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starswallowingsea · 4 years

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Will You Trust Me?

Fandom: Skyjacks

Pairing: Gable/Travis

Word Count: 4162

Summary: Love has never been in the cards for Gable. They never felt interested in it but their mother has placed a lot of significance on the topic. Travis has been a swan for most of his life now and spends his days in the forest, swimming on the lake and thinking about life. A lot. When they meet, Gable isn’t sure what to make of Travis, but they seem to hit it off together quickly. Will Gable be able to break Travis’ curse? Will Travis finally get over himself and his attitude? Will my backspace key stop breaking on tumblr?

Notes: Swan Lake Gable/Travis AU based on this post by @lopxart and it’s finally finished! This is a minor disclaimer but I’ve never actually seen Swan Lake so I based most of this on various summaries I read online and split it into 4 acts + a prologue and epilogue. I also took a lot of liberties with character relationships to make things work. Enjoy!

---

Prologue

Travis and his friends had gone hunting in the woods together. They were after some meat to show off their talents at the feast tomorrow, and to have some fun together one last time before they all got married off to somewhere far away.

As day turned to dusk, and dusk turned to night, the group of friends were still in the woods, getting ready to head back to the castle. They double checked that they had all the animals they had killed, their weapons, cloaks, and anything else they may have brought with them. As they began their trek back, a shadowy figure walked towards them.

“Why have you come here, prince?” A smooth, deep voice asks.

“To hunt for food and have fun! What else would we be doing here?” Travis says, only a little phased by the mysterious stranger in front of them.

“T-Travis, I don’t think you s-should have said that,” said Dref from behind him.

“Your friend is right. You’ve trespassed on my land, and I cannot simply forgive you for that.”

Travis turns around to look at the others, confused and concerned looks crossing their faces.

“Well we didn’t know it was your forest, you should have a fence or a sign up or something. We promise we won’t do this again.” He says, displaying his hands in front of him, a lilted grin on his face.

“It’s a sacred law that nobody shall hunt in my forest without permission or an offering first. I must make you pay for this.” She says calmly, raising her own hands.

“Look lady, everyone just thinks those are stories and only the superstitious people really believe them. You can’t expect me to just take these things at face value, can you?”

She never answered, rather, she raised her arms and pain overtook their bodies.

Act I

Gable descended the stairs as their mother approached them. They greeted each other with kisses on the cheek and their mother clasped their shoulders. “Gable, you are coming of age today and need to get married. We will be having a ball tomorrow for you to find a suitable spouse.”

Gable gently took their mother’s hands off their shoulders. “Mother, today’s my birthday, could this not have waited until tomorrow? I wanted to spend some time with my friends, maybe go hunting with them.”

“Yes, I know you want to go be with your friends, but you cannot keep this lifestyle up forever. What will you do when I finally pass away and you must take the throne?”

“That hasn’t happened yet, so I haven’t thought about it. Besides, you’ll be alive for many more years. We have the best doctors around and you have been pretty good about keeping up your health. Surely I will be much older when it comes time to think about those things.”

The Queen sighed and once again placed her hand on Gable’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“The future is never set in stone. Just think about who you want to marry at least before tomorrow for me?”

“I suppose I can do that.”

Gable reached up to grab their mother’s hand and squeezed it gently.

“Thank you,” she said.

---

A few hours passed filled with dancing, drinking, and talking amongst friends. Gable took a sip of their drink as their friend tried to tell them a story without laughing too much. The sun was starting to sink, but it was still light out.

The Queen stepped over to her child, tapping them gently on the shoulder to get their attention.

“Hmm? Yes, what do you want now?” They asked, not entirely sure as to why their mother was interrupting their conversation.

“Since I cannot stop you, I thought you might enjoy one last hunt with your friends,” the Queen said, bringing out a crossbow from behind her back. “It was your father’s and he would want you to have it.”

Gable stared down at the gift, gently taking it from her hands into their own. The two never really talked about their father, but Gable sometimes overheard stories from workers in the castle. He loved to hunt, a master with the crossbow.

“Thanks…” They said, trailing off and turning the weapon over in their hands.

Hildred took a look over their shoulder, wanting to see what Gable’s mother had given them.

“Ooooooooh, are we going on a hunt today?” She asked. “It’s been a while since we’ve done that.”

“Yes, we are. Get everyone together, we’ll leave in a few minutes.”

With that, Hildred ran off to get her own crossbow and Gable gave their mother a tight hug.

Act II

The group of friends walked out into the woods, having, of course, made an offering to the Forest Queen before stepping foot into the forest. They broke off in small groups to try and catch more game without disturbing the animals as easily.

Gable and Hildred walked together for some time before Gable got lost. They didn’t remember if they took a wrong turn or if Hildred had stopped and they just didn’t hear her say anything. Either way, they ended up alone in a clearing by a beautiful lake. They never realized it was there, but then again, they normally didn’t come this far into the woods on their own.

There appeared to be some swans on the lake, swimming around peacefully. Gable set their crossbow down and leaned up against a tree, watching the birds move across the surface of the lake. They couldn’t make a shot from here and didn’t want to risk them flying away if they got closer, but there was still something oddly calming about just watching the swans, distracting them from their thoughts.

---

They couldn’t tell how much time had passed when they heard rustling behind them.

“Gable! There you are! We’ve been looking for you all evening! How’d you end up all the way out here?” Hildred shouted from behind them.

Gable jumped up at the sudden noise, hand reaching for the crossbow reflexively before realizing who it was.

“I don’t know. One second I was with you and the next I was here. Don’t worry about me though, I’ll be back later. I want to try and get one of those swans on the lake but too many people might scare them off.”

Hildred looked past them to the lake and saw the swans swimming in the center of the lake, which appeared golden in the setting sun.

“Alright, whatever you say Gable.” She said, patting their shoulder before yelling at the others to head back to the castle.

---

As the sun continued to sink into the sky, Gable wondered if the swans would ever come ashore. Surely they needed to come back eventually. The sky turned golden, then pink, and finally an inky black, the moon and stars reflecting from the lake’s surface.

The swans finally came ashore when the moon rose just above the treeline. Gable slowly crept forward with their crossbow loaded and aimed at the most beautiful swan of all. This one even had an old crown on its head, styled like that of the rulers from decades ago. It must have fallen off into the lake long ago and been picked up by the swan.

Their finger hovered gently over the trigger as they found the best spot for a clean kill when the swan ducked down and began… changing shape? Gable kept the crossbow up as they approached, keeping to the trees so as not to disturb whatever it was that stood on the beach.

A figure stood up where the swan had been; a beautiful, slender man with silver hair and clothes stood up before them. Gable, unsure of what to do, kept the crossbow in front of them, aiming it past the person (or swan-person, as it was) in front of them and firing a warning shot into the lake.

The man jumped, cursing loudly and looking in Gable’s direction, searching for who fired the shot.

“I know you’re out there! You don’t scare me! Shoot again, I dare you!” He said, stretching his arms out wide.

Gable sighed and lowered the crossbow, seeing that whoever this was, he was mostly harmless. They then stepped back into the clearing, making a show of putting the weapon on the ground, along with undoing the quiver along their waist and dropping it into the sand.

“Oh, so it was you, was it?”

“I thought you were a swan, that’s all.” Gable said, crossing their arms over their chest.

“Well, you see, I’m a different bird, but I can understand where you got confused.”

The man turned around and began dancing by himself on the beach, graceful like a bird, but still lonely.

“Care to join me?” He asked, extending a hand to Gable.

“Only if you tell me your name.”

“Travis, and yours?”

“Gable.” They said, moving forward to grab his hand. Gable was never one for dancing, but they let themselves be led by Travis, still unsure of what exactly he was.

“So… can you just change into a swan whenever you want or something?”

“I wish it were that easy. A long time ago, me and some friends were cursed by the Forest Queen for breaking one of her rules or something. I didn’t see what the big deal was, but she changed us into swans, allowing us to only be human at night.”

Gable stayed silent for a moment, thinking about what he just said.

“And after we were cursed to be swans forever, our families wept for years. Their tears make up the lake here. It wasn’t there when we were cursed…” He said trailing off, thinking about how his family had lived and died without him all those years ago.

“I… I’m very sorry for what happened to you. Is there a way to break this curse?” Gable asked, slowing down, but still moving with Travis in the dance.

Travis took a deep breath, coming to a stop.

“One of us needs to be someone’s first and only love. Only then will we be able to remain human and properly die of old age.”

At that Gable sat down in the sand, thinking about Travis’ response. Travis sat down next to them, leaning back and looking up at the stars.

“It’s not a bad life we lead, you know. We don’t age, injuries don’t last for longer than a day, we can’t really be killed.” He said.

“It must get lonely. Without being able to see your other friends and your family ever.” Gable said.

Travis was taken a little off guard by the statement. “Yeah, I suppose. You get used to it after a few years though.”

“But you shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have to be used to being a swan and being away from your family and friends. This isn’t right.”

There was a tense pause in the conversation as they both let what Gable said sink in.

“I…

“I’ve never been in love.” Gable says with a shaky breath.

Travis looks over at them, their eyes focused on the other side of the lake.

“Well, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” Travis said, scooting a little closer to Gable.

Gable looked over at Travis for the first time since sitting down. “That would probably be the best place to start, huh.”

They began talking about their home, their friends, what they did when they weren’t training for being the next ruler of the kingdom, even how boring their training was. Slowly, they started relaxing, opening up to Travis more, as he also told them about his life before. The two laughed together, gently shoving each other when they said something ridiculous. Gable finally felt like they could be themself with someone and Travis had finally found someone to talk to that wasn’t one of his swan friends.

---

By the time the moon began to sink behind the horizon, Gable realized just how long they had been out.

“I have to be going, but… you aren’t that bad.” They said, grinning.

“Likewise.” Travis said, standing up. He offered a hand to Gable to pull them up and into one last embrace.

Gable opened their mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by a loud voice behind them.

“Go, dance on the lake, my swans. Far away from shore, so this human cannot follow you.” It said. Travis jerked away from the hug and felt himself pulled towards the lake, dancing. From around the shore, his friends also came out with him.

“Travis!” Gable shouted, reaching out for him as he danced further and further towards the center of the lake. They tried to follow, but they sank in the water instead of floating above it.

“I suggest you go home, young royal.” The voice behind them said.

A tear escaped from Gable’s eyes as they turned around, grabbed their crossbow and bolts, and walked home.

Act III

Gable awoke the next day after a fitful sleep. They only got two or three hours of it after coming home late from the hunt, having spent a large amount of time talking with that swan-prince bird person. They still didn’t know what to make of him, annoying sure, but maybe if they had met before, Gable would have been able to present him to their mother for today.

In either case, Gable needed to get ready for the big day ahead of them. The servants already had breakfast and their clothes ready so they could have enough time to get properly dressed for that evening’s events.

“Where were you last night, Gable?” Their mother asked, sitting across from them with her own food.

“Must’ve fallen asleep in the woods I suppose.” They said, taking another forkful of food.

“But Hildred told me that you told her to just leave you alone, that you would be back in an hour or two.”

“Did I? I guess I did. I think I fell asleep against that tree waiting for the animals to come into range or something.”

Their mother looked skeptical at that, but didn’t say anything else.

“You know you have to pick your future spouse tonight,” she said, handing her dishes to a servant waiting nearby.

“I am fully aware that you intend for me to do so, yes.”

“You need to marry so that after I die, our reign can continue. The choosing ceremony is a part of a long tradition--”

“Yes yes I am fully aware of all of these things, mother. I will attend if that will appease you but I will not be choosing a spouse tonight, nor any night for that matter.”

“What happens when you die? You have no heir? Who will take over this kingdom?”

“Maybe you and father should have had more kids. Then we wouldn’t be having this issue.”

At that their mother became furious. “Don’t you dare disrespect your father like that. You know we tried many times to have children and you were the only result of our efforts.”

Gable finished their breakfast, stood up, and walked away without saying anything else.

---

Gable sat in their ceremony clothes, fidgeting with the sleeves, thinking about Travis. There was no way he would be able to come in if he was a swan half the time and how would they explain to their mother how they met him in the first place?

It didn’t really matter.

Their mother walked in, an apologetic look on her face. “Gable, I am so sorry for how I acted at breakfast. I know this is difficult for you, but it is difficult for me too. I do not want to see my only child be lonely for the rest of their life, you know that. I am just thinking of you.”

Gable rolled their eyes. “I know, and I’ve told you over and over that marriage will not make me happy. I want this kingdom to prosper, but I don’t want to do it in the way you seem to think I should.”

Their mother sighed and moved to stand in front of Gable. She pulled a chair over and sat down, placing her hands on Gable’s and said “I really, truely, am sorry for all of this. I know that this is a stuffy old tradition, but at least try to pick a suitor tonight? Dance with them, have fun, maybe something will click with one of them.”

Gable clenched and unclenched their fists, thinking it over. They still didn’t really want to do this, and the whole ball itself felt very stupid and played up. “If I won’t be tied down by any decision I make, then yes, I can promise you at least that much I suppose.”

“Thank you,” their mother smiled, patting Gable’s hands before standing up to leave. “I will leave you to get ready then.”

---

Hours later, Gable stood at the top of the stairs as music swelled around the ballroom. They descended the stairs, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. Hildred was there, as were all of their hunting friends. Near them, was a line of young people, around Gable’s age, of various genders, waiting to see if Gable would select them to rule the kingdom.

Gable first walked over to Hildred and their friends.

“I can’t believe your mother did all this for you! Not nearly as stuffy as some of those events though,” Hildred said, pulling Gable into a hug.

Gable hugged her back. “I know. She still wants me to choose someone tonight so I can properly succeed her when the time comes, which hopefully for all of us, won’t be soon.”

Hildred chuckled at that.

“Well, you better go dance with your suitors. I’m sure they’re just as nervous as you are,” Hildred said, smirking.

“Yeah, probably.”

---

Gable moved across the dance floor, seamlessly flowing between dance partners, some suitors, some not. They would talk for the duration of the song playing and then move on, sometimes picking up after minutes or hours of separation. It wasn’t a bad night, but there were certainly places Gable would rather have been.

A gust of wind brushed past them as the doors opened. It was late and the air was cold, but still, someone decided to arrive hours late.

Gable looked over and saw one of their mentors and… Travis?

Gable let go of their current dance partner and made their way over to Travis.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” they said, offering a hand to shake.

“Oh I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he responded, taking their hand and bringing it to his lips. Something about his whole demeanor felt odd, but they had only spent one night together, so there were certainly things they wouldn’t know about each other.

“Well I’m glad you made it. Would you care for a dance?” Gable pulled him closer before he could respond and merged into the dancing crowd together.

---

A lone man walked up to one of the many windows around the ballroom and looked inside. He knew his presence would not be appreciated by Gable’s family and the guests, as much as he wanted to go in and torture them with his presence.

His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the person they had spent much of the day thinking about. He saw them dancing with another man, one who looked an awful lot like Travis himself. He wanted to run inside and break the two up and steal Gable away to live in the woods and annoy them with bird jokes for the rest of their life, maybe even break this damn curse.

Travis moved over to the door and just as he pushed it open, his stomach dropped.

“I think… I’m in love with you,” Gable said, pulling the fake Travis closer.

“I cannot believe you would fall for this,” Travis shouted from the door, drawing everyone’s attention. “This fake man pretending to be me, and for what? Clout? And you just believed him when he told you he was me?”

Gable looked slowly between the two men, trying to process what was happening. There were two Travises and one of them was very, very angry right now. But Gable didn’t have time to process things as the other Travis ran out the door and towards the woods. The “Travis” that they had been dancing with transformed, growing an inch or two and visibly changing his face and body, revealing someone else entirely.

Gable ran out after Travis as fast as they could.

Act IV

“Travis! Travis I’m sorry!” Gable shouted, running for the lake where they had met just yesterday. That felt like years ago now.

“How could you not know it was a fake? A fake me!” Travis’ voice echoed from ahead of them.

Gable didn’t say anything else. They had thought it wasn’t really him that they were dancing with, but never said anything.

They approached the beach, Travis sitting in the sand, head in his hands. “I trusted you, you know.”

“I… I know.”

“I wanted to come to the ball too. Bother you in front of your friends. But I guess I didn’t need to. Mr. Fakey Fake came and replaced me huh?”

“You know I didn’t mean--”

“Do I know that, though? How do I know you’re being sincere?”

Gable sighed and sat next to Travis in the sand, resting a hand on his arm. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I can show you that, how I can make it up to you, even if you are a little bit of a bastard. I could make the grandest of gestures, say all the right words, but it wouldn’t mean anything.”

Travis looked up at the touch, into Gable’s eyes as they spoke. He sighed, too, dropping his hands to the sand. “You’re right. I would have to just trust that you wouldn’t do it again. The only problem is, you can’t break our curse anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Only someone who’s never been in love and who falls in love with one of us swan-people can break it. I told you this already didn’t I?”

Gable just shook their head, not recalling any conversation like that happening.

Travis rolled his eyes and stood up. He offered a hand to Gable. “Would you share this dance with me anyway?”

Gable took his hand and stood up, pulling him close to dance with.

And the two swayed together, moving across the beach for a few peaceful minutes. They shared some jokes and toes were stepped on (by accident, of course), until the Forest Queen interrupted them.

She coughed loudly, not intending to be subtle about her presence as someone else appeared from the treeline behind her.

“Royal Gable, did you not promise to marry the man standing beside me? Did you not declare your love for him over the swan you are standing with now?” She asked.

Gable turned to face her, letting go of Travis except for his hand. “You tricked me into saying that! I have no love for that man, only for Travis, as stupid as he may be.”

“Hmm… indeed you were. But it still stands that your love with Travis will be forbidden, for now he cannot become human and your mother would never allow it. Tiberius, my wonderful son, on the other hand, is a human and is more than delighted to become your husband and to help the kingdom grow and prosper.”

Gable turned to look at Travis.

“Will you trust me now?” They said, looking into his eyes and gripping his hand tightly.

“Do I have any other choice?”

Gable smiled and rolled their eyes, pulling him with them towards the water. The water rose up to their knees, hips, chest, neck, eyes, and when their heads were covered they kept running anyway. Gable pulled Travis into a tight embrace as the last of their breaths left their bodies.

Epilogue

The other swans, who were humans for the night, came out of the forest and watched, as Travis and Gable ran into the water away from the Forest Queen.

“I’m certainly n-not sorry to see him go.” Dref said, watching the ripples slowly die off where the two went under.

“Hey, c’mon! Travis was a good friend and you just won’t admit it,” someone else said, clapping Dref on the back.

“Jonnit, I know you haven’t kn-known Travis as long as I have, but you would h-hate him if you spent more than twenty minutes with him after a-a hunt.”

“You’re probably right, but that doesn’t mean we won’t both miss him, right?”

“That’s certainly o-one way of putting it.”

The rest of the flock had now gathered around the beach, and together they watched as the souls of Travis and Gable danced together into the sky.

#skyjacks #campaign podcast #gable skyjacks #travis matagot #dref wormwood #jonnit kessler #gable/travis #gable x travis #please please show up in the tags this time im begging you #I think pinging lopxart was the issue last time so im just sending it to them via dm #whenever I figure out a summary for this ugh #I want to make it good but. im not good at summaries jsidjfiosdjif #like part of me wants it to be poetic but its just not working out like that #do I go for a stereotypical 'gable was this and travis was this but when they meet *fireworks noises and effects*#absolutely not my brain would never allow it #but anyway ive been working on this for how long? several weeks on and off?#between school and trying to motivate myself to write. its rough #but I've got it checked off my list of wips now at least #shay speaks #shay writes #guess that's what im going with now aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh okay okay #*hesitates before pressing the post button*#sry if u get the @ gale. I don't know if it'll show up in ur notifs or not bc im adding it to the post after I made it but jic

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neocatharsis · 3 years

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NCT’s Mark Lee on Dreams, Instagram Poetry, and Growing Up

Mark has a lot going on — but he’s making time for poetry, introspection, and, of course, the members of NCT Dream. - Vivien Wu

“I’ve been thinking about dreams a lot these days!” Mark Lee exclaims over Zoom from SM Entertainment’s Seoul headquarters.

The 21-year-old leader of NCT Dream is enthusiastic as he mulls over the meaning of dreams, his back against a wall of pink and yellow flowers assembled by his fellow NCT members. He’s wearing a simple, white tee, and when he gestures with his hands, you can catch glimpses of the friendship ring that all seven members of NCT Dream wear as a symbol of their bond.

“I actually feel like dreams hold a large portion of a life, and I’m not just talking about the subconscious dreams that we all have when we sleep,” he continues. “If you put it in a way where dreams are actually things that motivate us, and the drive that keeps us going, especially as a strongly driven person myself, I feel like… a guy with no dreams is like…” He looks up, thinking. “…A car with no engine. So, I think it’s as important as yourself. That’s how deep I go with dreams.”

His interest in dreams is fitting, considering that they are also the central, underlying concept to the lore behind NCT Dream’s parent group, NCT. They connect their three subunits, NCT 127, NCT Dream, and WayV, in a complex, Inception-inspired fictional universe where dreams are the only way they can find each other, and where upon uniting they can mix to form new subunits collectively referred to as NCT U. In practical terms, this has resulted in a 23-member mega-group that is multifaceted in every way — from their musical styles and visual aesthetics to their cultural backgrounds and spoken languages.

NCT Dream’s original teenage concept meant that members were supposed to “graduate” when they came of age, and as the oldest, Mark was the first to leave the group at the end of 2018. Having grown attached, however, fans were devastated at his departure; after a year of separation, SM announced that the graduation system would be scrapped and that he would rejoin the group. Their new album, Hot Sauce, is the first with Mark in over two years. As fellow member Haechan declared in an interview with Teen Vogue earlier this week, “Mark [is] very special. NCT Dream means Mark.”

But before the rapper led NCT Dream, and before he joined NCT U and NCT 127 and SuperM — the man is in high demand — Mark’s childhood dream was writing. He grew up in Toronto, and through doing school projects and essays quickly discovered that he had a natural way with words. Inspired by Percy Jackson author Rick Riordan, Harry Potter, and James Patterson, Mark dreamt of becoming an author, long before he was recruited by SM at a global audition in Canada in 2012. “When I was in school, I was always the kind of guy who would write more than expected, and that became a thing that clicked for me,” he says. “I was like, ‘Maybe it’s something that I naturally do?’ But then that kind of turned into rap writing too, so I guess they kind of clicked together.” It explains his prolific career as a lyricist; since debuting, he’s amassed over 30 songwriting credits across his various groups, contributing to songs as iconic as NCT U’s “Boss,” NCT 127’s “Cherry Bomb,” and NCT Dream’s “Chewing Gum.”

Even with such an extensive body of work, however, penning lyrics hasn’t satiated his appetite for literary expression. In an interview with Japanese magazine Men’s Non-No, he revealed that he still hopes one day to write a book, whether that be a novel, autobiography, or something more philosophical.

In the meantime, he’s taken to writing what are basically short poems on his Instagram, which he created just a few months ago. He’s gathered over 4.5 million followers since then, but having such a large audience hasn’t deterred him from being endearingly vulnerable with the way he writes. When I refer to them as poems, he laughs and looks embarrassed, but when I ask him to tell me the stories behind them, he’s enthusiastic again. They’re short, but offer brief glimpses into Mark the writer — sharp, inquisitive, and thoughtful. As pieces of literature, they’re a little rough around the edges, but the sincerity he’s known for shines through, illuminating the introspective, philosophical side that may not be so obvious in person.

His first poem, loosely titled “Late Night Scribbling,” put into words his musings about sleep, thoughts, feelings, and writing. It meanders from topic to topic, hovering between feelings of hope and hopelessness, before ending with a comically awkward “haha.”

“I actually wrote that by imagining how I wanted to organize my Instagram page,” he explains. “I was thinking of creating an Instagram, then I realized that, well, I’m not really a picture kind of guy, I’m not really a travelling kind of guy… I kind of studied who I am first, and I [asked myself], ‘What’s something that I can really portray in an intimate way?’ and it turned out to be writing.”

“I started to brainstorm what kind of topics I could write about, and then from there on, I started to write a little each and every night, and that turned into Late Night Scribbling,” he continues. “That kind of gave me courage to start Instagram in the first place, that piece of writing.”

Two weeks later, he followed it up with “Black Socks,” a whimsical ode to, well, black socks — complete with accompanying photos of him wearing said socks. Immediately, it feels more confident and cohesive than its predecessor. Using the neat and tidy look of black socks as a metaphor, he describes his own mindset for living life: “Pleasure from perfect alignment; That also goes for my ability to be parallel with my thoughts and actions; I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep it consistent even when forgotten like a working habit.”

Comments on the posts praise his writing and encourage him to continue sharing these small pieces of himself. On the stage, Mark takes on a confident, larger-than-life persona, while in vlogs and spoken interviews, he’s a bubbly character full of laughter and boyish charm. What the poems show is that, beneath these outer appearances, there’s another layer of complexity that is yet to be fully explored, and it’s not surprising that fans want to know more.

His day job as a K-pop idol doesn’t allow a lot of time for hobbies, though, and he confesses to not having written much lately. Despite that, he’s determined to stay in the industry for as long as possible. “Longevity is something that I’ve always been aiming for,” he says. “I’m willing to do this for a long time, and that requires a lot of work. I’m willing to take that as a challenge and I’m trying to stay as long as I can, but with quality.”

That focus on quality informs his preparations for the upcoming promotions with NCT Dream. In both their fictional world and ours, NCT Dream are a central component of NCT by virtue of their unique focus on growth — the seven members were aged between 14 and 17 when the group first debuted in 2016. Fast-forward five years, and the members are now 19 to 21, having reached a milestone in January when the youngest, Jisung, finally became a legal adult in Korea. When asked if he feels like an adult yet, though, Mark gives an extremely relatable answer with zero hesitation.

“I still feel like I’m in middle school, I’m gonna be totally honest. I swear to God, I feel like I’m… All right, I’ll put it up — I feel like I’m in high school!” He laughs. “I even had this talk with Jisung, ‘cos he’s the latest that turned into an adult. He said that he still feels like he’s a student, he doesn’t feel like he’s 20 [19 in international age] right now.”

It’s been a long time since all seven Dream members — Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung — have released an album together, and as the first full-length album since their debut, the fan anticipation is palpably intense. Mark himself has mentioned in various vlogs how important he believes this comeback to be, and that conviction becomes obvious whenever he talks about it.

“We had a talk all together, the seven of us, without any cameras or anything. I brought all the guys together and we talked before the whole momentum started, and I said that I’m willing to put my everything on this one. Like, I always had, but I feel like… the whole universe, or like— ” He pauses, trying to figure out how to articulate himself, and his next line is the most emphatic of our whole conversation. “There are things that are out of our control, but we can see and feel when the pieces match together sometimes, and I feel like this specific moment, this particular album, kind of had those essential parts.”

He’s thinking about all of the context surrounding this comeback: the group’s coming of age, the reunion of all seven members, the scale of the album, the fact that Jisung has only just recovered from a leg injury that meant he couldn’t dance for months — even the fact that 2020 was, against all odds, the best year yet for NCT, with release after release bringing them unprecedented success and momentum.

“I felt that coming and I explained all of that [to the group],” he continues. “This whole period of time has a lot of meaning to it, and we’re not taking that for granted, we’re working hard.” With everything that’s happened, Hot Sauce is a historic moment for NCT Dream, and that’s been reflected in their numbers — the album clocked over 1.7 million pre-orders, obliterating their previous record of 500,000 for last year’s EP, Reload.

Their familial bond and the success that has come with it is the culmination of years spent living, working, and growing up together. The members have collectively missed out on key experiences that most teenagers might take for granted, distanced as they are from normal life, and the group also benefits from an unusually loose adherence to traditional Korean age hierarchy. The result is a brotherhood that goes beyond just being colleagues. “What we have is pretty intimate, and it’s also genuine,” Mark says.

About his role, he is matter of fact. “I’m by far the most easily approachable punching bag for the team. I am not… complaining…” He laughs. “But all jokes aside, I feel like my role for this team… Yes, I am the oldest and I am the leader but I’m also… In Korea, in the culture, age is very important, but we’ve come so far that all those borders kind of just vanished and we’re all pretty much friends, and I guess I’m just a friend of theirs too.”

It’s true that, despite being the leader, his friendly personality and endearingly awkward mannerisms mean that he commands about as much authority as a small puppy. Instead, much like a puppy, he is showered with love and affection (fellow member Chenle refers to Mark as his son and his actual puppy Daegal as Mark’s little sister), but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a dependable leader figure. The opposite is true — in Renjun’s words, Mark’s presence unites the group in a way that makes him irreplaceable.

And while this may be the fifth year since their debut, in the grand scheme of things, the members of NCT Dream are still very, very young — by most standards, they would still be considered to have their entire careers ahead of them. Growth has brought them here, but where does Mark think it will take them in the future?

“Growing just never stops for us, I can see us growing continuously, endlessly,” he replies. “What the future holds is something that we will never know, but we always do try to prepare during the present, and so with whatever time we have currently and with whatever album, or whatever stage, or whatever piece of music it may be, we’re willing to make sure that we have the next one coming too.”

A final thought. “I’m glad that we’re striving for that, ‘cos we started off as…” Mark shakes his head, “…as babies.”

#nct #nct dream #Mark #nct 127

54 notes · View notes

joon-ipersgirl · 4 years

Text

O3 - “don’t leave me”

genre: strangers to lovers!au, angst, fluff

pairing: jimin x reader (f)

summary: they say home is where the heart is. you’re convinced yours was taken the day your father died. until you meet jimin.

you believe in love but after watching men cycle through your mother’s arms, rocky relations with ex-boyfriends, and broken friendships, you no longer see it in your future. so much so, you never settle in one place long enough to create ties and call it home, choosing a job where you’re always on the go and on your own.

on a chance encounter on a flight from new york city to bali, indonesia, you meet. flustered by jimin’s flirty advances but understanding and good-natured tendencies, you start to fall. what starts off as a work-trip soon blossoms into a budding romance, but will jimin’s secret destroy the relationship before it’s had the chance to truly begin?

word count: 10.6k.. lmao

warnings: mentions of anxiety, cursing

a/n: wow it’s been some weeks. school and work are kicking my ass but thank you to that anon who asked if i was still writing. i am. i’m doing my best to balance everything but your comment seriously motivated me to find some time to post this and it is a hell of a long part so i hope that makes up for the semi-hiatus. the next part is my fave part to date and i hope to have that up soon. seriously, all your comments mean the world to me so send them in, even if you think it’s something super small! you could be the difference between something be posted or not lol. anywhooo. thank you again for reading and vi for being my editor in chief. enjoy! :)

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

It was the additional warmth that alerted you that something was wrong. The fogginess of sleep wrestled with your consciousness as your body slowly woke up, the former forcing sleep to tap out. Your legs were cramped beneath you in the seat as you’d curled into yourself, the thin blanket tucked up under your chin like a butterfly in a cocoon. All of these were quite normal, except for the soft material underneath your cheek instead of the scratchy cover of the airline seat. Lifting your head from your makeshift pillow, your eyes focused on the smooth skin of Jimin’s neck. You jerked away, smacking your head against the curve of the airplane. Jimin groaned and turned to face you, his eyes still closed but his eyebrows furrowed.

“Jimin!” you hissed, shoving his shoulder away from you. His upper body was still pressed against your knees. “Get up!”

He finally opened his eyes, confusion was written on his face as he squinted from the soft lights filtering into the plane. Jimin shifted back over to his seat and you sighed in relief, still rubbing the back of your head in an attempt to soothe the sore spot. He shoved his hood from his head and ran his fingers through the soft waves of his hair, a few tufts sticking up out of place.

“Why are you yelling?” he groaned, holding his hands in his head. “It’s early as fuck.”

“I wasn’t yelling. And you were crushing me,” you huffed, attempting to stretch your legs out.

“You weren’t complaining a few moments ago,” he countered, his usual grin looking more adorable as he struggled to fully wake up.

You pursed your lips in irritation. It didn’t seem to take Jimin long to be back on his bullshit, even if he had just woken up. He stretched beside you, toned arms coming up above his head, the hem of his hoodie rising along with them. You turned your head back to the window, not wanting to be caught staring again. So much for avoiding cuddling into his nice, warm body. If he asked, you’d just blame it on the cold air of the plane.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our final descent to Hong Kong International Airport. Please secure your tray tables and return your seats to their full upright position. We will be coming through to collect any trash you may still have. Thank you.”

You gasped as you realized you’d overslept and missed the opportunity to have your morning coffee. You rubbed your forehead, already feeling the symptoms of withdrawal hitting you. The in-flight monitor showed that it was almost 10 am in New York, meaning you were already one cup of coffee behind schedule. You could only pray that it wouldn’t take long for the next set of passengers to board and the in-flight services could begin again before your impatience truly reared its ugly head.

Shoving open the little plane window cover, you watched as the cityscape of Hong Kong came into view. The bright lights of the tall skyscrapers looked like lighthouses perched on the corner of cliffs and you awed at its modern beauty. It was almost as breathtaking as flying into New York City. You pulled your phone from your sweatpants’ pocket and took a video as the plane banked left, your brain not too bogged down to recognize a money-making shot when you saw one.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Jimin whispered over your shoulder, his voice rough from sleep. You nodded, not turning to look at him, not trusting yourself to face him in your coffee-deprived state and question exactly who or what he was referring to.

With a gentle shudder, the aircraft landed on the tarmac and headed to its destination, the passengers on the flight applauding for your safe arrival. The pilot welcomed you to Hong Kong International Airport, telling you the current local time and temperature, and thanking you for flying with Cathay Airlines. At the ding! of the seatbelt sign disappearing, a few passengers rushed to secure their carry ons, no doubt antsy to make it to their connecting flight. You sank back into your seat, silently urging them on so you could be back in the air and on your way to Indonesia.

“One flight down, only one more to go!” Jimin exclaimed and stepped into the aisle, fully stretching his lean body after double checking no one else was coming behind him. You nodded and combed your fingers through your hair, trying to tame your own bed hair.

After a few idle minutes, you realized that no one else had gotten on the plane. Confused, you propped yourself up to see the front of the plane better. Aside from a few passengers stretching their legs like Jimin, no clean-up crew had boarded to clear the empty seats and restock the plane with food. The rest of the passengers seemed to notice the lack of activity as well.

“Excuse me?” a man a few rows ahead called to a passing stewardess. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes sir. We’re just having a few maintenance issues, but everything should be sorted quickly. No need to worry,” she said with a gentle smile. Maintenance issues? That didn’t sound good.

Jimin slipped back into his seat to let the stewardess pass. “Don’t look so worried, Shutterfly. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

You nodded slowly and chewed on your lip. It was already bad that you hadn’t been able to see the changes Michael had sent, but now it seemed like your arrival in Bali would be delayed, thwarting your plans even further. Would it be wrong to assume Adele’s phone call was to blame for your entire trip taking every possible delay and detour? Maybe Michael’s words had come true and you hadn’t planned well enough, your gifts truly leaving you in your time of need.

You busied myself with folding the airplane blanket and tucking it into the back of the seat in an effort to remain calm. It would eventually all be sorted and you could contact Micahel when you finally landed, possibly even convincing him that you deserved an extension because of circumstances out of your control.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. It seems as though our aircraft is having some slight maintenance problems and we will no longer be able to fly to our final destination on this particular plane. Our crew is working diligently to rectify the issue, but we’re going to have to ask you to please leave the aircraft. If you could make your way to the information desk right outside the gate, our associates would be happy to answer any questions you may have about getting you to your final destination. Thank you,” the announcement came over the speakers. An audible groan echoed from the remaining passengers.

“Well, fuck,” Jimin commented, shoving his book and hoodie into his backpack. “What a great surprise,” he mumbled.

You didn’t move. It was as though her words hadn’t truly registered and you blinked a few more times before you honestly understood what was happening. You were going to be late to Bali, your entire itinerary thrown off, not to mention whatever else you needed to add to the video. Your accommodations there would be gone and your deposits with it. Fuck. The familiar tug of anxiety filled your chest as you watched it rise and fall, your breaths coming much easier than you expected, though you felt you’d been submerged underwater for a few minutes. Tears pricked the back of your eyelids as you tried not to cry from frustration.

“Shutterfly! Are you coming?” Jimin was already halfway up the aisle, his old backpack slung low on his shoulders as he checked for your whereabouts, holding up the small line that formed behind him.

You grabbed your backpack and shoved your feet back into your sneakers, double-checking the time on your phone. As soon as you got off the plane, you needed to call Michael and update him on the situation. Though you knew he wouldn’t be upset with you, the gnawing feeling of guilt hung around your shoulders as you shuffled down the aisle with the rest of the passengers.

Hong Kong International Airport would have stolen your breath away had you been paying proper attention. You took a sharp left after entering the actual terminal, looking for an empty seat in a quiet space where you would be able to hear Michael over the protests of irritated passengers. Dialing his number, you waited for the call to go through but it didn’t. You tried again, the same “call failed” message popping up on the screen. Checking the number of bars on your phone showed you that you didn’t have any service. You stared at your phone, baffled. It wouldn’t even connect to the wifi. What in the good Lord’s name were you supposed to do now?

You slumped against the sleek metal column until your body hit the floor in defeat, your brain too frazzled to come up with any bright ideas. Unease wrapped her familiar fingers around your shoulders again. Her gentle whispers echoed in your mind as the uncertainty of the situation before you gripped you tightly. You felt stranded with her on a desolate island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and she was your only company. You drew your knees into your chest, trying to disappear as if that would make anything better. Frustration grew into anger and tears welled up in your eyes as you pushed up from the ground, backpack secured firmly in your grip, and marched over to the nearest Cathay employee.

“Excuse me?” he turned to face you with a warm smile.

“Yes, ma’am. How may I help you?” he asked.

“Hi. I was on the flight from JFK with the final destination to Bali. They said the plane has some maintenance issues? What’s going to happen now? How soon can I get on a flight out of here?” You tried your best to keep your tone neutral as he continued smiling at you.

“First, I’d like to apologize for the inconvenience. Second, we’re not actually sure -” your eyes widened, “- but we’re doing everything we can to fix things,” he finished.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked. “So am I just supposed to stay in the airport until you guys fix this?”

“Well, we currently have no flights leaving for Bali that have available seats on them -”

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that I might have to stay in Hong Kong overnight?” You did nothing to try to hide the panic in your voice, forgetting that you were in a public place.

“It’s quite possible, Miss. Again, I’m very sorry -”

“Where am I supposed to sleep then? I can’t sleep here!” you wailed, cutting him off again. His eyebrows turned down in annoyance. You were probably being rude, but at this moment in time, you couldn’t give a fuck. You were in an unfamiliar country, where they spoke an unfamiliar language, under extremely unfamiliar circumstances. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

“If you could follow me, I can see if we have any complimentary hotel rooms available as this cancellation was not your fault,” he said, the cheerful customer service tone gone.

You followed him to the Cathay Airlines desk in front of the gate and wrapped your arms around yourself as he spoke with his colleague. It offered no comfort and you bounced with nervous energy as you waited for his verdict. You started to count the number of passengers you recognized from your flight when someone brushed against you and you jumped, your body hyper-aware of any small movement.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Jimin. You sighed and relaxed your shoulders slightly. “You disappeared on me. Is everything okay? You look kind of ill,” he trailed off. You scowled at him and crossed your arms tightly.

“Thank you, Jimin. That’s just what anyone wants to hear during a time like this,” you said sarcastically. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, and mumbled a small apology. “How are you not upset about this?” you asked, gesturing to the rest of the people.

He shrugged. “Things change, life happens. Nothing we can really do about it. Just have to figure out the next step. Have you gotten any updates about a new flight leaving?” you nodded.

“He’s supposed to let me know, but it doesn’t sound like it’s going to be good news,” you replied, chewing on your lip again.

“So we could be stuck here overnight?”

“It’s quite possible,” you told him bitterly, repeating the same words said to you. Jimin hummed in thought and excused himself, promising he would be right back. It was at this moment that the employee returned, his colleague in tow.

“Well, Miss -”

“Y/L/N,” you filled in.

“Miss. Y/L/N, my name is Joy and I am a manager at Cathay Airlines. Again, I would like to apologize for the inconvenience this has caused you. Unfortunately, all of our complimentary rooms have been given away at this moment in time and it seems as though our next departing flight to Bali, Indonesia with available seats will not be leaving until tomorrow afternoon. As of right now, I can only offer you a discount on your next flight with us and a free upgrade to business class,” she finished, her smile almost as sorry as the deal she was offering you.

You inhaled deeply and tried to swallow the bitterness threatening to spill from your lips. The combination of anxiety, anger, and coffee withdrawal had left you with nothing kind to say and Adele had been around enough to teach you good manners.

“Well Jennie, that fucking sucks. Are there any places you could recommend that have available spaces? Or a partner airline that could - I don’t know - actually have working planes and could get me to my final destination?” you asked, some of the bitterness slipping in there somehow. Jennie’s smile tightened just as Jimin returned.

“Sorry, she’s not really a morning person,” he said apologizing and tucking you tightly under his arm. “You said there were no flights available until tomorrow afternoon, correct?”

“Yes, sir. We’re doing our best to get everyone on their way as soon as we can,” she answered, her smile brightening at his presence.

“I’m sure you are -” he leaned down slightly to read her name tag, “- Joy. If you could be so kind as to make sure that we’re sitting together whenever you sort those arrangements out, I would seriously appreciate it.” You opened your mouth to protest but Joy was already agreeing.

“Of course Mr. -“

“Park,”

“Park?” She stared at him puzzled before her eyes lit up. “That’s Korean, isn’t it? Do you speak Korean?” she asked excitedly. “I’ve been trying to practice.” You stared at her incredulously, but Jimin entertained the conversation to your dismay.

“As a matter of fact, I do. How long have you -“

“Jimin,” you butted in, twisting in his grip. “Joy is a busy woman. In fact, she was about to go and get some information about places to stay since there are no flights leaving today. I’m sure you could have this conversation -“

“Oh, no need to worry about that, Shutterfly. I’ve already got that taken care of, but you’re right. Joy is a busy woman so we should let her get back to work,” Jimin said, beaming down at you, his smile easing some of your pent up frustration.

“David,” Joy turned to the man who had originally tried to help me, “please add Miss. Y/L/N under Mr. Park’s reservation for tomorrow’s flight.”

“I’ll need your first name, Miss. Y/L/N,” David told you. “For security purposes,” he added after you continued to stare at him without giving an answer.

“Can’t you just look it up under the old reservation?”

“Oh come on, Shutterfly. Don’t be difficult. Don’t you want to go grab some breakfast?” Jimin cooed while squeezing your shoulder. You’re sure you looked like any angry bull as your nostrils flared. Of course, the Universe would be on Jimin’s side to have it so that you couldn’t not give him your name if you wanted to secure a seat that Joy seemed so determined to give Jimin. Getting to Bali as soon as possible trumped holding out on Jimin. Unfortunately.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N,” you grumbled, arms still crossed, and pouted at your game ending. Jimin’s smile widened and David nodded, heading back to the desk to input the information.

“Thank you so much, Joy. For everything,” Jimin emphasized and squeezed your shoulder again. “Good luck with your Korean!” he added and started to steer you away.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Park! Please enjoy your time in Hong Kong!” she called after you. Jimin pulled you away from the crowd and you struggled to keep up as one of his steps was almost two of yours.

“Jimin, slow down!” you yelled and finally tugged his arm from around you. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“To get breakfast. What do you mean? Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, confused as he stared down at you.

“Jimin, what about the rest of our luggage? Well, I don't know if you did, but I have a checked bag. I can’t just leave -”

“Y/N,” the way your name sounds coming from his mouth had you pausing, your own mouth open mid-sentence, “your luggage is fine. They hold it until you can get on the next flight. You still have the original tag they gave you, right?” You nodded. “Then you’re all set. Come on! You’ll think and feel better once you have some food in you. And some coffee.”

At the mention of your favorite beverage, you let Jimin lace his fingers through your own and lead you further through the international arrivals terminal in search of somewhere to eat. You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair again, dodging the occasional traveler in this unfamiliar airport, in an unfamiliar city, with a slightly less unfamiliar man for company.

Though Jimin was optimistic about finding breakfast at 2:30 am, you were not. After walking through the terminal for 25 minutes and trying to convince Jimin that no sane business would be open right now - to which he responded that there had to be at least one - he had finally given up after passing the same vending machine for the second time.

“Okay, maybe you were right,” he mumbled and set his bag on the floor as he plopped down into an empty seat at a vacated gate and you hummed in agreement. He pushed his hand through his hair and let his head fall over the edge of the seat. You checked your phone again to see if you had any service, and was disappointed to see that there still wasn’t. You sighed quietly and sat next to Jimin.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“You’re chewing your lip again,” he pointed out. Your cheeks warmed as you realized he was right and you released your lower lip. You were surprised he had noticed your unconscious behavior and you resisted the urge to do it again, instead settling on playing with the sleeves of your hoodie.

“I just - I have a really big project to complete in Bali and with this delay, I’m not sure if I can get it all done. I’ve been trying to get in touch with my manager, but my stupid fucking phone doesn’t have any stupid service right now so I -”

“Do you want to use mine?” he asked, cutting you off and offering you his phone. You stared at him. “Seriously, no worries. I have an international plan that automatically connects when I travel. Here,” he said while unlocking his phone and shoving it into your hands. “I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for you to say yes before he was already halfway down the hallway. You tapped the screen of his phone before it locked again and dialed Michael’s number, grateful for the privacy. Bouncing your leg, you prayed he would answer the unknown number.

“Michael Callahan. Who is this?”

“Oh, Michael!” You sobbed out in relief after finally hearing his voice.

“Y/N? Is everything okay? What happened to your phone?” he asked, the concern quite evident in his voice. “Were you robbed?! Oh my gosh, Y/N -”

“No, Michael!” you assured him. “For some reason, my phone plan isn’t working. I’m using someone else’s right now.”

“Oh, that blasted Phillip. I told him to make sure your phone plan was taken care of as I had to step into a meeting - you know I would have done it myself - and I guess he forgot. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’ll get Elise on it right now. Elise!” he screamed away from the phone for his secretary. “You’re in Bali now, right?” he confirmed.

“Um, no. Not yet.”

“What do you mean not yet?”

“Well, the plane had some maintenance issues and they couldn’t fly us out tonight. I’m in Hong Kong instead. We’re supposed to fly out tomorrow,” you explained.

“By yourself?! Where are you going to sleep? Oh honey no! Let me see what -”

“I’m not technically by myself,” you mumbled, just as Jimin was making his way towards you.

“What do you mean by ‘technically’, Y/N?” Michael asked.

“Just another passenger. It’s his phone I’m using. He seems nice,” you trailed off as Jimin sat down next to you, not wanting to talk about him while he was sitting within earshot. He flashed you a thumbs up and you returned it awkwardly, trying to calm down Michael’s growing apprehension.

“Y/N, you can’t just walk around Hong Kong with a stranger! And a man that you barely know?! Honey, how are you going to survive?” you rolled your eyes as the dramatics started to roll in. “You don’t even know Cantonese. If we’re quite honest, you can barely speak Korean. I knew Adele should have -”

“Weren’t you the one who told me to live in the moment? I’ll be okay Michael, just please get my phone on as soon as possible and add an additional travel notice on the card for Hong Kong so I can get something to eat. I’ll text you every hour on the hour with updates. This is Jimin’s number. Save it if you need to call me and my phone isn’t working. Thank you, Michael. You’re the best! I love you!” you hung up before he could protest.

“Is everything alright?” Jimin asked warily.

“Yep!” you chirped. “Absolutely!” Jimin’s eyes widened at your quick change in demeanor. “What do we do now?” Though it was almost 3:30 am and your stomach had started to grumble; your body was still on Eastern Standard Time.

“Well, I have a friend who lives here. He owns a hostel maybe 35 minutes away? I know we need some place to stay and I called him, explained what happened, and he’s more than willing to put us up for the night. I’m not sure if you’re down, but I knew it would be a lot cheaper than whatever hotel Joy was going to offer,” he replied.

You hesitated. Jimin was very much so a stranger. You had only had, at most, three full conversations. You only knew his first and last name, no idea what his actual occupation was and didn’t even know where he was from. He could quite honestly be some maniac looking to lure a pure, innocent girl to her doom. That girl being you. You bit your lip. Then again, you were already here alone, and if you didn’t go with Jimin, you would be alone in the very large, very empty Hong Kong International Airport. Deciding to take Michael’s words to heart, you decided to enjoy the moment and sent up a silent prayer that God had not decided your life would end at the hands of a certain toned-thighed man in the middle of the night.

“No, that sounds great. Thank you for including me,” you told him. He nodded and smiled.

“Of course. I’ll tell him to come get us.”

45 minutes later, you and Jimin were seated in the back of William Xiao’s trusty pickup truck along with his trusty sidekick Rosaline, a golden retriever. You had pictured William to be a younger man around Jimin’s age, but he was actually older - around mid-fifties - with greying hair. He navigated the streets of the city of Victoria easily in the early morning, the traffic was light as most people were still asleep. It was your favorite time and you felt relaxed against the leather seats as the wind lifted your hair, a small smile on your face. The tall skyscrapers glided past as you zoomed down the highway.

“So how long are you staying in Hong Kong this time, Chim?” William asked as he took the next exit.

“Ah, not long actually. We leave tomorrow hopefully,” Jimin responded, glancing over at you.

“And you’re going where again?”

“Bali. In Indonesia,” he repeated. William seemed to be a little forgetful and you chuckled at the thought.

“Right, right. And how long are you two staying there for?” he asked again.

“I’m not sure about Y/N,” his leg bumped against yours as William turned left, “but I’ll be there for maybe 2 weeks? I haven’t decided yet,” Jimin replied.

“Um, I’m there for 10 days. Well, I guess 9 now,” you corrected. You tried not to think about the impromptu changes. William nodded and continued driving through the empty streets, the car silent until Rosaline started barking.

“Oh be quiet old girl. I know we are almost home,” he hushed her and patted her head, her tail wagging excitedly in the seat.

William slowed and pulled his truck over to the side of the street. You stared out the window confused as you could only see small eateries. The street was actually filled with them, with everything from noodles to dumplings and rice bowls. Your mouth watered at the sight, though they all seemed to be closed and you frowned.

“Where’s the hostel?” you asked Jimin, turning to face him as William hopped out of his truck.

“You’re looking at it,” Jimin said and pointed to a narrow doorway right in front of where the truck was parked. Your brows deepened further in confusion. He laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll see.”

He exited the truck and you accepted his hand as you hopped down and shut the door, the distance much greater for you than Jimin. Rosaline greeted you on the sidewalk and you and Jimin showered her with love as she ran between you, clearly happy about the attention.

“Alright, Rosie. Calm down. You are going to wake the customers up,” William chided as he walked up the three steps of the narrow doorway and entered a passcode before ushering the three of you inside. He used a set of keys to open the second door and you entered the small lobby.

William’s hostel was airy and light, the pale grey walls with turquoise accents complementing each other well. A tiny front desk sat next to a glass door that read “Office” and a few turquoise chairs were positioned on the opposite side of the room. Different abstract paintings lined the wall above them, adding a touch of personality to the otherwise simple room. You were taken aback by how much space actually seemed to be available for use.

“This is lovely,” you complimented, walking over to get a better look. “I really like the artwork.” William beamed at you.

“Why thank you! They were a gift from Jimin,” he added. Jimin received the praise awkwardly and focused his attention on scratching Rosaline’s tummy.

Suddenly, the office door burst open and a petite woman stomped out while loudly whispering in what you assumed to be Cantonese. The two had a heated exchange while she angrily waved about a set of chopsticks and you worried she might poke poor William’s eyes out. It was only after William gestured behind him towards you that she peeked around William and spotted Jimin. Her face immediately brightened and she nearly ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist and giving him a tight squeeze. Jimin laughed as the two of them exchanged words and you stared at him in wonder at his knowledge of the native language. It was then that she finally noticed you.

“Uh, hi,” you said shyly, your face heating up slightly. You waved at her. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” She looked at Jimin expectantly. He translated and she nodded and waved back at you. You smiled.

“Y/N, this is Sonia, William’s wife. They run the hostel together,” Jimin explained.

“My wife only knows a little English. I am sorry,” William started to apologize.

“Oh no! Please don’t apologize. I’m sure we can communicate somehow,” you waved him off. Sonia said something to Jimin again and turned to you.

“Hungry?” she asked and made the motion to eat. You nodded furiously and she grinned. She beckoned you to follow her and took your hand, leading you to the office. Your eyes widened as you passed Jimin and he gave you an encouraging smile. He mouthed that he would be right there.

The office space was compact but functional. There was a little table and cushions as seats, a small refrigerator in the corner, and a few file cabinets tucked against the wall. Sonia gestured to the table for you to sit as she passed through another door, bringing three sets of chopsticks and bowls with her. You made to stand and help her, but she shooed you away so you sat quietly as she set the table. Jimin entered and you smiled at him, reassured at his presence.

“You didn’t tell me you could speak Cantonese!” you declared.

“You never asked,” he replied with a shrug as he sat across from you. “William’s gone to find us a room. I’m not sure if he has one with double occupancy, but he said he would check and see. I hope that’s okay.” You nodded as Sonia returned and placed a steaming plate of noodles in front of you.

“You eat, yes?” she asked. You nodded again and Sonia smiled as she served you and Jimin a large helping. You thanked her, grateful, and tucked in. Moaning in delight, you almost missed the way Jimin’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline.

“What?!” you giggled. “It’s really, really good.” Jimin only chuckled as he filled his mouth with food. Sonia set some drinks down in front of you before she sat down herself.

“How long have you and William been working at the hostel?” you asked after your stomach no longer felt like it was touching your spine.

“20 years,” Jimin translated around a mouth full of noodles.

“Wow! And you’ve been married that long too?”

“They’ve been married for 35 actually. Sonia used to work as a chef before she started helping William out,” Jimin answered.

You silently awed at her resilience and courage. Sonia was probably married at your age and starting a family while you were here wallowing in self-pity over a man who had proved to you time and time again that he didn’t want you. You shook the thoughts from your head so as to not ruin the end of a great night and instead focused on the flavor of Sonia’s cooking, the spiciness of the sauce welcomed.

The three of you made small talk as Jimin translated for Sonia and yourself. She was a remarkable woman who was headstrong and did as she pleased, much to the dismay of her husband. Her beauty did not leave her as she showed you some pictures from when she and William first got together; her face remained the same except for a few deep smile lines and the occasional silver streak through her shoulder-length hair. The two of them balanced each other out and you could only admire their love story as Jimin helped her with the dishes in the other room and Rosaline came to rest her head on your thighs.

“Well, it seems like I only have one room available for the two of you. I hope that is okay, Y/N,” William said as he poked his head around the door. He sniffed. “Was that black bean noodles?” You nodded and giggled as he called for Sonia, heading through the other open door. Jimin emerged with a key in his hand, snickering.

“William is quite upset Sonia didn’t save him some black bean noodles, though I’m sure I saw her set some aside for him in the fridge,” he laughed. “I told them I’d tell you goodnight. He told you about the room?”

“Yeah,” you replied, still petting Rosaline’s head and lost in your thoughts.

“Alright, I guess we can go then. It’s almost 5:45 am and we should definitely get some sleep to be on Hong Kong time.”

“What was it that you said? ‘Reset the Circadian rhythm before Bali’ was it?” you asked, mocking him. He rolled his eyes and grabbed your backpack.

“You’ll thank me one day, Shutterfly,” he warned as he held the office door open for you. “This way.”

You followed Jimin past the tiny desk and into the main common area with a little lounge and kitchen area set up for breakfast; you beamed when you saw the pots of coffee all cleaned and ready to go. Your body buzzed in anticipation and you couldn’t wait to smell the dark roast in the morning. You continued through to a set of stairs and climbed up to the fourth floor, your legs protesting another step as you realized how truly out of shape you were.

Room 408 was basically nonexistent. You had heard about the tiny rooms in Asia, but actually seeing one was astonishing. A thin wardrobe stood facing the bathroom door which was equally as boxy, but you were grateful that you didn’t have to share as you had heard other hostels do. The walls were painted the same grey color as downstairs but lacked the artwork. The full-sized bed took up the majority of the space in the room, a small nightstand table on its right side. You bit my lip as you thought about having to share the bed with Jimin, knowing how cramped we already were on the plane.

“Isn’t this cute?” Jimin murmured as he set your bags at the foot of the bed after shutting the door and held up the two small plush bears sitting on top of the towels. You laughed uncomfortably as you took the toy from him and set it on the dresser.

“Do you have a side of the bed you prefer?” you asked quietly, standing in the middle of the room, tugging on the sleeves of your hoodie.

“Nope,” Jimin replied, popping the ‘p’. “Lady’s choice.” He gestured to the bed and you blushed.

“Cool, well do you mind if I take a shower first?” He shook his head as he pulled out his book and phone charger. “Cool, cool. I’ll be fast,” you told him and shut yourself in the bathroom quickly with your backpack and one of the towels.

You exhaled and massaged your scalp as you tried to channel tranquility. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was only sleeping in a bed with a man. Something you’d done numerous times, both platonically and romantically throughout your life. This would be nothing different. Except it was Jimin. A man that knew how to adjust AF fine-tune on pricey cameras, read books for fun, and also spoke multiple languages. You groaned and turned on the hot water. You thought you had shut all thoughts of Jimin away in that tiny airplane stall, but you guess you’d missed a few stragglers.

The water pressure was weak when you stepped in but you were appreciative that the water was still hot at this time in the morning. You took a quick shower, wanting to save some of it for Jimin. It was steamy when you stepped out and you wiped the oval mirror clear with your hands. Your hair was slightly damp and your skin was flushed from the steam. You tugged on the sleep shirt you’d packed in your bag yesterday morning as well as a clean pair of panties that you always carried in your carry on in times of emergencies, glad you’d remembered to do so for this trip. Jimin turned his head towards you as you cracked the door open to peer around it, shielding your lower body from his gaze.

“All done?” he asked. You nodded. “I think Michael texted you? Oh, and the password for the wifi is written here, just in case you need it,” he said, holding up a piece of paper from the nightstand. You nodded again.

“Don’t look,” You told him quite seriously, pointing a warning finger towards him.

“Are you going to poke me with your finger if I don’t?” he teased, turning your words back on you and you were glad that your skin was already flushed so he couldn’t tell you were embarrassed again. “I’ll step out so you can sort out what you need. Shout when you’re done.” He padded out into the hallway and slowly closed the door behind him. You sighed in gratitude and slipped out of the bathroom, double-checking your cameras were still okay before plugging your phone charger into an outlet and diving under the covers.

“You can come in!” you yelled. Jimin double-checked that the coast was clear before he locked the door behind him and rummaged through his things. As he entered the bathroom, you set up the wifi on your phone and thumbed a quick message to Michael telling him you were safe and well-fed. His message came immediately after.

Michael: Thank God! I was so worried. What is this Jimin’s last name? You know we can never be too careful. [6:01].

Park. He seems alright. I took a shower and he didn’t try to kill me so I guess that’s a good sign. [6:02]

Michael: Y/N, this is no time to make jokes about your life; I’ve already asked for his social security number to give to police if anything seems suspicious. Please send me the address of where you are, just in case. Also, Elise said that your phone should be working now. What time are you supposed to leave Hong Kong? [6:04].

Michael you can’t just ask people that! Tell her I said thank you. And I will. I’ll get it from William in the morning. They’re supposed to put us on a flight tomorrow afternoon. I’ll update you as I find out more. It’s six in the morning here and I need to reset my Circadian rhythm apparently [6:06].

I’ll call you in the morning and we can talk about the video after I look at the suggestions [6:07].

Michael: If you’re alive by then… [6:07].

Michael: And who is this William?! Why are there so many men where you are and why was I not invited?! [6:08].

Michael! And William is the guy who owns the hostel. He’s like 55 and MARRIED. [6:08].

Michael: As if that’s ever stopped me ;) [6:09].

Michael: Kidding! Sort of. Please call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time it is. Be safe. Love you Y/N [6:09].

Even though you’re probably going to Hell, love you Michael [6:10].

You locked your phone just as Jimin exited the bathroom, steam wafting from behind him. Black basketball shorts hung low on his hips, the waistband of his Calvin Kleins peeking through as he finished towel drying his hair. His thin grey shirt clung to his chest from it not being completely dry and you sank further into the sheets. You covered your face and took a deep breath. It was just one night together in the same bed. It would all be fine.

“Did you get to talk to Michael?” he asked while sitting on the edge of the bed. You nodded. “Good. I didn’t want him to think I had kidnapped you and held you hostage before I murdered you.” You snorted as you sat up.

“He didn’t actually say that,” you laughed. “Right?” You stopped when Jimin didn’t correct you. “Oh my gosh, Jimin! I’m so sorry. Michael is almost as dramatic as he is protective and I’m sure he didn’t mean to -”

“Jimin?” Of course, he would focus on only one part of what you said.

“That’s your name isn’t it? What people call you?” you asked, fidgeting with the end of the sheet, now wondering if you’d missed something.

“Yes, but I like the way you say it more,” he said with a grin, his wavy hair falling into his eyes. You groaned and threw the other small plush bear at him. He caught it easily.

“Are you always like this?” you interrogated.

“Like what? Devilishly handsome?” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows at you and you laughed again.

“No, extremely insufferable,” you replied. He laughed and the sound bounced off the walls, wrapping you up in its tone. He covered his mouth to try and stifle the sound. His grin cracked through him biting his lip, and you bit your own in response.

“For someone who finds me so insufferable, you sure do mirror my actions a lot,” he said with a chuckle. You released your lower lip and blushed.

“You are so cocky, Park Jimin!”

“I mean, once you Jim-in, you can’t Jim-out!” He shot you the finger guns before he realized what he had actually said. “I mean, not that I’m trying to fuck you -” your eyes widened “- I mean, if you’re down for that then I am too. 100%. Like seriously, fuck. I just meant that it wasn’t my intention to -” you hollered into the pillow as the words tumbled from his mouth. His smile was shy as he stood from the bed and set the bear on the nightstand with its partner. “We should go to sleep,” he mumbled and switched off the light. He cursed as he stubbed his toe on the corner of the wrought iron bed frame and you could only continue giggling at his misfortune.

“I’m glad my pain amuses you,” he said into the dark, his voice much closer than you expected. “Did you set an alarm?” You shook your head and he set one on his phone as he plugged both of your phones up to charge. He scooted back down and wiggled around like a dog circling their bed until he was comfortable, his back now facing you. “Goodnight Y/N,” he whispered over his shoulder.

“Goodnight Jimin,” you breathed.

You laid still on your back, your arms crossed over your stomach as you listened to Jimin’s breathing slow. The space between you was microscopic and you were acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body as the air conditioning blasted from the unit in the window. You turned over onto your side gingerly, facing the wall. It had been a while since you were in bed with a man and Jimin’s flustered words echoed in your brain as you pressed my thighs together. Speculating that he was interested in you was one thing, but having him admit it - even if it was only sexually - was conflicting. You scrunched your eyes shut tight as you locked away any inappropriate thoughts of what it would be like to not “Jim-out”.

You sighed in content as you pressed your body closer to his chest. One of his strong arms wrapped around your torso, the other tucked under your head, and his breath tickled the back of your neck as he quietly snored behind you. Your fingers traced along the curve of his palm while your brain slowly came to. Your legs were tangled under the sheet, intertwined with one another as you ran your foot up the back of his calf, surprised by the lack of hair you felt; Tiago’s legs were never this smooth.

Squinting in the lazy haze of the sunlight that peeked from underneath the curtain above you, you turned over. Instead of seeing tight blond curls lying against the pillow, you were met with the faint traces of black bean noodles and soft black waves. Opening your eyes properly, your eyes focused on Jimin’s parted lips. You jolted as you realized his soft embrace had caused you to remember your moments with Tiago. You stiffened when Jimin’s hand tightened around your waist and he pressed his hand against the small of your back, your t-shirt having ridden up in the middle of the night. It was then that you realized his own t-shirt had been discarded and your arms were trapped against his chest, his gold chain pooled around his neck.

Shit. You didn’t want to wake him, but you needed to get out of his hold, the triggering memories of Tiago too much to handle in this state. You tried to gently press against his chest with your arms, but Jimin only shuffled closer. You watched his eyebrows furrow in discomfort as your legs bumped one another’s before he ran his hand over the curve of your ass, along the back of your thigh, and hooked your leg over his hip. Your hips were perfectly aligned. You held your breath as Jimin exhaled, his face neutral, at peace and he rested his head on top of yours.

You pushed against his chest again and he groaned softly in his sleep as he rolled onto his back, not forgetting to bring your leg with him. Your head was against his bare chest and you heard the soft thump! of his heart. You closed your eyes and listened to it, lost in its steady beat for a moment before you remembered that you were trying to get out of his grasp and not succumb to it.

Pressing up onto your elbow, you double-checked he was still sleeping before you shifted to hover over him. Your knees were over his hips taking all of your weight as you tried your best not to press into the pillow with your hands, but not letting your ass brush against his lower abdomen. His abdominal muscles were almost as tight as the ones in his thighs and just as defined. You remembered his comment suggesting you should have asked to sit in his lap and you bit back a smile at your current predicament. Jimin shifted beneath you again and you froze, your smile dropping. He settled again and you exhaled; your heart couldn’t handle the back and forth.

The vibration of your phone startled you and you stumbled out of the bed to silence the call, nearly dragging the rest of the sheets off Jimin.

“Hello?” you answered in a whisper. You adjusted the sheets around his sleeping frame as he rolled over onto this stomach, his arm stretching out into your vacated spot.

“Y/N, why haven’t you called me back?” Adele’s voice rang out over the line. Had you seen it was her, you would have ignored the call. You slipped into the bathroom after grabbing your toothbrush and prayed the door would muffle some of the conversation.

“I’ve been on a plane, Adele. I haven't exactly had service to call anyone,” you stated, matter-of-factly.

“Well, where are you now? And why are you speaking so quietly?” she questioned.

“A hostel in Hong Kong. I don’t want to -”

“Hostel?!” she shrieked. “Oh Y/N darling, I know I raised you better than to wallow in low-class establishments like hostels,” she continued. You could picture the look of disgust on her face. You did not have enough energy to deal with her in your coffee-withdrawn state. Your temper was short.

“It’s actually very clean. We all can’t afford to live in unnecessary luxury like you, Adele,” you said while brushing your teeth. You spat at the thought of her in her high-end clothes and brownstone home paid for by different men.

“Your brother didn’t seem to mind the high-end luxury when he was here,” she replied smugly. you paused.

“When he was where?” you asked.

“Home. With me.” Her shit-eating tone was quite evident. “But you wouldn’t have known that.”

“Milo came home?” you asked again in disbelief.

Your relationship with your younger brother wasn’t as strained as your mother’s, but you weren’t on the best of terms either. You hadn’t seen him in five years. You still remembered how peaceful he looked as he slept when you kissed him goodbye. His calls and messages eventually stopped after a few months of you not answering.

“Of course he came home,” Adele snapped. “Miles enjoys spending time with his mother.”

You ignored her dig towards me. “How long is he staying?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Maybe you should have told me you were in New York and not run off on the next available flight -”

“You know, at this point, I’m not convinced Milo even came by. You’re just gaslighting me to come home after all these years and it’s not going to happen, Adele. Stop wasting your time and stop calling my phone outside of emergencies,” your voice slightly raised as you rinsed your toothbrush off in the sink.

“You’ve become so bitter, Y/N. I never forced you to leave; you left on your own accord -”

“You didn’t want me!” you yelled into the phone.

“If that’s what you want to believe, then fine,” she said indifferently. “I’ll prove to you I wasn’t lying about Milo,” she sneered. She never liked the nickname you gave her son. Her prized possession.

“Don’t call him that,” you growled, the emotion welling up in your chest.

“I’ll call him whatever I want. You’re lucky I was in a good mood when I gave him your number and I hadn’t spoken to you before -”

“Goodbye, Adele.” You hung up the phone and braced yourself against the sink.

Your body shook as you tried to process what exactly had occurred. Milo was back in New York. Your precious baby brother was back home. Unless Adele was manipulating you again, Milo could be reaching back out after you had fucked your relationship up. She had given him your number. A sob wracked your shoulders and you covered your mouth to stifle the sound. Silent tears ran down your cheeks and you wiped them away furiously, upset that you were wasting tears on a situation so old.

“Shutterfly?” you gasped as you turned to face the door, a sleepy Jimin poking his head around it. “Hey, are you okay? You weren’t in bed - Wait, are you crying?” He pushed the door open further and stepped inside.

“No,” you lied and turned back to the sink, splashing your face with cold water. You pleaded with the Lord that he wouldn’t be able to see your shoulders shake as you tried to control your breathing. You shut off the water as Jimin turned you to face him.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He held your face in his hands, searching it for the answer to his question. You felt small under his gaze and extremely conscious of the little amount of clothes you were both wearing. You shook your head, trying to tell him it was nothing, that you were fine. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it. Can I give you a hug instead?”

“No,” you whispered. “I’d prefer if you didn’t right now.” He stroked his thumbs against your cheeks once more before he let go and stepped back. You didn’t miss the flicker of disappointment that flashed against his face as he nodded. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, finally feeling like you were back in control. “I would prefer if you brushed your teeth though. Your breath smells like noodles,” tiy said as you squeezed past him.

Jimin’s 10:30 am alarm went off as you were heading downstairs for breakfast, his teeth brushed and both of you dressed. You practically sprinted to the coffee machine and chose the biggest cup possible. There were a few other guests milling around the lounge area as breakfast was officially over, but Sonia had prepared something extra for you and Jimin knowing we were still extremely jetlagged, the 12 hour time difference taking a toll on your bodies.

Jimin was dressed casually again. A pair of olive green slim cargo shorts, an oversized black t-shirt, and the same black, white, and grey Jordans on his feet. His hair fell into his face as he helped himself to the instant noodles and fried egg Sonia served him, the two of them looking like mother and son as they chatted. It seemed as though Jimin also followed the same “pack additional clothes in your carry on” rule.

You sighed as you took your first sip of coffee, hugging the cup protectively between both hands. Closing your eyes in bliss, you let the hot drink soothe your nerves from last night and this morning, your conversation with Adele almost a distant memory. The energy flowed through you as you opened your laptop to read Julia’s updates, finally feeling prepared to handle whatever was thrown at you.

Hello Y/N!

Julia here. Thank you again for taking on our project. Michael was right to recommend you; your portfolio is absolutely stunning. As you know, we’re looking to promote our getaway package in Bali. Though we do want high-quality content, the company was wondering if you would be able to deliver a more “amateur” romantic feel. We’re marketing towards couples and would love to see some shots that represent that. You don’t have to be in any of the shots yourself, but it would be great if you could! I understand this is quite short notice, but I have complete faith in your ability to deliver.

Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any further questions!

Best,

Julia.

She had attached a few photographs of smiling couples on the beach and at dinner for reference. You groaned and rubbed your temples. You didn’t think there was enough coffee in the world that would be able to address these minor inconveniences. Intimacy was not your thing. Romance was not your thing. Love was not your thing, and yet here Julia was telling you to make those things a thing. A reality. You gulped down another mouthful of coffee, burning your tongue in the process.

“Food?” Sonia asked, pushing a plate across the wooden bench table in front of you. You smiled in thanks and began eating though not really tasting the food. Jimin’s eyes watched you carefully and you sighed, already knowing he was going to ask you if you were okay.

“Just work stuff, Jimin, nothing to worry about,” you said.

“You make it hard to not worry about you though,” he murmured, avoiding your eyes. “Sonia said you shouldn’t be working while you’re here, that you need to enjoy the city before you go,” he added.

“Tell her I have a really big project to complete and I appreciate her concern, but I can’t just ignore work,” you replied, pushing your fried egg around your bowl. Jimin translated again and Sonia shook her head before walking away. You hoped you hadn’t offended her.

“Is this for your Saipan video?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I got contracted by a travel company to create a “vlog” type advertisement for a getaway package they’re selling to Bali. Julia, the contact, sent over some new additions while we were on the flight and I’m not sure how I’m going to get it done, but they expect me to deliver, especially since Michael recommended me,” you finished.

“What exactly do you have to do?”

“Basically be in love and capture it on film.” Your mouth turned down in disgust at the thought. Jimin laughed at you. You turned your laptop to face him so he could read the email to show him you weren't joking.

“That doesn’t seem so hard,” he commented after he was done.

“For you.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Love is a beautiful thing. It’s everywhere if you think about it. I mean, look at Sonia and William. Don’t you remember the first time you fell in love? The pleasure it brought you, the happiness. You can’t tell me you don’t want to experience love like that again,” he said seriously.

You faked thinking about it. “Nope. I think I’m good.” You stood and poured yourself a second cup of coffee, wishing you could pour all the memories of Tiago down the drain. Especially after this morning. You tugged on your ears, the blood rushing to them as usual.

“That’s what you think, but I’m sure I can change your mind,” he said with his shit-eating grin. You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, Shutterfly. All you need is my true love and affection -” Jimin was interrupted by Sonia dragging William over to you, an envelope in her hands. She shoved it in his and waited for him to start speaking.

“Uh,” William scratched the back of his head, “Sonia wanted me to give these to you.” He handed the envelope to you. Sonia smacked his shoulder and gestured for him to continue before she turned her expectant gaze on you. “She said you should not worry about work and you should go and enjoy Hong Kong so she is gifting you with tickets to the Hong Kong Museum of Fine Art. It is a ten-minute walk and Jimin can show you his -”

“- favorite exhibits. Right. Thank you, William and Sonia,” Jimin interjected.

“You’ll go, right?” Sonia asked eagerly. You opened your mouth to protest but didn’t have the heart to say no to her in her bunny apron. Not when she had worked so hard to make sure you were comfortable and well-fed. But also because you didn’t want her to attack you with her wooden chopsticks. You nodded and she clapped in excitement before she started going off a mile a minute at William who cowered slightly away from her. Jimin chuckled at their interaction.

“Isn’t love amazing, Y/N?” he said wistfully as he cleared the table. You rolled your eyes and texted Michael that you’d seen the email, Julia was out of her mind, but you would do your best to complete the task so you wouldn’t disappoint along with the address of the hostel.

After returning your laptop to your shared room, you and Jimin set off for the museum in the sweltering sun. You were overjoyed that you’d chosen to wear your dark t-shirt from yesterday, though you were still conscious of your sweat stains being visible. Jimin looked elated as you walked through the busy streets and you struggled to keep up, your own Jordans way out of time with his own.

“So you have favorite exhibits here?” you asked slightly out of breath. He slowed as if he just realized how far behind you were.

“Yeah, I was here a few months ago and stopped by. They have some pretty cool stuff here.”

You continued walking and you gasped as the museum came into view. Perched on the edge of the water, the building stretched along the harbor. Its walls were textured and stone grey. Clear blue windows peeked through the exterior and there was a steady stream of people loitering outside. You wished you’d brought your camera as you snapped a few photos of the impressive architecture on your phone.

Inside was just as magnificent with its low lights and marble flooring. The cool air conditioning was an additional plus as you and Jimin stood in the lobby. A large sign displayed all of the pertinent information about the exhibits available for view. You’d always been a sucker for museums and you felt lighter just being there.

“Aren’t you happy you came?”

“Very,” you whispered, looking around in awe. “Hey look!” You pointed to the exhibit directory, “Garland Sans has an exhibit showing.”

“Hmm?”

“Garland Sans. Michael said he’s having an exhibit in New York in a few weeks and wants to go. It’d be cool to see some of his work before then. I’m not too familiar with his stuff,” you explained. Jimin nodded.

“Yeah, sure. We can start with some selected works from the Chih Lo Lou Collection and work our way through?” he suggested. You nodded and followed him to the second floor, excitement thrumming in your veins.

You’d spent the better part of three hours roaming all of the floors in the museum with Jimin and spending most of your time at the Xubaizhai exhibit, the afternoon rolling in with ease. You were lost in the stories of the Ming and Qing dynasties, amazed at how detailed the small villages were depicted using ink and color. It was like reading the stories of their lives. It also didn’t hurt that Jimin was there to translate the calligraphy on some of the scrolls. He seemed to enjoy the Garland Sans exhibit less and you debated the motives behind each painting endlessly. Unsurprisingly, he was well-versed in the arts, more so than you and something he chalked up to hanging out with too many artsy folks, and you wondered what else you would learn about him.

“Don’t museums make you just want to fall in love?” Jimin nudged you with his elbow as you headed back to the lobby. You laughed loudly.

“Not at all.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything in your cold, dead heart as we walked around the museum. You looked so content and at peace,” he added.

“I was. That was the effect of the artwork, not you.”

“So you don’t think I belong in the Greek statue exhibit at the MET Museum?” He flexed his arms behind his head as he winked at me. You did your best to ignore the flutter in your belly as you disagreed with him. “It’s okay. I’ll win you over. Even if it’s only for a really good video. I haven’t forgotten that I’m your muse.” You shook your head at his usual attempt to flirt when his phone rang in his pocket.

“Yes?” he answered, irritated. It sounded out of place from his usual casual tone. He excused himself and you sat on a bench in front of the museum to wait for him.

The view of the harbor was stunning and you welcomed the gentle breeze keeping you cool in the 84-degree heat. You took a short video of the boats drifting at the dock, a few of them further out bobbing along with the waves. Your own phone buzzing distracted you from the serene riverscape, Adele’s name appearing on the screen with a picture attachment. You opened it and nearly dropped your phone.

Adele: Told you so. [16:57].

Below it, a photo of her and your brother. He was smiling into the camera as the two of them posed. Milo’s face had lost its chubbiness, his jaw more angular and his cheekbones more pronounced. His dimples were just as deep and matched the same pair Adele sported. That particular gene had skipped you; you got stuck with the freckles. His hair was cut short, different from the long floppy locks he used to wear in high school. How he had managed to take this photo without Adele ripping that gold hoop out of his nose was beyond you and you smiled seeing that your rebellious little brother was still there. Milo really had come home.

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#jimin x reader #jimin fluff #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfic #BTS jimin #fic: bitter and beloved

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disaster-bay-leaf · 3 years

Note

Ok so these were the cutest~ (ㆁωㆁ)

4, 6, 7, 9, 12, 19, 22, 23, 28, 33, 34, 46, 47, 52, 59, 60, 63, 66, 83, 87, 88, 93, 99

I kno I listed like....all of them lmao but feel free to answer whichever you want and ofc you can ask me in return Baybe ( ◜‿◝ )♡

uHUHUHUHU much content for me to answer, im happy bebe 💜💜💜✨

4 - how do you take your coffee/tea?

hm coffee either Very Black No Sugar (for the sleep deprived me) or iced latte three sugars and theres no in between

and as for tea its All Black Teas That Exist, cinnamon-flavoured especially (but basically all teas that come to mind when u think “autumn”), and rooibos!!! okay basically the only oke i dont like is any type of green tea (which is sad because they look cool but my tastebuds said ✨no✨)

6 - do you keep plants?

honestly id l o v e too because i love plants but,,, im kinda horrible at taking care of them though still way better than the majority of my family (research helps) so the only plant i own is kinda a small-palm-tree-looking thing in a bigass glass jar that i saved from my mother’s plant-destructing hands and its mostly doing well (the ends of its leaves are starting to be yellow tho and im worried:((( )

7 - do you name your plants?

yes!!! though the current one was named by my sister and its called “pickett” after fantastic beasts shsjjsj

9 - do you like singing/humming to yourself?

oh god oh dude you have n o idea

i have absolutely n o singing voice but its something i do constantly to give my brain the right amount of stimuli so basically i listen to music 24/7 and hum to myself 99% of that time

12 - whats your favourite planet?

oh i actually didnt think about this for so long but either pluto (hes a planet screw nasa) or saturn (RINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) or venus (girls,,,and libra,,,)

19 - do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw in it?

okay im gonna be completely honest with yall and say that my every single try at keeping a journal failed spectacularly and i lost motivation after like a few months so my only journals rn are my fancy fake-leather-bound calendar to note tests and assessments into, a kinda roughed up notebook that i uses for noting down poems or scribbling or passing notes in class, and a kinda fancy bullet journal notebook that i used as a book of shadows for a while but since my fountain pen died i didnt touch it

22 - are you a morning person?

n o

i am so not a morning person but i wish i could be because honestly dawns are beautiful

but as it is rn im either sleep deprived all the time and loathe every second of being in an awake state or (if i have a few days of schoolbreak) my biological clock moves forward a few hours and i sleep 2am-10am

23 - whats your favourite thing to do on lazy days with zero obligations?

except for the fact that i dont remember the last time it happened, i would probably spend it drawing outside, watching anime with my sister and riding a bike around the forest

28 - sunrise or sunset?

i love sunrises because its so peaceful and everyone is asleep but also i subconsciously immediately correlate them with waiting for a train to take me to school (because thats basically the only time i see them) so its a bittersweet love especially with my fucked up biological clock

but sunsets are really really pretty too and i see them more often so i cant choose

33 - whats your fave pastry?

and isnt that a millior-dollar question dhsjjsjsj

either cinnamon rolls (i absolutely adore them) or that one specific type of cupcake-shaped-thing made out of shortcrust/bread/whatever its called and filled with vanilla pudding

34 - tell us about a stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

awwww this is cute

okay so basically my two favourite stuffed animals (i still have them, they sit in my wardrobe) were two teddy bears (like maybe 20cm high each of them) and one was pure brown and the other was silver-brown and they had stereotypical polish male names “Waldek” (read. Valdek) and Stefan (i think tho im not sure if i remember correctly, my memory is a feeble thing sometimes

46 - tell us the worst pun you can think of

what dog would never bite you? a hot dog *badumtss*

47 - what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

huh a year ago id say pineapple pizza but i guess i dont hate pineapples that much anymore (tho putting them on pizza is still an abomination) but i think that if id ever want to get rid of anything it would be parsley, i hate that freakin herb (does it count as food tho)

52 - what are your favourite memes of the year so far?

the ever given for sure shsjshjsjsjsjjsj

but bullying tramp stamps is gold and pure tumblr energy too

as for fandom memes: im in love with all keeping-up-with-the-todorokis variations and the fact that the entire bsd fandom looked at fukuchi and said “biTCH” and thats one of the only things we’re unanimous about

59 - whats your favourite myth?

i always liked the kora/persephone myth (though demeter is an overbearing parent to the nth power), loki and thor crossdressing at a party to get mjolnir back, atalanta because shes a queen and id politely ask her to kick my ass, and cassandra because she deserved better, and theres a l o t more because alas i was a mythology nerd but this post is long enough for me not to make this section 20 times longer sjjsjsjsjsjks

but there are a lot of slavic myths that are very cool too, though we dont know that much about them as about the greeks for example

60 - do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

o o o o h yeah i do like poetry because to create such a beautifully sounding thing with only words someone has to be a genius

some of my favs are: some works of nakahara chuuya (thank u bsd for introducing me to this man’s beautiful imagery in his works i swear to god the descriptions do it for me) (also his poem about having hangovers is a mood like i feel you buddy), the raven by ea poe (i know everyone likes it but hOLY DAMN THE INTER/INTRAVERSE RHYMES ARE LIKE,,, BREATHTAKING) (and aso im a slut for gothic horror), and many more but also That One Poem From Welcome To Nightvale about reaching the island in the west,,, only perfect vibes from it

63 - are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organised or kinda leave them be?

okay heres the thing. for anyone else both my playlist library and my bookshelf would be considered pure chaos of a mad man b u t they actually have a highly focused system which means that i sort them based on their vibes, lovability and (in case of books) their age and whether or not theyre a part of a series so i would say my bookshelf is rather organised (when a quarter of it isnt occupying my desk that is) and my music is more organised than not but sometimes it gets out of control and i have to sort it entirely again

66 - what would your ideal flower crown look like?

either entirely constructed of simple white daisies, entirely constructed of only white roses, or something that probably would win a “how many different coloured flowers can one fit in a flower crown” competition

or something purple (maybe not belladonna)

83 - whats some of your favourite album art?

god i dont know if it counts but hozier’s wasteland baby is probably one of my absolute favourites and no one shall beat that

“thrifted youth” (dalynn) and “standard deviation” (danny schmidt) have very aesthetic covers too

also the iconic p!atd too weird to live, too rare to die! album cover,,, its just iconic what can i say

and last but not least matt meason’s pink-and-black album covers (though bank on the funeral is really pretty too but like,,, “who killed matt meason” d o e s it for me and so does the 2017 tribulation single)

87 - what are some movies that you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

this is such a hard question because im not a really cinematography-oriented gal but i suppose that (at the risk of not going deep enough into the cinema world):

- the princess bride

- inception

- night at the museum

- SPIRITED AWAY

- forrest gump

- truman show

- E.T. (i cried okay)

- the lord of the rings (because damn me if this isnt one impressive adaptation)

- parasite

and one more personal recommendation: “ready or not” with samara weaving because goddamn i dont usually watch this genre but holy s h i t is it good

93 - whats the hairstyle you wear the most?

honestly just plain hair down (because having curly hair is a menace), split in the middle when i have longer hair and split on one side when its short

also low ponytails or half-up-half-down when im exercising, or double french braids when my hair doesnt cooperate enough to look presentable in any other form

99 - list some songs that resonate with your soul whenever you hear them

this is difficult because my music taste is a goddamn rollercoaster on a good day, but heres some:

- me and the sky from “come from away” musical (this is sort of a test song for my mental stability, if i cry i aint stable)

- dancing after death by matt meason (okay most songs by matt meason except for like,,, hallucinogenics maybe)

- tears and rain by james blunt

- i will follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie

- almost home by mxmtoon

- anything by hozier really but shrike especially

- payphone, the cover by alex g (i cried to this song so many times)

- burning pile by mother mother (can i roast all my problems please)

- long way from home and cleopatra by the lumineers

- autoclave by the mountain goats

oooh that was c o o o o o o o l as fuck thank you sm so much bebe (and sorry for the long post @everyone else)

#smadhuman being pure af #bay answers #long post #very long post #ask #asks

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x-reader-theater · 5 years

Text

Hold me Tight, for the Days are Long {5}

Relationship: Geralt of Rivia X Male!Disabled!Reader

Summary: Pain is only temporary, especially in the company of those you like.

Warnings: Cursing, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Word Count: 1866 words

A/N: So, guess who’s been dead? Me, that’s who. I had a very very bad illness that just wasn’t going away but I’m not dead anymore! Tomorrow I should be posting the conclusion to this series but don’t expect anything else from me in a while. I just started up school again which means I don’t want to write anything for myself. Pretty much all my creativeness is going towards school work. I guess I can reveal that I’ve had ideas for a third and final story, I don’t think that’s a secret. I’ve probably seen it before. Anyways, please like, reblog, and comment! I may not reply but I always read every single comment and I look through the tags of reblogs so if you say something, I’ll see it! Without further ado, here’s chapter 5 of Hold me Tight, for the Days are Long

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Chapter 5: Just Tell me You Arrogant Prick.

Your fingers come back to you first. Your entire body is tingling, except for your fingers. You feel them moving, cracking from their lack of use. You have no idea how long you've been out to elicit that reaction.

Next are your toes. You feel them wiggle, not within the confines of your boots, but against a blanket or a sheet of some kind.

Then, your ankles and wrists, up through your arms and your legs to your hips and shoulders. You feel your whole right arm spasm and you almost think your left arm should as well. That's when you remember what happened you groan in pain as flashes of it come back to you, one by one.

You hear something moving beside you and a very recognizable, deep voice. While being recognizable to you, you can't quite place it.

"[Y/N]? [Y/N], can you hear me?" the voice calls out. You feel whoever it is grab your hand. They're not soft, like you're expecting, but rough, calloused, and so achingly familiar.

You groan again, not in answer but in pain. Your eyes shoot open as your hand grabs for your side but you squeeze them shut again once the light and pain hits.

Another hand holds down your silver arm, as well as the one of flesh attached to you. You struggle, tossing yourself side to side on the bed you're on, trying to throw your assailant off you, but it's no use. They're stronger than you in a lot of ways. And, your side in killing you right about now.

So, you stop. You go limp. And you let your eyes flutter open.

Leaning over you, his long white hair hanging around his face, let out of its' signature half-up look, is Geralt. His yellow eyes are wild, undone, and, even, a little bit nervous.

Scratch that. A lot a bit nervous.

"Geralt?" you manage to squeak out. Your voice is gone. Without any water, you can barely hear your voice through the cracks.

Geralt lets go of your left arm and places his hand on top of his other, which is still holding onto your hand. "[Y/N]..." His voice is soft, softer than you've ever heard it. It's kind, kinder than you think he's ever been in his entire life. It's also so… perfect.

You smile something small, like a secret held between the two of you, and say through cracked lips and shaking voice, "It seems I was the damsel in need of rescuing, Geralt."

He laughs at that, almost certainly thinking back to when you saved him before, all those years ago in that cave. It felt like a lifetime ago.

And honestly, it was.

You were a different person then. And so was Geralt. You wanted things so badly in your life and Geralt showed you the truth. But you also brought out a side to him he doesn't show much anymore. There was a playfulness to him that he hides away. Maybe it got someone hurt. Maybe it got him hurt. You don't know. But that playfulness is gone. Replacing it is a hardness in his eyes you've never known before.

But you can't say you haven't changed. Your own playfulness is diminished. You've found a path you wish to stay on, something you make good money doing and even though you haven’t had your hardships, you're still alive to tell the tale. You know you would be dead without Geralt there to save you, and your heart clenches at that. And it's at that moment you realize you are so incredibly, hopelessly in love with Geralt of Rivia.

And that scares you.

"Could you get me some water?" you ask quietly, and Geralt just nods and gets you his waterskin, pouring it into your mouth when your arms don't move like you want them to. Your mind is sluggish as you drink your water, but just as soon as it's given, it's taken away from you. You sigh contentedly and say quietly, "Thank you, Geralt of the Witchers," before your eyes close and you're asleep once more.

You don't hear what Geralt says to you before you drift off into your dreamless sleep.

You wake up slowly this time, but you can also feel your whole body again. Not just the pain but also the way the scratchy blanket feels on your skin, how the bedroll you're on presses up against you, and against the ground. It's not comfortable by any stretch of the word. But it's livable.

You start to sit up with a groan and Geralt reaches out his hands to help you. You feel them, on the small of your back, on your right forearm. You look around then back up into his eyes. You smile at him and say quietly, “Thank you.” He just smiles and nods. You look around slightly, still trying to get your bearings, and you say to Geralt, “Where’s Jaskier?”

“Right here,” Jaskier says from behind you. You go to look but hiss in pain when you contort your body. He sounds bored like he doesn’t want to be here.

You let Geralt help you turn around so you’re facing him. You ask him, “How are you? Didn’t get caught up in the fight I see.” It sounds snarkier than you intended, and you just hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.

Your hopes don't come true.

"Yes well, we can't all be stupid…" he says. Geralt growls and goes to say something, but you hold up your hand. His mouth closes.

"No. We can't. Even I'm not that good. Did you hear my rib when it cracked?" you ask. You see him start to relax a bit, his walls falling slightly. "You're useful Jaskier."

He smiles at that. "I applied your healing salve to your ribs…"

You smile. "So that's why I was so numb when I first woke up!" you exclaim. "Thank you, Jaskier. You've done more for me than you'll know."

You know it won't repair your relationship with him, what little you had in the first place, but it's a start.

"I need to get back into town, collect onna payment I'm owed…" you say, moving to get up slowly. Geralt doesn't let you. His grip on your arm tightens.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Geralt asks quietly.

You shrug. "Don't really have much of a choice, now do I?"

Geralt leans in close, his nose so close you can feel him exhaling through it. "But you do. Run away. Forget this life. Don't hurt yourself anymore."

You look at him. You don't say anything. You just watch his eyes. His yellow eyes that had encapsulated you all that time ago. Now, they seemed dull. Without life. Uninspired. He doesn't have the motivation for life anymore. He's living life just like you.

"And what about you? Huh? Why haven't you run away?" You move closer to him, if that's even possible. You feel the breath from his lips on yours. You squint your eyes as his get wider. "What about you? Why haven't you done anything? Why haven't you left?"

"Because I'm a Witcher. I can't just walk away!" he exclaims.

"And neither can I," you say calmly, sitting up more, meaning you get even more in Geralt's face. "I'm already too deep in this to let go. Same as you." You reach out a place a hand on his arm. "But there's no way I'm leaving you again."

Geralt just watches you, not saying anything, not doing anything. There's something in his eyes you haven't seen in a very long time. It's something you yourself have lost sight of. You thought you would never see it again.

You see hope.

"Oh my gods," you hear Jaskier groan next to you two. "Just kiss already!"

Geralt blushes slightly and looks away, something you definitely have never seen before. But you don't let him slip away. You turn his face and kiss him. Not hard. There's no lust behind it. It's soft. Sweet. Hopeful.

You pull away and he says softly, "We'll go back into town tomorrow."

You smile and kiss him again.

Your ride into town is quiet. Peaceful. Jennis is trailing behind you as you ride with Geralt on Roach. You saw how jealous is made Jaskier, and you just looked at him apologetically. It was the only way to aspease Geralt right now. The town itself isn't large. The amount of people in it you could probably count up to.

Geralt stops in front of the pub and he slides off. He holds his hand out to you and you take it. You slide off Roach and land on the ground hard. You grab your side and hiss in pain as pressure is put on your wound. Geralt puts an extra hand on you but you wave it away. You can do this yourself.

"I'll be out in a moment," you say gently to Geralt. He goes to protest but you cut him off. "Don't follow me. I promise I'll be alright." He just nods.

You walk into the Pub, not even looking behind you as the doors close behind Geralt and Jaskier. You walk across the wooden floors, your boots hitting the ground in uneven steps. You hold your side as people look over at you for a moment before turning back to their drinks, partners, or sorrows. Sometimes all three.

You slowly but surely make your way to the little dark corner in the wide reaching room. You push past those in your way, hissing in pain as a few knock into your sides. But you keep on moving, ever determined. Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only a minute, you sit down across from the mysterious person who commissioned you all those days ago.

"It's done," you say quietly, placing a hand on the table and leaning forward. There's pain in your voice but you hope your determination masks it, if at all slightly.

You can just barely see the figures lips as they're pulled into an impressed smile. "Good. Here's your payment. As promised."

They set a large sack of coins on the table and you reach out quickly, snatching it. You place it in your satchel next to your side and look up at the person sitting in front of you.

You go to get up, but they grab your wrist. At least, it feels like they're grabbing your wrist, but they haven't moved their actual hand. You look at them in shock but all they say is, "Be careful. You don't know how much it would break him if you left."

You wrench your hand free and turn, confused and angry at the person for holding you, and you walk out. But not before catching a glimpse of long dark brown hair fall out in waves from the hood.

You walk out to Geralt who looks like he's been shaking to go after you, but you place a hand on his shoulder and he immediately stops moving.

"Let's go."

#Geralt #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x male reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia x male reader #geralt of rivia x male!reader #male reader #Jaskier #jaskier dandelion #dandelion #the witcher #geralt of the witchers #my work #My writing

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thesunnyshow · 4 years

Text

Name: Alana

Writing Blog URL(s): @jinyoungsir

What fandom(s) do you write for?: GOT7, BTS, Monsta X, Stray Kids, Ateez, NCT

Age: 27

Nationality: American

Languages: English

Star Sign: Aries

MBTI: I’m not sure. I’ve taken the test so many times but I never remember the result.

Favorite color: Black

Favorite food: Potatoes! All forms of potatoes!!

Favorite movie: Harry Potter? Jurassic Park/World? Twister? Jaws? I love movies...it’s so hard to choose!

Favorite ice cream flavor: Vanilla with lots of fudge & brownie bits.

Favorite animal: Tigers! I like big cats and the way they move.

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering?: Coffee- Peppermint White Mocha HOT! Or any flavor tea hot or cold as long as it’s sweetened!

Dream job (whether you have a job or not): Writing and Traveling. Something far from the 9-5, ‘working for the man’ type of job.

Go-to karaoke song: ‘Shoop’ by Salt-N-Pepa (thank u Deadpool)

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose?: The ability to manipulate time because I am late for everything and also, I would 100% pause the timeline for a little mental health break once a day.

If you could visit a historical era, which would you choose?: Idk if this counts but I low-key would have loved to be a pirate. So whatever timeline that fits into.

If you could restart your life, knowing what you do now, would you?: No, thank you. I already have a defiance disorder. I’m not going to be under 18 ever again. I like doing what I want when I want as an adult lol. Everything turned out okay.

Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized horses or one horse-sized chicken?: 100 chicken-sized horses. I hope I drown in them. What a dream.

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been?: I AM a teen highschool movie trope lol my husband and I met in school at fourteen.

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures?: YES, because the world is just too big for there not to be.

Fun fact about yourself that not everyone would know?: I stopped eating pizza for several years for no real reason other than not wanting to eat pizza and then just starting eating it again one day as if I had never stopped.

When did you post your first piece?: I think it was May 2019.

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why?: Mostly fluff & humor because I’m kind of soft and I really love a feel-good fic. Any angst I write is typically resolved by the end because I live for a happy ending. And occasional smut strictly for the spice.

Do you write OCs, X Readers, Ships...etc?: OCs & xReaders.

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr?: I love/hate the format tbh but mostly because of my tumblr community. I love being able to meet and talk to new people easily thru the platform.

What inspires you to write?: Everything! Songs, movies, commercials, personal events, etc. Sometimes it’s just a word, phrase, or picture.

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most?: I’m a major sucker for friends/strangers to lovers! and I LOVE a good Mafia/Gang/Assassin!AU. On the opposite end of the spectrum, you can catch me writing dad!au stories.

What do you hope your readers take away from your work?: I just hope it makes them feel good. Laugh, smile, cry, yell, uwu, just- all the emotions.

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively?: Take a break. Read a book, dive into a k-drama, binge a few fics. Sometimes I just have to put the laptop away until I’m ready to start again.

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful?: My favorite story is probably ‘Over The Top’ with GOT7’s Bambam. It’s a dad!au about bam’s twin boys’ first birthday party. I’m quite attached to their family dynamic in the story and may even revisit twin terrors Somsak & Somchai in the future. Most successful? Probably the ‘Bubbles’ series, a Monsta X OT7 fiesta. I had a lot of feedback while posting that series and made a lot of friends. (It was also my first actual fic & it jump-started this blog!)

Who is your favorite person to write about?: Jackson Wang or Park Jinyoung from GOT7 and Han Jisung from Stray Kids.

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose?: This is kind of a tough one because, yes- as a fanfic writer I’m using a real person as a character, however, the storyline, the dialog, the emotions, the actions of the characters are all organic. I could take any one of my stories and replace only that person’s name and it would be considered entirely original. So, I guess I would say it’s not so different.

What do you think makes a good story?: Great dialog.

What is your writing process like?: Sometimes I get an idea and go straight to word vomiting and editing. Sometimes it’s planning the title, characters, tags list, & summary then not looking at it for a few weeks until I’m ready to write it.

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story?: Yes. All of my stories are AU (non-idol verse) so I would totally repurpose them.

What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand?: Love: friends/strangers/enemies to lovers, + grumpy character only soft for their love interest. Dislike: Love triangles, angsty slow burn, cheating, etc.

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you?: IT IS EVERYTHING. I love reading tags, getting aks, getting messages, it warms my heart, and really motivates me to keep going.

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)?: When I write and I really like my own story, it feels like a success.

Do you think fanfic writers get unfairly judged?: Yes, they certainly can be. I think people who don’t understand fanfiction can have a very narrow mindset and belittle fanfic writers because of that misunderstanding.

Do you think art can be a medium for change?: Yes. Even if its something as small as changing one’s mood.

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself?: Not usually. I try to only write things that make me happy and if I ever get requests I’m not into, I usually won’t write it. If I’m not enjoying myself and the story, it’s not worth the pressure I put on myself to write it.

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times?: It’s definitely possible, but I haven’t had many issues with this so far.

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr?: My mom, dad, sister, husband, and two other friends know.

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers?: I’m always here to make you laugh and smile, whenever you need it. I hope my stories can bring you joy.

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there?: Do it for yourself. If you are enjoying yourself then it’s worth it.

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr?: I love this hellsite. I’ve been here since high school and I have no regrets.

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey?: AJ: my favorite bean, Chelle: my fav writer & inspo, Megan: my hype squad gf, Leena: my sisterwife, Na: my #1 supporter, and Val: my JJP/Wonu Soulmate.

Pick a quote to end your interview with: “mo0n Mo0n JiN m0oN!” - Jeon Jeongguk

BONUS ROUND: K-POP CONFIDENTIAL

#jinyoungsir #thesunnyshow #featured author #episode 43 #got7 #bts #stray kids #monsta x #ateez #nct

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qtakesams · 3 years

Text

When Life Goes On, Go with It

Two years ago this month, I moved to Edgewater, Maryland, to complete a summer internship with the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center. SERC, as we call it, is a branch of the Smithsonian Institution that specializes in climate, coastal, terrestrial, and various other types of sciences. Their campus is an hour east of Washington, D.C. They own hundreds of acres of land, on which they house their laboratories and fields.

It was just after my sophomore year of college ended. As with many underclassmen years, mine was turbulent. I endured a drastic shift in my social circle which had, even if temporarily, left me feeling stranded on a campus I was still learning about. I’d had a rough spring semester, finding a lack of motivation to complete any assignment.

Most undergrads face that year: the one where nothing feels right, and each path feels like a dead-end. I had applied for a SERC internship on a bit of a whim. Entering college, I’d seen myself as a fiction writer and editor, planning to end up in a corporate publishing house. Sophomore had shown me I desired other things, and I applied for SERC’s science writing internship completely unsure if I’d actually like the work. What if I didn’t? What if it felt worse than the previous semester? What would I do if I couldn’t bounce back?

All of this, I decided, would be worth the risk. When I got an email from the internship’s advisor in March, offering me the position, I accepted it. The rest, as some might say, is history.

SERC is a hard place to find until you’ve visited a few times. The brown sign is easily skipped by the eyes. Coming from the west, you approach SERC on the left side of the road. Immediately, you forget that you’re technically in the suburbs, less than thirty miles from the epicenter of political heat in America. After a few turns, you arrive at the gate. When SERC is publicly open, you drive on through. When you’re an intern coming back from the bar at night, you have to swipe your ID card. You drive a few more turns, watching closely for deer, before that final right turn that drops you into the parking lot of the intern dorms and the labs.

I fell in love with SERC within days of my arrival. There were the intimidating factors of the place: fellow interns at Ivy Leagues and respected colleges, scientific labs into which the government itself funded millions, no meal plan, and the stick shift vehicle I would drive all summer. I was terrified when my mom drove away. I explored the floor of my building, admiring the kitchen, perusing the book selection. By eleven, I was in bed. I was tried from traveling, but more so, I didn’t know what to do. I’d briefly interacted with the other intern already on my floor, but I didn’t know him well enough to go say hi. There were four interns moved in below my floor, but I hadn’t seen any of them yet. I suddenly seemed wildly out of my element, though I had felt comfortable at SERC the moment I drove through the gate.

Of course, I grew happier at SERC. The happiest I’d been in years. Within weeks, I made strong friends, adjusted to my job, and began to close my GPS when driving to the store.

My work felt good. The articles I wrote and the media I created reached thousands of people, many of which gave positive comments. My words were reaching people, and the people were responding.

I was raised by a scientist, but more importantly, by well-educated, empathetic people. Loving my planet was part of the gig when I was growing up. In high school, I began to see where my privilege in this education existed. My friends at school didn’t seem to care about the things I’d be taught to care about. Water consumption, electricity, knowing the landscape on which your house is built. I knew important moments in history, and how they affected me. I had early knowledge of politics, to the point where I knew who George Bush was before his presidency ended (when I was 10). Ignorance and empathy tend to go hand-in-hand, mostly because ignorance leads to apathy. We’ve seen this cause-and-effect equation hold catastrophic, deadly consequences in 2020.

When I arrived at SERC, it didn’t slip by me that I suddenly had access to information that most people only dream about. Many of us are ignorant (I remain ignorant to 99.9% of what happens on this Earth) by circumstance, not by choice. Accessibility is one of our biggest problems of a global society attempting to function in a digital, climate change-riddled world. Sixty percent of the globe now has Internet access, but that leaves 3.08 billion people without the knowledge they need to protect themselves from the setbacks of climate change. Most of those people, as it would turn out, are terribly affected most by war, poverty, hunger, climate, social injustice, etc. These things intertwine and cause one another. Not always, but often.

My position at SERC gifted me access to science occurring in real-time. When the Pandemic would hit a year later, it would be surprising but not shocking. On a planet where politics and science are brothers, and the population is soaring too high to properly maintain, containing a spreadable virus is like trying to hold a cup of water in your bare hands. Sooner or later, it’s going to slip between the cracks and go everywhere. If it slips far enough, you’ll never find a towel strong enough to collect it all.

In March of 2020, when I moved home to isolate, I knew the rest of college was trashed. Not my degree, necessarily, but the experience of college. I would lose that experience in its normalcy, and therefore the skills which develop from that normalcy.

I did soon realize, however, that we are not always fortunate enough to do something about mass-casualties or problems. There’s not always an answer, straightforward or not. When there is one, you should grab it with both hands.

That summer of 2020, I decided I wanted to pursue a master’s degree after college. Higher education is not unknown in my family; we boast high degrees from prestigious universities. I am the opposite of a First-Generation student (one of my great-grandparents also had a master’s degree). Graduate school had already been on my mind when I started college, but I didn’t know what for. An MFA in fiction had felt the most logical to my teenage self in 2017, but by 2018, that felt out the window. What I had realized by the summer of 2020 was that, in the midst of the chaos and absurdity, was that I could in fact do something about what was going on. I can’t solve climate change, or house the homeless, or save every polar bear, or even eradicate a virus, but I can help in my own way. On some level, I can do something about the many crises. This, in itself, is “doing something”.

Science writing is a polarizing subject, of this I have been aware my entire life. Unfortunately, we’ve made science political, though politics are generally opinion (with strong empathy) and science is fact. It’s a tough, competitive field, but so is everything else. If you want to “make it” in this world, you have to willingly shed blood, tears, and probably sweat profusely. As I watched the COVID cases skyrocket simultaneously to the people I knew who cared not to stay home, I could tell something was off. People weren’t listening. If they were, it was usually to the ignorant voices on television.

I could feel my cheeks burning as I watched the Johns Hopkins map. It seemed cruel that we, as a society, could do that to ourselves. That we could allow this virus to spread and kill, but also that we had put ourselves in this position. I had already been envisioning myself as a science writer every day since my time at SERC had begun. Finally reckoning with the knowledge that not everybody is a scientist, nor cares to be one, was the icing on the cake. I couldn’t fix it all, but I could offer my help. So, I would.

When I began this blog two years ago, it was solely for abroad purposes. It was a fabulous way to let anybody who cared know what I was experiencing and how I was handling those experiences. Studying abroad, no matter how or where or how long, is difficult. Studying in general, for any length of time on any subject, is mindboggling tedious. I give kudos to my friends and family who have any advanced, foreign, or nontraditional education.

What I discovered after I began writing blog posts and sharing my thoughts is that there’s always more to the story than the words on the page. That’s why I’ve added to this blog in the year and a half since my abroad semester ended; there is always more to tell.

In a few weeks, I begin my master’s degree at Northwestern University in Chicago. My degree is in journalism, with a specialization in Science and Health reporting. I’m nervous to my core, as I am with any new adventure. I just graduated college last weekend, so my emotions are running wild. Yet, I have a feeling I’m about to finally be where I’ve wanted to be for years. I love words. I love messing with them, shaping them, using them to fit whatever project I want. I also love science. I love knowing what is happening around me, and why and how it is. Combining them already feels like a dream come true, so I’m sure the next year will feel magical.

The classes of 2020 and 2021 are probably the most resilient in history. A Pandemic, racial and social injustice, wildfires, remote learning, wifi issues. We’ve seen it all, and it’s made us stronger every day.

I think I’ve worn this blog out for this phase of life. My thoughts on what I’ve talked about here are valid and important, but they don’t exist alone. For somebody who’s pretty much been writing since she could hold a pencil, I hate journaling. I’ve tried so many times, and never succeeded, with the exception of this blog. That said, it gave me an incredibly strong, consistent manner of getting my thoughts on the page, for which I am endlessly grateful. If you’ve kept reading my thoughts and words, you should know I’m endlessly grateful for you, too.

All of this is saying that, whether you’re ready or not, life keeps going. Life can be cruel, it can be challenging, it can be beautiful. No matter what, it keeps going. As my friend Ferris once said, if you don’t stop and look around from time to time, you could miss it. So much changed so drastically in the last year. I’m still processing it. I might always be processing it. Most importantly, I think, is that I’ve learned to flow with it wherever it goes. It’s harder sometimes than other, but the result is usually worth the grind.

You might read my stuff in the Times once day, or (my personal favorite dream) National Geographic. I don’t know honestly know where I’m going, but I’m okay with that because I do know that I’m on my way. I’m still going. When life continues, you should go, too. You never quite know where the climb will lead, but you do know that the view will be great.

#study abroad #science writing #thoughts #media #graduate school #graduate student #class of 2021

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hmel78 · 4 years

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In conversation with Anthony Phillips ...

1967 – the World watched on as San Francisco experienced it’s ‘Summer Of Love’, and listened on as music reached the dizzy heights of psychedelic rock; Classical music seemed to be drowned out by the screams accompanying The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who … Meanwhile, at Charterhouse school - one of Great Britain’s finest ‘public’ educational establishments in the idyllic English county of Surrey - a handful of budding young musicians, were busily trying to prove to their masters that banning guitar practice as a punishment for missed homework, would not stop the musical revolution that had begun to happen within it’s own splendid Gothic walls! Unsurprisingly, there is a noteable list of ‘Old Carthusians’ – including the composer Ralph Vaughan Williams, amongst numerous artists, actors, poets , sportsmen, TV personalities, journalists, politicians, and Bishops! – but we doubt that they could ever have imagined that they would also nurture, and eventually include in that list, the founder members of a band called … ‘Genesis’. Perhaps you have heard of them?

Peter Gabriel, Michael Rutherford, Tony Banks, Christopher Stewart, and … Anthony Phillips. Despite his departure from the band in 1970, Ant has never strayed from his musical path. His solo discography boasts in excess of 30 albums; in addition to that he enjoys an incredibly busy, and successful career as a TV and ‘library’ composer; and has been involved with a number of musical projects including collaborations with fellow ‘Genesis’ band mates Mike Rutherford, Phil Collins, and Peter Gabriel - but it hasn’t all been plain sailing … Helen Robinson, caught up with him to find out more : HR - So where did your musical journey begin?

AP - I was pretty much self taught at school. I studied music later, but in the beginning I was self taught. I briefly had guitar lessons from a chap who was very impressive. My mum used to buy me the Beatles sheet music, and kindly send it down to me at ‘Charterhouse’ – and this chap would just look at them and read from the piano score, with guitar ‘shapes’ written in fret numbers as opposed to tablature – and he would play the chords and the melody on this beautiful classical guitar. I just wanted to be able to strum the chords to the songs and sing along really, and I think at the time he was a bit disappointed that I wasn’t prepared to go the classical route … Anyway I didn’t. Then formed a band at school – doing Rolling Stones, Beatles, Kinks, Animals, The Shadows - Hank was a big influence - and that took me up to starting to write my own stuff; A lot of it with Mike Rutherford. I met Mike when I was 13 – the other Genesis guys were quite a bit older so we didn’t get together with them for a couple of years. The school band – The Anon - was people more my age. I was the babe of Genesis!

HR - Indeed – and with that in mind, how much input did they allow you to have on the debut album – “From Genesis To Revelation”?

AP - The first album I didn’t do an enormous amount of writing – it was very much dominated by Peter Gabriel and Tony Banks. The second album – “Trespass” - was much more of a ‘group’ album. In fact, myself and Mike were responsible for the basis of 3 or 4 of the tracks on “Trespass”. “Visions of Angels” was my piano track originally. Songs like “Looking For Someone” were Peter Gabriel songs that the rest of us developed the instrumentals around. I had a reasonable amount of stuff on “Genesis To Revelation”, but Mike had very little – we came much more into play on ‘Trespass’.

HR - You’d left the band by the time their 3rd album was released. Did they take any of your ideas forward into “Nursery Cryme”? AP - Actually, I was responsible for mucking about with a few ideas that ended up on the album, way before I left - Mike had this weird tuning of F# which we played about on. That song became “The Musical Box” later – so, yes, a couple of ideas made it.

HR - Do you ever listen back to the first two albums, and hear things that you would change?

AP - I don’t often listen, no - and I haven’t listened to them enough to have any really strong thoughts. I think if you don’t listen for a while then it’s quite pleasant. If you have a period away from these things, you tend to forget what you thought was wrong, so then it’s not so bad – but I must say that when you listen repeatedly, then you start to think “oh dear”, I could have done that differently. We all felt that the business of putting strings on “Genesis To Revelation” - which necessitated reducing the backing track to mono -was a bit of a disaster. Whilst our playing wasn’t the best, the album had a rough, raw power to it which, that process of adding these high wheeling strings to, made it lose something, and anodyne, perhaps. I know that our producer was trying to give it a more commercial edge, which I understand, but I don’t think it really came off - and it was at some cost too!

HR - Would you re-record or re-mix any of it again now, in your own way?

AP - No I don’t think so. I think it is of its time really. The other thing of course is that it’s physically impossible now. That reduction process, means that things were erased, so we can’t get back to the original stages even if we wanted to. That’s all changed now, mercifully, with computers . You can get back to any stage these days – providing you remember to save it!

HR – Ah, yes! The wonders of modern technology. And … NOT saving things! [laughs]

AP - Yes – we’ve all done it!!! It’s all so easily done. We take too much for granted with technology. You can become over reliant on it, and lazy! I do fall into that trap myself sometimes actually – musically. I don’t think enough about original sounds I just tend to buy virtual instruments. T hey are wonderful, but if you think back to albums like [The Beach Boys], “Pet Sounds” and [The Beatles] “Sgt Pepper”, those sounds were created, they weren’t just there at the push of a button!

HR - I know you’re quite experimental with your solo work … Once you’d left Genesis , how easy was it to move into a more classical sound with your compositions?

AP - I found it difficult! I could play by ear, but learning to read music at the age of 18 was incredibly hard to grasp. It was a different discipline of course, of not looking at the guitar or the piano, whilst reading music. My motivation in doing it, was because I wanted the ability to orchestrate ; Not having had that set of skills in Genesis , we couldn’t really have any input into the orchestral approach because we simply didn’t really understand it. Tony Banks did more than the rest of us, although he wasn’t orchestrally trained, but he could read music. So I wanted the power to orchestrate. It wasn’t simply about being able to read music, or being able to play piano pieces – It was definitely to understand notation, so that I could write orchestral pieces. I had a ‘Road to Damascus’, if you like, after I left Genesis, and listened to all sorts of composers. “The Karelia Suite”, by Sibelius, was my epiphany. I suddenly thought “this doesn’t sound like classical music!”. I must have listened to the wrong things, or maybe my ears weren’t ready to listen as a child, so I had a lot of catching up to do. There was a huge ‘pop’ / ‘Classical’ divide as I was growing up in the 60s – it was rancorous between the establishment and the young tear-aways, and hippies. It was a wonderful voyage of discovery though, but frustrating at the same time – technically - I loved doing Bach ‘Chorales’ and things like that, but some of the exercises I had to do, I found quite dull.

HR - Having honed your skills then, did you find that it made a difference to the music that you wanted to write? Did you find yourself wanting to bridge the gap between pop and classical – through a ‘progressive’ angle?

AP - Hmmm, Bridge the gap is interesting. It didn’t make a great deal of difference to me in terms of the progressive wing of my writing – I think I would have grown into that anyway.

With Genesis - There were some moments which were quasi classical, but I don’t think they bridged the gap really, no. Tony Banks was very familiar with the classical repertoire, so you could argue that his chord sequences were classically influenced. What studying did for me, was give me the ability to do - with the more markedly classical wing of things (although you may argue that it’s a fine line to distinguish which bits are prog, and which are classical!) – was cope with them better.

On “The Geese And The Ghost” for instance, having studied orchestration, and knowing how to write the parts, I didn’t have to get an arranger in. I could think for myself and make my own judgments on which instrument to add where. Plus – arrangers inevitably, like anyone else, tend to have their own styles which then reflect on the piece, which might be good, but it might not be necessarily what you want. So it really did help me in that respect.

HR - Genesis certainly didn’t carry any of that vibe forward, into their commercial phase …

AP - No! Well, the post Gabriel group gradually became more and more commercial didn’t they. Phil Collins and Peter Gabriel were quite different animals really - Obviously Peter did some successful commercial things afterwards. To be fair to them [Genesis], it would have been very difficult to carry on that way – especially post punk, and disco eras. There was almost a unilateral, multilateral, Palace revolution, that everyone had to start doing that! It became very unfashionable to be ‘prog’ and have such complicated long and drawn out pieces of music.

My timing was peccable - I’m not sure there is such a word, but I like it anyway! - coming back into the business, because I walked straight into the teeth of punk! Whilst I had nothing against it, in the sense that if I had been 10 years younger I would have been doing the same thing –what I did object to, was being asked to go into reverse gear, and start doing simple pop stuff, because I’d out grown it.

So I think it actually, for the purposes of the market, became very difficult for groups to stay true to their former selves and continue to produce classically based music. I don’t think it was a conscious direction on behalf of a lot of groups to start to simplify their music, they just were not given much choice. It didn’t do England a great deal of credit the way that everyone cashed in on that - there was so much clichéd nonsense around and people were saying “this music hasn’t got any balls!”. In a lot of European countries and the States, different styles were able to co-exist much better, than here in the UK. It was the fault of the record companies rather than a lot of the punk musicians really - they were just happy doing their own thing, but there was a lot of unpleasantness at that time. There were a lot of people who were heroes one day, and then being knifed in the back the day after by the people who had been adulating them! Which wasn’t anything to be terribly proud about …

HR - Not at all! But, something to be proud about is this lovely re-issue of your debut solo album “The Geese And The Ghost”!

AP - Yes! Absolutely! It’s just come out again, and in surround sound too, which is the first time I have had a surround sound album, and they have done a fantastic job with it! Particularly the instrumentals – it really does make a difference to have that experience of surround sound. And they’re releasing limited editions on Vinyl too, which is fabulous because that is when the artwork really comes into it’s own. Vinyl seems to be having a bit of a revival, which is great! MP3s are OK, but the sound is pretty impoverished really one you’ve narrowed the bandwidth of the sound. It sounds like a different album really, with that treatment! HR - When you started work on “The Geese And The Ghost” originally - Did you write it from a fresh perspective or was it something that you had brought forward from Genesis?

AP - It was actually written from a period as far back as 1969 / 1970. Things that Mike [Rutherford] and I had played around with then. There were some additions and refinements made between 1973 / 1974. Recording began in 1974, although the main body of it was done in 1975 – which is actually 40 years ago, isn’t that terrible?! And then, because they were now unfashionable times, we really struggled to get it released - so it didn’t come out until early 1977, by which time some of that material was over 7 years old!

HR - When you were selecting musicians to work with, what influenced your decision to ask Phil Collins and not Peter Gabriel?

AP - Well, Mike and I wrote together, and Peter and Tony [Banks] wrote together - when we came together as a group, that modified a little, but that initial pairing pretty much stayed the same way. So, because Mike and I had all this unreleased music – which was frustrating –at the earliest opportunity ; at a time where solo albums looked like a possibility - we wanted to use this material. We had done a single with Phil in 1973 which ironically was written about the previous Genesis drummer, Jonathan Silver, who was on the first album. I had written this with Mike – a very uncharacteristic kid of loose country song called “The Silver Song” and Phil came down and sang the demo and did such a great job of it. You see, Peter was married, so whenever we had any time off - he went home to spend it with Jill ; whereas Phil was foot loose and fancy free and had tons of energy. The single never got released for various reasons, but when it came to “The Geese And The Ghost” he was the obvious choice because the three of us had worked together before. HR - I’m glad you mentioned Jonathan Silver there – with regards to him, and John Mayhew – were they just hired guns for the early Genesis albums or did they have creative input?

AP - No, they weren’t hired guns as such, but by the same token they didn’t have a huge input, but we did group compositions on all the tracks on those first 2 albums – so whilst they weren’t writing huge swaythes of chord sequences, they were putting in little bits here and there. Jon Silver was full of energy and ideas about arranging and how things were connected. HR - We never really get to know the dynamics of the early stuff, which is why I was curious. It has always seemed to me, that Phil Collins became Genesis … or is that an unfair judgment?

AP - Well he had the big commercial success and I don’t think it would have been easy to keep him unless he had the lion share of the writing credits, although I think they’ve shared the credits pretty well … I think it’s sad to see him fall so far from all of that these days, with the press in particular, but he was colossally successful, and I think the group would have been looking the gift horse in the mouth if they hadn’t run with Phil.

The media can be so cruel. I remember a duel review of “The Geese And The Ghost” being handed to me from the states. One called it a “mellow rock classic”, the other said it was “music to wash dishes to” … and sadly you seem only to remember the bad ones!

And do you know, that it was the album that very nearly never came out?!! It sat on a shelf whilst punk roared away, and I’d given up on it to be honest. It was 15 months between finishing it and it being picked up to be released. For the first 3 or 4 months I was quite hopeful; by new year 1976 I was beginning to lose hope, and by the summer I was definitely starting to think about other things, and applying to go to music college full time.

It was a pretty soul destroying time – I’d spent a lot of time and energy on it; a lot of angst , and thought, apart from hard work, had gone into it … And then right at the 11th hour, while I was going for auditions to music college for the following year - suddenly it was picked up by an American record company. It was never actually released on a formal English record company label - it was released by the Genesis management company with whom I was with at the time – ‘Hit And Run’ – so like I say it’s the album that nearly never was!

HR - If it hadn’t been picked up then, do you think you’d have given it another shot down the line?

AP - No … I don’t actually. I think I would have gone to music college, and ... Good point! What would I have done at the end of it? I think I would have carried on composing, definitely, but I’m not quite sure where I would have come out at the other end, because the progressive scene had long gone, when I finished college in 1979– [laughs] Yes - in a parallel world what would I have done? I have absolutely no idea! I would probably have ended up as a music teacher.

HR - Did you teach, at some point?

AP - Yes … yes I did funnily enough. Whilst I was studying, I taught classical guitar - which helped me a lot. I had always played acoustic guitar, but didn’t play proper finger style - my right hand was quite basic, so I studied classical guitar as well as piano when I left Genesis, and teaching then helped me to pass the Classical Guitar teachers exams (as opposed to the performers diploma). I taught at a couple of different schools. One was Pepper Harrow ; which was like a progressive borstal for kids who were very bright, but who’d fallen foul of authority - not so badly that had to be interned, as it were. A great number of them had come from some pretty horrific backgrounds, but a number of them have gone on to do great things. Some of them were brilliant musicians! I remember wondering what I was letting myself in for initially, but it’s something that I look back on with a great deal of affection. They weren’t just guitar lessons – they were much more - the music was a vital part of these guys rehabilitation.

HR - Sounds like you’d have made a fantastic teacher, had all else failed! Given that “The Geese And The Ghost” almost didn’t happen – did that fill you with confidence to carry on to do the next album straight away, or had it discouraged you a little?

AP - Oh I’ve had more than my fair share of discouragement over the years! The album that came directly afterwards was “Wise After The Event” and I was immediately told that it had to be an album of songs – the writing was on the wall for these straggly instrumental albums - and it was time to crank up the electric guitar into a heavier rock genre, or don’t bother turning up, kind of thing.

“Sides” was originally going to be called “Balls”, which was cocking-a-snook at people for saying that my music didn’t have enough balls! At the time it seemed to me to be so ludicrous to have this blanket approach across all music - so that’s why we had the cover with the table football table on it - But the powers that be, over-ruled “Balls” and we had to change it to “Sides” ; because it did have one side that was more overtly commercial than the other, which is a little more instrumental.

I was lucky at that point, because the “Private Parts and Pieces” idea just came out of the blue really. I had been recording and stockpiling quite a lot throughout the year when nothing was happening with “The Geese And The Ghost”, and I asked if it might be possible, as a foil to this more rock orientated stuff, to be able to release an album of piano pieces, guitar pieces – sort of home recordings, which made up in their atmosphere and mood, what they lacked in technical perfection - and they said yes!

The first X of “Sides” was released as “Private Parts And Pieces” - as a freebie. It wasn’t actually “Private Parts and Pieces I” because it was a one off, but that numbering thing became sort of a generic term for my albums which were more homespun and simple – you know, small scale, as opposed to the more magnum opuses.

Not that I was able to do a Magnum Opus for quite a while! There was the “Invisible Men” album, which had a certain amount of record company backing, but that was again released around the time of the ‘New Romantics’ – more bad timing! I’d just bought my first house, and was under huge financial pressure with about 18 lodgers to pay the mortgage! So there was big pressure on to have hit singles and get paid, and so I didn’t do another full scale album for about another 6 years. I was lucky to still have this ‘outlet’, with the small scale releases, to continue to get some music out there during the 80s - when the climate was very much against the more classical stuff - at least I did continue to get piano, guitar, synth - slightly more imaginative stuff - out there, but all very much on a small scale.

Thinking about it, it was actually a full 7 years gap before I had the opportunity to do another large scale album at the end of the 80s. It was a frustrating time that too, I can tell you. I had rather a chequered career for a while. I was doing a lot of songwriting, and aiming it at other artists. We would keep getting close, but then, the management would lose the artist, or the album was canned. They weren’t collaborations or anything, but we had some placements in the works for Sheena Easton, Roger Daltry and people like that, but they never worked out. We had a song covered by Bucks Fizz – who promptly had a coach crash! So I had a run of bad luck with that really. It was an interesting time – I was trying allsorts of different things whilst my own music wasn’t making much money, and whilst trying to pay for the new house. It didn’t quite come to being a cat burglar, or an assassin, but I did give it some serious thought!

HR - Your celebrity friends could have hired you to assassinate the music press …

AP - [laughs] Yes …

HR - Is there anyone in particular, that you would like to collaborate with? AP - I thought you were going to say Assassinate! I don’t know these days … about collaborations … Mike and I were always a good team but we have gone in different directions now. I’m not sure that he’s interested in doing complicated instrumental stuff any longer. He did ask me if I wanted to be involved with the Mike and Mechanics albums, but I knew that I couldn’t see the whole project through with the touring and everything, which is what he needed. And it’s not necessarily my bag if I’m honest, although I very much respect what he’s achieved. I think maybe we’ve gone too far down different roads now to make anything work. Steve Hackett and I have talked about writing together a few times, but it’s always risky when someone is your friend. Working relationships do change things, and I’m not sure I’d want to risk my friendship with Steve!

With my TV library music, I do collaborate with quite a lot of people then anyway, so I’m not one of these musicians who doesn’t want to work with anybody else.

HR - When are you at your happiest then? When you’re working on solo stuff and you’re completely in control of it (and I’m not insinuating that you’re a control freak!) …

AP - Ha, NO! Actually, a great friend of mine calls my studio the spaceship! And I’m completely happy in there when I’m just mucking about with all the wonderful synth sounds, creating tapestries of colour with sound – Love it!

And also playing guitar, which increasingly seems to happen late at night in front of the TV. Just picking up a guitar – 12 String or Classical – when these ideas enter my head at absurd times of the day. On the recordings you can invariably hear Alan Hansen and Match Of The Day commentary in the background! And I do actually present demos to my library producer, with TV programmes going on in the background.

HR - What sort of boundaries are in place with your Library writing? Can you remain true to your ‘album’ style, or are you tied to a brief?

AP - I have a lot more freedom these days to create some varied pieces – guitar, synth – it’s very varied, and that’s what I love about it, but it’s hugely competitive, and the recession spawned a lot of ‘under-cutting’ - the market is flooded, and the rates of pay have dropped! I feel very fortunate to have done well at a time when it was less competitive, and to have continued to do it. It’s incumbent on me to keep writing as much as possible - I can’t afford to take my foot off the peddle. So when things come up, I don’t ever really have a blank page because of the stockpile of guitar, piano , synth, and orchestral library pieces already down – I have all of this material ready to go, rather than start from scratch. Some of them are slightly rough and would need to be redone, but the mood is there, and if someone came to me tomorrow asking for such and such, I would hope that I have something that would suit. Unless they asked for a bagpipe concerto. I haven’t got one of those. It’s unlikely to happen, but you never know …

HR - So when we end this conversation, you’re going to go and write one …

AP - [laughs]They’re not a pretty sound when people turn them off you know! What they don’t tell you is that when they’re warming up and cooling down they sound like a sick cow! It is a racket! We had a funny incident on the road with Genesis actually. Peter Gabriel was a little bit accident prone, and slightly absent minded on stage, and used to play the accordion in Stagnation, a bit – in quite an unconventional way, not like jolly French stuff with the onions and the beret - but he would put it down during a very quiet section and if he didn’t put it down properly, it would make this kind of squealing noise going off into the distance, and suddenly we would sound like a John Cage outfit! People would look up completely startled! Another thing he would do – he was a good flute player but struggled with an A flat in “The Knife” which was our closing song – and Tony Banks had to remind him before we went on, that you had to tweek the flute to tune it by a semi-tone. Occasionally Tony would forget to tell him, and Peter wouldn’t remember; The lights would dim, and we’d be ready for this lovely moody bit, and BANG! He would come in a semi tone out! That was pretty tense I can tell you! I love all of those instruments …

HR - What’s your favorite instrument?

AP - Ooooh Tricky. I think pushed to answer that, I’d have to say 12 string guitar 1st, followed very closely by piano, Classical guitar 3rd, and underwater sousaphone 4th …

HR - And, may I say you play all 4 brilliantly!

AP - Aww thanks …

HR - I’ll look forward to your underwater sousaphone symphony at some point, amidst the forthcoming re-releases! Were you looking at reworking your back catalog, or was it something that you were approached to do?

AP - They approached me! [Cherry Red / Esoteric Records]. Not to put too finer point on it but I make the majority of my living from my TV music, and the album work has always been a very nice foil to that, but it’s not been my bread and butter, as it were. I’m probably one of the only artists who has ever said to a record company – “are you really sure you want to do this?” And they did, so I was a bit surprised really! I gathered they were in the business of picking up back catalogs– and I hate the world ‘cult’ – but of people who have ‘cult’ followings, and it felt like entirely the right thing to do. It feels a safe place to be, and with a decent company who have their act together; after having had so many years of uncertainty with this stuff.

HR - How much influence did you have over the way that the 2014 anthology “Harvest Of The Heart”, was put together?

AP - Not a lot actually, but entirely by choice. I wrote a little bit for the blurb on the boxset, but as far as choosing what songs to include – I couldn’t make the decision. It was too difficult – I mean, I dither anyway, at the best of times! And I’m not in any way trying to imply with arrogance that this is all so wonderful, but it was just too hard for me to decide. I’m not a good judge of what other people would have wanted, and to be frank I don’t like listening to a lot of it anyway, once I have done it, otherwise I start to pick it all apart and convince myself that I could have done better … So I was very happy to leave it up to Jonathan Dann, who runs my website ; and Mark Powell (Boss of Cherry Red), who went through all of it. He deserves a medal for that!

HR - I know it’s unfair to ask an artist what their favourite piece of their own music is, but – do you have one?

AP - The albums I’m most proud of , would be “The Geese And The Ghost”, and an album called “Slow Dance” ; which was the first album that I did when I came back after that 7 year hiatus in the wilderness, as it were …

HR - Was that [Slow Dance] released under your own steam outside of record label jurisdiction?

AP - It was actually! I did that off my own bat, and once again ended up having a bad time of it! We’d done an album called “Tarka”, and there was a bit of an upturn in the 80s with the ‘new age’ boom. I’d been doing what was effectively ‘new age’ for a while, but suddenly people realised that, after about 5 years! So I borrowed some money from my management company to crank up my gear, in order to enable me to do a larger scale record. This was in lieu of a small advance from the record company, who then went bust! So the rights to my songs were impounded, under US laws, and my catalogs were frozen (as assets) in the states for a number of years and I couldn’t get them back - so it was a pretty chaotic period in terms of America, but also I had to finish what I had started here! So I pressed on with this album, very much in debt, because I’d bought the gear, but then hadn’t got the advance to pay it off! Looking back I’m not sure how I kept going really because the record was very complicated … But I did have an ulterior motive which was to try and secure a publishing deal with the then’ Virgin Publishing’ under Richard Branson. I don’t to this day think he realises what he let go of when he sold it on to EMI – it was such a wonderful company to be a part of. Ultimately, I got a deal, which got me out of the mire; I finished what became “Slow Dance” and then Virgin came in and released ALL of my albums onto CD for the first time, so I was very fortunate then. I owed a lot to that record in the end. But it was a real blood, sweat, and tears album, and it wasn’t just mentally painful to listen to afterwards – it was literally physically painful too ; I would writhe around and cringe listening to it because I spent too long on it, and it sounded awful to me. It tried to do too much. It’s quite filmic, and unabashedly lyrical - It’s very orchestral at times and some of it is artificial; the sounds at that stage weren’t particularly brilliant and in hindsight it would have benefitted from more real orchestra. I think I could listen to it now … There is a two year rule – don’t listen for something you did for two years, and you’ll forget what was wrong with it!

HR - Would you re-record it, now?

AP - Well – it’s one of the things that will come up for discussion, funnily enough, because we are planning to release some more in surround sound, but it has to be practical to do because it’s a very expensive process, and Cherry Red are very fair, but they know we possibly won’t sell a million copies. I would like to do “Slow Dance” yes. I think any of the orchestral albums would really benefit from being in Surround Sound. The bigger it is, the more there is going on, and the more you can throw around the room. The re-release schedule is a bit torturous actually. Up next is “Private Parts and Pieces” with a bonus CD of material from the time, and … I don’t want to give too much else away really, but we will be doing more … maybe “Tarka”, eventually.

HR - Would you like to get any of your compositions to a point where an orchestra could perform it live? AP - Oh You bet! I’d love it!! There was a performance of “Tarka” in Australia, but it was with a scratch orchestra, so a rather mixed affair. It’s quite hard [Tarka] although it’s not an incredibly difficult score, but it needs some very good players to do it justice. These things are just so incredibly expensive to put together though, aren’t they?

HR - Yes, they are! Do you ever perform?

AP - I don’t … no. My experience with Genesis made me very tentative about performing, but to be honest - the thing that I enjoy most is composing. I’m a terrible practicer! The process of playing something over and over again, just bores me to tears!

HR - How about conducting then? AP - Gosh no, I’m not a good enough conductor – I did study it for a while, briefly, but I’d be much better on a bus! I know the moves, and the beats, but it’s that business of making the left hand totally independent of what’s going on with the right hand – that’s really difficult. It’s an extraordinary art! And when I go to see an orchestra, the conductor always seems to be so far ahead, that I can’t ever put it together!! When I was first studying I used to get the orchestra seats behind the Albert Hall proms, which are the ones behind the Orchestra where you’re looking directly at the conductor – and some of the conductors seemed to be so far ahead of the orchestra, that we used to joke that the conductor would be in the dressing room toweling down, whilst the orchestra were still finishing off! I don’t understand it!! It’s one thing that I do regret in life actually – I would have loved to have been in the middle of a big phat orchestra when something like the “Rites Of Spring” [Stravinsky] or “The Planets” [Holst] is being played. That must be amazing! Even to just play the triangle or something! I’d love to do that …

HR - There’s always time! What about your life outside of music? Do you ever divert from your musical routes?

AP - [laughs] It would seem not to the untrained eye eh? I have a lot of friends and probably spend too much time socialising, and eating out, so I burn the candle at both ends too often. I spend a lot of time with my nieces and nephews, and God-children – I don’t have kids of my own but keeping up with all of them makes life pretty full! It is a difficult balance to keep because I really can’t afford to fall behind with work stuff and that involves an endless amount of mind boggling admin with the album career, and for composing for the library - I have to keep up with all the new technology in the studio, and the new sounds – endless changes! I love sports ; all sorts of sports … I’m a big film man - love films. Probably my favourite music is in film scores these days. My big musical heroes are film composers – amongst many, my favourites are Ennio Morricone : particularly ”Cinema Paradiso” and the wonderful ”Gabriel’s Oboe” from ’The Mission; John Williams, ”Schindlers List”; George Fenton , ”Shadowlands”; Thomas Newman , ”Shawshank Redemption”; Hans Zimmer, James Newton Howard, Alan Silvestri and many others … so, yes! How do I actually find time to work? That is the question ... Not too long after we’d had this chat, Ant got the opportunity to work on a re-release of “Slow Dance” ; here’s the verdict ... HR : So the ultimate question is, forced to listen to it again, have you grown fonder of Slow Dance during the re-mastering, for this re-release?AP : My own view in general, which I appreciate may be very different to that of other musicians, is that when you come back to an album not having heard it for ages, it has novelty value and you think ‘that’s not bad at all’….! That’s why i prescribe the ‘two year rule’. Don’t listen to a piece, album, whatever, for a while and you will forget what it was that you are aspiring to that made you feel dissatisfied with its original outcome !Alas, repeated listens gradually bring back the issues that worried you at the time ! And the more time spent on an album (in my case Slow Dance, Geese were particular long campaigns) the worse it is. QBG and I flew through PP3 in the lovely summer of 1981 and it all remained fresh and therefore untarnished in one’s memory. This naturally makes us completely unobjective when it comes to judging our work ! Slow Dance was such a painstaking haul that when I finished it I found it excruciating to listen to.You have a mystical image of how a piece should sound and capturing this remains tantalisingly elusive ! Perhaps this very frustration is what drives you on to try and do better …?So yes, at first pleasantly surprised, with a few reservation, then gradually I began to feel ‘could have done that better - in many instances !But there are sections that I am still quite proud of and I know it is a piece that has been a moving experience for number of people……. HR : When last we spoke, You were enjoying the opportunity to take your recordings into the surround sound arena - has this one surpassed your expectations?AP : The Surround was a tough one : the toughest of all the re-releases thus far….Perhaps not harmonically but certainly in terms of the arrangement, the album was in parts very intricate and both the balance and flow hung by a thread. Any slight change and the wheels would come off. And they did ! It presented an almost insurmountable challenge to Simon Heyworth and Andy Miles, as there were effects on outboard gear (now either absent or defunct !) that weren’t recorded to tape and therefore had to be somehow ‘reconstructed’. On the other hand instrumental albums such as this and particularly 1984 ( a feast for the guys with all the weird, tricky sounds lending themselves well to sonic spatial manipulation !) do benefit from the size and ambience that 5.1 affords. So my considered view is that the more ambient, floaty parts benefit greatly whilst other sections slightly less so….But what does the musician / composer’s view count…..? It is only the audience’s opinions that ultimately counts ! I am happy that we try to give anyone repurchasing these albums enough extra material to make it feel worth it !

#genesis #modern classical #anthony phillips #ant #cherryred #cherryredrecords #esoteric #prog rock #prog #classical #composer

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ourneverendingpossibilities · 5 years

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Okay Tia, here it is; now I don’t remember the exact wording that I had, but here we go!! May I please get a continuation of our lovely, mini Kasamatsu-saga (where she’s Kise twin-sister...I love this thing so much XD)? Kasamatsu gets accepted to a college in America, and while reader is happy for him, she is also upset that he would be far away. And at the senior retirement basketball ceremony at Kaijo, (so the end of both her and Kise’s second year) she gets an (1/2)

(2/2) *ahem* surprise of a lifetime (you know what that is ;) ). Cute, fluffy and funny-and of course Moriyama and Kobori must make an appearance somehow as well pretty please!? ________________________

OMG. So this has been sitting in my drafts since I had my box opened last.. and I meant to work on it sooner.. But due to life, I wasn’t able to get around to it… But now.. since I’ve slowly been working on things, I’ve found myself having motivation to write C: . Anyway, I hope this is to your liking Jupie!! (Also, i changed it so it’s Reader & Kise’s graduation!)_________________________

~Two years ago…~

“You’re…. going to America….?”

He swallows the lump in his throat, fingers trembling at the tone of your voice.. Graduation has come and gone, now it’s time for everyone to settle down and prepare for university… Kasamatsu was no exception…

Except, he has to leave sooner than the rest.

Part of him wishes he had the courage to discuss this with you sooner.. But Kasamatsu realized no amount of time would change how much this was going to hurt… Whether he told you sooner or not, it wouldn’t change the end result… with him leaving…

He meets your trembling lips, heart sinking in his chest at the tears rolling down your cheeks.. He can tell how hard you’re trying to keep it together… But it’s failing fast, and he can see the emotions spiraling out of control… His heart is breaking just as fast, if not faster, at the thought of saying bye…

He takes two steps, and immediately yanks you into his arms, pressing his mouth to yours in a passionate dance. He can feel your hands tremble, as if debating whether to push him away or to keep him close.. His hands are gentle on your cheeks, but his mouth speaks volumes, and soon he feels you responding back, with just as much passion and desperation as himself..

It takes him until he can’t breathe to pull away, pinning you beneath his body and the bed, which he somehow lead you two to land on.. It’s then he presses his forehead against yours, breathing in your scent as he collects his thoughts, trying hard to keep his attention on you…

“…I… I got accepted to a University in New York..” he begins, opening his eyes to meet your glistening hues.. “… I want to study Architecture, and their program is the best in the country…”

He lets those words echo between your breaths, feeling his own eyes begin to brim with unshed tears.

“I.. It’s killing me…. ____-chan….” he whispers, cupping your cheek with his fingers, while gripping the blanket with the other… “T…The thought of being away from you for so long…” he chokes, biting back the sob clawing its way to his throat…

Your eyes dim, as if in understanding, and you cup his cheek, keeping his gaze on you.. You didn’t want him looking anywhere else but here…

“Yukio….” you whisper, tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, “I want you to go…”

His eyes widen, a tear slipping out and landing on your reddened cheek… “…B…But ____-chan…”

You shake your head, giving him a sincere smile… “I…I know how hard you studied to get in… And it’s your dream, Yukio….” you bite your lip, letting out a soft sigh, “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I stopped you from achieving it?”

There’s a brief silence, their eyes speaking volumes as the words sank in..

“I’ll miss you… a lot.” you iterate, but full of conviction. “But I never want to be the reason you’re unhappy… And… me keeping you here because I’ll miss you is selfish.”

He bites back a whine, pressing his mouth back onto yours once more, this time with a renewed determination.. He’ll spend all night proving how much he loves you, even if it means you can’t walk for the next week.

________________________________

~Present~

_______________________________

The time has come… Graduation has landed upon you. The past two years without seeing Kasamatsu had been rough, but you persevered.. With the help of your senpais and twin brother… When the third years left, you decided to transfer to Kaijou, not enjoying the time spent traveling to Seirin… The basketball team was sad at your departure, but they understood well, and they still hung out with you, despite being a rival school.

Moriyama and Kobori came around often, at least every other weekend… They may have gone to different universities, but they made time to see and coach you and Kise… Of which you were grateful..

And now… Here you stood… Behind your brother, waiting for your name to be called to receive your diploma… There was a small part of you that was sad your boyfriend couldn’t make it back in time.. Due to time-zone differences.. But he was arriving later that night, and you couldn’t wait…

“Kise _____!”

At hearing your name, you followed behind your brother, smiling wide at the cheers in the crowd… You had gained a fan club, not just because of your brother, but because of your own skills for the volleyball team… Bringing them the championship cup that was displayed proudly in your living room..

“WAY TO GO _____-CHAN!!!”

Upon hearing Moriyama’s voice, you turned your head, golden hues glittering in happiness. Your eyes scanned the group, holding up a banner saying congratulations for both you and Kise… Kobori… Nakamura.. Hayakawa… and Kasamatsu…

Wait….

As you left the stage, your eyes widen upon seeing your boyfriend standing there, in all his handsome glory, smirking proudly at you.. His raven locks a tad longer, but still as graceful as when he left.. If anything, he seemed to have gained more muscle.. and his height was slightly taller too.. Before you could embarrass yourself further, you turned your gaze away, focusing on trying not to fall flat on your face…

Oh you were going to kill Moriyama for lying…

__________

As soon as you were allowed to join your family, you immediately ran towards the smaller group waiting for you and your brother.. After bidding farewell to your parents, you were immediately picked up by Moriyama, ignoring the glare and kicks from his previous captain.

“Oh _____-chan!! We’re so proud of you!!!” he cooed, rubbing his cheek against yours… The attention made you fluster, and you began to fidget, almost being dropped when the taller male fell to his knees.

“OI! Quit smothering her Moriyama!!” Kasamatsu seethed, fingers twitching in anger.

“Well? What are you waiting for, Kasamatsu?” Kobori asked, raising an eyebrow.. “Go say hi to her!”

A blush dusted his cheeks, casting a half-heated glare at his old vice captain, before feeling his breath rush out of him. He looks down, feeling your body quiver and shake as you crush him to your chest, shaking your head in denial…

“….Y…You lied to me!!! Y… You told me you’d be here later tonight!”

His eyes soften, and he immediately returns the hug, squeezing you firmly as he rests his face in your hair.

“I…I’m sorry _____-chan… I got my times mixed up…”

You pull your head back to meet his blue hues, golden hues glistening with tears, “Y…You… You’re mean… Yukio-senpai…”

The way you say ‘senpai’ bristles him, and before he can stop himself, he pulls you away from the group, blue hues darkening at your protests.. He ignores the jabs and jokes from his old team, the whine from the male blonde, and pulls you to the men’s change room, pressing you into the wall.

“Want to repeat yourself…. _____-chan?”

Your cheeks flush, but you can hear the underlying tone, the challenge in his voice.. You meet his gaze with your own, grabbing his jacket between your fingers as you mutter…

“I…I said you’re mean…. Y…Yukio-senpai…”

He lets out a click of his tongue, steel-hues dark as he hardens his resolve.. His hand cups your cheek, holding you in a staring match before a small growl leaves his throat. The sound vibrates through your body, and as you prepare to move, he’s already silencing you with his mouth, meshing your bodies together, until neither of you can tell who’s body is which.

His fingers rest in your golden locks, grasping them as he slants his mouth over yours, deepening the kiss until neither of you can breathe.. His heart is racing in his chest, but he’s determined to touch you, to memorize the lips he’s been missing over the past two years… He just wants to lock you up and never let you leave…

It’s only when you whisper his name against his lips, does he realize you feel the same… And when he feels the tears on his lips, he withdraws for a moment, staring down at you with those gorgeous eyes you fell in love with.. And then, you jump into his arms, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and cry, trembling with emotions as you bury your face in his neck..

“Y….Yukio….” you whisper, gasping for breath, “Y…Yukio…!”

He buries his face in your neck, breathing in your scent as he crushes you to his chest… God he doesn’t want to let you go..

“I’m here…” he whispers with trembling lips, “I’m here, _____-chan…”

He’s not sure how long the two of you are locked in this embrace for, but one thing’s for certain…

He’s back home.

#kaijos-orca #knb imagines #knb scenarios #kasamatsu yukio #fluff #slight angst #romance #comfort #kaijou

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samwise-writes · 5 years

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19. “How are you feeling today?”

This has been sitting in my inbox for months, so sorry @carinavet !!!

So, I’ve been VERY busy with five classes and with applying to grad schools, but after handing in essay number three of five today, I decided to take some time for myself and take a peek at good old Tumblr. I see that there has been a few new follows on this account, which was a really nice surprise for me! It’s been a rough couple of weeks, so hi! You’re awesome and welcome!

@joufancyhuh I saw in the tags that you wanted to see more of these two idiots when you reblogged another one of my fics (Appreciation) back in September I’m so behind UGH, and that actually motivated me to write this one, so I wanted to say thanks!

It’s been a while, so I hope it’s not a total disappointment!

I’m also very sleep-deprived, so I’m going to read this over again in the morning because I probably missed some mistakes when editing

This is set before “Appreciation”

Names

The soft light of the early morning sun crept its way intothe quiet chamber. It found its way across Reah’s face, gently coaxing her fromthe heavy embrace of sleep. It took some moments before Reah was roused enoughto convince her eyes to open. When she finally managed the first feat of theday, she quickly realized she was about to have a few more to face.

She was very disoriented.

Reah found herself staring at an unfamiliar wall. Her eyesswept over every part of the strang room they could reach without her movingher head. The room was fairly bare, with only the small vellum and parchment-covereddesk that resided a few feet away from the foot of the bed. The desk sat beneaththe window that allowed the sun’s first light to spill gently into the room.

Still unable to establish where exactly she was, Reahlet out a soft huff of frustration without thinking.

Seconds later, a hand snaked its way around her waist. Reahstiffened at the unexpected contact.

“And how are you feeling today, lass?”

Reah sucked in a breath as a pair of lips brushed againsther shoulder, before pressing a firm kiss to the base of her neck. She turned herhead, and her gaze was met by a pair of strikingly blue eyes.

Suddenly everything fell into place.

“Oh, no,” she breathed out, “I need to go.”

A look of confusion flashed across the tattooed sun-kissedface that was staring back at her.

Reah made to get up, but his grip tightened around herwaist.

“Now you just wait a minute…”

She struggled to get free, but he wasn’t budging. For asplit second, she considered sinking her teeth into his forearm but thoughtbetter of it.

“Why are you in such a rush to be rid a’ me?” He growled inher ear. She chose to ignore the shiver his voice sent racing down her spine. “You’vehardly even said good morning.”

Reah choked back a laugh that threatened at his wry tone.No, he would not get the better of her, with his wit, and his ridiculousaccent. Not again, at least.

She turned her head to meet his gaze once again, quirking abrow, “Good morning, Knight-Captain.”

Rylen threw his head back and groaned dramatically. “Now don’tyou start with that nonsense, you know my name,” he smirked and looked at herthrough half-lidded eyes, “I know because you couldna stop sayin’ it lastnight.”

Reah felt the colour rise in her cheeks but managed to reign inany other reaction to his words. She narrowed her eyes and finally managed toremove his arm from her mid-section.

“Good morning, Knight-Captain,” she cut out sternly, beforeslipping out of bed and gathering up her discarded clothing that was scatteredabout the room.

Rylen watched Reah silently, trying to decipher her hurry toleave. She was the one who had approached him last night in the Rest, so whathad changed? He swiped his trousers from the floor beside the bed and pulledthem on. He absent-mindedly fastened them, as he crossed his quarters to blockthe door.

Reah turned to face him, now fully dressed. She sighed onceshe realized he was blocking her exit. Rylen crossed his arms across his barechest. Reah mirrored the stance but refused to meet his eye.

“I am sorry for the jest, perhaps that wasna kind – but whyare you in such a rush to leave?”

Reah shifted her weight, preserving her silence.

“Reah.”

The emotion in his voice forced her to finally meet hisgaze. She felt guilty, finding the concern and confusion there.

“I just…” She started, but trailed off, unsure of what tosay. They had been dancing around each other for months, but she had neverintended for it to go this far. She would not allow herself to have feelingsfor this man – she couldn’t.

She straightened herself, “I should not have allowed this tohappen,” she unfolded one arm, and gestured to the space between them. “Lastnight was a mistake and will not be repeated. I assure you of that.”

She met his gaze steadily, only faltering once she saw the slow lopsided grin that began to spread across his features.

Rylen took a few measured steps toward Reah, “very well, myLady, but I will have you know, I do not give up so easily, on the things thatI desire.” He stopped mere inches away from her; Reah had to tilt her head backto hold eye contact, but she stood her ground.

“Well I am sorry to disappoint you, Knight-Captain, butthere is nothing for you to desire, here.”

Rylen’s smile grew wider, causing his eyes to crinkle. Reahswallowed hard as her heart stuttered, and she attempted to school her faceinto a neutral expression. Rylen leaned ever so slightly forward, “Oh, but Ithink we both know that there is, love.” He leaned down and brushed his lipsagainst hers, and then was suddenly gone. He stepped around her.

“But, very well, my Lady. If our parting is what youdesire, so be it.” He moved over to his desk, picked up a piece of vellum andbegan to read the missive. The picture of nonchalance.

It took Reah a moment for her mind to catch up to thepresent. She blinked, shook her head and threw one last look at the infuriatingKnight-Captain before unlatching the door and making her now, half-heartedescape.

Rylen looked up again only once the door had swung shut. He stood smiling at the spot that Reah had vacated just moments before.He threw down the blank piece of vellum he had snatched up from his desk toappear occupied and spoke softly to the empty room.

“That’s alright Reah. I’m here when you’re ready.”

#Knight-Captain Rylen #knight captain rylen #knight captain rylen x oc #Reah #non-inquisitor oc #Reah x Rylen #dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #dragon age oc #my writing #prompt #Dragon Age: Inquisition #dai fanfic #DAI

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macbookpro-hard-drive · 5 years

Text

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.3

did you know that tumblr no longer has those lil.. lines that i liked to separate my notes from my fic with? i didnt. until now. unbelievable.

SO NOW I HAVE TO SUPPLY MY OWN and hopefully this is fine

anyway. ive been... dead for a while. summer destroyed all motivation to do Anything, but ive been forcing myself to write on and off and this part feels... shorter than it should be, but

anyway! i am alive! i have plans! i have things to write! some of them are never going to be on this blog bc theyre original works, but im always open to talk abt them skdfhdsfh

warnings: uhhhhhhh vague manipulation, and i think thats it? just general. squip. yea.

The last time you had seen Michael Mell as a friend had been the beginning of sophomore year. He and Jeremy sat on either side of you in his basement, clutching controllers and halfheartedly playing video games. Soda went untouched and unopened, snacks left alone, and too many times had Jeremy lost on games he knew like the back of his hand. The air had been stiff and uncomfortable, and the feeling had seeped into your nerves and bones to make your stomach turn at the thought of staying longer. Jeremy wasn’t quite there, and Michael was trying too hard to be extra present to make up for it. He became doting on the two of you - quick to refill a snack bowl that had barely been touched with Jeremy following him out of the basement. That was when you found your phone and called your parents, asking if they could come pick you up - bullshitting some excuse about how you felt sick. When Michael came down, he saw you packing up your things with a half-assed apology and a shitty acting job before you tore up the stairs and nearly rammed into Jeremy in the process. Your chest had tightened as you pushed past him with a quick apology and went to wait on the front steps outside for your mom to come get you.

That had been the beginning of the end. After that day, Jeremy had slowly stopped talking to you almost completely. Michael had tried to patch things up, to keep things going, and then he just stopped abruptly. To make things worse, you had broken down at school a few weeks after everything went silent, because you’d been alone. You wiped at your face roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie, and left the bathroom. Barely seconds after you had turned the corner to head to class, you ran straight into him - headphones on and head down - only for his gaze to find yours the moment you stumbled back. He opened his mouth to speak, and you stumbled through a rough, shitty apology before you pushed past him and onward to your class. And then you avoided him purposefully, not wanting to address that little moment of weakness you had.

And now you were sitting in front of him, eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice. Your back pressed into cold metal, the lockers clanging behind you as you pulled away and tried to say something, anything to explain yourself. But Michael just stared at you, uncertain about what to say to you. Your legs were like stone, almost as if something was keeping you from darting away, from finding a safer place to land and cry and get over the tears forced from your body.

“[y/n]?” Michael finally said, still staring at you. The lights overhead gleamed off his glasses and headphones as he pulled them down and around his neck, music loud enough for you to hear. He gave you a quick once-over, his attention now fully on you. “You okay?”

You went to nod only for another sob to overtake you instead. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you admitted after a moment, voice shaking and broken. And it was sort-of true.

“Are you sure?” He said, “hey, I, uh, I know I sorta stopped talking to you and that was kinda shitty but... I’m still here if you need someone to talk to, alright?” After a moment, he tacked on another thought, “do you need a ride home?”

Immediately, you didn’t want to say yes. It didn’t feel right to. But you’re already nodding before you can debate anything further. “Yeah,” you said slowly at first, reaching up and wiping at your eyes. Realization hit you quick. Your bag. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh, kinda left my bag in the auditorium.” You hesitated to step away - you didn’t really want to go back and make an excuse to leave, to let anyone see you with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Michael... can you-”

“On it,” he gave you a small, two-finger salute, “I’ll be back in a sec!”

As Michael took off down the hallway, you felt a pit develop in your stomach while he disappeared around the corner. Nothing felt right. You looked around for a moment, acutely aware of how silent everything had gone. When your SQUIP materialized in front of you, you avoided its gaze as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself for a moment. The world felt a little colder, a little dimmer, and everything was off. The sound of Michael’s approaching footsteps minutes later played the steady beat for your incoming guilt-induced breakdown, and yet the boy smiled at you - as if nothing was wrong. Maybe that was because it looked like nothing was wrong. The strap of your bag was tossed over his shoulder, bouncing against his own backpack, and yet he looked at you like you were still friends.

“Thanks,” you finally said as you reached for your bag.

Michael stepped back, “I’ve got it,” he said with a smile, “don’t worry.”

You let your arm fall back to your side, only to then shove your hands into your pockets. “Thanks,” you said, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

The walk to Michael’s car was mostly quiet, with concerned glances thrown your way every now and then - that, when you caught then, were met with insecure smiles at the situation he’d been pulled into. Which.... frankly, threw you off a bit. Michael had always been the one who was better with all this feelings shit - you and Jeremy had the unhealthy habit of bottling everything up. And now Michael walked in step with you, still warm as ever - and still wearing that damn red hoodie you swore he showered in, but it still made you smile because of course Michael still took good care of it. When you hesitated for half a step upon seeing his P.T. Cruiser, he looked back at you before you shot him an uneasy smile and continued towards the passenger side. One of his moms must have given it to him - whether for his birthday or as a gift for passing his driver’s test, you weren’t sure. But the seats were still well-worn, a Pac-Man sticker stuck on the head-rest of the driver’s seat that Michael had stuck there when bored out of his mind. It was worn with age, like you’d expect it to be, but you suppressed a small smile at the fact it was still there.

If the walk to Michael’s car had been quiet (with the occasional snippit of Michael saying something about how he still feels bad about what happened between the three of you, or about how he’s kinda sorry about the walk to the back of the parking lot) then the ride to your house was dead silent. Music flooded through the car speakers, Michael’s phone resting in your lap due to him pushing it in your direction and telling you to play whatever you want, and his attention was fully on the road - the sound of his phone’s GPS spitting out directions every so often to guide him. You watched out the window, a small sense of dread resting in your stomach the entire way, and for some reason... you felt sick.

When the car started to roll to a stop, Michael reached up and turned the music down. “Hey, uh, you still have my number, right?”

You blinked at him for a moment, before pulling out your phone. “I, uh, think so?” You opened your contacts, flipping through them, “I don’t think I deleted it or anything-”

“Good,” he smiled at you, “if you ever wanna hang out, I’m, uh, pretty free since Jeremy’s busy with this whole.. play... thing.” He paused for a moment, only to follow it up quickly with “I mean if you aren’t doing anything, since - I dunno, you aren’t apart of the cast so-”

“Okay,” you cut him off, “yeah, sure - I’m only painting the set for it, so... I’ll probably try to do that during lunch.”

“I, uh,” he began, nodding towards your jacket, “I like your pin. Have you ever played the old shit?” When you shook your head, he was filled with excitement. “Dude. You have to come over then. I’ve got the classic Zelda stuff if you wanna play.”

Running a hand through your hair, you just sort-of nodded in response as you opened the car door, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Michael.”

You closed the car door, taking a few steps back as he pulled off and drove away, before you turned and head up to your house - pausing to notice your parent’s cars were missing. Right. Letting your bag fall down to your elbow, you began to fish through it to find your keys tucked away in the bottom of your bag, and you nearly sent the contents of your bag spilling when you went to pull it back to your shoulder. But with lightning reflexes that weren’t your own, you managed to snap into action and pull it shut before anything could spill - and when you looked up, your SQUIP was standing before you.

Huh. “... Thank you?” You zipped your bag back up, letting yourself into your house.

“You should stick to hanging out with Michael,” your SQUIP said, watching you head into your bedroom

Dropping your backpack onto your bed, you shrugged at the idea as you began to search for your homework. “I mean, sure, he’s still a cool guy-”

“Michael is close to Jeremy,” it said, as if the fact wasn’t obvious, “therefore, if you get closer to Michael, you’ll get closer to Jeremy.”

You stopped. “Isn’t that using Michael?”

“You were friends with him before. It’s rekindling your friendship that just so happens to mean you’ll rekindle something with Jeremy.” It said, “you aren’t manipulating him.”

You shook your head, setting one binder down and searching for another. “I don’t really like this,” you said, “I don’t want do hurt Michael or anything-”

“Why would you be hurting him by being friends with him?”

Thinking it over, you finally nod a little. “... I guess you’re right,” you looked down at the textbook in your hands. “It just feels wrong-”

“Don’t feel, [y/n],” it stepped beside you, turning your head to meet it’s steely gaze. “Just listen. I’m here to help you.”

Reluctantly, you nod. “... Right.”

So you did. The next day, Rich fell into step beside you - inviting you to stop acting like a loner and to sit with him and Jake and the rest of his friends. You debated taking him up on the offer for a moment, only to spot Michael sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria. You declined immediately, not looking back as you crossed the room to join Michael. That became your routine - sliding into a seat near Michael, talking about video games and whatnot, and occasionally letting the topic slip to Jeremy as Michael had the habit of occasionally venting about the boy.

“I mean,” he started one day, pointing a fork in your direction, “you remember how he is. He’s just... so in love with her,” he shook his head, “and, I mean, yeah, it’s Christine, but he could, y’know... not abandon me every day.”

You nodded, “I’m sure he’s just blinded by his crush, Michael.”

He nodded, stabbing into his burrito bowl, “I know...” He trailed off, looking away for a moment, “I just... he’s excited about this and - and that’s great! He’s actually sort-of talking to Christine!” He smiled back at you, “every time he talks about her, he gets that stupid look on his face. He practically has heart eyes, [y/n].” He paused for half a beat, “but... y’know, I can’t blame him. He keeps talking about how she’s been helping him with his lines, and that she’s so passionate about theatre...”

You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. From your limited interactions with Christine, she seemed to be a complete sweetheart. No wonder Jeremy liked her.

“In time, he’ll like you more.” It nudged it’s way in between your thoughts, “as long as you do what I tell you to. I’ve got a plan-”

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you busied yourself with your lunch. “Sure, buddy.”

The stern silence that responded to your tone spoke volumes. But like a knife through butter, Michael’s voice washed away the slight tension you’d begun to feel: “hey, do you still draw?”

You perked up at the question, turning your full attention back to Michael, answering with a far-too chipper “yes!” You immediately forced yourself to calm down, “yeah, I, uh, I still do. My art’s changed a lot, though,” you kind-of smiled, “I have a, uh, pretty decent following online now. I’m just glad I get to do what I love.”

Snagging his phone from his pocket, Michael went silent for a moment as he opened up his tumblr app. “There’s this artist that Jeremy and I discovered - they seem really fucking cool, dude, and they seem like someone you’d like-”

And then you were met with your own artwork, tagged with your online alias, and you had to resist the urge to immediately spill that he’d found you online after you remade your account. You could feel your SQUIP’s fingers gripping your shoulder, and you bit your tongue as you nodded, giving some half-hearted answer about how they seem cool, sure, before wondering why it had stopped you from saying anything.

You didn’t address it until later. Halfway through your homework, you looked up and pushed yourself away from your desk. “Hey.” You spoke aloud.

Within seconds, your SQUIP proceeded to materialize in front of you. “You’re speaking aloud-”

“I know,” you said with a hand wave, “my parents are still out. What was up with that earlier?”

“You shouldn’t go around saying things-”

“But it’s Michael,” you refuted, “I trust him. Besides - wouldn’t telling him that get me closer to Jeremy?”

It’s cold gaze made you shrink under pressure. “I have a plan. [y/n]. If you want to get Jeremy, you have to obey.”

“What about what I want?” You forced yourself to stand your ground, staring at the figure before you, “what if I want to do things differently?”

“You bought me for a reason.” It crossed its arms, watching you, “this is what you want, though. That’s why I’m here: to help you get what you want. And what you want is Jeremy. I’m going to help you get Jeremy, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, [y/n].”

Pressing your lips together, you mustered up a weak nod. Right. “Sorry,” you finally said, “I just - I’m scared it’s not going to work.”

“It will.”

When Michael invited you over the next day, you were more than happy to take him up on the offer. He began to reason it as well, Jeremy’s at play practice, before he ended up dropping the facade and admitting he still kind-of missed you and that it’d been a while since he’d kicked your ass at video games (and, fuck, the glimmer in his eyes when he said that was enough to make you agree, and you realized in that moment just how much you actually missed Michael). So he drove you to his house, letting you take complete control of the music, and then he left you in the basement to find any games you’d be interested in while he grabbed some snacks from the kitchen.

While the two of you played, you talked idly when the situation would allow it. About anything. About everything. About trips Michael had taken with his moms, about his and Jeremy’s brand new Halloween tradition of watching horror movies - usually the shittier ones - and gorging on candy, about how your parents always seemed so busy (and almost immediately Michael offered up his house for whenever you didn’t want to be alone, and you melted a little at the offer). The entire time, the room felt too quiet, even among the conversation and the music of each game. At first, you thought it was because Jeremy was missing. Things didn’t feel right without him. But it hit you, right as you were laughing at something Michael said.

“Hey!” Michael brightened up at his idea, “you should join us.” When you looked over, slightly confused, he continued, “the, uh, Halloween thing? You should join our marathon.”

You faltered for a moment, looking down at your controller. Your voice isn’t your own as you speak, saying some sort of confirmation that felt too distant for it to be you. The guilt built within you, as you pushed yourself to hide the feeling while turning your attention back to the game, back to beating Michael this round. But the thought lingered.

You were using Michael Mell.

#mj's writing corner #be more chill #bmc #be more chill x reader #bmc x reader #be more chill reader insert #bmc reader insert #jeremy heere #jeremy heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine

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stratamuzak · 4 years

Text

Interview with Voltagehawk

STRATA: What artists in particular you are drawn to (alive or deceased) that you listen to for particular moods? Such as happy/sad/contemplative/etc… Explain why you might listen to one artist for a particular mood.

CHASE AROCHA When I want to feel inspired I listen to a lot of the different projects of Mike Patton. Be it Faith No More, Mr. Bungle, Peeping Tom, or Tomahawk, the range of styles of music is so diverse that I’ve been listening for like 15 years and I haven’t gotten bored yet, haha. When I want to relax or chill, I love BadBadNotGood, an amazing jazz artist doing incredible arrangements all in a hip-hop context. It’s great! Or Ray Lynch, I really love his writing and use of counterpoint melody. Then if I’m getting hyped I put on something like Dying Fetus or Vitriol, or Maximum the Hormone. And any other time I’m blaring Kamasi Washington, Robert Glasper and Sturgill Simpson.

DAN FENTON I think a lot of the time music finds my mood. Sort of more a spiritual or cosmic connection. When I was a kid my mom would make us watch musicals if we stayed home sick from school. Jokes was on her because I hated school but I loved learning musical scores and how to write dynamic parts and movements. The fact that people like Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire, Frank Sinatra or Marlon Brand were also amazing actors only added to that unlikely education. I learned how to really feel music between that and the intense very bloody hymns we had to sing in church. I understand the sentiment but that shit is harder than a lot of black metal. “Are you washed in the blood of the lamb”. Hard core shit. Sorry, I digress. During the making of our most recent record which is called Electric Thunder and set for release later this year or early next (hard to navigate releases with all this pandemic shit) I listened exclusively to film scores, classical music and radio evangelists. I am not religious but I grew up in a preacher’s home and when I needed to get my creative push and anger at its peak, I listened to preachers who were clearly greed driven and motivated by the lust for power. It made my adrenaline rush in anger and it came out in the recording for sure. I am a huge fan of Hans Zimmer and Vangelis. Each of these artists move me in powerful ways. The juxtaposition of darkness and light both in traditional instrumentation and experimental synth based work. Just musical giants. When I am feeling frustrated about the social issues I see everyday in my East Nashville neighborhood I listen to KRS-One, Kamasi Washington, Outkast. A lot of protest music. I am in love with band IDLES from the UK. Such powerful lyrics tackling issues like the need for male vulnerability, equality for all and the seemingly ironic brutal beat down of toxic masculinity. That band is great if you’re happy, mad, sad, whatever.

STRATA: Do you have a process you go through prior to writing, playing, and even performing?

CHASE AROCHA I do a lot of breathing exercises like the Wim Hof techniques. I have generalized anxiety disorder and I used to get horrible debilitating panic attacks, it helped me get into breathing and meditation. Anxiety will never go away but you learn ways to live with it and push through your panic. I think about how much this means to me and how long I’ve spent doing it, I try to see that I value myself as a person and then from that thinking I can just let go and play music. Only approaching it with love and not worrying about mistakes because that’s how we learn.

DAN FENTON The entire thing is one process. Like a heros journey of sorts. I listen and meditate everyday, I believe in a cosmic river of inspiration that flows from an energy that is and has always been. I believe if you listen hard enough and give yourself to the music the muse will send your mind transmissions that may only be a section of a song, or perhaps they are an entire album, but everyday I show up. A few years ago I read this book called The War Of Art, by Steven Pressfield. In this book he describes the invisible force he calls the Resistance. The Resistance may be things both “good or bad”, but they are anything that keeps you from showing up for your art. So I show up everyday, you can ask the dudes in the band, they receive a work tape maybe twice a week with new shit to try out. If I don’t feel that muse working I don’t force it, but I instead wait on further transmissions from the cosmic womb. All sounds crazy, but my story is crazy, so crazy makes the most sense. In the studio I have many processes. I found while recording vocals I perform better in complete darkness, I have realized how much I live inside my head and how active my imagination is and equally ADD my eyes are. So when I can’t see it brings to life the imagery and the passion of the song. I can see all those people I write about, all the landscapes, the love, lust, joy and pain. I also do some method stuff, keep things in my pockets pertaining to a character I may be portraying in a song. Wanna be Daniel Day Lewis shit.

STRATA: Your own current project, discuss the process your music went through as you built each layer. From beginning to the end of it.

CHASE AROCHA This all started with our drummer Jarrad having a vision and going through trials and errors of finding the right people to execute that. Along the way Dan, Tyler, and I all came into the picture and that vision morphed into something we all felt was not even from us. Like we were an antenna receiving a signal and these riffs and lyrics quickly meshed into something I haven’t heard before. Part hard rock, part jazz, part punk and hardcore. All with this message of love and truth being the reason for living. To end the ones controlling our thoughts and dividing us or tribalism and greed. I feel like we made something worth listening to and that’s all I feel like you can really hope for.

DAN FENTON The self titled record that we have available now on all streaming platforms was two different profound stages in my life all in the making of one record. When we began, Jarrad and I partied a fuck ton, and I was descending into some serious personal shit with alcohol. It was bad, I couldn’t get through a day without way too high of a blood alcohol level. Before we finished vocals on the record, I stayed up one night working and drinking, perhaps I had never stopped from how many nights before, who fucking knows. Anyhow, I died for 9 minutes on the side porch of my house. Fully shut down, fucking dead. Mind you, I didn’t want to die, I just didn’t know how to lay off the bottle. Woke up in the ICU surrounded by my band, my wife and what few friends I had left. At that moment Voltagehawk became a complete family to me. I spent a stint in rehab (Jarrad drove me) and that was several years ago now. When I got out I went back to finish the record, make some amends and chase this thing out for real. So that was some info on the first record. The new Album which is a 13 song space odyssey named Electric Thunder, after our beloved Electric Thunder Studio owned and operated by our resident space wizard producer Geoff Piller, was not so dramatic. After I got my shit together and my mind cleared up I began to write everyday like a mad man. Song after song after song came like never before. I think we cut 15 songs out before we settled on the final 13. Our process as a band is often for myself or one of the other dudes to present a bare bones or often finished idea to the band and we run it through the Hawk Filter. The Hawk Filter is just the decomposition and reconstruction of every rough idea till it fits us. Which is silly to say because if we like, it we do it, not a matter of genre worship. Shit’s good, do it. Always do what’s best for the song.

STRATA: Can your music personally be an open door to breath and bend in the world of artistic exploration? In Other Words… how comfortable are you as an artist exploring other types of music and creating projects that might be totally different than what you are creating now?

CHASE AROCHA There is so much great music in the world in so many styles, why shouldn’t we try to explore them all! I’m always trying something I haven’t done before, not always as a challenge, but I would hope it’s natural for people to do in art. We shouldn’t be the same people we were 2 years ago, let alone 10. I love jazz, Death Metal, and country music. If you can find a really fun and genuine way to blend those then that’s absolutely what you should do! Don’t be tied down to what kind of music you’re making and just make music.

DAN FENTON That’s all we do all day. Everything on this planet, and above it, and in it’s majestic seas and mountains, all these people of all the cultures of all the world and their energy and their culture all influence and musical inspiration is welcome. Our philosophy is never say no, and jump off the cliff, and pull yourself back up. Meaning: try all the musical options then settle on the one we believe is the most amazing. So much of our influence is from cinema and books, video games, you name it. I’ll pluck a support cable on every bridge I see ‘til I am dead just to see if it speaks to me. Sonically there are no fucking rules, and if you impose rules, fuck your rules. We love to create, to talk about creating and then to birth something new is beyond amazing.

STRATA: Are you open to change your style, genre even, and approach to how and what you create every time you enter a studio? Or do you find once you have a formula in place do you find it best to stay with what you know? Many times artists will change how they approach their songwriting and even their recording staff/producers.

CHASE AROCHA

Like I said before, I believe that you should just make music and with that should come constant experimentation. When we record we find sounds from all over the place. From children’s toy instruments, to skateboard wheels spinning to imitate rain. Our writing is kind of always evolving and changing. Dan is an amazing writer who literally has lyrics and melodies pouring out of his hands and face. Everyday he has new ideas and records and sends them to everyone. Jarrad is great at taking those riffs and making suggestions on how the structure could be of a song along with feel. I am obsessed with adding layers of guitars however I can, but I also write a lot and send tracks as well. Tyler is a tone junkie on the bass, filling in the bottom end and has such a great approach to being independent from the guitars with his lines. We send tracks back and forth to each other then we get in a room and flesh them out. The whole time in the process the songs are constantly changing and evolving into the sound we have. We are always open to change and never believe in the word No when discussing music and art. You try every idea and see what works and what doesn’t. Sometimes when one member has a vision of how a song should go and is trying to communicate that, you should respect his idea and see it through. If it doesn’t work that’s okay, we tried!

DAN FENTON Voltagehawk is ever evolving. As it stands, we spend way too much time trying to pigeon hole what people will refer to our sound as. I don’t care what you call it as long as it moves you. I listen to everything from John Coltrane and Tom Waits to Napalm Death and Motorhead, Antonio Lucio Vivaldi to Kamasi Washington. IDLES and Bad Brains. If you refuse to evolve as an artist, experimenting, growing, trying new methods, all these elements then you cannot grow as a human being. Too many people are happy where they are, just okay, making the same music that their dads made and trying to cosplay some kind of yesteryear. We don’t do that shit, we’re us, that’s it. We grow, when you hear the Electric Thunder for the first time you will understand everything. If you burn some sage next to a photo of Carl Sagan while you listen to Electric Thunder, you will see the cosmic river in your minds eye. The world is full of people with a blockage in their brain. They cannot see that this bullshit we call a life is just a series of labor for hire gigs that leave us rapidly in the middle. We’re trying to break away from it all and follow our feathers, our truth, our search for enlightenment on our hero’s journey. I’ll leave you with this. Know Thyself.

#voltagehawk

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kotlc-oneshots · 5 years

Text

Blind!keefe au

Hey all!!! Sorry I’ve been dead, but writings block kills lol. Anyways I got this idea off of some lame discord convos and uhhh I hope it’s good. Also it’s late and lmao I have no motivation to edit my own writing uhhh here u go. Some mild swearing. Will be Kam if I keep going w it. Lov yall.

*~*~*

Pt.

one

Keefe

I’m lying in bed, of course, when the shrieking of my alarm goes off about four feet away from me. I blink my eyes open until they don’t feel sticky and gross, then grab my alarm clock. It’s a simple thing, a brick with about 5 buttons total on it, probably.

I pushed the button on the bottom left corner, and the loud wail finally ends. I groan and rub my head, wishing the colors and blobs that cloud the center of my milky vision would just come into focus.

However after years of hoping for that, every morning, I know nothing is going to happen. With a small sigh, I go into my ultra-specifically organized dresser.

Today is the first day of my senior year. Even if I wont be able to see myself, I want to know that others will appreciate the way that I look- or, at least, am dressed. There’s not a lot I can do if there’s anything wrong with my face or hair. I wish I could, though- even though I’ve been blind since birth, I still always want to look presentable. In order to do that, my friends help me once every other week to organize my outfits for the upcoming 14 days. It started in sophmore year, when Sophie got the wonderful idea, and it's been a tradition since. And thanks to my ‘photographic (ha) memory’, I always know what clothes I’m wearing. Always.

I’m about halfway dressed when hear a beep from the direction of my bed.

“New message from Fitz.” The automated, robotic voice of Siri tells me.

“Hey siri- read message from Fitz.” I respond, then finish putting on the rest of my clothes.

“Ready for your first day as a senior?” she reads back to me. I automatically change the sound to Fitz’s deeper, more human voice in my head. It’s pointless, but necessary.

“Hey siri- text Fitz ‘hell yeah brother.’” After a quick confirmation of what I’m sending, I go into the bathroom next to my bedroom. I carefully feel my way around for my toothbrush and brush my teeth, then proceed to run my hand through my hair. For a short moment, I wish I could see myself as more than a blob of milky, too bright color, but it fades quickly. I’d rather not think about it. So I finish up in the bathroom, then return to my room for my bag. With a quick ‘hey siri’, I manage to find my phone as well.

After a few more voice commands, I receive the news that Fitz will be here to pick me up at 7:30, which gives me about 20 minutes. I hop over to the kitchen and make myself a quick, hearty bowl of cereal. Being me, I choose the healthiest kind- Lucky Charms. When finished, I smile to myself and set the bowl near the sink- I know my dads at work by now, so I don’t have to worry about him. Sometimes there’s good things about waking up early. As I slip my bag on and go to the door to wait, I remember how lucky I am to have such a good memory, and such a constantly cleanly household. Otherwise, I’d be as clumsy in my house as Sophie is. I grab my cane and walk outside, chiding myself for thinking so much about the little things.

Fitz is there, honking his horn, about 5 ish minutes after I get outside. Sophie yells at him for being annoying, and I chuckle a bit. A window rolls down, and Biana’s voice comes through hollering to go to the back passengers side. I use my cane to help me a little bit, then grab onto the ledge made by the open window. I proceed to find the door handle, then carefully step into the car.

“If any freshman gives you crap today, you have full right to hit them with your cane.” Dex, who must be on on the other side of Biana, says.

“Thank you. I’ll definitely do that,” I respond with a laugh, and I can practically feel the worry in the air as Sophie warns me not to.

“We really don’t want you to get suspended on the first day. So just wait until tomorrow, and give them an extra hard whap on kneecap.” Biana adds cheerily.

“This is why you’re my favorite.” I awkwardly try to wrap my arm

around her head, but fail miserably. My peripherals are even worse than the center of my vision- there’s almost no light visible towards the edges. So I end up hitting her on the head, and play it off by messing her hair up. This, of course, causes her to whack my arm and call me a jerk.

“Alright, dumbasses, knock it off,” Fitz, my best friend of the

past 6 years, yells. “By the way, Keefe, we’re pulling in now.” A knot forms in my stomach. Man. First day of senior year at Foxfire. I can’t believe its so close to being over. The beginning of the end.

We pull into the parking lot and step out of Fitz’s Volvo. I turn towards the building, and take a deep inhale of the crisp morning air. My friends and family always like to comment on how pretty the building looks. Foxfire is a really prestigious private high school, and I know that they put a lot of money into the architecture

and the grounds. It's a pity that all I see is a building shaped blob of its beige color, and the faint blobs of green and other colors that I know are trees.

I try not to let myself think about it.

We walk into the building, and Fitz automatically splits off. He's supposed to help some teacher set up the presentation that the Freshman go to. I love him, but it's the first day of school and that man is already busy. This year is gonna be rough if we wanna keep up our hangout sessions- although, we both did take the same 6 AP classes. We’ll probably study together, when he’s not with his million other commitments.

After a few hugs and highfives, and a few debate friends greeting me, I go to my first class. I’m /not/ getting caught in that crowd, especially with the idiotic freshman pretending that they own the place. Off to AP music theory it is. C118 is easy enough- no stairs, and it's a pretty straight shot to the classroom. Again,

I thank my perfect memory to get me around. I may not know what the building looks like, but I basically have the blueprint downloaded in my head. Good times, man.

First period doesn’t result in much. We all get a copy of the syllabus, and a short introductory reading. I can feel a tinge of annoyance when the teacher acknowledges my inability to.. Uh, read it, but a girl named Linh volunteers to help me out with it. She seemed nice enough. She had a bit of a Canadian accent, and when I asked about it she confirmed that she was from… Minnesota. She was really sweet, and I’m genuinely hoping that’ll become a friendship.

The next couple periods go uneventfully. Fitz is in one of them, and Dex the other so I don’t have to worry about another situation like in first period. And the teachers always let me go about 2-3 minutes early, so I can avoid the crowds- that is, until lunch. I’m on my way down to the cafeteria when I run into… someone. They must have been very quiet- I didn’t realize they were that close to me and coming around the bend. So when they did, we kinda collided. I hear a soft curse when they thud to the ground, and from the shape and sound I know its a guy. I put the cane in my left hand and offer to help him up. I’m not sure what it is, but he doesn’t accept it.

“You good man? I didn’t see ya there.” I laugh a little, because

duh. He doesn’t. I can’t really make out any of him- his hair is /probably/ black- and this agitates me, because he doesn’t respond. And then he practically runs away.

I have no way to identify him- probably a dumb freshman that didn’t want his ass kicked by the blind senior. Trying to shake off the interaction, I roll my eyes and start on my way to lunch again.

“Honestly, today was AWFUL. The second half, at least.” I’m now at Fitz’s house, along with Dex. “I already told Dex about that one guy that ran into me, but Stats teacher was awful. She probably heard something from Michaels about last year- just because I rarely showed up doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing! I got along in that class fine.”

“Keefe, I taught you like half of that course.” Fitz replies, laughing.

“Because you actually know how to do math! Michaels is an awful excuse for a pre calc teacher. Dex, be glad that you got Hex.” I retort. It’s not wrong- Mr. Michaels had been very incompetent. If not for Fitz, I would have gotten the worst grade I ever had in my high school career.

“You know I am.” Dex agrees. “Even Hex hates Michaels, but she won’t admit it. Outright, at least.”

“Ok, enough about horrible teachers. Tell me about the guy who ran into you.” Fitz pipes up, not wanting to be apart of a conversation dissing his soccer coach. I let him divert the conversation, even though I really wanna rag Michaels to the ground most of the time.

“Well, that's the thing. There’s nothing to tell- I ran into him and he fell. Then he ran away, without saying a word,” I say. “I wanna know just as much as you do.”

“That’s cute.” Dex comments, and I shake my head.

“You know what I mean.”

“Suuuuureee.” The tone of his voice makes me hit him, which starts a wrestle between the three of us that lasts for about half an hour. By the end of it, I’m sure I have multiple bruises from falling, kicking something wrong, and getting hit, but I don’t care much. We fall into a panting heap on Fitz bed, and we through half hearted punches at each other that hold no intention. Needless to say, I’m sweaty and gross, and when Fitz informs me that it's almost 8, I ask to go home. A man's gotta shower- and get his beauty sleep.

So Fitz drives me and Dex home, the three of us having pointless conversation about classes and plans we should make. I get dropped off first, and they wait as I carefully make my way to door of my house, not leaving until I get inside. I hear the thrum of his engine as Fitz drives off, then make my way to the bathroom.

After a quick shower, I brush my teeth and head off to bed.

I drift off, and my thoughts are filled with a mysterious blob with probably black hair and evil math equations.

#keeper of the lost cities #dex dizznee #kotlc #keefe sencen #sophie foster #tam song #blind!au #fitzvacker #writersblock #highschool!au

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z2aseaqj-blog · 5 years

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Renters insurance?

what exactly is renters insurance all about? is it pretty important or a waste of money?

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