#so i ended up with three different versions of this set in my drafts without liking any of them

[thii-nii]

"Don't give my time to others." "You, too. Don't give mine to others."

I Told Sunset About You (2020) Episode Two.

[ctimenefic]

sorry it’s me again with another deranged notification!! i can’t stop thinking about three’s a crowd like…… I would devour any morsel about that universe……… alex and george’s childhood together?? or when george was the voice in alex’s head and then… 😵‍💫 and/or would love to hear about how you conceived of this fic bc it’s soooo well-crafted!!!

three's a crowd, like almost everything I write now, came from me haranguing @latecomersprivilege in Tumblr DMs, a format that is ludicrously hard to search/look back on. I simply cannot scroll back until March I will die A LIE, I did it, it took like fifteen earth minutes but I have the origin and it is THIS POST. I saw it at the end of February and immediately sent to her with "Why is this George-coded?" And from there I spitballed an idea that is pretty much 90% accurate to the fic as it is today, but without the bones of the reveal and with a slightly different ending, plus an epilogue that I have drafted, but which didn't really fit in the final version.

I left just that concept in my bunnies doc for a good four months to marinade, and then when @motorsport-halloween got announced I realised that it fit the theme, and my brain had rotated the thought enough for me to have a crack at writing it. I can't work on one thing at once, so I managed it in dribs and drabs alongside other stuff basically right up until the deadline and @latecomersprivilege had to endure so much caterwauling from me about it, and was the kindest, most patient nursemaid while I threw myself about the room like a frantic Victorian infant.

The response has been utterly confounding to me in the best possible way. Three days ago I genuinely believed the story didn't work.

Below are some very garbled thoughts on George as the guy in the chair. Spoilers etc.

So I envisioned something like a centralised command centre for 'superheroes' and their support squads. Let's call it the Parahuman Intervention Team. It'd be slightly worn in, not quite squeaky superhero clean and neat, kind of like an NGO going slightly off the boil. George isn't the only person on Alex's squad, but he's been there since the beginning. He was the first person to suggest Alex was special, when they were kids. The rest of the squad support Alex in the field, but he's the guy in the chair, eyes on everything. Subconsciously modelling himself on Q in Skyfall and enduring Alex's teasing about it. His set up would be at least five monitors, close to surround sound, trying to get Alex to wear at least four more sensors and cameras in his suit than anyone else thinks is necessary for the data.

He'd have his own space, away from the main lab, so that his focus can be total during missions, no distractions. Of course, that means on the day it happens, there's about 45 seconds before anyone can make it through bulletproof glass into George's space, shut off the sound of screaming and force his eyes away from the 4K high definition mess.

[blucassiopeia]

Falling Stars

the universe grants wishes to selfless hopefuls.

contents of this chap : fluff fluff esp at the end, a bit of angst, fem!reader, reader!twin of tsukishima kei, reader has to-be-revealed illness, anxious!reader, usage of first names, full names on mention are in lastname-firstname (japanese custom), japanese honorifics and vocabs present, HAIKYUU setting and vball jargons, pre-timeskip, character build-up, mentions of blood

warnings ⚠️ : English is not the author's first language. This fic has a draft Wattpad version. I do not own Haikyuu, its characters, plots and settings. Everything you see different here from the anime-manga is a becoming of my fictional world.

"Blue" for texts and chats. "Green" for calls. "Orange" for memory prompts. "White" for background convos that are audible to the reader.

wc : 12,153 words

Cassie : it may be a bit boring but it's the plot im taking soー ENJOY!

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Saitama Skies

"And it's even correct!! It's correct!!"

Oh my God. Anyone won't know how frustrated you were when you saw the damn exam papers. Oh my God. You wanna go and grab someone's hair right now. Oh my God.

Kei was already chuckling when he heard the results. Even more when he saw it. Tadashi was in your left, sighing and didn't know what to do to help. Tobio and Shoyo was leaning on the window totally void of anything. Are they still breathing?

"And that's how the two of you have to attend the supplementary lessons."

"Shut up, Kei!" You wallowed more to Tadashi, hitting your forehead on his shoulder as he took Tobio's paper from you to see. "They've worked so hard! We've worked so hard!"

"Now, all you can do is beg to the Principal. Although, it'll probably be useless."

You wanna grab Kei's hair then and there with his teasing and blunt tone. You turned to him, about to smack him out of frustration when the three of you noticed that the human subjects of discussion were already nowhere to be found in their initial positions.

"Where'd they go?"

"Probably out to do something stupid for Sawamura-san to explode later."

You closed your eyes in frustration and the mannerism went on. You felt a hard flick on your forehead and you glared at Kei.

"Everything will be alright. Don't stress too much." Tadashi said as he rubbed and massaged your shoulders.

But that's not it. What if they can'tーNo, no. You can't lose hope in them. Butー!! Kei's flinching and Owws were heard throughout the hallway that lunch. "Yes, that's a way to de-stress, Y/n."

But it just came back after that long day at Sakanoshita storeーthe new after-school tutor location. Chikara let them repeat the same questions for their failed tests and they just got lower scores than their original ones.

The second years and Tadashi were ready to help Tobio and Shoyo reach their maximum effort to pass the supplementary test. You had no choice but to help too because as what Coach Ukai said, We can't function well without the Stupid Quartet, and that includes these two. Though Kei don't like the thought of you stressing out while tutoring the duo, he stays as long as he wants just to be with you, making sure Tadashi will be the one to drop you home once he decides to go home first. Not even making an effort to help. Ugh!

Tobio and Shoyo were too thankful for the help of the team, excluding Kei's blunt remarks of course. The third years were busy enough for their own tests but they did spare time to check up on the situation, leaving the tutorial leadership to Chikara.

It dragged on for days and the weekend is nearing. They're improving little by little, putting more effort than they can, pressuring themselves. Well, you can't achieve something without pressure when it comes to cram-school. In between breaks, they would come to your classroom and try-out the exam again with you and Tadashi reevaluating their papers.

"Okay, stop your pens." You declared one time when you're all back at the store.

You got their papers, handed one to Chikara and evaluated their answers, your eyes twitching at Shoyo's wrong answers. You can feel the tension in them while waiting for the both of you to finish. When done, you deadpanned at Shoyo and handed him his paper, together with Chikara to Tobio. You watched their reaction drop at the sight of their scores, and you whined incoherently with them.

"Sorry, Y/n-san, everyone. Eventhough you worked so hard for us." Shoyo's dejected and void of all emotions as he muttered, Tobio immobilized at his own seat. "I guess I'll try my best at cycling to Tokyo."

You glanced at Kei that had his lips scrunched to the side watching the duo's scene.

"You can't give up! You can do it!"

"That's right! Let's continue!"

"It's useless, they're totally broken."

Kei sighed at your sight, brows creasing more. He slowly approached the duo and picked their papers.

"And here I thought of how well both of you can do, but it's just this much."

You saw Tobio and Shoyo flinched at his words while still in their dejected state. You flickered your eyes nervously at Kei, noting that this is not the time for his talent. He took a disappointing look at the papers.

"To be stumped by such textbook level questions, you are beyond saving."

"Kei!" You scream-whisper his name, eyes widened with worry as all of you in the store were looking at your twin, except for the two subjects that's still flinching in annoyance and embarassment.

He smirked and chuckled as he looked straight into your eyes. "The answers are all in the passage for Modern Lit, it should be nice to be a simpleton for a king like you, huh, Ou-sama?ー" Tobio was flinching hard in his seat at the words, burning red ears illiciting. "ーand isn't English just a language? Oh, but I guess it's impossible for a monkey to learn such language huh?" He continued, not breaking eye contact. And you're getting his motives, his point. You bit your lip, you can't smile. Shall not. This was his way of helping all along.

He placed the papers on the table. "Ah, it seems like it'll be a fulfilling and peaceful Tokyo training camp without you both. Ah, so grateful." He walked to the doors and you pouted. He's leaving already? "Then, I'll be going first~" And he closed the doors nonchalantly and walked home.

That fauxing blunt twin!

But thanks to those words of his that Tobio and Shoyo got more motivated to pass the supplemental exams.

﹆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・

You were lost in those scenes that happened just days ago when you heard gasps and your name getting screamed at. And then you felt it, square to your face.

They scrambled towards you, the referee whistling for a time-out, but all you see are black spots over the ball on your feet. You feel hot liquid dragging to your nostrils, metallic as it tastes on your lips and mouth. You see red spots on your white shirt before you realized what had happened. You blinked rapidly as you felt the pain coursing through your torso you have to scrunch your face and hunch forward to control it, it made you breathless.

"Y/n, towー"

"Hey, I didn't mean to."

A new voice sounded in your ear. You tried to look up but the pain is prohibiting you to do past a shallow breath. You saw a pair of white shoes with dark gray streaks in front of you and it was covered immediately when the owner squatted in, peeking at your face.

"I'm sorry."

Golden dilated orbs met yours as they blinked with concern, then it changed to wonder. You're achingly aware that there were voices around you but now, it seemed muffled. The pain in your torso subsided until it reduced to a beating tolerable pain at a concentrated point in your back. And you're achingly more aware that you're staring, given that his lips were moving as if he was talkーwhat

"I'm fine. It's okay." Your voice triggered the muffled voices to normalize and you're back on the court. You looked everywhere but his eyes.

"You sure? Can I check your nose?" Your rapid blinking reoccured and you slowly straightened your back, careful not to feel the pain again that's subsiding in your back. Your eyes shot to his hand closing the gap to your face when Tadashi stepped in between, hand shielding your face.

"Please, don't touch her senpai. Sh-She'sー" You can't look up to him for you're vigilant of your movements but you felt him glance at you. The hand of the golden-eyed player stuttered in the air and was drawn back to himself, glazing golden eyes still training on your face.

"Shimizu-san, Kinnoshita-san. Can you please take her to wash her face and to where her things are? And please don't touch her yet." Your throat whined at Kei's low voice in your back. It's so low that you felt everyone around tensed, you closed your eyes.

You felt Kei's breathe in your ear as he whispered, "Don't daze out during practices. It's in your bag. Go, be careful. Yamaguchi and I won't be with you."

You opened your eyes just to find the golden eyes still staring at you in concern, flickering to you and Kei. Then you noticed his gray brows, his sweating forehead and his hair. You blinked twice.

"Let's go, Y/n-chan? Your nose is really bleeding."

You tore up your gaze and focused on standing up, reluctant, but you successfully acted on with no responsive pain. The golden-eyed player stood from his knees too, towering over you and keeping distance from you as you were followed by Hisashi to the washroom, Kiyoko at your side, her hands assisting you without touching.

"Bokuto! Where are you going?"

"Iー"

Every step was painful because of the sensivity your body is in right now, even more so at this unknown feeling that's keeping you calm through all of this.

"I'm sorry, Coach Ukai. I really didn't mean to."

"Why are you crying!?"

"Akaashi!! Bokuto's crying!!"

"It's okay, Bokuto. Accidents happen. She'll be okay."

"Let's get back to the game?"

"Butーbut with all that blood, she'll die!!"

"She'll be fine, Bokuto-san."

You turned right to the gym's washroom and went straight to the sink where it's faucet has already been turned on by Kiyoko. The pain has already left you, suspiciously fast.

"Do you have Yamaguchi's towel, Kinnoshita?"

"Yes. Here." Hisashi handed Kiyoko Tadashi's towel. You smiled at it as you see it's the Doraemon one you got him during middle school.

"I'm sorry for him, Keishin-kun."

"No one dies from a nosebleed, Bokuto you idiot!"

"Konoha-sanーNo one dies from it, Bokuto-san."

The blood's still flowing but you can't stop smiling, creepy because the blood drips to your peeking teeth in your reflection. Hisashi groaned and kept his eyes shut at your reflection.

"So.. that was an intense eye contact, Y/n-chan."

"Really? I don't want her to die Akaashi.."

Your breath hitched and Hisashi groaned more when you choked on your blood and mucus. You shut your eyes tight at the searing sensation in your throat. Kiyoko chuckled on your side.

"Aaah! Stop it, Shimizu-saan! I didn't want to notice itt." Hisashi whined, head shaking intensely. Chuckling too, you started cleaning your nose and chin devoiding it from blood.

When finished, "What eye contact, Shimizu-san?"

"You saw it too, right, Kinnoshita? You were beside me." Kiyoko was beaming as she readied the towel. "Can I touch you now, Y/n?" You nodded and she held your shoulder and massaged the bridge of your nose down to let the blood flow more.

"Hm. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were emitting a scary aura we have to step away from them, well just me and Shimizu-san. I don't know about the rest of the team." Your cheeks felt hot and you closed your eyes in embarassment. Tadashi and Kei were most likely thinking about the unthinkable assumptions.

"It was nothing. He was just in my line of sight and I can't move."

They're suspiciously nodding and you narrowed your eyes in their reflection. "Really."

"Okay. Okay. But are you really okay?" You kept quiet as you continued to clean your nose. The blood has stopped flowing already but you can still taste it so you went and gurgle it out of your mouth.

"Yes, I'm okay and still breathing." You grinned and got Tadashi's towel from her and dabbed it to your face, Doraemon already wet.

﹆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・

Kiyoko snickered when she saw you hugging your plushie as you were lying on your futon at the assigned room for the managers. You know why she snickered but you just gave her a faux questioning look.

"Hey, Y/n, we're sorry about Bokuto earlier. It really did hurt, didn't it?" You tilt your head up to see Yukie on her stomach, palms there for her head to rest.

Beside her, Kaori was sitting rubbing her tummy, closing her eyes. "I also got those a year ago in my tummy. It's impossible not to get hurt considering how strong his spikes are." You sat up and faced them while still clutching on your plushie.

"We saw her doubled over earlier, Kaori, and the blood was drippingーKuroo had Haiba-kun to mop after you went out to change."

"That simpleton ruining a lady's face! Really!" You smiled at them and they stuttered for a second.

"C'mon, it's an accident and it's fine, senpais. It didn't hurt that much. I get those accidents during middle school." You grinned as you tightened your hug, Kaori's eyes went down to notice it. Yukie and Kaori both snickered just like how Kiyoko snickered earlier, it made your head tilt in pure confusion now.

"Bokuto! You're not allowed in here!"

"Whyyy? I just wanna ask a favor from Yukippe and Kaokao!"

"Akaashi! Kuroo!"

"Let's go, Bokuto-san. Let the girls have their space."

"ButーAkaashi!"

You heard Ubugawa's manager Eri arguing with that Bokuto at the halls outside. You figured out the name of golden-eyed player is Bokuto with the way the others refer to him whenever you heard the name. Your brows raised in interest as to why he's here. Not like you care.

You heard Eri's laugh through the halls that made the four of you girls to draw confusion on your faces. It was followed by Kuroo's hyena laugh and a loud smack and a whine. Yukie stood and made way to the door out of confusion and peeked but was just followed by her laugh. You blinked and decided to sprawl again on your futon. On the corner of your eye, Kaori joined Yukie on the door but she was just irritated at the muffled noise and whispers.

"Hey! Do that tomorrow, Bokuto!" She was furious with her hands on her hips.

"Eeehh?? Okay~"

"I told you, Bokuto. Tomorrow."

"Fine! Fine!"

And you heard muffled shuffles getting far off from the door. Yukie and Kaori went back inside with Yukie glancing at your plushie and snickering again.

"Really! That simpleton is stressing me out!" Kaori huffed as she plopped back to her futon.

"What did he want?" You glanced at Kiyoko upon her question and yawned at her face focusing on Yukie and Kaori in confusion.

"He want nonsense again. He's like that everytime, we're really sorry! He's too loud, worse when he's with Kuroo." Her eyes went from Kiyoko to Eri that's entering the room. Eri's eyes went straight to your confused face and she bit her lip when she saw the plushie.

"You're really cute, Y/n-chan. The plushie is cute too!" She complimented as she made her way to her futon. "Mako can't be with us, she's sick and have to go home to rest." She was shuffling through her bag when she continued further. "That #12 in your team, what was his name again?"

You turned to her, amidst the talk with Kaori and Kiyoko. "Yamaguchi?"

"Yeah? He'll be here in any minute. He shyly asked me about your whereabouts when we were held up in the canteen. Something about your brother? Who's your brother?"

You blinked. What about Kei? "Tsukishima, the tall one with the glasses. Her twin brother." Kiyoko was the one who answered and she got back to her conversation with Kaori.

What happened to Kei? You furrowed your brows as you searched in your head for answers. Did something happen to him? Did he finally pin Shoyo to the ceiling like how he used to grumble about? Did he forget something? Did he need something that's in yourーOh. You smiled and got up again grunting.

"Where are you going?" Kiyoko asked as you rummaged through your bag to get something so cute too. She laughed with the other girls when they saw what you were holding, you laughed with them, a finger over your lips shushing them.

"I'm just gonna.." You pointed the door and they shooed you away.

You yawned as you made your way upstairs to the boys' rooms. And it dawned on you that you didn't know where their room is. You closed your eyes in irritation and you're about to go back to your room and just wait for Tadashi when Koshi yelled your name out of nowhere. The hallway that was bustling with murmurs and laughs fell dead silent, you bit your lip as you turned around to see him running towards you, heavy thuds off from a 5'8 running.

"We thought you're asleep with Shimizu already. What made yーwhat's that?" His eyes trailed to the plushie you have in your hand.

"Y/nnnn!!" You jumped at Tadashi's voice and he rushed to you the same manner as Koshi and snatched the plushie from you immediately, making you laugh.

"It's yours, Yamaguchi?" Koshi was chuckling at Tadashi. "It's cute! Dino plushie." Tadashi's face went beet red and you found yourself laughing louder, now with Koshi.

You heard a loud door opening and "Y/N! Stop laughing and go to sleep already!!". Yep, that's Kei.

You pouted. "Haii~ Good night! Love you!" You called out to him, not minding the sweet talks you have given to your brother through the hallway. You can see him blushing from embarassment in your mind that made you chuckle.

"He's not in the mood." Tadashi commented and huffed as he hugged you on one arm and gave you head kisses, still blushing from embarassment. "Go now. Good night. Love you." You returned the hug and prompts, a routine you have with him every night you separate ways in going home.

"Uhhh, how sweet. Can you give me a hug too, Y/n?" You snickered at Koshi's impulsive remark and hugged him too mindlessly, Tadashi battling not to raise a brow at your action. You felt Koshi stiffened for a second and chuckled as he returned your hug, palming your hair. His warmth against you, wrapping around, is new to you and it's comforting.

"Now I know why they're protective over you." He chuckled as he broke the hug himself. The limits of your head tilts dinging as you took your last one for the day.

﹆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・

"Kageyama. In that fast attack that go whoosh, I'll stop closing my eyes. We can't stay like this. This isn't enough. I wanna decide where to hit the ball to."

"We tried that already, remember? It didn't work. I'll not invalidate you but if you keep insisting on this during this set, then I have no intention on putting a set up for someone I know would miss."

Shoyo's evolving at a scary pace. The team, even Coach, is seeing and feeling that. You just witnessed his collision with Asahi and it felt like he wanna steal the ball from the Ace. The team is also in a tension since then, maybe they had realized the same things that Shoyo said. We can't stay like this. This isn't enough. For someone that had seen their defeat against Aoba Johsai, I'd say he's not in the wrong.

Ittetsu was correct when he said that they are not the best, but they have always have room to grow. They just have to view their competitors as potential teachers that they can absorb techniques and strategies. You would have numerous to teach them but you can't impose it to them without them realizing what they really want to work with. You let out a sigh, being a coach is hard. You have to stick to just enhance and enhance and let them think.

"What will we do with Hinata, Y/n?"

"We still have to figure out what he really wants to do, Ukai-san."

You were standing side by side when you both noticed Koshi, Tobio and Shoyo getting off the gym. You exchanged looks and nonverbally agreed to eavesdrop.

Both of you heard about Shoyo's thoughts about the Seijoh match, and how he wanted Tobio to not apologize to him for something that's clearly his shortcoming. Tobio didn't deny him with an emotional outburst but he was just telling the truth, about how Shoyo's input is completely unnecessary, that it's not his call or anything that something he'll regret. It's a setter's job to bring out the maximum potential, a 100%. But he's wrong at somethingー

Tobio passed by you and Coach Ukai, having to half-ass bow and move on to the court.

"Sorry, Hinata, but I have to agree on Kageyama after hearing his reasons. That quick attack is already impressive and having that on the core of our attacks is essential right now."

You frowned more when Coach Ukai came out to them and agreed with Koshi.

"There's nothing wrong with you wanting to contribute even a little, Hinata, but that quick attack only hinges for a fraction of a second. Honestly, trying to decide where the ball will go to on that amount of time is impossible."

"On days when I'm in the groove, I can see things clearly from up there. Like everything is in slow motion. Just like Tanaka-san."

"Yeah, there are times when spikers can see the blockers clearly."

"And during that practice match with Seijoh, during that last point, I saw Great King's face.. his eyes."

"Oh, you think you sawー"

You stood straight and blinked rapidly in realization. You gulped hard, you wanted to tell them something.

"Even during that first 3-on-3 we had, I can see the entire court from up there, like I'm in a summit."

"Right, the impression Hinー"

It came quiet all of the sudden. Suddenly, Ryuunosuke bounded towards where you are and peeked to the trio talking outside.

"Game's about to start!" You heard a yelp from Coach, surprised by the sudden rollcall.

You wanna talk to Shoyo about something that'll make him at ease so you went to Coach Ukai to sub him for a while. He gladly obliged, full trust on you. Kazuhito went in replace for him.

"Hey." You approached him at the center of the two courts. He felt rejected and he stayed as far as possible from the team for the meantime. You pursed your lips at the thought and of how he just hummed in acknowledging you standing beside him.

"I can see it too, you know."

He whirled to you wide-eyed, shocked with the bomb you dropped, the bomb that told him he's not alone and that you understand him.

"I came in love with that sight. Too in love that I have to make my spikers see the view too. To share it to them. But never did they saw it. I initially thought I was imagining things, too. But it isn't."

His eyes glazed over. "IーY/n-sanー"

"Don't worry, Hinata. Everything will be alright, okay? Everything will turn out okay. Just be patient. I know what you want, but I'm just an assistant coach and still learning the trade, and I certainly don't want to impose my thing to the team. You guys have to think of what you really wanna do, that includes you and Kageyama. Tell me what exactly you both want, and I'm gonna teach you once, leave you to figure it out yourself, and enhance it afterwards." You wrapped an arm around his shoulder and patted him, consoling him, getting him back up to his stance even just a little bit.

You both jumped when you both heard a hum in your backs. Coach Ukai was there, listening. You blushed hard in embarassment.

"Hinata, if you think there's a way for that quick attack to evolve then I'll be glad to help coz I also want to see that. I don't have any clue on what toss you need to do that though. And I know she has a clue but will be too stubborn to just stick with her principles as a coach. But you can't impose to Kageyama that way, you'll just irritate him so no more games for you today. Sit it out with the rest on the bench."

Shoyo flinched and pouted. "Haii~" He went back to where Koshi and the others were, leaving you with Coach Ukai.

"You won't tell me too, are you?" You grinned at him and sticking out a peace sign before chuckling with him. "You're mean." He ruffled your hair before getting back to the bench. You followed him, poking at Tadashi's back on your way.

"Ah! Kuroo! Where are you looking at!? Damn it!"

"Just misjudged, Oni-senpai! Shut up!"

"Cover!"

"Lev!!"

"Bokuto-san!"

"Mine!"

"Noya-san!"

"Argh! Sorry!"

Kiyoko glanced at you and snickered, giving you a cheshire smile. "What is it, Kiyoko-san?" You whispered to her out of earshot from anybody around.

"One more time, Bokuto-san!"

"Three blockers!"

Her eyes raked its gaze on a certain player of Fukurodani, gained you a question on whoーyou hissed audibly for her to chuckle and turn to you again. You pouted and shook your head defensively.

Ugh, stop it Kiyoko-san before he notices and gets the wrong idea.

﹆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・

"Y/n-chaaan! Kiyoko! See you in 2 weeks!" You looked back at Eri from the crowd that's seeing your team off. You and Kiyoko waved back at her and to the other managers.

"Byeee~!"

"Ah! What was that for!?"

"Hinataaaa! See you later!! I'll stop you next time too!"

"Hah! You're not gonna beat me that easy. I'm gonna show you a 5'4 can mop the floor with the 6'4!"

"Bokuto!! They're leaving!"

"Don't you wanna seeー"

"Let's go." Kei got your bag from you and slung it on his shoulders. "I told you to bring me or Yamaguchi your bag. Tsk."

You pouted and followed him to the bus with the others. "You had so much on your shoulders already." He quirked a brow on you and you rolled your eyes.

"Y/n!" Your eyes turned to Koshi that's already inside the bus, head poking out the window. "You want the window seat? C'mon, hurry!" You grinned and hurried your way onto the bus.

"Tsk! Don't run!"

You hopped on the seat Koshi reserved for you, all smiles. Kei followed through and went on a seat at your back and pulled some of your hair with a glare. You returned his glare and Koshi chuckled next to you. You pouted at him and was about to whine at him when you saw his eyes going through youーto the back of your head, through the windows. You dared not to look. He chuckled mindlessly and patted your head. Your first head tilt of the day.

When the bus' engine revved, you turned to the crowd beside your bus and waved goodbye, catching a glimpse of that certain someone talking with anotherーor rather arguing. You quickly turned your gaze up front before he notices.

The rest of the ride was quiet due to the tension and exhaustion, except for the occassional sneezes you had, Koshi had to hand you a packet of tissues.

The tension broke off when Shoyo called you over to toss for him and Tobio. Kei agreed mindlessly but just until they finish changing.

You kept tossing to Tobio and he tossed to Shoyo, of which Shoyo was never successful. His attention's on the ball and not on his maximum jump. You tried to call him out for it but Tobio races you to it. The argument heated and heated up more when Tobio grabbed Shoyo by the collar and threw him across the court. Shoyoーperplexed and agitated by Tobio relentless wordsーlaunched to him and held on to him. You tried to stop them but you were out of options.

You held on to the gym's door and shouted for Kei or anyone so loud it might've disturbed some nearby houses and teachers that are still in the school's vicinity. "Hinata and KageyamaーKei!! Anyone!!"

The club room from upstairs flung open so harshly and Ryuunosuke hurried down for the gym, Kei and Tadashi following him. Yuu who was still in his boxers hurriedly wore his sweatpants, not minding that he's still shirtless, and went down as well.

Ryuunosuke yelled for Tobio and Shoyo who was so busy on each other and punched them together. You felt tears coming down your cheeks from the helplessness and someone hugged you from behind giving you headkisses and shushing your shaking self from the commotion, your eyes still glued at the two boys getting reprimanded by Ryuunosuke.

"Hey." The someone who was hugging you spoke. You heaved a shaky sigh and turned to Tadashi and hugged him. "It's alright. It's always like this with boys."

"You and Kei aren't like that." He chuckled and pats your hair down, giving you back rubs along the way.

"I told you both on our way back to not argue or brawl like this in front of my sister, didn't I? Didn't I? You're both really stupid. Can't you just talk it out without fighting? Huh? Too stupid to just talk?" Kei was towering on the duo, anger was seeping on his veins. The duo just went silent and muttered a hushed apology.

"Are you okay, Y/n-chan?" You peeked at Yuu against Tadashi's shoulders and smiled at him. "You're pale."

"I'm okay, Noya-san." He studied you for a couple seconds as you broke free from the hug and he nodded on, still wary.

"We'll go ahead. Both of you, stop it."

﹆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜・

"Y/n." Tobio approached you warily, keeping an eye on Tadashi and Kei nearby. He stared at you and bowed, "I'm sorry." Your eyes bulged and quickly, you straighten up Tobio's back but to no avail, it caught the hallway's attention already, Kei and Tadashi eyeing on that little commotion. Tadashi had to stop Kei from prancing to where Tobio is.

"It's okay, Kageyama." Tobio looked at you, still wary. "What is it? You have more to say?" His expression piqued your interest, an expression that's too shy but resolved.

"Can we go to Sendai together after class?"

"No!"

You glared at Kei that's glaring at Tobio. Tobio scowled at Kei and fiddled his fingers when he faced at you again. "I wanna talk to your dad for advices? He's a setter, right?"

"I'm a setter, too, you know?" You chuckled at your reveal that surprised him. "You don't have to go to Sendai. But we'll go to another nearby place that'll maybe help you think of what to do. Come by the room at dismissal."

"I said no!"

But those Nos from Kei fell on deaf ears when Tobio really came by and fetched you. Tadashi approached him at the door, Kei close by. You didn't hear their conversation as you arranged your things, took your change of clothes, and left your bag on Kei's desk.

"ーgot it?" was all you heard as you approached them. Tobio nodded and took a glance at you over Tadashi's shoulder. Kei turned to you, scowling. "Change first. Kageyama-kun will be waiting."

It didn't take long and Tobio found himself chattering away with you on the ride to this certain volleyball clinic nearby. He even complimented your shirt that says: Setters are the rulers of the court. You told him you bought it three years ago in your brother's Tokyo Spring High.

"When I saw Hinata in Karasuno, I never thought I'll have a friend and a partner in one, Y/n. The one that can give me exhileration in just putting up those sets previous spikers can't hit. IーHe's my bestfriend." You smiled at him after he opened up about what happened the other night between him and Shoyo. You never thought of him as a confesser, but you like this side of him, more than his stoic face.

"Then, we shall do something about what he wants." You said as you stopped in front of a building. "Wait here. Sensei will be finished in a minute. I'll get him for you."

He nodded then you trotted inside the building. Maybe due to your height you hadn't noticed a kid bumped to you after running around. You kneeled in front of the kid and checked up on him.

"I'm sorry. Can you stand?" The kid stared at you and nodded. You helped him up while you're still squatting and checked his back for possible wounds and bruises.

"I'm sorry, pretty onee-chan." You felt your cheeks burned at that innocent compliment and you ruffled his buzz-cutted head. "It's okay. Be careful next time, hm?"

You stood up, worried that you might have took too much time and your sensei would be off home. A familiar looking face were walking to the kid behind you and you tried to remember wherever you saw him.

"Takeru, what happened?"

"I bumped to that pretty onee-chan, Tooru."

"You're clumsy, stop running around or I'll put you on a leash. Let's go."

You had reached an empty gym and groaned. Now, what to do with Tobio? Should you just tell him what kind of toss he needed to practice to match up with Shoyo is a falling toss? Your brows were furrowed as you made your way out of the building to deliver the news to Tobio. But he was already talking to that same guy you saw a while ago. And that was when it clicked to you.

The captain of Aoba Johsai. The one they call Great King.

"Do you know you have a counterpart, Y/n? Well, senseis claimed he was your counterpart. Well, there were two, they said. Heard the coaches passing by the court this morning."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"In the Boys', just here in our prefecture, there's this someone that has potentials and talents at the same level as you. Well, maybe he's stronger because he has more muscles being a man. And the other one is in another prefecture, in the south."

You raised your brows at the sudden interest. "I'm not some high level setter and certainly not interested in those 'man-muscles' but who in the prefecture are you referring to?"

"Oikawa-san! Please!" You saw how Tobio begged for this Oikawa Tooru to give him an advice.

"Takeru." The kid who bumped into you looked at Tooru. "Take a picture. Hereー" Tooru taught Takeru the ways on his phone. "Hold it right there. Press here." Tobio peeked at Tooru and Takeru going through the older's phone. "Tobio, don't move." You were curious of what he'll do. What was the picture for? You crossed your arms on your chest and stared at them down the stairs. They even hadn't noticed you yet.

"A proof that Tobio bowed down to the great me!" And he posed. Your eye twitched. No. He's not my counterpart in this one, you thought.

"Wow. You like these kind of pictures, Tooru? How lame." You nearly laughed out loud at Takeru's dissing, to where Tooru flinches.

"Anyway, what is it Tobio? I'm busy."

"Huh? But you told me your girlfriend dumped you so you had nothing to do all day." You have to bite your lip to stop quivering to laugh.

"Shut up, Takeru!"

"Uhmー" Both the younger and the older kid paused to look at Tobio now standing upright. "Ifーif ever all of the sudden Iwaizumi-san said he wants to improve an already crazy setー"

"Hold up there. If you wanna get an advice from me, just go straight to the point."

Tobio scowled and huffed. Go on, you need someone's advice from him right now. "Hinata's been doing the quick sets with his eyes closed and now, he wants to do it with eyes open, to hit it by himself."

Tooru hummed, and even with his back on you, you can feel he's emerged to the topic. "It will be great if he can do that. Let him."

Your lips curved at what he said. As expected. "But Oikawa-san, Hinata's poor on his basic skills. It's not that simple!" Tobio retorted at him.

"So you wanted him to just shut up and hit the tosses you give him? That sounds like a tyrant king would do."

One time in your life, you were that tyrant he was speaking of. You closed your eyes as you continued to listen to them discreetly.

"Have you ever thought of what tosses he would like to hit? Or did you even think he likes the tosses you put up? Did you even think about it?" Tooru smugly said, but he's right though. Tobio has to realize it himself.

"Are you scared of the change that you've been acting defensive thinking that quick attack of yours is already good enough?" You saw how the air around Tooru changed that Tobio slightly flinched. "Don't get the wrong idea. The attack's Chibi-chan's call, not yours. If you can't wrap it on your genius head, then you're just reverting back being the Tyrant King of the Court. Andー"

You freezed when he side-eyed you from where you were standing. "ーshe's in your team, right? She knows what I'm talking about. Why don't you ask her?" He moved down the stairs. "Let's go Takeru."

Both yours and Tobio's eyes are on Tooru's back for a minute before Tobio looked at you, his eyes eager. You sighed and went down to him, "Let's go back first."

As to how Tooru knew of you, you were curious. Well, sure, he might've heard from others and things you wanted to just not think of like.. you're quite popular from the Girls' Volleyball matches of Miyagi. You scowled involuntarily at the thought. You don't want people knowing you like that but circumstances can't help it from happening. And you hate it.

You were dreading about that, not noticing you were already walking with Tobio, passing by the Sakanoshita store. His ringing phone woke you up from your thoughts.

He answered it, eyeing you. "Oh?ーYeah, we're going back to the school now. ーShut up. ーOkay." And the second he ended the call, it rang again. You chuckled at his side, pulling him aside by the vending machine.

"Kageyama! Where are you!?"

Coach Ukai's voice is so loud you can hear it eventhough the call's not on speaker.

"Ukai-san? Y/n and I are already walking back to the school."

"Huh?"

And Ukai-san came out of nowhere and ran up to the both of you.

"A falling toss, Kageyama! You have to drop the ball!"

You instantly smile. Your instincts were right.

"I was about to give in." You laughed and Coach Ukai brought you both inside the store to discuss about that set.

But all he did was gave you the floor to explain it to Tobio and he just sat back there and fill in necessary comments for Tobio to find it easy to understand. When you're in a roll in explaining, all human languages scurry away and technical languages invade you. You wished Tobio had understood all you've said. He's focused, though, so was it successful?

"Tobio?"

"I didn't quite understand what Oikawa-san said." His eyes found yours, your brows perked up. "That it's Hinata's call, not mine, or any setter in that matter."

You hummed and glanced at Coach Ukai, still listening.

"I told you on our way there that setters are the rulers of the court, right? Like my shirt now?" He nodded, picking up every word you said.

"Rulers are somewhat a serving king. Serving its citizens while leading them. That's what we are. The spikers have different quirks and abilities and it's our responsibility to utilize it. If they want to evolve, we let them if it's good for the team. We can't stop them from it, you know. The spikers are the breadwinners of the team, and we are the ones who are pulling them to work."

"It's a setter's responsibility to evolve with the spiker, too. We have to meet their abilities, because in that way we can utilize their skills better. We have to properly accomodate them, devout ourselves to them to the best of our abilities." Coach Ukai added.

Tobio was silent, probably absorbing what you both said. And after a while, he nodded with a determined look on his face. "Can you both teach me how to do that falling toss?"

Coach Ukai rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you. "We might have to get permission from your brother, Y/n."

"Oh, not a problem."

﹆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・

Kei groaned as you glare at him. Why wouldn't you? He just left your plushie, probably still loitered in your genkan. Your poor plushie.

"You can sleep without your plushie."

Your plushie is your stress-reliever and he can't say you can sleep without it. You grabbed his dino plushie, "You can also sleep without this, Kei."

You discarded his plushie to Tadashi with a glare, he immediately took it while consciously eyeing Kei. The dino lover grumbled and crossed his arms, closing his eyes. "It's not even mine."

Tadashi chuckled, fist flew in his lips and turned away to his side of the window, and a few rows up front, Koshi snorted beside Daichi. Kei's face went scarlet and contorted and shifted his body towards the window, away from you. Huh. That's what you get.

Your face screams unpleasant too, leaning back at the seat, arms crossed. You really can't sleep. The upcoming five days of the training camp will be one hell of an eyebag-inducer camp. You closed your eyes in irritation thinking of ways of how to soothe your nerves to at least relax and maybe, with the blessings of the gods, sleep.

You woke up from a hard poke on your forehead. You groaned as you snuggled more to the crook of Kei's neck. He groaned too, clearly disgusted. He violently shook your thigh with his and you furrowed your brows before opening your eyes, glaring at his skin.

"We're near."

You slowly sat up while wiping whatever evidence of drool, wet and dried alike, is in the sides of your lips. You heard Kei clicked his tongue and rummaged on his bag to get a new shirt. You ignored him changing and looked out the window.

Your eyes and mouth rounded as it caught glimpse of a hilly district, the sunrise just far off the mountains at the distance. It's peaceful, it instantly captivated your heart.

"Are we still in Tokyo?" You queried as Ittetsu turned right to a less hilly driveway, more yawns all over the bus.

"Saitama, Y/n." His voice was hoarse as he maybe up the long drive from Miyagi. He pulled over and you peeked up front just to see familiar buses and stairs leading up to a building that says: Shinzen High School.

"Kei?" You excitedly waited for his approval to get out of the bus before anyone else, seeing two of the Nekoma players out and waiting for your team to pile out.

Kei nodded with a sigh and turned to Tadashi with a knowing look as you bounded out of the bus.

"Hiii~ Good morning~!"

"Keiii~"

Kei rolled his eyes as soon as he hears you chime towards him after a mock game. He was lounging with Daichi and Koushi at the stage side of the gym.

"What is it?"

"Can I be friendly with the other teams in the training camp?"

You heard Koushi chuckled at your question, Daichi's eyes on both you and Kei, amused.

"Why are you asking him that, Y/n?"

You shrugged and pouted. "They might not like it, Suga-san. It's betー"

Kei groaned, cutting you off. "It's okay. Just don't get out of our peripherals."

"Good morning." Nekoma's setterーyou remembered his name was Kenma or somethingーlazily replied. "Shoyo?"

"Seriously Kenma, you only care about chibi-chan." You gazed at Kenma's back who was eyeing at the bus where you came from. And his troubled eyes fell on you and lingered as you heard the others coming out from the bus. "Good morning, Y/n, how's the ride?"

You felt your system getting excited, not with his question but with the interaction. You haven't been making friends out of Kei's circle of friends he insists they're all acquiantances but you're seeing otherwise, well except for Tadashi for all your life but this is worth a shot.

"It's amazing. Though I slept the whole ride." You giggled and you see how the brows of the raven-black haired boy shot up to the sound of it. "Saitama's view is relaxing, Kuroo-san!"

He hummed and smiled at you, the team's noise already close behind you. "I should offer to carry the bags for our kouhai managers."

It didn't slip your eyes how Kenma's brows quirked at Tetsurou, and giving him a deadpan look. "Ah, no thanks Kuroo-san! My brother's got it already."

He nodded and was already distracted by how the rest of the team filed in next to you. You shot a glance at Tadashi who was already looking at you, and you winked at him before going up the stairs, with him trailing and grumbling behind.

"Hey! Slow down, miss!"

You were about to laugh when a tall Russian came bounding down the stairs to meet you. He was all smiles and sunshine, it was infectious.

"You're Y/n-chan right? Hi! The others are murmuring about you upstairs!"

"LEV!"

You heard Tadashi hummed a suspicious streak, but you ignored it keeping your own enthusiastic streak. "Oh? Yes, I'm Y/n! You must be Lev? Hi!"

"You're really pretty!"

You were taken aback slightly and grinned at his straightforwardness. "Thank you Lev! You're really tall."

"LEV!!"

"It's in my genes." He suddenly patted your head while grinning. "I'll come back for you later, Y/n-chan. Kuroo-nii-san's calling." And he bounded down the stairs for Tetsurou.

Tadashi stared at you and shook his head, it made you jokingly gasp. "What? He was being friendly, Guchi-guchi."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

The climb to the top of the stairs is exhausting but you paid it no mind because the view was worth it, it made your sad golden eyes sparkle somehow. Tadashi saw it and smiled anyway.

﹆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・

The first day of the series of practice games are a mess you should say, considering Karasuno has yet to perfect their new gameplays. There's more room for improvement, and you're glad they aren't disheartened, thus you know they'll strive harder. To evolve, that is. That's how an omnivorous crow should be, to adapt to it's environment.

And you, to adapt to your environment, too. As a manager, you have to be up and going, because this what you chose to do. And as an assistant coach, that your team needs, what Coach Ukai needs, what Kei needs.

So why is he here, denying Tadashi of a time for personal practice? You stood by the door, hearing Tadashi convincing Kei to practice more but your awesome twin said,

"We have already practiced enough. It's no good to tire myself with practicing vigorously."

You rolled your eyes as Tadashi quipped a small "Oh. Okay."

You were not ready when Kei came out of the gym a second later, clicking his tongue as he saw you and trudged past you to the cafeteria. Unconsciously, you followed him.

"You should stay there and watch them. Why're you following me?"

"I don't know." He scoffed as he slowed down his pace to walk with you side by side.

"I didn't like it, Y/n. I don't need anotherー."

"Another what?" He, again, clicked his tongue at your clueless self and grabbed your ear enough to make you squirm.

"Oy! Karasuno! Tsukishimas! You, with the glasses!"

Both you and your brother whipped your heads towards the gym you were passing by. There you saw Tetsurou, and that Bokuto. You stopped your arm in time when it was going on instinct to your sternum for that unsightful mannerism. You didn't want Kei to worry about you. He has enough to think about.

"Can you jump blocks for us for a while?"

Huh?

"I'm busy training Lev with receivesー"

"I SAID I CAN JUMP BLOCKS WITH YOU NII-SAN!"

"ーShut up or I'll call Yaku!" Tetsurou roared to someone inside the gym that sounded like Haiba Lev who just whined loudly. You felt yourself fought a smile.

"Ah, I'm done for today, thank you senpais. Let's goー"

"HAAA!?" You both froze when they exclaimed, following your brother's cold rejection.

"It's lonely to practice spikes without blockers. Please." The golden-eyed player begged beside Tetsurou.

"You won't regret practicing blocks with this man. He's one of the top 5 aces of the country." Tetsurou added, just to convince your brother. But you know Kei won't. He's as cold now as ice.

"He just probably misses being in the Top 5 aces, Kuroo-san."

Someone with a monotone voice spoke from inside the gym that made Tetsurou cackle and mutter a "Don't mind" to the man beside him, tapping his shoulder in the process of comforting him.

"HEY!"

"And you're a middle blocker right? Should you be practicing more?"

A brow raised as you registered the sly tone from Tetsurou, and Kei registered it as well as he stiffen suddenly. Yare-yare.

Kei walked to them, clearly provoked and both the captains by the door were suprised by the reaction from your twin. They both held their thumbs up as Kei walked past them and inside the gym.

"Will you be watching your brother, Y/n-chan?"

Tetsurou asked you as you just stood there, debating within if you would accompany Kei or no. But why are you debating with yourself anyway? Your brother needs you there.

"Hai." You quipped as you walked through the pathway to the gym, the wind messing with your hair you have to tie it up again. Ugh.

You walked past the two captains and saw Fukurodani's setter by the net, and Lev of course, sprawled on the court's floor across the net with balls in his side. You grinned at his image while approaching Kei.

"You're hungry. You should go." You scrunched up your face at Kei while hearing coughs from behind.

"I'm gonna watch you. You're part of the team I want to improve." Kei groaned at that as you felt a calming presence from behind you, you wanted to ministrate your mannerism so bad.

"Let's start? Let's start? Agaaashee! Got a blocker!"

Even if you don't turn around and face that presence, you know he's grinning from ear to ear. How can he be so carefree like that? You took a deep, obscure breath and made way to the side of the court where Akaashi Keiji is standing. But Kei had plans. He dragged you to the side of the court with a chair for you to sit.

"Stay clear from the ball. You know how his spikes hurt."

That didn't escaped the boys' ears as Tetsurou snickered at the culprit of sorts.

"I was sorry."

You heard him mumble as you nodded to Kei giving your arm rubs before positioning opposite of the ace. You saw how they rested their eyes on you for a second before starting. But you noticed Lev staring at you, still sprawled on the floor and head propped up at your direction. He noticed you noticing him and he waved at you. You snickered, tilted your head and waved back. Cutie titan.

"LEV! RECEIVE!"

Lev groaned at the booming voice of Tetsurou as the ace is already in motion for a spike. You noticed Kei not closing in the line shot, causing the ace to take a shot there, just missing Kei's arm.

"Close the line shot, Kei!" Kei scowled at your remark but nodded anyway.

It went on for a few more with Tetsurou joining Kei on blocking until Bokuto stops and exasperatedly placed his hands on his waists as he stares at your brother.

"You know, Glasses-kunー"

"Tsukishima-desu."

"Tsukishima-kun." He huffs and scrunches his face. "You have an outstanding sense, but your blocks are pretty weak." You have to bite your bottom lip to suppress your escaping giggles at his straightforwardness, seeing Kei flinching in the process.

"I get so worried I'll break your arm in two or something. You have to rush in and stop it. Rush in!" Bokuto egged on and you have to clasp a hand above your lips to muffle your giggles at the comical scene in front of you.

"I'm still a growing kid, and I have so much ways to go in both muscular strength and height." Kei clapped back at him proudly which made you bury your face on your hands. You missed how Bokuto flinched at Kei's words.

"If you take things too easy, Chibi-chan will take all the glory. He's a middle blocker too, right?" Tetsurou nonchalantly added that shifted the comical atmosphere. You saw how Kei stiffen for a second and let out his hopeless smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

Of all the things your twin brother didn't like, it's comparing him to other people.

"I don't think I can do anything about it. There's an obvious difference in our potentials." And he always let himself down.

Without notice, some of Nekoma's players flooded the court, giving both you and your brother a confused look. You smiled at them while your brother shifted towards the door. "Well, looks like I'll be in the way. If you'll excuse me." He bowed at both the captains, still full of respect and went straight out.

"Kei!" You called at him as you rushed out, too. "Wait!"

"Don't run!" He hissed as you caught up on him.

"You're offended." You stated, wanting him to talk about it. He has to. He hasn't been talking to you about this.

You noticed him taking larger steps and you still stuck in his pace, not wanting him to make a distance from you. "I told you to stop talking."

"But why? You used to be so passionate with volleyball. I have noticed the changes, you know, so why?"

And he stopped abruptly. He faced you and took a step forward, meeting your questioning gaze.

"So much love for something will break you. You'll end up feeling so much pain later in the way."

And you saw how those unsaid words that may have followed his spoken ones trailed up to the atmosphere between you two.

"You just thought you don't want to be like me or Aki-nii." He groaned and that confirmed your statement. Your lips formed a thin line as another emotion came rushing up your gut, you took a step back from him.

"Why do both of you put so much into this? This is just a club and a sport! Will there be something waiting for me at the end of all of this? Huh?!"

Your brows involuntarily raised up at his change of tone and you were left speechless after he breathed a few rugged breaths and left you there standing in the pathway, the Saitama summer air blowing cold in your figure.

You exhaled a shaky breath as you watched him strut past the corridors and out of your sight, gulped as you inhaled back your emotions.

Keep it all in, Y/n. Keep it all in.

﹆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・

The girls in the room are long-gone asleep, hearing their shallow breaths as they slumber so deep. You can't sleep, have been staring at the ceiling for quite some time now. After the encounter with Kei, you kept quiet so as to not spill anything, even emotions. You're not supposed to show them anything other than your image of being a happy-go-lucky gal.

But you can't sleep. And your plushie isn't here to accompany you through your inner battles. You badly want to go home.

You huffed and sat up, rummaged from your bag for some layers of clothes and hoodies, rolled up your futon and pillow and silently went out to the corridor with those tucked in your arms.

The corridor is still lit, thankfully, and you were treading ever so silently so as to not wake the coaches sleeping on this floor. You have made it outside without any incident. You heard laughs from the second floor and found that all the boys' rooms are still all lit up. Your worry about being seen creeped in so you purposely sped up to the pathway to the side of the first gym where the penalties were held.

You felt excited for this night is so starry. And you suddenly missed your window sill back in Miyagi. Stargazing is your go-to when you have nothing to hold in your arms. It will surely lull you to sleep. It will be cold, but at least.

After smoothing your futon against the trimmed grass, you lay down and breathed in the Saitama night summer air, giddy that you could see the stars here clearly with all the lights turned off. It's dark but it's okay. You have been so accustomed in darkness to be bothered by it.

Your eyes were dancing from star to star and it felt like hours already until your mind drifted to Kei and his attitude earlier that night. Your gaze blanked as you remembered everything he said and why he said it; Why he felt like that.

Kei wasn't like that before. He used to be so passionate with the sport. But then, after what happened with Akiteru and his lies, added by you and your downfall, he changed. He saw Akiteru cry when your family went all back home after you all discovered his lies about being in the roster. Akiteru was broken hearted, yes, but it broke both of you more, broke Kei more. Akiteru was his hero, his idol, and seeing him like that and lying, the sour change was inevitable.

But the pain didn't stop for Kei there.

He saw you worked hard for your dream of being included with the aspiring players for the national league, to be known throughout Japan. He saw how you chased for it and win every match there is to reach Yoyogi Gym. But he saw you fall unconscious in the middle of that big game, just a step away bringing that national trophy.

You ended up in the hospital that day, with a devastating diagnosis. It broke him more, broke your family too. And you are to blame.

If you just heeded and took it easy in sports. If you have not just ignored the first signs.

It sucks to draw the shortest of all the sticks. It is your fate, but it doesn't mean you're notー

A squeaking step broke your train of thoughts. It came from the pathway. It was followed by a silhouette of a tall man. Initial fear creeped in as you can't seem to see the face of the approaching man. When he passed the threshold of the moonlight not too far away from where you are perched in your futon, the glistening white ends of his hair and his gleaming golden eyes came into view, not too obscure to not notice in this darkness.

He was heaving, and had a futon and a hoodie with him, and he was staring at you with anーis he irritated or something? You heard yourself scoff.

"You know, you're not supposed to be around here at night, alone with your thoughts." You turned your gaze away from his figure and stared at the swaying branches of a lone tree nearby.

"I'm sorry for Kuroo. It's mainly to mobilize people, motivate, but he's bad at delivering it and I'm aware of it." You stayed silent, hiding half of your face on your hoodie as you hugged your knees.

Rustles were heard beside you and you fought the urge to glance at it, knowing he's laying his own futon next to yours.

"We heard yourーuhm.. exchangeーfrom the gym. It's.. a little loud to not hear." You buried your face more to your knees, groaning low as you heard a low chuckle.

"So... you don't mind me being here, right?" You stiffen at his question for it has to be answered. And you're not sure how to not sound like you haven't been crying.

When you decided to just shake your head, you heard him hum in response and in the corner of your eye, he had laid back on his futon, arms under his head, golden eyes stared at the vastness of the starry Saitama skies.

The silence he offered for an hour was calming your nerves. Your still glossy eyes locked at his swaying feet and you blinked as it tranced your mind.

"Can't sleep." You murmured through your hoodie after an hour of silence with him, through the silence and rustling soft winds and the crickets harmonizing the night.

A questioning hum was quickly quipped, like he was waiting for you to speak up and break the silence between the two of you. You're glad he's not prodding. He's just.. waiting.

"There's just so much going on right now." You offered with a whisper, hoping he could hear.

"Thenー" You sighed in relief. "ーyou should unload some of it for you to be able to wear your mask again. Andー" He grunted and you heard shuffles and shoes were placed at the end of his futon. "ーit's okay if it's not with me. As long as you let some of it go."

You can't see him from your peripherals, but it felt like he sat up, legs still stretched and swaying. "Ahh~ it's really full of stars tonight!"

You stayed silent, rather enjoying the silence and his company. You felt comfortable and at peace andー

"If your dreams shatter in front of you after working so hard and so long for it, what will you do?"

He exhaled a long breath before resuming his leg movements. "Well, I would move on and do my second dream."

?

"Second dream?" You queried back, curious about his answer.

"Yeah? I have six dreams as of the moment, the first is for Fukurodani to become the national champion in the Interhigh and Spring Interhigh. If by any chance that that won't happen then, I'm going pro after I graduate instead and make a name for myself."

You gulped as you found yourself dumbfounded. All your life you have stucked your life direction to just one goal. You never had thought of doing anything else other than that. That was your compass, and when it crumbled last year, you were lost. Your life's meaning went to shambles too.

And then, this man in your right came along and blurted things about having many dreams, reserved dreams. It was pulling you to somewhere alien to you.

"You don't have any other dreams!?" He sounded scandalized at that, he even peeked at your side, wide golden eyes on you. You suddenly felt yourself tearing up and your mannerism exhibited unconsciously as your breath hitched. "I'm sorry Y/n. Was that a little loud? Sorry, I was just.. surprised."

But you were already shaking and crying from the realization, you can't control it. You're embarassing.

A hand came rubbing your back tentatively, touch hesitating. "I've been in an illusion all this time." You scoffed at yourself. "IーBokuto-san," You gulped before you continue, "I may have ruined things for Kei because of that illusion. He saw how I suffered when my dreams shattered last year. You see, I dreamt of doing nationals come highschool and make a name for myself enough to be a representative for the World Camp but something happened and I can't fulfill that dream anymore. And Kei saw everything and it made him hesitant to try his hardest for he saw pain when I did the same."

"There are also things that I can't tell my family ever since that day. And it's killing me already because I know it will hurt them one day. It will shatter them and it's scary. I just want to run away and be alone. I will hurt people as long as I'm breathing." You sniffed hard and wiped your snot with your hands.

"And you know what, Bokuto-san? I don't even want to be famous! I just want to excel in volleyball, to make my mom and dad the proudest! And now, they're allーOh, it's Tsukishima Y/n, how intimidating~ーAh! It's Y/n! We're doomed!ーCan't they just act normal!?"

"Andー" Your lips quivered as you stopped yourself, realizing you ranted almost half of your worries to a total stranger. And you almost told him about something you weren't even sure you wanna talk about. You buried your face in your palms and sobbed there.

You scolded yourself over and over at your outburst, worried what might the man beside you think. It was all shallow. Still too shallow than what you have kept hidden. Still too shallow to rant about. Oh my God, Y/n, you're really a shame.

The negative thoughts devoured you and you just want the earth to swallow you whole with your sobs right at that moment. You were anxious for the longest time and today may have peaked because of the exchange with Kei. If screaming just won't endanger your body, you would scream at the top of your lungs.

"You're beautiful."

"Huh?" You whipped your tear-and-snot-filled face to meet his eyes. His voice was breathy and his face is full of amazement and you can't even understand why. "What?" You might've heard it wrong. Fuck, your snot's doing their job against your ears. You're hearing things.

"You're beautiful."

Bokuto repeated with a boyish grin and a new batch of tears streamed down your face. You groaned and sobbed harder in your palms as you can't believe what he just said.

You're beautiful.

How could he say that? How could he say that now? Is he blind? Can't he not see? You're full of space debris, inescapable blackholes and exploding supernovas. You are not beautiful.

You felt his hand smoothing out your back again, his tentative touch seared through your hoodie and shirt, straight to your skin. "It's not okay now, but soon it's going to be. You'll figure it all out soon."

You squeezed your eyes shut, face pressed against your knees to stop the tears from falling. You fell silent with him again, his hands moved so slow on your back and it is relaxing.

It's not going to be okay. It'll never gonna be okay, butー

"Thank you." You whispered and turned your head to face him, offering him a small smile, cheek still against your knees. "Thank you, Bokuto-san. I find those things so hard to say out loud. But you made it easier. You somehow made it a lot easier."

He mimicked your body language, cheek resting on his knees too and smiling. "Glad to be of service." You sighed and buried your face again to your knees. "You're.. still shaking. Do you need a hug? Or can I even touch you? I'm sorry I touched you, I rubbed your back."

He saw you peeked to see his face and he got all nervous, he started scratching the back of his neck and pouted. "The last time I attempted to touch you, I was blocked by your friend."

Ah. Like everybody else.

"Any suggestions for a second dream?"

You veered from his topic. He might've noticed it for he came silent for a while, but he smiled nonetheless. How can this guy be so kind? It's scary.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

You exhaled a full amount of stress out of your nose as you felt the wind fanning against your face softly. It's warm now. Maybe because you have been curled up with your hoodie on for quite some time. But it's warm now.

What do you want to do huh. You never thought of that before, except for that closed goal. And every decision you'll have right now doesn't count as a goal for you. But if you'll think about it..

You hummed, biting your lip in deep thought. "Maybe.. make things easier for Kei, as an apology?"

Easier. But you already made it harder for him ever since you joined the team and be a hard-headed sister. He didn't vocalize it on your face, but he hates it and he worries so much about you. You're a burden now.

But you want him to take his moxie back, and succeed.

"Maybe improve his social and sportmanship, volleyball skills, overall? I know he loves volleyball. And I want to create an environment where it'll be fun for him."

You were on a roll as you laid out all what you want to do from now on. It was hesitant at first, but the man beside you showed no resistance and just listened to you, attentively. He keeps on egging you, encouraging you to do more, plan more. He's even more hyped when you talk about your visions of the future, future for Kei and for the team. But he offered a bit of resistance when you told him you wanted Karasuno to be the champ for Spring High. You laughed at his challenge.

He's warm. He's a light-source. He's an unknown force. And above all else..

He's.. pulling you out of the black tar.

You pursed your lips as you laid down on your futon next to him. He just asked why aren't you sleeping yet. It has been an hour after you have resolved your feelings and outbursts. And you were both just talking nonsense, mostly about his Kuroo, Kenma and Akaashi.

"I don't have my plushie. I can't sleep immediately without it."

He stared at you, full of confusion. "Can.. I do something about it?" You looked at him, bewildered at the offer.

It was almost two weeks since that day you saw someone who looks a lot like your horned owl plushies. You remembered staring at that crouching man, on his knees and apologizing about spiking the ball straight to your face. His hair, his brows and his eyes, his total expressionー

You grinned at Koutarou. "Can I touch your hair?"

He might've been so repulsed at your request that he sat up almost immediately. You bit your lip in embarassment. You were about to take back the request when he stared back at you.

"Will that help?" You blinked your eyes in confusion but you nodded eventually.

He silently stood, and you initially thought that you blew the budding friendship you have with him for the last couple of hours. You annoyingly shut your eyes and pouted in regret.

But you opened your eyes when you heard the scrunch sounds of his futon and you saw him repositioning it, perpendicular to yours, the head on your tummy's side. Your lip would have wounds in the morning because of your incessant biting. He's adorable, you can't help it.

Koutarou glanced at you after he laid down comfortably again in his futon. "You can touch it now. It'll help me sleep too, so win-win."

He grinned at you and it made your heart calm, it made you smile back and reach out to his hair. He reached out for your tentative hand and helped you card his soft locks. When you got the rhythm, he smiled eyes closed, his feet seem to dance at the sensation.

What surprised you was when he moved up to rest his head on your tummy and murmured, "This okay?", eyes still closed you thought your hands in his hair really is lulling him to sleep. You hummed in approval, still carding his hair and occassionally rub your thumb to his ear.

You woke up to the sound of your phone alarm. You and Koutarou had made plans about the morning after, now, and you have to move fast or you're both going to get it from your teams.

You sat up and found him face down on his pillow, back on his futon, hand ghosting yours. You smiled at his soft snores, and the funny way his leg hiked up to his body in the comfort of his sleep. You fought the urge to snap a pic of him.

You poked his broad shoulder and he lowly hummed, it made your back shiver at the sound. You bit your lip before poking him again. He murmured something before opening his eyes, staring sleepily back to yours. It was awkwardly silent for a minute, crickets still rang in the wee hours of morning.

"We have to get up, Y/n." You snickered at his drawling husky voice, for you are already up while he's still sprawled at his futon.

"Yup. We still have to shower and do laundry."

"We're not showering at the same time okay? Have to guard you while you shower." He murmured as he sat up, yawning after. You stared at the expanse of his back as he stretches and you smile.

"Okay."

You got off your futon and rolled it with your pillow, Koutarou doing the same with his. He's being pouty because of his incessant yawns, too cute.

"Bokuto-san." He looked down at you when he reached out for your rolled futon to carry it for you. "Why are you doing this?"

His lips scrunched to one side while he thinks, staring up to the skies, throat bobbing as he swallows a lump. He suddenly hummed and looked down at you, same curious but sure golden eyes.

"You feel like Kaori and Yukie, but more. Much more. You feel like Kuroo and Kenma at times, Akaashi even. But much more. Even if I just knew you."

Your confusion got the better of you as you stared at him too confused at his words. He paid no mind explaining it as he leaned to your face, but comfortably out of your personal space.

He smiled so warmly before saying, "I'm glad I met you again."

And it had your heart pounding uncontrollably, but suspiciously painless. You're aware your eyes widen as his eyes seemed to grin as he still stared at you and your reactions. You can't explain what's happening. All you know is there's a question waiting to be asked. Your hands went clammy at your sides, fisting your sweatpants as your knuckles shake.

"ーafter 2 weeks. I want to meet you again and again after this, hm?"

He grinned at your face but that follow-up phrase relaxed the hell out of you. You snorted and smiled back at him in relief.

"Glad I met you again, too, Bokuto-san. Thanks for accompanying me."

He reached out for your head and ruffled your hair as he smiled so brightly at you, along with his eyes so golden. You'd think there's a star directly infront of you while there are more above the Saitama skies that hour.

PREV | CHAP 2 | NEXT [masterlist]

FUN FACTS ::

1. Tobio and Shoyo just barely passed the 80 percentage of the supplemental exams, instead of the 90 percentage the vice-principal mandated them days ago during the wig scuffle.

2. Upon arriving, Shoyo puked at the court, the other boys had to mop it but the stench was still there Asahi had to puke too because of the stench.

3. That night with Eri and Bokuto, with Akaashi and Kuroo, Bokuto was bringing a cold compress and tissues for Y/n, thinking that her nose is still bleeding.

4. Kiyoko continuously teased Y/n throughout the day with Bokuto but it's oblivious to everyone around. Y/n kept pouting while shouting corrections to the team because of that, and Bokuto and some of the boys in the court notices that cute pout.

TAGLIST: @wolffmaiden @koushiwarrior @avygale @charsiuramen

☆ send an ask or msg me if you want to be in the taglist. thanks for the supporttt.

☆ Reblogs and interactions are appreciated. Theories will be entertained.

[alexanderwales]

The Slumbering Projects List

The Current WIP List is anything that I've done some small amount of work on in the last year (with some of them having substantial amounts of work). This is a list of dead slumbering projects, some of which have been slumbering for a long time, as well as some reflection on what went wrong, if anything.

~~~~

The Timewise Tales is a stable time loop fantasy story that revolves around three different characters. The genesis of this one was an old /r/worldbuilding contest entry that I wrote. All it really needs is an ending to be first draft complete, and I know what the ending is, but this is early early work, and it shows.

Sidebar: my enjoyment of my own work follows a pretty predictable curve.

I start with a lot of energy, grind through some of the middle with maybe a slight bump near the end, then have a rut after I've finished where I think the thing sucks. After enough time has passed, I finally have enough distance to think "hey wait, that was actually pretty good".

The curve looks different for different projects, but going into any of them, I have an understanding that my emotional relationship with the work is going to change in this way. The "middling grind" part can sometimes last a long time, and the trough of disappointment is sometimes short, but I would say this is generally how it works for me.

Timewise Tales is not something I've grown to appreciate more with time, so there's a chance that it's just Actually Bad. I don't know what there is that can be saved from it, but probably something. It's 90K words and would probably be complete in another 10K words, but making it good would be more some effort, especially because I would want to rewrite substantial portions. The magic system is cool though, and I think the characters and plot are solid.

~~~~

Robot, Wizard, Vampire is a follow-up to my novella Contratto, which is just about vampires taking over the world. It's a story about two young people who are the last remnants of their underground cell of wizards who are using magic to make robots that fight the vampires. The setting is the late 70s and the two teenage boys are expies of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates. The genesis for this one was someone making a post saying what a terrible idea it would be to include a bunch of dissonant themes in a book. It's 27K words, and from the plot outline, that's about a third of the way through. I reread this recently and think it's fairly good, but didn't put any more effort into it.

~~~~

The Gift and the Burden is about hereditary wizards, following two friends who are divided by one having the gift and the other not. The one with the gift becomes a soldier, the one without a proto-scientist. The outline calls for three acts, and it's stuck toward the end of the second act. 60K words, and in theory outlined for 100K. There's a lot that I like in this one, though it's early work, and definitely a lot to punch up and sand down. I keep meaning to go back to this one.

~~~~

A Series of Fights Without Any Meaning was a battle school type thing, mostly revolving around magical swordplay, which is used by the society to settle disputes via swordfights, something that highly favors the nobility. 16K words. Part of the conceit is that the newest generation has a non-noble who is absurdly good with a blade, and we follow her through the perspective of other characters, always unsure of her thoughts. I wasn't a huge fan of the magic system I came up with, and some of the other worldbuilding is irritating in retrospect, but neither of those are huge unfixable flaws at this point. Probably will never get more work put into it though.

~~~~

The Wayward Souls is a novel about a detective who dies and gets awakened three centuries later in a different body. It's a world where souls are real and can be extracted to be stored in glass jars. There's a version of this that's 45K and a different rewrite version that's 21K, and I don't actually think they share much in common. The main plot is that someone has stolen the emperor's soul, but the secondary plot is the fish out of water stuff. I think this had a few influences that were probably too strong, and a few things that annoyed me, but I can't recall what without doing some rereading. Almost certainly dead in the water.

~~~~

Pub Crawl is based off a meme I saw once that said "you meet in a tavern" and then "you open the door to leave and it's another tavern" and then "it's all taverns, the whole campaign is taverns". And I thought: I can write that! Currently 40K words, at some point I thought this was going to be my next web serial. I think the characters weren't quite right though, and lost steam, even though the outline was very solid. I had this great idea for a "pub map" that would update every few chapters, showing the known pub space as it sprawled out into strange areas.

~~~~

There are lots of others, but those are the substantial ones, the ones that really had a chance to become something and are now sleeping, most of them never to wake up again. I had high hopes for all these at one point, but my time and ability to write is precious, and must be jealously guarded against false pretenders.

[sam-glade]

Author Ask Game

Tagged by the lovely @mariahwritesstuff here, @writernopal here, and @tisiphonewolfe here, @void-botanist here - thank you all💜

Gently passing the tag to: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @vollzz @rbbess110 @flock-from-the-void @pheita @i-can-even-burn-salad (feel free to ignore if you've done it already)

1. What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

I don't write with the aim to teach a lesson. However, after figuring out the plot, I'll look back and see what message I can focus on. Usually, it's kindness, but I also hope to inspire people to find strength within themselves.

2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

A lot of real world cultures and history. In the case of my main setting, the amount of research into the history and culture of Central and Eastern Europe in the 18th century (especially the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth) would probably be enough to write straight up historical fiction, buuuut I like the fantasy elements, and I don't enjoy writing non-queernormative societies. So here we are.

The second instalment, The Truth Teller, is again in a fantasy version of the Eastern Bloc, and I get a lot of inspiration from talking to people who've lived there in the second half of the 20th century.

Finally, The Fulcrum is an exercise in worldbuilding. It started with a question, what would happen if evolution took a different path, and the dominant sentient species was most closely resembling birds. Other than that, I use it as an excuse to explore other periods in history - primarily late-Bronze and Iron Age.

3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

The goal is different every time. E.g. for Days of Dusk:

In Gifts of Fate, Lissan is the MC, and he wants to survive without hurting anyone (the demon possessing him makes it difficult). What I want to achieve with him is to inspire people to persevere.

In The Prince's Shadow Erya is trying to kill Lissan, while dealing with complicated grief. My goal is to inspire people to move on, without preaching forgiveness (the two main characters still hate each other at the end).

In Prodigal Children, Lissan, Erya, and Gullin are the three MCs who are told with absolute certainty that something terrible will happen and it will result in war. They each try to deal with it in a different way. Erya aims to minimise the damage. Gullin thinks he can't do anything about it, so he focuses on protecting his loved ones. Lissan refuses to accept that it will happen at all. My goal as the writer is to showcase that each of these responses has its merits and can't be condemned from the get go.

4. How many chapters is your story going to have?

I'm a pantser, so I can answer it only for completed drafts. Gifts of Fate currently has 49 chapters, averaging just over 2k words each - with the total being 109k.

5. Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Everything I post on this blog is original. I don't plan to post the novel-length project online - I'm hoping to publish them traditionally. Some side WIPs may end up being posted here or on AO3 (the unnamed parody thingy that still needs a title), and my Silmarillion fanfiction can be found here (more to come).

6. When and why did you start writing?

I vaguely recall writing my first fantasy heroine self-insert story at the age of 11 or so, then Tolkien fanfiction when I was 15-18, then original fiction onwards. It started as an outlet to my creativity, but now it's to get some peace and quiet in my mind. If I don't put the stories down on paper, they keep buzzing in my head, being distracting.

7. Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

Words of encouragement? Just do it. Imperfect doesn't mean bad. Don't let 'perfect' be the enemy of 'good'.

I follow a tonne of writeblrs, so here are a handful of shoutouts: @acertainmoshke @writernopal @tabswrites @toribookworm22 @winterandwords @aether-wasteland-s

Blank questions below:

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When and why did you start writing?

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

[lost-technology]

A fan-Plant concept. So, @tragic-unpaired-electron wrote a fic in which Rem manages to save Tesla, the Twins grow up with a big sister and a better planet than Noman's Land is discovered for settlement. Sun, Moon and Stars. Not everything is perfect. It's quite a dramatic ride with its various twists and tragedies as well as the heartwarming. Anyway, the author came up with the concept that different types of Dependent Plants birth different types of Independents when more start reproducing. Tesla, Nai and Vash came from an energy Plant, which trend toward the human-looking. Others, however, such as the Hydroplants and Gravity Plants have children with different appearances and "Pygmy Plants" seem to have small offspring in general. I asked permission to play with my own fan-concept. So, here is an original character I sketched up. Don't mind the shadow of my hand, there, my scanner was not scanning the neon colored pencil I used well so I had to take a digital photograph. This is Spinx. She's the offspring of a particular type of food-production Plant. My fan-concept ties in with something I've used in my own fanfiction before: I think that most of the food in Trigun's setting is just Plant-produced and while it probably falls to Geoplants / flora-producers to create the vegetable and fruit matter, or possibly another sub-division of food-producers, some Plants produce what basically amounts to artificial meat and other protein-sources. In other words, that "salmon" in Vash's beloved salmon sandwiches and that steak he appears to be eating in the beginning of the manga, in my personal headcanon comes from Plants that make cloned flesh - meat without a living animal involved. Sure, some meat canonically comes from the Worms and from toma, but I figure if anyone eats any ham or steak or fish sandwiches, it's coming from some kind of protien-production Plant. And here's where the concept comes in: This sub-division of food-making Plants, while looking like regular ol' Plants, themselves, generate Independents that reflect just a little bit of livestock in them - hence, centaurs. They're known as Centaur Plants because no one wants to call them Meat Plant Offspring, because that's kind of gross. They have three toes / hooves on each foot, the elongated arms and fingers of a Dependent Plant on their humanoid end, feathery hair and tail-fringe and are otherwise covered head to toe, even their faces, in soft fur / short hair. Most of them don't like wearing clothes, but tend to be covered by their ruffs enough not to be indecent. Housing / accommodations for them need to be open-plan - Houses for them when they become adults tend to resemble more barns than houses and they like large open spaces as they enjoy running. There are pygmy versions, small ones, but Spinx here... one of the few things I know about her right now is that she, personally, was born of a main Plant / Master Plant and is HUGE. She's the size of a draft horse. I also like the idea that she is asexual, just because my persuasion is so seldom represented in either media or fan-media. I am not sure if I'm actually going to use this character anywhere, so she's just here.

[satashiiwrites]

Hmm... for the WIP ask game either your current NaNo project, Stay, or Afterthoughts (or all 3 of them if you want lol). Your choice! <3

Sure, we can do all three.

Choices and Regrets is a 911/Buddie version/fusion of the novel Dark Matter by Blake Crouch (which is one of my all time favorite books and Apple is making into a TV series). I’m doing this fic for November’s Rough Trade using the second chances part of the prompt as well as a NaNoWriMo because I have the feeling the ending word count is going to be north of 70k. I weirdly have a bunch of November off because I’m switching jobs so I HOPE to have most of the fic written/out by the end of the month. We’ll see how i’m doing. It’s the 8th and I’m at 14K written out of a goal of 50k.

The basic premise is do you like the choices you made in your life or do you have regrets? I’m setting this in 9-1-1 post lightning strike in season 6 and ignoring almost anything canon after that point (no Natalia or Marisol). We start the fic with Buck being invited to go out for celebratory drinks with Connor as he managed to get his wife pregnant without Buck’s donation. Buck is maudlin about how he hasn’t found someone to settle down with and have kids with. He’s pining over Eddie but doesn’t want to upset the apple cart. Eddie talks him into going to have a drink and to close that chapter of his life then come back for a late dinner at Casa Diaz.

Buck is then kidnapped by a stranger who doesn’t tell him want they want from him. When he wakes, he’s in a different, parallel universe where the him in that universe made much different choices. Nobody he considers found family knows him. Meanwhile, the parallel universe’s Buck is taking his place and makes a move on Eddie who has also been silently pining over Buck (they’re two halves of the same idiot).

What will Buck do to get back home and to his Eddie? Will Eddie be happy with the alternate Buck or does he figure out that something’s not right?

The novel this is based on is a thriller but I’d also say it has a romance side to it. What would you do to get back to the one you love?

I am planning on putting Buck and Eddie through the wringer. All the angst and then some smex.

To read what I’ve currently got yeeted, read chapter one and two here on rough trade

And for a little spoiler, this is a line i’m wanting to use in this fic that i came up with a few months ago and has been sitting abandoned in my tidbits folder:

“You told me once to not go chasing waterfalls and I didn’t know what you meant at all. And i did. I chased the damn waterfalls big time and I’m in trouble and I think I need your help. That you’re the only one who can help.”

Stay is another one of those tidbit folders. It’s got… not much in it. Just a bit that i thought of randomly. It doesn’t belong to any fic at the moment. Could become a full fledged one-shot character study, could end up co-opted into something bigger. This is all in the head/POV of Eddie Diaz from 9-1-1. First draft.

Stay. Please stay with me.

Eddie’s used to being left behind by people who are supposed to stick with him. The army? He’d managed to pull his entire team out of a burning helicopter, taken three bullets and they’d forced him out, telling him thanks for his service but he can’t stay with them.

Nowhere to go but home, right?

Texas wasn’t home anymore. Home shouldn’t itch under your skin like a three day old bruise. Adjusting to civilian life after being dumped by the army… he hadn’t handled it well. Eddie could say that not that he had distance and time to reflect on that period of time.

No wonder Shannon hadn’t stayed—he’d been a mess.

Still was, actually. He’s just better at hiding it.

Afterthoughts is a series of codas I’ve been doing while re-watching 9-1-1 during hiatus. I’ve been doing a bad job of keeping up with it and most of this is angsty as hell.

Testifying in court is actually pretty rare for firefighters and if anything, Bobby usually is the one who gets put on the witness stand as captain.

Not this time though.

This time, Buck was the one who got the gun pointed at him and he’s being called to testify because even Chim didn’t hear quite everything Lola said to him.

He told the DA that he wasn’t going to be very helpful. The news camera footage should be enough to plead her out but evidently Lola’s traffic disturbance had upset some important people and they didn’t want it to become a regular occurrence so they wanted jail time.

Jail time for rescuing your marriage? The romantic in Buck actually thought it was kinda sweet—even if he hadn’t enjoyed having a gun pointed at his chest.

So Buck was being called.

As a hostile witness.

Why were they actually going to trial about this again?

Lola had been charged with a PC 647c, aka Obstructing Movement to a Public Place—also known as the freeway. It was a misdemeanor but carried up to 180 days. The DA wanted those 180 days. Was practically salivating over them for some reason. So they were calling Buck and Athena to testify.

If anyone wants to read the posted codas, I’ve broken them into fics by season. Read the completed season one here on AO3 or the partially posted season 2 here.

[driflew]

six sentence sunday! this time i think ill focus on torchlight, but ill throw in a fun fact about from here to there as well

1. basically every single watcher in the OG draft was a woman, simply bc every single time i went “oh, this'll be easier with a different set of pronouns” and defaulted immediately to she/her. i realized i accidentally implied the cult was woman-only and swapped two or three of them to men, but. not uh, not that many, cuz it still is easier to do dialogue when people have different pronouns,

2. how martyn gets the information he does abt ren varies pretty greatly from the version of this i made up originally, which isn't a bad thing but it is sort of funny. ive said this on tumblr the day i made up the au, but originally most of the information abt ren was supposed to come from being around the city. i realized it wasnt super feasible (and wanted to give bigb more stuff to do) so stuff changed, but this was definitely a different story to start

3. related, martyn wasnt quite so... hopeless? desperate? in the plan? that sprung up on me while i was writing and i doubled back upon editing to make him worse. worked out pretty well, id say, to make everything abt the emotional core of the fic more interesting, but it wasnt quite intentional

4. ive alluded to the desert duo plot on my tumblr a few times. it does exist, but i dunno if it'll ever come up on-page. if it does, it'll probs be me skipping to the end of it, bc thats when martyn and grian see each other again and this is a renchanting au. this is something im pretty excited for, tho i dont have it fleshed out overmuch. it did make me laugh how many ppl brought up curiosity over grian’s fate in the comments, tho. hes alive, i promise! haven't you guys ever heard no body, no death?

5. the magical deadzone concept for martyn and grain was more relevant in the OG plot from point 2, but some minor changes were made w jimmy and bigb that made it not quite work out the same. it still words--they have to leave bc martyn cant fly and they cant cast on him--but originally the watchers let bigb and jimmy go specifically bc they were explicitly, in-text looking for unusual interactions with magic, like deadzones. thats more... loosely implied now, i guess

6. finally, your fun fact about here to there. the OG draft of the scene w the bow had martyn trying to convince ren to essentially create a fire aspect sword. i scrapped it bc i realized one) ren would definitely go with this, not go against it, two) i dont know how that would work without melting martyn’s sword or ren falling off the sword on his hand, three) neither of these men would consider these and i didnt want to deal with the stupid mess they were about to create

[murdomaclachlan]

In first or second year of secondary school, aged about 11 or 12. I was bored in English and started writing in my jotter.

It was called A Daemon's Influence and it was terrible. (In terms of prose and dialogue, the story actually wasn't too bad I think.) I have since written better drafts of it, but not for a while. It still needs a lot of work.

Mainly, Fantasy (both High and Low) and Science Fiction (so far, Dying Earth and Science Fantasy).

Fantasy. At the moment, mostly in settings where the magic isn't immediately noticeable or big and flashy (with one exception)

I don't do tropes intentionally, they just sort of happen sometimes. I'm a big fan of dream sequences, do they count?

Again I don't really explore topics intentionally. Stories come into my head and I write them down. Usually topics grow naturally from them, like wildflowers in a well-nurtured but not overly-curated garden.

Ratatosk. In one of my current WIPs, he talks too much and runs away from conflict.

Most of them. From a different WIP, Vyria Garrigan is extremely unlike me. She would spend her whole life in the sky if she could. I am scared of flying.

Multiple times, but it needs to be done with extreme care and not very often.

Tanglewood. Not the concert theatre, a British folklore-based low fantasy setting centred around a magical forest called Tanglewood.

I'm not sure what this means. As in something about my own work that isn't canon? No. If I write it, it's canon.

Often I feel like characters frown, shrug, glance or "look up" too much.

Encouragement and advice from a teacher, when I was about 14/15. She said my writing was exactly the sort of story she could see her partner reading. Gave me the push I needed to really go properly into writing and I've only ever grown more passionate about it thereafter.

Romance. With very few exceptions, I avoid it like the plague.

I've become very liberal with scene breaks within a chapter (e.g. the three asterisks thing or however you choose to format it). Frances Hardinge uses them a lot and I've found it to be very effective. Also, in stories with multiple viewpoint characters, I no longer have a little note at the start of a chapter/scene to say who the viewpoint character is. I used to, but again Frances Hardinge changed my mind. The end of Unraveller just flicks between viewpoint characters quick as you can snap your fingers without any little note to tell you who's next and it's excellent.

When I read a really great book I get the urge to write. So, at the moment, Unraveller. I could gush about Unraveller for years. Also, Norse mythology and my dreams. A lot of my stories started out as dreams. Sometimes from random pieces of art I see.

I have lots of current WIPs. Here's a fact for one of them: three out of the four viewpoint characters are birds.

"Before we proceed, we will have to have a conversation about what you must not do in Tanglewood. Do not follow voices. Do not follow strange lights. Do not go where you are beckoned. Do not ever trust your own reflection."

From the WIP with birds, another line of dialogue: "Adults don’t know anything either. Not one of us. Not even the gods, I expect. Some of us think we know things, or comfort ourselves by pretending we do, and a wise few of us know only that we know nothing. We all just have to guess and hope we guess right."

If you're having trouble with dialogue, as I often do, read it to yourself aloud. It's often very helpful for pinning down which parts aren't flowing naturally. Also, write every idea down. Just all of it, even if it doesn't seem like it's a good idea, make a note of it. If you don't like how something turned out and want to re-write it, keep the old version if you can. You might change your mind or want to refer back to it later down the line.

Writer's Ask Game

When did you start writing?

What was the first story you've ever written?

What genres have you written for so far?

What is your favourite genre to write for?

What is your favourite trope to write for?

What topic would you love to explore in your writing?

Who is the OC that is most like you?

Which OC is nothing like you?

Have you ever brought an OC back from the dead?

In which of your stories would you like to live?

Have you ever written fanfiction about your own work?

Do you have a word/phrase that you overuse in your writing?

What feedback did you receive for your writing that stuck with you?

What is something that you feel weird/uncomfortable writing about?

What is your current writing habit?

Where do you find inspiration to write?

Tell us a fun fact about your current WIP.

Show us a piece of dialogue you really like.

Show us the line you want readers to remember from your story.

Do you have one piece of advice for your fellow writers?

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #64

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please enjoy.

Disney’s The Girl Without Hands - Review

Why did they make this?

I’ve reviewed a lot of films in my day, but this one has to be the most baffling. After the middling reception to Wish, their previous feature, most hoped that Walt Disney Animation would take a step back and reorient themselves. If they don’t know how to get back to their roots, maybe they should try something new instead?

Sadly, that wasn’t the case here. Digging down to the bottom of the barrel, the studio decided now was a good time to make a musical adaptation of an obscure Grimm fairy tale about amputation. Despite the name of the story, the hand-less-ness is really just an incidental detail. It’s really a story about the devil trying to get a young girl to sin so he can take her soul, and when put that way it sounds like this could be a slam dunk. Maybe they could have come up with a different name to fit modern sensibilities - The Girl Without Evil, maybe, I don’t know. Their writers get paid a hell of a lot more than I do.

When you watch it, though, you’ll be forgiven for thinking not a single person working on this film so much as read a synopsis of the original story. There’s no devil, no climactic scene of the protagonist’s hands being cut off, nothing like that at all. She’s already hand-free when the lights fall in the theater. The opening song is called I Want To Have Hands. Yeesh. Yeesh and woof. Plus, it’s written by Lin-Manuel Miranda.

I’ll give them this: it sounds like a real musical number and not a pop song, but it’s just embarrassing. It’s an unending stream of jokes about how having hand stumps makes it really hard to work on a farm - like, the tools are meant for people to use with hands. She lists every single farm tool that she can’t use, and then tries to use a hoe with her mouth during the song. I wouldn’t even know the lyrics of that section if I hadn’t been given access to the demo version, recorded by Lin-Manuel himself. Suffice to say, they don’t improve things.

The villain of this film is another one of those twist villains, but you can see it coming from a mile away. Of course it’s her father, he has four hands. He made a deal with an evil wizard so he could do more farm work at once, and the wizard gave him his daughter’s hands so he could hold two tools at the same time. It’s complete nonsense, and accusations of Disney having used AI on the script are only far-fetched in that I don’t think an LLM could come up with something so deranged.

So, what about our protagonist? What’s her personality like? Essentially, she’s clumsy. That’s her whole character. She’s always trying to grab things but her arm stumps knock them over. How can a person go her whole life without hands and forget that she can’t grab a glass of goat milk from the table? She should know by now she needs to use a straw.

Anyway, her father arranges her to marry a wealthy aristocrat, but her heart belongs to a winemaker with no feet. I have to give Disney props here for decent wheelchair user representation, but the motorized scooter really pulls me out of the medieval era this is allegedly set in. Ditto for the talking cow, Hope, voiced by Chris Pratt in falsetto, who regularly talks about taking selfies and how hard it is to do that with hooves. Read the room, Hope, it’s even harder to do that with stumps.

At some point, the film just ends. She gets her hands back, sure, but none of the other plot points are resolved, so one might suppose that they thought, “well, she has hands now, so we should save the rest of this for the sequel.” I don’t think they’ll be making a sequel. But maybe the avant-garde crowd will appreciate a big-budget animated feature without a three-act structure. All I can tell you is that I decidedly did not.

The animation was lousy, the music middling, the plot contrived and nonsensical, and it made me yearn for a time when Home on the Range was the worst we could expect from Disney. The popcorn was the most enjoyable aspect of seeing this film… and it was stale.

4/10

⭐⭐⭐⭐

[winter-spark]

I know self-diagnosis is valid and that as you learn more you're okay to be like oh I was wrong it's actually maybe this and whatever but I'm a bit of a coward, or well I still don't want to insert myself in spaces that I don't might not belong in and I've always hated the idea of talking about things without 100% certainty/information but uh my possible {self-}diagnosis is sorta leaking into my writing. Or at least I'm doing things in my writing then later hearing about/being reminded of things and sorta going :o so I'm gonna write about that below. Somewhat a vent post I suppose.

So... Uh I guess, besides explaining my potential diagnosis, there's currently gonna be three parts of this. My personal series Letting Go, my A3! writing, and my Buddyfight writing. And there's gonna be a lot of uncertainty here so I apologize if it at all wastes your time but here I go.

Me:

So... I might be autistic. This is something my sisters and I have been looking into for a minute tbh. Like a couple years at this point. We've taken a few different tests and started somewhat watching informational videos on autism and diagnoses and stuff, and like signs are pointing to yea probably. but like, idk. We were gonna put a pin in it until we could move but we unpinned because it wasn't helping to have it pinned. But yea, I might be autistic. Things I've looked into less that I might also have(?) ADHD, AFRID, mild dyslexia, but I've gotta do more research and it's not really about those but I thought I'd throw them out because idk some times holding things in for too long turns them to rot. But anyway, since I've been doing research on autism I was thinking maybe possibly whether I am or not my main character, Miles, is. He's from my series

Letting Go:

Now, Miles, I projected to some extent on when I wrote him but also he's very different from me but none the less there's few things that I had that could be signs of autism and I was wondering how to add more because I did want to sorta write him as an undiagnosed autistic. So in my writing before the research was my movie for my Screenwriting classes. Things about Miles, from the earlier drafts:

He is kinda sensitive to too many sounds, especially voices, at once (trait from me), (it increases when he's in a nervous/panicked state idk if that has to do with anything but I wanted to clarify that)

His, maybe, special interest is space, namely Pluto (and maybe baking)

(I had to sorta look back at this when editing/setting up for version like 4/5 which became a tv series but) he's not always great with picking up what others are putting down socially (version 1 he did not realize that another character was legitimately romantically into him, he didn't realize that, now one of his best friends, was worried about him,) like you do have to be a bit more direct with him (but not as much as Leilani but that's a different point completely)

So like, I was like maybe I should give him more traits? Like like this isn't in order and I can't remember everything but I was like okay, I, maybe, have a chewing stim, maybe I should give that to him too. (I need to double-check what his mannerisms are omg) And I say maybe have a chewing stim because I don't know if it has another name but I know that sometimes I just need to chew on something, but I've sorta conditioned myself out of it because my mom didn't appreciate me chewing on my pajama clothes and my personal stapler broke(yes I used to chew on staples). So like you know maybe that.

But also maybe I was thinking I would line his sorta panic attack with an autistic meltdown. See a big point in the story is when at a party he ends up sorta panicking and running away then he just sits by himself at like a bus stop which is where his grandma finds him, but like I wasn't sure how to do that because I was doing research and I wasn't sure how to quite make that so and if the things around it were right(I didn't do this research recently I'm sorry I'm super blanking). but I was watching this video earlier by I'm Autistic, Now What? called The 4 Types of Autistic Meltdowns, and one she mentioned was leaving/running away. Which as I mentioned he does. And I think maybe I was worried about build up/triggers but now I'm thinking more about that and maybe there is enough.

Ugh I don't want to "spoil" it but like, he's an introvert, he's a homebody(sorta), he's never had that many friends, so this was his first time going to a party with a group of friends, a group of friends that almost immediately split up, and he ends up stumbling back into one of them, but he's a little conscious about his crush flirting with someone else at the party, then his old bully is there and is harassing him and keeps mentioning Miles being a momma's boy and this is sorta more sensitive because his mom is in the hospital at the time(not a spoiler that's the (omg I'm a terrible film student what do you call the event that triggers the rest of the story, sets it in motion that's what that is)). He steps away for like to seconds to talk a breath but when he returns it is being revealed that his mom is in the hospital and [redacted because it was originally a surprise bit of info but now I just don't want to reveal this because it is still sorta a spoiler] which sends him over the edge where he borderline starts shouting and then just darts out.

And like maybe that works? I don't know. What I also don't know is if I should've even included my

A3! writing:

See, after one of the high points of my research on autism I was looking at a lot of Itaru content stuff and sorta was like is... is Itaru Autistic? Now I don't make it a point to write him as such but Itaru has become one of the characters I for some reason feel need to project onto. So when I write him I do give him me-adjacent traits and looking at some things I'm a bit like hmmm, am I maybe writing him autistic?

See-- oh shoot I should have mentioned this in the me category, okay so I might be demi-romantic, demisexual. I'm not 100% sure but with the research I've done I figure that's possibly why of the very few crushes I had it took a while for me to be like "oh! I have a crush on this person!" like literally one of them I didn't come to the conclusion until I was trying that wellness with Steven Universe/Rebecca Sugar thing and one of the days was just write what comes to your mind and as I was doing my best to do that(my mind goes very fast but I had to have complete thoughts) I got to a point where I was talking about one of my best friends and I was like "yea it'd be cool if we were still close in the future and maybe lived together and then we could go on runs together and cook together and cuddle on the couch watching movies together" literally visualizing this future together and then and I don't even remember if I considered a peck or not but I was like "oh shoot Do I have a crush on him?"

Now you're probably like, what's this gotta do with Itaru and autism? Well see in one of my CitoIta fics I gave him that trait of not quite catching on until he gets to a certain point "oh shoot, do I like him romantically, what?" so I figured I was just making him demi-romantic. (Which he still could be idk) but anyway. I saw this post a couple months back that said that not being able to quite tell if it's platonic or romantic can be a neurodivergent trait. So what if I gave it to him as like a subconscious neurodivergent, mayhaps autism, thing, idk if he's written as autistic in this story tho. I was actually initially thinking about in my Apartments au, where he basically starts scripting his interactions with his friendly neighbor (a sorta of "Okay, if we run into each other again I we have a conversation, I can ask this, and if he mentions this I can mention this" type thing. Oh tho he slightly does that in the first one I mentioned not to the same extent but he does prep how to say a line(wording and delivery) if asked what he's doing.

And speaking of characters I project onto let's hop over to

Future Card Buddyfight Fics:

So the closest I personally have ever been to "kin"-ing a character was Kiri Hyoryu, and I simply mean this in a "I related to him so hard" way like he was me foreal, okay, obviously lots of differences but point is I was able to see myself in him. Before they completely ruined him for me, that's an essay I've already written and will write again. but not this essay. So of course I wrote Buddyfight but mainly Team Disaster fanfiction(they aged with me in my writing lol). Some are actually posted too. but like in my most recent unfinished work, I was really feeling that need to project onto him. So I gave him a... something. It was similar to what I experienced but somewhat different. And as I continued writing, a character who happened to be there was like "I want to be able to help if it happens again, what sorta thing helps, can I ask if that a panic attack or an anxiety attack."(he was planning on doing additionally research on them as a whole) & I went ":0". And tried to research them and figure it out but like I couldn't. And going back to the video I was watching on the types of Autistic Meltdowns, I don't know but I kinda think that maybe he had an autistic meltdown?

But like here's the thing, how am I doing that? I not once considered Kiri as autistic. Just like a character that was as me as I was gonna get. He had a hard time making lasting friendships partly because he moved a lot, and latched onto his person(s) and just wanted to know he'd be remembered by those he cared about. Sure he was a bit whiny, I got why people thought he was annoying but it made him more like me, because I got why. I felt his pain. Even if none of it was real.

And I never really thought me and Itaru were all that alike but I feel the need to project onto him at times, and just like adjacently, like that long post about CitoIta playing Kingdom Hearts, I promise you a lot of Itaru's faves are different from my but also close enough, like Itaru being a Kingdom Hearts fan is because I'm a Kingdom Hearts fan, and he's a twewy fan too because I'm a twewy fan, like he's a gamer how can I not? But also he's nothing like me even in those regards. Like I know he's a freaking Shoka fan in terms of Neo and that he played the og twewy back when it first came out. And he's legit a gamer, I'm hardly one.

And of course my own oc, who doesn't project at least a little on their ocs. I don't have a point here on him tho. All in all I'm just like yeesh. What am I supposed to do with this?

I was gonna say I might have to accept that I really am probably autistic but I'm still nervous about trampling on other's space, interjecting myself where I don't be long that I realized something. Accidents do happen, yada yada if it's three times it's a pattern I've written lots of characters and stories so it'd have to be more than three four times... Five, more than five times, shoot I forgot Retsu's also a scripter(still Bfight character). But like yea, I'll probably start rereading my works to see if there's anything more in there that suggests that I maybe give autistic traits to characters I write and I know the less I project onto a character the less I can count it maybe? Idk, but like I just think that maybe I've over reacting idk. Time will tell I guess. I just don't want to be wrong you know?

This I know is nothing solid, I've been writing this for nearly three hours(I'm at work but it is a slow-ish day) without looking at any really research and just vaguely using my memory to make points so I might even more so be wrong idk, idk, idk.

[jreynoldsward]

Writing accountability post # 3 and some thoughts about serialization

So this was the week that things kinda fell apart.

Hey, sooner or later I knew I would have a bad week. I got some words down, but there were a couple of days that were more about doing other things and not getting words down.

Mind you, some of those things that I did were important, after all. One day that ended up with several lengthy phone calls with husband and friends. One day of managing problems with an online insurance payment. Several days of grogginess due to body aches because of medicine hangovers.

Stuff happens. It's just the way it is.

On the other hand, I managed to get A Different Life: Now. Always. Forever. uploaded to Amazon, Draft2Digital, and IngramSpark. I made the full wrap cover for the paperback. That whole process took a big chunk out of one day, but now the book is uploaded and in pre-orders for the February 7th release.

I finished enough of Federation Cowboy to get ten episodes uploaded to Kindle Vella. It will start releasing 3x a week on Tuesday. Now I just need to get several more big chunks written so that I can focus on other things, like creating marketing plans for the year. Setting up accounts as part of my promotional plan. Planning the fantasy series, or at least beginning some sort of planning so that I can start work on it in a month or two. Fiddling with Pinterest and Post.

The Goddess's Vision books are not going to be serialized. I may change my mind at some point, but right now, Kindle Vella is for work that is partially visualized and is my incentive to get that stuff finished and out in the world. If bonuses end in March, as rumored, then it will be less of a priority. I just don't seem to have many readers there. Martiniere Stories is pretty much committed to The Cost of Power for 2023. Though I've had some interesting little twists pop up...such as well, I might end up doing more with the Zingter nanos (which will start showing up in the serial version about March). I've come up with some thoughts about just how Ruby manages to implement mind control vocals in this world without formal training and programming, and it's all tied into Zingter. Ruby in this universe may also start seeing the multiverse-traveling digital thought clones at about the same time as Gabe--and this universe's Philip becomes aware of them very early, especially the version of himself that is aggressively attacking other versions of Gabe and Ruby in other universes. And...influencing other versions of Philip to go over-the-top.

But this is more of a fanfic project (yes, I consider writing alternative versions of my own world to be fanfiction, maybe my ultimate fanfic).

Federation Cowboy is also taking some significant twists from the original plan. It's going to be interesting when I start balancing the serial work with non-serial work, because what I am really starting to like about serial work is that I can work on one thing for a while, get ahead of required episodes for several weeks (if not months), and then work on another project while letting that one simmer. I think it's actually causing me to create more meaningful work because of that simmer stage. I'll not completely leave a serial project alone--I'll go back and poke at it, tweak what's already been posted (but not post revisions, serial work is rough draft only), and let the brain chew on what I have in progress.

Having stories be drafted in a serial form with set release times is actually kinda freeing, really. I can say to myself, "well, I'm this far ahead on this project, so I can turn my focus elsewhere" without losing precious momentum. It's very interesting and different. Hit a roadblock on one project? Well, with enough of a publication cushion, I can switch out to something that needs advancing. The Substack schedule is once a week while the Vella schedule is three times a week. I'm doing much more drafting with Substack, while with Vella, I'm poking at already-written stuff that just needs to be extended into something that is at least novella-length.

With non-serial projects, though, there isn't that sense of accomplishment when I've written enough to upload for publication. I have to plug straight through the rough draft, then the first revision, then get it out to betas, then revise again.

Will I be able to do both, or will I break down and serialize the Goddess's Vision books?

We shall see.

[definitelynotshouting]

[Image ID: a screenshot of tumblr user yellowsomethings' tags. They read: #PREV NORMAL PEOPLE MAKE SMALL EDITS TO THE TEXT THEY WROTE THE FIRST TIME #NOT REWRITE THE ENTIRE FIC LINE BY LINE. End ID.]

Im feeling sillygoofy and this got a small sudden resurgence of notes so let me actually explain my process in more detail. Bear with me guys this is gonna be long.

What im doing each time i self-edit (and this is not my editing process AT ALL for other people's work btw, this is just for me) is:

Rewriting the entire fic sentence by sentence, line by line, but in chunks of paragraphs and with different Stylization Rules. It's a little hard to describe these personal rules (i call it my "fancy writing") but on a technical level, im first considering how the individual sentence sounds by itself vs how it sounds within the entire paragraph, and then challenging myself to go deeper-- to write it again but with more detail, more vivid imagery, to bring in a better and clearer picture of what's going on.

But as i do this, im also avoiding and writing around 99% of any adverbs previously used in the rough draft. Im cutting out filter words entirely (feel, see, hear, taste, feel, realize, etc.) and instead describing in detail the actual actions surrounding them. Im avoiding sentences that start with "the," "there is," and "he/she/they/it (etc)" and keeping a mental tally of exactly how many i've used, how long ago i've used them, and how many more sentences i feel i can go before i can use them again (this is generally situational and intuitive for me). Im looking at my individual word choices for each sentence and asking myself if there is a more sophisticated, refined word for this, that is still applicable while achieving the imagery im trying to get across.

Im making sure i have my characters positioned clearly and that there's continuity to their actions (if someone has lifted their arm, i need to write them lowering it again at some point. If a character is making tea, i need to interject the narrative and dialogue with their process as they make it, to whatever degree of detail im aiming for). Im refusing to name emotions and instead using a combination of setting elements and physical reactions to convey how it actually feels. Im keeping another mental tally of how often i've used any given specific word (invisible words that connect and bridge the gaps between other words and clauses dont count, nor does the beloved word "said/says," of which i feel Very Strongly about), and only using it again if absolutely necessary, after a certain amount of paragraphs have passed. Im checking the flow both within the sentence and how it connects to the rest of the paragraph, making sure its smooth and that the whole thing is interesting, rhythmically speaking, to read.

And, of course, i'm keeping an eye on my pacing, constantly going back and forth to reread what i've already rewritten and making sure it fits well into the greater narrative.

This is how i turn rough draft paragraphs like this:

[Image ID: a screenshot of a single paragraph on a white background. It reads: Grian's moving before he even thinks about it, fingers clenching around the handle of his fallen axe and passing it over without a moment's hesitation. There's trust, there, in the ropes of his tendons. Trust that's hard-pressed to stay wound tight beneath his ribcage, like a ball of yarn being teased out by a particularly persistent cat. For once, Grian can't muster up the energy to be upset about it. End ID.]

Into final draft versions like this:

[Image ID: a screenshot of three paragraphs on a white background. They read: Trust, Grian has discovered, lies in the tendons. Roping, strained, an aberration of his fingers stretching over each bruised knuckle, mapping the valleys in between. It lingers the way blood cloys– tacky, stained, scarlet. Nothing truly washes it clean. When trust winds beneath your ribcage, the inevitability is that, at some point, it tangles; a helpless snarl of red puppet threads weaving through ventricles and veins.

And as much as Grian has tried to tease it out, claw for relief, it remains; stubborn, unyielding, a tree unbowed to the storm. The ship in a bottle. A butterfly, frozen in amber. His own two battered hands.

He passes Scar the axe without hesitation. End ID.]

Now these aren't all the Stylization Rules i use in my "fancy writing," but its the gist of them. And i adapt some of them as i need to, depending on tone and genre and whatnot. Also as a disclaimer, im not claiming this is the way anyone should write. This is just my own personal process, for my own very specific style that i've cultivated over the years. As a matter of fact dont do all of this to yourself it takes for-fucking-ever to produce anything /lh. I like it though because im insane and if im not painting with my words then im just not satisfied with my art

(apologies for the length of this addition and if the ID tags are not properly formatted; ive never done this before but i wanted to make the screenshots more accessible to everybody. Please shoot me an ask if they need to be adjusted!)

My favorite activity recently is telling my writing friends the fucked up way i self-edit my fics, re:

[ladyartemesia]

Once Upon a Bracelet

Pairing: Prince Jungkook x Sorceress Reader (Featuring Platonic Jin x Reader Friendship)

Genre: Fantasy • Soulmates • Enemies to Lovers • Fairytale

Word Count: 12.5K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. MINORS PROHIBITED. I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANY INTERACTIONS WITH PERSONS UNDER THE AGE OF 18. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Warnings: explicit sexual content • mentions of death • injury with a knife • passing mention of patricide • mentions of blood in relation to magic • literally none of this is graphic at all • I am just trying to be safe • loss of virginity • some hurt/comfort elements • social inequality and classism • pseudo-infidelity but not really •

Rating: Explicit (18+) 

Summary: You were born to nothing, but your powerful craft caught the eye of a charming prince. However, his distinctly un-charming younger brother challenged your betrothal and is routinely challenging you. Jeon Jungkook is (probably) a former necromancer and (definitely) the wrong prince…

But the bracelets tell a different story.

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah Special thanks to my lovely beta Hope @hobi-gif who keeps my work sharp and gives so generously of her time to help me. If I shine, its because you ladies are lighting up my life. And finally, shout-out to the lovely @wwilloww who read the very first version of this story year before we ever connected through BTS. I hope you like this new version--my brain clearly ran away with me...

Content Note: In this universe a necromancer is defined as a magic user with the ability to drain and/or manipulate the life force of living beings to fuel their own power. Using life force magic temporarily grants them advanced abilities—most of which are forbidden or illegal in the Kingdom of Dionysia where this story is set. Most mages with the ability to use this type of magic do not elect to do so. Magic users in this universe are typically proficient in three to four varieties of magic generally determined by their genetic make-up (meaning you are likely to inherit the same type of magical abilities as your parents or family members). 

꧁ Prologue ꧂

It is said that the world of mortals contained three sacred wells where ancient magic rose up within the waters like springs from the depths of the earth. 

One such well could be found in the Kingdom of Dionysia—a nation of great warriors and powerful crafters who served as its caretakers for generations.

The Dionysians called this place Sanguine Well and, as a reward for their devotion, the gods honored them with a remarkable gift...

Bonding Bracelets

—a set of unique magical artifacts used to join, identify, and empower soulmates. 

On the first day of their twentieth year, Dionysian youth traveled to Sanguine Well for the ritual creation of a bonding bracelet pair. 

When the appointed hour arrived, a young seeker ventured into the depths of the well and held their breath beneath its waters till the currents receded—leaving a bracelet pair behind. 

One bracelet formed fully clasped around their wrist. The other remained open and would only close for the seeker’s destined mate.

Naturally the people of Dionysia did not take the gift of bonded soulmates lightly...

All proposed matches were registered and approved by the Ruling Council before an open bracelet could even be tried on by a potential partner and both parties were required to present evidence of their commitment to one another. 

If the alliance was approved, the betrothed pair participated in a public ceremony where the first seeker’s intended would activate the bond by placing the open bracelet around their wrist.

When an unclaimed bracelet united with its true owner, the open ends stretched and intertwined to form a rune.

From that moment on, the seeker and their soulmate were blood bonded in a supernatural union of their hearts, powers, and abilities that was—to all known craft—unbreakable. 

Dionysia believed that this care and reverence honored the craft and the gods, thereby allowing the sacred tradition to continue.

In 900 years of recorded history, only five bonding ceremonies ended with a bracelet that did not close.

Now there were six…

꧁ Once Upon a Time ꧂

“Jin!”

Your voice echoed through the elegant corridors of Solemn Truth Palace as you chased after your betrothed. “I’m sorry! I—”

Jin whirled on you, shaking his head vehemently.

“None of this is your fault.”

“There are many reasons why this could’ve happened,” you offered breathlessly.

“There’s only one reason why this happens.”

He sighed and you rubbed your temples in frustration.

“I don’t understand… The Council gave permission.”

The Ruling Council was a sovereign governing body of three kings and three queens—one monarch from each of Dionysia’s six royal bloodlines.

“The Council isn’t all knowing…” Jin collapsed against a nearby wall. “This is a disaster,” he whispered.

And it was.

You had no family, but all of your friends and colleagues from the Academy were there.

Jin was technically an orphan as well, but his adopted family, the Jeons, were there.

Jeon Alaya was high queen of the Ruling Council, so half the kingdom was there to see the prince, her (adopted) son, bond with the craft prodigy from The Wastes.

Half the kingdom, but not her blood. Not her youngest son...

The two of you were silent for several moments as you struggled to process the shock.

“Do you think the rumors—what they say about me—is true?” 

Jin’s head shot up in an instant.

“No,” he swore, “they’re absolutely not true.”

Your heart warmed at his fierce defense, but after today’s debacle you were beginning to question yourself…

Whispers that ‘Wastelanders’ like yourself were citizens of no nation and loyal only to their own desires had plagued the majority of your academic and professional career.

You were forced to work twice as hard as any of your peers for each of your achievements, relying on nothing more than your natural talent and a stubborn determination to succeed in spite of the prejudice you faced. 

And you did succeed.

The gatekeepers of Dionysian society may have sneered at your background, but the powerful craft in your veins and the mastery with which you wielded it earned you undeniable respect and acclaim. 

Yet—even then—you were still an outsider. 

A strange girl with strange magic. 

Most Dionynisians practiced forms of elemental and illusion crafts. Your primary abilities, however, were every bit as foriegn and hard to define as you were.

Strictly speaking your magic fell under the umbrella of transfiguration arts (manipulating matter and energy to transform one thing into another), but you had been known to affect everything from the taste of tea to the weather—abilities far outside the norms of that designation. 

Nevertheless, transfiguration mages were rare and most of their lore was outdated—a situation which allowed you to establish yourself as a leading authority in the field almost by default. 

Between your fortuitous betrothal to Prince Seokjin and the widespread recognition of your achievements, you had hoped—after a lifetime of challenges—that the path ahead might be an easier one. 

But nothing ever came easily to you...

“Jin, it didn’t close—”

“It didn’t close because we aren’t soulmates—not because you aren’t one of us.” His expression softened. “We were a good idea… Just not the right one.”

Bitter tears welled up in the corners of your eyes.

On some level you were not surprised. You cared for Jin but–

Yours was not an overly romantic attachment.

It was a strong friendship—one that spanned several years. When you decided to apply to the Royal Council for bonding, it seemed…

Logical.

Friendship was an excellent criteria for identifying a potential mate and over the centuries many bonded pairs applied as friends.

You trusted in the wisdom of the Royal Council—everyone did.

If you and Jin were not meant for one another, surely the Council would see it. They would turn down the application—someone would object—

Well...

Someone did object.

But you were approved, nonetheless. 

The date was set. Announcements were made. Invitations were sent out. 

Then, at last, the ornate golden cuff was placed over your wrist and…

Nothing.

Nothing happened.

Jin’s bracelet remained stubbornly un-closed.

And you had never felt so mortified—so exposed—

So profoundly alone in your entire life.

It was a scandal of epic proportions, one which potentially called into question the judgement of the entire Ruling Council.

“Listen,” Jin spoke at last, “I need… I need to clear my head and think about the next steps. I know an expert on bonding bracelets. Perhaps I can convince her to help us figure out this mess.”

His hands settled over your shoulders in a familiar comforting gesture.

“Head to my house outside the city for a while. No one will bother you there, and I’ll be back tomorrow.” He gave your arms a brotherly squeeze. “We’ll work through this—I promise.”

Neither of you were keen to face the commotion unfolding in the grand ballroom of Solemn Truth Palace (where the failed ceremony took place), so Jin suggested a discreet escape through the secret entrance in his mother’s office. 

The two of you parted ways with a final hug before the prince set off for the Hall of Records—leaving you to trudge miserably toward his beautiful mansion by the lake. 

Technically, Golden Starlight Manor was just one of many homes owned by the Jeon family. This one, however, Jin shared with his younger brother…

Jungkook.

You kicked a stone irritably at the mere thought of his name. 

Prince Jeon Jungkook was rather a sore subject for you. 

In fact, over the course of your acquaintance, you expended considerable energy either avoiding him or engaging in dramatic shouting matches with him.

As such, Starlight (the family’s affectionate nickname for the sprawling ancestral holding) was normally the last place in Dionysia you wanted to be. 

But that was no longer the case. 

Jungkook had been gone for weeks. He left the very day your betrothal was announced…

“Why do you bother with those ridiculous gloves? Anyone who’s watched you cast knows what you’re hiding.”

You sighed heavily. 

“Good evening to you as well, Jungkook. Nice of you to finally show up.”

“Mother made some very explicit threats against my person when I told her I was busy so I assumed it was important—and, judging by your fancy gloves, I was correct.”

“Honestly I’m beginning to suspect you’ve never seen a pair before.”

“I’m just baffled by their purpose. It’s only a scar—your hands are not disfigured… So why cover it up?”

Only a scar…

You shook your head. 

Only a scar you earned in a back alley knife fight when you were a mere ten years old. With no proper medical care it had become infected and what should have been a simple wound became a permanent reminder of your ugly past. 

Tonight—of all nights—you would rather not be reminded...

“Is there a purpose to this discussion, Highness, or are you just interrogating me for fun?”

Jungkook scoffed at your cool reply. 

“That scratch on your hand isn’t even noticeable, you know.” He opened up his own palm to reveal a thick band of gnarled tissue slashing diagonally across the center. “Mine is significantly more impressive.

Something that might have been a smile tugged insistently at the corner of your lips but you covered it quickly with a blistering scowl. 

“Comparing scars—really? Can’t you be civilized for one blasted evening?”

“Why would I do that? Think of how bored you’d be.”

You groaned and threw back the rest of your drink with a frustrated gulp. 

“Believe it or not we common folk long for a bit of peaceful boredom now and then.”

The prince snorted and clasped his hand dramatically over his heart. 

“So righteous.”

“Someone ought to be.”

“Enough you two,” Jeon Alaya called from across the family’s spacious day room. “I just replaced those curtains and I don’t want them exploding into a herd of butterflies—or some other such nonsense.”

In any other context, that would have been a profoundly strange comment.

However…

Disagreements between yourself and Jeon Jungkook had become downright legendary over the last several months. 

A heated argument in Night Meadow Park caused several trees to burst into bright multicolored flames and start shooting all their fruit at peaceful park-goers like tiny delicious cannonballs. 

A dispute over the best ingredients to use in vegetable casserole ended with an entire bowl of green beans growing legs and chasing the family dog out onto the lawn. 

The two of you got into a row at the Centennial Peace Celebration and sent all of the lightning swans (specially flown in for the occasion) into a static-electric mating frenzy that plastered everyone’s clothes to their bodies obscenely—including the ninety-five year-old high priest. (The chief matron from the Knitting Guild was so scandalized that she fainted into a bowl of punch.)

And just last week Jungkook’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge your point in an ongoing debate about teleportation made you so mad that your hair literally turned red for an entire day. 

As such, you both had the decency to look abashed under the high queen’s wary gaze. 

“I don’t know, Mother,” Jin chuckled before offering the assembled guests a dazzling grin. “Perhaps you should have let them go. Butterflies are good luck after all.”

You sighed happily—impressed yet again by your partner’s elegant diplomacy. 

The two princes of House Jeon could not have been less alike. 

They shared a deep affection for one another and for their parents, but that was where the similarities began and ended. 

Seokjin was a playful charmer with a silver tongue and a delightfully mischievous demeanor. 

He was remarkably similar in both looks and temperament to Alaya and her husband Roomin—so much so that people often assumed Jungkook was the adopted sibling.

The elder prince was also a natural politician. He enjoyed appearing in charitable competitions for cooking and fishing where his flirtatious habit of blowing kisses into the crowd would unlace corsets and purses strings left and right. 

Not that he had ever been unfaithful—Kim Seokjin was every bit as kind and loyal as he was beautiful. 

And he was very beautiful. 

Jungkook on the other hand…

Beautiful was altogether the wrong word. 

The sharp sensual planes of his face seemed shaped for something darker and wilder than beauty.

Jin was clever and outgoing, but Jungkook was brilliant and quietly intense. His abilities and impressive spell lore were both highly sought after, but he was difficult to draw out and generally preferred to practice his science and experimental craft far away from the public eye. 

Most people agreed that he was an enigma—and a wickedly handsome one at that. His fiery brown eyes and impressive muscular physique were only enhanced by the apathetic confidence of his demeanor. 

However... 

The younger prince’s most arresting feature was unquestionably his hair.  

Once, it had been brown—like the rest of the Jeon family…

But he returned from ‘the incident’ several years ago with a distinct new color—one no dye or spell could replicate. 

Ashen Gold.

The mark of a deadly necromancer. 

A constant visual reminder that he had taken a life.

And yet even that could not detract from his seductive allure—if anything it made him appear more poetically ethereal.

Like an Angel of Death.

Women all over the kingdom were obsessed with the mysterious Jeon prince—

Not you of course.

That raw, unruly magnetism might cause some hearts to flutter—but certainly not yours. 

After all...

Jeon Jungkook was still a true-born prince.

And you—even with all of your accomplishments—would always be a street waif from The Wastes with a little too much magic in her blood. 

You had no business noticing the soft curve of his lips or the strong line of his jaw or—

… anything below that. 

As such you shot the man in question one final dirty look before turning your attention back to Jin. 

The elder prince finished thanking the assembled guests for accepting his invitation and finally arrived at the true purpose for the evening.

“Honored loved ones… I am pleased to announce that a bond between this incredibly beautiful woman and my unworthy self has been unanimously approved by the Royal Council! We are betrothed!”

A predictable burst of applause and excited murmuring erupted as you stepped forward, prepared to graciously take your place at Jin’s side and accept congratulations when—

Strong fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist—holding you back decisively. 

Shocked silence fell over the room as you turned to face Jeon Jungkook (resolutely ignoring the fact that his unyielding grip was sending the strangest sparks of heat all through your body).

“No,” he growled with startling finality. “You cannot be with him.”

… Perhaps that humiliating spectacle at your betrothal party should have been the first indication that today’s ceremony was bound to end in misery. 

Jeon Jungkook was a menace, but he adored his brother and his impassioned objections to the match were wildly uncharacteristic.

Still…

Considering the turbulent nature of your relationship, you were rather relieved that he had not been there this morning to witness his own belated triumph. 

It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. 

The repercussions of today’s disastrous ceremony loomed overhead like the Sword of Damocles. There would be no escaping the fallout.  

It was well past the eighth hour when you finally reached the manor and the staff were already gone for the night… 

There was no one to greet you or ask any well-intentioned questions about your sudden appearance.

Thank the gods for small favors.

Normally you took a moment to appreciate Starlight’s elegantly carved entryway and vibrant woodland wallpaper (a stunning and expensive feature which made the entire house feel like an enchanted forest)—but the reality of the day was already beginning to take a physical toll. 

You were entirely too drained to attempt the stairs, bypassing them in favor of the main drawing room where you intended to simply collapse fully-clothed on a chaise when—

“Shouldn’t you be off playing princess literally anywhere else?”

Of course. 

A mirthless laugh bubbled up before you could stop it.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Just what I needed right now.

The prince crossed his arms and offered you a condescending tilt of his head.

Years of social training had you dipping slightly into an informal bow—hoping it would hide the way your body always seemed to go haywire in his presence. 

Jungkook’s tall muscular frame leaned indolently against the fireplace, dressed head to toe in his signature black garb. Two silver earrings—priceless heirlooms of the Jeon bloodline—dangled rakishly from his ears beneath riotous waves of golden hair. 

He looked more like a renegade pirate than a high born prince.

And his effect on you was maddening. 

“What are you doing here?”

Jungkook raised a single imperious brow in response. 

“It is my house, Sandflower.”

You bristled at the familiar nickname. 

Sandflowers were native to the desolate region you grew up in. 

It was an easy way to remind you of your place into the world. 

And his. 

A prince of Dionysia forced to interact with a foundling from The Wastes simply because you happened to catch his brother’s eye.

How that must grate his delicate sensibilities.

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. 

“I heard you ran off to pout over Jin’s terrible taste in women on one of those South Sea pleasure cruises.” Condescension dripped from your tone like poisoned honey. “What happened? Couldn’t find any lost souls willing to partner you for naked badminton?”

He grinned devilishly. 

“Quite the opposite in fact. There were far too many volunteers.”

You rolled your eyes, firmly pushing aside the unwelcome heat his words evoked. 

“Please spare me the details. I recently ate.”

“Yes, how was that overblown betrothal banquet?… Boring?… Pretentious?” He sighed theatrically. “Such a shame I missed those speeches—especially King Tiemore. His habit of loudly sucking snot up into his skull really adds a special something.”

You just barely managed to bite back a snort—

King Tiemore’s speech was rather excruciating—and for that very reason. 

“The dinner was lovely—naturally. Of course the younger prince’s absence was keenly felt by all—though I confess some of us enjoyed it more than others.”

“I knew there had to be something about me you enjoyed.”

“Indeed. Your absence is by far your most attractive quality. I find myself powerfully drawn to it.”

Jungkook laughed and offered you a wry grin. 

“You know—you play so coy, but I’m sure you missed me a little.” He leaned forward ever-so-slightly. “Or were you truly content with all that ‘peaceful boredom’ I left behind?” 

No. I wasn’t. 

“Yes, of course I was,” you snapped.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’re free to believe whatever you like.”

A sudden scuffle erupted from the corner as Pippin (the family dog) scrambled nervously out into the kitchen. Ever since the green bean incident he refused to be in the same room with the two of you together. 

Jungkook sighed and ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

“What are you even doing here, Sandflower?”

A sharp burst of anxiety spiked in your stomach. You were in no way prepared to reveal the extent of your humiliation to him just yet. 

“I could ask you the same question.”

His eyes narrowed curiously. 

“A man hardly needs to explain why he’s present in his own home. The same, however, cannot be said for you. Now why are you here when you’re supposed to be hanging off my brother's arm like a good little bride-to-be.” 

“Perhaps I’ve come to plan,” you answered coolly. “Golden Starlight House would make a lovely venue for the wedding, don’t you think?” 

You gestured toward a worn leather chair near the fireplace (one you knew to be his favorite). “We just need to clear out all the trash and it will be absolutely perfect.”

“Over my dead body.”

You shrugged. 

“If you insist—though I’m afraid your hideous corpse will clash with the decor.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about all that, Sandflower. I wouldn’t be caught celebrating that union dead or alive.”

“Well now that is fortunate,” you sighed in a sickeningly sweet tone, “—as I would rather not share the joy of my wedding ceremony with the man who publicly objected to it.”

Jungkook pushed off his perch against the mantle, rising to full intimidating height.

“I had good reason.” 

The words were quietly spoken, but his eyes burned with conviction—just as they had the last time you saw him. 

“What reason could you possibly have for obstructing your brother’s happiness?” 

The prince took a full step closer and you tried very hard not to be unnerved by the reduced space between you. 

“Jin is not right for you, little Sandflower—”

“You do not have permission to address me informally!” 

Your voice cracked through the air like a whip as you sought to reestablish a safe distance (whether real or metaphorical) between the two of you. “I may have been born a nothing from The Wastes, but I am a ranked crafter and the betrothed of a royal. You will refer to me accordingly.”

Jungkook could feel his normally frigid heart pounding madly as he stared down his brother’s woman with unrepentant heat. 

His eyes drank you in as you stood before him—teeming with barely controlled fire.

Gods but you were magnificent.

He still remembered the day Jin brought you home to the family estate.

You seemed so serene, so proper… an ideal contrast to his charmingly brash elder sibling. 

Within minutes, Jungkook dismissed you as vapid and uninteresting. 

The girl at his brother’s side spoke very little, smiled very tightly, and sat very straight. 

You would make a lovely decorative addition to Jin’s political career—one that would never distract from his efforts or clash with his carefully maintained persona. 

But oh…

He’d been so very wrong.

Some months later Jungkook was called out to the Academy on unavoidable business. After several hours of work the prince was eager to leave the crowded campus and return home—until he heard something that stopped him in his tracks. 

It was you. 

Several classes were gathered to watch you debate a renowned authority in the field of experimental alchemy. The man’s theories had been the gold standard (literally) for decades, yet you challenged his findings with methodical precision—letting your infectious zeal color every word as you reduced his pretentious ramblings to ash. 

That was the first time he saw you—the real you—not the shallow little angel his brother brought home—but a woman brimming with vibrant energy and irresistible passion. 

He had no idea how you managed to suppress the force of your true nature, but he suspected that the pleasantly tepid persona you adopted with his family was meant to compensate for your ignominious origins. 

He was certain, however, of one thing:

You and Jin were a terrible match. 

His brother would never make you happy and he could not bear to see Jin’s spirit broken by the anguish of an ill-fated entanglement.

Naturally, this newfound conviction had nothing to do with the way his own blood stirred at the sight of you rising up in glorious fury. 

Nothing at all. 

From that moment on, everything changed. 

Jungkook went from passively ignoring your presence to deliberately baiting you at every turn. Time and time again he pushed and prodded until that mesmerizing fire blazed in your eyes and you were alive with riotous animosity instead of cold and distant.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” he tilted his head thoughtfully, “or is it Princess now?”

You snorted and shook your head. 

“You know I will never be a princess.”

“Oh? So you’ve finally given up this ridiculous alliance with my brother?”

“Your brother is a royal, but not a true born prince. His title is just a courtesy—one his mate and descendants cannot share.”

“Disappointed?” 

“In you? Frequently.”

“Fair enough—but Jin is a far better person than either of us and he does not deserve to have his heart broken.”

Your mouth dropped open in outrage. 

“I resent your entire implication. I know you do not think very highly of me but—”

“You have no idea what I think of you, Mistress,” he interrupted fiercely.

Anger flared in your gaze as you stepped defiantly into his space, fueled by the familiar wave of restless energy you encountered every time the two of you clashed.

“I am a powerful crafter in my own right, I don’t need a wealthy mate to survive. I have done exceptionally well for myself—by myself.”

“Then why are you with him?”

You drew back incredulously.

“Is it so hard to believe that I do not want to be alone anymore? Is it wrong to look at my gorgeous best friend and consider that perhaps we could create the one thing I cannot earn or buy or craft—not with all the gold and power in the world?”

“Love?” Jungkook sneered.

“Family,” you shot back. “Something you take for granted. Something you don’t even want. You’re not even looking for a bond mate!”

Jungkook met your cutting accusations with an icy glare. He knew you were baiting him, yet for some masochistic reason he refused to stop you. 

Lines were about to be crossed, but—as usual—the prince had torn away your genteel civility and unleashed that penniless spitfire who clawed her way up from the rotting streets and into the hallowed halls of Dionysia’s Academy. 

“Ah, yes. I forgot,” you drawled, not bothering to conceal the venom in your words. “The great Jeon Jungkook lives a life of self-imposed solitude—as the walking eulogy of a traitor.”

“How dare you!” he snarled.

You crossed your arms defiantly. 

“How dare I what? Call her a traitor? She was a necromancer! A dark crafter using evil—and highly illegal—magic!” 

“I suppose we cannot all be walking, talking saints like the Mistress of the Wastes!”

“Well, her immaculate bloodline certainly wasn’t a guarantee of any notable virtue! Really what is the point of nobility if so few of you are actually noble?”

The two of you pressed progressively closer with each traded barb and now stood nearly nose to nose seething in reciprocal fury. Every atom in your body was engaged and—for the first time since he stormed away all those months ago—you felt gloriously alive. 

At heart you would always be a fighter and there was no better opponent than Jeon Jungkook. 

“Careful little Mistress, you’re starting to sound awfully judgemental. Ridicule me and my advantages all you want, but birthright is not the shield from suffering you believe it to be. I endured a loss you cannot possibly comprehend.”

“A loss?... That woman was a disgrace. And yet you still have the audacity to mourn her?”

Jungkook scoffed. 

“Gods, why am I even bothering? It is impossible for you to understand such things… You only know how to gain—how to advance. Loss is not something you’re accustomed to—a fringe benefit of being born with nothing I suppose.”

“Spoken like a privileged prince!”

His eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“Do I look like a privileged prince to you?”

You knew what he was getting at and with anyone else it might have been an effective shut down, but you were a master debater—able to quickly reclaim his point for your own cutting riposte. 

“Of course you do! Do you think anyone else could turn up with a necromancer’s mark and just waltz back into the fold without consequence? What have you lost? Certainly not your position—and certainly not her because everyone knows that your relationship was nothing more than an accursed spell!”

Jungkook’s jaw worked in silence as he fought to control his emotions. 

For a moment he looked almost… 

Vulnerable.

And you could not help the wave of sympathy that suddenly rose up for him—for the young prince of so many years ago who placed his trust—and his heart—in the wrong hands. 

Your tone was noticeably softer when you spoke again. 

“At first I thought it was just a ridiculous rumor spread by the Royal Council to justify your pardon... but when the Academy called me in to help permanently dispose of her spell books last winter I saw…” You bit your lip. “It really was possible.”

A soft, empty laugh left Jungkook’s lips as he shook his head. 

Of course it was possible. 

But the truth—that he was a fool too blinded by love to recognize the evil he allowed to flourish—was so much worse. 

Elaena was heart-stoppingly beautiful—the kind of lovely that could haunt a man’s thoughts and ruin his mind. 

She was a vision.

When she sought him out, it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. 

She dazzled him, flattered him—left him breathless and enchanted—taunted and teased him till he adored her with obsessive intensity.

In time he eagerly offered her both his heart and his body—

But Elaena was after his soul...

Jungkook’s grandfather, Jeon Olin, was the most powerful necromancer in a thousand years. 

The gift (or curse) of necromancy was genetic. Only a few bloodlines could use it. 

When his beloved wife died giving birth to twins, Olin turned to dark craft in a desperate attempt to get her back.

The cost of necromancy, however, was impossibly steep.

It drained life force. Exposed the wielder to dangerous dark energies—

And slowly drove them insane.

In the end, Jeon Olin was put down by his own children.

Elaena wanted Jungkook’s power desperately. Her own necromancy was weak, but a blood bond with the grandson of Jeon Olin could make her invincible. 

The young prince, however, remained stubbornly blind to her true motives, even as she convinced him to explore the dark edges of the magic in his blood.

After a series of passionate arguments with his concerned family, Jungkook declared his intent to marry Elaena in defiance of their express wishes.

In response, his uncle, Jeon Anjin, did something unforgivable. He removed Jungkook’s bonding bracelet from the Jeon vault and disappeared with it.

The theft and its dramatic aftermath tore the royal family apart.

Jungkook was convinced that his mother and father conspired with Anjin to keep him from bonding with Elaena. Roomin and Alaya swore they had not, but openly admitted that they were grateful for Anjin’s actions. 

Neither Alaya nor her brother could forget the trauma of killing their own father and both were determined to protect future generations from the poison in their family tree. 

Necromancy was a curse and, though they had no proof, the twins could sense its hold on Elaena. 

When Jungkook told his beloved what Anjin had done, she flew into a violent fury—and for the first time he experienced a sliver of doubt in his previously unshakable resolve. 

But it was not enough to free him. 

Consumed by his bitterness and resent, the young prince cut himself off from his heritage—from his people—

And disappeared entirely.

After a few tearful pleas, Elaena persuaded him to cloak their life force using forbidden blood spells, effectively concealing them from even the most powerful seeker mages. 

Daily cuts across his palm to maintain the cloaking spell left him with a thick gnarled scar—one that had not faded even after years of treatments. 

For months no one knew the prince’s whereabouts… or even if he was still alive. 

Elaena believed that if they held out long enough the royal families would relent and welcome them back with open arms. Her obsession with finding Anjin and his stolen treasure put an incredible strain on their relationship...

“You have… no idea what you’re talking about,” Jungkook whispered angrily. 

“Of course I do,” you scoffed. “I’ve worked with mind and heart spells for years. Once the magic is broken or the caster dies—the feelings cease to exist!”

Fury sparked chaotically in the prince’s gaze as he shook his head in frustration. 

“You’re so sure of yourself—of everything—and you never stop to consider that you might be wrong.”

Your fingers pressed into your temples as you tried to ease the headache he was giving you. 

“What could I possibly be wrong about? The entire kingdom knows the story! You were bewitched until Elaena cast a dark spell that rebounded and killed her—”

“That,” he hissed, “is the story—but it is not the truth.”

His hand shot out to grasp the back of your neck and with a sudden flash of heat you found yourself yanked roughly into his memories...

The door to Elaena’s makeshift workshop slammed open with a deafening crack. 

“Ju-Jungkook—what are you doing here, my love? I thought you were out hunting for our dinner.”

Something was wrong. She could see it in his eyes. For months they were filled with open adoration... 

Now they burned with hurt and mistrust. 

“I was looking for the knife,” he whispered quietly, “I remembered seeing you with it last night...”

Elaena paled. 

He’d gone through her chest. But that didn’t have to mean anything—he could have missed—

“I found this.” 

Jungkook slammed an old leather scroll down on the table between them, confirming his lover’s worst fears. 

“That… that isn’t what it seems—I promise I—”

“Enough!” Jungkook shouted—his voice was already beginning to shake. “These are experimental incantations to force an unfated bracelet bond… Tell me—why would you need such a thing?”

His pain and anguish grew every moment she remained silent. 

“Elaena... if you believe that we are soulmates—why would you need to force the bond?”

Elaena rushed toward him, sliding her hands up to cradle his face imploringly. 

“It isn’t like that, my love. This is just research. Of course I believe—”

A soft whimpering sound suddenly cut her off and Jungkook drew back in alarm. 

“What is that?”

He pushed past her, making his way toward the source of the noise—a small moving object covered by cloth in the middle of the room. 

“It’s nothing! Wait!”

Elaena tugged frantically at his shirt but he shook her off and pulled back the cloth to reveal—

“Elaena—gods what have you done?”

It was a little girl—one he recognized from the village they were hiding in. She was bound and laid out over strange dark casting symbols he did not recognize. 

“I discovered a spell, Jungkook. It’s an ancient necromancer incantation. With it you can find anything—anyone.”

A hard hollow feeling gripped his chest tightly. 

“... Why is the girl here?”

“Don’t you see? Now we can finally take your bracelet back from Anjin! You and I—we can truly be together—”

“THE GIRL, Elaena! What are you doing to the girl!?”

His hands came up to grip her arms, but she pushed him away in disgust and extended her palm toward the child. 

“I told you—she’s nothing. Just a bit of collateral damage.”

Elaena’s eyes darkened to an inky black and the little girl began to cry, struggling as the primal essence her life force was cruelly ripped away. 

“Elaena stop! Let her go! You can’t do this!”

“OF COURSE I CAN!” she snarled. “I’ve done it before.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. 

“But-but your hair—”

“I’ve been brewing a potion to cover it for years! How could I be satisfied with the meager energy of animals when a single human life can make me more powerful than the high queen!”

The girl screamed again and Jungkook ran to her side, yanking and pulling at the ropes around her small wrists in horrified desperation. 

“It’s too late!” Elaena shouted. “The ritual has already begun. You cannot save her now!”

The prince cradled the shaking child in his arms and sobbed out in anguish. 

He knew in his heart what had to be done—

… And that he must be the one to do it. 

“I can save her...” he whispered. “It is you who cannot be saved.”

A single tear drifted down the side of his cheek as he stretched out his palm toward the woman he loved. 

“I’m sorry...”

You gasped as the memory began to darken—holding your breath as the last few moments played through your mind—

—watching as the prince’s beautiful brown curls lightened to an unmistakable gold...

—watching him run to the lifeless Elaena and pull her against his chest in despair.  

“Oh my gods…” you whispered. “It wasn’t a spell. You—”

“I loved her.”

The words fell heavy on your heart like molten lead. 

It hurt to hear them—and you could not bear to think about why. 

Heavens above I’ve been a fool. 

Jeon Jungkook was far more complicated than you realized. 

Though… perhaps a part of you had always known that. 

“Your hair was dark in the vision until…” You swallowed convulsively. “Was… was that—”

The prince’s eyes were strangely hollow. 

“I’ve only ever taken one life.” His gaze held yours with quiet intensity. “Hers.”

The word lingered like poison in the scant space between you—even as emotions too strong and too numerous to identify churned chaotically through your senses. 

This man was such a fascinating force in your life—a question you kept trying to answer over and over again without success. 

After a moment Jungkook slowly turned his back to you, resting his weight against the mantle with a weary sigh. 

For the first time you realized just how close the two of you had come to one another. 

“I’m sorry…” you whispered.

“I can’t imagine why you’re apologizing. You’ve made it quite clear what you think of me.”

“I don’t know what to think of you at all… Why won’t you let them tell the truth?”

Indignation and self-loathing warred over his features as he swung around abruptly. 

“Because the truth is—that I would rather they all believe I was a spoiled, bewitched pawn and not a monster who used his own grotesque abilities to kill the woman he loved!”

“No!” You shook your head fiercely, “You saved that little girl!”

“And I lost myself!”

You gasped at the violent bitterness behind his words. 

The raw pain in his voice—in his expression—was heart wrenching; such a departure from the normally arrogant and apathetic prince. 

“Jungkook,” you breathed sympathetically, but he kept going—almost as if he hadn’t heard you. 

“My honor, my dignity, my self-respect —perhaps even my chance to forge a bond… All of it died with Elaena.” 

“That’s not true! You chose to do the right thing—to protect an innocent life—even if it meant sacrificing someone you loved! That is a truly noble act.”

“Noble?... Are you blind, Mistress? Everyone, including you, regards me with fear and distrust. All anyone sees when they look at me is a monster.” 

“Stop saying that. You’re not a monster—”

“Oh?” He leaned in again, crowding your space, “Then what am I?”

Your breath caught. Your eyes widened in response to his proximity—

—and Jeon Jungkook forcibly bit back a groan. 

Gods but you were so unpardonably beautiful up close it was almost painful. 

He couldn’t say what compelled him to reveal the truth of his past to you or why all of his carefully maintained defenses routinely seemed to fade away in your presence. He spent so much time pushing others back and yet—by instinct rather than by choice—he was always trying to bring you closer. 

Even now—as uncomfortable as it was to have the darkest parts of his soul laid bare before you… 

He could not bring himself to regret it. 

“To that little girl… you’re a hero,” you whispered softly.  

Surprise flickered briefly acros his gaze. It was clear he had not expected such an admission from you. His eyes seemed to search your face for signs of mockery and for a moment you were thoroughly ashamed of yourself. 

“Then what am I to you?” he asked finally. 

You paled. 

“...W-what?”

There was nothing but a whisper of space separating you now. You could practically feel his breath against your skin when he spoke.

“If I am not a monster… then I must be something else.” His eyes locked with yours significantly. “So what am I to you?”

Oh gods, help. 

It should have been such a simple question. 

But it wasn’t. 

And it became increasingly more complicated with every moment that passed between you. Something dark and inviting stirred restlessly beneath the surface each and every time your paths crossed...

You could feel it. 

But you could not afford to acknowledge it—and he could never seem to let it go. 

“Elaena was the monster,” you insisted firmly, twisting your response away from dangerous territory, “—and you cannot continue to let her control your life like this.”

Jungkook drew back with a frustrated growl. 

“She is not controlling my life! You think I’m mourning her? The person I loved was a lie. She never even existed!”

“Exactly! You were the victim every step of the way… So why are you punishing yourself?”

His eyes hardened. 

“You’re taking shots in the dark now, Mistress,” he warned.

“Am I? You’ve locked yourself away in that dungeon you call a lab for the past four years. Barely twenty five winters, but you walk like a beaten man. Elaena may not have bewitched you, but she still has her hands wrapped around your throat.” 

Jungkook snapped forward with a strangled roar and seized both your arms—yanking you close to him once more. Sharp, spiraling heat shot through your veins as you met his livid black gaze.

“You have no right to speak to me that way. You have never been in love. You don’t know what it is to lose it!”

“I love your brother—”

“You do not know my brother! And he does not know you.”

“Of course he knows me!”

“Does he, Sandflower?” Jungkook addressed you intimately once again—not caring that he was forbidden to do so. “Does he know how you light up the moment you win an argument? Or see the smile you save for finding that solution no one else could? Does he even realize that you hide an insatiable passion behind that chilling calm? Answer me, woman!”

But you could not.

Jeon Jungkook had seen you.

He had seen you.

—and the truth he threw in your face cut deeply.

For years you searched for a partner who would suit you. Someone who needed you. Someone safe and comfortable... 

Someone like Jin who was kind and charming and often benefited from your perspectives.

… And yet—

 Something was missing.

You didn’t want Jin as a woman should want her mate… and you always suspected—on some level—that he did not want you (in that way) either.

Perhaps it will come with time. Perhaps I’m just nervous—you reassured yourself over and over again.

But here and now—after everything that had happened—the truth was unavoidable.

You did not feel with Jin.

Not like when you argued your theories at the academic tribunals. Not like when you traveled to every corner of the kingdom just to satisfy your curiosity. Not like—

Your breath caught.

Not like with Jungkook.

All at once the truth crashed over you like flood waves from a broken dam. 

It wasn’t anger, or resent, or even frustration that flared chaotically through your system every time he got too close—

It was desire.

When the prince saw his accusations confirmed in your troubled gaze, he lashed out and seized your wrist.

“How can you even wear his brace-”

He stopped cold. 

It wasn’t there.

“Where is the bracelet?” 

His entire being seemed to suspend within a single question.

“It didn’t close,” you said breathlessly.

Then your eyes changed. From guarded to almost… hopeful.

Inviting.

Just for an instant.

But it was enough. 

Every urge—every impulse—every desperate longing he caged out of self-preservation suddenly broke free with a vengeance.

Jungkook dragged you completely into his arms, bringing your face mere breaths from his.

“You can never belong to him,” he growled as his lips came crashing down on yours.

Oh sweet merciful heavens.

You had allowed Jin to kiss you before. He was your betrothed after all and the few tender kisses you shared with him were quite sweet, very pleasant, utterly polite—

And nothing—absolutely nothing—like this.

Dark, wicked heat poured through your body in relentless waves as his mouth moved against yours, giving and taking with unmistakable hunger. 

He tasted like summer and wonder and every wish you ever whispered into the wind under the stars. 

Jeon Jungkook was definitely the wrong brother and you were an upstart from the wrong class—but oh...

This was so indescribably right. 

Your breath caught as the prince bore you back into the wall, desperate for any part of you he could touch— and you opened to him willingly—eagerly—as if you had done so a thousand times. 

As if you belonged to him...

You shouldn’t want this. You knew better—but instead of pushing him away you pressed forward shamelessly, tangling your fingers into his hair as you melted against him. 

The contrast of his muscular frame intertwining with your supple curves was unspeakably erotic. Everything about this man was unspeakably erotic and your body responded to his with hedonistic fervor. 

One of his hands slammed against the ornate surface behind you and suddenly the beautifully rendered woodlands frozen within that absurdly expensive wallpaper hummed with magic—coming to life beneath his fingertips even as he poured his passion into you. 

Trees began to bloom. Animals began to move. The sky shifted in between previously inanimate branches. Spring broke forth from the four walls around you—

But neither of you noticed. 

For you and he there was nothing beyond the explosive longing that had waited too long and too bitterly for release. 

"Gods woman, you drive me crazy,” he rasped, drawing back momentarily for a breath before plundering your lips again. The rough timbre of his voice—so obviously dazed with desire—shot a fresh wave of arousal down your spine. 

There would be a reckoning for this moment, of that you were certain—

… yet it no longer mattered. 

The pain and humiliation of the last several hours lifted off your shoulders in favor of an incredible lightness. Everything in your world narrowed down to the feel of your heartbeat next to his. 

You had slept on the streets of the Wastes, claimed unprecedented academic prestige, ascended to the gilded halls of the Grand Palace—but nothing had ever felt like him. 

And nothing had ever felt like home—

Until him. 

Jungkook—for his part—did not intend to kiss you, or hold you, or hoist you up against the wall as he was currently doing, but when his hand closed over your bare wrist an unholy triumph had blazed to life in the depths of his defeated soul. 

Elation the likes of which he’d never known suddenly flooded his senses. 

Jin may have found you first, but he would be the one to claim you. 

You were his. 

He knew it from the moment he watched you dismantle that overblown alchemist like a warrior queen. 

The day the council approved your betrothal he felt as if his world was ripped in half. 

It was unthinkable. 

How could you belong to his brother when it was his soul that burned for you?

Watching you stand next to Jin, smiling and accepting congratulations with that pleasantly vacant smile on your face, had been the last straw. 

That night he ran as far away as he could, hoping to escape you… but it was never far enough. 

You haunted him relentlessly.  And he soon discovered that there was no point in putting distance between you—

Not when you were already in his heart.  

In the end he returned to Dionysia determined to face his fate—only to find that he had been right all along. 

“I’ve always loved Sandflowers. Did you know that?”

You gasped as he began to press hot open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. 

“I-I didn’t know.” 

You didn’t know your own name at this point, so that wasn’t saying much. 

“It’s true,” he hummed, sucking a trail of pretty pink marks into the soft skin along your collarbone. You whined breathlessly at his boldness, losing yourself in each new sensation until he spoke again. 

“Sandflowers flourish and grow where nothing else can. They’re incredibly strong,” he pressed forward, melding the hard lines of his body into yours till his center ground against your throbbing core, “yet still so beautiful and soft.”

Nimble fingers pulled at the laced sides of your elegant betrothal dress—loosening the ties till he could slip through and brush over your bare skin. 

“They cannot be kept in vases on desks or in little glass houses… Nothing so fragile could ever contain them.”

You moaned needily and his breath caught as the sound of it curled through him like an echo from his wildest dreams. 

“I thought—”

“I know what you thought,” he whispered, fisting his hand in your hair to gain better access to the delectable curve of your neck. “And I let you think it because it was easier if you hated me.” 

Your eyes flew open as he reached lower, sliding his hands under your dress to fully reveal the smooth legs wrapped around his body. One firmly muscled thigh suddenly pressed directly into the warmth of your swollen cunt—

And then he began to move. 

“Jungkook—oh my gods!” 

Pleasure—urgent and messy—rippled out from your center in all directions, overtaking you in a way that felt utterly primal and uncivilized. Your body trembled as he rutted against yours folds, opening even further to accommodate that glorious new friction. 

The sounds he drew out of you were incoherent—unhinged even. Mindlessly, you moved to cover your lips but his hand suddenly closed over your wrist and pinned it to the wall. 

“You sound so sweet,” he murmured in between thrusts, “so perfect.”

Your gown was slowly coming apart, slipping further and further down till it barely clung to the swells of your breast.

The need building between your legs was fast becoming unbearable. You were racing toward some sort of breaking point when you felt his hands latch around your hips and lift you onto a nearby decorative table—shattering the lamp and what was certainly a priceless antique vase as he swept them aside to make room. 

The sound of glass breaking against the tile barely registered through the haze of desire pulsing between you—and neither of you noticed when the larger shards sprouted shimmering gossamer wings and began to flutter whimsically around the light fixtures. 

Instead you were mewling pitifully at the unacceptable emptiness between your thighs and pulling at him in an attempt to soothe your frustration. 

“Shhh,” he chuckled, “I’ve got you.”

His mouth played lazily over your skin as he leaned you back, lowering himself till his lips hovered over the greedy tips of your breasts.

Some distant part of your mind knew that this was beyond scandalous. 

The once beautiful betrothal garment pooled at your waist, leaving your top and bottom bare to the hungry gaze of a man who was definitely not your betrothed. 

Then his tongue darted out to give one tightened peak the slightest flick and you hissed as sensation twisted through you. 

“These are exquisite,” he mused naughtily and you whined in response—arching toward him without conscious thought as his words wound around you like the strangest spell—warming you from the inside out with their simple forthright magic. 

Finally he leaned forward and drew one tormented nub into his mouth with obvious obscene pleasure and—heavens above—it felt so good you almost blacked out. 

“Oh my—please yes,” you keened as he sucked noisily. 

Wetness flooded between your thighs as that desperate need for release continued to build recklessly. Your fingers curled into his hair as he serviced you, switching between the twin swells of your breast with greedy satisfaction till the stimulation was nearly overwhelming. 

“Gods what a dream you are” he growled, worrying your swollen nub gently between his teeth, “so bare and needy.” 

He moved forward to kiss you again and you gasped as his hand slid down to stroke the wet linen of your undergarments. 

“Does it feel like this when he touches you?” he whispered against your lips, letting his fingers trace your sodden slit with deliberate intent. 

You could only whimper in response as he continued, drawing the fabric aside to caress your bare folds. 

“Do you make these noises for him?”

You shook your head frantically. “No, Jin never—ah!”

Jungkook growled at the sound of his brother’s name on your lips and slid his fingers forward, breaching the tight heat of your virgin cunt for the first time.

The pain and pleasure were so sharp and deliciously potent that you threw your head back and cried out loud. 

“Of course not,” he snarled, “because he doesn’t want you like I do. He isn’t driven near to madness at the thought of you in another man’s arms.”

Your hips swayed forward desperately at the sudden foreign fullness—searching instinctively for more. Jungkook wasted no time locating that sweet secret spot inside of you, pressing and coaxing it with such reverent persistence it was almost spiritual. 

“That’s it, pretty one,” he murmured heatedly. “Take what you need.”

Wanton cries poured out as you rutted against his hand, rubbing your swollen clit lewdly over his knuckles while he moaned filthy praises against your skin. 

“Let me have you, Sandflower,” he whispered, curling his fingers into your soaked cunt till the arousal slid messily over his hand. “Let me show you what it’s like to be adored.”

“Yes!” you sobbed as a sharp peak of pleasure finally overtook you. 

Jungkook growled in triumph as he pressed his lips to yours again—savoring the sounds of your pleasure while he worked you gently through your first release. 

How could there be such a feeling in this world? 

And why was he the only one who had ever let you feel it—this indescribable thrill that transcended mere physical pleasure to approach something almost like…

Freedom. 

You had barely a moment to recover from your high before Jungkook was hauling you off the table and fully into his arms. 

Vaguely you acknowledged that he was taking you to his room (and what was probably going to happen there) but you were too preoccupied with tearing him out of his shirt to worry about the consequences now.

Your bridges were burning and you fully intended to dance in the flames. 

Every room you stumbled past on the way to his chambers was steadily overtaken with the same strange magic that had bloomed through the drawing room. 

Fires spontaneously flared in dormant fireplaces, figurines twitched to life, newly sentient ancestral portraits looked down in scandalized confusion at the oblivious (and enthusiastic) couple staggering through their halls...

And Pippin went tearing out to hide in his miniature outdoor doggie castle after seeing a fox chase a colony of rabbits through the wallpaper in the dining room. 

Your clothes were fully discarded by the time you finally crashed over the threshold of the prince’s quarters in a scramble of limbs and hungry desperation. (The tattered remains of your expensive betrothal gown would later be discovered beneath a traumatized painting of Jungkook’s great aunt Mildred.)

“You cannot possibly know what you’ve done to me,” he whispered, lowering you onto his bed, “—how I’ve ached to be close to you...”

Part of you was so afraid that this was a trick. That you would wake up to discover that the words he was saying were nothing more than a cruel and elaborate lie—

But there was such utter conviction in his voice as he spoke—such awe in his gaze as he took in the sight of you uncovered before him. 

Yet you barely had time to be moved by it before he was kissing you again. 

An irresistible magnetism charged in the air between you, mixing potently with palpable relief and the downright joyous acceptance of a passion that—in hindsight—felt oddly inevitable. 

All you could think about—all you wanted— was him. The spark between you had been building for far too long. Now it blazed out of control.

Technically you had never explored this level of intimacy with a man before, but your body seemed to find rhythm with his instinctively—as if it had waited for the perfect moment to shake off its mask of civility and revel in its true primal purpose. 

You should have been self-conscious—shy even—but those impulses simply never arose … Not in his arms. Not with his words wrapping around you like the warmth of a morning sun. 

Arousal soaked the soft core of your body and Jungkook hissed in pleasure as the thick solid length of his cock slid messily over your folds. 

“This might hurt.”

“Doesn’t everything?” you asked softly. 

The words were out of your mouth before you could think to stop them and the prince’s eyes flew up to lock with yours. 

There was nothing between you now—no clothes, no defenses...

No regrets. 

“Yes... It did,” he whispered, “until you.”

Tears drifted down your cheek as you lifted your hand to his face. 

“Jungkook…”

Then he surged forward—sinking himself into you entirely with one perfect thrust. 

The feel of him nestled deeply in your sensitive heat was equal parts overwhelming and addictive. Your body bowed back in primitive gratification and for a moment you swore the sky mural on the ceiling sparked with literal lightning. 

Power unlike anything Jungkook had ever experienced surged violently through his blood causing him to throw his head back with a mighty roar. 

What are you? he thought dizzily as pleasure and magic raged over him. What is happening

The initial pain from being stretched so tightly morphed instantaneously into hot molten pleasure and you surged forward, bringing your mouth to his again.

Jungkook leaned back against the headboard, pulling your intimately joined bodies upright till you were facing one another. 

“So good,” he gasped against your lips and your walls tightened at the sound of his praise. 

His hand drifted down between to stroke your clit and you shuddered, reveling in the combination of fullness and stimulation. Your hips jerked forward involuntarily and you both groaned at the delicious friction.

“Hold on to me,” he whispered. 

Then his hands clamped into the soft curve of your waist as he lifted you, sliding your heat up the solid length of his shaft only to slam you back down over him again. 

“Yes!” You were nearly incoherent with pleasure—reveling in the sheer strength it took to work you up and down on his cock.

Words spilled out past your lips like the tides of a rising flood—words of adoration and want whimpered prettily into his skin like a prayer as he worked himself in your cunt.

That explosive release was building up again; Jungkook could tell by the way your body trembled wantonly against his own. 

“Look at me,” he growled, “I wanna watch you fall apart.”

His words were like kindling on an already raging fire. Every time he spoke it made you hotter. 

Look at me, Jeon Jungkook. 

Look at what you’ve done to me. 

You drew back, opening your eyes to let him see you—dazed and euphoric as you bounced like a toy on his cock. 

The sound of him pistoning in and out of your sloppy wet cunt filled the air around you, braiding in between your keening and filthy lascivious moans—

But everything else fell away when your gaze finally locked together with his. 

No one had ever looked at you like that. 

Like you were priceless.

Like you were everything. 

“I never hated you,” you gasped, unable to let the truth go unspoken for another moment. 

A beautiful smile bloomed over his features. 

“I know.” 

You came then—tightening brutally around him like a velvet vice. Jungkook shook with restraint as he worked you through it, letting the feel of your release build into his own. 

“Your sweet little pussy is holding on to me so tight, Sandflower. Let me come inside you please? You like being full don’t you? Isn’t that why you’re so messy, baby? You just want to be filled.”

“Yes!” you screamed. 

“Say it,” he growled, digging his fingers into the soft rolls of your hips for leverage as his pace increased. “Tell me who made your little pussy this needy.”

“You did!”

“And what do you want me to do about it, huh?” 

“Fill me up please,” you sobbed deliriously. 

Your pretty begging sent him over the edge with a carnal groan. His head dropped heavily onto your shoulder as he spilled into your womb, filling you till the evidence of his pleasure ran down your leg.

“I’ll give you anything,” he swore. “Anything you want.”

Dawn trickled in slowly through the windows, spreading soft tendrils of light over the bed where you lay next to him.

Your mind was torn between elation and guilt. But your body...

Your body could still feel the imprint of his fingers where they cupped your jaw—could still hear the tender words he whispered across your skin…

Anxiety and reality begin to claw through the haze of pleasure.

Oh gods… 

What have I done?

You were betrothed to his brother.

… Yet it was Jungkook’s name you called into the darkness.

Jungkook who broke through your maidenhead as you writhed and begged beneath him.

Your passion raged well into the night, and now you lay in knots beside him, watching his chest rise and fall in soothing rhythm even as your own thoughts spiraled out of control.

In the end, you wrenched your gaze away out of self-preservation. 

Dawn provided enough light to make out the books and artifacts lying haphazardly on the small drafting table next to his bed. Notes lay strewn among piles of discarded quills and glass bottles...

Then your eyes caught on a distinctive shape resting in a glass case near the center of the desk.

After a moment’s hesitation—you reached forward cautiously to retrieve it.

This must be his.

Jungkook’s bracelet was very different from his brother’s. Jin’s was ostentatious—covered in sparkling rubies and square-cut diamonds—it didn’t suit your tastes at all. In fact, you remembered cringing at the thought of wearing it for the rest of your life...

But this piece was exquisite.

Thick golden vines and delicate leaves braided intricately around each other in a complicated pattern to form the width of the band… 

It was the most beautiful bonding bracelet you had ever seen.

Suddenly Jungkook stirred beside you and your heart broke all over again.

How could I have been so blind?

Stifling a gasp, you could no longer hold back the tears that drifted down your cheek as you studied the bracelet—knowing you would hate whoever wore it.

Or perhaps it would never activate—not if Elaena was his soulmate. It would have died with her life force.

Still...

You turned to make sure Jungkook remained asleep.

For a moment… I can pretend...

I can pretend he’s mine.

Holding your breath you carefully slid the bracelet over your hand and pressed it to your wrist—right at the pulse point—

And it burned. For several seconds it burned everywhere—inside and out.

Then it stopped as abruptly as it began. Your eyes flew to your wrist in alarm–

No... 

It can’t be. 

The golden vines of Jungkook’s bracelet wove together in a perfect fit, bound irrevocably beneath a glowing rune directly above your pulse—the same rune that sealed every bracelet pair.

An Integra rune.

It meant complete.

“Oh...”

Frantically you began to tug at the bracelet, but it molded stubbornly to your wrist and would not disengage. Panic closed in from every side.

This cannot be happening! I had no right! The Council will be furious—

And Jungkook…

I never meant to trap you.

“... Sandflower?”

The heat of the bond forming had roused the prince from a heavy slumber. For a moment his gaze was soft and disoriented—until it landed on the glowing bracelet wrapped around your wrist and his eyes widened in shock. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Your soul was laid bare before him and he could destroy your with a word.

Tentatively he reached forward, lifting his fingers to trace the rune.

“Complete…” he breathed reverently. Then his eyes found yours. “It's complete.”

You gasped as he pulled you close, tenderly brushing away your tears.

“You are mine,” he whispered, unable to disguise the wonder in his voice.

Hope swelled in your chest.

“I love you.” 

The words escaped without conscious thought, but his smile came too quickly for you to regret them.

He kissed you then and you moaned happily against his mouth as he lifted you from the bed to gather you fully into his arms. After a long moment he drew back, resting his forehead tenderly against yours.

Joy warmed through him for the first time in nearly a decade.

“It’s so much more than I imagined.”

You smiled and shook your head. “What is?”

“Love,” he sighed against your lips. “Love when it’s real.”

Real…

This was real. 

Jeon Jungkook was yours. 

And you were his...

Happiness swirled around you in glorious waves—

Only to be replaced by absolute shock when your mind finally registered the state of Jungkook’s bedroom. 

“Oh my celestial gods! What happened?”

The entire chamber was—for lack of a better word—alive. 

Glass shard butterflies fluttered romantically around the windows. Thick leafy vines sprouted out from the wooden frames of the bed and chairs. The clouds painted over the ceiling drifted lazily across the plaster sky. The tea service on his dressing table was serving itself and the ancient sea battle painting positioned above the fireplace raged violently within its frame—complete with canon fire and tiny little pirates sword-fighting across the canvas decks. 

Jungkook huffed out an astonished chuckle as he took it all in. 

“Actually… I think it was… us.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in your throat. 

Perhaps the rush of the bond forming has made him delirious. 

“Jeon Jungkook… I’m not sure what you were up to last night, but I was certainly far too busy to enchant your bedroom furniture with…” you shook your head incredulously, “wildly advanced magic.”

Jungkook crossed his arms and leaned forward in mock disapproval. 

“There you go again, Sandflower, assuming the world revolves around you—”

“It should, you know. I’m very important.”

“Of course you are—but do recall that I said it was us—not you. And it's true—we are absolutely the cause.” He smiled softly, letting his gaze wander around the room again. “Honestly it was so obvious every time we fought—I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner...”

Jungkook’s expression was radiant when he finally turned back to you. His whole body seemed to hum with barely contained excitement. 

“You’re a polarity mage.”

Huh? 

“I’m… I’m a what?”

“A polarity mage—it’s an ancient magic—no one’s seen it in centuries because all the bloodlines that carried it were lost but…” his eyes darted over to where his quills were writing nasty notes to each other about who had the sharper tip, “it’s the only explanation.”

You drew back and began aggressively massaging your temples. A lot had happened in the last twenty-four hours and your brain was starting to hurt. 

“Jungkook, you’ll have to walk me through this—I’ve never even heard of polarity magic and now you’re saying I’ve used it—”

“Polarity mages can reverse the nature of any magic. They’re the natural counterpart of a necromancer because their abilities combine to form a balanced symbiotic pair.” 

He turned toward the dresser and carefully retrieved his favorite set of earrings. Then he held out his hand to reveal the two little jewelry bits dancing excitedly over his palm. 

“A necromancer can drain and manipulate life force—but we cannot increase or transfer it. However, when our energy combines with the aura of a polarity mage the result is—”

“Creative magic...” 

Your eyes widened in shock. 

Creative magic was nearly impossible to perform—the skill and experience required was extraordinary. What he was saying could not possibly be true…

And yet everything around you testified that it was. 

“But... how could I not have known?” 

Jungkook grinned. 

“Because polarity magic is mostly dormant until activated by a profound emotional catalyst—which—in this case…” he leaned forward to brush his lips gently over yours, “was me.”

“Mmm,” you hummed as he leisurely explored your neck with his mouth as if he hadn’t just dropped a life-altering revelation in your lap. “So am I going to have to hear about how you awakened my magic for the rest of our lives?”

“You really do know me so well,” he sighed, nosing playfully at the silky skin beneath your jaw. 

Unfortunately, the earrings—sensing they were about to be dropped—chose that moment to dig their spiky hooks into the meaty flesh of his palm. 

“Nasty little beasties aren’t you,” he chuckled. drawing back to dislodge the bloodthirsty jewelry. 

Your eyes widened in shock once again. 

“Jungkook… your scar…” Your gaze flew to your own hand and you gasped—not quite believing what you were seeing. “Our-our scars they’re—”

They were gone.

Completely gone—as if they had never been there to begin with. 

You ran your fingers over that small patch of flesh that had once symbolized the inescapable stain of your past. 

But there was nothing. 

Jungkook had fallen completely silent. After a moment you finally lifted your head to discover that his eyes were welling with tears. 

“I understood—somewhere in the back of my mind—that creative magic had healing and restorative potential, but I never expected—” the words caught painfully in his throat and he clenched his jaw as the emotions threatened to overwhelm him. “...I thought I would die with that scar.”

The significance of his words—of this moment—was not lost on you.

You had both come to believe that the damage inflicted by your pasts was irreversible. 

And you were wrong. Gloriously wrong. 

Healing and restoration were entirely possible when the two of you were together. 

Jungkook wrapped his arms tightly around you and for a long while you simply held on to one another in tearful silence. 

“My abilities were a curse,” he whispered, “but you have made them a redemption.”

꧁Epilogue꧂

Six Hours Later...

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably as his brother paced about the room.

“And she just… went to bed with you like she wasn’t betrothed to me two hours beforehand?”

“I’m not sure if answering that is—”

“Jungkook—”      

“She did. It… happened.” He cleared his throat. “Repeatedly.”

He tried very hard not to grin.

Jin pretended not to notice.

“And you’re willing to face the consequences of this? To potentially fight our parents—the Council—centuries of sacred tradition… For her?”

“I was willing to cross many lines for Elaena,” Jungkook’s fists clenched, “—but nothing will separate me from her.” He rose to his full height and loomed menacingly. “And that includes you.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of Jin’s mouth.

“Good. That’s what she deserves.”

Jungkook’s jaw dropped. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You’re being awfully accommodating and supportive right now, big brother…”

“Well… The thing is—” Jin shook his head. “Okay. Let me start over.” He took a deep breath. “Do you remember that deranged woman who drives me absolutely insane?”

Jungkook blinked several times and Jin attempted to be more specific.

“You know—the one from work who keeps bothering me with her face and her hip swaying and her total inability to see reason—”

“… Lin Yuna? That sweet archivist who bakes cookies for everyone?”

“Everyone but me!”

“My mistake,” Jungkook coughed.

“Yes… Well—she’s an expert on bonding bracelets. So I headed directly over to her office when my bracelet didn’t close to see if she could check it for some sort of… hex–or something—”

"You have no idea how craft works, do you?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Alright then—”

“Well we got in a fight—because she is the most unreasonable woman in the entire kingdom. And I accused her of being jealous—for some reason. Then she accused me of being an impulsive hot-head—which was rude. So I grabbed my bracelet and shouted ‘how’s this for impulsive!’ and I slipped it right over her hand and–”

“It closed.”

“It bloomin closed! On the wrist of a woman who has literally dumped tea on me five separate times!”

“Well… What did she do?”

“She screamed at me for a solid hour.” Jin’s face broke into a slow grin. “Then she screamed my name for several solid hours.” His eyes glazed over a bit. “I am unreasonably in love with her.”

Jungkook groaned and ran his hand over his face.

“Ooh, we are in so much trouble.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mom is going to kill us.”

“Exactly—which is why I think it might be best if we approach the Council together and explain to them—and our parents—why we’ve been casually slapping sacred bonding bracelets on women.”

“Technically my woman was the one slapping—”

“Reeaally—”

“-the bracelet.” Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Gods, you’re an animal.”

“That’s what Yuna said–”

“I am formally begging you to stop.”

Jin chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender while Jungkook indulged in a generous chug of his wine. 

“That reminds me, little brother… Is there a reason all of our silverware can talk now? It made for a rather off-putting snack.” He shivered. “My fork started screaming every time I tried to take a bite of cheesecake.”

“... And you still kept eating it?”

“Of course I did. I’m a grown man. Wailing flatware is not going to keep me from cheesecake.”

Jungkook bit his lip—his eyes squeezed shut—

“It wasn’t that funny,” Jin grumbled several minutes later while his brother wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. 

“Yes. Yes it was.”

The elder prince just shook his head and sighed. “So… the Royal Council. Together?”

“I think that’s probably for the best.”

“... You have any idea what you’re going to say?”

Jungkook let out a long breath.

“How does ‘I seduced my brother’s betrothed the moment I found out she couldn’t marry him’ sound?”

Jin winced.

“Needs work.”

Endnote: This story gave me a ton of trouble and I had to tear it apart and put it back together so many times I lost count. It has been through a hundred different versions (I originally posted a very different version of it for another fandom, but it barely resembles that early draft). Feedback and support is incredibly powerful magic. Even just the love you guys left on the teaser helped me with pushing through and posting. Please let me know what you thought of my story. I promise to treasure every word you say. The love people show my work fuels my creativity and keeps me posting. Truly it means so much...

[therealvinelle]

If Bella didn’t exist, what kind of partner do you see Edward being with and settling down with? Do you think he would eventually find someone or just be alone forever?

Sorry that I took so ridiculously long to answer!

The answer to this one is bleak.

Because why, exactly, does Edward fall in Bella? What makes her stand out from the crowd?

Famously, it’s her blood. 

He smells it and just like that it became his highest priority in this world. 

“I hadn’t imagined that such a scent could exist. If I’d known it did, I would have gone searching for it long ago. I would have scoured the planet for. I could imagine the taste.” (Midnight Sun, page 12)

People tend to downplay a bit just how insignificant Bella’s scent is to Edward. This is past “she smells like freesias<3”. This is a predator who just found the greatest prey he’ll ever find. This is the core of Edward/Bella, and there’s nothing personal or romantic about it.

Further, Edward is a person who puts all his stock in reading people’s minds. It’s how he interacts with people, and he has based much of his personality and self-esteem on it. He fancies himself someone who knows and understands the people around him intimately. How could he not? He knows their every thought.

Enter now the girl he can’t keep his mind off because her blood is driving him mad. Chapter 2 of Midnight Sun opens with him trying to stargaze in peace, but he’s just thinking about Bella. 

(...) a face, just an unremarkable human face, but I couldn’t quite seem to banish it from my mind. (Midnight Sun, page 26)

Of course, this is intended to be because they’re mates and Edward is supposed to already be already in love with her. He just doesn’t know it yet!<3

Well, I don’t believe in mates, and this guy is not in love. He finds Bella plain (chapter 1), unremarkable (chapter 2), even her eye color is boring. Not to mention that he doesn’t know her at all and desperately wants to eat her.

Anyway, Edward ends up returning to Forks, and finds that he can’t read her mind. The girl with the irresistible blood that he is already obsessed with is now officially an enigma. It’s no longer just about the blood, it’s about the entirety of Bella Swan. Who is this girl his mind won’t stop circling around?

He decides to find out.

This is where the mess that is Edward Cullen comes in, because in spite of or perhaps because of his gift, Edward has a very poor understanding of people. He judges people based on what he gleans from their minds, assuming that his gift lets him see their true self. Taking Rosalie for an example, she thinks about her looks compulsively. Edward takes this to mean that she’s vain. He never asks himself why Rosalie would be like this, if perhaps she’s like this because when it’s what her family and everyone else in her life has valued about her, if it’s because she doesn’t feel she has any other value, or if she in any way has a reason for obsessing over her looks that runs deeper than vanity.

My point being, Edward doesn’t get people, and he doesn’t know that he doesn’t get people. He bases his understanding of them on what he reads in their minds.

And so, when he sets about getting to know Bella Swan, he does so by asking her a million questions, and analyzing every answer she gives him. One example, he asks her which CD she’s listening to, she tells him, he asks which tune she likes best, she tells him, he runs through the lyrics in his head looking for some kind of clue.

He asks her questions that ultimately mean nothing, but they allow him to feel he’s getting closer. The result here is that he doesn’t know her at all, but he thinks he does. More on that later.

We also get him observing her. She’s nice to others, she doesn’t do the shallow teen things he disapproves of like fawning over him or gossiping with Jessica Stanley, and it totals to him quite liking what he sees. More on this later as well.

So, we have three components here that draws Edward to Bella. There’s her blood, her mystery, and the fact that he likes what he sees.

And that last bit is what the whole ship hinges on, for obvious reasons.

But what exactly does he see?

When Edward is drafting out her personality, he draws conclusions based on what he wants to see. He likes Bella, and more, he wants her to be special. He ends up imagining someone who is of course much too good for him, who probably won’t even give him the time of day, a person who couldn’t care less about his inhuman beauty. He projects a persona onto Bella that is saintly, and honestly quite similar to Carlisle. This persona has little to nothing to do with who Bella is. A good example of how far removed Edward’s Bella is from the real Bella is that he’s surprised to learn she finds him attractive.

Cut to Twilight, and Bella spends 90% of the book fawning over his inhuman beauty, and being very much a mortal teenager who has a crush on a boy. It’s just that she doesn’t gossip with Jessica, and Edward can’t read her fangirling mind, so he never has to find out that his version of Bella is made up.

There’s also the fact that Bella is very much the ideal woman to Edward. Frail, ladylike, naturally beautiful without makeup, kind, nurturing, aloof and above the other, menial teens. Edward very much has a Madonna/Whore complex (look at how he treats Rosalie), and Bella is the ultimate Madonna.

Then there’s the fact that Bella is human, which is a whole other can of worms best reserved for another post. I’ll just say this, Edward is deeply disgusted by vampires, and would not have fallen in love with one.

So, I think Bella was a perfect storm. Delicious enough that he became obsessed with her based on that alone, being around her is torturous which in turn makes it a challenge he can’t resist, a hidden mind he can project whatever personality he like onto, and she’s the kind of woman he approves of. Even her taste in literature is something that a snob like Edward can agree with.

It was Bella or bust.

More, as you’ve perhaps guessed from this rant, I don’t believe Edward loves her. He thinks he does, and he wants to because he has this whole romantic fantasy he’s living with her, but he doesn’t. There are a lot of things he would have done differently in this series if he did, such as not taking her to that meadow in the first place when there was a good chance he could kill her.

[bananaofswifts]

By Paul Tingen

From sketches to final mixes, engineer Jonathan Low spent 2020 overseeing Taylor Swift’s hit lockdown albums folklore and evermore.

“I think the theme of a lot of my work nowadays, and especially with these two records, is that everything is getting mixed all the time. I always try to get the songs to sound as finalised as they can be. Obviously that’s hard when you’re not sure yet what all the elements will be. Tracks morph all the time, and yet everything is always moving forwards towards completion in some way. Everything should sound fun and inspiring to listen to all the time.”

Speaking is Jonathan Low, and the two records he refers to are, of course, Taylor Swift’s 2020 albums folklore and evermore, both of which reached number one in the UK and the US. Swift’s main producer and co‑writer on the two albums was the National’s Aaron Dessner, also interviewed in this issue. Low is the engineer, mixer and general right‑hand man at Long Pond Studios in upstate New York, where he and Dessner spent most of 2020 working on folklore and evermore, with Swift in Los Angeles for much of the time.

“In the beginning it did not feel real,” recalls Low. “There was this brand‑new collaboration, and it was amazing how quickly Aaron made these instrumental sketches and Taylor wrote lyrics and melodies to them, which she initially sent to us as iPhone voice memos. During our nightly family dinners in lockdown, Aaron would regularly pull up his phone and say, ‘Listen to this!’ and there would be another voice memo from Taylor with this beautiful song that she had written over a sketch of Aaron’s in a matter of hours. The rate at which it was happening was mind‑blowing. There was constant elevation, inspiration and just wanting to continue the momentum.

“We put her voice memos straight into Pro Tools. They had tons of character, because of the weird phone compression and cutting midrange quality you just would not get when you put someone in front of a pristine recording chain. Plus there was all this bleed. It’s interesting how that dictates the attitude of the vocal and of the song. Even though none of the original voice memos ended up on the albums, they often gave us unexpected hints. These voice memos were such on‑a‑whim things, they were really telling. Taylor had certain phrasings and inflections that we often returned to later on. They became our reference points.”

Sketching Sessions

“The instrumental sketches Aaron makes come into being in different ways,” elaborates Low. “Sometimes they are more fleshed‑out ideas, sometimes they are less formed. But normally Aaron will set himself up in the studio, surrounded by instruments and synths, and he’ll construct a track. Once he feels it makes some kind of sense I’ll come in and take a listen and then we together develop what’s there.

“I don’t call his sketches demos, because while many instruments are added and replaced later on, most of the original parts end up in the final version of the song. We try to get the sketches to a place where they are already very engaging as instrumental tracks. Aaron and I are always obsessively listening, because we constantly want to hear things that feel inspiring and musical, not just a bed of music in the background. It takes longer to create, but in this case also gave Taylor more to latch onto, both emotionally and in terms of musical inspiration. Hearing melodies woven in the music triggered new melodies.”

Not long after Dessner and Low sent each sketch to Swift, they would receive her voice memos in return, and they’d load them into the Pro Tools session of the sketch in question. Dessner and Low then continued to develop the songs, in close collaboration with Swift. “Taylor’s voice memos often came with suggestions for how to edit the sketches: maybe throw in a bridge somewhere, shorten a section, change the chords or arrangement somewhere, and so on. Aaron would have similar ideas, and he then developed the arrangements, often with his brother Bryce, adding or replacing instruments. This happened fast, and became very interactive between us and Taylor, even though we were working remotely. When we added instruments, we were reacting to the way my rough mixes felt at the very beginning. Of course, it was also dictated by how Taylor wrote and sang to the tracks.”

Dessner supplied sketches for nine and produced 10 of folklore’s 16 songs, playing many different types of guitars, keyboards and synths as well as percusion and programmed drums. Instruments that were added later include live strings, drums, trombone, accordion, clarinet, harpsichord and more, with his brother Bryce doing many of the orchestrations. Most overdubs by other musicians were done remotely as well. Throughout, Low was keeping an overview of everything that was going on and mixing the material, so it was as presentable and inspiring as possible.

Mixing folklore

Although Dessner has called folklore an “anti‑pop album”, the world’s number‑one pop mixer Serban Ghenea was drafted in to mix seven tracks, while Low did the remainder.

“It was exciting to have Serban involved,” explains Low, “because he did things I’d never do or be able to do. The way the vocal sits always at the forefront, along with the clarity he gets in his mixes, is remarkable. A great example of this is on the song ‘epiphany’. There is so much beautiful space and the vocal feels effortlessly placed. It was really interesting to hear where he took things, because we were so close to the entire process in every way. Hearing a totally new perspective was eye‑opening and refreshing.

“Throughout the entire process we were trying to maintain the original feel. Sometimes this was hard, because that initial rawness would get lost in large arrangements and additional layering. With revisions of folklore in particular we sometimes were losing the emotional weight from earlier more casual mixes. Because I was always mixing, there was also always the danger of over‑mixing.

“We were trying to get the best of each mix version, and sometimes that meant stepping backwards, and grabbing a piano chain from an earlier mix, or going three versions back to before we added orchestration. There were definitely moments of thinking, ‘Is this going to compete sonically? Is this loud enough?’ We knew we loved the way the songs sounded as we were building them, so we stuck with what we knew. There were times where I tried to keep pushing a mix forward but it didn’t improve the song — ‘cardigan’ is an example of a song where we ended up choosing a very early mix.”

Onward & Upward

folklore was finished and released in July 2020. In a normal world everyone might have gone on to do other things, but without the option of touring, they simply continued writing songs, with Low holding the fort. In September, many of the musicians who played on the album gathered at Long Pond for the shooting of a making‑of documentary, folklore: the long pond studio sessions, which is streamed on Disney+.

The temporary presence of Swift at Long Pond changed the working methods somewhat, as she could work with Dessner in the room, and Low was able record her vocals. After Swift left again, sessions continued until December, when evermore was released, with Dessner producing or co‑producing all tracks, apart from ‘gold rush’ which was co‑written and co‑produced by Swift and Antonoff. Low recorded many of Swift’s vocals for evermore, and mixed the entire album. The lead single ‘willow’ became the biggest hit from the album, reaching number one in the US and number three in the UK.

“Before Taylor came to Long Pond,” remembers Low, “she had always recorded her vocals for folklore remotely in Los Angeles or Nashville. When I recorded, I used a modern Telefunken U47, which is our go‑to vocal mic — we record all the National stuff with that — going straight into the Siemens desk, and then into a Lisson Grove AR‑1 tube compressor, and via a Burl A‑D converter into Pro Tools. Taylor creates and lays down her vocal arrangements very quickly, and it sounds like a finished record in very few takes.”

Devils In The Detail

In his mixes, Low wanted listeners to share his own initial response to these vocal performances. “The element that draws me in is always Taylor’s vocals. The first time I received files with her properly recorded but premixed vocals I was just floored. They sounded great, even with minimal EQ and compression. They were not the way I’m used to hearing her voice in her pop songs, with the vocal soaring and sitting at the very front edge of the soundscape. In these raw performances, I heard so much more intimacy and interaction with the music. It was wonderful to hear her voice with tons of detail and nuances in place: her phrasing, her tonality, her pitch, all very deliberate. We wanted to maintain that. It’s more emotional, and it sounds so much more personal to me. Then there was the music...”

The arrangements on evermore are even more ‘chamber pop’ than on folklore, with instruments like glockenspiel, crotales, flute, French horn, celeste and harmonium in evidence. “As listeners of the National may know, Aaron’s and Bryce’s arrangements can be quite dense. They love lush orchestration, all sorts of percusion, synths and other electronic sounds. The challenge was trying to get them to speak, without getting in the way of the vocals. I want a casual listener to be drawn in by the vocal, but sense that something special is happening in the music as well. At the same time, someone who really is digging in can fully immerse themselves and take in all the beauty deeper in the details of the sound and arrangement. Finding the balance between presenting all the musical elements that were happening in the arrangement and this really beautiful, upfront, real‑sounding vocal was the ticket.

“A particular challenge is that a lot of the detail that Aaron gravitates towards happens in the low mids, which is a very warm part of our hearing spectrum that can quickly become too muddy or too woolly. A lot of the tonal and musical information lives in the low mids, and then the vocal sits more in the midrange and high mids. There’s not too much in the higher frequency range, except the top of the guitars, and some elements like a shaker and the higher buzzy parts of the synths. Maintaining clarity and separation in those often complex arrangements was a major challenge.”