#lovely lovely fic. one of those fics where you HAVE to read aloud to process it halfway thru because it’s soo deliciously twisted

[cobra-wives]

serious philosophical question; should one of us kick the bucket?

small comic page thingy for the INSANE fic that is zelotypia by @terrence-silver - i definitely recommend giving it a read! so much interesting perspective on that ponytail-kreese-twig trio goodness; and terry’s inner workings and detestment for everyone that john loves more than him!

[ghostofskywalker]

Where You’re Meant To Be - 4

Will Turner/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,102

Summary: After being taken prisoner aboard the Flying Dutchman, you resent the men who have accepted your soul as repayment of another’s debt, especially the Captain. It doesn’t matter one bit that he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, not at all.

Flower and Meaning: frangipani || the strength to withstand tough challenges

Chapters: one || two || three || four

Note: this is the last part of my august work for the @yearofcreation2023​! i hope everyone who read it enjoyed the fic and i’d love to hear any thoughts you have!

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Will Turner Masterlist

Despite not spending too much time on the Dutchman in the grand scheme of things, you could tell when it was near because of the excitement that bubbled in your stomach, even though you couldn’t see the ship itself. You looked out over the shifting waves, wondering how far below them the ghost ship sat, until a voice interrupted your thoughts. “How are you gonna let them know you’re ‘ere?”

You turned to see Jack Sparrow standing next to you, bottle of rum in his hand. If this ship wasn’t as close to the Flying Dutchman as it already was, you would probably be a little worried about his ability to successfully steer and maneuver the ship you were on right now.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I don’t suppose you would know how to contact those who live beneath the waves.”

“Why don’t you just jump?”

You raised your eyebrows in response. “But I know how to swim, so that wouldn’t work.”

“You have to sink.”

“But what if I was wrong, and I die for nothing?” That very fear, while you had never spoken about it aloud before, had always been part of your thought process.

“Some things require risk,” Jack responded. “That’s just what being a pirate is. Course my risk usually comes down to angry government people and the visitation of a particularly annoying monkey, but you understand.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Look. I may believe the whole thing is a crock of shit, but sometimes love is the same thing as jumping off the deck when you know how to swim; a risk and a chance that things won’t go as you wanted.”

He stepped away from the side of the ship before you had the chance to form a response, leaving you to ponder his (surprisingly wise) words. And the longer you thought about it, the more his initial suggestion made sense. The hopeful part of your mind believed that the ship would still protect you as you fell beneath the waves, just like when you were tied to its mast. Your clothes were heavy enough that you would likely sink after a few minutes, and wherever the Dutchman lay beneath the surface, you knew deep down that it was near. And so with nothing but a deep breath and a far-flung hope, you jumped before anyone could stop you.

The chill of the ocean soaked through the layers of your dress immediately, and soon the fabric was completely waterlogged. You didn’t fight the way it moved to pull you under, and you just hoped that you were indeed correct about the location, because otherwise you’d be dying for nothing.

But that worry was soon resolved when you opened your eyes to see the blurry outline of a ship in the depths, and the moment you entered its space, you felt as though you were back on land. The deck was completely empty, but you could tell those seaweed sails anywhere. You were exactly where you needed to be.

As your feet hit the wood, the sound of someone stepping onto the deck echoed in your ears, and you watched intently to see who would be the one to greet you. If it wasn’t Will, you weren’t sure what you would, because you knew that no one else on this crew would give you the same grace as the captain. Even then, you hadn’t really come up with the perfect thing to say when you saw his face again.

You heard Will’s voice before he had fully exited the shadows, and part of you breathed a sigh of relief, knowing who you were dealing with. “What are you doing here?”

There was so much that you actually wanted to tell him, but nothing seemed right. “I want to travel on this ship,” was what you eventually went with, even though that sentence did little to convey the true scope of your emotions.

It was clear that your words confused him, because it took a few moments for him to actually respond. “Why?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face. “Why would you want to spend the rest of your life on a cursed ship, away from everyone else you knew? None of the men on this boat want, or even chose to be here, but you do?” He sounded truly confused, but you supposed it was warranted this time.

Footsteps echoed through the space before you could answer, and you looked around to see who else would be privy to your conversation, though you saw no one. “I thought I wanted to leave,” you admitted. “But every moment I’ve spent back at the port since then I’ve wanted to be back here, and I can’t explain it.” Maybe that was a little bit of a lie, but you didn’t want to scare him off right away if he didn’t feel the same things you did. “I understand it if you think I’m crazy, but I just jumped off a ship in the middle of the ocean and I highly doubt that the people who took me here are still around, so if you’re going to make me leave I’d at least appreciate it if you took me back to Tortuga.”

You stared at him, and he stared back. It was impossible to read what he was thinking, his face blank as he clearly considered your words and tried to come to a decision how to respond. “Fine,” was his eventual response, but something in your mind told you that he was a lot happier to see you than he let on. “You can stay.”

***

As it turned out, having someone who technically wasn’t dead on the crew was incredibly useful. While most of the men on board were tied to the ship in a similar war that Will was (they couldn’t step more than a few paces on land), you could go wherever you wanted. This was especially beneficial when you came to the realization that you had nothing on the Dutchman, no bed, clothes, or even shoes due to the way that you hadn’t taken your few things with you when you jumped overboard in the first place. By the time a few weeks had passed, you had even purchased a light mattress and hauled it aboard the boat yourself (with the help of some of the crew once you reached the water).

And speaking of the crew, you had a shaky relationship with them. While you didn’t ever fear for your life, you certainly weren’t voluntarily spending your time around most of them. Part of you wondered if Will said anything while you were out on land, but you could never tell for sure.

You moved into the captain’s room and everything was shifted over to accommodate the new mattress. Food and water were now stocked much more often than ever before (because you weren’t dead, so you still had to eat), and the tension between you and Will continued to rise with every moment you spent on the deck.

It was the middle of the night when everything came to a head, and you were laying on the deck as you stared up at the night sky. After spending the day watching the macabre parade of souls as they crossed the delicate path between worlds, the shimmering majesty of the constellations was a welcome change of scenery. The sound of footsteps on the deck alerted you to another’s presence, and Will’s voice broke the silence.

“Had enough of this life yet?”

You sat up to watch as he leaned against the side of the ship, an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite read. “What are you talking about?” you asked.

“I figured that eventually you’d figure out what we’ve known for ages,” Will said. “That life on this ship is nothing but grim and grisly, and once you realized that you’d want to return to land. You’re the only one on this ship that is not bound in its service, I suppose I find it difficult to believe that you want to be here.”

You paused for a moment as you tried to decide how to respond. “I suppose I can understand it, but after you had dropped me off the first time, I spent nearly every moment on land wishing that I could return. There’s a power and a freedom that comes with being on the ocean, and I wanted to know that feeling again.” After you finished speaking, a gentle tap of your fingers to the boards of the deck coaxed Will to sit beside you.

“Then why not simply join another crew in Tortuga?” he asked. “Why search out the Dutchman so ardently?”

A moment of fear flashed in your mind, and you debated whether or not to lie to him. This was the moment, and if you screwed this up you would be guaranteeing yourself a ticket off the ship the next time the stopped, even after you spent all this time tracking it down. Should you lie, and make something up about your fascination with the macabre, a morbid interest in the ghastly service that this very ship performs?

You could see Will start to shift where he sat, likely a nervousness due to your lack of response to his question. And before you could think about it any more, something in your mind snapped, and the decision was made. “You.”

“What?”

Well, you had to tell the truth now. “After we stopped yelling at each other every time our paths crossed, I realized that I had grown rather fond of you, and as much as I loved the freedom of the seas, I also realized that none of that would be truly worth the trouble as long as you weren’t there.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them, and you looked away from him, hoping that this wouldn’t be too much of a mistake. “And now I’m here, voluntarily trapping myself on a cursed ship and letting go of life as I knew it before, just to be near you.”

You turned your head to face him, hoping desperately that this didn’t ruin the friendship that you had been cultivating with him, and at first glance, it didn’t seem too promising. With a look on his face that you would describe as stunned, he seemed to completely freeze for a few moments.

Until he reached out to gently pull your face to his.

As his lips sealed to yours, whatever thoughts were currently inhabiting your brain fled instantly, and there was nothing but Will. The way he smelled so clearly of the sea that surrounded you both, and the way his calloused hands were so tenderly holding your cheeks, every bit of that was driving you mad. You might have dreamed about kissing him from the moment he first stepped out of the ship’s shadows, but the clear passion and romance behind this kiss was something that you had only been dreaming about since your moment steering the boat for the first time, a moment which you now could say was finally completed.

When you pulled away for air, neither of you moved that far back, and Will was the first to break the silence. “I missed having you around after we dropped you off at Tortuga,” he said. “And I know that moving forward with this will have its challenges, but I’d really like to do that again.”

“I really want to do that again too,” you said, and just before you leaned in once more, you added to your thought. “And I don’t care about the challenges. If I can find a way to end your service to the Dutchman, I will do everything in my power to make sure it is done.”

His response to that declaration was another kiss, but you didn’t near to hear him speak his thoughts to know what they were.

The two of you would undoubtedly face dangers beyond your very imagination as you moved forward, and the path to free Will from his curse was likely twice as treacherous, but you were unwavering in his decision. You still hated the man who tried to trade your soul for his, but it just might be possible that some things happened for a reason.

And of course, if you’re on the ship when he dies, you would have full input in how he spent his eternity, and you could exact revenge then.

- the end -

if you want to know when i post a new fic, follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library​ :)

[merge-conflict]

8 & 17 for the fic writer asks 🌟

sorry it took me so long to answer yours T-T something happened and now it's 4 days some time later. you know how it is. anyway thank you!! I did want to take some time to answer the second one properly.

questions here

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

tough question to answer because when do I ever leave anything I've written for more than a few months before feeling compelled to continue writing. I'm going to cheat slightly and say there are two things I'd love to continue:

One is the RP I did with @corpocyborg which I'm having trouble finding right now (why am I such a terrible tagger) where Valentine and Valerie did a gig together. It was just such a blast playing them off each other and they made a surprisingly great team. Hard to find a canon where they can both really shine but gosh. That was so much fun.

The second is also OC-related, the stuff I've written with Valentine and @another-corpo-rat 's Victoria Crane. Those two's dynamic is so funny I don't know what they are but it's toxic af. I wrote some smut about the two of them and now I've been thinking about what that meeting over coffee is like afterwards. (I've been watching a lot of killing eve)

Collabs are fun! I love getting the chance to reverse engineer what makes other people's OCs tick and then try to faithfully recreate them in a story.

17. talk about your writing and editing process

I think I answered this one once but I forget and I'm just going to wing it!

I'll be honest I haven't really figured out "plotting" in an advanced way, and am sticking within shouting distance of canon on the longfic, and have fleeting fits of reason which I don't plot longterm at all because it's kind of a cool-down mess-around kind of fic I add stuff to when it sounds fun.

I guess I'll start with considering the shape of what I'm writing –> what the boundaries are, if that makes sense? rough length, and I do mean *rough* like: <1k, 2-10k, nope we're going to have multiple chapters.

Then I take consider the chapter I want to write, as in: what do I want to accomplish? where do I need to go? taking for example indicators of compromise, my objectives are:

textually establish that Alex has a trained eye for detail and analysis

show the rapport (even if it's uneasy) that she has with Reed and how well she knows him

introduce their opinions on Valentine

Then from there the process is basically:

Think of ways to accomplish objectives in the chapter that sound like fun.

Write them down in *some* way, if it's a wip snippet of a scene, [describing what's going on in brackets] or just a barebones script dialog with no description.

Repeat steps 1-2 as many times as needed to get the raw material for the scene that feels fun and satisfying. This may take a fair amount of time.

Finish Draft 0 - where all the scenes are interconnected, and the text written (even if badly), with no remaining [placeholders] or highlights.

Edit. Edit. Edit. Read pieces aloud. Find a rhythm. Edit. Despair. Edit. Despair. Rest.

Optional Beta Step

Publish.

D'oh.

Republish.

[mithrilhearts]

For the writer asks, all questions with a 2 in them, please. :-)

Alright, okay, holy shit lmao this is gonna be a big one. AND I AM UP FOR THE CHALLENGE!! Thank you Fizzy!!

Throwing this under the cut as there are a LOT of questions.

2. Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go?

I already answered this one here!

12. how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

I think every writer loves feedback. All we want to do is yell about our stories with people - that being said, not everyone has the time to leave a comment and I understand that. However, I feel engagement is super important to keep a fandom alive. I try not to get stuck on that though - I feel like I get a decent amount of feedback, and then there's some fics that receive little to none. It's just how things are. Feedback encourages me to work faster on certain pieces, and a lack of engagement makes me feel like I can be slower on others.

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Yes. I use various headcanons, phrases and themes throughout my stories. It's how you know they're mine I guess lol - I always include blueberries in some fashion, I always describe Bilbo's hazel eyes meeting Thorin's blues, fireflies and freedom, etc. I love fluff, hurt/comfort, etc. So I like to stick to my wheelhouse and use styles/phrases I know that work.

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

idk @sunnyrosewritesstuff, would I?

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

I won't do reader inserts, or change from 3rd person pov. Those aren't my wheelhouse and I feel uncomfortable trying to do those. As for tropes, pregnancy fics, love triangles, a/b/o, and I'm sure some others, they just aren't really what I'm looking for as a writer.

23. Best writing advice for other writers?

Don't compare yourself to other writers - no one does a fic just like you. You may have a similar concept, but no fic is exactly the same because no author is exactly the same. Also, stats do not determine what is a good or a bad fic. Do not obsess over them, they mean NOTHING.

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

See above and reverse it.

25. What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Probably my TRSB fic from 2022, Between Vices & Virtues. It's a 40k multichapter I worked very hard on over the course of 2-3 months and it just feels like it didn't do as well as I'd hoped. I love it anyway :) which is what matters.

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Where The Shadows Lie, definitely. It's a crackshit fic, as I call it. But Fuck Thy Neighbor is creeping up on that list as my very fun rom-com fic lol

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

The planning and actual writing is my favorite part. My least favorite part is the summary/tags/title lol honestly, my bane!

28. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

Some days are better than others. Some days I write 0 words, others I can pump out nearing 3k. It depends on my mood.

29. What’s your revision or editing process like?

I go through my chapter/fic with spelling/grammar in mind. Then once all that is done, I read it aloud (most of the time) to check for flow and what not to make sure it sounds right to my own ears. It's pretty simple, but time-consuming.

32. Name three of your favorite fanfic writers.

I love so many writers???? But the first three that came to mind were @i-did-not-mean-to @sunnyrosewritesstuff and @ahufflepuffhobbit

42. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

So, I am a very slow reader. But the last thing I was working on reading was a WIP by @theladygreiwolf, already, I definitely recommend it, but it's not ready yet 👀

52. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes. I try to respond to as many comments as possible - I do this because I like to engage with other people about xyz story. I also want people to know how much I appreciate that they took the time to leave a comment, it's the least I can do in return!

62. Thoughts on cliffhangers?

I love cliffhangers. I use them now and again in my own works!

72. What order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Chronological 99% of the time. I think there was (1) whole case where I wrote the end of a chapter and then went back to do the beginning. I was in the mood to write that content, and it had to come out or I'd explode.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

do you think ship AIs see the ship as part of their "body". do you think they'd feel the presence of everyone aboard, using the ship in any digital way (walking through automated doors, using communications, tapping on a screen, etc). imagine the different mindset an AI must have compared to ours, constantly notified of so many people and so many actions, perhaps a comfortable buzz like insects in a hive. some AI must feel at least partially responsible for all those lives aboard their vessel.

I have done nothing but go insane in my free time for the last few years about AI/Robots and different ways of being/experiencing the world. So yes I love exploring incorporeal beings extending their sense of self to their containers/environments. I love thinking machines and nonhuman constructs feeling feelings and getting attached to their select humans/crews.

Murderbot Diaries does it really well. I think the Imperial Radch books do it well with their ships and ancillaries hivemind thing (I've only read 1.5 of the books).

I also joke with people that the crew on the Infinity are Roland's tamagotchis he needs to care for and look after. I have an old ask where I went on about AI but their way of experiencing things is so interesting to consider. More under the readmore so I don't clog everyone's dashes.

I'm going to share a passage from Iron and Gold because it's stuck with me during my descent into AI obsession. It's also a kick-ass fic that has beautiful prose about ai and the way they interpret the world. There are so many examples of things in your ask that the author explores and covers and I think it should be canon supplemental reading material.

 “How about some music?” she offered, navigating through her media. She hit play, and Roland’s smile blossomed into a delighted grin as a synthesized rendition of Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 flowed from the speakers.  “You know,” he said, “I’ve never listened to this album aloud.”  “Really? I thought this was one of your favorites.”  “It is, but I’ve only read the byte order before.”  “Is that how always you listen to— er, experience music? What about movies and books?”  He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “If somebody plays media in an area with sensors, then I can watch and listen to it kind of like you do. Guess it never occurred to me to play things for myself.”  At times like this, she found herself brimming with questions, each one raising more in its wake. What was it like to see without eyes? To hear without ears? To feel without nerves?  “I suppose this must be pretty slow and inefficient by comparison.”  “Oh, it’s glacial.” His avatar’s lips curved into a warm, shy smile. “But I enjoy listening to it with you.”

I love how AI/Robots/Constructs etc are written and how they can experience things. It's all very queer and neurodivergent and I find comfort in the Other and the way considering all the details stretch the brain.

These are beings existing on different scales, on different ways of interpreting time. The sheer processing power and number of thoughts juggled in such small timeframes are fun to consider and how their sense of self and bodies extend to the ship.

Are there favorites amongst the crew? Does the AI watch over them, remind them to eat? Do they adjust the atmosphere or temperatures to keep them comfortable? What about opening doors or lighting hallways? What about acts of service are layered with real compassion and worry?

Does the crew protect their home and friend? Do they defend servers and key areas? Do they keep each other company whether they're going to win the day or it's all going dark?

[redhairedwolfwitch]

Okay I feel like this is going to be a long one, so i'll go ahead and turn my response into an incoherent list of observations, answers to questions or statements that probably don't require them, or to no question or statement in particular and maybe even an incidental unrelated fact or opinion:

Yes, it does suck, but also I decided to use a grater to make thin little flakes of chocolate just for the flavour.

Sucks you can't eat chocolate, are you lactose intolerant? 

Commas are, indeed, very important. Did you know they use commas in musical notation to tell singers when to breathe?

Related to that, singing lessons (or even singing in a choir or something similar) could help with your reading aloud and breathing issues for sure. Although I don't know if you have any singing experience so I'd understand if that's not your thing. I wish it would be everyone's thing though.

Just to throw in a completely random fact, as I am not about to jeopardise the promised incoherence of this list: In medieval times red hair was believed to be a sign of beastly sexual desire and moral degeneration. I assume by your blogname you too are a redhead. I read this today and thought it was wild.

Aching muscles are a sign of hard work, so good job, although it is very important to rest said limbs!

Great job for still going out and facing things you get anxious about, I imagine thats not an easy thing for you. I also hope you have help and/or coping mechanisms to deal with the anxiety you're experiencing.

You're description of the "heartbreak angst fic" is (probably intentionally) quite vague, but I can make out several points. 

I get not wanting big time jumps, although it could be fun to make a jump and then have R reflect what happened in between those moments in time. Could be a tad chaotic, but then again, you know me. 

R crossing paths with their ex sounds rather angsty, so my answer to that is: yes please.

Have you already thought out part 4 completely? I guess (without any context) I'd end exactly where part 4 takes off, but very open. A cliffhanger of sorts, without falling into too much of a cliché ending.

I'm sorry if my answer is too long to post. Although we were going to stop apologising for rambling so scratch this.

Sending you all the love my friend (can I call you my friend now?),

-Chaotic Anon

it's the way i read this, processed some answers but ended up having a nap, then dinner and i just- wow suddenly it's half an hour to midnight...

i can eat chocolate, it's just when i'm stressed my jaw and teeth hate me and it makes biting solid foods a bit grimace-y, y'know, i love chocolate, just not gooey stuff like gooey caramel stuff, don't like goop, it's a texture no no for me sksks

i did not, music was one of the very much underfunded classes when i was in school, before they started cutting hours subjects to make more room for maths, english and sciences. my confidence is on the floor with speaking, singing is... i can hum, humming is better for me, my friend liked my humming once.

yeah, i'm a natural redhead, which means that i need more anaesthetic if i go for any medical procedure (there's research to back it up, we're hard to knock out) and i think only 2% of the planet have red hair, so i stick out like a sore thumb and red heads are barely anyone's type unless it comes to Natasha Romanoff from Marvel, so that's fun... times change sksks

yeah we had to demonstrate that we could do cpr on a dummy for a minute, i fell over trying to stand up after, so that was great too.

my coping mechanisms for my anxiety are messy and depend on why i am anxious, but my psychology degree plus the cbt i've had in the past mean that i am super aware of my thought processes, but it's hard to stop my body from freaking out e.g. racing heart, clenching my jaw in my sleep... when i can sleep, etc

yeah i forgot the name of the fic, is Secret Love Song, my recent one, i have part 2 down, part 3 just feels stuck because i don't know where to end it, or when to post part 2, but R's development in part 2 and part 3 is key to the endings and I just... i'm stuck. also the only way R would cross paths with their ex is the ballon d'or ceremony... and i don't even know where to go with that, so... yeah...

no worries about longetivity, my fics have been in the 5k+ range before so... i have no shame sksks

sure, sure, if you want to be internet friends red haired anxious pineapple such as myself😅🤔 you don't have to be though.

[asshlyyyy]

Fall Treats (Elvis Headcanons)

I liked this one! This may seem like a stupid idea, but I liked how it turned out! Not to mention it’s just more information for the end fic at the end of the month! Part of me is scared to write it, while the other half is excited!

A few more headcanons this month, and hopefully I will start making better ones, that aren’t themed around a holiday or season. Let’s be honest though... that will not stop me for when winter comes. 

Kind of almost forgot that I was posting today... he...he...hehe... Anyways, new fic on Saturday I hope. It will be either Saturday or Sunday!

Masterlist

Pairing: Elvis/ Austin!Elvis x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Spelling and Grammatical Errors

Word Count: 824

You pulled out the container that held all your recipes and searched for your favorite.

Pumpkin Pie... mmm yum.

You wouldn't call yourself a baker...

But you have been craving pumpkin pie for a long time now.

Well... for a couple of weeks since you received some fantastic news.

Not to mention, it would be a nice treat for Elvis.

He was currently away for a meeting, and you knew he was going to be hungry when he got back.

"Ah ha!" You exclaimed as you pulled out the recipe card.

"Okay... let's see here... The crust on one side, and filling on the other."

You had just gone shopping, so hopefully, you would have everything.

"Flour... salt and shortening." You read aloud as you searched for the products.

After you gather those ingredients you read the other side of the card.

"pumpkin.. obviously. Evaporated milk... still sounds weird. Eggs, brown sugar, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and salt. I already have salt out."

You still had no idea what evaporated milk was.

You gathered your ingredients and went back to the card.

There were only seven steps, so hopefully, you will be finished before Elvis got back.

You preheated the oven and got to work on the crust.

As much as some people didn't like the crust, it was the most important part of the pie.

So you got to work.

And boy did you snack the whole time also.

You may have been having a moment for pumpkin pie, but you counted wait.

You absolutely loved snacking, even more so now.

While everything was in the oven baking you made your way to the couch.

Where you took a nap because let's be honest... It's tiring making a whole ass pie.

Of course, you woke up when you heard that loud annoying egg timer you set.

Because lord knows you would have forgotten.

As you made your way over to the kitchen you saw someone standing there bringing the pie out and you let out a scream.

"Elvis! You scared me!" You held your hand close to your heart.

Elvis in return laughed and stood up.

Were you upset that he was back already?

Of course, you were.

You wanted to surprise him and you can't exactly do that when he ruins the surprise.

"'m sorry, sweetheart. Saw ya sleeping when I came in. Didn' want to wake you." He explained.

You let out a breath and walked over to him.

You wrapped your arms around him and let your heart rest.

"It's okay... just wanted to surprise you." You muttered against his chest.

"With pie?"

"That and... something else." You said softly and pulled away.

Elvis looked down at you confused.

"What's the something else?" Elvis asked as he looked down at you.

"Well... You know how I've been eating more? Just been... overly drained more?"

"Yeah?"  

"I'm... pregnant..." you smiled softly.

It took Elvis a while to process what you said.

But when it hit him... it hit him.

"I- that- oh my god, sweetheart." He pulled you closed and kissed you.

"This is great news! I mean- I- we're gonna be parents!" You giggled at his reaction and smiled.

"We are," you said softly and ran your hands through his hair.

"Wait- and you made pumpkin pie? I mean- this is just the best day ever."

"Gotta wait a bit longer for the pie... sadly." You pointed out to him.

The two of you spent your time chatting.

He asked a bunch of questions.

Like when did you find out? Possible names and genders. How many were there?

If there was any question about the baby, he asked it.

It didn't annoy you either.

In fact, you found it quite cute.

Elvis was excited... and so were you.

You guys have talked about having a baby now for months.

Even before the two of you were married, you talked about how many kids you guys would have.

It was always between three and/or four.

You didn't want too little, and you didn't want too much.

You wanted the perfect amount.

Then you discussed the many ways Elvis would spoil them.

Because let's be honest... the man has a spending problem.

When the pie was cooled enough, the two of you dug in... and kept digging in.

In fact, you two finished the whole pie.

Which sucked, but you could always make more.

Fall baking will always hold a special place in your heart.

And this day just made it even more magical.

Want to join my taglist? // Let me know If I spelt any wrong! I have updated my form for my taglist. You will be tagged under everything now in that selected fandom/person. Just makes my life easier.

Taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s, @mommy-maia, @yagirlalexx, @slutforblueeyes, @alligator-person, @diorxmimi, @anangelwhodidntfall, @pumkiinpasties, @djconde58, @starryhazee, @21bruhs, @girlblogger2002, @dollfaceyourfear, @smbonilla2002, @homebodybirkin2003, @apparently-sunshine, @dark-as-love, @pandora-journey, @hsstylesrings, @jeonggukschris, @4everrmore, @bewitched-tales, @thelaziest10, @butlersluvbot, @curatedbyemily, @lovingly-unlovingme, @starlight-jpg, @omegellenlouise, @gyomei-tiddies, @Chlobug07, @wandawiccan60, @re3kin, @Itzjira18, @passengerjett, @neepo, @vane28282, @emilykolchivans, @gothantoinette, @gruffle1, @ilovemuppets, @hangmanswhore, @theinvibislecapricorn, @hariestyles1, @annamarie16, @holliemahady, @misacc08, @Brighteyesscum, @marchingicenotes7, @callthedarknessdown, @domaniquessidehoe, @gay-af-satan, @skinnypantsmcgee, @sassyblazecloud, @lovelyney, @lordandmistress, @Sharkslayersblog, @billysway, @nuo0n, @coldonexx, @adoreyouusugar, @aliciaelle47, @kh1898, @danitheedanimal, @raefoxiegirl, @cobra-kaii, @rylee-durhxm, @bob-the-tomato, @crabat-the-queen, @naveyelise, @austinbutlersgirlfriend, @iluvnerds69, @hopefulinlove, @aradevil, @Tylerdurdenisme, @laperceval, @xcallmetaniax, @londonalozzy, @mslizziesblog, @rosemochaaesthetic-blog, @bxbylexi23, @gloomynigvts, @persephones-blood-iris, @milaa24, @randompointlessbeauty, @auds02, @BubblyYork, @nora-nexus-34, @jazmin2211, @kittenlittle24, @Rqseycheeks, @moonbird1507, @bobthefishiesworld, @cevans-winchester, @luckyevansstan, @noorreads, @idc123sworld, @normatural, @hauntedarchivesx, @Luna4mnoon, @imagineslut01, @Kayleealicej, @thatcrazyfangirl22, @amiets2, @loveisalover, @myguiltypleasures21, @poppet05, @xcallmetaniax, @fullmetal-falcon, @kaitaesupremacy, @rainydayz101, @asd-n-adhd-fox, @loveisalover, @eliseinmemphis​, @adaydreamaway08, @stitchattacks​, @cmrxac, @vintagegirl50s60s70s80s​, @purexfuego, @dkayfixates​, @fa1ryprincess222​, @virgils-left-hoodie-string

[sheliesshattered]

I have this little post Face The Raven AU that I’ve been poking at off and on for about two years now. It’s never been the primary fic I’ve been working on, but little by little I’ve added to the first chapter, and a few scenes after that, and it’s come together into something I really like.

Only, I have no idea where it’s going. Or really, just a vague idea of how I would want to re-write Heaven Sent and Hell Bent to go with this divergent AU timeline, but not any solid plans for how to get there. I love it as a what-if and a character study, particularly for a slightly darker take on Clara. But I’m not sure if it actually has legs past this point?

I put the finishing touches on chapter 1 the other day, so I thought maybe I’d throw this final-ish draft version of it out here on Tumblr and see what you guys think. Do you like it? Would it be worth figuring out how the plot unfolds from this point? Or is it just too weird for you to want to read more?

The feedback I get on this post will help me decide what to do with this fic, so definitely let me know your thoughts!

Working title: Feral Circle, chapter 1

With a gasp she comes back to herself, lungs aching and circulatory system lurching abruptly into motion. Her final words to the Doctor are still on the tip of her tongue, but she knows, she knows—

She has never been more herself and less Clara Oswald than she is in this moment. She has never more clearly understood the how and the why of Clara Oswald. She has never hated herself more or felt more at home in her own skin.

She has never been more blindingly, incandescently angry.

“Well, shit,” she groans. Her voice is hers and yet not hers, utterly familiar despite the maze of memories now coursing through her mind, and under the control of absolutely no one but herself. This has always been a curse of her own making, a death sentence ordered and carried out by herself alone. But here on the other end of her grand master plan, she is filled with anger and disappointment, instead of the triumph she had so long envisioned.

All those years of planning, all those decades of hiding, wasted, and for what? The life of one solitary human? One inconsequential blip of a boy and his overly adorable offspring?

It was the Doctor with Rigsy’s baby that did her in, really. Damn him. The moment is burned into her mind in a way she knows will stay with her for lifetimes. His or hers or the universe’s, it’s all up for debate just now.

She pushes herself up to sitting, takes a moment to readjust to gravity. She half expected to find herself still on the cobblestones of the Trap Street, but she’s in a quiet back room, laid out on a bed. Of course they hadn’t left her where she fell. The Doctor wouldn’t have allowed it. Not for Clara, not for his Impossible Girl.

She wishes now that she had let him say it, let him confess the words that so desperately needed to be spoken aloud. That’s how native she’d gone, how thoroughly she had believed her own lie, that with moments left until her death all she could think about was sparing his feelings, reminding him to be a Doctor. What an inconvenient time to have finally perfected the art of disguise.

The Doctor is no longer here, he had snarled at Ashildr, Mayor Me, whatever the hell she wanted to call herself. You are stuck with me! And I will end you, and everything you love.

That was him, the love of her life, finally showing his true face for the first time in centuries. And she had to go and beg him to stop. Of all the idiotic things to do.

Every one of her muscles burn in a way that she knows from long experience means this is only a temporary reprieve before her body goes all explodey, just the reset before things get real. She needs to get out of here, she needs to get back to the TARDIS.

She needs to find the Doctor.

How long has it been? This process shouldn’t have taken more than mere minutes, but she can feel the shift in local relativity that can only mean one thing. She’d told Ashildr to remove that stupid transmat bracelet from the Doctor, but then she’d up and died before she was able to enforce that demand. There are voices coming from the next room, but she knows, she knows he’s gone, out of her reach just when she really needs him, just when she finally truly understands, in a way she never once before in her very long life understood, and she is, she is—

She is enraged is what she is. At him, at herself, but most of all at the meddling little bitch who lured them here and ruined everything. This was not the way it was supposed to happen.

Clara Oswald was supposed to die in the Doctor’s arms, someplace far more private. Dramatic, overwrought, and ultimately unavoidable. The perfect climax they’d been building to all these years, the final tragedy after so many narrow escapes. A poignant, heartbreaking end to everything that might have been between them, rendered in blood and tears and the Doctor clutching her broken body. Without an audience.

The rest of it had held startlingly close to script, she is forced to grudgingly admit. He had gone through all the stages of grief right in front of her, threatened to summon armies in her name, to rain down destruction for all time in exchange for her life. He had nearly said the words they had both so carefully danced around for so long, and would have done if her overdeveloped sense of self-sacrifice hadn’t gotten in the way. He was sure as hell thinking them, doing his best to press them into her temporarily-deafened skin in those last moments.

But the key turning point of The Plan— he was supposed to be there when she woke up, he was supposed to witness the miracle of her restoration to life with his own eyes. He was supposed to hold both of those truths in his hands and realise he couldn’t have one without the other. It had come so close to being perfect.

Damn it all to hell.

She pushes her body into motion, every cell screaming out for release. It is irrelevant, unnecessary in this moment: the pain isn’t overwhelming, she can put it off awhile yet. At least long enough to find out where Ashildr’s stupid teleport bracelet sent the Doctor, and maybe wring from her the information of just who set this all up, who was pulling her strings.

It’s only a few steps from the bed to the door, but she refuses to open it until she can make an entrance with some level of dignity. She is Ashildr’s worst nightmare made flesh, and she should sure as hell act like it.

Breath in, breath out. Her ribs ache. Goddamned raven. Stupid bloody quantum shade of all bloody things.

She pulls herself up to her full height. Recites her titles in her head. Reminds herself exactly what all this was for. Lifetimes of work, millennia of longing. A dance of soulmates, played out across all of time and space. One pathetic pseudo-immortal viking isn’t going to stand in her way.

She strides through the doorway like the vengeful goddess of death she is, and revels in the way all conversation comes to an abrupt halt.

“C-Clara??” Rigsy stutters, wide-eyed in her peripheral vision.

She doesn’t bother to correct him. The less he knows, the better. “Run on home now, Rigsy,” she tells him, her gaze fixed on Ashildr with a ferocity that could ignite concrete. The viking girl has gone very pale, and takes a step away from her out of instinct.

“You’re alive! How? How are you alive??” the boy demands.

“Go home,” she tells him again, sparing him a glance. “Go home to your baby and forget this ever happened. Do not look for me. Do not contact me. Do not tell anyone what happened here. Go, now, before I change my mind.”

She doesn’t have to tell him a third time. The newly reunited Janus mother and daughter follow him out the door, leaving her alone with Ashildr and her own mounting rage.

“I don’t understand,” Ashildr says, retreating another step. “You were dead! You should be dead!”

“Death is for other people,” she says, pacing deliberately closer. “Do I strike you as someone who would let a little thing like dying slow me down? Or keep me from the Doctor?” Her voice is clear and steady, anger held in check like a coiled spring.

“But the raven—”

“Where is he?” she cuts her off, in no mood to listen to the babblings of such a pathetic excuse for a lifeform. “Where’s the Doctor?”

“I— I don’t know,” Ashildr says, eyes wide with fear.

“I’ve had a very bad day,” she tells her, angling her approach to block Ashildr’s path to the door. “And I do not have the time to drag the truth out of you in the sorts of painful ways I would prefer. Where. Is. The Doctor?” she demands, punctuating each word with another step closer.

“I don’t know!” the girl insists, backing up against a wall. “They didn’t tell me where they were taking him! All I was supposed to do was put the teleport cuff on him and make sure he couldn’t get to his TARDIS! They didn’t tell me anything else!”

“‘They’ who?” she demands, her patience fraying.

Ashildr shakes her head frantically. “I can’t, they’ll kill me, they’ll—”

Her hand shoots out and she grips the girl around the neck, hard enough to let her know she means business, but not enough to crush her fragile windpipe and make her useless. “I will kill you, don’t for a moment think I won’t. Tell me who took him. Do it now.”

“But all those things you said to the Doctor—”

“None of that was meant for you,” she tells her coldly. “You should not have had any part in my death, and whatever happens to you now, it’s your own bloody fault. Don’t make me ask you again,” she says, tightening her grip fractionally. “Who took the Doctor?”

“The Time Lords!” Ashildr gasps out, hands scrabbling against her grip.

“What?” she spits, her rage climbing to new heights.

“They threatened the Street! I had no choice! No one was supposed to get hurt!”

“Which bloody Time Lords?” she snarls, only barely managing to keep from wringing the life from the viking girl. Ashildr will heal from most things, but she can think of a few ways to make sure she stays dead.

Though, if the girl is telling the truth, her murderous intentions are better directed elsewhere.

“Rassilon, and others with him, I don’t know!” Ashildr cries. “The confession dial, they wanted the Doctor’s confession dial, too. I swear I don’t know anything else!”

She drops her hard against the stone floor, her mind racing as the girl sits at her feet, wheezing and rubbing at her neck. Rassilon and a transmat bracelet and the Doctor’s confession dial. Her bad day has just gotten significantly worse.

“Where is it?” she demands, once she can form a sentence that is anything more than howling obscenities. “Where is his confession dial?”

Ashildr gestures vaguely towards the mantelpiece but says, “They took it already. I was told to leave it there for them, and now it’s gone, they must have—”

“If you are lying to me,” she says, staring down at her and forcing herself to be slow and calm, “I will use that Mire chip in your skull to make your death take a very, very long time. And then I will bring UNIT in here to make sure all your little pets get the same treatment. Do you understand me?”

The girl nods, wide-eyed. “What happened to you?” she asks, a millennia of being all but invulnerable making her reckless. “The raven should have killed you, not turned you into this.”

“The raven killed Clara Oswald,” she replies, her voice detached. “I woke up as myself.”

“Then who are you?” Ashildr presses.

She pauses before answering, both a well-honed inclination towards theatrical gravitas and a moment to consider. Names are tricky things, they can define a person as much as their actions, set a tone and an entire trajectory. There are dozens of names bouncing around her head just now, old and new, real and false. But in the end, there was only ever one name that truly fit.

“You can call me the Master,” she tells the girl. “And for your own sake, you should hope we never meet again.”

--

Of course, she thinks, as she makes her way to where they’d left the TARDIS as quickly as her deteriorating body will allow, she only wishes it was that simple. That clean of a break. Clara Oswald did die in that cobblestone alley — the cover persona, the human façade. And yet the Master knows herself well enough to realise that she is still Clara. She lived that life, she felt those emotions, and never once questioned her own identity. She willingly threw herself into the Doctor’s timestream to save him. She demanded he find a way to out manoeuvre death, if he loved her in any way. She told him that everything he was about to say, she already knew, and she meant it.

She can never go back to being just Clara Oswald, but she will never again not be Clara Oswald, either.

The friend inside the enemy, the enemy inside the friend, she said to the Doctor, back on one of her more self-destructive days, when she was still wearing her last face. She tried to get her future self killed that day, did her utmost to cause the death of her next face without actually assassinating Clara Oswald herself. It was all in pursuit of The Plan, of course, and she remembers wondering at the time if she told the Doctor too much, been too obvious, if he might finally look at the face of the woman masquerading as human and see her real self in there. But he had been simply too relieved to have his Clara back.

Oh what a death that would have been. Pity it didn’t work out.

The TARDIS is locked up tight when she finally reaches it, and she drags her key on its chain out from under her jumper, grateful to have the option. She has a vortex manipulator stashed away just in case, contingencies laid in place long before she became Clara Oswald, but she doesn’t have the time or the patience or the physical resilience to put up with cheap and nasty time travel just now. The TARDIS’s Cloister Bell starts tolling before she’s even got the door open, and she rolls her eyes as she fumbles her way inside. The regeneration process is starting in earnest now, she can’t put it off much longer, and it’s making her clumsy.

“It’s just me, you old cow,” she tells the TARDIS, pushing the door shut behind her.

The rotors make a worried sound overhead, but at least the Cloister Bell cuts out.

“You’ve known it was me for ages, haven’t you?” she asks absently as she goes to the console. She needs a quiet place to do this, somewhere she’ll be able to focus on getting the details right. Earth in this timezone would be easiest. Privacy, but an outdoor space. The Doctor always seems to want to do this inside the TARDIS, for reasons she’s never understood and certainly won’t be emulating. The only thing that could make this wretched day worse is if the TARDIS booted her out or crashed mid-regeneration.

This first, and then she can focus on saving the Doctor. Put your own oxygen mask on first, like the human’s aeroplane safety instructions always say. The Doctor needs her, but she won’t be any good to either of them if she goes off half-cocked with her brain still on fire.

The TARDIS makes another concerned noise, telepathic awareness reaching out, but she bats it away.

“Shush, mummy’s working,” she says, focused on the navigation system. There’s a field she knows, a meadow high up in the mountains, far enough from everything that she’s unlikely to run into any humans...

A holograph that looks like her flickers to life a few feet away. The last time the TARDIS did this, the Doctor was stuck in a pocket universe trying to save a lost time traveller. The TARDIS must have known then what she herself would never have believed, must have recognised her true self hiding in the shell of Clara Oswald. No wonder the old girl had shown such a marked dislike for her.

She barely spares her holographic doppleganger a glance. “We do not have time for this,” she says crisply. “I have places to be, and you are going to take me there.”

“You are a danger to the Doctor,” the holograph says in her own voice, staring her down with lifeless eyes.

With an exasperated sigh, she turns towards the projection. “You do realise what we’re up against, don’t you? What Rassilon is doing to the Doctor, even as we stand here arguing?”

Overhead, the rotors make a distressed noise. Of course the TARDIS knows what’s happened to her madman, what the Time Lords must be doing to him. She bites her lip against asking for gruesome details that will only distract her when she most needs to be focused.

“I cannot permit harm to come to the Doctor,” the holograph says.

“Good, we’re on the same page: I’m not wild about the idea, either.”

“I cannot permit you to harm the Doctor.”

“How exactly am I a danger to the Doctor?” she demands.

The holograph stutters, then flashes rapidly through an array of her previous faces, Missy and Saxon and Yana and back and back through their shared past.

“Oh, don’t go digging up ancient history,” she tells the TARDIS sourly. “How am I, this me, a danger to the Doctor?”

The hologram settles on Missy, sneering out, “You would go to hell if she asked. And she would!”

“Except I’m not the one asking! I’m not the one who’s done this to him, and you bloody well know it. It’s them. The Time Lords. It’s Rassilon, because of-bloody-course it’s Rassilon.”

The projection shifts back to her current face. “And you want to kill Rassilon?” it asks.

Of course I want to kill Rassilon is on the tip of her tongue, but she pauses and forces herself to think through the haze of the beginning of the regeneration process. She has wanted to kill Rassilon for aeons now, but right this moment that’s not the point. “I want to save the Doctor,” she says instead, knowing it’s the truth. “Everything else is secondary.”

With a flicker, the hologram disappears. The overhead lights dim, and she can feel the TARDIS considering, pacing out possible futures branching out from this moment.

“Look, are you going to help me or not?” she demands impatiently. “I have every intention of saving him, just as soon as I’ve got this regeneration situation under control. You are welcome to come along, but if you prefer to leave the saving up to me, I’ll be happy to tell the Doctor that his beloved TARDIS abandoned him when it mattered the most.”

The TARDIS doesn’t respond, and for a long moment the console room is dark and silent, eerily empty in the absence of the one person she can’t bear to lose.

She braces her hands against the console and closes her eyes, dropping her chin to her chest. “Please,” she whispers, not above begging in this suspended, unwitnessed moment. “Please, you have to help me save him.” She gathers up all her worry and fear, all her anger at what Rassilon has stolen from her, all her concern and longing for the Doctor, and pushes it to the surface of her skin, willing the TARDIS to hear her. To believe her. “Please.”

Slowly, the rotors spin back into life overhead, and she opens her eyes to see the lever beside her hand flip itself into the ignition position, sending them into the Vortex. She remembers pulling that lever herself, the side of her hand pressed snugly against the Doctor’s, and her longing for him doubles. Clutching the edge of the console now, her hand has begun to glow with dim golden light, and she knows she’s out of time.

“That little hidden valley in the mountains, you know the one I mean?” she asks the TARDIS, her gaze fixed on the regeneration energy seeping from between her fingers. “Take me there.”

The TARDIS lands quickly, the doors swinging open before she can raise her numb hand to snap. The world beyond is lit by late afternoon sunlight, outlining the waving grass and wildflowers in gold.

“Wait for me, this shouldn’t take long,” she tells the TARDIS, then staggers out into the field, away from the TARDIS, trailing golden light behind her. There isn’t a moment to spare, but she can’t simply release her stranglehold on the energy coursing through her body. No, she has to be far more careful and strategic than that, if she’s to have any hope of salvaging her future.

Controlling the regenerative process, choosing a face, is merely a question of focus. Even the Doctor had managed it, this last time around. And she isn’t replicating someone else’s face, she’s choosing her own all over again, choosing to regenerate into exactly the same form. It ought to be simple enough.

She designed Clara Oswald back when she put The Plan into action, handcrafted all the little details she knew would get under the Doctor’s skin. Big, emotive brown eyes in a pretty face. A small stature, weak looking, so that the Doctor would feel instinctively protective over her. Quick-witted and funny, able to keep up with his babbling and his harebrained schemes. She’s known him for centuries, since they were children — she knows his type. In the end she hadn’t been able to talk herself into masquerading as a blonde, and she is grateful now to realise that gamble paid off. Brunette always suited her better, anyway.

There’s no stopping the regeneration process now, but if she can replicate Clara Oswald all over again, she just might be able to get The Plan back on track. Once this is done, she’ll go save the Doctor from whatever hell Rassilon is inflicting on him, and he will look at her and see his Clara, back from the dead. He’ll look at her and see the Master and all their long history together. He’ll look at her and see Koschei, his first love. He’ll look at her and see her.

Please, just see me he begged her, when she hadn’t yet been able to see the Doctor hiding behind his new face. That’s all she wanted, in the end. To be seen by him.

She can feel the regeneration energy coursing through her, pulsating in a rising tempo, and focuses her mind on what she wants out of this, what she needs.

Her face, her face absolutely has to remain the same. This face was the first face the Doctor saw when he regenerated, he would spot any tiny difference.

Her hands have to be perfect reproductions of themselves. After all these months, the Doctor had finally gotten comfortable with holding her hand again, and he would know if they changed.

Her voice has to be the voice of Clara Oswald. When she calls to him, he has to hear her, the woman he loves.

She resists the urge to add a few inches to her height. Five-foot-one and crying he once said. He would notice if she changed that. Her past faces had always resented his height, the extra inches he used to tower over her, but she had found the power of a small frame, this regeneration. Making him bring himself down to her level, fold himself smaller to accommodate her.

The hair, the hair needs a slight update, it can’t be what she regenerated into the last time, it has to match her recent haircut. Such a small thing, but she almost missed it.

She holds the idea of Clara Oswald in her mind, all the little details that make up her physical being, until she can feel her body acquiesce to her demand. Every cell will die and every cell will be replaced by an exact replica. Because she wills it to be so. Because she needs it to be so.

But the body is only half of it. The other half, the personality, well— she’s all over the place just now, and she scrambles for some sense of control, as the golden glow of regeneration spirals outwards from her hands, growing in intensity with each beat of her hearts.

Who is she? She’s never particularly had time for existential questions, but now it matters more than it ever has before. There are dozens of names in her mind, lifetimes of personalities, all muddled together now in this strange twilight between lives. Who is she? Who must she be, to save the Doctor?

She is Clara and Missy and Saxon and Yana.

She is the snake-eyed monstrosity and the one burnt beyond recognition, she is the wearer of disguises and puns and goatees.

She is Koschei, and she has been in love with him since before he took up the mantle of the Doctor.

She is a burning ball of anger and hate and loathing, she is the pounding of the drums, she is all the declarations of love that died on her tongue unspoken.

She is if you love me in any way, she is run you clever boy and remember, she is his duty of care, she is someone he can’t bear to lose.

She is his Impossible Girl, and she will dismantle the universe and rewrite time to get him back.

She is Time Lord and Human, she is Clara and the Master.

She is the Doctor’s best friend, his oldest enemy.

She is the one who loves him,

loves him

  loves him

    loves him.

It is the one truth that has sustained through all her lives, through all her schemes and misdeeds, through every dark day and every ecstatic moment of joy.

She loves him, and it is the most powerful force the universe has ever known.

That is the thought she holds tight in her hearts, as the golden energy rips through her, replacing every cell in her body and changing nothing.

--

With a gasp she comes back to herself, greeted by the smell of wildflowers and the sound of the TARDIS’s Cloister Bell.

The field, and regeneration, and—

She examines her hands, then uses their familiar size and shape to push herself up to a sitting position. The question that had so occupied her final moment before regeneration has found its answer, reverberating in her chest in time to her twin heartbeat.

She is Clara Oswald and she is the Master.

She was born to save the Doctor.

And she is never, ever going to stop.

[screadingchallenge]

Behind the Keyboard: Volume 4

Behind the Keyboard is a series of interviews with different Schitt’s Creek fanfic authors. The series will last as long as there is interest (from authors) and capacity (from me). If you are an author from the Schitt’s Creek fandom who would like to participate, send a DM to this account.  

Each author was given ten questions. The first five questions are the same for every author, the last five will vary.

Remember, this year’s Reading Challenge begins July 15, so polish up those MFL lists.

Let’s meet our next author:

@blackandwhiteandrose​

How many fics have you written? 

As of the current moment I have 85 fics posted on A03 (and one that’s finished and  waiting for me to figure out a title). The actual number of fics I’ve written over the years would be considerably higher, though.

When did you publish your first fic on AO3? 

April 6, 2020

Describe your writing process from “Oh, I have an idea” to pushing publish on AO3.  

Saying that I have a process is giving a whole lot of credit I do not deserve. LOL Generally it goes something like: * get an idea (could be a title, dialogue, or a scene)

* take like, three sentences worth of notes * just start typing * ask my CFOs (chief flailing officials) to take a look and see if it makes any sense/is worth continuing * repeat as necessary until I feel like it’s finished * get the beta eyeballs (and thank them profusely) * post and hope for the best

Tell me about your most recent fic? What do you love about it? Is there anything you think you could have done better?  

Despite being a totally not sportsy person, I love sports AUs so I was very excited to try writing one. I’m really happy with how breakaway came together and let me do a different version of Hockey!Patrick.

(I also just think it’s fun to have friends who are willing to entertain all your dumb questions about a subject you’re clueless on and will help you get it right.)

If I were to have done anything differently/better it would have absolutely been an epic, multi-chapter fic that covered their whole relationship. Unfortunately, that’s not how my brain works, but maybe there will be a prequel one day. What advice would you give to someone who’s thinking about publishing their fic for the first time?

Very honestly, I’d say “just do it”. You really never know if something is going to hit or not, but I think it’s better to try something and toss it out there and hope a few people like it than just wanting to do it and never going for it. But, very seriously, before you hit post, have someone else look it over. Ask someone who will be honest with you and tell you things like “this sentence is unnecessary” or “I have no idea what this means” or “I don’t think you understand how commas work” (all comments I have received!), etc. As writers, we know what we’re trying to say, but someone who isn’t in your head is a very, very valuable resource when it comes to reading. The best idea in the world won’t get the attention it deserves if it’s hard to read.

What’s one thing that you’d like to say to your favorite Schitt’s Creek character? 

I’d love to be able to talk to Season One David or just-moved-to-Schitt’s Creek Patrick and say the same thing to either of them, “Just wait. You have NO idea what’s coming.”

When did you start writing? 

I remember reading a story I’d written aloud in 4th grade, so at least since I was 10. But I wrote my first fanfic in 1999.

What is the favorite scene you’ve ever written?

There are several very strong contenders for this one, but I think I can narrow it down to two:

Patrick & Nico at Rose Apothecary in Where He Is Now or David listening to Robert talk to Helen in beloved - it was the first time I’d made myself ugly cry while writing.

Are you interested in writing original fiction? 

Yes and no. I have long dreamed about it, but at this point I’m not sure it’s something I would/will actively pursue. Do you write for any other fandoms? Which ones? 

I do, I also write for 9-1-1.

[olderthannetfic]

Do you use a story structure? If so, which one?

--

I... what?

You mean like setting out to write The Hero's Journey or something?

I'm supposed to be finishing a draft by Monday, and I spent all morning writing, so I am desperate to procrastinate and do literally anything other than write my draft by now, of course, so I will happily blather about my process. Haha.

Since I was little, I've read a ton of books that are very structure-focused, mystery in particular. Romance tends to have a canned structure, but mystery makes it even more obvious, especially if you read a lot in the same subgenre like Golden Age cozies.

I don't know if my brain was always like this or if a steady diet of Nancy Drew and then harder books made me like this, but I have a very instinctive grasp of structure. I'm on the extreme end of planner rather than pantser, so I outline everything to death, but my plotbunnies also come to me with a fair amount of workable plot already included.

Googling gets me a bunch of how-to articles, so I guess I do understand what you're asking, but when I hear the words 'story structure', I think of a descriptive framework applied after the fact. I look at structure while trying to analyze a work I want to imitate or when revising a story that isn't working well enough.

I do dimly recall trying to structure an outline according to some writing advice books years ago, and I did look at things like Three Act Structure at the time. I remember finding it awkward. Even the examples these books give where they wedge a famous movie into the structure usually confuse me. Why is X the end of act 2 rather than the beginning of act 3? It often feels arbitrary and subjective.

When I outline, I do often think things like "This is Agatha Christie pastiche, so it needs 2 red herring murderers before the real one is revealed". And then I go find 2 big red herrings.

That eunuch porn fic I was talking about the other day came to me as a plotbunny for the first chapter: Tang Fan has been captured by villains and is unsure if Wang Zhi is evil or not. Wang Zhi lets him know he's not by quoting Tang Fan's most embarrassing writing back at him since there's no other way to communicate in front of the villains.

It was, of course, an image from Romancing the Stone where the hero asks what kind of sick mind came up with the trap they're in and the heroine has to admit that it's from her own novel. I wanted that dynamic with Tang Fan and his canon love interest Sui Zhou who doesn't know he writes trashy novels. (For those who haven't seen Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, this is an actual canon thing. Tang Fan does the women's voices while he's reading his trash romance aloud to himself too. Best show ever.)

I wanted other POVs, so I quickly realized I would probably want three chapters, one from each POV.

I also realized that the big point of the fic is who knows what when, so the internal structure of chapters is entirely things like Tang Fan anxiously trying to figure out whether Wang Zhi is evil and then the climax of that or Sui Zhou freaking out about what's been going on and then the resolution of it being Tang Fan's idea after all.

But I wasn't thinking in terms of three act structure or anything like that. I was thinking in terms of individual emotional arcs and rising tension, then some kind of catharsis or climax, then rising tension about something else, etc.

I do think about the building blocks of structure, like inciting incidents. I find those parts more useful than trying to follow a canned whole.

Oh! I did try the snowflake method once, and it's similar to how I naturally operate but I found that trying to do a specific method actually just cramped my style.

[ppangjae]

THE STORY UNTOLD | Jaehyun

SEVEN LETTERS | THE STORY UNTOLD

SUMMARY. Jaehyun finds himself catching feelings for you, his best friend. But the problem is that he’s in a relationship with someone else. In hopes of receiving a sign, the last sign he expects to receive is a letter. A letter from his future self. 

GENRE. soulmate!au | childhood friends to lovers!au | fluff | angst

WORD COUNT. 6.6k+ words

author’s note. BEFORE you read this, i strongly suggest you read Seven Letters. this is a sequel to that fic. if you haven’t read Seven Letters, you’re probably going to get really confused when you read this sequel. also, i just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who read Seven Letters. the amount of feedback i got is just so overwhelming and i never expected things to turn out like this omg. happy reading!

—Future

This is impossible.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

Johnny frowns. “Like that.”

Jaehyun lets out a scoff. Johnny lets out a soft snort, shaking his head at his best friend who’s sitting across from his desk. Johnny adjusts his glasses before clasping his hands on the table. “Do you not believe me or something?”

“This feels stupid. No, this is stupid.” Jaehyun mutters, gesturing at the blank piece of paper on the desk. “You want me to write a letter to my past self? About what?”

“You do know that I charge my patients an extra fifty bucks for every half hour past their scheduled appointment time.” Johnny reminds me. “If I were you, save your fifty bucks and start writing your letter.”

“Stop lying, you don’t do that.” Jaehyun scoffs again. “What is a stupid letter to my past self gonna do? Change my future?”

Johnny points at him. “Bingo.”

“And you expect me to believe you?”

“Why don’t you just try it? Besides, if it doesn’t change your future, at least you did yourself some self-counselling. Closure. Don’t you want closure?” Johnny folds his arms. He has a point. “As your best friend, I care about you. But I’m tired of having you come here for counselling sessions.”

“You’re not helping—”

“Just give a try! God, you make me want to pull my hair off my scalp and I’m already losing hair from all the stress you’ve been giving me since your divorce.”

—Present

“Jaehyun, you have mail!”

His mother is waving an envelope in the air just as he steps out on the front porch. He squints his eyes at the envelope with suspicion. “Who sends letters these days? We live in a world where technology is evolving—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just take your mail, Jaehyun.” His mother disregards his ramble by placing the envelope into his hands. “Your father wants us to make a trip to the grocery store. Do you want us to get you something?”

“I’m good,” he replies. He’s too busy staring at the familiar handwriting on the envelope. The strong familiarity bothers him. 

As his parents are hopping into the car and pulling out of the parkway, Jaehyun’s heading back inside of the house. He’s gently closing the door shut before making a beeline for the kitchen. He pulls out the kitchen scissors and cuts the envelope open.

“Why is this letter so thick?” He thinks aloud, pulling out a 10-page letter. “If this letter isn’t life changing and if I waste my time reading a thick ass letter, I might just combust—”

He stops mid-sentence when he finally realizes it. It’s his handwriting. He’s confused. Why would he send himself a letter? In fact, why would he send himself a 10-page letter when he can literally just type it all out in an email instead? He tilts his head in confusion. He decides to start reading it. 

To Jaehyun,

Don’t be alarmed. You recognize the handwriting, right? It’s because it is your handwriting. 

I am you from the future. 

You’re probably wondering how and why you’re getting this letter. Trust me, I’m not even sure if you’ll get this letter. But if you do, then damn, what the flipping fuck? 

Read this letter carefully because it will be a lot to take in. 

He lets out a laugh. Is he going crazy? Him from the future? Sending him a handwritten letter? For what? What kind of sick joke is this and who is pulling it? Who is the culprit? Oh right, it’s him from the future. 

I made the biggest mistake and I need you to fix it. 

Do you remember Y/N, your childhood best friend? Y/N is your soulmate. You are destined to be with her. As I write this letter to you, I have lost almost all forms of communication with Y/N. 

I made the biggest mistake of falling in love with someone else. I fell in love with someone who I am not destined to be with. I married this person and have been married to her for three years. We had just filed for a divorce a month ago. 

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. His future self must have fucked up that bad that he resorted into writing a letter to his past self. But why? 

I don’t want you to experience what I went through, past Jaehyun. I don’t want you to lose Y/N. I’m sure you don’t want to lose Y/N either. Y/N is everything you could ever want. 

He’s almost done reading the first page of the letter before carelessly shoving the letter back into its envelope. He’s rushing out the door with his car keys. He’s literally running out the door in nothing but a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and his infamous pink house slippers. There’s only one thing on his mind right now.

Here are three things I need you to remember:

The moment you realize you’re in love with Y/N, you must tell her before it’s too late. 

Y/N will be moving out when you get this letter. Y/N will be moving into another city and won’t tell you. 

Y/N’s going to board the train at 4pm. You must get to her before then if you plan on confessing to her. 

It’s funny how all it takes is one sketchy letter from what claims to be his future self to make him realize the truth; he’s in love with you.

Those feelings you have for Y/N? Yes, they are true and sincere. Y/N has been in love with you for the longest time. It was my biggest mistake of thinking it was a joke and letting her become the one that got away. 

—Future

Jaehyun puts his pen down onto the table and picks up his cup of coffee. He can already imagine his past self cussing him out for making the letter too long. But he made sure that he stated the most important points on the first page of the letter. 

There are many things that he regrets doing. He hopes that his past self will make things right.

“Where are you, Y/N?” He thinks out loud as he looks out the window. 

It’s the first snowfall of the winter season. There are couples scattered down the sidewalks, enjoying and taking advantage of this romantic day. He can’t help but remember the first snowfall that changed the way he saw you. He remembers it like it was just yesterday.

He picks up his pen and continues to write his letter.

If you get to Y/N on time, tell her that you love her. I wish I told her.

I regret not telling her.

You’re probably wondering why the fuck is this letter so long? But trust the process. I’ll tell you all of the things I regret doing in this letter because it’s the only way to give myself closure. 

I caught feelings for Y/N on the night of Christmas Eve. In fact, I was probably already in love with her before that. But on the night of Christmas Eve, that’s when I realized that I was in love with her and that she wasn’t just a best friend.

He sucks in a deep breath and places the pen back down onto the table. He shuts his eyes and remembers that night.

“Y/N!” 

You’re standing right in front of him, snowflakes slowly falling from the sky and landing on the top of your head. He feels warm with his thick scarf wrapped around his neck, but your presence makes him feel much more warmer; like home.

“Jaehyun!” 

You finally spot him when you hear his voice. He feels overjoyed. He feels like he’s floating among the stars that scatter across the sky. This is the first time he’s felt this way in weeks. Heck, probably months.

He stops to look up at the sky. “It’s snowing!”

“The first snowfall of the season.” You add, letting out a soft giggle. “Long time no see, dork.”

He remembers looking at you in awe. Your hair had grown longer and you had matured. The snowflakes that fall from the sky make you stand out more. You’re smiling at him so wide that your eyes form into beautiful crescents. He remembers feeling his heart stop. He remembers wondering why he always felt this way whenever he was with you.

“Do you know what the first snowfall of the season means?”

“First snowfall means first love. It also means that the person you’re with on the first snowfall of the season will be the love of your life.”

“Do you believe in it?” You let out a lighthearted chuckle. “If you do, then that means I’m the love of your life.”

“Why? Are you in love with me or something?” He chuckles as he makes the joke.

He swore he saw your smile falter. He swore he saw you look taken aback. He swore he saw you look serious for a split second before mustering up a fake smile and saying—

“Me? In love with you? No, you’re my best friend!” 

“You’re joking. Stop joking around, Y/N. Are you in love with me?” He asks for reassurance.

You shake your head. He swore he felt his heart shatter. He swore he felt disappointed. He swore he felt heartbroken hearing you tell him that you weren’t in love with him.

Because he’s in love with you.

He’s caught feelings for you.

“I see you as my best friend, Jaehyun. Nothing more and nothing less.”

But who would’ve thought that it would be a lie?

—Present

He hopes he’s not too late. He hopes he’s not too late. He hopes he’s not too late—

If you get to Y/N on time, tell her that you love her. I wish I told her.

I regret not telling her.

Don’t be a hopeless fool like me.

You’ll regret it. Ever since I married someone else, all I’ve ever done was reminisce and regret.

I hope you get to her on time. You must get to her on time. Or else you’ll be a little too late… again.

She’ll be waiting. In fact, all she’s done was wait for the perfect time and moment.

“Y/N!”

He spots you sitting on the waiting bench. You’re holding what seems like a letter. You’re shoving the letter into your pocket. He starts jogging up to you after running across the entire parking lot. He even bought himself a train ticket just to get inside the station to find you. 

And he’s glad he did.

“Jaehyun?”

He’s rushing over to you. He watches you stand up to greet him until he crashes you into a tight embrace. He shifts all of his weight on you as you stand there, completely caught off guard. “Jaehyun, what are you doing here?”

He pulls away from the hug. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? What are you doing here?”

You look up at him with a confused look. “I—I got hired at a company out of town. I moved out. I’m moving into an apartment in another city—”

The letter from his future self was right. You’re moving out of town for your job. You’re moving out and you didn’t tell him. The letter was right. What kind of magic is this? 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowns.

“I figured it would be best not to tell you because I knew that you would hold me back. And if you held me back, I don’t think I’d ever move out.”

“But you should’ve told me. I came over to take you out for lunch only to find out that you’re moving out of town and into a new city. Do you know how sad I felt?”

“I’m sorry—”

“And then I started wondering why you didn’t tell me about this. I started to wonder if I did something wrong. I couldn’t think straight. I drove all the way here in hopes that I don’t miss you and that I catch you right before you ride.” He finds himself rambling. “If I didn’t catch you on time, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“Jaehyun—”

Before you go to the train station, I want you to break up with Yeona— “I broke up with Yeona.”

Y/N will probably get mad at you for it. “What?! Why would you do that?!”

He looks at you for a brief moment. You are mad. A laugh of disbelief threatens to escape his lips. 

“Why did you break up with her? She’s in love with you, Jaehyun! You’re supposed to propose to her—”

Tell her that you’re in love with her. Because you are. I was a stupid fool for not believing that my feelings for her were true and real. Don’t be like me. 

“Because I’m in love with you.”

“Huh?”

“I’m in love with you.” He lets out a nervous laugh as he repeats it for you.

When you tell her that you’re in love with her, it’ll be the most simplest thing to do. When it comes out of your mouth, it will sound right. It will sound like you’re meant to tell her that you’re in love with her, because you are.

“You’re in love with me?”

His future self is right. He’s completely surprised at how perfect and easy it felt to tell you his feelings for you. It was like he was destined to tell you. Loving you sure is easy.

“I’m in love with you, stupid.”

You blink up at him. “Jaehyun, you’re not making any sense right now. It was just weeks ago when you asked me if I should ask Yeona to marry you. It was just weeks ago when you told me that you missed her a lot. It was just weeks ago when you thought my confession was a joke—”

I want you to tell her that you’ve been in love with her since the night of Christmas Eve.

“On Christmas Eve, I picked you up. Yeona and I were going through a rough time in our relationship and I was starting to question if we were meant to be together. I asked and begged for a sign.”

“A sign?”

“The first snowfall. You and I were together on the night of Christmas Eve, where we both witnessed the first snowfall. You asked me if I knew what it meant,” he explains. “I thought ‘Is this the sign I’ve been looking for?’ and then I joked around asking if you were in love with me, not expecting you to say yes. And you did. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Jaehyun—”

“And that summer where you didn’t come up to the cottage. I felt lonely even though I was with Yeona. Things just didn’t feel the same.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “Everything started to remind me of you. I just knew Yeona was annoyed about it. I kept talking about how this and that reminded me of you. It was all starting to make sense.”

“But you still had thoughts about asking her to marry you.” You say and he shakes his head.

If she tries to test you by saying that you were contemplating on proposing to Yeona, I want you to say this— “I asked you for your opinion on it because I couldn’t trust my own decision. I wanted to see if you would say no. A part of me was begging you to say no.” He tells you the truth. He really was hoping you to say no. “But you told me that you love me and that your confession wasn’t a joke. That’s when I knew.”

“So,” you mumble. “You’re in love with me?”

“I confessed my feelings for you three times already.”

“But I want to hear it again—”

“The train is arriving in two minutes. The train is arriving in two minutes.” The speaker announces. The two of you look at each other.”

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.” He confesses again. He can say it as many times as he wants, and it will still feel true and it will still be sincere. “But do you really have to leave me here?”

“I’m in love with you too, Jaehyun.” No matter how many times you’ve already told him that, it always feels like it’s his first time hearing it. He can hear it over and over again and he will still feel like the only man in the entire universe. “And yes, I have to go, Jaehyun. I can’t keep taking the train everyday to work.”

“Can I move in with you, then?”

“Not until you give me a kiss first—”

“How about I marry you instead?”

If you both end up together, which I know you will, 

I will finally get the closure that I needed.

—Future

He looks up from his phone to stare up at a building. He looks back down at his phone to make sure that he’s at the right address. As he confirms the address, he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“Y/N?”

He spots a familiar figure exiting the building of the company that you work at. The figure is walking away and down the sidewalk. He finds himself following the familiar person, trying to catch up to them. Once he finally does, he taps on their shoulder. They turn around and it’s not you.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else.” He apologizes.

“Oh!” The woman exclaims. “You’re Jeong Jaehyun, right?”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “You know who I am?”

She nods her head. “You’re Y/N’s best friend, right?”

That’s odd. How does she know who he is— “Yes. Do you know her?”

She smiles. “I’m sure you’ve known of me. We were roommates in college. Do you happen to remember that infamous cookie recipe—”

“Holy shit.” That’s all he utters out. “Those cookies are fucking delicious but—how—you guys work together?”

“I see her on the daily and we’re kind of tired of seeing each other. Honestly, we both thought we’d never see each other again after university. But here we are,” she chuckles, extending her hand out. “I’m Sunghwa, by the way.”

He shakes her hand. “Nice meeting you.”

She tilts her head. “Are you looking for her?”

He slowly nods his head. “Well, actually, we left on really bad terms—”

“I know. I kind of hate you for that.” She cuts him off while shrugging her shoulders. “But what can we do, right? Unless you have the power to change the past, there’s not much we can do. But I do believe in fixing things for the future.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Save that for Y/N.” She smiles. “Y/N took two days off from work. She’s probably in her apartment getting some rest. The company had just finished its merge with another company and ever since then, she hasn’t gotten any rest.”

“Do you know where she lives?” He asks.

“I do. I’ll give you her address,” she replies. “But promise me one thing.”

“I’ll do anything—”

“Don’t tell her that I gave you her address. She’ll kill me.”

“You’re already wilting? I just got you yesterday!”

You stare at the vase of roses sitting on your dining table. There are a couple of petals that have fallen off and a few of them have wilted. You frown, taking a few of them, along with the petals, to dry them and add them to your letters.

Sitting on one end of your dining table is your last letter to your past self. You glance at it. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, diverting your thoughts from the letter. “Hello?”

“How are you, honey?” You hear your mother’s soothing voice on the other line. “Have you run out of groceries? Is your fridge full? I hope it is. If anything, your father and I can drop by the grocery store before visiting you on Friday—”

“You don’t need to, mother.” You chuckle. “I just came home from the grocery store. Hey, do you know how to stop flowers from wilting so fast?”

You can hear her frown. “Have the roses wilted already?”

“Yeah, and I just got them yesterday.” You sigh. “It’s okay. I’ll just make another stop by the flower shop to get a new bouquet.”

“Have you been eating your meals?”

You smile. “Yes, mother. In fact, I’m going to be meeting someone tonight.”

“Is it a boy?” 

You snort. “No.”

“Do I know them?”

“I’m meeting Yeona tonight.” You say softly. “We’re going to have dinner at a restaurant that opened up down the road. I’m not sure how it’ll go but—”

“Are you sure you want to go? You don’t have to meet her if you don’t want to.” She cuts you off. 

You purse your lips into a tight line. “I asked her if we could meet. I’m surprised she said yes, to be honest.”

“You know, when your father and I heard the news about their divorce, we weren’t sure how to react.” Your mother begins. “But Jaehyun’s parents didn’t seem to mind. In fact, when we paid them a visit, they seemed more… relieved?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Relieved?”

“It was like a weight was lifted off their shoulders.” Your mother explains. “Ever since they got married, there was never a peaceful day between the two.”

You frown. “Ah, I see.”

She notices your sudden quietness. “Are you perhaps… still in love with Jaehyun?”

You let out a lighthearted chuckle. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

“You know, you should try to get in touch with Jaehyun, sweetheart. You’re his only best friend. I’m sure whatever tension you have between the two of you would go away the moment you see each other.”

You sigh. “It’s easy to say but hard to do, mother.”

“I know, I understand.” She says softly. “Have you sent out your letters?”

You laugh, looking at your last letter sitting on your dining table.

“I’m actually sending out my last one on my way out.”

—Present

He runs his fingers through your hair as you’re sleeping peacefully next to him. You had a rough day at work and the moment you came home, you knocked out on the bed. Jaehyun took this opportunity to finish reading the letter he received from his future self.

I’m sure you’re wondering what happened between Y/N and I. Now, sit tight because this will be a long one.

On July 31st, I asked Y/N to go to the beach. I asked her because I knew that Yeona would be going to the beach that day. I figured it was a great opportunity to try and make Yeona jealous, and maybe get to know her more. And we did. 

But something felt off.

I remember Y/N asking me if we could go to the town fair instead. The town fair was only open for a week. But I was persistent on going to the beach instead. I wish we went to the town fair instead. 

Ever since I lost contact with Y/N and ever since she moved out of town, she stopped going up to the cottage for the summer. Those summers have been lonely. Whenever I go up to the cottage for the summer, the town fair would immediately remind me of her and how much I regret not taking her to the fair instead. 

Jaehyun’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He looks at his phone to check the new text notification, only to take notice of his phone’s lock screen. It’s a picture he took of you when the both of you rode the Ferris Wheel. 

“Y/N—” 

“Yeah?” He takes a quick candid photo of you.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Yes, I did. I think it’ll be a good picture to use for your Tinder or something. I’ll send it to you.”

“Why, you little—”

“Sent it!”

He looks up from his phone to see you looking down at yours. You’re busy muttering underneath your breath over how he took the worst angle of your face. A smile threatens to form across his lips. He sets it as his lock screen.

On August 14th, Yeona and her parents came over for dinner. I was so in love with Yeona that I decided to tell her the truth. I told her that Y/N and I weren’t dating and it was all just an act. At the time, I was so happy to see the look of relief of Yeona’s face. That night, she confessed to me. She told me that she was in love with me and that she’s glad that Y/N and I weren’t dating.

But believe me when I say this, her confession didn’t feel special. I remember feeling shocked. I remember wondering, is this how I’m supposed to feel when someone reciprocates your feelings? I remember asking myself, shouldn’t I feel happy right now?

But my thoughts were interrupted when Yeona pulled me in for a kiss. I was surprised. I was caught off guard. Y/N suddenly walked out on the porch and saw us kissing. 

That night, I officially asked Yeona out. But on that same night, I remember walking past Y/N’s room to hear her crying.

I felt horrible. I felt bad. 

On Christmas Eve, Y/N’s arrival time was delayed by an hour. I remember being so excited to see her after months of talking to each other through a laptop screen. I remember being so excited that the moment her father announced that Y/N would be arriving late, I insisted on picking her up instead.

I’m glad I did.

Around that time, Yeona and I were going through a tough time in our relationship. It seemed like she was falling out of love with me. She was posting more photos of her and her guy friend on her account. Our video calls were becoming less frequent. Our good morning and good night texts were becoming less frequent. I really thought that this was it, this was the end of it all. 

I was slowly catching feelings for Y/N. I think her absence really got to me. When Yeona and I passed on our usual video calls, I’d call Y/N instead and we’d talk for hours on end. She would even have a midterm the following day but still made the effort to talk to me. I was finding myself texting my usual good morning and good night texts to Y/N instead of Yeona. But now that I think about it, I think I’ve always been in love with Y/N.

I was just too stupid to realize it. 

I asked and begged for a sign. I was too blinded by love and I wanted a sign to tell me that being with Yeona was right. That fighting for our relationship was the right thing to do. That trying to mend our already broken relationship was the right thing to do.

When I picked Y/N up at the train station, it was the first snowfall of the season. We made a couple of jokes about the first snowfall that somehow led to me asking her if she was in love with me. She said she wasn’t in love with me. She continued to joke around.

I wondered, is this the sign I was looking for? I remember thinking, if this was the sign, then it’s pretty disappointing.

Because a part of me was hoping Y/N would say that she was in love with me.

—Future

“You came?”

Yeona came earlier than you. She’s sitting at the booth, greeting you as you take the seat right across from her. This feels awkward, you think to yourself as you take off your coat. Right on time, a waitress comes by your table to give you two glasses of wine.

“I hope I’m not late.” You say with a lighthearted chuckle.

She smiles. “I’m just a bit too early.”

“How are you?” You ask.

She takes a sip of her wine. “I’ve been doing better. How have you been?”

You smile. “Likewise.”

As the both of you are picking dishes to eat from the menu, you can feel her look at you every now and then. You’re not sure why she’s staring at you, but you pay no attention to it. As the waitress collects the menus and your orders, she leaves the two of you to talk.

“When you called me to ask if we could meet, I was quite surprised.” She chuckles. “I figured that I’d be the last person you’d want to see.”

You bite your lip. “To be honest with you, I’m surprised you came. I was sort of expecting you to bail out on me.”

The both of you share a chuckle. She looks out the window. It’s snowing. “Have you seen Jaehyun?”

You shake your head. “I haven’t gotten in touch with him for years. Ever since your wedding, actually.”

She tears her gaze away from the window, specifically from the snowflakes that fall from the sky. She looks at you, surprised. “Why not?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I guess I was just too busy with work. I mean, I still am, but—”

“You should, Y/N.” She places her hand on top of yours. 

You stare at her hand that’s on top of yours. There’s no longer a wedding ring on her fourth finger. It kind of throws you off. “I don’t think he’ll want to see me. I bet you didn’t even want to see me either—”

“When Jaehyun and I got divorced, I felt like I was finally setting him free.” She confesses. “I felt like something or someone was holding him back. I knew it was always you, Y/N.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Yeona. Jaehyun’s not in love with me—”

“First snowfall means first love. It means that the person you’re with on the first snowfall of the season will be the love of your life.” She cuts you off. You look at her with slightly widened eyes. “That’s what Jaehyun told me. He also told me that the first snowfall always reminds him of you.”

“Yeona, I’m not sure what to say.” You say with a breathy laugh.

“You didn’t attend our wedding.” She mumbles. “Jaehyun was looking for you the entire night. Even when reception was over, he was still looking for you. Let me remind you that I was the one he got married to. It felt weird, it felt heartbreaking, because although his bride was standing right beside him, he was still looking and waiting for someone else.”

“I didn’t attend your wedding because—”

“Because you’re in love with him.” She finishes it for you. “Y/N, I’m not stupid. I can see it with my own two eyes. You’re in love with him and he’s in love with you.”

“Shouldn’t you be mad at me?” You ask.

She shakes her head. “I wish I could be mad at you, but I’m not. Our divorce was mutual. We filed a divorce because I knew Jaehyun was in love with you, and he still is. But we also filed a divorce because I was slowly falling out of love with him and falling in love with someone else.”

“But I feel like this was all because of me—”

She smiles. “Don’t feel bad. If there’s someone who should feel bad, it should be me. I’ve been selfishly holding Jaehyun back for so long, for three years, from someone he should be with.”

You wipe away tears that have managed to stream down your cheeks. “I—”

“Can I ask you one favour?”

The waitress arrives with your dishes and places them onto the table. As the waitress leaves the two of you again, she reaches out to hold your hands.

You nod. “Sure.”

“Please get in touch with Jaehyun. I’m sure he’s looking for you.”

—Present

Jaehyun calls it a night, placing the letter back into its envelope before putting it back in a drawer. He turns off the night light and settles in bed, wrapping his arm around your waist. You snuggle closer to his chest, continuing to let out soft snores. Jaehyun smiles, using his other free hand to tuck a few stray strands of hair away from your face.

“Good night, Y/N.”

On August 8th, Y/N and I had a conversation at the bonfire. I wanted to test the waters again for the second time. I was so confused. My mind was in love with Yeona but my heart belonged to Y/N. I asked her if I should propose to Yeona.

She looked at me and asked me if I love her. I said that I love her. But she asked me if I love her with all my heart. It took me a while to answer, but eventually, I said that I love her with all of my heart.

Y/N simply smiled at me with a smile that didn’t look real. 

She said, if I love Yeona with all of my heart, then what was I waiting for?

I remember my heart answering her question with,

I’m waiting for you to stop me.

—Future

“Thanks for the ride, Yeona.”

She smiles. “No worries. Text me when you get home safely!”

And off Yeona goes. You watch her car get smaller and smaller as it grows farther. You let out a happy sigh, stepping inside of your apartment complex. You make a quick stop at the mailbox, placing your last letter to your past self into the slit. As you hop onto the elevator, you find yourself thinking back to your conversation with Yeona. 

Just as you step out of your elevator, you stop in your tracks. 

“Please get in touch with Jaehyun. I’m sure he’s looking for you.”

Sitting right in front of the door to your apartment is Jaehyun. He’s looking down at his phone. The closer you get to him, the more you realize that he’s playing a game on his phone. A smile threatens to spread across your lips.

“Excuse me, sir, but I think you’ve got the wrong apartment.”

Jaehyun recognizes the voice and his head shoots up. At first, he doesn’t recognize your face. You had definitely matured. You look like a grown woman. Your hair is long. He looks up at you in awe until he realizes how stupid he looks. He’s immediately getting up onto his two feet, but you stop him when you take a seat next to him on the carpet floor. 

“Y/N,” he breathes out. “Hi.”

You smile. “Hi.”

“I—Long time no see.” He stutters, scratching the back of his neck.

“How did you get my address?”

“Well, I got it from—”

“You got it from Sunghwa, didn’t you?” You cut him off with squinted eyes. He gulps nervously, nodding his head. You sigh. “God, I’m going to kill her for this.”

The both of you look at each other before bursting out into laughter. 

He bites his lip. “How—How have you been?”

You fold your arms. “I think I should be asking you that, Mr. Just Got Divorced.”

He chuckles. “I’ve been doing better. Actually, I think I’ll do even better now that I’ve seen you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.” He sighs. He feels hesitant to ask you a question he’s been dying to ask you. He decides to take a leap of faith. “Have you been seeing someone lately?”

You shake your head. “No. Why? Should I be seeing someone—”

“No.” He cuts you off. You glance at him with a look of suspicion. He feels nervous again. “Well—that’s not what I meant! What I meant was—”

“What are you doing here?” You ask him with a soft voice. You’re looking at him seriously. “Why did you want to see me, Jaehyun?”

“Because there are many things I want to tell you.” He mumbles.

“And what are those things you want to tell me?”

He swears he feels his heart is on fire. He avoids your gaze. “I’m in love with you.”

It feels nice to hear him say it. It’s like time has slowed down and it’s just the two of you in the universe. When you don’t reply, he courageously looks at you to get some sort of answer from your eyes.

You smile. “I know.”

“You know?”

You hum in reply. “I know that you’re in love with me.”

“But are you in love with me?” He whispers. “I mean, it’s fine if you’re not. I just figured that it would be best for me to let you know that I’m in love with you. All I want is closure and a piece of mind knowing that you know that I’m in love with you.”

“You’re rambling agan, Jaehyun.” You chuckle. You look away from him. “What if I’m in love with you?”

“Are you?”

You let out a sigh. “God, I’m so in love with you, Jaehyun. I’m still in love with you.”

“Huh?”

“I’m in love with you.” You repeat yourself.

“You’re in love with me?”

“I’m in love with you, stupid.”

He doesn’t say anything that it makes you start to worry. You look at him, only to find him looking at you. You really want to kiss him. But you’ll probably have to save that for later.

“So,” he mumbles. “You’re in love with me?”

“I told you like three times already in the span of two minutes, Jaehyun.”

“But I want to hear it again—”

“I’m in love with you, Jaehyun.” You repeat it one last time for him. “But do we really have to be sitting on the floor like this in front of my apartment? When we could literally be chilling inside?”

“I’m in love with you too.” He whispers. “And no, we can definitely go inside. If you’re okay with me being in your apartment, of course.”

“Or, you can move in with me. Do you want to move in with me?”

“Not until you give me a kiss first—”

“How about you ask me to marry you instead?”

“Would you say yes, though?”

You laugh.

“Yes.”

“Babe, I’m going to make a quick stop downstairs! I just need to mail something.”

Jaehyun sees you give him two thumbs up. He’s hopping into the elevator to lead him down to the lower floor. He steps out of the apartment and reaches the mailbox. He seals the envelope before placing his letter to his past self through the slit.

He dusts his hands off. “I hope you get there safely.”

—Present

“Babe, have you seen an envelope?”

You step out of the washroom to find Jaehyun rummaging through the drawers. “An envelope? No, why?”

“I swear I placed it in this drawer last night, but now it’s gone.” He frowns, checking all the drawers one last time before sighing with defeat. 

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. It’s probably his letters, you think to yourself. “I think I might know where it went.”

“Really?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah, I’ll look for it. You should go take a shower before you run late for work.”

As he steps out of the bedroom to take a shower, you open your closet to pull out a box where you’ve put all of your letters in. You can hear the shower turn on as you close the closet door shut. You take a seat on the bed, opening the box—

“What the fuck?” You blurt out.

You’re pulling out the letters, one by one, but as you take them out, they all start to disappear into thin air. One by one, they start crumbling up into thin dust, disappearing in your fingertips.

And what was once a box filled with letters from your future self is now, empty.

And just like the letters that have disappeared as if they’ve never happened, the future has been successfully rewritten.

author’s note. thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this short sequel to seven letters lmao. kjsdhfjkshdf 

[bananakarenina]

Fanfic writer ask!

For Love's Sake Only: 3, 4, 9

Leave the Light On: 11, 12

for love's sake only

oh god this is going to be so hard, there are so many words to choose from

3. What is your favorite line of narration?

ajdkl;jasf;ld obviously this answer (and my answer to number 4) is me picking one of many many favorites because i love all of it?? but really it's this:

She takes a deep breath, letting the river breeze wash over her, lift the curls that have escaped their pins and set them gently back down again. It feels like a caress, like Luke is there, helping her find the words.

i just. i will love that line forever, the end.

4. What is your favorite line of dialogue?

it is too hard to choose bethany it is too hard!!! i went back to this exchange from chapter 3, because it's such a lovely story that ray tells, how love blooms in the most unexpected ways ;;_;;

“I didn’t say anything, of course. She was the daughter of a duke, and I was a portrait artist. It could never be. So I pushed the feelings aside and finished the portrait. And when I unveiled it—that was the first time I ever saw her completely still. I still remember, she fell silent and I thought she hated it. But then—” Ray pauses, and Reggie sees that the Marquess has tears brimming in his eyes. “Then she reached out a hand and touched the curve of her own face that I painted. Her voice went very quiet, and she said—and I will never forget this—she said ‘I have never seen myself like this. Is this how you see me, Mr. Molina?’ And there was this note of hope in her voice, like she wanted the answer to be yes so badly.” “What did you say to her?” Reggie says, completely spellbound. “Do you know, I don’t even remember, because that is when she kissed me.” “She kissed you?!” Reggie exclaims, now on the edge of the velvet armchair seat, and Ray is smiling fully now.

“She did indeed. It turns out the whole time I was looking at her, I never realized: she was looking back.”

i also love the exchange between jane & julie in chapter 10; i remember reading it aloud a few times in what i heard as jane's accent and julie's, just so i got the rhythm and cadence i wanted

honorable mention goes to "i love you." / "i know." aka me slipping star wars into my historical romance, you're welcome reg

9. Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

hmmm at one point early early in the process reggie's mom was involved, like gossiping about how eligible julie was, but it didn't really fit. and then i killed her off, sorry first lady peters, because reggie not wanting to carry on the legacy of his parents became more important.

more complexly: jay (@where-you-go) and i were chatting about flso once (as we do) and she was like: what if julie didn't have reggie to save her from that match? what if the boys weren't gentry, but the musicians they are in their souls? like traveling bards/musicians who were hired to play at a party or whatever at the duke of covington's sprawling estate. and they meet the duchess covington, who is a ghost of a woman, sad, trapped, psychologically broken down. and they win her over, they make her smile for the first time in months, and over the course of a few days she realizes: she can't stay. she has to run, and she wants to be with them. and willie is also there, with his own psychological damage from being caleb's ward, and at first he and julie are suspicious of each other, in that household where no one can trust anyone, but then of course alex happens, and willie is a good person so he helps and runs away with them too.

from discord:

she knows how covington--how society operatesit seems futile to even try, at first but that first rehearsal, where she hears their music and something she thought was long-dead flares to life inside her and then she hears them laughing in the garden and is struck by a longing so fierce she almost sits down right on the grass she's longing for those handsome young men, sure, but she's also longing to laugh again

never trust jay and i in the same room together, we will inevitably make it incredibly sad, hahahahaha

leave the light on

11: What do you like best about this fic?

oh gosh. you know...i think that it's about Adulthood, in a way? like it's post-canon, it's canon compliant (technically lol) but: what happens to these characters we love when adulthood complicates things? like sometimes you find love in the midst of grief and you don't even notice. sometimes you fuck up big time. sometimes you feel like you're still 22 and stupid but you have crow's feet and gray hair poking through and fucking bills to pay and gosh, wouldn't it just be so nice if you could see dr. turner on the regular, except she's a pediatric psychologist julie, you're thirty years old.

yeah, i think that i like that it's very specifically about discovering thirty and beyond, and about second loves.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

i...genuinely don't know! i love this fic a lot, it means a lot to me. i think maybe that i subjected alex and willie to the crossing over, hahahahaha. but reggie had to be Totally Alone, you know? it doesn't work if it's just luke.

i think maaaaybe if i were reworking it (which i'm not, i love it the way it is) i might stretch the timeline out a bit? like have alex cross a bit later time-wise? stretch things out a bit? but i think it works either way

ilu bb thank you for the ask sorry for the novel lol

ask me things!

[hobipaint]

Graffiti and Chalk- two

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, fluff

↳ word count: 9.6K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of character deaths.

one | two

a/n: FINALLY AFTER A MONTH IT'S HERE! This took me really long to write but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out : it's my longest work yet, and I feel like it would be among my best as well hehe. a massive thank you to @kookiestarlight because i swear i completed this in the first place because of tasha, @swcetnight who pointed out exactly where I need to elaborate stuff and places in which I was loosing parts of the plot because did I forget the whole storyline while writing this 🤡, @vaekth because this bby is absolutely amazing. she's supported me throughout the process of writing this, thank you so much!! thank you to @taecup-fics for beta reading this at the last minute and pointing out a bunch of grammatical errors because otherwise this would be a mess to read 😭 to everyone who has waited - I'm so sorry that it came this late, I suddenly had a bunch of exams that were announced and had to focus on those. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations!! Enjoy reading :)

Morning often dawns with a feeling of hope. With wistful sights of sunrise. Flowers open up to the golden haze that thaws the frost of the night. Birds roam the skies that had been but mysterious domains in the dark. People wake up with groans about the impending day, hopeful for it to end soon. You hoped for your mornings to always be similar to this- some constants were needed in places where you had cases as bewildering as missing pumpkin plushies piling up in your office. 

Your morning today, though, was much different. Much to your annoyance. 

You held the coffee you had brewed for yourself - another espresso, the universe knows you needed it - and handed one to Taehyung just as the cuckoo perching on the clock shrilly announced that it was eight in the morning. 

"Do you still have no answers for me, Y/N?" Taehyung looked at you. His eyes were sullen - no signs of the cheekiness that had peeked at you last night. Scattered rays fell across his body, highlighting the sunken cheeks, brooding eyes and tight smiles you could now see better in the daylight. 

You sighed- probably for the millionth time this night. "I do not understand your question, Taehyung." 

"You remember it. I've asked you thrice since I saw you again, Y/N. Do you not remember anymore? Do you not care for me? Was our idea of us nothing for you?" He looked at you with a myriad of emotions written all over his face- you looked away, not wanting to see them. 

Sighing, you gathered your thoughts the best you could. "Like I said, Taehyung." You looked at him- looking at the person you once fell in love with. The feeling you felt today, though, was much different. There was a feeling of running towards him, taking him in your arms and remembering who he was to you all over again, but it was overwhelmed by the confusion you felt - should you prioritize a past that wanted answers, or a future that was unsure? For now, you chose none pushing the time to make that decision further ahead. "We were an 'us' for only a few hours. Until you stood me up."

He rolled his eyes."That wasn't intentional, Y/N." 

"And how was I supposed to know that, Taehyung? I thought it was, since you had never told me anything beforehand."

Taehyung's eyebrows bunched together, as if coming to hear the stories that his eyes longed to tell- stories of events that you had never seen and never known. "Would you not hear me out, even once? For the sake of our old love?"

You bristled. "What love, Taehyung?" You got up to stretch your legs out, looking at the patchwork blanket that was stuffed in the corner. You had taken that for your first date with Taehyung, planning to cuddle with him and watch the stars - a date that never happened. "What love? A love where you don't speak to me for weeks, and then vanish for some crime? We were young then, and I got hurt then as it is. There's no need to go over this right now." 

"That was not my fault, Y/N. You know that." Taehyung seemingly sunk back into his chair, eyes downcast. "I had said I loved you. Before I ever went out with you." 

"Like that matters,” you scoffed, “what's the point in reminiscing promises from an old love?"

"At least, hear me out?" He looked up at you with hope sprinkled in the abyss of his eyes. "I don't want you to forget me."

You turned back to your chair, tearing your eyes away from the blanket that was now a pale blue in the sunlight - a few shades lighter than the cerulean colour it would be in the afternoon. "Not now, Taehyung." 

Taehyung sighed, looking at the floor, tension exhaled into the room. He sat silently for a few seconds, the ticking clock announcing each moment clearly to you. "That's fair. It's just.." He looked back at you. "I'm used to thinking of you as the person I loved." He nervously let his eyes pan around the windows, gazing at the sunshine that streamed through the window, before turning back towards your gaze. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I'm just really grateful for your presence-" 

"Taehyung." You sharply interrupted him. "Two years ago, when your case was reopened for investigation. Who did that?" 

"They told me that it was a well wisher in the neighbourhood. Another jailor said it was for good behaviour." He shrugged. 

You scoffed aloud, more loudly than you would have liked him to hear. 

He frowned, lips drawn in a tight line in annoyance. "Don't believe me? I'll have you know, Y/N, I was among the most well behaved at prison. Absolutely no tantrums. I even ate the salt-less, disgusting food they'd give there. No crying. Nothing. I can show you later on if you want, I think I have a report stuffed somewhere here," He got up, shuffled towards his bag and checked the last zip, hunting for a report you had never heard of. 

"It was me." 

Taehyung whirled around to face you, unruly hair swinging like the seats of a carousel at a carnival, and raised an eyebrow. "What were you?" 

"I was the one who insisted on opening the case for reinvestigation, the case of your stepfather's assault. Went around collecting evidence, searching for people who knew about your family better, getting their voices recorded, finding about the whole deal to frame you and stuff. Nearly got fired." You shrugged, sipping your espresso and wincing- too bitter. "You're welcome, by the way. The coffee is getting cold." 

"I don't care about the coffee." He moved the cup aside - nearly spilling the liquid, roughly settling back into the seat he had been occupying for the last few hours. "You were the one who asked for re-opening the case?" 

"Just said that." 

He slumped back in his seat, and your eyes took in how he spread himself out on the chair, tiredness lacing his figure. "I didn't know that." 

"Now you do." You said, sipping your coffee and watching Taehyung do the same. 

Taehyung stared blankly at you, and you couldn't fathom what was swirling in those ebony orbs of his. "Why did you do that, Y/N?"

"Honestly," you smile softly at him, "I was expecting a thank you."

"You should have expected questions, Y/N. Why did you help me?" Taehyung's blank expression made way for a confused one, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting. 

"I did what I had to do as a-" You paused here, unsure of what to say. "As a friend, Taehyung, nothing more. I knew you were innocent-"

"How were you so assured?" He pressed on."I could be a complete 180 from the man I met you as. I could be fake. I could be an impostor. I could-"

"You could do a bunch of things, Taehyung." You stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep your emotions at bay. "But you could never tell a lie." 

Taehyung scoffed. "You sound like one of the wishy-washy pick-me kind of girls in the movie. No, I don't lie, but I could." 

You sighed. As much as you cared for Taehyung, you had never really cared for his argumentative attitude. "I went with the assumption that you were the same person I knew, Taehyung. The one whom I respected and trusted. I acted on that feeling." 

"That wasn't trust, Y/N. It was naivety. You were naive to believe me." Taehyung paused, uncertainty lining his forehead as he spoke. "You shouldn't have trusted me." 

You rolled your eyes- you couldn't understand why he was so desperate to make sure that you remained aloof from him. What had you done to be treated like that? What had he done to force everyone away from him? 

You tried to play off his remaining doubts and frustrations as insecurities he developed while in jail, and moved on."Alright then, you impostor. I was naive to trust you. And even more naive to believe you. Happy? Now shush. I don't want to talk about this." You tried to clear your mind of any doubts you had about Taehyung, but his behaviour, the way he interacted with you - it couldn't help but increase the worry and confusion in your mind.

Taehyung leaned forward to look you in the eye before smiling softly at you - you couldn't understand why. You were going to give him a criminal record, maybe arrest him. You were potentially ruining his life again, and he smiled at you. "If you say so, officer." Taehyung said, settling into the chair - leaving your mind reeling with questions you weren't sure you wanted the answers to. 

You opened the laptop again, wearily. "Let's get back to the questions; the sooner we finish this, the better. Where did you source the paint from?" 

"You mean the graffiti? And chalk?" You nodded. Taehyung sighed."Terminology, Officer, terminology. Make no errors." He raised a finger to wave at you, as if to say no. You rolled your eyes -it seemed that you were the only one concerned about what would happen to him after this, because Taehyung quite clearly was not. "I bought it with the allowance money that was kept for me in the bank- as much as I hated that man, his cards proved to be useful."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You didn't steal it." 

"No. Took it from my step-father's account. Technically, now mine. Apparently he left everything to his children, and I'm the only one alive that I know of. Maybe he had other children- I wouldn't doubt it for a moment if he had, but that doesn't change my right to his money either." 

"Any other members of your family who had been granted access to that account?" You asked, wanting to make sure that there were no loopholes - you didn't want a future possibility of Taehyung being entangled with the wrong side of the law again. 

He rolled his eyes, leaning further. "Curious little thing, aren't you? Like I'd told you last night, most of them are dead. Mom had died a few months before I was arrested - thanks to my stepfather being an alcoholic and taking everything out on her. Grandmother already had massive health issues - she passed away after two years of me being in jail - they had let me come out for her funeral."

"My siblings - a brother and sister, if you remember - were taken in by a distant relative, and the last time I spoke to them was three years ago. I'm not allowed to contact them because I might end up being a 'bad influence'," he air quoted the words, laughing mirthlessly. "Guess they won't be too delighted to see me again. You probably know about my stepfather - got drunk and passed out. Permanently. But yeah, that's all. I'm pretty much the sole benefactor from that account."

Hearing how nonchalantly he spoke about it, you were forced to maintain a strong face and be professional. You couldn't possibly think of even wanting to comfort him in any way. "So, you were absolutely not stealing."

"Nope. No. Not at all. Want any further repetitions?" 

"That won't be necessary," You said, having typed out the information - tracking his expenditures would also be necessary now, apparently. "Any expenditure you make shall be monitored, now. Be careful."

"Always have been." He chuckled, getting back to spinning the glass on the table. "You know me." 

You ignored him. "Your cards will be tracked, and any loose cash will be checked by us. If we feel that there's any room for suspicion, you will have reason to be monitored." 

An odd silence filled the room while you tapped away at your laptop, filling in more details about the incident. Taehyung would be having a criminal record again, you thought to yourself. It was the only thought that echoed in your mind. It made you feel uneasy in a way, but you swallowed your unease down. There's a promotion to focus on. 

"Taehyung, something has been bugging me since I caught you vandalising." You shifted a little bit, before deciding to spit out the question. "Why did you do it?" You leaned forwards on the table, elbows digging into the wood as you tried to grasp the answers from him. 

Taehyung looked you in the eyes, and then looked away. "I don't know."

"You don't know." You raised your eyebrows, leaning back incredulously. "Taehyung, that's not an answer." 

"I did it because I wanted to. It was fun. I'd see kids in the morning pointing at my graffiti work and they would like it. There would be people claiming it looked good. I felt acknowledged and I just-" He pleaded, unable to continue without pausing to recollect his calm. "I felt like doing it. After years of having questions raised at me for committing a crime I never did, I finally had people talking about the work I did. Even if it was just chalk drawings." 

You exhaled in confusion. The Taehyung you had known - he was never like this. Confident, assured, independent. That was what he seemed to you when you were younger. And now, to see him want to be validated by others who never even cared for him- it felt ridiculous to you. Why was his only way of feeling validated involving something against the law? "Okay, then." 

You went through the complaints that had been registered against him, hand resting against your forehead as you asked him the most commonly asked question. "Why the insignia 'V'?" 

"V for victory?" He made a 'V' sign with his fingers, "I liked to think that I won against the world by rebelling against its sense of black and white. I saw everyone talk about it, and I felt like the same people who had once pointed fingers at me, blaming me for something I hadn't done, were now pointing fingers at something I had done - I felt victorious. I didn't need to show myself and possibly want more than I had already let myself have - this was enough for me." 

You pulled your lips in a tight line, and hummed in response - there were two places that together had put in about twenty complaints, so you had to respond to all of them. You kept reminding yourself that neither did you have the space to feel sorry for him, nor did you have the power to say sorry to him. You simply kept your head turned to the screen, typing in answers to all the complaints. 

Taehyung leaned forward after a few seconds. "What punishment do you think I'll get, Officer?" 

"If the chief is feeling good, maybe you'll get community service, with a fine," You looked up at him. "Or maybe some time in jail." 

"How much time?"

"Maybe a month or two?" 

"Oh." Taehyung slumped back into his seat nonchalantly. "Cool then." 

How was he this calm? You thought to yourself. He might be going to jail. For a second time.

"Yup." You shut the laptop, finally, after hours of typing information and recording it. Sighing, you lifted the porcelain mug once again to absolutely drain it of coffee, your rather loud gulps echoing in the silence of your office. 

Taehyung tapped his fingers on the table- probably some old tune he had learnt before. You remembered that he played the saxophone - from nights of serenading tunes that he had played for you with his beloved instrument. "How long do you think the chief will take to reach here?" 

"A few hours, maybe? I'd expect him around ten, to be honest. Nevertheless, let me check." You quickly called the chief on your phone, hearing his ringtone play some old Korean trot song before it was picked up. 

"Hello, yes, yes, Y/N. I expected your call." A gravely, rather rough voice responded to you- like it hadn't been used for a few hours. "I shall be reaching the office around eleven. Keep Taehyung with you." 

"Yes sir," you said, keeping the phone on your table and turning to Taehyung.  "The chief said he'll be here by eleven." 

Taehyung nodded in acknowledgement. 

"It's nearly eight thirty now." You looked at the cuckoo clock again. "Would you like to freshen up?" 

"Where?" Taehyung asked, eyes widening. "Shouldn't I just be at the office?" 

"Yeah, you should. My place is right here- the back of this office is where I live, so you'll be fine." You look down at his clothes, grease, paint and metal shrapnel all over them. "Besides, you look like you need a change of clothes." 

Taehyung stepped into your house with an air of curiosity, to see how his once classmate was living. His head stooped low to enter through the small door you had, eyes widening in surprise when he found that the hall of your house was larger than he had anticipated. 

The house was quaint, a hall with an old couch which doubled as a bed when needed. There was a table in the middle of the room, too low to be a dining table and too high to be a center table. For coffee, maybe? There were maybe five or six magazines scattered haphazardly over it, covering nearly every inch- except for one corner, where Taehyung spotted a shining acrylic blue. 

You, however, spotted what page you had left a magazine open at. Squeaking, "I'm sorry!" you ran to shut the booklet close, afraid that Taehyung would spot your love for shirtless men. 

Picking up the magazines, you grinned sheepishly at him. "Just a moment! I'll be back, a bit of cleaning to be done, sit right here!" You patted the couch, trying to convince Taehyung. 

Taehyung turned away from the pictures he had been observing- was there one of you both? - and nodded, eyes widening in surprise as he saw how you scuttled away to hide the magazines. He looked around again, taking a feel of your house- it seemed like the old you. There was some patchwork embroidery you had left in a corner, atop what seemed to be a showpiece? Taehyung stepped closer to see it in detail, and was amazed at the way you had managed to drag the red thread over and over the pink fabric to make floral designs. It reminded him of the rose he had been trying to complete the previous night, and he grit his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about that now. That shouldn't be what he does anymore. No more.

You came back, looking quizzically at him. "Take a seat, Taehyung! It's alright." 

"Uh, yeah." He shuffled over to the couch again. "Did you make that?" 

You looked in the direction his finger pointed to. "Yeah. Tried doing embroidery for stress release purposes." 

Taehyung grinned at you. "Stress release?" He asked, bemused. 

"Yup." You said while making sure that the magazines were well hidden. "The department I wanted to be in was forensics, you know?" Taehyung nodded, he had been privy to most of your discussions about the advances in forensic technology and analysis - even if he didn't understand anything, he knew your love for it. "Well, they didn't allow me. So the whole 'stress' thing began." You walked back to him, making air quotes as you emphasized on stress. "My mother suggested embroidery would take my mind off it. So, that incomplete piece you see there?" Taehyung nodded, concentrating on every word that left your mouth. "That started a few days ago." 

"It looks like it's complete, though- are you really good at it?" Taehyung looked at you again, turning back from the embroidery you were now rising to get. 

"Pretty much? It's easy once you get the hang of it." 

"Ah." Taehyung said, a dull silence settling into the room for a few moments as Taehyung looked around your room.  

"That picture." He pointed, and you turned your head around. The picture he was focusing on was on your mantelpiece, resting happily. The frame had butterflies stuck on its corners, two large and two small. The border was white, now off white, and had pink dots in certain places. It was a picture of fireworks- red, yellow and blue mixing together in a dull sky to breathe life into the picture. And right in the middle, surrounded by this liveliness, were you and Taehyung. Beaming. 

Taehyung turned to, finger still pointing at the picture. "That's our picture, right?" 

You hummed in affirmation. "That's us, freshman party. We had known each other for a few weeks at this time."

"And I had stopped someone from asking you out, right?" Taehyung reminisced. "That was fun." 

You snort. "You had punched him in the face when he asked for my name, Taehyung." 

Taehyung smiled. "I didn't want anyone to harm you, Y/N, and he seemed like he would harm you." He spread out his arms and grinned smugly at you. "In a way, I rescued you. That night." 

And so many other nights, you wanted to say. For all the time you had known Taehyung, he had been fiercely protective of you - for reasons he never truly told you. You didn't question it either, basking in the feeling of being wanted by someone. 

You cleared your throat, hoping to clear your mind as well. "You should go take a shower, Taehyung." Glancing at the clock, you noted the time and motioned towards the washroom. "It's nearly nine. Go take a shower, call for me if you need anything. I'll go get some clothes for you."

Taehyung nodded, rising up slowly to go in the direction you pointed. "Towels are inside," you shouted after him, and he yelled in response to say he understood. In some ways, too many ways, he felt like the Taehyung you once knew. 

You went to your room to pick out some clothes, opening your meager collection to salvage something that would fit Taehyung. Your eyes scanned over your uniforms, jumpsuits, jeans, t-shirts and finally landed on the hoodies- probably the largest collection in your wardrobe. Thankfully, you loved large, loose hoodies. You started pulling them out, holding each one up and imagining Taehyung's proportions in them. 

The red one, with blue paw prints. "Nah. Too tight." 

The black plain one. "That's mine, I'm not sharing that." 

The grey ones- nearly three. You skipped over all of them, not understanding how none of these oversized hoodies would seemingly fit Taehyung. He'd gotten humongous, broad shoulders and everything. 

You picked out a few more, trying to see whether it would be a fit. None worked. 

When you picked up the next one, you could already picture him wearing it. It was the hoodie you had taken from Taehyung during the first year you knew each other. You looked at its loose sleeves, stretchy from you tugging Taehyung behind you with it way back then. The green fabric of the hoodie was slightly pale in a certain spot - you had spilled soda all over him in a fit of anger.

During your forensic chemistry class,  the teacher didn't recognise their mistakes in the procedure (they used the wrong test for detecting the sample, and blamed it on you), and you were pretty miffed the whole day. Taehyung had bought sodas for the two of you, having planned to go stargazing later on. And you, in a terrible mood, flipped him off in a way that had the soda spilling over him. You cried, Taehyung laughed, but the hoodie was still stained. You took it with you later on to clean it - but the stubborn stain never left. You were agonized, Taehyung amused, but the hoodie- it was still stained. Taehyung had laughed it off, telling you to keep it with you for as long as you wanted- he could buy a dozen more hoodies to last him till then. 

When you left to head home that winter break, you had taken the hoodie with you. You had taken it on your date, crying on its sleeves when you were stood up. And when you came back, Taehyung was suddenly a criminal. 

You shook your head to remove the memories of that time, holding the hoodie in your hand and gently caressing its sleeves. So many memories were held in these threads that meshed together to form the fabric of your youth. Good or bad? You didn't want to dwell on that. 

"Y/N? Could I get the clothes now?" Taehyung called from the washroom. You picked up a extra large pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie, and passed it to him without really thinking- you'd done it before when he got drunk at college too, having him come over at your place, shower, change, and practically behave like a couple- at least, that's what you had thought of it then. 

Get it together, Y/N, why are you thinking about that? 

"Thanks!" he shouted again, grasping the clothes with his fingers and whisking them away to the confines of the washroom. 

You gripped at your hair and pinched your cheeks. You couldn't keep thinking about the old Taehyung. You didn't know if it was truly him anymore. 

"Uh, Y/N?" Taehyung stepped out of the washroom, the previously oversized shorts clinging to his thighs for dear life and the hoodie snugly fitting his figure. "I think it's a bit tight, but I'll make do." 

Your eyes widened in horror; Taehyung looked like he was moments away from bursting the shorts. "I'll get you new pants, wait a second. These ones don't fit." 

You turned back to your cupboard, looking for the loosest bottoms you could find. "I think the hoodie still fits though, right?" 

"Yeah." You heard Taehyung right over your shoulder, scaring you. 

"Jeez, when did you get this close to me?" You turned to face him, crossing your arms, looking at his hair which still had droplets sticking to its edges. 

"When did you get this far from me, Y/N?" His eyes bore into yours, sweetly intense eyes gazing at you like it was the first time he saw you. "What happened?" 

You shrugged, not wanting to answer it. You picked up a loose pair of denim jeans that you had found stuffed away at the back of your closet. Pushing it into his hands, you told him to go change. 

Apparently, your instructions fell on deaf ears. "What happened, Y/N? Answer me. Please."

You moved your gaze to his clothes, not wanting to focus on the thoughts that rushed back when you thought of him. What had happened? You moved your hands to your sides, resisting the need to hold him and know him all over again. "The hoodie looks good on you. Would you-" 

"So do our hands." He held yours, snugly fitting his palm- your calloused fingers against his calloused ones, heat burning in the sleeping embers of your palm. His eyes gazed at the joint fingertips almost reverently. "They fit well."

"Taehyung, now is not the time-" You begin, cut off by his frantic breathing.

"When is the time, Y/N? When will I get to live? When will I get to feel like a human? When will I be innocent?"

His hand caressed your palm, touching your forearm, your elbow, your shoulder, and your cheek -leaving a burning trail behind him everywhere he touched. You shivered. "Do you know how long I have wanted you, Y/N? Years. Seven years, now. I have loved you for years. I have wanted you for years. I did all sorts of things to remember you while in jail- kept asking for you, kept calling for you. I didn't want to forget you, Y/N. Not you. I couldn't forget you, no." 

He pressed your palm to his chest, and you could feel a dull thump echo through the clothes, reverberate in your palms. "That fire, Y/N. My passion in the promises I'd made to you. It never went anywhere. I always loved you. I always will. You can't make me leave again, not again. Please, no." 

He held your palm up to his cheeks, not regarding the tears that were streaking your cheeks and his. "You feel me, right? It's me. Taehyung. I am the one you trusted. I'm the same. Trust me again. Please." 

You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to slide down your cheeks, not wanting to pain Taehyung anymore. He held your forehead to his, pressing on the back of your head to meet his - upclose, you could see the redness that clouded the shine that his eyes would normally have. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, nearly whimpering when you saw how broken he was- sirens swimming in the whirlpool of his eyes, singing songs of misery. "You know me, right? Do you know me? Do you recognize me? Kim Taehyung, police cadet. Your friend. Your classmate. You know me, right?" He asked, nose nearly brushing yours. "Do you know me?"He cried, eyes washing over the fire that ignited behind his pupils. You didn't see a vandal, or a criminal, or a friend. You saw a broken man. 

"Taehyung, oh, Tae," you cried, putting your hands on his shoulders, watching him slink down to the ground as his body trembled and shivered. You wrapped your arms close around his figure, unable to understand his pain but just wanting it to go away. 

You sat like that for a while, coaxing the tears and short whimpers out of him as he held onto your fingers, wanting to remember something he once had: you. 

"I always asked for you, you know that?" Taehyung shivered as he spoke, even if the chills of the weather outside barely seeped into your home. "I always loved you. I don't know why they kept me there for so long, Y/N. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't know why I'm made to feel like this…" he trailed away, tears gathering at his chin as they endlessly flowed down his cheeks. 

You glanced a nervous eye at the clock, wanting to make sure that you get to the station- no matter what happens. The bubbling of water distracted you from the ticking of the clock, and you turned off the stove. Scouring your cabinets for a chamomile tea bag was hard, but you knew you needed it. Taehyung always seemed to calm down with tea - you had used it multiple times before. Times of which you have multiple memories. Times you wish to forget. 

Why did I ever love Taehyung? The question kept echoing in your mind as you leaned on top of the kitchen counter top. Things would have been so much simpler if simply looking at him wasn't so hard. His smile, his behaviour, his tears - it was all but a painful reminder of what you could have been if things had gone different. If only. 

You poured the hot water into the mug you had settled on the kitchen top, watching the water bloom into a serene shade of yellow as you dipped the tea bag into it repeatedly. You prepared one mug, then another, hearing the soft declarations Taehyung kept repeating while he was seated. 

All you had wanted to study was forensic science, and that was simply for one reason: you didn't want to interact with people. 

People are complicated, over emotional beings. and you couldn't help but feel helpless every time you had to encounter a suspect. You would constantly be told by your professors to see them as lawbreakers - but all you tried finding was signs of humanity in them. That even the most vicious killers had scope for reform. That's why you stuck to the subjects you wanted - you were good at finding signs of life, not squashing them. You consistently failed those classes, without any doubt. And today, it seemed like all those classes were laughing at you. 

"Here." You handed the mug to Taehyung, who muttered thanks. He rubbed his hands once or twice on the pants you told him to change into and took a sip from the warm tea. You resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the tears that lined his face, and try and wipe the scars of the past that had scarred him so badly - but you couldn't. You were a mere spectator in the game of his life. You couldn't possibly do anything other than hurt him more. 

"Thank you. For letting me express all of it. I could finally say everything that I wanted to before I was forbidden from speaking about it again." Taehyung tapped against the mug, fingernails resting on ceramic as the sun slowly headed westward. "I'm sorry that I've been such a burden to you, Y/N. I wonder if I can do anything to reduce the pain and confusion I put you through - I doubt I can." He looked at you carefully, though you couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Thank you." 

You let his words echo in the room, preoccupied with your thoughts. It hurt you to see him so broken, and you couldn't help but worry about him. 

"Taehyung, I-" You opened your mouth to respond, watching Taehyung pay attention to every move you made - only to be interrupted by your phone loudly ringing. 

"Sorry, this must be important." You got up to get your phone, watching Taehyung slump in his seat from the edge of your vision. 

"It's the chief," you announced, picking up the phone. 

He got straight to the point. "Come to the station, soon. Bring Taehyung with you." he told, his voice laced with a rather sharp edge- a tone that you had recognized in the years you had worked under him. Things were- most probably- not good. 

You responded with a simple "yes", mind dwelling on the impending result that Taehyung would get. You felt that it would be unlikely that he would be going to jail- at least, you hoped so.

Turning to Taehyung, you tried to hide the fear and shakiness that lined your voice. "Let's go." 

Taehyung sighed, playing with the mug as he rose up. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Good morning, Sir." You greeted the chief as he hurried into the small office, giving Taehyung a glance and then facing you. 

"Morning." He gruffly responded, turning to your laptop. "We found an eyewitness for the vandalism, so we are getting them for the interrogation as well." 

"Another interrogation? We've already done it, sir, and all the information is recorded here. I doubt it will be necessary-"

"Please, Y/N," He calmly said. "Leave the decision about it being necessary to me." 

You stepped back, subconsciously edging closer to Taehyung - a move noticed by the chief as well. 

"Y/N," he began, "I need to speak to you. In private. Step outside for a few moments, please." 

You nodded, briskly walking towards the doors and yanking them open. There was a warm gust of wind that blew across your face, and you turned to face the chief. 

"Y/N," the chief began, before pausing for a moment, "Officer Y/N. I'm going to need you to think clearly now." 

"Yes." You set your features as tightly as you could, not wanting to seem distracted in any way. 

"Do you have any type of bias in this case, perhaps due to your past relation with him?" he looked quizzically at you, as if trying to decipher an enigma scribbled onto your face. 

Your blood chilled, for some reason. Were you having any bias? "No, sir." 

The chief hummed - you couldn't make head or tail of his reaction. He kicked at a pebble before continuing. "From the recordings I heard the previous night in the office, and the way you let him come with you to freshen up a bit, one particular thing has struck me: you were trying to find reasons for Taehyung to be justified as a victim, weren't you?" 

You gulped before responding. "Yes, sir. I believe the culprit committed vandalism as a coping mechanism to get over the hurt caused over the years." 

The chief sighed heavily. "Well then," he said, "I suggest we continue with our investigation, and find a way to make sure the culprit in the matter is stable as well. We can't have repeated cases like these - we have a reputation to uphold for the police as well." 

You nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir." 

The chief sighed again, glancing at the street. "Our witness should be here soon." He turned to you again. "Funnily enough, she volunteered as a witness with CCTV backup to claim that Taehyung had vandalized her shop too. Apparently she heard you arrest him last night - so we have to hear her out." 

The chief turned again to the road, eyes narrowing in hopes of spotting the witness soon. "The investigator whom she contacted has said she is a reliable witness, but I'm going to need to verify her statement nonetheless." He turned back, heading into the office.

You stared at the road that the chief was looking at before - the direction from which the supposedly reliable eyewitness would come, before heading back inside. 

Taehyung was still slumped in his seat, fingers tracing drawings all over the pants you had given him. The chief was shuffling around behind the desk, pulling two spare chairs ahead - one for Taehyung, you presumed, and one for the eyewitness - whoever that would be. 

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," the chief began, "there has been an eyewitness who has offered their testimony - whether it is to defend you, or further establish evidence of you vandalizing public spaces, I'm not yet aware. We shall be interrogating them - and maybe you, as well, now." 

Taehyung rose up from the corner he had settled into, and shuffled into the seat the chief had set for him, wordlessly. 

The door opened to reveal an older lady, dressed in a purple shaded hanbok, hair delicately pulled back into a tight bun and eyes peering around the whole office in curiosity. She found the chief, walking closer to the desk where he was arranging the records. "I'm here as the eyewitness..?"She said, looking at both you and the chief. 

"Ah, yes. I presume you're Ms. Park?" The chief asked, pulling the chair out for her to settle into it. Under the light that shined across her face, you could make out the wrinkles that lined her skin and the greys in her hair - not that that was relevant to what would happen. 

"I saw him vandalize the outside of my store a few days ago," she earnestly began, pulling out pictures that she had taken of the design on her window.  "I'm a florist, you see. His designs are clearly inspired by that, aren't they?" She pushed the pictures in front of your vision, and you could see what she meant - the designs of orchids, hibiscus and asters stared back at you, intricately painted onto the glass windows of the florist's shop. 

She pulled out more pictures. "There's been similar instances all over the neighbourhood- the other florist had a rose, the school received drawings full of children's stories and fairy tales, and had their walls painted with similar stories. In fact, the restaurants around here even said that their menus were drawn onto the streets, right in front of their doorstep." 

The chief looked at the pictures carefully, with you peering at them as well, taking in the detail that Taehyung had while he worked while making each of his works- no, vandalising, you corrected yourself. He raised an eyebrow at the eyewitness, who seemed to shrink into her seat. "What does this bring forward as evidence for or against the culprit? We already know what the crime is, and its details. We just have to determine a punishment- either a hefty fine or jail. Do you have anything that can justify him getting exempted from either?"

Ms. Park looked at you and the chief before turning to Taehyung apologetically, placing a hand on his knee - as if consoling him. "I think that at the end of the day, all he was doing was beautifying the neighbourhood, wasn't he? And most of the residents here don't have a problem with it-" the chief looked at her incredulously- "so please, don't punish him or something. A lot of people appreciate his work in our neighborhood, you know?" 

"But we have been receiving complaints about him since the past few days," the chief said. "Why the sudden change in opinion?"

Ms. Park fidgeted with the hem of her hanbok for a few moments, shaking her head nervously. "Some of us shopkeepers were really bothered by it at first, yes, but we also had some customers come over to inquire about the artwork. It looked professional to them. So we came to an ultimatum : we will let this young man paint and draw for us, on our walls, as much as he wants - as long as it's pretty," she emphasized, one hand patting her chest, "we'll pay him to do it." 

You held back a sob as you saw Taehyung's eyes glimmer - a ray of hope shining in them.His knee bounced up and down- a habit you knew was something he had had since years - and he smiled softly when Ms. Park squeezed his hand. You felt like things were finally going to go well. The chief exhaled roughly before rubbing his forehead, glancing at Ms. Park, who smiled at him in the hope that he would understand her reasoning. 

"The law, honestly, doesn't care about intentions- I don't think I really understand why I should even let him go. Vandalism is a punishable offence, and the perpetrator has been aware of its consequences. Why the sudden feeling to save him?" The chief questioned, eyes steely and tough. 

Ms. Park hesitated for a few moments. "I believe he deserves a second chance." She pulled her chair ahead, the metal ends scraping against the tiles, and pleaded once again. "He was arrested for years for something he hadn't even done - and now, might face a few more months in the same place for simply being artistic. I don't think it deserves punishment."

"That's for the law to decide, not you, madam." The chief sternly said. "I suggest you leave such decisions to us."

The room remained tense and quiet for the next few moments, and your eyes were trained on Taehyung. You noticed the quiver in his hands, the way he shrunk into his chair - as if to hide away from whatever the upcoming decision would be. 

Ms. Park was the first to interrupt the loud silence. "Oh, come on. Let me just pay for the boy's bail." 

The clock chose that moment to loudly announce the next hour: was it eleven? Twelve? You weren't paying attention. You only saw the way Taehyung rose up from his seat - in happiness, you thought - with fists sticking to his sides. "No. I won't accept it." 

You felt the chief look with just as much disbelief as you did. Why was he so hellbent on being a perpetrator when he could be free? 

Ms. Park laughed. "No. I'm not listening to that whole self righteous thing that you probably have," she swatted the air with her hand, as if to push away any explanations Taehyung could give.

"Look, ma'am. I have the money to get a bail, or even pay the fine. I don't want you to pay for me and then hold it above my head like a massive favour you have done for me." Fire blazed in his eyes as he spoke up, rather indignantly. "I can take care of myself." 

"To hell with that attitude," Ms. Park said. "I decided to help you because I didn't want you to suffer once again because of misunderstandings." She pulled Taehyung back to sit on his chair, clasping his hand between her wrinkled ones. "You had to go through so much pain at such a young age - no one deserves that. I was a mere bystander at the time you were arrested, and I regretted it then. I still regret it now." 

She sighed before caressing the back of his hand lovingly, thumb gently pressing on the skin- as if to feel the pain those hands had to go through, and you thought you saw a hint of a tear on his cheeks. "So don't question me for 'saving' you, or something - what you did was perfectly fine for me. I love the way my street looks now, and so do the neighbours. All that really remained was the artist's identity- and now that I know it's you, I don't feel any sort of guilt in justifying what you did." 

You were right. Taehyung was crying. It wasn't silent tears that rained gently down his cheeks, it was a whole thunderstorm. You saw the chief turn away, from the corner of your vision, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. He was biting on his bottom lip to hold back any of the sobs or whimpers that came, head lowering to hide the tears. 

Ms. Park simply caressed his hand, over and over, till he calmed down enough to wipe his tears with his free hand. And when he raised his head up, you saw him like a new person. The wound up Taehyung you had met again a few hours ago was slowly vanishing - in his stead, there was a free Taehyung who smiled like the world's burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured. 

The chief sighed again. "I still don't understand how it came to this." 

"Neither do I," Ms. Park laughed. "But it is what it is. We'll pay the fine."

"I'll do it," Taehyung started, only to be shushed by the elder lady. "I want to do it. Let me do it." She turned again to the chief, the bubbly happiness giving way to seriousness. "You can make sure he pays the fine, right? Withdraw the complaints for us too." 

The chief looked at you and nodded, and you got to work - carefully opening the laptop again and making sure that you transferred the report from 'investigation' to 'resolved', and that the complaint was withdrawn. 

The chief, meanwhile, made physical records of it, and informed Taehyung of the fine - which, despite his insistence, Ms. Park paid off, whipping out a cheque she had kept ready, somehow. You added the details to his resolved record as the chief dictated them to you, keeping them for future references - which you hoped would only be needed to prove his innocence in any situation. 

Nearly twenty minutes of details, questioning, and a written assurance from Taehyung that he would be liable to arrest if he continued illegal activities, it was done. Taehyung was free. 

The chief read over the details once again, thoroughly, eyes getting heavier and softer with every document he checked. Once it was all done, filed, and you had stacked the records back in the drawers they were placed in, the chief sagged into the chair, hands clutching the steel arms for support. 

"Thank God," he whispered, eyes closed. "You're fine now." He got up shakily, hands wiping at his eyes to erase any traces of the tears that had possibly leaked out. He walked around the table, reaching for Taehyung - as if beyond the lines of that desk, his duties as an officer stopped and those as a teacher resumed. "Don't you dare do that again, Taehyung. Never again." He held his student by the shoulder tightly, gripping him and shaking him a little - like a parent would scold a kid. "Live a good life, please." 

Taehyung nodded frantically, eyes still wide in disbelief as he ignored the grubby tear streaks on his face. "I will, sir." He had his hands placed politely in front of him, trembling fingers clutching onto the rough denim fabric of the old, loose jeans you had made him wear. 

"Live well," the chief repeated again, thumping Taehyung's shoulder once and then turning around to collect the documents he would need to take with him. He bowed to Ms. Park, who acknowledged him before something at a corner of the small office caught her eye, and turned sharply to you. "Officer Y/N," he began, and you tensed a little bit more. "There was an opening last night in the forensic science department that I got notice of," he said, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips when he saw how your demeanor brightened. "Reach the head office tomorrow in the morning at ten, and I'll give you the details. All the best." 

You hastily held back the sudden smile that threatened to split on your face, smartly saluting your senior before he turned around to leave the office. As he opened the door, you felt a burst of warmth all over your body - the heat of the sunshine rushing into the room. 

Ms. Park walked from her corner to Taehyung, taking his palm between hers and squeezing. "I'm happy that you're free now, Taehyung." She looked carefully at his face - sternness making way for soft concern, and said, "Live wisely. If you need money, or a job to get you started, come to my shop - it's the one you painted with orchids. You remember it, right?" 

Taehyung responded with a rather choked 'yes', nodding his head frantically. He placed his other, trembling hand upon the lady's hands, and solemnly thanked her. 

"That's not needed, I told you." She smiled, before patting his cheek. "You deserve to let yourself live, so use this chance well. Work hard." She turned her head to look through the window behind her, groaning a bit at the sight of the brightly burning sun. "I better leave now - it seems that I'll end up getting a sunburn the nearer to twelve it is." She turned back to Taehyung, smiling softly, and patting his cheek. "Turn up at the shop tomorrow morning, we'll figure something out." 

"Oh, and officer?" she faced you, pointing in the corner where she was standing a few moments before. "I think my grandson had left his plushie over here a few days ago - it's this one, right?" You followed where her hand was pointing, finding a pumpkin plushie left casually on top of a table. "Sungwoo told me he had lost it some time ago, so I just thought it was this one," she laughed awkwardly. 

"I think it is his, he had come yesterday to file a missing complaint for it too," you said, causing Ms. Park to laugh. "He really loves it, doesn't he?" 

"He's not slept well since it went missing. Anyways, I better take it with me, if that's all."

"Just a moment, ma'am," you stopped her hastily. "He'd left a note for the plushie too - I believe Peter?" 

The elderly woman laughed at her grandson's antics, taking the note you offered her and grinning as she read it. "Yes, yes, Peter. I'll take the note with me. Thank you so much for everything, officer."

Thank you, you wish to say - unable to understand how she volunteered to be an eyewitness and defend the one person you cared so much for. Maybe words wouldn't be enough for you to convey how grateful you were to her, so you simply bowed to the woman. 

She took Taehyung's hand again, gently pressing on the back of his hand. "Your mother used to help me out in the shop, you know." Taehyung nodded, and she smiled. "Your hands are like hers. Delicate, yet strong. You can craft beauty with this hand, Taehyung." She squeezed his hand, smiling. "Don't just let that beauty slip away from you." 

She patted his hand again, before turning to you and smiling, and heading out. The sunlight bounced off her gray hair to shine on Taehyung as you looked at him - even with a tired expression, he looked more alive than you had seen him in the last few hours. 

"I'm free," he said, saying it aloud and letting himself feel the sensation for a few moments. 

He turned to you, watching the way your eyes told him that you understood everything you wanted to tell him - even the things he himself didn't understand. "I'm free, Y/N," he repeated, carefully examining his wrists that were once bound with handcuffs - no. There were no restraints there. 

His eyes panned around the room. There was no investigator who questioned him about why he simply couldn't admit his crime. No one who made fun of him for seeking comfort in his art - even if it was illegal. "I'm really free," he murmured again.

Taehyung leaped towards you, pulling you close and holding you tight, as if unable to believe that you were there with him: and that he was here with you for as long as he wanted to be. You let your arms circle around his neck, one curling through the hair at his nape and pulling him further into your embrace, and the other spread out over his back - trying to remind yourself that yes, he was here, with you. 

"Thank you," you felt him murmur into your shoulder. 

"For what?"

"Just being here. With me." He sighed, further tightening the hands that rested around your waist. "After so many unfamiliar faces over the years, seeing yours feels like a reward of sorts for behaving well." 

You laughed at him, slapping his back light heartedly. "Don't talk like you did anything wrong all those years ago. It's not good." You let your hands pane across the expanse of his skin, feeling him cling on to you as you tried to calm him down. "I'm happy for you, Tae." 

He held you like that, for a few more moments - like you were slowly pulling him back into what could be his new normal life. Waking up every day in a room that doesn't have steel bars as a door. Not having to crash at the old house that had haunted him for years. Not having to hide his face in the fear that someone would taunt him for his past. Actually doing something that made him feel happy, confident, and alive. 

"I'm happy too," he murmured into your shoulder. You hummed as he looked beyond your frame to see the streets outside the window - seeing how they were illuminated in daylight. How animatedly people were talking about what their plans for the day were. A kid kept hopping on a chalk drawing of hopscotch he had drawn on the footpath, clutching onto a plushie that oddly seemed like a pumpkin. Someone walked around their stall, setting things up for the day. 

You pulled him away from your grip to look at him again - not wanting to forget any part of him in any way. "I still care for you as much as I did all those years ago, you know." You put your hands on his biceps, just as you used to do when you had to knock sense into your friend. "You better not hide anything from me now." 

"I have no intentions of," he grinned. "Thank you very much." 

You giggled, a feeling you hadn't felt in years fluttering around your stomach like butterflies. 

"About us," Taehyung began, holding your hands in his, "You know that I love you, right?" You felt yourself tense up, and probably Taehyung did too, as he squeezed your hands. "I'm not in any hurry. I want to take some time to understand myself and what I want to do before I think of anything with you. But when I'm settled, and I'm someone I can be proud of, I want to come back to you. Be with you forever." He let go of your hands to hold your cheeks, smiling as he saw your big eyes peer at him. "You'll let me, right?" 

Your eyes softened. "Of course, Taehyung."

"Tae." He corrected you, coming closer to press a kiss on your forehead. 

You smiled when he moved back, glancing down at all of him and laughing. "For beginners, how about we get you clothes to change into?" 

He looked down at his clothes, laughing with you. "Let's go, then?" 

You nodded at him, pulling him out of the office, and locking it securely before turning to a widely grinning Taehyung. "I have a feeling I'm going to love the daytime. It's just so positive, and nice, don't you think? Really warm all over." 

"You're just saying that because you lived like a night owl," you laughed at him, watching his eyes sparkle in the sunshine. 

"Yeah, that wasn't the best way to live, was it?" He clicked his tongue and frowned. "Guess I better start living well now. To new beginnings, then, Officer!!" He grinned and poked your forehead. 

You watched Taehyung skip over the pebbles that were lined outside the office, walking freely on the streets, feeling the dread that you had let build up in your heart for so long slowly drain out of you. "Wait for me!" You screamed behind him, running to catch up to him. To new beginnings, you thought. 

a/n: hopefully, this piece of writing was worth your time 😊 thank you so much for reading graffiti and chalk!! I'd love to hear any feedback you have. Feel free to send it in as a comment, reblog, or as an ask! love, hazel 💞

taglist: @taejinnies (the torture is over bahaha), @xiaokoo, @thedarkwinterrose, @shatzkrinslinzki

masterlist

[raspberry-arev]

After the Flood (a.k.a. bicci fic)

Hello friends! Some of you may remember that back in... er, who knows, I was writing a Bicci Proposal Fanfic. However, school and lack of motivation got in the way, and essentially, I forgot it existed. Until now. It's done, it's ready, it's here for you to read in whole! (I posted half of it before, but I can't find the thing.)

Characters: Jimmy Kaga-Ricci, Lister Bird, Rowan Omondi, OC (Abby Omondi), Angel Rahimi

Themes: older Ark, marriage proposal, coming out, grand gestures, The Ark Revival Tour, and peak Bicci romance (hopefully)

TWs: mentions of recovery from addiction, anxiety, food

Word count: 9k

JIMMY

It’s often impossible to pinpoint what exactly set off an event – or perhaps multiple – that changed your life as you knew it.

That was not Jimmy’s case, however. He remembered that Barbecue Saturday very well.

This time, it was Rowan and his spouse Abby who hosted. The two couples took turns and Jimmy was oh so grateful for it; the idea of managing Lister’s chaotic culinary experiments more than twice in one summer filled him with dread.

On Saturday morning, Jimmy and Lister packed up and drove all the way to the suburbs of London where Rowan and Abby lived. The sun was bright, everything gleamed buttery yellow, and Jimmy managed to talk Abby into letting him set the table and carry in all the food instead of her, which was quite an accomplishment. She was about as stubborn as her husband.

They rarely invited more than three extra people though. Being in the public eye in your formative years made you appreciate small gatherings of trustworthy people. And one of those proved to be Angel. Or, you know, Feresteh, but her nickname really stuck with them. From that time Jimmy nearly quit the band and Lister impaled himself and almost drowned in mud… yeah, call that a wild youth.

Over ten years later, they were hardly the same people.

After they decided to quit being The Ark for their own wellbeing and safety, Rowan kept his place in the music industry as a songwriter, producer and a solo artist. He went with the name Le Monde, a play on his surname as well as French for “the world”. It suited him. He was the world, never small, never just one thing.

Lister stopped being involved in music after a few collabs. While he was figuring out what to do next, he took a few modelling jobs, acted in music videos and got a small part in a sitcom. Jimmy used that time to get a college degree, but found he just wouldn’t be able to get the usual “college experience” he yearned for, and only got his diploma after doing classes long-distance.

Jimmy and Lister also got together. After many failed attempts at courtship and pretending being friends with benefits was enough… they got together. To Jimmy, it felt like it was inevitable; they have acted like partners long before it was official, they just needed to clean up their own messes before they could be a couple. It wouldn’t have felt right back then, but it did now.

Rowan was already at the grill preparing meat and wrapping camembert in shiny aluminium foil when Angel marched in, tall, elegant, beaming. Jimmy loved to see her again. Each time, she seemed a little more confident, more expressive, more… just more. She really did find her calling in the music industry, just as much as he found his tucked away in rural England with his boyfriend.

Yet, he was to be “tucked away” no longer.

At a certain point, their group fell momentarily silent; everyone was chewing their meal and soaking in the sun. Then Angel said, in an unfamiliar, cautious tone: “You see, I was talking to a couple of people…”

Rowan exchanged a quick look with Jimmy. “Go on,” he said.

“It’s gonna be ten years since you guys disbanded, you know.”

“I know,” Jimmy echoed.

“So. I was thinking. Hear me out, even if you think it’s bollocks…” Angel shot them a look, and then made a motion with her hand as if she was presenting them with something. “Have you ever thought of doing a revival concert?”

As Rowan did a theatrical “errrm”, Jimmy saw straight through his best friend’s bullshit: the two of them rehearsed this conversation. He knew Ro for most of his life, who did he think he was fooling?

His mind offered the answer quickly: Abby, perhaps. He wants to see how she would react, doesn’t he? Rowan would love to do a revival show like that, no doubt, but he valued his wife’s opinion too much to make a decision without her.

He felt movement on his left, and looked Lister in the eyes.

“Well,” said Lister, looking at him. “Wow, okay,” said Jimmy. Both were considering.

Angel swiftly picked up, “Just wanted to run this idea by you. Not because it’s me who would love to see you play once more – I mean, of course I would – but it’s expected to have an amazing turn-out.”

“Obviously, they’re The Ark,” Abby commented matter-of-factly.

“You’re right, Abby. So, guys? How are we feeling about this?”

It was bizzare. Normally, Jimmy would have expected to say he wasn’t at all interested – the boyband life was not for him anymore, tough luck – but recently, he felt a strong sense of nostalgia surge through him as the ten year mark got closer. He found himself reaching for his old guitar way more often, strumming at it, looking for something between the strings he could not reach.

Maybe he could do it just once.

What eventually came out of his mouth was… “I haven’t sung like that for a long time though.”

“You sing to me,” Lister contradicted him, his fingers intertwining with his. “All the time.”

Jimmy felt his face get hotter. “That’s hardly… Are you thousands of people?” He turned to Angel. “How many are we talking, anyway?”

She smiled a kind smile. “I don’t know, Jimmy, that depends on whether you three are up to it or not.”

Rowan cleared his throat. “Personally speaking, I think I wouldn’t mind, as long as we are just doing it once, and not trying for a comeback. I wouldn’t go there.”

“Same,” Lister nodded. “I love you guys, but I’m fine the way things are.”

“Right,” said Rowan firmly. “But… just this once, I mean, why not? We could use some extra money.” With this, he gently let his palm rest on Abby’s belly that swelled under her summer dress like a balloon. (Jimmy fought the urge to aww at them.)

Abby immediately assured him they were more than fine financially, but Rowan barely listened, clearly waiting for his former bandmates to say something. Jimmy felt Lister looking at him, unwavering. So he turned to him and asked, “What do you think? Cool or not?”

“I’m waiting for you to say.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“You shouldn’t… Just say what your opinion is!”

“You express your opinion,” Lister retorted, pretending to square his shoulders as a threat. Jimmy lovingly nudged him, and to stop being annoying to the remaining three people at the table, he shrugged, “It doesn’t sound so bad. One concert. I mean, we are still friends after all this time, so why not?”

“In that case, I would love to be the centre of attention again!” Lister exclaimed and gave Jimmy a boyish grin. “The crowd was deprived of my looks for too long.”

“Buddy, you were the drummer,” Rowan said. “Bold of you to assume anyone even looked at you with me and Jimmy jumping at the front.”

Jimmy snorted with laughter, but Lister was quick to defend himself. “Google all Lister Bird slash Reader fanfic and then we can talk about who got noticed, buddy.”

“Oi, you’re not even properly revived yet, stop fighting!” Angel called out, but laughter started bubbling from every direction before she even finished the sentence.

They had a proper business meeting about it in two weeks. And then another and another. When they announced the first date, the sales went through the roof. Jimmy had to get off of social media because the internet exploded with their names and faces. But he sort of found it a bit sweet, that so many people stuck around for them, like old friends that he never had the chance to talk to. One concert became three and then five, which was, honestly, more like a small tour at that point. Jimmy fought to call it After the Flood and won.

LISTER

“You really shouldn’t do that, you know. This bitch is hard to get rid of.”

Rowan tried to hide a small cough and put out his cigarette on the metal window sill next to him. “Hey,” he greeted Lister. “Didn’t expect you to come out here.”

“Yeah.” Lister found it hard to hang around smokers, and unfortunately, he met quite the number of them while they were in the process of rehearsing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“What’s up?”

“Can we walk, like, over there? So… nobody can hear us through the door?”

Rowan eyed him suspiciously, but he followed him to the railing on the edge of the roof. There, he turned to him, seeming to fight himself.

“I’m really looking for a less shitty way to ask this,” he admitted eventually. “But… What have you done now, Lister?”

Lister felt a sort of numbed cramp seize his stomach for a second. It took a lot not to let anger overcome him. They were well over thirty, how the hell was Rowan still treating him like a fuck up? But no. This was more important than old grudges.

“Nothing! As of yet,” he assured his bandmate.

“Okay…?”

“Right. So. Erm. Nobody is here, right? Fine. I had this idea… you know, Jimmy and I have been together for a long time and I obviously care about him a lot, I always have, you kind of know that…”

“Yes, go on,” he pushed on gently.

“Fuck it. I want to fucking propose!”

A giant weight fell off his shoulders when he spoke those words aloud. It was like coming out all over again, god.

Rowan’s eyes twinkled. “Oooh,” he almost whispered, “and you need my help with that? I’m your man, tell me the plan!”

“There is none right now.”

“Oh, okay. I can still help if you want.”

This was another part Lister dreaded discussing.

“I… okay, so, I was thinking of… doing it on stage?”

His friend’s face changed rapidly.

Lister’s dream of a grand proposal to the love of his life in brilliant stage lights and the roars of the audience faded away. “That’s a no? That’s a no. Shit, forget it then.” He felt sick.

“Lister, I’m absolutely positive you mean well,” Rowan started. “But Jimmy would-“

Speak of the devil.

The door opened and out of it peaked Jimmy’s unshaven face. “Oh! There you both are.”

Rowan froze for a second. Lister was ready to improvise. “Alright, so how about I come by yours after practice and you transfer the files to me?” He smiled, but impaled Rowan with a meaningful look.

Fortunately, he caught on. “Oh yeah, yeah, that could work.”

“What files?” Jimmy inquired as he joined them, oblivious.

“Rowan has some of our old drafts still saved. I was thinking of squeezing in a drum solo somewhere, maybe with spoken word over it?”

“Sounds cool,” Jimmy smiled at him and slightly brushed the back of his hand with Lister’s. “Anyway, Dick the Sound Guy wants us all in there immediately.”

“Stop calling him that or I’ll have a Freudian slip at some point,” Lister laughed and guided Jimmy back into the building. Him and Rowan managed to exchange a subtle nod over the shorter man’s head.

JIMMY

As they were packing up that day, Jimmy tried incredibly hard to catch Rowan alone. Just like the old times when he needed to discuss something personal. And yet again, it involved Lister. Jimmy felt young and stupid again, but not really in a good way.

Finally, he managed to stop him while he was putting away the equipment. Lister was meanwhile in the office of their temporary new manager. “Ro, I need advice!” he whispered to his best friend.

“What about?”

“It’s Lister.”

“Oh dear Jesus, I’m having flashbacks.”

“Don’t be a dick, it’s important.”

“Okay then, tell me.”

“It kind of involves you too. Just… tell me if it’s a good idea.”

“Go on!”

“I want to, uh… I want to tell people Lister and I are a couple…” He took a breath. “Which means I would be coming out as gay as well, probably. I know that’s, like, a huge pile of drama, so if you don’t want me to complicate the tour, just say it, it’s honestly kind of irresponsible when I’m thinking about it now…”

“Jimbob. Easy.” Rowan waited for a second for Jimmy to wind down, leaning on a stack of five chairs, and then asked, “Are you really sure about it? Do you want people to know?”

Jimmy felt his thoughts humming in his head. He forced himself to say exactly how he felt.

“I know it’s gonna sound super dramatic, but I don’t want to die not saying it,” he explained slowly. “It became really important to me… I don’t know when. But it did. Talking about this part of me, too. I’m just worried about what Lister might say.”

“So I take it that you didn’t discuss this?”

“No way. I don’t even know how to start!” Jimmy exploded in loud whispering. “I should have talked to him a long time ago, but I just didn’t have the balls.”

“I get that, but… just bring it up. Like, theoretically. What if. I think he’s going to support you through it.”

“How could he?”

“What are you even saying at this point?

“You think he would like people sticking their nose in our personal business? I feel like it’s so unfair to him and his privacy… And I feel terrible about still wanting to do it… even though it’s inconsiderate. It’s all a fucking mess.”

“Okay, okay.” Rowan massaged his nose. He looked like he was trying incredibly hard not to snap at Jimmy and be at least somewhat encouraging. “Look, no spoilers, but I am going to say this. Lister absolutely will notbe mad and he will want to talk about the two of you if you give him the chance. That is all.”

“Wait, what? Ro, did he tell you something?”

“I am not talking!”

“Is that how you treat your best friend in a life crisis?!”

“You’re putting me in a life crisis, don’t you dare play the pity card! I swear, the two of you are a nightmare.”

“Rowan! Come back!”

LISTER

His visit to Rowan’s place was very brief, but it was enough for him to understand Rowan’s concerns. Eventually.

Lister explained that it didn’t feel appropriate for him to just whip out a ring in a restaurant: Jimmy was his love, his dream boy, as cliché as it sounded, and he wanted to do something that would measure up to all he was feeling. Which was… well, a whole lot. Like a “get down on one knee in front of thousands of people” lot.

And yet.

“It’s all great, and I’m sure there are people in the world that would love it, but we are talking about Jimmy.”

“Come on. I know, he’s private about… well, everything, but…”

“That, yes,” Rowan pointed at him while holding a can of coke, “but don’t you think this proposal on stage would be an anxiety-inducing situation? Because to me, that sounds like a lot of pressure and nerves.”

“He hasn’t had attacks since we moved and he went on those meds.”

“That doesn’t really –“

“Matter. Yeah. Yeah, I get your point, mate, he would die of shock. And everybody watching him. Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“No, you’re not,” Rowan grinned. “The two of you are just different… in some aspects. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Will I? Lister asked himself as he was driving back to the hotel that Jimmy and him were staying at for the time being. This was the only thing I came up with, like, ever.

When he swept his key card over the sensor and the door to their suite opened, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He took a look into their little kitchen and found his boyfriend sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t notice him for a second, so Lister came up behind him and hugged him tightly.

Jimmy yelped.

“Where’s the food?!” Lister shook him a little, imitating Batman.

“Your hands are so cold!” Jimmy protested, but there was a trace of laughter in his voice. “On the stove, you bully!”

Lister almost flew over there, looking under the lid on the pot.

“Pasta,” Jimmy shrugged. “I needed my comfort food, so that’s that for you.” Lister smiled and thanked him, because yes, he was starving. Pasta was Jimmy’s go-to meal to cook, as it was quick to make and he was a pasta-sauce prodigy.

While his dinner was heating up in the microwave, Jimmy made small-talk about the supposed unused lyrics Rowan and him exchanged. Lister found it hard to lie to him, so he just turned to playful teasing, telling Jimmy to stop sniffing around, he’ll hear it when the time comes.

“Oh come on,” Jimmy huffed. “I’m just asking! And it’s my show, too. Spill it.”

“Sorry. Totally gonna steal your spotlight.”

“Lister, just tell me what it is.”

“A song.”

“What song?”

“A song that you have to wait for.”

“Babe, what song?!”

Lister took him by the waist and pulled him against his body. “Are you trying to ‘babe’ me into telling you right now? Is that what’s happening? Right in front of my pasta?” He went in for a kiss, and Jimmy tried to murmur something against his lips… but then he gave up. They leaned into each other and kept kissing until Lister pulled away to open the microwave. He got himself a fork and went to sit down after the long day, but Jimmy stayed there, right next to the sink. Looking a bit like he was going to hurl.

Before Lister could ask if he’s okay, Jimmy sat down on the other chair with a determined look on his face.

“There is something I need to discuss!” he blurted out.

Lister cautiously dropped the fork back into the bowl. “Okay…? And it’s something to do with me, yeah?”

“Yep. A lot to do with you.” He was visibly nervous. He clasped his hands together, as if Lister would have not noticed. “I… I was thinking about this one thing, and I need your opinion about it.”

“Cool. Go for it.”

“It’s about our relationship.”

“Are you aware you sound very sinister right now?”

He wildly shook his hands as if he wanted to dry them off. “Sorry, didn’t mean to,” he apologized in a strained voice. Then he cleared his throat, sharply lifted his eyes towards Lister’s and exclaimed, “I would like to reveal that we’re together.”

Lister felt everything about his face go lax in shock. He opened his eyes round and wide, his mouth followed, and Jimmy looked like he would faint.

“I, er. I just. I thought about it and I think it’s a decent idea and – please say something, Lister, before I get a fucking heart attack right now.”

It must have been so hard for him to speak up. Lister thought of his proposal plans and felt his mouth slowly form a smile. “I think it’s… brilliant! Yes, I would really like to do that!”

“Wait, really?”

“This is – I didn’t think you would want to, when did you change your mind?”

Jimmy shrugged, grinning in a sheepish way that made him look much younger. And cuter. “I thought I just… wanted to be open about this part of my life. Figured it’s time to say we are together. But if you, like, don’t feel like it, then…”

Lister beamed. “I feel like it. If you do, I do, trust me.” He walked around the table and lifted Jimmy into a hug. He laughed, relieved.

This was when it dawned on Lister… it was not such an easy matter. Exciting, yes, but it would gather all kinds of attention. He leaned onto the table, grabbed his dinner and him and Jimmy started talking about the situation it would put them in. If both are truly okay with it, how much would they reveal, when is the best time to do it. They kept talking through the bathroom door and while they were changing into pajamas in their bedroom.

As they were laying down and Lister gestured Jimmy to crawl into his arms, they became quieter. “You know why I also want to say it?” Jimmy mumbled, lying on the soft linen with one eye open.

“I’m all ears.”

“If I have to see one more article about which model or actress you’re screwing, I’m gonna lose the remaining marbles that I have.” Lister started chuckling as Jimmy awkwardly added, “Which is, admittedly, not many. Most have been lost in my youth.”

“Oh no,” Lister laughed and turned Jimmy’s face upwards to his. “So this just in: my boyfriend is possessive. Fancy that.”

“I’m not, it’s… I am… Oh, you hated Jowan, stop being smug.”

“I know I did, we both know. But jealous Jimmy? That’s a rare sight.”

“It’s just super uncomfortable. It’s all women, as well.”

“Heteronormativity is a bitch,” Lister nodded. He snuggled closer and let out a breath, “Don’t worry though. I am exclusively your problem.”

Jimmy kissed him, smiling. Lister felt lightheaded. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Jimmy’s. He loved this – he loved how much he felt for him after so long they have been together. It never ceased or faded away… because it was Jimmy.

Lister was pretty sure he would love him until his last day on Earth.

It was time to start looking for a ring.

JIMMY

Not much later, they had a team meeting scheduled with all the important people at their recording company that were involved with their tour. Jimmy and Lister announced their intention to come out during the tour, and with Rowan’s full support, it wasn’t too hard to win the producers over. Jimmy had anticipated the PR people would deem it overly risky to their image, but they were fairly chill. As Rowan had put it, “As if anything about The Ark was ever about pandering to conservatives.”

They agreed that their demographic is absolutely different, and before they knew it, they were being ignored while people were exchanging speculations about how it all could help them promote the tour.

“If they do it on, like, the second show…”

“…we could sell some extra tickets after… another wave…”

“…that would probably be a good time to release a single, something related to…”

Jimmy felt something in his chest sink. This is why they left. These people took something good, something from their hearts and souls, and wanted to turn it into money. Some part of him understood, that’s how business works, but mostly, he just felt really sad for them.

“Oi!” Lister exploded over the chatter. “Sorry, but we are still here, and – Could you maybe not act like this coming out is a marketing tactic?!”

The room went briefly silent.

Jimmy squeezed his hand under the table to say a silent thanks. Then he choked out, “That’s not why we’re doing it!”

Their producer looked at them over the top of her reading glasses.

“Of course it’s not, love,” she cooed. “But to say it bluntly, I think you need all the help you can get.”

After many weeks and many briefings, they had agreed on making the announcement on the third show. Right in the middle of tour. Everybody was nervous, expectant, but there was this air of hopefulness when Jimmy and Lister ended up alone together. The glimmer in his partner’s eye when their eyes met promised something… no, it was not living absolutely openly, they still wanted privacy. But it felt like they were sealing something.

This was not an easy coming out.

But they were in for it. Together.

LISTER

“Just so I know,” Rowan said as Lister was trying to take off his Doc Martens with all his might, “what did you tell Jimmy this time?”

“We’re still working on music.”

“We should really make something then, before you go. I am not gonna lie to my childhood best friend, y’know.”

Finally, the boot came off, and Lister got off the little cabinet in Rowan’s hall. Abby was already making tea, and when she saw him walk by the kitchen door, she just nodded at him. Lister smirked at her; she loved pretending to still be mad at him for taking Rowan to a strip club on his stag night. (Or was it dancing on the table at the wedding reception? Anyhow.)

Rowan sat him down in the lounge and started the conversation with: “So. The big reveal is getting closer. How are we feeling?”

“I – great, good. I’m fine, and Jimmy seems to be fine, so yeah, we’re fine.”

“But I assume that’s not what you need help with?”

“You assume right. I will need you to bear with me, though.”

“That sounds interesting,” Rowan retorted and flashed a smile at Abby who was bringing them two steaming mugs of earl gray. “And when I say interesting I mean impending doom, why thank you, Abby!”

“No problem.” She slowly leaned over, careful not to lose balance with her belly, and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be off for my swimming class then. You two behave, will you.”

As she was making her way to the hall, Lister jokingly remarked, “No goodbye kiss for me?”

She stopped in the middle of the room and exchanged a glance with Rowan. Rowan, stirring his tea with a teaspoon, said, “Please don’t kill him, I need him for the concert.”

“Come on, you guys, I was fully kidding. Goodbye, Abby,” he waved to her with a bright smile. “Enjoy your swimming stuff!”

“Thank you, will do.” She disappeared.

“Just a question!” he called after her. She came back with an eyeroll. “Is it, like, harder to swim when you are pregnant? Like, I don’t mean to insult you or anything, I’m just genuinely wondering.”

She, too, put aside her snarky façade for a second. “Actually, I go there because it’s relieving. The water makes you float, so the weight of the baby is taken off my back and legs for a little while.”

“Oh! That’s clever.”

“Thank you. The more you know, am I right?”

“You know what I was just thinking of?”

“Yeah? I really have to go.”

“When you’re swimming, you’re a human submarine for the baby.”

It seemed to take Abby a minute to realize what he was saying. Very slowly, she brought her palm to her forehead.

Rowan then didn’t make it much better by adding, “Since when does a submarine have water inside? That would defeat the purpose.”

Lister thought about it and then gasped. “So… right now, you are a reverse human submarine!”

Abby looked at them both, clearly lost for words. “I’ll just go…” She closed the lounge door behind her.

After a good ten minutes of Rowan half laughing and half chastising Lister for saying the things he says, Lister threw his hands up in the air and claimed they seem to have “traded their sense of humour for a marriage certificate” two years ago.

Rowan immediately followed: “Speaking of marriage, any updates on that? You and…?”

“Well, my friend, that is precisely what we need to talk about today.”

“Okay. The meeting is officially in session, go.”

“First: am I the only one that was really surprised by Jimmy wanting to make us public? Because I really didn’t expect that at all.”

“Yeah, I guess he’s still full of surprises, huh?”

“That he is. However, Ro, I was thinking, and I still want to do a proposal. No – let me finish, it’s not that straightforward. I spent a lot of time talking to Jimmy about what he wants and how he sees the future, and you were super right in saying that I should never put him on the spot like that. Being so exposed to the public when we were kids messed with us in a big way, all of us.”

Rowan snapped his fingers in agreement.

“The idea is… It would be a proposal before a proposal. Like… I don’t know, announcing that I have the intention of proposing to him soon. And asking him if he is okay with that, you know? If he’s okay with the idea of saying yes. That way,” Lister gesticulated with his hands, “he’s not forced right there to say yes, the eventual real proposal can be sort of expected, which would calm him down a bit, but still a surprise, because when is it going to happen? I’m not saying.”

Rowan stared at him for about three seconds. “That was… a whole thing, buddy.”

“Thoughts?”

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. Wait. You want to do a proposal before the actual proposal.”

“Yes.”

“On stage. At the same time you are announcing that the two of you are together?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so. I thought like, more at the end, maybe.”

“Proposal before a proposal…”

“It’s clever, if you think about it.”

“To me, it just seems very extra, Lister. Which I know is your trademark, but –”

“No, but listen. I want to propose to Jimmy. He wouldn’t survive a big flashy proposal, but I still want to make it a big deal, because it is. Ergo, I announce that I want to spend the rest of my stupid little life with him and ask him if it is okay to propose to him one day, likely soon.”

Rowan’ expression changed. “That does make sense,” he said. “For the two of you, especially.”

“Okay then: dear dad, do I have your blessing?”

“Never call me that again. But yes.”

“You are the closest to being a father out of all of us.”

“That is not what it sounds like and you know it.”

JIMMY

The first show was an explosion of feeling and memories. Nauseous with anxiety, burdened with expectation and weak in the knees, Jimmy ran into his first appearance on the stage the same way he would run into the middle of the highway. The lights and screams and colours almost blew him to pieces and then glued him back together. His first words addressed to the crowd and the earth-shattering screams that came in answer woke something in him, a force of nature. The gig was rather small compared to those they ended on ten years ago, but the crowd loved them to pieces and oh, he felt so alive.

The second show was slightly bigger, yes, and their fans didn’t disappoint. Plenty of pride flags were chucked at him, and he waved them and gave them to his mates and it made him even more excited about what him and Lister were going to do the next time round. These people stayed with them for so long, this sea of faces that looked toward him… for many of them, he would be the representation they need, again.

He remembered being a young trans boy, questioning if there is a life, a future, for him. Where were all the queer adults? The trans adults? How could he imagine adult life if he had never seen someone like him live it?

There he was, now. Adult. Gay. Transgender. A lot of time, he still knew very little about what he was doing, but he had a boyfriend who knew equally little, and together, they might be just what some queer kid in the crowd yearns to see.

LISTER

It was D-Day. Christ and Mary, it was, and they were going to say it. Finally. The staff have been informed, the security has been strengthened, they did everything so that some fan wouldn’t try and knock them the fuck out…, but he was still incredibly nervous. Minutes before the show, among all the rush and flourish, he caught Jimmy and pulled him to the side, apologizing to a couple of sound guys securing some cables on the ground.

“How are you doing?” he blurted out.

“I’ll die, but maybe in a good way. You?”

“Same. Or I’ll throw up, in a bad way.”

“Wait really?”

“No, I’m sick, but not the vomiting kind.”

“Anxiety! Welcome to the club!” Jimmy shouted as he was being ushered away under the stage so he could come up on a platform.

More pushing, more ushering, and he stood next to Rowan.

Their intro – a dramatic organ solo as light flashed through the artificial fog like sunbeams ��� was rumbling all around them. The crowd was losing their minds. He didn’t know how, but he still heard Rowan whisper:

“Lister, promise me you won’t do the other thing today!”

“Told you I won’t, stop being patronizing!” he snapped back, but then it was their time, and they were on a stage, coming up from behind Jimmy, each on every side, acting astonished as they supposedly came down from Noah’s Ark onto new land.

Listed dared to put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as they did so.

The show was on.

Here we go.

JIMMY

During the concert, he used every opportunity to interact with the audience that he had. It felt a bit manipulative at first – he wanted them to be up for a bit of talking, eventually – but then the feeling of guilt faded away. However complicated his relationship with the fans used to be, these people were the fans. They stayed loyal to them, they kept their music in their hearts, and came to this revival gig…

It would be okay, okay, okay.

When the last accords of the last song whizzed away into the night and he was thanking the crowd that stomped and cheered and waved signs in hope of an encore… he stopped at the front of the stage. Rowan strummed a few last cords on the guitar and fell silent.

He wished he had somewhere to sit down. His legs were shaking.

But he was not afraid. Not really.

“Now, you guys, these shows are very special for us. Because every single one of you, as we’re standing here and looking at each other, you have been waiting for so long…” His voice was drowned out by cheers. “For so long, you have not forgotten us, you came to our shows, you have been amazingly supportive, and I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart!” He shouted the last few words as the sea of faces roared in joy.

When they calmed down again, he continued. “And because you are the ones that stuck with us… because of that, I would like to say a few things to you.

If you know about the days of my youth…” Pause as people laughed and shouted affirmations at him. “…you would probably remember that I was presumed to be in a relationship with a person that is standing on the stage with me, right now.”

It was good that only a few people cheered. But it made him sick to the stomach, still.

“Okay, no,” Rowan came in, and people applauded, and he pointed at them with a not-so-fake scolding look, “no, no, don’t you woo at me, young lady. This is so utterly not a thing! Jimmy has never left the friendzone!”

“Same here,” Jimmy laughed and patted Rowan across the back, maybe a little too hard, overcompensating. “Did you all, like, miss that Rowan came out as straight all those years ago?”

People were laughing. Nobody really cared, they just found it funny. Rowan claimed he was leaving it to Jimmy before “the PR team has me taken out”, and retreated a few steps, leaving Jimmy to face the crowd again.

Deep breaths, he told himself.

“What I wanted to say was that there was one thing that those people back then got right.” Breathe in, breathe out. “I am gay.”

Two seconds of silence and then an absolute thunderstorm of an applause. A rainbow pride flag landed at his feet and Jimmy took it, with meek laughter, and put it around his shoulders. He heard Rowan cheer and clap too, and for what felt like years, he couldn’t get a word in. He wished the whole world could be like this.

“I – gosh, thank you all, I’m not sure whether it was a surprise,” he finally managed to say, his voice breaking a little from surprise, “but yeah. I am a trans, gay man…” The hall exploded with joyous noise. “…and it’s not all that there is to me, but I’m here. And queer. Hello.”

He thought he was going to pass out. He had a clever segway prepared, but he couldn’t remember a word of it. This was the moment. He wanted to say it, but at the same time… How could he? It was so hard, why do things have to be so hard?

“The other… the second thing,” he said, gripping the pride flag. “It is that… wow, it’s hard. It’s that I am…” He felt himself turn around, and like a lost child call: “Lister?”

Lister climbed out from behind the drum set instantly. Nobody cheered, there were only confused whispers. Jimmy looked at him, asking for help without words, and he knew, as he always did. Jimmy found a place to look, above the crowd, beyond everything, as Lister stepped in and slowly took his hand.

“The second thing is that we are together,” Lister said, his voice steady.

And the crowd lost it.

There were people wailing in happy tears. Screaming at the top of their lungs. A dissonance of chanting their names, all at a different rhythm, before Rowan ran up to them and hugged them and spurred the crowd on, and they stood there wrapped in a pride flag, and Jimmy was kind of crying and leaning on Lister, and it was another half an hour of a pure mess, before they really left the stage with their ears buzzing and eyes wide.

Jimmy and Lister tumbled into a corner somewhere, and Jimmy had happy tears streaming down his cheeks and they were kissing and holding each other and shaking.

“Oh, I’m such a mess,” Jimmy laughed as he was smearing tears and foundation on his sleeve.

“And I love you so much,” Lister blurted out in a moment of raw honesty.

“Me too,” Jimmy took one of his hands and kissed the palm. “I love you so fucking much it’s unreal sometimes.”

LISTER

This was, hands down, the most jittery Lister got before a show. Ever.

Currently, he found himself sat at an old sofa in the dressing room, hands clasped and both legs involuntarily jumping up and down. Was it annoying? Likely. But he had to let his knees jump in such a vigorous way because if he hadn’t, his teeth might start clattering.

He hated that he couldn’t just be pumped and excited. He had to feel this unsettling, buzzing mess of an emotion. Anxiety, as Jimmy informed him. This is what it’s like for an anxious person, he said… except make it all the time and often for no real reason.

Lister shook his head a little.

His reason, too, was basically nothing. He knew. As if Jimmy would actually reject him or something…

Or would he?

Maybe he could? Oh God, maybe he could…

“Hey! You’re actually scaring me, what’s up with you?!”

Lister blinked in confusion. He saw Jimmy as he was making his way over. A half scolding, half worried look decorated his face.

He lowered his voice when he added: “The last time I saw you like this was when you had withdrawal symptoms. You can tell me if that’s what it is.”

“It’s not that. I’m fine,” Lister insisted. Crap, he was panicking too hard to actually come up with anything convincing. Come on, Bird, focus… He’s onto you…

“Actually,” Rowan’s voice travelled to them from the corner, “I just think we had weird coffee.”

“What? But you’re fine.”

“Yeah, well,” Rowan continued to make up a story, “we both got one, but I didn’t like the taste, it was too strong. Lister felt bad for throwing them out so he finished both of them, didn’t you?”

“Ye-Yes,” he finally caught on. Had to admit, Ro was impressive at this. Lister started to believe what their friend used to say: that he can lie very well, he just chooses not to. “I didn’t want to waste it. The coffee.”

“Lister,” Jimmy grunted in disbelief, hands on his hips. “That was a brilliant idea, you walnut! Look at yourself, you’re gonna be sick now!”

“I’m not.”

“You look it.”

“I’m just…” He rubbed his clammy hands together. “I’m just anxious I guess.”

“Well, no shit. Why do you think I avoid caffeine?” Jimmy sighed and dropped into a squat in front of Lister. He took Lister’s hands in his. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not gonna have a heart attack, are you?”

“No, babe. I’m alright.” The last thing he wanted was for his boyfriend to be anxious too.

He looked down at Jimmy. The realization dawned on him, as he noticed that his partner dropped onto one of his knees to be more comfortable; very soon, the roles will be reversed. It will be Lister down on one knee, only Jimmy would be standing up in that case…

Okay.

Wow.

This is what true internal screaming felt like.

“You need water, as in now,” Jimmy decided and jumped up. “I’ll need you to drink at least three glasses before we start, that should help.”

He rushed out of the room to get hands on some water. Rowan and Lister looked at each other, the pretence gone.

“Alright?” Rowan nodded.

“I’m fucking choking, dude,” Lister replied.

It almost looked as if his friend was going to give him advice, or maybe say something generic and calming… but instead, Rowan let out a small laugh. Lister’s lips started twisting without him giving the command.

And then the two collapsed laughing. The pressure of this being the very last show and the knowledge of what Lister was about to do at the end of it were just the right recipe for hysterics.

Jimmy didn’t bother to ask twice what the joke was, as long as they promised they weren’t laughing at him.

-----------------------------------

As the concert was coming to an end and the crowd was cheering and chanting for an encore, Rowan seized the opportunity and called: “Alright, friends, we would like to indulge you in a little experiment! Can you join me at the front, Lister?”

Lister got out from behind the drum set and jogged to meet the rest of the group. Jimmy smiled, but his eyes studied both of them suspiciously. “What is this?”

Lister lazily raised his arms with the palms of his hands towards the crowd. “I have to admit, we kind of didn’t tell Jimmy what this is about. Sorry, my guy.” People laughed. Rowan signalled someone backstage, as Lister added: “But just so you don’t feel left out, you can have this triangle.” A nervous assistant handed Jimmy the instrument and ran off again.

Everybody was jeering and whistling, but there was an air of anticipation in the air.

“Oh wow, that’s generous of you,” Jimmy grimaced.

“I know, right? Anyhow.” Lister took a step forward, trying to calm himself. He could do this. He had acting jobs, he could absolutely pull this off.

He was Lister freaking Bird! He was the fan favourite!

“Dear audience, allow me to tell you a tale,” he addressed the crowd in his best narrator voice. A couple of screams rose from the crowd, but everyone else was listening intently. Behind him, Rowan started strumming a little melody on his guitar – one they created especially as a backdrop to Lister’s talk.

“I know this is a little unusual,” Lister admitted to the sea of people, “I know that you’re used to stories coming to you via this man’s voice,” he pointed at Jimmy, “and this man’s lyrics.” Rowan. “I know that I am just a simple drummer in this arrangement. But today, I will do the voice and the words. Because, well… Talking all the time is the one thing I am actually good at.”

That made the crowd laugh. Good. Great.

“But now, on with the story!” he exclaimed and made a motion with his hands as if he was showing them a canvas.

“Picture this. We are all fifteen, stuffed into a tiny studio in London,” he smiled, as if nostalgic. His voice flowed out of him in a steady melody, like the hum of a river. “We all had that awkward long hair phase – yes, I see some true veterans in the audience today. Good,” he smiled at a couple of girls in the front who seemed to know exactly which haircuts he meant. He raised his hands again. “I am sitting outside the recording room, behind the glass. On the other side, there’s Jimmy. I can see him clearly, I hope you can too,” he said, keeping his dreamy smile. “The giant black hoodie. The fringe almost hiding his eyes. Jimmy waits for the cue, bouncing up and down,” he chuckled as he swayed up and down on his toes, “and then starts singing the interlude in our first album. It’s only about two lines that we need to record, but I remember wishing it lasted longer. Obviously. Because his voice is amazing.”

The audience started yelling and swooning at once. Lister was honestly more okay looking at them than if he had to look at Jimmy and see what his reaction is.

Now, here comes the real cliché.

“But then,” he paused with real embarrassment in his voice, “then he looked up from under his hair… at me, with those big brown eyes… and asked me, if he was okay.”

Breathe in, and:

“My friends, that was the moment I have fallen for Jimmy Kaga-Ricci.”

A roar of screams started rising from the audience, when Rowan strummed dramatically on the guitar, as if something tragic had happened. Lister shot a look at Jimmy and found him laughing. Surprised, but amused.

Thank fuck. I’ve never told him that before.

On the outside, he theatrically turned to Rowan and scolded him: “I was just getting sentimental here?”

Rowan shrugged and strummed a more positive jingle. Everyone laughed and clapped. Lister was starting to enjoy this, actually. He sighed and walked forward onto a prolonged platform where Jimmy was usually stood on.

“Well, maybe my trusty assistant was right with the sound effects,” he admitted jovially. “Because my crush absolutely did not like me back for years. Hey, but that’s not to throw shade at the guy,” he added quickly to prevent any pitiful reaction that would make Jimmy feel bad. “Because you have to consider that I was and still am a bloody mess of a person.” That amused the listeners. Lister turned round, as he exclaimed. “I am the creator of problems, the maker of terrible decisions. We can all agree that Jimmy is a lovely lad…” He had to pause for the overwhelming reaction in support of that statement. “Yes, he is, but inflicting my teenage self upon him, that would just not be right.”

Jimmy suddenly clanked the metal stick against the triangle in an absolute cacophony to draw attention to himself. “Excuse me,” he called to Lister, “could you stop insulting yourself? I would enjoy that.”

A girl somewhere below them screamed as if she was getting murdered. They exchanged a quick glance, as if to say a little yikes, but then Lister laughed it off.

“Sorry, sorry,” he continued. “Through it all, Jimmy was always here for me. He was one of my first real friends. He was understanding when I needed it most, and ready to kick my ass when I needed it most.” He smiled at his boyfriend and hoped his voice is not shaking. “Look at you, Jimmy! I’m being embarrassing in front of hundreds of people and you still haven’t walked off stage.”

Jimmy laughed and lightly hit the triangle. He was ever the professional, but his eyes glimmered in curiosity. Expectation.

Lister kept looking at him. Rowan was strumming a slightly different melody now, and if Lister did say so himself, the atmosphere was fucking perfect.

“What I want to say is…, I feel that we were together before we got together. We were always partners. A great team. Maybe you wouldn’t think the same,” he admitted to Jimmy, “but a girl can dream. Oh! A rhyme!” He exclaimed to a symphony of awwws and ooohs. People were laughing again, clapping here and there. “That will be the only time!” Lister made a face of feigned shock. “Or not? Wow, I’m unpredictable!”

“You’re hot,” Jimmy rhymed with unexpected confidence.

The crowd was screaming their heads off at this interaction. Even Lister was a little flustered. He came back to his bandmates and gestured toward Jimmy, who was still smirking a little. “And he can improv, what’s not to like, honestly!”

Now, there came the challenge. Lister took a deep breath and prayed to all deities that were listening for this to come off as more sweet than cringy.

His voice fell into a different rhythm. One he kept studying every possible minute from any good slam poetry or original poem reading he could find online.

“But now, if our audience permits,” he put one hand on his chest, turning directly to Jimmy, “I would like to address you. Because, dear Jimmy, although I love each face in the crowd, my friends, my family, those that are both… I can state loud and proud that the biggest part of my heart goes to you.” He grinned sheepishly at Jimmy’s stunned expression, when he added: “If not all of it.”

“I can only guess what goes on in that mind, whether you think this is suspicious or kind… I can’t know these things. But there is one thing I do know. That no matter how much we grow, what we lose and what we gain, through all the smiles and all the pain, I will love you. It’s as big and as small as this. And today was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. So, nobody panic, stay in your seats. It’s not what it looks like.”

He got down on one knee in front of his boyfriend.

Jimmy gasped in sync with the audience: “Lister!” He backed away.

“Oh no, mister, don’t panic,” Lister retorted. That managed to amuse Jimmy a little – that he would know this would be the reaction. The audience was still going absolutely wild. Another pride flag just about missed Lister’s left ear.

“As I said, it’s not what it looks like. And I’m sick of rhyming by now, so…” He reached for Jimmy’s hand. Pulled it down to his by the triangle and encouragingly pressed a thumb into his palm. “I wanted to tell you – in a way that means something – that I don’t see myself living my life with anyone but you. So I have a question. Can you imagine me proposing in the near future?”

Jimmy looked like he suddenly couldn’t speak any human language. The only thing that came from his open lips was: “Huh?”

He was trying not to panic. To explain it well. Better than he had to Rowan.

“I would like to start talking about marriage. With you. I’m asking your permission to… go pick out a ring, perhaps. And propose to you. One day.”

“You want to…” He was trying so hard to make sense of this situation. Lister could almost hear the wheels in his brain clanking and whirring. After a second, Jimmy blurted out about the last thing Lister expected. “You really want to marry me?”

He had to laugh. That sounded so bizarre! You have the wrong number, I don’t think you want to marry me, of all people. As if.

Covering Jimmy’s hand with both of his own, he answered: “Who else, Jimmy?”

As there was no instant reply, Lister felt the audience grow impatient.

This was the time to smooth things out. Make it amusing.

“Okay, I don’t want to stress you out. You can just think about it,” he ensured his partner. But I just wanted to let you know my, er, intentions.” Wow, great choice of words, Bird. But was there any better? He decided to make fun of himself a little when he sarcastically added: “Because this is the regency era, apparently.”

People were losing it. However, Lister was only looking at Jimmy now… and realized that the eyes of his boyfriend were welling up with tears as he looked down. Were they happy or sad tears? Shit.

“Oh…” Lister managed to say, when Jimmy dropped the triangle on the floor with a thud and shakily took Lister’s face into his soft palms.

His voice was trembling with emotion, as he answered:

“Allister Bird, I would love to marry you. I don’t think you even need to propose again.”

Before Lister could even register what he meant, Jimmy leaned down and gently pressed a kiss at his forehead. This was probably as close to kissing in public as Jimmy would ever allow.

Lister finally realized. He realized.

At the same time, Jimmy dropped down and Lister shot up. They embraced each other tightly, a mess of crumpled clothes and limbs and teary laughing, and Lister almost lifted Jimmy off the ground as he was happy-crying into the shorter man’s shoulder.

They heard Rowan screaming at the top of his lungs: “HE SAID YES, PEOPLE!” His voice was drowned out by the massive storm of excited screams that wouldn’t seize for good twenty minutes after.

But Lister and Jimmy didn’t really pay attention.

Paradoxically, although everyone could see them – and everyone would see them, as the news probably already travelled through the internet at the speed of light – it felt like this moment was theirs alone.

[thewatercolours]

4, 5, 8, 11, 14, 18, and 19 for the writers ask meme, if that’s not too many :D

(Thank you for the ask! I'm going to lean more into my original writing than my fic for this one, I think.)

4. Boom! The witch’s curse means that you can only ever write about one of the characters you written about before… ever again. Which character will you hang on to?

Oh dear! Let's start with the most heart-wrenching question on the list, why don't we? Where are witch-killing knights when you need them?

But if I had to choose, if I were forced to choose, if there were no other way but to... Tie between clever juggler Noemie Gardeine and irrepressible [redacted for spoilers] Alain Renaud, both of whom are from my WIP The Brilliant Hour, a story set in a walled city somewhat inspired by my fascination with Revolutionary/Napoleonic Paris. (I'll write a little blurb on each of them at the bottom of the post so as not to make this first answer overlong.)

5. If you could some of the superpowers of other writers for a day (whether traditional or fic), who would you steal from and what abilities would you take?

I have actually thought about this one before! Chesterton and Lewis's clarity and ability to infuse truth in every page, Frances Hardinge's insanely outside-the-box premise and plotting abilities, Bernard Shaw's remarkable skill with dialogue, especially the characterful witty sort (and also may Katherine Addison for her ability to wrench the heart with a single, simple line of dialogue,) and Brandon Sanderson's sheer speed and productivity.

8. Is music part of your writing process?

Often. Aside from the innate pleasure and creative quality of having music in the background, auditory stimulus is a lifesaver for my ADHD. I do love the thought that goes into crafting an overthunk WIP or character-specific playlist, but I also love just turning on some random folk or classical or soundtrack and seeing where the mood takes me.

14. What’s a trope/type of situation you love playing around with in your writing?

Historical-feeling settings that technically qualify as fantasy but don't feel like it. Characters who had been through the wringer of suffering but choose joy anyway, not out of denial or to hide their grief from others, but because joy is such an authentic part of who they are, aside from their trauma, that they cling to it lest they lose another part of themselves. Royalty - yeah, I'm one of those people who has to bring royalty into it. Comedy interludes where the stakes are so high but things are just getting more and more farcical for the characters. Verbal duels of wits. Dancing scenes.

18. What’s on your writing bucket list?

Write a small-cast play, pull some of my drama friends together to bring it to life, and then enter it as a production in the Fringe Festival. Get fifty rejections and keep them in a shoe box to represent the effort I put in. Redeem a passage that I thought was an unsalvageable mess. Write a really fantastic children's book on Canadian history. Write in the corner of a pub in Oxford. Write in a cafe near the Spanish Steps in Rome (who am I kidding - if I got to go to Rome again, I wouldn't spend a moment of it writing. I'd just go about soaking up Rome. But if I put this on my bucket list, it means I theoretically get to go back to Rome.) Go housesit somewhere with a writing friend and do a writing retreat together overnight. Hear someone gifted at reading aloud doing just that with a story of mine.

19. If you could have a wish related to your writing come true, what would it be? (And don’t use this question to put yourself down!)

(whispers) To publish a novel I truly put my heart into, that would help someone get through a difficult time in their life because they latched on to whatever goodness, truth, and beauty I could magnify in it. AMDG, JJ.

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Bonus: Blurbs of Noemie and Alain, the two characters I'd hang on to.

Noemie is a fourteen-year-old vagabond juggler who's been scrimping and sacrificing only just escaping many a narrow shave the last couple of years, all to rustle up sufficient money to pay her father's way out of prison before the deadline condemns him to something more permanent. One chase scene later, and one burst bag of coins raining down on a crowd of greedy festival revelers, and she loses all of it mere days before the deadline. Desperation forces her down a very strange path from there on. I love her pluck, the strange ways she shows her love and loyalty, and her unique views on helping people for no reason.

Alain is a young man Noemie meets in the crowd at a public execution.. Just before the hangman can throw the prisoner off the wall, he whispers something in the magistrate's ear. The magistrate's eye widen, and he issues quiet orders to the captain of the guard. Soldiers disperse through the crowd, pulling young men aside - all young men of a similar physical type, dressed in blue with red festival masks. "They're looking for someone in particular," Noemie thinks, jsut as she feels a tap on her soldier, and finds a terrified young man in blue with a red mask clawing it off his face and whispering, "Give me your mask. As much as you like for it. Forty. Fifty! Just be quick and give it here!" And thus Alain enters into the story. I love him for his sense of duty to his family that may or may not even be alive, his warm and kind-hearted banter, and all the ideas he has to bravely give up to face the truth.

Don't make me pick between them.

(Ask meme here)

[azucanela]

being zuko’s s/o would include hcs?

BEING ZUKO’S S/O [GENDER NEUTRAL!READER]

BEING KORRA’S S/O | BEING SOKKA’S S/O

SUMMARY: being zuko’s s/o from the confession to the weddin’ [say this but make it rhyme the way those singers do ya know]

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: kissing, very mildly implied nsfw, soft zuko, a dragon

A/N: these are gonna be extensive bc there is no scenario but if you want whole fics there are like 6342 zuko fics coming since everyone is a zuko simp. also wow this is really long um i hope its what you wanted!

GETTING INTO THE RELATIONSHIP

you guys have probably known each other a long time, because homebody does not fall for just anyone, so if you become the object of his affections, you better feel HONORED. hehe honored 

i feel like it takes him a lot of time to actually accept his feelings for you are beyond platonic. the main reason he falls for you is probably your consistency in his life since thats something he tends to lack. like his mom? gone. his dad? kicked him out of the only place he ever knew. his life is filled with major changes so if you guys have known each other since childhood then consistency is key

once he realizes he likes you he kinda panics because what if you don’t accept him? what if you leave? even worse, what if you leave because he likes you? so now he’s panicking, and naturally, as one does, Zuko avoids his problems. You, being the problem. And his emotions, but he is in denial so

definitely talks to his uncle about the two of you A LOT, especially when he is first figuring out his feelings and trying to figure out what to do about them

his uncle is an elite wingman, constantly tries to get the two of you to be alone in the same space or get information out of you in regards to you

when it comes to confessing i can see a few situations

situation one is that zuko confesses completely by accident, freaks out, disappears, avoids you even more, like homie is a mess. after you get fatally injured, or maybe when he thinks you are asleep, or he just kinda blurts it out in conversation when you guys are doing something domestic. regardless, it is entirely by accident, and now zuko is freaking the heck out. 

“i really like this tea.”

“i really like you.”

“excuse me-”

“i goTTA GO FEED MY DRAGOn Y/N!”

“you don’t have a dragon!”

so that’s how zuko gets his dragon from LOK, storytime over

you kinda have to find him and get a word in before he runs off because he is really scared of rejection, he doesn’t want you to leave and assumes that if the situation is never addressed then you can’t leave woohoo problem solved. 

his uncle yells at him lol

when you corner him you gotta confess super fast and handle his anxieties because he is super worried about you hating him now even though it is the opposite. 

“please don’t leave me.”

“i’m not gonna leave my boyfriend.”

“your- your what?”

“we are dating now. i like you, you like me, so we are dating.”

situation two is equally chaotic, but far less dancing around the feelings since you confess! congrats! you have more balls than me! im so proud! good job bb!

when you confess, its probably late at night, a comfortable silence between the two of you, or maybe he’s ranting about something, like how dumb the concept of tea is idk. regardless this is DOMESTIC, so it’s soft and cute and you are just like you know what screw it this nerd is so easily flustered by me maybe he likes me back! look at us cuddling like a couple! might as well make it official!

zuko.exe error, not working

you broke him good job. 

he externally panics and internally congratulates himself while panicking. he is very shocked you feel that way for him because he is an oblivious boy. 

“honestly, i don’t understand why my uncle likes those flavored water leaves so much-”

“i don’t understand why i’m in love with you.”

“WHAT.”

if y’all were cuddling on a bed or smth he THROWS YOU OFF BY ACCIDENT SKJDHJFHKHWJKF oopsie, he just gets up so quickly that you kinda go tumbling.

homie literally asks you why so naturally you gotta start listing all of these reasons why because hes like perfect and beautiful and yeah we all love him a lot :D marry me zuko <3

you gotta give him a hot minute to process all the information you just gave him, he is in shock for a short while, kinda just sitting there confused. once it gets through his thick skull that you like him he’s gonna thank you 💀

then he’ll ask you how you wanna handle this and boom you have a boyfriend now good job! 

DURING THE RELATIONSHIP

dating during a war is hard so when y’all first start dating, probably towards the end of the war when he finally joins the Gaang, its gonna be really chaotic and you guys are still gonna be sorting through everything, like what kinda couple do you wanna be? neither of you know

kisses are rare during this time, especially since zuko is a generally private person who doesn’t really do PDA much, especially since he wants to avoid teasing and judgement from others. he’s a real people pleaser at the end of the day, he literally spent three years of his life looking for someone the world thought just disappeared permanently because he wanted his dad’s validation.

when you two do kiss, it tends to be a night in your shared tent, even then Zuko is weary of Toph’s seismic senses.

his kisses tend to be soft and sensual, he really just wants to take his time and enjoy it. however, bb does have a temper so you can expect some spice on occasion when he gets frustrated.

this comes later on in the relationship, once the war is resolved, but that just brings about new problems! like having to deal with the new fire lord who is always busy as your boyfriend!

especially at the beginning, when he’s newly crowned and everything is busy and new and he’s struggling with being organized, he rarely has time for you. however, you are likely his right hand, main advisor, general, whatever your area of expertise is he will find you a position in the castle, unless you tell him you want to stay out of politics. though, deep down, he wants to give you a position so he can spend time with you

once things calm down and he’s got being fire lord in the bag, he starts blocking in time during his day to actually take you out on dates and stuff

at one point just disappears for the whole day with you and everyone thinks he’s been kidnapped until they realize you aren’t around either

that’s not very responsible of you guys smh you have a nation to run 

is soft with you, though zuko’s temper definitely lessened when he became Fire Lord, but it no doubt shows itself sometimes, but never with you

well need your assurance sometimes because he gets insecure

like why is the beautiful amazing intelligent woman dating me i do not understand what the heck why have you not left me yet

knock some sense into him

also gets worried that he is a horrible ruler and wants you to tell him that he in fact does his job very well

did you forget you helped end a war zuko?

kiss. his. scar. give him love, its one of few physical parts of himself that he is insecure about and if you kiss him there he might start crying because wow intimacy didn’t know what that was

speaking of intimacy, he is a touch starved boy so when you start giving him love do not stop, never deprive him of cuddles he gets grumpy

lol play volleyball with him

very domestic??? like his parents highkey did not like eachother so now he just wants to hold your hand, lay with you in the morning, wake up to your pretty face, and just cuddle with you while you read aloud 

overall you two are a power couple and zuko simps for you 25/8 you rule as a team and he values you and your opinion VERY much, tries to take you out as often as he can despite his VERY demanding job, and expresses his love to the best of his ability

MARRIAGE N STUFF

zuko took the throne YOUNG he was like 16, so he is not proposing until y’all are at least adults, but i imagine that he is probably gonna wanna date you for like at least three years before proposing

he wants to make sure you are there to stay even if you’ve been around since childhood

there are two ways he is gonna propose here

situation one is where he kinda just does it,,, randomly? like out of nowhere he realizes that w o w he wants to marry you, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you and dedicate everything to you because you are HIS forever person

so he’s kinda just laying with you in the morning, nice soft kisses here and there, will not let you leave the bed and you are definitely complaining, especially if you have a position in the palace and need to get to work

regardless its a soft moment, there’s light filtering in through the window in your shared room, and its shining on your face, and yeah you are lowkey a mess because its the morning but you are just,, so,, beautiful??

and you start telling him about your plans for the, playing with his hair and stuff, and he’s listening to his heartbeat when he breaks from your hold and looks up at you and is just like

“marry me.”

“we also need to feed your dragon- wait what”

you are kinda just in shock for a moment, so you sit up and look at him, mouth gaping open like

“are you serious?”

he suddenly realizes he doesn’t have a ring and it is 7AM in the morning and it is not the best time for this

“...yes”

now you are laughing, falling back onto the pillows, and maybe there’s a tear in your eye as you nod rapidly, “okay, yes.”

now you are thinking of the fake story you are gonna tell people when they asked how he proposed because you are NOT saying it was in bed at 7AM while you were looking like a whole mess

“yes? yes as in yes you will marry me? are you serious?” 

such an idiot, but he’s cute its okay

you kiss him and its passionate and adorable, and he kisses back but he quickly breaks apart and is like “you’re sure? because i don’t have a ring-”

“how have you successfully run a country.”

“good thing you are gonna join me on the throne i suppose.”

“oh my god you’re right-”

“you aren’t reconsidering are you?”

“NO.”

have fun being the fire god woo

now y’all go back to making out and traumatize whatever advisor comes to check on you because they’re like where are the people who rule this country??? 

situation two is where he has been carrying around the ring for MONTHS but is looking for the perfect time to propose because you are perfect so this must be perfect

he couldn’t sleep and in the middle of the night he was like WELP I WANNA GET ENGAGED and kinda just decided he was gonna marry you

since you were asleep he couldn’t ask you right then and these

confides in the gaang and everyone is super excited

now he’s been walking around with this ring for months and what is he supposed to do now oh god

the gaang is like stop procrastinating bro, just ASK HER, and hes like NO IT NEEDS TO BE PERFECT

they help him set up the palace courtyard and make it all nice, there are lanterns, and candles, and a path of rose petals, and this time around he does have a ring so yes its great

he’s like hey let’s go for a walk! and you’re like okay??? lol

so you two are walking around the palace, holding hands, when he leads you to the courtyard and you are just like DAMN this is romantic AND pretty

“i think we are interrupting Zuko let’s leave”

“what do you mean interrupting-”

“well someone clearly put in a lot of effort!”

“that someone is me!”

:O

its not that he isn’t romantic its just that he’s never done something like this so now you’re confused

“did i forget our anniversary?”

“no.”

NOW you understand, looking around, you turn back to him to find that he’s on one knee, you two are in front of the pond with the turtleducks and wow it must be raining why is there water on your face? haha...

he tells you he loves you and that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and how he hopes he never loses you because you are just so vital to his life and his being and everything he’s done to make this world a better place has been for you and damn zuko you wonder if he got possessed

obviously you agree

and obviously something goes wrong

when he stands you tackle him with a hug and you two fall into the pond

oops 

the wedding[disclaimer: i have never been to a wedding so i do not know what happens in weddings, feel free to educate me pls] is either REALLY intimate and private, or really big and stuff, since you gotta go through that whole coronation process now and like public weddings n stuff

no matter what his uncle is the one who walks you down the aisle.

change my mind.

you cant. 

the intimate one is almost similar to eloping, probably happens in the court yard where he proposed, and you are wearing a AMAZING outfit, whether its a tux, an amazing dress, a jumpsuit, you gonna look FIRE

hehe fire

anyways it’ll probably be the people who fought with him in the war, the gaang, the white lotus, kyoshi warriors, maybe a few others, 

its a really nice ceremony, and the courtyard is decorated so beautifully, though Zuko considered putting a fence around the pond considering what happened when he proposed lol

if its a more public wedding, then its going to feel like the entire Fire Nation came to watch y’all get married, much more flashy, there’s a band performance, a banquet, y’all gotta use the ballroom so that everyone can dance 

kinda nerve wracking ngl

regardless, after you two get married nothing really changes because you always acted like an old married couple, and even as the other ruler of the fire nation, you always had an important job in the palace so its kinda just the same but more official

its a vibe

moral of the story is zuko is a simp for you and your marriage is mutual simping, that is all

A/N: i kinda went off ngl, also im about to hit 200 followers and i feel as though i should do something special so i am taking suggestions pls

taglists[lmk if you wanna be added or removed :D]

zuko: @shawni-h @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @outerxorbit

permanent: @chewymoustachio