#someone force me to edit this which was posted just as a thread fic on twitter

[hanzajesthanza]

there were so many thoughtful responses to this post! i wasn't expecting to get so many sincere answers, i was just thinking out loud, so before i start responding i just want to say thank you :)

i'm going to be responding just in one big reblog by @ ing people via common threads which popped up in the reblogs/replies, since i don't want to reblog this post ten times, each with one response... this might be kinda weird to @ everyone, but i think this is the most organized and efficient way to go about it.

also, small edit to the original post before i start responding, i'll say that i came to disagree with the way i phrased this: "bothers me," but i didn't want to edit the post because it seems disingenuous to do so. so, it doesn't bother me, i just can't really explain how it makes me feel, it's kind of like a mix of uncertainty and yearning at the same time. kind of like, "it's a strange predicament, i think i already know the answer, but it makes me sad all the same." not really sure how to phrase that other than "bother," but know that it is a bother that comes from inside, not outside (i.e., i'm not mad at anyone)

thus commence the replies!! i'm going to organize them by common reasons brought up:

#1 : there are many adaptations of the witcher, it's not just the books:

I think in the end most witcher fans, especially in the English speaking part of the internet, don't consider themselves exclusively game or book fans. The series became popular outside eastern europe through the games so most fans see themselves as both game and book fans. - @jawanaka

This. There's already too many adaptations for anybody to like only parts of the whole witcher experience. Never heard somebody say they're a Sapkowski fan. I, certainly, am not, even if that does by no means downplaying his creation. - @do-androids-dream-ao3acc

i totally see where this is coming from, and i agree with you in that this is just fact that most fans take the books and the games as existing on the same continuum - even when we acknowledge that they are separate things, it's not the common fan experience to really distinguish between them.

but also, i mean, i would consider myself to be a fan of the books "exclusively" - meaning, not that i don't like the games, but i'm not really interested in talking, blogging, or making fancontent (art, fic, analysis) about the games in the same way that i am about the books. like, i'm a fan of the games, but i'm not a dedicated, knowledgable fan, i don't really seek out conversations about them, i don't think about them in my free time, i don't want to analyze them deeply.

i don't really see the witcher as a cohesive experience or franchise, i see it like: these are the books, these are the games, they're separate things by separate creators, they have separate stories and meanings. i understand that's not the common fan experience, i wouldn't force that view on anyone else, but that's just how i see it. and i don't think i'm the only one, certainly.

I dislike the Witcher books actually. I know others who dislike the TV show. It really is possible for someone to only like a part of the adaptations or the canon. I like some parts of some of the Witcher games, and some of the fanfic, and that’s what makes me stick around. I’m very much not a fan of everything Witcher. - @straysinfiltrator

yeah, this is kind of what i'm saying, that it's possible for someone to only like a part of the witcher, i'm not a fan of everything witcher, either. it's just, the part i like is the books.

i guess i kind of illustrated my own point - because i said "witcher fans" in my original post above, which suggests all witcher fans of all witcher mediums - but really, what i meant was, "fans of the witcher book series". isn't it confusing to all go by the same name, in such cases when you're trying to specify just the books, just the games, or elsewise?

by this, i don't mean to divide the community or anything, what i mean is - it would help fans find more about the witcher books, if they were searching for specifically fan discussions and content about the books. like, using "sapkowski witcher" as a search term would help specify, "oh this is about the books and not the games." i've been in that situation a lot where i'm trying to find stuff about the books specifically, but only games stuff comes up.

#2 - non-witcher sapkowski + small english-speaking fandom

Many good points were made, but i want to add that Sapkowski himself considers the Hussite trylogy his "masterpiece". Calling yourself a "Sapkowski fan" would imply that you're a fan of not only the Witcher, but Hussite trylogy, his other short stories (Żmija, the stories from something ends, something begins [the other ones, not the Witcher themed ones], that one trpg he worked on in the 90s) and also his works reflecting upon English fantasy (Rękopis Znaleziony W Smoczej Jaskini, his book about Arthurian legends). Which would exclude the majority of non-polish fans since most of his works aside from the Witcher wasn't translated. - @dukeofdogs

Usually I'm not even a fan of *all* works of an author even if I call them "one of my favourite authors". - @antimonyschnuck

The amount of people who are exclusively book fans and work in English are quite few. - @jawanaka

oh definitely! all of this is true!

when it comes to the "popular" witcher, the only-books fans who can only speak english is like... at the moment, we could all dance on the head of a pin. but that's a starting point, a goal, like, i want to encourage more people who don't necessarily speak polish to read the books and get introduced to the 'book witcher'.

and with other works, that's also kind of a(n optional) goal, i think, right? that fans of the witcher books should be recommended, or at least told about sapkowski's other works and greater passions as an author, or at least given context to it (again re: english-only speaking fandom, the context and history is often lost, so it's left to being communicated between fans)

from what i can tell, there's not much of an international community for them now, but the way i am thinking about it, if the international fans of the witcher books acknowledged sapkowski's authorship more in relation to them, then there could potentially be a broader community for his works that are less popular relative to the witcher and then, maybe those could gain more of an international fanbase as well, if there was more "spill over" from the witcher to other works.

translations, whether official or unofficial, follow demand, so if there were fans that could say - hey we want this - then someone's got to make it, eventually...

personally, i want to read maladie (short story) and the hussite trilogy, but i'm not sure where to start because i don't know much about arthurian legend and i know next to nothing about the bohemian wars, so i feel like i need to prepare and study before i read them (it's not like the witcher where you can kind of just jump in).

but if there was a cohesive fanbase that i could be with, talk to, learn from, be encouraged by, get recommended starting points of research from, then it might not be such a daunting task? like, in the witcher books fandom, there's always someone ready to field questions about such-and-such scenes. or maybe, right, maybe fans will tell me - "don't read it, it's not worth it, you won't like it," which is also an opinion i'm open to hearing! i was also interested in musicians and in the bomb crater, but there's no translations for them yet (and though i could just stop being lazy and run them through google translate, that's no way to read...). but one which i had the translation for and also which doesn't require any prior research (except maybe a couple of wikipedia pages) is golden afternoon, and i liked that one! (as dark as it is!)

i kind of put this in my tags on the original post: (...) ALSO i think if we united under his name then there would be more inter-series fans (...) ive always wondered where the fans of the hussite trilogy are (online). is there an online fanbase? (...) and if we do that then we can get more and better translations hopefully (...) like theres still no official translations for a ton of his short stories.

#3 - author fan relations

I will never be a fan of people. I'm a fan of a piece of work. (...) "Favourite author" lets them keep their humanity and you can still be a fan of their work after they fuck up in one or the other way (...) - @antimonyschnuck

andrzej sapkowski to stara kurwa -everyone who's been a fan of the books for long enough - @stillness138

i have nothing more to add to these ones, this is just good sense and accurate, lol. i mean, maybe there is a compromise in here somewhere, and to clarify, i do NOT mean we should be out here trying to have parasocial relationships with authors 😅

i just think it's easier for me, in some part, to specify "i'm talking about the witcher that is sapkowski's story," for the reasons in #1 - i like the books, i mean there are the parts that i don't like, but i like them overall as a cohesive body of work, with a beginning and end. to specify "sapkowski's witcher" i think also means to acknowledge all the fucked up parts too, for example, the sexism in sapkowski's witcher is not the sexism present in cdpr's witcher...

Also don't quite share your experience in how people refer to the author as the name of the fandom. HP fans called themselves that long before R*wling had shown her entire ass to the world. Likewise, I've sen people refer to themselves as fans of Narnia, A Song of Ice and Fire or Wheel of time, not C.S Lewis, George R.R. Martin or Robert Jordan fans. Tolkien among fantasy authors seem rather unique in this regard. - @jawanaka

good to think about! yeah, i guess it depends on the author. i mean i've seen people call themselves george rr martin fans, but... yes, it relates back to like, do we really want to have this name-basis connection to the author. i guess it also depends on how it's used in conversation, too - like if you're recommending a body of work, you might drop the author name, but if you're saying you're a fan of a series, you will just say the name of the series.

maybe it also comes down to the word "fan" - like, there's a difference between "fan of sapkowski's witcher" and "fan of sapkowski"? no one is disputing that he wrote the book series, but for some fans, it's like, do you have to rub it in?

I think one reason is because of the lawsuit against cdpr, that really painted him as “old man yells at video game” when in reality he didn’t hate the content of the games like some people report, he just thought he deserved some of the royalties from something that became so internationally popular, its a pretty standard practice actually, in fact he seems to be alot more laissez faire about the use of his work than most authors - @supercupcakecollector-love

and yes haha i feel like this is a major reason why a lot of people don't like even bringing up his name. it's quite unfortunate imo because i feel like there are much more valid reasons to hate him other than this one... i'm all for being a hater but let's start with the stuff he deserves to be hated for, like the descriptions of young girls' breasts

again, thank you to everyone who responded, i've gotten a lot to think about!! hope this wasn't too much of an awkward format to do the replies in

it kind of bothers me that witcher fans don’t really unite under sapkowski’s name like other fans of fantasy authors do (e.g. “tolkien fans”).

in practically any other fandom of fantasy books, save for the particularly rancid authors known for their disappointing and shameful behavior or views (e.g. jk r*wling), it’s just regular business to say the author’s name. but sapkowski’s name is treated like a dirty word in the witcher fandom, for really no good reason…

it must be asked — what is stopping us from doing so?! why don’t we call ourselves sapkowski fans. it would be much easier than saying “i’m a fan of the witcher, but only the books, i don’t consider the various adaptations canon, etc. etc.” … “half a hundred words, when three are enough!!”

[polzkadotz]

broom-maker Neil/keeper Andrew - an aftg hp au 🪄

In the past, whenever Neil has overheard someone saying how “new brooms are better because old handmade brooms were slower, badly spelt and dangerous,” Neil had badly suppressed the urge of getting one of his handmade brooms to whack the person over the head.

“You capitalistic fuck,” Neil would tell them instead. “That’s a lie created to discredit and destroy the artistry behind broom-making! Their brooms are not faster or safer. Try this one, if you’re not fucking scared of it.”

Then he’d hand over one of his own brooms and let the fucking idiots fly around for a while.

Not all of them had the money to afford Neil’s prices in full, but those always seemed very interested in Neil’s more affordable instalment options. Pay a little every month, and you’d have a greatly made, nicely spelled broom just for you.

If you didn’t pay, well… The brooms had a security feature. It would absolutely fly itself back to Neil, regardless of you being on top of it or not.

It was safe to say then that Neil was a fairly famous broom-maker. Broom-making companies hated him, and he gloated on their resentment. 

“It makes you look younger,” Allison had told him once. “Whenever you know someone openly hates you, it looks like you lose 10 years or something.”

“He already looks like a child,” Seth would add, disgusted as always, and their little gaggle of teammates would promptly shut him up.

With or without the glee over being hated, the fact was that Neil had a pretty good amount of business always coming his way. He was always busy. Often, he had to turn work away.

When he saw Kevin Day outside of his shop though, he wanted to turn the man away not because he was too busy, but because that was basically a walking lawsuit. Neil liked to antagonise broom-making corporations, but not to a point where he would actually get sued over it. 

Neil knew things about Kevin Day. Too many things one might say, if one wasn’t inclined to know a lot about how fan culture worked. Kevin Day was just a fucking great Seeker, which Neil had thought he’d also get to be, once upon a time. Dreams change though, and being a fan was still good.

Or rather, good enough.

Neil’s obsession with Day had started at school (where he’d studied with all of Kevin Day’s current teammates, who still teased him about his “man crush”), but the man himself hadn’t gone to Hogwarts, and didn’t seem happy to talk about his experience at the Durmstrang Institute.

However, Neil’s obsession came in handy right then, because he knew Kevin wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near Neil’s shop. The Nimbus Racing Broom Company heavily sponsored Kevin. If he was thinking about buying Neil’s anything, even if it was just a wood polisher, well…

Kevin Day would have to think again. And then think a third time, for good measure.

Or that was what Neil had been planning to tell Kevin, until the man opened the door to Neil’s shop as if he owned the place and declared, in a way that made it seem like Neil had no right to say no, “I need you to make a broom for one of my teammates.”

Neil didn’t like that. He already made brooms for basically all of Kevin’s teammates. Except for one particular, terrible teammate that Neil dreadfully didn’t want to work with.

One famous for making every single broom develop an anxiety disorder, probably from the terror of working with him.

It was Kevin Day, though.

Sighing, Neil turned to him and said, “Not without seeing this teammate of yours flying.”

[visceralcoma]

Why people gotta be inconsiderate with how they tag fics? Like obviously i can't force them to do anything, but was just saying hey, there is a better tag for this. Or better yet, make a new tag and be a trendsetter!. Make a tag and maybe there will be more of it, especially as a fairly popular author to encourage the fandom - you know?

Anyway, tagginig MCIT/MGIT on this post to make a public service announcement to our little niche to watch out for people using the popularity of the tag to get eyes on their works. It's a fic fake out and the author did not respond well to being told there are better ways to tag the fic, or suggestions on creating the MC in Bridgerton fic (which i would welcome with open arms because it'd encourage more people to write it!)

(UPDATE! They removed the Modern Girl in Thedas tag~)

VisceralComa wrote: ACK! this is lovely. And I only happened to stumble on it in the MCIT tag. You know you can create a tag so its "Modern Character in Bridgerton" or "Modern Girl in Bridgerton" so it's more obvious which fandom canon the MC ends up in. "Modern Girl in Thedas" is kinda for Dragon Age, given the name..."Thedas" is specific to Dragon Age. Or use more general tags like Isekai, Portal Fantasy, or Modern People in Fictional Worlds tag.

Darsynia responded: Thank you! I want to preface my next statement by saying I don't mean to shoot down your kind advice-- I did know that about DA, and have actually seen the tag used in multiple fandoms (though interestingly, this is the fourth such fic I've written and the first to use the tag written out as such, instead of using it as slang in the notes) as shorthand for the trope. Similar, I think, to the way the MCU in particular uses 'Dead Dove: Do Not Eat' as a shorthand for a darkfic that isn't playing around, even though that's from Arrested Development (and I think the moment was played for comedy in that series). A popular MCU Tony/OC story is actually titled 'Modern Girl in Thedas,' which probably lent credence to my assumption. I wonder now if the term was more popular in the mid aughts and I'm just hanging onto it, or what, otherwise I'd imagine you'd have seen more use of it and it'd be less noteworthy? In the past I've kind of relied on the summary to make clear that it's a 'fan wakes up in the world' story, or tagged it with some combo of the words, so I do find it interesting to see what common tags end up pulling in readers, to be sure. In any case, if you like the trope and are an MCU or HP fan, check out Iron Helix (Tony Stark/OC) and A Solution More Beautiful (series rewrite WiP from book 4 onward, Sirius/OC/Remus... eventually). And thanks for stopping by! ((edit: just to add, I tend to write vanishingly rare pairings, so the chances that someone would come across my story and click it, after using a 'Portal Fantasy' tag and not sorting by a specific fandom did, quite honestly, feel unlikely. So the mere fact that you commented has given me a chance to re-evaluate my decision on that, I guess! Though, at this point, going back and tagging previous fics with it seems futile, heh.))

Then they deleted my second comment almost immediately after responding.

Darsynia responded: You're really doing this? Honey, let it go. Or, I tell you what, if it bugs you this much, report it. Take a gander at how long I've been on the site and see whether I need your lecture, or don't, it really couldn't matter more to me.

They deleted my comment thread but I still have the emails if anyone wants proof. The fic in question is this one: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38088703/chapters/95144734, if anyone wants to take a shot at convincing them how to be considerate with tagging.

You'd think someone with an account creation dating back to 2009, they'd know this by now?

[redxblueihateloveyou]

Hey i really love your blog!!! I just plucked the courage to actually send u an ask fhdjhd but GOSH i love your video edits and your gifs and your meta article posts, you're so articulate and you can explain/describe moments in a way that makes me go "oh wow, i cant believe i haven't seen it that way before!!" Haha ANYWAYS i'm just here to say that i completely agree with what all u said, Free creators might do a lil fanservice here and there for the 25 ships that exists within the fandom's circle, but rinharu's storyline is clearly the most romantic one! And i'd argue it's the one closest to being canon esp after part 1, i mean the fact that they put such an explosive emotional outburst right at the end of the second to the last movie means a lot. It's like reinforcing the fact that this series has always been about them, and everything that has happened only happened either because they met or they grew appart and miss eachother. I kinda feel like maybe.. juust maayyybe there's a chance KA wants to make the ship canon, since it's the last movie and they want to end it on a highnote maybe (bcs honestly i think the only reason they've been holding back is purely bcs of the merch sales, since they don't have a problem showing a wholesome lesbian love story in kobayashi maid dragon) butt i could be wrong, maybe i'm just overly optimistic and delusional, they could somehow ruin it and give an ending that panders to all the ships again 😅🥲, but at least there's a clear-cut guarantee that part 2 would dedicate a large portion of it fixing rin and haru's fight!!! Oohh how can i wait another 6 months now!!😭😭 (sorry for the long ask btw!! 🙏🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️)

OMG thank you so so much!! For watching my vids too! ❤️❤️❤️ It really means a lot to me! Ahhhh wow, thats the longest ask I've ever recieved! 😍 I'm trying to explain myself so hard lol I'm glad its appreciated, bc sometimes I'm like "I don't fucking know how to say this" xD

Well, you know me, I only care for one ship, which is the only one with confirmed info that they're both actually gay and have mutual feelings for each other. There are some other ships in free! I'm fine with (those do not include Rin or Haru in them xD), but I just mostly don't care, bc after reading all the stuff, you can see that in some of those to one the other one is actually like his second option, which I just do not like. Others I just don't even see, bc again to me who witnessed great close male friendships and having two sisters who I'm very close to, I just do not see anything romantic in that.

It's not just Free! tbh, it's like any sports anime these days. They see two guys walking together, it's a ship. And like no one cares if they're just bros. Like I'd get i they did some fanservice fanservice, but like I never saw anyone in Free! crossing the line the way rinharu do. I can without thinking much name you 10 rh moments that no matter how hard you think can't be explain as being bros, but can't name one when it comes to others. I just find some ppl shipping everyone with everyone weird sometimes. It's like western fans see like some eastern actors or singers slap each other ass lovingly and they're like "oh they're fucking" I'm like "yeah, ofc all 500 of them, you're absolutely right". And Free! doesn't do anything even like that, I just do not get sometimes like what moment even brought on some ships. I'm genuinely confused. Albert and Haru? You fucking fell from a sakura tree or smth? I'm...

I'm especially confused when it comes to guys, whose character type is who I call "I only want this one and if I can't have it, then I'm ok" xD. It just always surprised me, when they try to pair up them with someone else, it's like a complete ooc.

I'm also not into this whole "well, if there are gays in this anime, than everyone there is gay". I'm like... huh. It's like with KNB and MDZS I had same feeling. It's like you have already couples there who are canon/borderline canon, why do you need another 10 who don't even interact or just don't even go there? I'm always so confused in those situations. Or like wangxian is married and some are like "no, I actually don't like it, let me write a fic when they're with other ppl". Lan Zhan... being in love or having sex with someone else? Yeah, that's not Lan Zhan, dude, you're writing about someone else. Might as well change the name at this point.

But last time I went to twitter someone had a thread about how if they make s4 of Free! they should mainly explore there Momo's angst (and no, it wasn't a joke), so I'm already like, I'm just.. nothing will surprise me no more. But I'm forever gonna be confused.

Yeah, I eel you about "going there". I mean seeing part of it, it just kinda cemented my confusion, bc I do not get how it can be considered platonic. We were just discussing since yesterday with @freeseafirefly how I now even more perplexed and do not understand how they will resolve it without going into relationship territory. It's just our point here is that like... no one forced them to go there (I mean its not like this whole fandom has some wild expectations or anything already), we were waiting or our usual friendship and swimming and maybe tiny conflict about struggles of pro-careers and some usual rh implications (maybe all the rh gay in dramas as always). Not some pure fanfiction coming to life here haha.

Like why I'm laughing is bc I twice used in my "fics" bringing up him leaving Haru as a force to push the confession, bc there's no way if he adresses this it won't lead to this. And now we not only have this (bc Haru just basically layed it out there), but an actual scene of him playing on their feelings for each other and a literal image of Rin leaving and "taking Haru's heart with him" to the point when he's for the first time in his life openly crying on the ground. And it's not like this scene can be interpreted as anything else, the whole fandom talks same, bc the whole fight was just about them, what Haru said was just about them, there's a literal boom of his heart getting out of his chest, before he falls and now he's heartless.

So our question is like... why go there?

It's like some say that they might still resolve it with "they're special to each other" and swimming, but still like we already knew that, there was no reason to go that far is what I'm saying. And to think that it was planned since forever giving the clues is like... ???

The whole spoon theme also throw me on the loop because like, lets be honest, it's wedding themed. And that part of the interview about part 2 there also made me go...?????? Because I mean, huh?

This is just all in all very interesting turn of events to say the least. I do not see the point of all of this if its not what I think it is, esp after seeing tweets like "even I see a rh wedding and I'm mh T_T". It's just all very unsubtle, that's why we're confused.

Like who knows, maybe we'll really by some magic turn of events get lucky and they really decided that since its the ending, it's okay to go for it. But I also don't wanna to hype myself much, I'm already really happy with it, just bc again, this scene already proves all of my points.

And yeah, I'm sure they'll pander to everyone, bc it's the end and etc and we have to handle everything on the good note and there's a whole line of ppl who's obsessed with us, esp with Haru xD, but like bromance pandering and romance pandering are different things, you know *wiggles eyebrows* and u know who always gets the second one.

[caspercryptid]

thanks for sharing your collaborative writing process for HtF & NSB! Would you mind talking about your individual writing process as well for your non-collaborative works? (if you take a different approach)

Oh I do, and I'd be happy to! This is gonna be a little different from the collaborate answer because the main obstacle when working on my own is motivation, not editing or story structure. So my process is much more focused around jumping that hoop.

As I've been fairly open about, I'm pretty seriously disabled. I have ADHD, chronic pain, migraines, and chronic fatigue, and I'm what's sort of cutely referred to as a spoonie, which goes hand in hand with those things. So my process is pretty tailored to being gentle with myself.

Neil Gaiman once said something great on here in a post that I don't have the spoons to look up that went roughly along the lines of "Everything that isn't writing is writing too", as in all of the stuff you do that isn't writing when you're supposed to be writing is an important part of your process. You need rest, you need downtime, you need to listen to music and do stupid bullshit. What I do when I'm working on my own is consider where I'm at in a story and let it sit in my head until I get the right spark to keep going. What that looks like kind of depends on the project. Another great thing Neil Gaiman said is that you never learn to write a book, you only ever learn to write the book you're writing.

I've sort of let a couple of my projects sit for a bit because I've been juggling the collaboration and requests but just as a practical example, what's written between the stars, my conspiracy theory Jayvik au, actually requires some research. That is something I super have to Want to do to get it done. So for that one before I start a chapter I ask myself— what do I need to write the next chapter? What information do I have to have before I start? What usually happens is that I tell myself I don't need to write the chapter, I just need to answer those questions. But usually, by the time I've answered those questions, I'm in a much better mindset to write the chapter.

Another set of questions I ask myself that applies more to other fics is "what's stopping me from writing this chapter?" If I have no energy, that's a non-starter. For other people who aren't chronically ill the answer to that might be that you need to drink some coffee and you're Gucci, but if I don't have the energy to write, I need to go lie down. Full stop, non negotiable. It has been a major relief to stop trying to force my output on that. If it's not happening it's just not happening.

Another important answer is "I don't want to" to which the follow up is "why?" This is sometimes harder than you'd think. This Ain't A Scene experiences delays sometimes because the answer is "I don't think I can be funny right now" which there's also not really anything for! If I have to be in a certain brainstate to write, than either I listen to the fic playlist till I get there, or I wait it out. Sometimes the answer is "I don't know what happens next" and the answer to that is just... To think about it, or to ask someone else. Usually when I'm working on my own I have a big picture idea of where the fic is going in my head and then I put it on the tracks and push. I've run tabletop campaigns for a while so my other big rule is that everything is a chevkov's gun. I re-read my own writing to remember what I'm doing, pick up dropped threads, and stay on track. I play yes-and with myself. Instead of editing things out of chapters that don't fit, I ask myself why they got there and make that fit within the story framework. This sometimes takes the form of the macguffin, like the void box in HtF. When/if other elements of the story stall, I ask myself: what do I have in my bag of tricks? What have I set up? What can I deliver on? And rustle around until something clicks.

For short fics, it's all waiting for something to click. The last question I ask myself is "what do I want to write right now", and then I go looking through my inbox and turn things over until something sparks and I have an idea of what to do with it, and then I grab it and bang it out.

My actual writing process is much less helpful than the editing guide, unfortunately! I am mildly dyslexic, I usually do not edit much beyond running spell check. Once I've managed to nurture the right spark I sit down and I write until I run out of steam, and if it's not a complete chapter or a full prompt fill, that's fine! I put it down and go work on something else. On more style heavy stuff like Blood In Your Mouth, the project I'm working on where Viktor dies and Jayce is trying to necromancy him, I edit more than I do something like Scene. Sometimes serious emotional stuff requires tweaking because I want to make sure I use the right words. Most of my editing is re-reading the chapter before I post it and changing things that don’t quite work. 

On prompt fills, I usually try to come up with a really banger first line or paragraph, and then the rest kind of writes itself! The key for me is establishing a vibe and then keeping to that vibe unless a hard heel turn is required. This is also greatly aided by rereads of similar stuff, or from reading my own first line 12 times. The key to writer's block for me is always breaking ground. I type one sentence and if nothing else works, I close the document and do something else. Later, when I come back to that document, I've got a place to start!

Okay, I wrote this with a migraine, so I hope it was enlightening and not too rambling. I'm gonna sign it off with saying that anyone who finds my output intimidating should keep in mind that I've been in academics for like seven years. Once you reach a point where you have to write the damn thing or fail the class, having your pick of fanfiction in your inbox is a blessing. And ultimately— I've just had a shitton of practice! Writing every day has made me a very fast and much more effective writer, as has reading a lot of other people's work. Sometimes when I'm stuck I read Richard Siken's Crush (I actually own a copy and I highly recommend it but y'know, we can't all own books) and listen to music. I need input to have output! I think everybody does.

Thanks for the question, anon! This was a good think. Feel free to ask whatever if anything in here was confusing or not detailed enough.

[shoyomeow]

EPIPHANY

❀ characters : wakatoshi ushijima x female reader

❀ genre : angst, angst, more angst and a sprinkle of fluff

❀ wc: 1533

“I know I shouldn’t be here.” 

“Then why are you here?” 

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You refused to believe it. 

Anybody but him.

He couldn’t possibly do this to you could he? Sora must have mistaken him for someone else right? Or who knows, he’s been getting a lot of attention from the press nowadays, maybe a hungry paparazzi made an edit for him. With the technology today it wasn’t completely out of the question right? 

You couldn’t even listen to your own thoughts because a part of you knew that you were simply trying to delude yourself by coming up with these justifications. You knew that no one could truly mistake him for someone else, he towered over everyone else and had an overwhelming presence, besides Sora had 20/20 vision. Paparazzi? That’s impossible because he was wearing the clothes that he had FaceTimed you in an hour ago, no matter how good you are it would be impossible for paparazzi to edit such a realistic picture within an hour and even more impossible for Sora to get hands on it before it was posted on social media.

You had always prided yourself in being rational, so why was it that right now you wanted to be anything but that?

Being rational meant accepting the fact that your boyfriend, who you loved and adored and had been with since your second year of high school, had his hands entwined with a stranger.

Being rational meant accepting that the ease in which he was doing this in a public setting meant that it wasn’t the first time. 

Being rational meant that you had to acknowledge that he couldn’t possibly be drunk because he refuses to drink for a week before a match, there have never been any exceptions and he probably wasn’t going to start now.

Being rational meant that you couldn’t be in denial anymore. 

Being rational meant that Wakatoshi Ushijima, the last person you had expected to hurt you, was cheating on you. And from the looks of it, it probably was not the first time he was doing this. 

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“Ushijima-san, you should go home.” the feelings that you thought you had overcome, the betrayal, the grief, the anger and the hatred you felt for yourself for so long came back crashing on you as you looked at the drunk man. At first glance one couldn’t possibly tell that he was drunk, but you had known him for far too long to not recognise his intoxicated state.

“You used to call me Toshi, please call me that again.”

“Ushijima-san,” you were clutching onto your apartment door so hard that you wondered if you would bleed today, “Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

It was four in the morning and you had been sitting in the same position for the past hour. Prior to that you were far too numb to realise your own emotions as you mindlessly and with a sense of monotony packed your bag. 

You sat down on the couch, the first piece of furniture that you had bought with Wakatoshi when you moved in with him, the once beige sofa was stained and had threads coming out of it’s upholstered ends but you never did have the heart to throw it away. 

There was a sense of dread that settled at the pit of your stomach as you processed your own thoughts. Were you going to remain oblivious to Wakatoshi doing this had Sora’s friend not sent her those pictures? Was he going to keep the wool over your eyes as you planned for a future with him? What if you two had kids at some point, would he have continued to do this?

The fact that he seemed so normal and nonchalant about him cheating was the thing that hurt you. It would make you a liar if you said that the act of cheating itself didn’t hurt but you could’ve dealt with that pain easier if he had been the one to tell you. But to have him lie to you for god knows how long, and see you plan your suburban fantasy with him was humiliating.

You heard the click of the door and straightened your back, he may have hurt you but you will not give him the satisfaction or ego boost by crying over him.

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“Please let go of me Ushijima-san.” his grip on the long sleeves of the hoodie you were wearing wasn’t strong, it was similar to the grip a mother would tell her child to practice so that they wouldn’t get separated. You didn’t know how long you could keep up the indifferent facade. You didn’t want him to see you be vulnerable, not back then and certainly not now. 

“You used to wear my hoodies too y/n, why did you stop? I always liked seeing you be swallowed up by them.” Ushijima wasn’t a clingy drunk, he was simply a person who exaggerated his pre-existent qualities. He became more blunt, if that was even possible and he always acted on the first thought that popped into his mind.

“Because we have nothing to do with each other anymore, Ushijima-san.” 

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“You’re up?” his tone was neutral like it always was, no underlying nervousness, no guilt that you could sense, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving Wakatoshi.” you wondered how your tone sounded so firm and sincere when you felt like you were breaking apart inside.

“Ah I see, is everything alright?” there was a time when you found him taking everything into a literal sense endearing, now you just wanted to kill him.

“Everything is just dandy, you would know wouldn’t you? After all, you just got laid.” You wondered if it was normal to feel smug as you witnessed the sense of dread, shame and guilt well up in his demeanour, “I just want to know, how long has this been going for?”

He knew better than to lie to you but at least he had the decency to not meet your eyes as shame manifested and bloomed within him, “Around eight months.”

“Eight months,” you mulled over it for a moment when realisation struck you, “That was when you had gone with the team to Osaka right? For a retreat.”

“Yes.”

“I see.” you released a soft sigh, you would cry, you were going to bawl your eyes out as soon as you got into the cab that you had booked for yourself, the one who was definitely going to charge extra for having to wait for so long. You would probably cry for days over the fact that eight months ago, when he had missed out on your anniversary and you had not been worried about it because you had been together for far too long to worry about stuff like that, he had probably been balls deep into someone else.

“Ushijima,” his surname tasted foreign on your tongue as you had not addressed him with that in far too long, “I want you to not talk or say anything else. I’m leaving and by that I mean that I’m leaving you. I wish you luck in your future endeavours and may you forever rot in hell.” 

“Y/n,” he called out as you grabbed your things to leave, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“You know something?” you smiled at him, the bitter and hate filled smile that you gave him made his heart ache, “I think that’s the first time I’ve recognised a lie of yours. Kudos to me.”

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“The cab is here Ushijima-san, please get in and leave. I have already told them your address.”

“Why?” He slurred as he was helped by the driver to get  into the car, “Why can’t it be our address anymore? Please come back. I miss you y/n.”

You smiled again, the same bitter smile that you had given to him while you were parting two years ago but much less hateful, “Ushijima-san, kindly get the fuck away from me and never try to contact me again. If you show up at my place again I will be forced to take legal 

You straightened your back once again as you walked into your apartment. 

The pain of him doing what he had done still haunted you, after all, can someone ever truly get over being betrayed by the person they trusted the most? But you could happily say that while the pain still existed, it had reduced into a dull throb. 

“Hey babe, who was at the door?” 

You couldn’t help but smile at your boyfriend who had his hair in foils waiting for the dye to set in and a face coated with a green face mask, “Oh it was just Ushijima.”

“Oh okay,” Atsumu turned to go back into the washroom, before his mind processed your words causing him to snap his head at you, “WAIT WHAT?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you walked towards him and pulled him into a soft kiss, trying to ignore the green face mask which had undoubtedly transferred a little onto your own skin, “You’re annoying as hell but I love you so much.”

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special shoutout to @samuthots​ cause i got the prompt list from her and that is what inspired this fic.

@daifwukus​

[kerikaaria]

Hanging by a Thread

(Yoongi x Taehyung) Oneshot, Soulmate!au

Genre: (NC-17) ANGST. BUCKETS OF ANGST. With some fluffy fluff.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption (just some friends hanging out and going to a bar and club, nothing crazy), mentions of past abuse (undetailed and brief), homophobic side character, brief mention of minor character’s death (happened in the past)

WC: 16.3k

Description: Yoongi thinks he is unlovable, and Taehyung doesn’t believe in soulmates. When they meet, Yoongi feels a spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, this person can love him the way he craves. Except, Taehyung only gives Yoongi a single glance before walking away, taking the last piece of his heart with him.

A/N - This fic is submitted for the “Dishonest Love” project for Valentine’s Day 2021 with @thebtswritersclub​ ! It was something that the amazing @eternalseokjin​ had pitched to me months ago when I said I wanted to write something angsty but didn’t know what, and here it is, FINALLY done! It’s also my first official MxM fic, in honor of the great MxM writer who pitched me the idea. Thank you, Dean! <3

Also, I had wanted to get a beta reader for this but.... I literally just finished and am posting it LITERALLY last minute after quickly reading and editing through myself. So if there’s stuff I missed, sorry! I hope it still reads well!

Yoongi walked into the now familiar building, easily directing himself to the third floor as usual. He had been routinely coming here for a few weeks now, and he found himself looking forward to his meetings with Jimin. The building itself was a bit smaller than he had originally expected for an entertainment company, and he remembered needing to stop and take a look around the first time he walked through the front doors. The lobby was rather welcoming, not so monochrome and sleek as many other businesses liked to keep their interiors.

The comfy-looking couches in the seating area were complementary tones of brown and blue, the plants placed nearby looking much more real than the plastic ones found at Yoongi’s workplace. The bit of actual life brought into the lobby just added to the much more welcoming feel here, something Yoongi had really come to appreciate these past weeks. Wall-length windows brought plenty of natural light into the open room, and along with the colorful but tasteful art hanging on the walls, the area emitted a warmth that reached into Yoongi’s bones. Much different from the cold atmosphere he was used to.

He didn’t even need to stop at the reception desk on his way in anymore since the staff easily recognized him. After the first week, he didn’t need to schedule appointments anymore either. He and Jimin would text and arrange their own times when they were available to meet.

Walking into the studio they were using, that now had temporary touches of Yoongi as well since he spent a fair amount of time working there, was more than natural by this point. It even felt more comfortable than his own studio lately.

Jimin smiled lazily at Yoongi. “Hey, Yoongi!”

“Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi responded as he pulled out the couple pieces of equipment he liked to use and always brought with him since they weren’t available here. “I have a demo to share with you today.”

Jimin’s eyes widened in excitement. “Really? Let me hear it!”

Yoongi chuckled. “Let me get set up first, huh?”

The first meeting Yoongi had with Jimin weeks ago went better than he had expected. He seemed to be just about as nice and personable as he acted in public, which was something Yoongi certainly couldn’t say for many of the other artists he worked with. By the end of it, he felt like he had a pretty good understanding of the type of song that Jimin was hoping to sing.

To be honest, Yoongi was surprised his company even agreed to let him meet with Jimin at all. This certainly wasn’t the first time someone from another label had requested a song produced by SUGA, but it was the first that his company approved. Usually they’d instantly refuse the request, wanting to keep Yoongi’s work exclusively for them.

Maybe they felt like Jimin wasn’t enough of a threat to compete with their own artists. But even just from the research Yoongi had done prior to meeting him, listening to his music and watching a few interviews to get an idea of who he’d be working with, he knew better. Jimin might not have been at the top, but he had been steadily gaining popularity since he first debuted a few years ago. He for sure had the talent, not only in singing but also dancing, and with just the right song and publicity he was sure Jimin would become a force to be reckoned with in the industry.

Working with Jimin on this song had been more than a breath of fresh air for Yoongi as well. The label Jimin belonged to didn’t feel the need to dictate every step they took with the song, letting them have the freedom to come up with a song that was a pleasant middle ground between what Yoongi wanted to write and what Jimin wanted to perform. Which surprisingly enough, was much less of a middle ground and more like almost exactly what both of them wanted.

After getting everything set up and pulling up the track that he finished putting together last night, Yoongi pressed play. It was still rather rough, needed finetuning and a more solid melody to go with it, but Yoongi felt like he managed to write something that both of them would be happy with.

The first few demos he made didn’t quite fit the bill, either Jimin not liking it as much as Yoongi wanted him to, Yoongi himself not being completely happy with the outcome, or a combination of both. But this one, he felt was different. He had a feeling this song was going to be it.

A smile quickly spread on Jimin’s face as he listened, giving away that he was indeed pleased with the song. He refrained from commenting until after the last beat had finished, but as soon as it did words flooded from him.

“Wow, that sounds amazing! It’s almost like you looked into my mind and managed to turn exactly what I was hoping for into a reality. I absolutely love it!”

Yoongi tried not to feel embarrassed from the praise as he smiled to himself. “Well, I mean my notebook filled with notes on what you wanted your song to be is pretty much that.” He shrugged. “I just wrote something based on those notes, and based on what I wanted to do.”

“I might be prejudiced,” Jimin said, “but I really think this might even end up being better than all your other songs,” Jimin said, tone light but seeming to only be partially joking. “It just sounds more… I don’t know. More real? Like not as artificial or manufactured.”

When Yoongi stared unmoving at Jimin for a moment, the singer backtracked a bit. “That’s not to say that your songs are bad, or anything! I really love them! It’s why I asked if we could reach out to your company, see if you could write me a song. But, I don’t know. It just sounds different.”

“I agree,” Yoongi admitted, nodding. “Sometimes I don’t even recognize my own work by the time it ends up being released, to be honest.”

Jimin furrowed his brows at him. “What do you mean?”

The elder casually shrugged. “It’s nothing. But if this gets through, I think I’ll be really happy with it.”

Jimin smiled brightly, eyes almost closed from the force of it. “Everyone will love it. I just know it.”

Yoongi was a pretty reserved person, finding very few people who he considered friends. But despite not being nearly as social or chatty as Jimin was, he found himself hoping that even after their song was done and released that they would keep in touch.

During the second week of working together, he had caught himself staring at the string on his finger that was only visible to himself many times. It was almost as if he hoped that it would suddenly connect to the other man in the room. Of course, he couldn’t be that lucky. It didn’t bother him, though. He quickly stopped the habit and was perfectly happy with the friendship that was possibly forming between the two of them.

However, it wasn’t much longer that he had to wait for the string that usually faded out into nothing to finally connect to its other end. In fact, it was later the same day that Yoongi had played the first draft of what they finalized as the new song for Jimin.

Yoongi was on his way back to his apartment when he felt it. A tiny tug on his hand that he barely noticed at first. But just a moment later, there it was again. When he looked down, he could see that it was the thread attached to his finger, the string longer than usual and pulled taut.

His heart sped up at the idea of his soulmate being nearby. After 26 years, he thought he’d never meet them. That he was just doomed to be alone and never feel loved. But his soulmate would love him, wouldn’t they? They had to.

Yoongi followed the string, trying to focus on that single task and not think too hard about who could be on the other end. The red thread was leading him toward a higher end clothing store, growing even longer the closer he got until he was standing just outside of the entrance to the shop.

He took in a deep breath, preparing himself before pulling the glass door open.

Once he was inside, the thread no longer tapered off into nothingness, but instead finished its path. Yoongi carefully followed it until he found the person it was connected to. He slowly took in the figure, feeling all of his breath leave him at once.

On the other end of the string was the most handsome man Yoongi had ever laid his eyes upon, perusing a rack of colorful shirts. Curly dark locks just long enough to fall into his eyes, facial features striking enough for him to be a model, and a gorgeous tan to his skin.

Yoongi was speechless, suddenly unsure of how to approach this man who was made to be his soulmate. He couldn’t help the brief feeling that he looked vaguely familiar, but shrugged it off. He would have certainly known if they met before. Worried that he would come across as a creep just staring at the stranger, he turned around to find something in the store to pretend to contemplate buying—although everything here was more expensive than what he’d usually buy.

As he started walking in the other direction he felt the tug on his hand once more, the string apparently wanting him to keep approaching the man on the other end. Yoongi looked over his shoulder to see if the other had noticed, and he froze when he met the beautiful man’s gaze.

The stranger’s eyes flickered down, clearly looking at the red thread tying them together. He then glanced up once more, again meeting Yoongi’s line of sight, before starting to walk in his direction.

Yoongi opened his mouth as the handsome man approached, ready to introduce himself to his soulmate. But before he could even get a syllable out, the man had walked right past him, opening the door and leaving the store. He didn’t look back even once.

Yoongi could feel the string pulling and tugging, not wanting the two of them to be separate after it had finally connected. The line remained taut, not dimming or fading out for a few moments. But then Yoongi could have sworn he felt it snap as it slackened, the string falling and its connection fading out into nothingness and resuming its usual length on Yoongi’s finger, a little duller than it had been before.

Yoongi stood in the middle of the store, unable to move. He had waited for 26 years to meet his soulmate, the one person in this world that he had hoped would be able to love him, only for him to walk away without a word.

“Sir, if you’re not going to buy anything, would you please leave?” a store associate said, returning Yoongi’s mind to the present.

He bowed in apology before walking out the door, staring wistfully in the direction that his soulmate had left.

Apparently not even fate had the power to make someone love him.

By the time Yoongi downed his third beer, Namjoon was looking worried. But he wasn’t going to ask. That was one of the things Yoongi loved about his best friend. He could read him like an open book, but also knew that if there was something to talk about he would come to it in his own time. Namjoon didn’t push or pressure him to talk before he was ready, just waited for him to be.

When Yoongi had knocked on Namjoon’s door with an abundance of beer and chicken wings, the latter already knew that something was up and his friend needed company. His understanding wife called her own friends to arrange a night out and let the men have the house to themselves. She was also Yoongi’s friend, but she knew this was something that only Joon could help with.

It wasn’t until the fifth beer that Yoongi had enough liquid courage in him to tell Namjoon what was on his mind. Gripping the half-empty bottle, he muttered out the words he never thought would end up being as solemn as they were.

“I met my soulmate.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he took a good look at the elder. “Seriously?” Answered with a single nod, he only became more confused. “So what’s wrong?” he carefully asked. “I figured when that happened we’d be drinking to celebrate, but you’re not exactly in a celebratory mood.”

Yoongi took in a deep breath in preparation for the next words he would mutter. “He took one look at me and walked away. Didn’t even say a word.”

The look on Namjoon’s face fell into solemn understanding. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, that… That explains it.”

“Am I that disgusting?” Yoongi asked, looking up at the other earnestly. “Am I that ugly? That undesirable? Just one look, and he hated me already.”

“I highly doubt that, Yoongs,” Namjoon said. “First off, you’re not ugly. You’re actually very good looking, and not at all disgusting. But to hate someone just by looking at them without knowing anything about them? Impossible. Are you sure he saw you?”

“He looked me right in the eyes, Joon,” Yoongi said exasperatedly, harshly setting his bottle down on the table. “Looked me in the eyes, looked back at our string, then walked right past me and out the door.”

Namjoon chewed on his bottom lip in thought. He was going to try to rationalize, just like his smart brain always did. Always trying to think logically before emotionally. “Maybe he had never been interested in men before,” he suggested. “It may have been a shock to him to see that his soulmate was a man.”

“I don’t know. He didn’t look shocked or confused or anything. He had the most blank expression on his face. Like he just didn’t care.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it, looking away. But Yoongi had a pretty good idea what he was thinking. That maybe he was one of those people who didn’t care about soulmates. It wasn’t very common, but not unheard of. Maybe that was him, maybe he was already in a relationship. But did he have to just ignore Yoongi, though?

“But did he have to just ignore me, though?” Yoongi voiced his last thought. “He could have said something, at least.”

Shrugging, Namjoon took a swig from his second bottle. “It would have been nice of him to, definitely. I’m sorry man, I really don’t know what to say other than whether it’s your soulmate or not, you’ll find someone for you.”

“Yeah, the odds aren’t looking too good for that,” Yoongi scoffed before chugging almost the rest of his bottle.

“I’ve already said it so many times, but I’ll say it again,” Namjoon said, honest and strong gaze fixated on his friend. “You’re worth love, Yoongi. Regardless of how others have treated you in the past. They don’t matter. And if this soulmate of yours really doesn’t want to even give you a chance, then he doesn’t either. You’re worthy of being loved, deserve to be loved. The right person will come around eventually.”

Yoongi wanted to argue, but he knew he wouldn’t win. When it came to this topic, Namjoon would always have the last word, refusing to let Yoongi believe anything else. Every time he had been hurt, whether it was by yet another person who found his sexuality disgusting or someone who told him all the right words only to break his heart in the end, Namjoon was always there. He always gave him the ‘you’re not worthless’ speech. While Yoongi was heavily inclined to not believe it, it had always been enough to at least keep him going.

The two fell back into silence—not uncomfortable, but still heavy with the weight of Yoongi’s heart. It didn’t matter if no more words were exchanged until they decided they were done drinking and went to sleep. Yoongi would fall asleep next to his best friend, at least comforted by the fact that even if he never found someone who would love him the way he craved, he had someone who did love him in some way and would never leave him alone.

One of the benefits of Yoongi’s personality that he’d realized years ago was that when he was upset about something, the average person was none the wiser. A storm could be brewing in his mind, but because his expression was blank and his eyes had a hardened look to them during even a normal day, no one would have any idea. Well, except for Namjoon.

It meant that he didn’t have people constantly asking him what was wrong. Which he was extremely thankful for when he saw Jimin again two days later, the singer coming to visit Yoongi at his own studio this time. It was possible he took notice that Yoongi was a tad less talkative than normal, but if he did notice anything at all he just shrugged it off easily.

“Do you not like decorating?” Jimin asked after they finished working on the song for the day.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked, eyebrows raised.

“I noticed that you don’t really have much of a… personal touch to your studio,” Jimin shrugged.

“Not allowed,” Yoongi mumbled in response as he shut down the computer.

“You’re not allowed to decorate? Not at all?”

“Nope. The studio belongs to the company, not me. I just use it.”

“Huh.” Jimin seemed genuinely confused at the concept. “But like, people who have office jobs are allowed to decorate their spaces. They have pictures at their cubicles, or if they have a room to themselves they can arrange it how they want, can’t they?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know. It’s not like the studio we’re using at your company is decorated with your stuff.”

“Yeah, but we’re just borrowing it,” Jimin countered. “After we’re done with the song, someone else will use it. Whenever I visit the producers at our company, their studios are always decorated. Each one looks different, unique to them.”

“I don’t really care either way,” Yoongi said. “It’s just a room.”

The younger’s face scrunched up a bit, deep in thought for a moment. “It just feels like you don’t have much freedom here,” he carefully said after a moment.

“Comes with the territory, I guess,” Yoongi said. “I work for my boss, not myself. He decides what is good and what isn’t.”

“But the tracks you showed me earlier, they sounded so much better than the versions that were released. They were amazing.”

Earlier when they were a bit dry on ideas for the song, Jimin had been curious about demos of some of Yoongi’s other music, and so the producer had decided to play a few samples for him. Yoongi absolutely agreed with Jimin, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t up to him what was good or not.

“Our company doesn’t do that,” Jimin mumbled, almost too quiet for Yoongi to hear.

But he did. “Do what?” he asked for clarification.

“I mean, it’s not like they don’t ask for revisions on songs if they need some work still,” the singer said. “But our producers have a lot more freedom than it seems like you do here. They’re happy with the versions of their songs that get released. I just wish you could be, too. Your music is absolutely amazing and it deserves to be heard the way you want it to be.”

Unsure of what to say, Yoongi stared at the other, blinking. Eventually, when his mind caught up he said, “Well, nothing I can really do about that at this point.”

Jimin frowned, knowing that he was right. “Well, I’m positive my company is going to love this song we’re releasing,” he attempted to lighten the mood a bit.

“I hope so,” Yoongi said. “I haven’t enjoyed writing a song this much in a long time.”

“Well, I’m honored that it’s a song for me, then,” Jimin said, a smile back on his face. “And I hope that it’s just the start of you enjoying it again.”

Butterflies flying into his chest at Jimin’s kind words, Yoongi found himself glancing at the thread on his finger once again. He already met his soulmate, he knew it wasn’t Jimin. But he couldn’t help but wonder if only.

His expression must have become more readable than usual because it was only a few short moments later when Jimin asked, “Yoongi? Are you alright?”

It took Yoongi a moment to look back up at Jimin. “Have you met your soulmate, Jimin?” he blurted out.

The singer seemed surprised at the sudden question. “My- my soulmate?” His expression changed to the saddest Yoongi had seen him yet. “Well, yeah, I met her. I met her a long time ago. But we’re not together. Why do you ask?”

Yoongi couldn’t help being curious about why that was. But, he realized asking about Jimin’s soulmate was already treading dangerously into overstepping and it wouldn’t be appropriate to keep prodding. “No reason,” he shrugged. “I was just curious. Sorry.”

Jimin’s smile returned. “It’s alright. It’s natural to be curious, I guess. I’m a bit strange for not being with my soulmate, huh?”

“No,” Yoongi immediately responded. “I don’t think you’re strange at all.”

“What about you?” Jimin asked, somewhat hesitantly. “If you feel like sharing.”

Yoongi stared at his string one more time. “I ran into them once in a store,” he said, being careful not to specify gender. “But no, I haven’t properly met them.”

Nodding, Jimin seemed to understand that Yoongi also had left something unsaid but didn’t pry. “Well, whoever they are, they are a very lucky person to be your soulmate.” He was smiling, but the expression on his face was one that Yoongi couldn’t quite read.

The song was an absolute hit. So much so, that Yoongi’s boss seemed incredibly surprised. If he had presented a song like this to his boss, he would have been told to make a ton of changes before it hit the masses. He’d be told it wasn’t good enough, not perfect enough.

However, this song blew up so much faster and stronger than any songs that Jimin released before, and even more than any other song yet produced by SUGA. The love for the track made Yoongi happy, not just because his song that he was really happy with and proud of was getting love, but also because of how much it made his boss question everything he knew.

Barely even a week after the song’s release, Yoongi received a call from the company Jimin worked under. At first, he assumed that maybe it was an effort to try to get more collaborations with him, maybe a short-term contract. But much to his surprise, they were offering for him to work with them permanently.

To say that he was floored would be an understatement.

Switching companies like that was not easy. Especially since Yoongi knew how hard his current company would try to hold onto him, knowing that they’d be losing one of their best and most popular producers. Even if he had somewhere else to go, there were clauses in the contracts that made it difficult for one to just move from company to company. By offering Yoongi the job there, they were also promising to spend the time and money to handle the technicalities in order to ensure his successful transfer.

Shellshocked from the unexpected phone call, Yoongi could only muster a promise that he’d consider the offer before the call ended. It took a few good minutes, but once he was able to gather the remnants of his brain together, he pressed the call button on Jimin’s contact.

“Hey, Yoongi!” the ever-so cheery singer answered. “What’s up?”

“Park Jimin, what did you do?” Yoongi asked, no venom to be found in his voice.

There was silence for a moment while Jimin seemed to think about the question. “What do you mean, what did I do?”

“I mean, why did I just get a call from your company offering to hire me?”

“Oh, that,” Jimin breathed out through a nervous laugh. “Well, I didn’t know they were going to actually call you, for the record. Although, I really am glad that they did. I mean, you really des-”

“Jimin.”

Jimin cleared his throat. “I just asked them if they liked you, and what it would look like if they signed you on as a producer for us. I guess they started thinking about it and decided they wanted to.”

“Why did you do that?”

“You know why. That place doesn’t treat you how they should. You could have so much more freedom here, Yoongi.” After a few moments of silence, Jimin added, “Plus, I really enjoyed working with you. I was kind of hoping that we might be able to write some more songs together in the future.” Another silence. “You’re not mad, are you?” Jimin asked in a small voice.

“No, I’m not mad,” Yoongi replied. “I’m just shocked, is all.”

“Do you know how you’re going to respond?”

Yoongi sighed into the phone. “I’m not sure. I’d have to talk with them and figure out what working there would mean, make sure it’s worth the effort battling my current company to let me leave.”

“Well, let me know when you decide?”

“Yeah, sure.”

It didn’t take long for Yoongi to decide. After asking for more information on the offer, there was no way he would refuse the deal. Not only would he have proper rights to his music—still shared of course, but actually a reasonable percentage compared to what he was currently getting—but he’d also get a higher percentage of royalties. Like Jimin had mentioned, he would get his own studio that he was allowed to decorate and even refurbish, within reason of course. All of that, on top of the experience he’d already had with them not forcing him to change his songs entirely, made the choice a no-brainer.

Apparently, they were already prepared for him to say yes to the offer, quickly going in to get his contract with the current company terminated as swiftly and easily as possible. There was of course still pushback, but it could have been much more difficult if Yoongi’s original employer had been more prepared for it.

That still didn’t stop his boss—ex-boss, rather—from repeatedly asking Yoongi to stay, trying to convince him that he’d give him a better deal. Out of curiosity, Yoongi had humored the idea just to see what he’d come up with. But when the man showed him the new contract he had written up, Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh at it. It wasn’t even close to being as good as what Jimin’s company had offered, and he certainly wasn’t going to be hanging around there either way.

The day the transfer was official, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel excited to go to work for the first time in a long time, other than the days when he got to work on Jimin’s song at least. He already had everything prepared to put into his new studio, equipment he already knew they wouldn’t have there that he preferred, and just a few simple things to start making the space his own.

His spent the first hour or so of the day arranging everything the way he wanted, placing equipment where he could work efficiently, and finding places the his small trinkets he wanted to try decorating with. Afterwards, he texted Jimin to see if he was at the office, wanting to show him his studio. Yeah, it wasn’t really much quite yet, but it was his own space. And he knew Jimin was going to be just as excited as he felt.

Jimin’s quick reply let Yoongi know that he was currently in one of the dance practice rooms, and he insisted Yoongi stopped by.

After taking the elevator one floor down, he could hear laughter coming from the room where he knew Jimin to be. Jimin’s recognizable tinkling laughter was accompanied by an airy, deeper one. It was only one short moment later when he felt a pull on his hand. Furrowing his eyebrows, he glanced down to see that once again, the string attached to his ring finger extended farther and was clearly reaching out to the other end.

Sight following the line, Yoongi’s heart raced when he realized it led into the room where Jimin’s laughter could be heard. Without thinking, his footsteps became more rushed as he neared the door, quickly pushing it open and looking for its occupants.

“Yoongi!” Jimin greeted just as Yoongi’s eyes found them. Sure enough, sitting next to him was the dark-haired man that Yoongi had met in the store that day—his soulmate. “Come meet my best friend!”

Yoongi tried to not let the storm going on inside his head to show in his expression as he approached the two.

“This is Kim Taehyung,” Jimin introduced the mystery man. “Tae, this is Yoongi. Better known as SUGA.”

“Ah, Jimin has been talking a lot about you,” the other man, Taehyung said, no hint of embarrassment or apology for their last encounter in his tone. His voice was deep and rich and sent an involuntary shiver down Yoongi’s spine. “It’s nice to meet you.” A hand, the hand which their string attached to, reached out toward Yoongi.

Hesitantly, Yoongi grabbed it, gently shaking it once. “Nice to meet you too, Taehyung.”

Jimin was incredibly persistent, and it was a problem. Because that meant that it was impossible to ignore Jimin's pleads for Yoongi to go out to a bar with not only him, but Taehyung as well. He said something about wanting two of his favorite people to get along, or something along those lines.

So there he was, sitting in a booth next to Taehyung—under Jimin's insistence again—and feeling stupidly nervous about being in such close proximity to his soulmate. While Taehyung hadn't made any active effort to speak with Yoongi outside of the social obligation to generally not be rude, or to please Jimin when he encouraged the two to interact more, he wasn't acting like anything had ever happened between the two of them before.

This was the same man who walked out of the store to get away from Yoongi. Who saw they were connected by this string and still felt the need to completely ignore him. But he genuinely acted like this was the first time they met, and he most certainly seemed to be intentionally ignoring the fact that they were soulmates.

"Everything okay, Yoongi?" Jimin asked when he hadn’t spoken for a while.

"Hm? Yeah, I'm okay," Yoongi said. "Why?"

"You just, have that look," Jimin answered. “Like you’re deep in thought about something.”

Yoongi’s not sure if he imagined seeing Taehyung glance at him from the corner of his eye. “Ah, sorry. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

A slightly worried look sat on Jimin’s face, obviously unconvinced. However, he seemed to think it best to move on, a smile soon lighting up his features. “So, you haven’t told me how your old boss took your transfer to our company.”

With a light laugh, Yoongi’s face loosened up as well. “It was funny. He tried telling me that he’d offer me a better contract if I was unhappy with the one he had given me. But it was still terrible, definitely not as good as what they offered me. He was trying so desperately to keep me.”

“Yeah, they’re no doubt going to lose money without you,” Jimin said. “Their loss. If they wanted to keep you, they should have treated you better. Your songs are amazing. Right, Tae? We’re always listening to songs you’ve written.”

Yoongi glanced between the two, trying not to linger too long on Taehyung’s undeniably gorgeous face. “Really?”

It was Taehyung who nodded. “Yeah, your music is really great. Some of my favorite songs were written by you.” Yoongi tried to hold in his surprise when Taehyung turned to him and gave him what seemed to be a shy smile.

His heart still felt like it skipped a beat, though.

“Thank you,” Yoongi answered, a small smile of his own returning Taehyung’s before taking a sip of his drink.

“Although, I still have to say that your new song is by far your best,” Jimin said smugly.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “You’re biased.”

“Am I wrong though?” Jimin challenged.

Taehyung was quiet for a moment before he ultimately just shrugged.

A short, not so uncomfortable silence sat between the three. Yoongi still couldn’t forget that first encounter he had with Taehyung, and was trying his best to not look at his left hand. However, it was slowly getting more comfortable with him thanks to Jimin. He made a mental note for himself to definitely try to talk to Taehyung later about what happened that day.

“So, how did you two meet?” Yoongi decided to ask to keep conversation going.

“I transferred to a new school when I was… what? Twelve?” Taehyung started. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Jimin was the first friend I made there.”

Jimin nodded. “And we’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s my soulmate.”

Yoongi’s brow furrowed in confusion, glancing subtly at his string, which most certainly was connecting to the man sitting beside him.

“Not literal soulmate,” Taehyung nonchalantly clarified. “We call each other that because we were basically just destined to be best friends.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jimin laughed. “I’ve definitely caused a few misunderstandings with that one. I sometimes forget other people still have soulmates.”

Now Yoongi was even more confused. “Still?”

Recognizing what he said, Jimin’s eyes widened before he put a smile on his face, looking somewhat forced. “Oops. I’ll tell you some other time. Don’t want to sour the mood. Anyway, when Taehyung was scouted by our company I was so excited that we’d be able to work close together. It was like a dream come true.”

“You’re signed under the company, too?” Yoongi asked the dark-haired man next to him.

Taehyung nodded. “Yeah. I know I’m not like super famous, but most people recognize me. You don’t?”

Unsure if he should feel embarrassed about the fact that he had no idea what Taehyung was talking about, Yoongi didn’t say anything as he looked between the other two.

“Oh, really?” Jimin finally said, giving Yoongi some relief. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know, sorry. Tae is a model.”

The mentioned man already had a picture pulled up on his phone to show Yoongi. It was obviously from a photoshoot, the image expertly taken to show off all the perfect angles of Taehyung’s face. Now it made sense why he felt like he had recognized him when they first ran into each other. Thinking about it, it wasn’t so surprising. The man really was strikingly handsome.

“Oh, that- that actually makes a lot of sense,” Yoongi said before he could stop himself.

“I know, right?” Jimin cheered from across the table. “It’s like he was made to be a model. He’s absolutely gorgeous. Don’t you think so, Yoongi?”

Yoongi spluttered for a moment, caught off guard by the question being directed toward him. As he felt heat rise to his cheeks, he settled on nodding in agreement. He couldn’t help but think about how that meant he’d probably end up running into Taehyung a lot, then. There was a high chance they’d see each other frequently at the company, and even outside of it if Jimin kept insisting on having them hang out together. Maybe it was a chance to get to know each other, maybe Taehyung could warm up to him and consider giving him a shot.

It was interesting to see a contrast between the two best friends in their drinking behavior. An hour later, Jimin was most certainly well past the point of tipsy, while Taehyung was still sipping on water. Yoongi himself had a few beers, but not anywhere enough to get more than a light buzz.

“Not much of a drinker?” Yoongi tried to make light small talk with Taehyung when Jimin left to go to the bathroom, not for the first time that night.

“Nah,” Taehyung said. “Don’t really like the taste at all. I can tolerate some wine, but that’s about it. Jimin loves it though. Obviously,” he chuckled.

Yoongi just nodded, taking another small sip from his cup.

“Did you say anything to him about this?” Taehyung asked, lifting up his left hand where the red string hang from to connect to Yoongi’s.

“No,” Yoongi replied honestly. “I had mentioned that I ran into my soulmate, but I didn’t know who you were at the time, and I didn’t tell him anything else. Just that we ran into each other once. Did you?”

Taehyung shook his head. “We don’t talk about things like soulmates. Not a great topic for us.” He took in a deep breath. “I want to apologize for that day, though.”

Yoongi’s head snapped to look at him, surprised at the sudden apology.

“I’ve never had much interest in the whole soulmate thing,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t rude. I had had a pretty bad day, not that it excuses my behavior. I just didn’t think. I’m sure you have questions, since I know most people care about this string. I’m not comfortable sharing my life story with you yet or anything like that. But you seem like a nice guy, and Jimin wants us to be friends. I wanted to clear that up so that we can try to be friends. If you wanted.”

“Yes,” Yoongi responded, quickly feeling embarrassed of how fast he did. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’d like to be friends. And thank you for that apology.”

The two shared a smile, but didn’t get to say anything else when Jimin came fumbling back to the table and started animatedly talking about some girl that he was sure had been checking him out.

Maybe Taehyung wouldn’t end up being so bad afterall.

This was not going as well as Yoongi had hoped.

It wasn’t that he and Taehyung weren’t getting along well. In fact, they were getting along perfectly fine. Most of the time when Jimin asked Yoongi to hang out, or when one of them would visit the other at the company, Taehyung was there. The more time Yoongi spent with Taehyung, the more he liked the man.

Half of the time, Yoongi would even forget about the fact this handsome, charming, warm-hearted person was his soulmate. He’d just be hanging out with Taehyung. Yoongi felt as though he had been doomed from their first conversation. That as soon as things were friendly between the two of them, it became inevitable for him to be sucked in deeper and deeper, for him to slowly fall for the man.

Okay, maybe not that slowly. It had only been about a month or so, but Yoongi could already tell he was in too deep with no way out. Hence why things were not going well.

Taehyung made no indication to having any interest in Yoongi other than just being friends. He was hands down a great friend and there was nothing wrong with that. But when Yoongi could feel himself longing for Taehyung more and more each day as he saw the string connecting them slowly become duller, things were obviously not okay.

The thing with soulmates was that they weren’t set in stone. No one quite knew how people ended up tied together by some intangible string that only you and your soulmate could see.  There were many theories, mostly spiritual, on the topic but no one had figured it out for sure. However, there was a substantial amount of research put into the topic to decipher as much as humans could about them. One thing that was clear was how the string read emotions. Just because you had become tied to someone didn’t mean you always would be. If there was emotional distance, betrayed trust, or anything else that would drive a couple apart emotionally, the string would reflect that by disappearing. Sometimes slowly, sometimes as fast as a snap of the fingers, depending on each situation.

Every day that Yoongi’s feelings grew stronger for Taehyung, the string faded a little more, becoming more and more transparent. Which meant that while Yoongi had the emotions and felt the connection with him, Taehyung didn’t. Even though Yoongi didn’t know Taehyung’s story of why he didn’t care about soulmates, one thing was made very obvious to him—that Taehyung valued honest, emotional connections more than anything. Yoongi had hoped that as they became closer, maybe Taehyung would start to warm up to him and want to give him a genuine chance, soulmate or not.

Yoongi was, as always, stupidly hopeful.

It was a night where Jimin visited Yoongi at his studio, now much more decorated to reflect his likes and personality when the topic of soulmates was brought up once again.

“You’re staring at your string, aren’t you?” Jimin asked quietly after he had just been gushing his growing crush on his choreographer, which Yoongi had only been paying half of his attention to.

Yoongi looked up from where he had indeed been staring at his left ring finger, apologetically smiling at Jimin. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

The younger remained quiet for a moment before asking, “Have you met them again? Your soulmate.”

Heart clenching, Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, we’ve met properly.”

Another silence sat while Jimin examined Yoongi’s face. He was annoyingly becoming rather good at reading his poker face. “It’s not going well, I take it?”

Yoongi shrugged. “Debatable. It’s going fine, I guess. Just- not where I wish it was going.”

Jimin nodded, taking a moment to stare at his own finger where his string would have been. “It’s been a long time since I had my string,” he said quietly.

It was Yoongi’s turn to examine Jimin’s face, finding a wistful expression as he sighed.

“I met her in high school,” Jimin said, lifting his gaze to Yoongi to check if he seemed okay with the subject change. When Yoongi nodded in encouragement, Jimin continued. “Like the stupid kid I was, I put blind faith into the fact that some red string told us we were supposed to be together. It was fine at first, she was sweet and we had a good time together. I don’t know now if I was legitimately in love with her, or if I just felt like I was supposed to be. But either way, it still hurt more than I could have imagined when I found out she was cheating on me.”

Yoongi’s heart clenched in empathy for Jimin but didn’t have anything he could say. He could understand exactly how that must have felt for young Jimin, having had his fair share of people using and hurting him, but this conversation wasn’t about him.

“You’re forgetting to mention about how she started treating you like shit even before that,” an unmistakable, deep voice came from the entrance to the studio. Taehyung fully entered the room, sitting next to Jimin on the couch and pulling him into his side. “She would insult him in front of friends, convince him to do ridiculous things for her all the time, just generally treated him like he was lower than her and should be lucky she was with him.”

“She wasn’t that bad,” Jimin quietly defended.

“Yes, she was,” Taehyung insisted. “She broke you down and tore you apart before she even decided to cheat on you with that sleazebag. You said your string was already gone by that time.”

Jimin relented, sighing as he lay his head on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’m just lucky I had Taetae. I don’t know what I would have done without him holding me up.”

Yoongi observed the two of them, Jimin still looking sad as he relived the memories in his mind and Taehyung holding onto him, almost protectively with a hard look on his face. It started to become more clear to Yoongi as to why Taehyung might not care about soulmate connections.

“Some people are assholes,” Yoongi settled on saying. “I’m really sorry that happened to you, Jimin.”

Jimin lifted his head, offering Yoongi a smile that brightened his expression a bit. “It was years ago, I’m okay now. And it doesn’t mean I can’t find someone. Same with you. If things don’t end up working between you and your soulmate, you know that doesn’t mean that you won’t find someone for you, right?”

Yoongi tensed up, trying his best not to look at Taehyung at the mention of his soulmate. Instead, he stared at his left hand, the string extending past his vision toward Taehyung as usual. “Thanks, Jimin,” he answered, not wanting to say anything else.

“Anyway, we’re all here now,” Jimin said. “So let’s go!”

“Go?” Yoongi asked. “Go where?”

“It’s the weekend, Tae and I don’t have any schedules tomorrow, and you have been slaving away at that computer all week,” Jimin said, as if that answered the question.

Taehyung chuckled when Yoongi just stared blankly at the singer for a long moment. “He means we’re going out. To a bar or club, or whatever he feels like doing.”

“Why am I included in this?” Yoongi grumbled.

“Because I said so,” Jimin answered. “You need to get out more.”

“I’m good with my music and dark rooms, thanks,” Yoongi insisted.

“I don’t know why you bother fighting this every time,” Taehyung said with a smile on his face. “You know he’s always going to win. Just gotta learn to go along with it.”

“Yes, precisely,” Jimin said, grabbing Yoongi’s arm to pull him out of his chair. “Now come on. Let’s go!”

Jimin was feeling up for a club today, apparently. Yoongi was most definitely not dressed appropriately for one, not that he had anything in his closet that would be, but Jimin and Taehyung were by far well-dressed and good-looking enough to get all three of them in.

It still surprised Yoongi that whenever they’d go out, no one really paid much attention to Jimin and Taehyung. They were both well-known and steadily getting more popular every day, yet they were left alone and unbothered when they were so out in the open. Yoongi couldn’t figure out how they did it, but he assumed that it might have had something to do with the fact that every place Jimin picked out looked higher-end than the bars Namjoon would drag him out to.

The three had barely ordered their first drinks before the first woman approached them. Yoongi paid no attention, subtly turning away from her to stay out of it. Every time this happened, they always had their eyes set on either Jimin or Taehyung—and they weren’t exactly Yoongi’s type anyway. And if it were Taehyung she had her eyes set on, it was better for him to not watch.

To his complete surprise, he felt a tap on his shoulder just a moment later. “Excuse me,” a light voice said.

Yoongi carefully turned back to face the woman, trying his best to keep his face as emotionless as usual despite how shocked he was feeling. “Yes? Do you- can I help you?”

From behind her, he could see Jimin and Taehyung both watching the interaction with rapt attention, amusement on their faces.

“I was about to dance, but I don’t want to go alone,” she pouted. “Would you come with me?” Objectively, this woman was rather beautiful. She was clearly skilled with her makeup, accentuating the soft angles of her face really well. The bold purple dress she wore was club appropriate, showing off a fair amount of skin, but also had a more classy look to it to make her stand out among the other girls in the crowd and it hugged the shape of her body really well.

“Sorry,” Yoongi replied, “I don’t really dance. My friends dragged me here.” He nodded in the direction of the two, certainly much more handsome men behind her in hopes she’d maybe pay them some attention instead.

She looked disappointed, but didn’t push, seeming to sense a rejection when she heard one. “Alright. Well, if you change your mind, feel free to find me.” Her gaze very obviously dragged up and down his body before walking away with a very intentional sway of her hips. If Yoongi were interested in women, he was sure his gaze would linger on the action, but instead he just turned to look at his still amused friends.

“You’re not going to get anyone interested in you that way,” Jimin teased.

“I don’t want anyone interested in me,” he rebutted quickly, being extra mindful to not glance at Taehyung. “I’m not even dressed well, either. Don’t know why she decided to hit on me.”

“Have you ever looked in a mirror?” Jimin asked. “You don’t need the right clothes when your face is that gorgeous.”

“She was pretty hot, though,” Taehyung said, not-so-discretely looking in the direction she had left in. “Wouldn’t have hurt to indulge her a bit.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Not my type.”

There was a time Yoongi would have been cautious about saying anything that could have even subtly hinted at who exactly his ‘type’ was. But after a while he realized that if someone were to judge or dislike him for it, then they didn’t deserve his trust anyway. He didn’t know what Jimin’s stance was and assumed that Taehyung probably at least didn’t have an issue with it since he never appeared repulsed by the fact they were soulmates, despite also not seeming to care much about it. He figured if they were going to figure out what he meant by that, this couldn’t have been the worst time for them to.

Jimin certainly seemed to be in thought after that, carefully scanning the crowd until he apparently found someone of interest. “What about him, then?” he asked completely nonchalantly, bringing Yoongi’s attention to a very handsome man.

From this distance with the dark lights, he couldn’t trust that he was seeing everything fully accurately. However what Yoongi did see was someone whose looks almost seemed to rival Jimin and Taehyung’s. A sharp jaw line, swept back brown hair and soft eyes, and he most certainly seemed to know what he was doing on the dance floor.

After taking the moment to appraise him, Yoongi gave a slight nod. “He’s definitely really attractive, at least from here.” He took a sip from his beer as he waited for one of them to say something more. When they remained quiet for a moment, he decided to ask, “It doesn’t bother you?”

Jimin smiled, shaking his head. “Of course not. I’d be lying if I said that he wasn’t my type as well. My choreographer is a guy, too. What do you think, Tae? He’s a cutie, wouldn’t you say?”

Taehyung’s gaze narrowed as he assessed the stranger. “Yeah, he’s definitely cute. Looks pretty young, though. You know I like it when they’re older, especially men.”

Jimin’s head threw back with laughter. “That’s true.”

Yoongi tried not to be too obvious about how relieved he was to find that out, hiding his smile behind the cup when he took another sip.

Ten minutes later found Jimin on the dance floor, a few shots in already, dancing with the man he picked out earlier while Yoongi and Taehyung hung back at the bar. During the few times that Yoongi had gone out like this with them, it wasn’t a common thing for Jimin or Taehyung to indulge someone else for very long. He’d seen Jimin dance with women on an occasion or two, and Taehyung would have short chats with people who were interested in him. Although that was the first time he saw either of them approach someone themselves. He wondered briefly if this might be the first night they might not all leave together.

“Don’t want anyone to be interested in you, huh?” Taehyung asked after long moments of a comfortable lull in conversation, filled only with the sounds of the club.

“Nope,” Yoongi replied, pulling his eyes away from where Jimin was dancing incredibly close to the stranger. “In places like this, people are usually just looking for a hook-up. I’m not really a hook-up kind of guy.”

Taehyung nodded. “Same,” he said, swirling his glass sitting on the bar. “Although, I find it fun to indulge. Chat a bit, see what they’re like. But if they seem to only be interested in who’s house we’re going to after, that’s the end of that for me.”

“What about Jimin? It kind of looks like he’s interested in not going home alone tonight.”

Shaking his head, Taehyung’s mouth turned down into a stupidly cute pout. “Nah, he’s too much of a romantic. He’s probably going to go home with the guy’s number, though. Jimin has a weird habit of making friends with the people he flirts with. Why? Are you jealous?”

“No, not jealous,” Yoongi replied easily. There may have been a time where he wondered if he could have had a thing with Jimin, but he was far too gone for Taehyung to even remotely consider that now. “Just don’t want him to get hurt.”

“You and me both. But he’s smarter, now. I don’t think he’d let another Miyoung into his life.”

Yoongi assumed that was the name of the ex-soulmate they talked about earlier. There was another pause in the conversation, this time heavy from the thoughtful expression Taehyung wore.

“It happens too often, you know. Not even just with teenagers. People in any stage of their life blindly trust this thing.” He was clearly looking at where their string attached itself to his left ring finger. “They assume that the person on the other end is going to be loving and compassionate, and there’s no way they wouldn’t work out. It’s so stupid.”

That felt like a stab to Yoongi’s chest. “Maybe some people just don’t have anyone else who can love them.”

“I’m sorry, that sounded harsh,” Taehyung backtracked. “I didn’t mean that about you, it’s just a general observation. Everyone in this world has a string connected to them at some point. But not everyone in the world is a good person. People who are assholes, abusers, criminals, killers, they all have a soulmate. But so many people assume that the person they’re attached to is just going to be amazing when it’s actually not often the case. Did you know there are some really interesting statistics around divorce rates?”

“Oh?” Yoongi asked, genuinely interested. He had never thought about that before, but Taehyung was really making a lot of sense so far and he was curious of what he had to say.

“Among divorcees if you divide the couples into who were soulmates when they met and who weren’t, there’s a much higher percentage of soulmate couples. It was somewhere around 70% soulmates last time I looked. It makes sense in one way because that’s also the majority of people who end up getting married. But when you hear their stories, almost all of them are the same. It’s some version of how they put faith into the string and rushed their relationship without properly developing a connection, and then they found out too late that they weren’t actually compatible. Or worse, that one of them was abusive in some way, overly possessive, or anything else from a list of red flags you’d usually find out during a relationship where you would have gotten to know them properly without a silly string telling you they were ‘the one.’ Non-soulmate couples who have talked about their stories tend to boil it down to other things, like growing apart over time, their partner cheating or becoming a ‘different person’ than they used to be. Rarely anything about rushing into something blindly.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Yoongi said after waiting a moment to make sure Taehyung was done explaining. “I realized earlier that what happened with Jimin might have had something to do with our first meeting.”

Taehyung cringed. “Yeah, I’m still sorry about that. But yes, he’s one reason. He’s not the only person I care about who’s been burned by their soulmate though.” He stared into his drink, a distant look in his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yoongi caught sight of Jimin walking back to them with the mystery guy he had been dancing with being dragged behind him.

“Guys, say hi to Jungkook!” Jimin excitedly said as he approached.

It was almost scary how abruptly Taehyung’s expression changed as he turned to his best friend in amusement. “I was just telling Yoongi that you have a habit of making friends by flirting with them. Nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m Taehyung.”

“I mean that turned out amazing for us, didn’t it?” Jimin said through a laugh.

Jungkook turned out to be a really sweet guy, and the four of them spent the rest of their night just chatting at the bar. Well, mostly Jimin and Taehyung were the ones chatting. Jungkook seemed to be more reserved like Yoongi, so the two mostly just responded when asked a question or being dragged into the current topic.

“You know,” Jimin slurred when he had already gotten well past the point of being drunk, a wobbly finger pointing at Yoongi, “that soulmate of yours must be really dumb.”

Yoongi quickly glanced at Taehyung to see him looking uncomfortable. Tensing up, Yoongi cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, I would,” Jimin insisted. “Whoever he is, he should be thankful that he gets to be your soulmate. You are amazing.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi sighed. “Maybe he has his reasons.”

“But it’s not fair.” The pout was obvious in his voice despite Yoongi not being able to see it due to the man now draping himself over Yoongi’s back. “You said you weren’t happy with how things were going between you two. I don’t like that he’s making you upset.”

Yoongi closed his eyes as he took a steadying breath, not wanting to see Taehyung’s reaction. He already knew the model wasn’t interested and didn’t want to feel that sting of rejection right now. “We should get you home,” Yoongi said to change the subject. “You’re really drunk.”

“I’ll pull the car around,” Taehyung said, seeming really eager to walk away.

Jimin continued to whine, sniffles interrupting here and there while he kept saying how it wasn’t fair and he wanted Yoongi to be happy. While Yoongi’s heart clenched with appreciation for his friend’s concern, he didn’t want to feed into the conversation again.

Hurried knocks on Yoongi’s studio door cut through the track that Yoongi was currently editing. Finding a spot he felt comfortable to stop at, he answered the door to a very smiling and excited Jimin throwing his arms around him.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it, Yoongi!” the now pink-haired singer yelled a little too loud for being right next to Yoongi’s ear.

“Can’t believe what, Jimin?” Yoongi asked as he gently pushed the man back a bit.

Jimin raised his left hand in between them as if that would answer Yoongi’s question. “I have a new soulmate!”

Well, that was unexpected. Confused and surprised, Yoongi tilted his head as he tried to figure that one out. “What do you mean you have a new soulmate? That’s possible?”

“Yeah! It was something I looked into years ago when I was upset about losing mine,” Jimin elaborated. “It’s actually more common than you’d expect. Soulmates drifting apart or separating, whatever causes the string to disappear. But it’s possible to find a new one later. I always hoped it would happen to me but I had no idea how it would. Like, would it happen when I met them, or if I started feeling something for someone?”

“So how did your string appear?” Yoongi asked through his amazement of the new information.

A blush settled on Jimin’s cheeks, looking suddenly shy as he said, “We kissed.”

Jimin was certainly full of surprises today. “Oh, well that’s… good, I guess. Who is it?”

“Hoseok,” Jimin said with a smile. “My choreographer that I’ve been gushing to you about lately. We’ve been getting closer and, I don’t know. It just- it felt right. And we kissed, then the string appeared and connected us. He’s so great, Yoongi. He’s so funny and nice and, I just- I feel so happy.”

“That’s really great, Jimin,” Yoongi genuinely said, a smile sitting on his face. “I’m really happy for you.”

Sighing, Jimin relaxed into the couch in Yoongi’s studio just as another knock, much more calm this time, sounded on the door. Yoongi opened it once more, letting in a confused Taehyung.

Nothing had changed between Yoongi and Taehyung after that night at the club even after another few weeks had passed. They still talked and hung out, usually with Jimin and oftentimes Jungkook as well now. They both seemed to silently agree to act like Jimin’s drunken outburst had never happened, while Yoongi’s heart continued to break every time he saw the string fade more and more. It was almost gone now, hardly visible. It probably wouldn’t make it through the week.

“Is everything alright with Jimin?” Taehyung asked as he stepped in. “He just texted me to come meet him here and that it was a red alert?” He turned to the singer in question, starting to examine him over as if looking for injuries.

Which queued Jimin filling him in on his new soulmate. Taehyung’s eyes widened in shock, but seemed just as happy and excited as Jimin was. Yoongi couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in his chest, staring wistfully at his own string.

“It’s been a few weeks since we’ve talked about the soulmate thing,” Jimin said to Yoongi after they both calmed down. “I want to ask, but I don’t kn-”

“Same as it was last we talked,” Yoongi interrupted. “Nothing new to report.”

Jimin sighed. “I know I was drunk when I said it, but I’m serious that whoever this guy is dumb. It is a guy, right? I just assumed since you seemed interested and made it pretty clear you’re not into girls.”

Turning to his computer so he didn’t accidentally look at Taehyung, Yoongi steeled himself for not being able to dismiss the conversation this time. “Yeah, it’s a guy. And also, you should stop saying that. He has his reasons. And just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean he needs to like me.”

“But he should!” Jimin insisted. “You’re really a catch, Yoongi. He’s really dumb for not wanting something with you. And he’s making you feel sad, I don’t like that.”

“Jimin, please drop it,” Yoongi said as gently as he could, pleading tone to his voice.

It was quiet for a moment before an, “It’s me,” sounded into the room.

Yoongi’s head snapped around to stare at Taehyung, surprised at the words he just muttered, while Jimin’s face morphed into confusion.

“What?” Jimin almost whispered. “What did you say?”

“Yoongi’s soulmate,” Taehyung elaborated, pausing to take a deep breath. “It’s me.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, looking back and forth between the two. “Seriously? You’ve been talking about Tae this whole time? Really?”

Looking at the nearly faded string that only one person in the room couldn’t see, Yoongi nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you guys tell me?” Jimin asked, almost sounding offended. “I just- oh my god, I just said- Yoongi I’m so, so sorry. I just-”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi said. “I think he knew, anyway.”

After a moment of loaded silence, Jimin broke it again. “Alright, I take back what I said, then. Kim Taehyung, you-” Jimin hit him over the head with one of the throw pillows from the couch “-are undeniably, one hundred percent an absolute moron! You have a whole ass Min Yoongi that your soul is literally tied to and you’re not taking that opportunity? What the fuck!”

By this point, Yoongi’s neck should be sore from the amount of whiplash he’d experienced today.

Taehyung looked a little bit like a cornered animal, unsure of what to do. “Jimin, you know about how I feel about soulmates.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jimin said, still seeming exasperated at his best friend. “You don’t trust it, fine. I get it, I really do. But seriously? You guys have been getting along so well, and you’re telling me you haven’t felt like you wanted to date him at all? I know you, Kim Taehyung. I can tell when-”

“It never ends well,” Taehyung interrupted, remaining surprisingly calm.

“Just because both your dad and I got screwed over by our soulmates doesn’t mean everyone does, Taehyung,” Jimin said. “I get why you’re hesitant. And I think it’s really great that you’re getting to know each other instead of jumping into something too early, but seriously?” By this point, Yoongi just felt like a bystander even though the conversation was about something he was very much in the middle of. “How strong is the string?”

When Taehyung’s eyes shifted, settling on the floor without answering, Jimin finally turned back to Yoongi. “How strong is the string?” he repeated.

“It’s um-” Yoongi cleared his throat “-it’s pretty faded. Getting kind of hard to see.”

Jimin sympathetically smiled at Yoongi before turning back to Taehyung and smacking him with the pillow one more time. “I repeat. You are a moron. You guys are talking this out. Right now.”

“Jimin-” Taehyung started.

“Nope,” Jimin stopped him. “I am leaving the room and standing guard outside. And you are going to sit in here and talk your shit out.”

Standing up, Jimin stopped to give Yoongi a strong hug and then threw one last glare at his best friend before closing the door behind him.

While Yoongi tried to process the roller coaster Jimin just put him through, Taehyung leaned back into the couch, running a hand over his face as he sighed. “I don’t know what he expects us to talk about.”

The door opened once more, Jimin having known the password and just usually knocked to be polite, to say, “In case you’re having trouble figuring out where to start, your baggage is a great place to, Taehyung.” Then he firmly closed the door once again.

An awkward silence sat between the two for a moment while Yoongi did his best to look anywhere besides Taehyung or their string.

“You don’t have to,” Yoongi was the first to speak. “If you wanted to give us a shot the string wouldn’t be fading, so I already know your answer.”

“The most valuable lesson I learned from my parents,” Taehyung said, “was to never trust the soulmate string. They did, and my dad ended up so much worse because of it. He always tells me the only good thing he ever got from her was me.”

Yoongi’s mouth was firmly shut as Taehyung started pouring out what was probably his most personal story.

“They were soulmates,” he continued. “They trusted it, didn’t take their time and just rushed into a relationship like so many other people do. But my mom was a bitch, told me all the time I was a mistake and she didn’t even want me. She was so abusive in every way. Verbally, mentally, physically she abused us. Mostly my dad because he did what he could to keep her hands off of me. It wasn’t until I was twelve years old that my dad finally was able to get us away from her. The courts even tried forcing him to give me back to her, too. That’s a really weird thing about the court system, they tend to favor the mothers in these situations. But luckily my dad had taken pictures, and I guess I was barely old enough that they took my testimony against her somewhat seriously so in the end I got to stay safe, with Dad.”

Taehyung stood, walking closer to where Yoongi sat at his desk and sitting on the floor in front of him. “So needless to say, I kind of have a really bad opinion on soulmates. Between him and then Jimin, I just started to feel like they were pointless, that it was always going to be a bad idea to trust the string. I promised myself I’d never let the people who care about me see me go through what they had.”

“I understand,” Yoongi said. “I don’t think you should feel obligated to care about me just because we have this string. And you certainly don’t have to feel bad for me about it.”

“You, um,” Taehyung seemed nervous. “Jimin made it sound like that you are, uh, interested in dating me.”

Looking at the floor, Yoongi nodded. No point in trying to lie about that.

“Why?” Taehyung asked.

Yoongi turned back to him, confusion knitting his brows together. “What do you mean why?”

“Is it because of this?” Taehyung lifted his left hand, the string moving and bending with it as if it were an actual, tangible thing.

“No,” Yoongi didn’t hesitate to respond. “I can’t deny that I had been looking forward to meeting my soulmate. I- well, things have just always gone wrong for me, I guess. And I hoped that could change when I met my soulmate. But I usually forget about it when we hang out. I just enjoy spending time with you, as Kim Taehyung. Anything I’ve ever felt for you has nothing to do with us being soulmates.”

It was silent for a few moments while Taehyung seemed to be in thought. Yoongi turned to his computer, not really doing anything in particular, but just wanting to keep himself occupied to ease the anxious knot in his stomach.

Before either of them said anything else, Yoongi’s phone started vibrating on the desk. The manager of his apartment complex was calling, which was never a good sign. Sliding the green button on the screen, Yoongi tried to keep his voice from shaking as he answered.

“Hey Yoongi,” she greeted. “Sorry to bother you while you’re probably at work, but he’s here again. He’s just sitting outside of your door and won’t leave.”

Yoongi sighed, feeling bad for the poor woman. She was a really nice lady and didn’t deserve to deal with his father’s bullshit. After probably the fifth time the police were called to forcibly remove him, he had figured out that if he didn’t act violently and appeared innocent, they wouldn’t interfere. So now, the only way to get him to leave was for Yoongi to attempt to deal with him, and then call the cops if he did start to get violent. To be honest, he was lucky the woman refused to evict him over it.

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replied. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I’m sorry for needing to ask.”

“Not your fault, either. I’ll handle it, don’t worry.”

He hung up the phone as he got up to gather his things and leave.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung asked, almost nervously, from the floor.

“Sorry, Taehyung,” Yoongi said. “Something came up and I have to go home.” As he walked toward the door, a thought popped into his head. “I promise this doesn’t have anything to do with what we were just talking about. I just genuinely have something to take care of and it can’t wait.” He wasn’t looking forward to this, both him and the apartment manager knowing this was going to be one visit that would end with the cops dragging him out.

“Is everything okay?” Taehyung asked as he got up from the floor.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

When he opened the door, Yoongi was unsurprised to not see Jimin standing there like he said he would be. Knowing him, he probably stuck around just long enough to make sure they started talking before leaving, and probably to go hang out with his new soulmate.

He could feel Taehyung’s presence closely behind him as he walked down the hallway, finding it oddly comforting since he could tell the man seemed genuinely concerned. It was then that Yoongi remembered something important.

“Fuck,” Yoongi said as he stopped in his tracks. “I walked to work today. It’s not that far, but I don’t want to be too long and risk him causing a scene.” Yoongi turned around, and probably would have laughed at Taehyung’s surprised expression if it weren’t for the situation he was preparing to handle. “I’m really sorry to ask, but did you drive here? Do you have something you need to do soon?”

Taehyung gently shook his head no, but didn’t say anything. When Yoongi continued staring at him, he seemed to realize he needed to elaborate. “Oh. Yes, I drove here and no I don’t have anything else I need to do today.”

“Okay, again I’m sorry to ask but could I borrow your car?” Yoongi hesitantly asked. “Or drive me there and then you can leave. I just want to get home as quickly as possible.”

“I’ll drive you,” Taehyung said, and the two continued walking toward the elevator at a quickened pace. “Seriously, is everything okay?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Yoongi insisted. “I’ve had to handle this a ton of times before, and this time isn’t going to be any different.”

They spoke very little on the way there except for Yoongi to give Taehyung directions. His heart flipped in his chest to think about the fact that this was the first time Taehyung was seeing where he lived, but it wasn’t exactly something to be excited about at the moment. He’d see it and then drive away. And the next time Yoongi would see him, the string connecting them may very possibly be gone. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that other than the fact that it scared him.

“Thank you so much,” Yoongi said as Taehyung pulled into the parking garage with ease. “You don’t need to wait for me. I can get back to work on my own.”

“I’ll wait,” Taehyung rushed out before Yoongi closed the door. “I want to talk to you when you get back, so I’ll wait. Should I come with you?”

“No, please don’t come with me. I’d rather not get you mixed up in this. I’ll be back soon. Hopefully,” Yoongi said before closing the car door and walking to the elevator which he could take directly to his floor with his ID. He tapped his foot anxiously as he waited for it to climb up and up, until the doors finally opened on the right floor and he did his best not to rush out. As much as he didn’t want his father inside his home, it was best to not get him agitated before then. Especially if he had been drinking.

Pretending to not have noticed the man leaning against the wall next his door, Yoongi made sure his father couldn’t see the numbers as he typed in his code and opened it. Without looking behind him, Yoongi left it open for him to follow before acknowledging his existence.

“Yoongi,” the man said, elongating the vowels. Definitely drunk.

“What do you want this time?” Yoongi asked, already annoyed. “More money?”

“What? A father isn’t allowed to come see his son?” The look on his face would have appeared as offence to anyone else, but Yoongi knew better.

“You never want to just see me for no reason,” Yoongi said. “What do you want?”

“Always straight to the point,” his father said, almost sounding like praise. But again, Yoongi knew better. “I need some help.”

Sighing, Yoongi turned into his kitchen. He hadn’t eaten lunch yet and was getting pretty hungry so he figured he might as well do something useful while he listened to his father’s excuses this time. “So you want money again.”

“I’m going to get kicked out of my house.”

“Good, maybe that’ll teach you to be more responsible with your money.”

“I’m your father, don’t talk to me like that.”

“Yes, you’re my father.” Yoongi dug around his fridge for some leftovers from last night. “My father who won’t get a job, spends all his money on alcohol and gambling, and then comes crawling back to his son for cash when he can’t afford to pay his bills or buy his groceries because he wasted all the money that his son had lent him the last time. The same money that is always given with the condition that it’s to be used only for your rent and groceries, but it never is.”

His father scoffed. “What good is it to have a son who makes a ton of money when he won’t take care of you?”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you treated your son like he was a worthless piece of shit. You reap what you sow, I guess.”

“You fucking-”

Yoongi placed his food on the counter and turned around in time to block the punch that was far too sluggish to be effective anyway. “You might want to add some new tricks to your bag, old man. You’re too predictable.” His father lowered his raised fist as Yoongi let his grip loose. “And I’m not giving you any more money. I told you last time that I wouldn’t be doing this again, and I intend on keeping that promise.”

“You don’t care that your father’s about to be homeless? When you’re living in this nice apartment in a nice neighborhood?”

“No, I don’t. You only care about me when I’m useful to you. Before, you used to think of me as just some piece of shit who wasn’t worth your time. Now, you only care that I have money and could support your alcoholic ass if I chose to. But guess what? I’m done. I told you a month ago that was going to be the last time and I meant it. Now fuck off.”

“I didn’t raise you to be a disrespectful piece of shit.”

Yoongi prepared for the next attempt to hit him, but to his surprise it didn’t come when they were both distracted by a very familiar voice calling from the entryway.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung’s deep timbre sounded into the house. “Yoongi, are you here? Is everything okay?”

“I told you to stay in the car,” Yoongi sighed when Taehyung made his way into the kitchen. “You shouldn’t be here. Please go back to the car. I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Who the fuck is this?” Yoongi’s father asked.

“Who the fuck are you?” Taehyung deflected back.

“I’m his father,” he replied before turning back to Yoongi. “Don’t tell me your gay little ass got yourself a boyfriend.”

“Excuse you?” Taehyung answered while Yoongi bit his tongue. “First of all, that’s apparently none of your business if that’s how you’re going to talk to him. Second, Yoongi, are you okay?” his voice became much softer as he asked, making Yoongi’s heart feel warm.

“I’m fine,” Yoongi replied. “No need to get yourself involved. I’ve got this under control. Now, if you would leave, Dad, we have nothing else to talk about here.”

“I need fucking money, Yoongi!”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that.” Yoongi turned back to the counter to open his container of leftover food and pop it in the microwave as he spoke. “But you’re not getting it from me. How about you stop drinking and get yourself a job. Maybe then you’d have some money.”

“Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean it’s easy to get fucking money. You think it’s easy?”

Yoongi was more than done with him at this point. “I know it’s not easy. I grew up with you as my parent, remember? After mom died, you could hardly even keep a roof over our heads and I had to work low-paying shit jobs as soon as I could to help you before I got out of there and slowly worked my way to where I am. So yeah, I know it’s not. But I’ve given you so many chances, way more than you deserve, frankly. And I’m done. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you for you to understand.”

When Yoongi’s father knew he had nothing to say back, he resorted to his fists. When the first one extended it was Taehyung, who had been silently standing back and watching their argument, who moved forward to restrain him.

“Keep your filthy hands off of me!” Yoongi’s father struggled as Taehyung kept his arms locked behind him.

“That’s what Yoongi should be saying to you,” Taehyung rebutted as he dragged the man toward the entrance to the apartment. Yoongi followed, watching as his soulmate shoved the still yelling man over the threshold and quickly shut the door behind him, locking him out.

“Taehyung, what-”

“The woman downstairs said she would call the cops,” Taehyung spoke over the pounding and yelling from the other side of the door.

“How did you even know where my apartment was?” Yoongi asked, still trying to process what just happened.

“The way you phrased things made me worried,” Taehyung said as he walked further into the house. “So I got out of the car not long after you and asked the lady at the front desk about you. She seemed relieved that you had someone to help you, and then told me she’d go ahead and call the cops then if you were already up here talking to him. Obviously, I got even more worried so when she told me your room number I hurried up.”

“But how’d you get in?”

“The door was left open.”

Of course his father hadn’t closed the door. Sighing, Yoongi retreated back to the kitchen to get his food from the microwave which had been annoyingly beeping at him periodically to remind him that it was done. His hands started shaking as he placed the container back on the counter, residual adrenaline from the argument keeping his body over fueled.

After taking a breath to steady himself, Yoongi grabbed some chopsticks and took his dinner to the table to eat, Taehyung closely following. While he settled in to eating, he could hear the police filing into the hallway to collect his father and drag him away.

“Yoongi, if he ever comes back here again, please don’t face him alone,” Taehyung said as he pulled back a chair to sit in. “Call me next time.”

“I’ve handled him all my life, I can take care of it on my own.” Yoongi poked his food around as he spoke, not yet having taken a real bite of it.

“But you don’t have to.”

Looking up at him, Yoongi’s gaze met Taehyung’s. A silent moment sat between them, charged but not uncomfortable. “I guess it’s time for me to tell you my baggage, huh?” Yoongi asked.

“Only if you want, but you don’t have to,” Taehyung replied easily. “You could always tell me later.”

Yoongi chanced a glance toward the string, heart dropping when it was still just as faded as before, maybe even a little more. “It’ll be gone soon,” he whispered before shoveling the first bite of rice into his mouth. After he finished chewing, he sighed. “I feel like I need to talk about it now. I just- he gets me so angry. There’s only been one person I’ve ever been able to vent to about anything, and I just really want to get it all out right now.”

Nodding, Taehyung said, “Okay. If you want to, then go ahead. I’m here, I’m listening.” The sincere look in his eyes could have fooled Yoongi.

“My mom was really nice, at least from what I remember. I think she was the only thing that kept my dad held together. But she got sick when I was still young, so then it was just me and my dad. He had a hard time keeping a steady job, would start going to drink and just didn’t pay much attention to me. He didn’t hit me or anything back then, but he just didn’t seem to care much. And then, when I realized that I was gay, he became disgusted with me. Told me how wrong it was, how much of an abomination I was, use slurs with me. That was around when he started becoming violent, too. Was always a bad hit, though.”

“Asshole,” Taehyung muttered under his breath.

That got a chuckle out of Yoongi. “Yeah, basically. I tried to find other people who would accept me. I didn’t think anything was wrong with me, despite what he said. I had heard about same-sex couples who were soulmates not being very uncommon, how it is a really old idea from back when soulmates were completely ignored that it was somehow unnatural and wrong. And even before I started making a bunch of money, he’d always expect me to support him. I had to try to make enough to support myself, and him at the same time because he never got his act together. It’s always been like that.”

Taehyung shifted in his seat, seeming to have something to say but was too nervous to. When Yoongi looked at him and nodded once in encouragement, he gently spoke. “You mentioned earlier that you were unhappy and hoped meeting your soulmate would change that. Is it because of him?”

“He was the first reason. It became a pattern in my life for people to just not care or hurt me. My best friend, Namjoon, he’s always trying to tell me that I deserve to be loved. But everyone has always made me feel like I can’t have it. My father was just the first one to show me that.”

“You do, though,” Taehyung said. “Deserve love, I mean. You really do.”

Trying his hardest to ignore the painful clench of his heart in the irony of Taehyung being the one to say that, Yoongi pushed his food away and set down his chopsticks, no longer feeling hungry.

“Do you want to talk about the others?” Taehyung carefully asked.

Nodding, Yoongi took in a breath to brace himself to continue. “So the first person I told about my sexuality was my closest friend at the time. He didn’t take it well, either. He was always really nice, but then suddenly he became cold and didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. It only got worse after that. When I went to college, I had a crush on this one guy who knew about it but all I was good to him for was to be used to get off, and eventually he got tired of me. Anyone who ever acted interested in me in some way, it was never for me. No one ever cared about me, just that I was a guy they knew was gay and could be used for their closeted asses.”

“That’s why you were hoping your soulmate would be different.” It wasn’t a question that Taehyung muttered, barely above a whisper. “But when we met I just walked away without even talking to you, just like another one of those jerks. Didn’t even give you a chance.”

Yoongi said nothing, just stared at their string that was still hardly there at all. He was so shocked when Taehyung’s hand covered his that he almost pulled his own away.

“Jimin’s right,” were the next words out of Taehyung’s mouth. “I’m a moron. My whole issue about soulmates is that people don’t take the time to properly get to know someone and run so far ahead without even thinking. But we’re friends, we’ve been getting to know each other for quite a while now. And instead of thinking that means it’s okay to give us a chance, I’ve been stuck in this mindset of thinking that I can’t follow the string. That it’s somehow inevitably going to lead me to pain. Even though I-”

Heart pounding, Yoongi’s eyes searched Taehyung’s face in hopes of seeing what he was about to say.

“Just the thought that this string connecting us is going to disappear forever because I’m being such an indecisive, baggage-carrying ass, it absolutely terrifies me. I don’t want it to disappear. I used to hate it, I thought it wouldn’t do anything but cause me problems. But, Yoongi-” Taehyung’s eyes finally connected with Yoongi’s “-I feel like it was impossible for me to not fall for you. I’ve just been ignoring it because I’ve been scared and- fuck, I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense to me now that I’ve actually thought about it. I just feel like an idiot for fighting it all this time now.”

Surely Taehyung had to be able to hear how fast Yoongi’s heart was pounding in his chest. Was he being honest? It would still make sense as to why the string kept fading, but if he was being honest about it now, the string should be becoming brighter, shouldn’t it? Looking at it again, he could see that it wasn’t. Was the damage that’s been done to it permanent?

“I understand if it’s too late, though,” Taehyung said, nearly breaking Yoongi’s heart in half. “Even if we’ve been good friends up until now, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve let you get strung along while I didn’t know what to do with myself. Oh wow, that was a pun right there. That wasn’t even intentional. But whatever, I just mean-”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi interrupted. Blinking back at him, Taehyung stayed quiet while he waited for Yoongi to continue. “If you really mean all of that, then you have a lot of making up to do.”

“Do you mean…”

“The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, the same man that I have been falling for so hard and so fast ever since the first time we spoke to each other, just told me that he’s been falling for me too. How am I supposed to reject that?”

Taehyung’s chest rose up and down with how hard he was breathing. “Maybe- maybe we should think about this. It’s been an emotional day and we should take a moment. I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret because you’re not able to think properly-”

“I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions and have been practically praying for this day to happen. Kim Taehyung, if you meant everything you just told me, then you better come over here and kiss me within the next five seconds or so help me, I-”

It was Taehyung’s turn to cut Yoongi off, but by joining their lips together. One of his beautiful, large hands rested on the back of Yoongi’s head, making him tilt it just a little to make the kiss easier from the awkward angle. Yoongi felt like his heart was soaring as he eagerly returned the kiss, pressing back into Taehyung’s soft lips. He could swear he felt something tingling on his left ring finger, but was absolutely not breaking the kiss to take a look.

Gripping onto Taehyung’s shirt, Yoongi stood up carefully enough to make sure their lips stayed connected. Wanting to deepen the kiss, he parted his lips just enough to give Taehyung the invitation to do so. He was rewarded with a delightful groan as Taehyung’s tongue tangled with his own. It was only their first kiss, no time yet to learn how to navigate each other and what each of them liked, but it was by far the best thing Yoongi had ever experienced in his life. It was almost as if he could feel Taehyung pouring his emotions into it.

When they finally pulled away from each other minutes or maybe hours later, out of breath, Yoongi thought that maybe Taehyung really did. They rested their foreheads together for a moment, smiling at each other like they’d never been happier in their lives—and maybe Yoongi hadn’t. Yoongi was the first to chance a look at where the string wrapped around his finger only for his smile to grow wider. He looked back up into Taehyung’s eyes once more as he lifted his left hand for the other to see for himself.

“It’s back,” Taehyung breathlessly marveled. “Is it-” he pulled away just enough to look at his own “-is it just me because I got so used to seeing it fading, or is it brighter than before now?”

“I don’t think it’s ever been this vivid,” Yoongi answered. “I always remembered it being just slightly transparent. But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was an actual, real string on my finger right now.”

Taehyung’s light laugh made Yoongi’s already palpitating heart jump even more. “Kiss me?” Taehyung asked.

Who was Yoongi to refuse that request?

“So does this mean I’m not going to have you coming to me to mope about your soulmate anymore?” Namjoon teased when Yoongi finally introduced the two. It was a stupidly large gathering at Jimin’s house, who had insisted that they had to celebrate not just one, but two soulmate pairs getting together. Jimin demanded that Yoongi invited Namjoon so he could meet him, and had invited Jungkook who also brought his older brother Seokjin since Jimin saw a picture of him and demanded that he needed to meet such a beauty in person. And of course Hoseok was there as well.

So there were seven of them. Maybe not large for Jimin’s standards, but this was absolutely a huge gathering for Yoongi who preferred to just chill at home by himself—well not so much by himself since he now had an actual boyfriend who he just couldn’t help wanting to see all the time.

“You act like I did that all the time,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes. “I only did that once.”

“Twice,” Namjoon corrected. “Once when you first met, and then when you met the second time. You came to my house so late at night, already halfway to drunk, and kept me up way too late telling me about how you could just tell that it was already doomed to fail.”

Yoongi didn’t need to look to know Taehyung was pouting. He could practically feel its aura. “We’re not doomed though, are we, Yoongi?”

“You would have failed if it weren’t for me,” Jimin inserted himself into the conversation. “You literally owe this whole entire thing to me. If I hadn’t met Yoongi through work, and I wasn’t best friends with you’re dumb but beautiful ass, you probably wouldn’t have even talked at all. And I was the one who forced you to air out your dirty laundry so that you could actually talk things out like adults.”

“Yes, thank you, Almighty Jimin who shall never let us live that down,” Taehyung said as he exaggeratedly bowed to him. “I promise to name one of my future children after you to honor the good deeds you have done for me and my boyfriend.”

“I shall accept that payment,” Jimin said, definitely enjoying himself more than he should.

“If we have or adopt kids in the future, we are not naming them after Jimin,” Yoongi said, bursting Jimin’s bubble of delight. “And also, please don’t compliment my boyfriend’s ass, it’s off limits.”

“So’s mine, so it’s even.” Jimin laughed, leaning into his own boyfriend since he could never keep himself standing when he laughed too hard for some reason.

“Dude, why did you never introduce me to your new friends before this?” Namjoon cut in suddenly. “I like them already.”

“Of course you do,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “You can have them if you want. I don’t think I want to keep him anymore.”

“Hey! We literally just established how you two owe me a child for putting you together,” Jimin said.

Sighing, Yoongi rolled his eyes. “That is not what we-”

“I promise to not forget my debt to you, my Savior Jimin.” Taehyung yet again played up worshiping the man while Yoongi merely questioned every choice he made to put himself here.

But when he saw the string on his finger, bright as ever, he couldn’t help but smile. Thanks to not just Taehyung but also the other people who had recently entered his life, he smiled much more than before. He had people who accepted him for who he was and cared about him.

Sometimes, the string was wrong. Not even that could be perfect. But sometimes, it got this so, so right. And Yoongi was just happy that in the end, his soulmate did end up being the person who could love him the way he had longed for for so long.

My ask box is always open!

Also, if you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :) You can also check out my Etsy shop for BTS inspired charms as well!

[yourehomesickiunderstand]

About/Rules/Verses

Hello, and welcome to my Bofur RP blog. This post is a HUGE wall of text, if you are on desktop and would like to see it a little tidier, please see the separate pages in the sidebar to the right. 

Promo Post Found Here

About the Mun

1. Firstly I am over 30, own a house, have a husband, 1 baby, 2 cats, and a wealth of commitments and responsibilities. I will do my best to reply in a timely manner, but will state up front that sometimes life gets in the way.

2. I am in EST and work M-F from 9-5, plus a half hour commute. Please understand that I can not post from work, and will not be posting during those times.

3. In addition, I am Mom to a very active toddler who is my priority over writing and who’s nap schedule tends to dictate when I can post.

4. My native language is English, though I can understand French, and a little bit of Spanish and Japanese. Don’t bank on me carrying on a decent conversation in any of those languages though.

About the Blog

1. When I first set up this blog I didn’t realize that secondary blogs can’t follow back, ask, or submit. My main blog name is Saffity, so if you see that blog follow you, it’s me. If I send an ask or submit, I will mention this blog name so you don’t get confused.

2. My inbox, ask, etc. is open. Please feel free to write me any starters, questions, or whatever.

3. Please send any critiques or suggestions to me. I’ve been on Tumblr forever, but have never really been a poster. If you see me doing basic noob mistakes with my posts that can be easily fixed, please let me know.

4. I will be tracking #yourehomesickiunderstand so please use that tag with our threads.

Mun’s Playing Style

1. I prefer my Bofur straight. I understand Boffins and other ships and have no qualms with them, I’ve been known to enjoy a good fluff fic once in a while, but this Bofur is straight.

2. Please send me an ask or fan mail if you would like our characters to have an already established relationship, I’m totally cool with it. I respond to all cannon characters as known as it shows in the books or movies, but if you are an OC and want something other than a “Nice to meet you” please let me know first.

3. I’m willing to do some fluffies, but not full on smut, if the thread calls for smut (which will often happen), I’ll fade to black when I’ve gone as far as I feel comfortable with. (Don’t worry, I’ll fade when I’m ready, you’ll never get any angry messages from me about going too far.)

4. Bofur here is multiverse, au, indie, whatever you want to call it. I’m sure he’ll fit into whatever crossover or world you decide to drop him in, he’s very easy going after all.

5. I tend to write in the past tense, third person. If you’d prefer a different style, just let me know and I’ll try to accommodate.

6. I’m bad with my images, so bad! I’m still figuring everything out, so if I’ve royally screwed something up, please let me know and I will delete and repost correctly.

7. I am super okay with editing anything I write if it doesn’t jive with your character or where you want the plot to go, please just let me know.

8. I mainly play on mobile, as such, I’m not able to cut my posts down. Please do so whenever you feel the need/want, I won’t be upset.

Head Cannons that go across all verses

1. Bofur has a Northern Irish accent and his hat, always his hat.

2. Bofur has named his hat Bundushathur, which in Khuzdul means “Cloudyhead” and will sometimes refer to his hat as a sleeping rabbit. If Khuzdul does not exist in the verse (like Modern) then the hat is called Cloudyhead and still referred to as a rabbit.

3. Bofur is the everyman, he isn’t special or high born. He is good natured, friendly, and the world’s best wingman, even if it means connecting someone he pines after with someone else. He would rather see them happy and keep their friendship than try to force his feelings on them or lose their friendship because of his pride.

4. The main characteristic about Bofur is that he is unimportant in the hierarchy of society.

Main Verse - The Hobbit/LOTR

Bofur is 4'6" but fairly thin for a dwarf.

Bofur is a dwarf who’s family line comes from Moria. He is of the mining class. He was born and raised in Ered Luin with his brother. Shortly after Bofur became an adult, his parents died, leaving him to raise his brother. Shortly after that, Bifur was injured in an orc attack. Bofur and Bombur took Bifur in, however there were a number of difficult years as they all got used to Bifur’s new personality.

Once Bifur was stable enough, the brothers decided it would be a good idea to head out and find new customers for their skills. They ended up at Bree, opening up a shop to sell Bifur’s fabulous toys, and offer tinkering services.

During their stay in Bree, Bombur got married to a passing female dwarf and moved his overly large family near the shop. Bifur and Bofur live together in living quarters at the back of the shop, Bombur lived with them until he got married.

Bofur travels around Middle Earth, usually west of the Misty Mountains, and most often between Bree and Ered Luin by way of the Shire. He collects supplies, sells wares, and visits many friends and family that are about the lands.

When Thorin calls for assistance in taking back Erebor, Bofur and his kin lock up their shop and head for the Shire.

After the quest they settle in Erebor, though Bofur heads back to Bree to close up their shop and settle accounts prior to settling in for a long life of enjoying his 14th share of the treasure.

Head Cannons that can totally change if my partner is a Bifur or Bombur

1. Bofur’s father was killed in Moria at the battle of Azanulbizar, his Mother died in an Orc attack when Bofur was in his 40s. He has taken care of his brother ever since.

2. Bofur took Bifur in after Bifur was orphaned as well, the three are like brothers, having shared the experience of loss and growing up together.

3. Bombur stopped speaking after their mother died. Bofur’s tried to get him to speak, and has managed to get him to speak sometimes, but usually just small replies and often with much prodding. Bifur and Bombur use the same sign language to speak to each other and those who don’t speak Khuzdul. Bofur takes care of both of them and is the one who speaks to customers.

Modern Verse

High School

Bofur is not popular, though he’s friendly and basically knows everyone. He enjoys shop class, classical music, and historical literature.

Studious and hard working, Bofur can often be found with his nose in a book, when not sitting on the bleachers playing the tin flute he always has on him.

College Student

Bofur is a TA in college. His major is historical literature, and his goal is to eventually become a professor. His passion is delving into historical fanatasy from cultures other than England and Western Europe.

He enjoys learning languages in order to read what he is researching in its original state.

General Modern Adult

In most modern adult verses Bofur is a general labourer, most often a janitor. If he is a teacher, he teaches music and drama.

Ice Cream Shop

Bofur runs a small home made ice cream shop that is part of a coffee shop run with a companion or family member (his partner can be any member of the company). He makes a variety of flavours, and offers lactose and gluten free varieties.

He prides himself on being able to guess his customers’ favourites on sight (like the movie Chocolat).

Marvel

Bofur is a janitor within shield. He can be found on the helicarrier, within the Avengers training base, or basically anywhere the heroes may be destroying things that need to be cleaned up.

While he is quiet and without powers, he has wisdom and a patient ear to lend to those supers who require a moment to vent.

Star Trek

This is the only verse where Bofur stands out. Bofur is a red shirt, but by some miraculous turn of events, he has gone on a number of away missions and made it back alive. Poor Bofur would love to get off the enterprise with his life, and shirt, in tact, but it appears some of the higher officers like to see him lose his mind and suggest him for more away missions, even if only in jest.

Head cannons that exist in all modern verses

1. Bofur and his family are from Northern Ireland, though Bofur travels around, goes to school abroad, and in general can pop up anywhere in the world.

2. Bofur is short for a male - 5'6", with a stocky build, and fairly strong.

3. Bofur’s younger brother Bombur is still at home (or married with kids depending on their age).

4. Bofur’s parents took Bifur in after he got injured during Armed Forces training, as Bofur’s family lives closer to the rehab resources that Bifur requires.

[mammon-chan]

Deja Vu (Mammon x F!MC)

TW: blood, death, violent thoughts

A scream echoed through the House of Lamentation. It was a common sound – sometimes Asmodeus would screech about someone stealing his hair products, or Leviathan would yell about missing out on a limited-edition figurine. However, this time, the scream was unfamiliar – higher pitched than the rest of the brothers’ and was silenced quickly.

Mammon, who had walked along the corridor to try and spy on your conversation of Lucifer, raced towards the source. You were lying there, on the ground, battered and bloodied. His own brother, who was supposed to be on exchange in the human world, laughed hysterically as he was pulled back by Lucifer and Beelzebub.

Mammon didn’t understand anything people were saying – there was a roaring in his ears he couldn’t silence. He knelt beside you. Carefully, Mammon pulled your semi-conscious body into his arms. “Elena! Hang in there! Elena!”

“Mammon, you look like such a fool!” Belphegor sneered. “A human’s about to kick the bucket, and yet here you are, panicking as if it’s the end of the world!” He could barely finish his sentence due to his laughter, a crazed look in his eyes that Mammon didn’t recognise.

Your eyes fluttered, shifting to meet his. Your face was tense as you tried to fake a smile, your voice quiet within the din as you spoke, “at least I kept that promise, huh?” His mind went blank as he tried to decipher what you mean.

 He was sitting on your bed. His hands shook as he wrapped bandages around your arm, the shock of you nearly dying at Leviathan’s hand, whilst he’d tripped, unable to stop anything from happening was still evident. Lucifer had stepped in at the last minute, saving you from harm’s way. Leave it to Lucifer to clean up Mammon’s messes, he had thought bitterly.

“…Listen. The next time your life’s in danger, I’m gonna be the one to save you, all right? Don’t you forget that.” He paused, swallowing as his hands slid away from yours. Seeming to hesitate before he continued, “…And if I can’t manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it?!”

A short silence, and you nodded, giving him a small smile. “All right.” You answered. “I promise.” With your uninjured hand, you locked pinkies with him

Mammon shook his head. “No. No, you’re not gonna die, ya hear me? Don’t you dare die!” He yelled. Tears blurred his vision as they fell down his cheeks. His glasses were getting smeared and he could barely see. He didn’t care.  

Raising a hand up to cup his face, your thumb grazed against his cheek. Your lips moved to form words he would never hear. He felt your hand drop and your eyes fluttered shut.

He doesn’t know how long he held you for. Curses spewed from his mouth as he screamed and cried. At some point he was pulled away from your body by Lucifer who had an odd look of concern on his face. He had tried to calm Mammon down. It doesn’t work. Mammon broke free from Lucifer’s grasp and bolted out of the house as fast as he could. Never stopping, never looking back.

When he finally arrived at the Demon Lord’s Castle, Barbatos was there, waiting for him. With the same polite smile as ever, he greeted Mammon. “So, you still haven’t managed it?” It feels like he’s being mocked. He ignored the comment and passed Barbatos.

“One more time. I’ll save her this time.” He swore on it.

--------

He awoke with a start. It all felt like a bad dream that would never end.

After getting changed into his uniform, he barged into your room as always, to find you, sat at your vanity mirror, seeming to have spaced out. It was normal to find you staring into space – he almost laughed with how regular the sight he saw was. You snapped out of your dream-world and your eyes met with his reflection. Due to the amount of times the brothers had barged into your room, you didn’t seem to be rattled by the fact he’d entered unannounced. “Good morning, mi amor!”

His eyes widened, and in just a few steps, he encases you within a rib-breaking hug that would rival Beelzebub’s.

You let out a small squeak of surprise and patted his arm in hopes he’d let you go so you could breathe. He loosened his grip but kept a firm hold on you. As he spoke, he rested his head on your shoulder. “Sorry, sorry. Just– Lemme stay like this for a little longer.” His voice was barely above a whisper. Your fingers threaded through his hair, and he let out a sigh.

“I feel like I’ve failed you,” He whispered.

You stiffened under his grasp, and he cursed himself for letting his thoughts slip out. “What?”

“Agh, nothin’, nothin’!” He let go of you and waved his hands precariously in front of him and grinned, making an obvious show of ‘nothing’ being wrong. “Was just talkin’ to myself, don’t ya worry, Elena.” You stared at him for a long moment, before you nodded.

“If you say so, love.”

Mammon could tell you hadn’t believed a word he had said. However, you weren’t the type to pry too much, so you didn’t question him. And for now, just being here with you was enough.

You were alright. Everything would be okay.

--------

But he knows that it isn’t. He spent the last year repeating the same day over and over. Trying, trying to save you. Always failing.

Each time you died seemed more devastating than the last – how could you keep disappearing during your conversation with Lucifer, then suddenly show up with Belphegor? He didn’t understand.

He’d tried, time and time again to follow you, but each time, he’d get stuck at the stairs that led to the attic. And surely you weren’t up there, because nobody was allowed there, except Lucifer.

Sometimes his anger would bubble up too much, and he’d even contemplate on whether he should murder his own brother, Belphegor, after he’d killed you so many times. Or at least severely injuring him before his brothers got in the way. Perhaps he could force him to talk about how he killed you when he was supposed to be in the human world. The violent urges would pass within minutes, and he’d mentally beat himself up over the fact he’d even think about killing his own brother.

--------

You had died once again. He had found you, half conscious, being dragged out to the hallway by his brother, who’s chest puffed out with pride at killing a ‘measly’ human that he despised. At some point, during one of the many times he’d repeated the timeline, he’d stopped crying when you died. He’d grown numb to the sensation of grief stabbing away at his heart. Instead, he turned, his head lowered, fists swung tightly by his sides. He left the House of Lamentation as his brothers mourned after you, and headed, as always, to the Demon Lord’s Castle.

The first thing Mammon had saw was Barbatos, stood by the entrance. His lips were curled into a smirk, and Mammon walked forward. He swung his fist forwards towards the other demon’s face, and Barbatos caught the punch before it landed, twisting Mammon’s hand away from him before he released.

“There’s no point in getting upset at me for your own failures.” The butler turned and walked back inside, and Mammon followed him inside, just like clockwork.

“You’re right.” He mumbled and stretched out his hand, fingers running over the fingernail marks that had bit into his palm.

He had followed Barbatos into his room, watched as he opened the door once again for him. If he stepped through, everything would be reset once again. You wouldn’t be dead anymore. You would be alive, in the Devildom.

With the next step he took, his demon form took place. After all the repeats of the same timeline, in the same dimension, he had grown more powerful. He could feel this extra energy surging through his veins, urging him to finally make a move. Barbatos turned towards Mammon as he stepped forward again, and with one swift blow to the head, he was down. He kicked the door shut, moving towards another door before Barbatos could recover. He was just thankful that Barbatos had explained which door contained which power, or he would’ve been lost in the time-loop forever. He yanked the door open.

“There’s only one way for us to be happy.” He muttered to himself as he stepped into the void beyond the doorway.

If he couldn’t save you, then he would create a universe where you would never get hurt again.

And with that last thought, his vision turned black.

  --------

some of y’all might’ve been wondering: damn, jo hasn’t written/posted anything in a bit. jokes legit nobody has thought that and that’s because i’ve been working on this commission for the lovely @eckya! it’s actually the longest fic i’ve wrote in Years at around 1.4k words (which isn’t that long but shh) 

they requested a fic with their custom MC inspired by madoka magica rebellion and it was pretty fun to play around/write with wibbly wobbly timey wimey... stuff. god i make myself cringe, this isnt 2012 tumblr

i hope y’all enjoy this fic bc it took a While due to quarantine fkjbggkj

if y’all did enjoy, feel free to tip my work here! or even commission me!

[tsarisfanfiction]

Grounded pt4

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

7k words later and this thing that was supposed to be a short explanation for what I saw as a plot hole in Venom is finally at an end. Got rather out of hand but since when is that unusual with fics? This’ll be proof read, edited, and then posted on AO3/FFN soon; I’m still undecided if I should chapter split it or have it all as a oneshot but it won’t be exactly as it’s been split here because I’ve posted this as I wrote it.

Someone mentioned ‘what if the ep was really like this’ so I’ll reiterate some of my earlier notes: this fic is a reaction to the lack of TB1 or Scott doing any sort of piloting in the S3 Venom despite it being a rescue where speed was important.  All the events in part 2 fit around the events we see in the episode seamlessly (I literally watched it in 5 sec bursts as I was writing to make sure of that), so to them and everyone else who thought that: this fic is designed to be that episode, just viewed through a different lens.  And then I made it worse after the episode was over because why not.

The reaction to this has been fantastic so far, way beyond anything I expected!  Thanks for that, and I hope you enjoy this last installment as much as the rest of it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

There was a steady beeping, calm and methodical.  Beep… beep… beep… it went, more of a reassurance than an irritant to the dregs of his consciousness.  Scott recognised it, but couldn’t place it, and found himself more interested in the fresh air flowing around his mouth and nose.  That was more immediately familiar, a constant from his last bout of consciousness, and it didn’t take his stirring brain long to label it as a rebreather.

Was that really necessary? Frowning slightly, he lifted a hand to his face and tugged the machine away, fresh air replaced with warmer air that had just the faintest tang.  The air of the sea.  He’d been on Thunderbird Two, but Thunderbird Two’s air didn’t taste of warmth and salt, rather the recycled air of an enclosed plane in flight, crisp and just a little bit off.  If this wasn’t Thunderbird Two and he was tasting sea air, there was only one place he could possibly be.

He smiled, hand still holding the rebreather falling to his side limply.  He was home.

Opening his eyes was a little more of a challenge, eyelids still heavy and eyelashes catching on each other, but as he blinked his way into awareness, beads of moisture forming in the corners of his eyes but not falling, he realised that he was almost sitting upright, the bed raised to its full extent so he was facing the wall with its fake holographic window rather than the plain and boring ceiling.

Scott appreciated that, letting the rebreather fall from his fingers as he wiped the sleep and moisture from his eyes.  He’d spent far too many hours staring at the ceiling that never changed, and at least the hologram could change.  The actual reasoning behind his positioning was more likely his rib, which Scott would worry about later.  It wasn’t his rib that had tried to kill him, and he looked down at his left arm.

A neat band-aid – a childish one, decorated with bright red biplanes soaring across a blue background that he’d always fought for as a kid – stood out against his bare skin, just below the elbow, and he smiled, wondering which of his brothers was responsible for that one.  On that same forearm he also saw a cannula, attached to tubing with translucent liquid passing through, and grimaced.  He never liked being on a drip.

He was no longer in his uniform.  Part of him – the part that contained his pride – bristled at that, wondering who had stripped him while he was unconscious and why, but the clothes he was wearing were comfortable, well-worn, and unmistakable as his favourite pyjamas even without him looking at them.  His comfort-pyjamas, although he was fairly certain he’d never made the mistake of letting that slip to anyone.  The ones he turned to whenever things got particularly rough, a plain unassuming dark grey with worn patches from the times he’d needed all the support he could get.

It could just be a coincidence, although Scott was uncomfortably aware that if there was one person he couldn’t keep anything truly secret from it was John, but whatever the reason, he was glad of them now.  There was nothing like comfort clothes after a near-death experience.

Considering he’d just had a near-death experience, the lack of anyone in the room with him was somewhat unusual.  Virgil in particular he’d expected to see, his younger brother blaming himself for bringing him out on the mission even before he’d been bitten, let alone afterwards. Kayo hovering unassumedly in the corner, sharp eyes full of concern.  John flickering by his side, watching him for the slightest change. Grandma, retired from caring for strangers but never too old to stay up all night with her family.

Scott eyed the drip. If none of his family were with him, physically or virtually, then that meant something else was going on that trumped his condition.  In their family, there was very little that trumped an unconscious brother or grandson. And if they weren’t with him, he had no intentions of staying put.

He’d removed drips hundreds of times – his own and other peoples’.  By this point, he had it down to an art, even if his sneaky family had tried to make it harder on him by putting it in his dominant arm; there were benefits to being ambidextrous.  He reached across with his right hand, fingers gently probing the needle, and had just found the sweet spot when there was the unmistakable hsss of the door sliding open.

“What do you think you’re doing, young man?” Grandma demanded, striding in and gently but firmly forcing him to release his grip.  “That’s there for a reason.”

“Hey, Grandma,” he greeted, grinning at her and ignoring that she’d just caught him trying to escape. “How long was I asleep?”

“Your siblings brought you back four and a half hours ago,” she told him, picking up the discarded rebreather and placing it on the bedside table before perching on the bed.  Scott watched her carefully, accepting the hand cupping his cheek as a thumb swiped at what was presumably some sleep he’d missed.  “Trust you to wake up the one time I have to use the toilet.  This old bladder can’t hold it in like it used to.”

Scott grimaced good-naturedly at the tmi and she chuckled at him, patting his cheek lightly twice before letting her hand rest.

“You gave us all a scare there, Scott,” she said softly, eyes running over him once before meeting his own.  “You don’t have to try and beat Gordon on that score, you know.  It’s okay to let someone else have that crown.”

“I’d appreciate it if he never gave me another scare in my life,” Scott admitted, before glancing around the room again.  “Where are they, anyway?  Not to sound self-centred, but I don’t usually wake up here alone.”

“Alan and Kayo are dealing with a stalled freighter just outside of orbit and Gordon and Virgil are responding to a sinking cargo ship,” Grandma told him.  “They’ll all be back soon, and delighted to know you’ve decided to re-join the land of the living.”  She tangled her fingers with his, pressing them to her chest with a hand that was almost trembling.  “It was a close call, Scott.  Your brother almost didn’t make it in time.”

His brother? Virgil?  John?  John had had a plan, he remembered that much, although he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the details.  Wait…

“I heard Thunderbird One,” he said, recalling the roar that had soothed him to sleep like a purr.  It could have been a figment of his imagination, but he didn’t think so.  A smile spread across his grandmother’s face.

“Of course you did,” she laughed.  “You boys and your machines.  Well on your way to see your mother and you still recognised your ‘bird.”  The smile was bright for a moment before it dimmed again. “Alan flew all the way to a lab in China to collect a dose of the antivenom before rendezvousing with Thunderbird Two to deliver it.  I’ve never seen that ‘bird fly so fast without you in the hotseat.”

Alan.  Scott could well imagine his youngest brother, face screwed up in concentration and fear, sat in the pilot’s seat.  The idea tied a knot in his chest, but at the same time there was pride, and an unexpected thankfulness for the rib injury that had kept him grounded and subsequently given Alan more flight hours in his ‘bird. Without that…

Without that, he might well have died.  The realisation doused him like cold water, his eyes leaving his grandmother’s to stare blindly at his lap.  He’d known he was dying, remembered a desperate fight against whispered promises of the stars and seeing his Mom again, but sitting in the infirmary, home and safe, it carried a different weight.

“Oh, Scott,” Grandma whispered, releasing his hand and cheek only to draw him in to a careful hug around his shoulders.  “It’s okay. It’s over.”  After a moment his hands found the back of her always there purple onesie, fisting around the fabric as his head rested in the crook of her neck.  “It’s okay.”

There was the slightest of cracks in her voice, a reminder that no matter how much steel she was made of, she wasn’t immune to the idea of loss.  Her parents, long ago, before Scott’s memories began.  Her husband, daughter in law.  Her son, who might still be alive and waiting for them.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, as much for her benefit as his.  “I’m okay.”

Her hand found the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair softly as though he was a young boy woken from a nightmare again.  It was the sort of treatment she didn’t give him in front of his brothers, knowing that he preferred to keep up the illusion of strength in front of them, no matter what.

“I want you to take it easy,” she told him after a minute or so, releasing him and instead gripping his hands in hers.  One pair was trembling, but he didn’t know if it was his or hers.  “I know that’s not in your vocabulary, but I refuse to let you throw yourself back in harms’ way until you’re fully recovered after what happened today.”

“But-” Scott protested, complaints and reasons why he shouldn’t be bedbound queuing up one after the other on the tongue.  A single look from his grandmother quelled them all before he could vocalise any.

“If you can’t do it for the sake of your own recovery,” she said, something in her voice implying that she thought he should treat himself better – he treated himself fine! – “then do it for our peace of mind, Scott.  We were all terrified when we heard what happened. Virgil was stuck watching you slip away with no way of stopping it.  That fear doesn’t magically go away, Scott.  We all know that.”

He was saved from answering by the swish of the door opening again.  He glanced over, wondering who it could be when he hadn’t heard any Thunderbirds come in to land.  Brains and the Mechanic were the only others on the island, and while it wasn’t unusual for Brains to check up on the infirmary, Scott didn’t want the Mechanic near him in his current condition.

It wasn’t the Mechanic. It wasn’t Brains, either – or MAX, for that matter.

“h’Oh, you’re h’awake!” Parker said with a surprised but delighted grin as he fumbled his way into the room carrying a tray laden with food.  “h’I was just bringing food for Mrs Tracy…” he trailed off, but continued to approach the bed.

“Parker, you shouldn’t have,” Grandma smiled, releasing one of Scott’s hands to move the rebreather off of the bedside table.  The older man set the tray down before stepping up to Scott’s side.  He didn’t reach for him, keeping his hands loosely behind his back, but sharp blue eyes raked him up and down.

“’Ow are you feeling?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m fine,” Scott replied, ignoring the eye roll from his grandmother, who clearly didn’t agree with his assessment.  Aside from some token weariness, which he knew was normal after a spell of time unconscious, he really did feel perfectly fine.  Even his rib wasn’t bothering him.

“h’I suppose that’s because you’re h’on the good stuff,” Parker shrugged, making Scott pause.  He should have realised that, especially after all the trouble his ribs had given him on the mission.  The temptation was there to ask how badly his recovery had been set back, but that would have just given Grandma even more ammunition to stay in bed. Besides, he’d be told eventually. Of more immediate interest was Parker’s unexpected visit.

“What brings you to the island, Parker?” he asked, glancing around the room again.  “I don’t see Lady Penelope around?”

“M’Lady’s in the lounge,” Parker told him.  “We came ‘ere to drop off the Centurion-21 fuel for Brains, but ‘eard h’about you and M’Lady requested to stay h’a while.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Grandma reminded him, and Scott smiled in agreement.  “Is she making any progress?”

“h’I couldn’t say for sure,” Parker shrugged.  “But I know M’Lady and Master John won’t stop h’until they get their way.”

Scott frowned.  Combined, John and Lady Penelope were an almost unstoppable force, but he couldn’t think of any reason for that tag-team, not right now.

“What are they doing?” he asked, because anything that big, he needed to know about.  Especially if working on that was a higher priority for John than checking in on him – John, the brother who was too used to sitting out of the loop and firmly inserted himself virtually into any situation with a brother operating at less than one hundred percent.  Scott knew he wasn’t at one hundred percent, not even by his own standards.

“Making sure today’s events never happen again,” Grandma answered, curling her hand back around his again.

Today’s events. The rescue?  Him being bitten?  That was all bad luck, how could they possibly ensure it never happened again? Although, he supposed, if anyone could, it would be the duo currently working on it.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Parker took it upon himself to explain.  “h’It transpires that the reason the ‘ospital ran h’out of h’antivenom was a funding problem,” he said, sounding somewhat unimpressed.  Scott didn’t blame him – whenever money was the problem, he found himself wanting to strangle whoever had decided lining their pockets was more important than human lives. “M’Lady h’is setting up a charity to make sure all ‘ospitals can ‘ave all the h’antivenoms they need.”  Admirable and welcome, but that didn’t explain John’s involvement.  He certainly hadn’t been needed in any of her past charity ventures.

“So what’s John doing?” he asked, hoping his brother was not ruining whoever had decided money was more important than lives.  It wouldn’t be the first time, and while Scott agreed that they deserved it, sometimes John could go a little too far.

“Arranging for International Rescue to have our own stock of all known antivenoms,” Grandma told him, squeezing his hands gently.  “We might not be able to stop spiders sneaking into our Thunderbirds, or you boys throwing yourselves in front of each other, but there is no reason why you should have had to suffer for an hour because you didn’t have the right antivenom on hand.”

That made sense, and Scott nodded his approval.  International Rescue did have a stock of common antivenoms, as well as everything they needed to deal with the local fauna on Tracy Island, but if they could broaden that, at least to the most dangerous venoms, it would only be a good thing.

It was also a typical John reaction – finding out why something had gone wrong and immediately finding a way to stop it happening again.  That, at least, told Scott that John was okay.  If he’d found a solution to the problem then he would be satisfied. No doubt Scott would find himself under close holographic scrutiny in the near future so John could see for himself that he really was fine, but with a solution the what-ifs wouldn’t be playing on his mind.

His other siblings would be less easily pacified.  He had no idea what Gordon knew, having not seen his water-loving brother at all that day thanks to a fishing trawler in trouble, but Virgil and Kayo would be kicking themselves black and blue, and Alan would be stuck in the what if I’d been too late loop.  Scott knew that feeling very well indeed.

He hadn’t yet decided if the fact that it had launched rather than exploded made the fact that he’d reached the Zero-X too late better or worse.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever decide.

“Still, I think we’d better let them know you’ve woken up,” Grandma said, releasing his hands.  “I won’t be long, so don’t even think about getting out of that bed, young man.”  She shared a look with Parker.  “If you’re hungry, see if you can eat some of that food Parker’s brought in.”  A gentle hand touched his cheek lightly before she stood up and left the room.

One look at Parker told him he wasn’t going to be going anywhere, especially when the man perched on the section of bed Grandma had just vacated.  Parker was the one he’d learnt many of his escaping tricks from – if there was one person that would see through them all, it was the butler.

“h’I wouldn’t be in too much of a ‘urry to h’escape, Master Scott,” the older man said, and Scott found himself relaxing back against the bed.  Master Scott.  It was his favourite of Parker’s ways of referring to him, but also the rarest.  He’d graduated to ‘Mr Scott’ after the Zero-X, the man’s acknowledgement that he was now the head of the family without using the dreaded Mr Tracy.  Parker never called him that, not even in public when the rest of the world insisted. Sir was a substitute when society demanded, and Scott always appreciated that.

Master Scott only came out when Parker was being fussy, and never with an audience.  Just like Grandma, he knew and accepted there was a front to be held in front of younger siblings – even if neither of them approved.  If he was Master Scott, he wasn’t expected to make any decisions or take on any of his father’s responsibilities.

“Some food?” the butler asked, gesturing to the tray.  It was homemade, but not by Grandma, and Scott would have to be far worse off to even consider declining that.  In answer, he reached for the toast, only for Parker to lightly touch his wrist and stop him. “You’ll get crumbs h’everywhere if you h’eat like that,” the older man scolded lightly.  “Stay still, there’s a good lad.”

The tray was relocated to his lap, and Scott tore into the offering as soon as Parker retracted his hands, to an amused chuckle from his companion.

“h’It’s not going anywhere, Master Scott,” Parker reminded him.

“He’s just trying to finish it before the others get home and want to share,” John commented, and Scott’s head jerked up to see his brother’s hologram materialise alongside him. He looked tired, not that that was an unusual occurrence over the past few weeks.  “You’re looking better, Scott.”

“I can’t imagine that’s hard,” he managed through a mouthful of food.  The last time he’d been aware of John’s presence, he’d been deep in the clutches of deadly venom.  If he’d looked half as had as he’d felt, it would have been an awful sight.  “How’s the campaign going?”

John pulled a face.  “They’re asking for money, which by itself isn’t a problem because I expected that, but they’re trying to charge us triple what they charge hospitals, and as Lady P’s working to get those rates reduced because they’re extortionate, I’m not letting them use our lives to line their pockets.”

Scott grimaced along with him.  Money grabbers were the worst.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked, because there was no way John was letting that slide.

“Persuading them that it’s better in their interest long-term to not try and bankrupt us,” John offered, a bemused look on his face.  “We could afford it, but if they think that they’ll be driving the prices up with every new shipment.  More realistically, I’m talking to Colonel Casey to see if the GDF can’t pull some weight. As they’re military and not private, the companies couldn’t charge them as much.  It would leave us needing the GDF’s good will for access, but we already know the GDF don’t dare put us out of business.”

It was Scott’s turn to pull a face.  He hated getting the GDF involved in anything; for as long as Colonel Casey was a dominant figure in the organisation International Rescue wouldn’t have any issues, but in the longer term he was brutally aware that she was their father’s generation.  At some point, she would be forced to retire and then they’d – he’d – have to handle the full force of the GDF without inside help.

Still, he trusted John and Colonel Casey.  Anything they implemented would be beneficial to International Rescue.

“Let me know what you come up with,” he requested, and John nodded, turquoise eyes briefly scanning across him.

“Alan and Kayo will be returning home in five minutes,” he told him.  “Do you want me to tell them you’re awake or let them find out for themselves when they check in?”

“Tell them once they’ve landed,” Scott decided.  “Virgil and Gordon, too – what’s their ETA?”

“They’re racing Thunderbird Three home,” John shrugged.  “But Thunderbird Three will win.”  Scott chuckled.  Alan somehow always won their races home, no matter how much further away he’d been.

“What are they betting this time?” he asked, and John grinned.

“Loser gets to be your slave for the week,” he said.

“Mine?”

“Well you’re not doing much on your own any time soon,” John told him matter-of-factly.  “Has Grandma given you the rundown?”  Scott blinked, pausing mid-bite.

“I thought I was supposed to be walking around with the ribs,” he ventured tentatively.  “But no, I haven’t been told what the damage is yet. Care to fill me in?”

John glanced away at something Scott couldn’t see.

“Your rib re-broke,” he started bluntly.  “Which I’m sure you’ve realised.  So that’s another six weeks grounded, and this time no-one’s sneaking you onto a Thunderbird before that’s up.”

“Six weeks?” Scott groaned.  John raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Well what did you expect?” he asked.  “Kayo filled us in on the mission details once you were stable.  You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“But-” Scott protested. “What about the mission to find Dad?” John shook his head.

“The new Zero-X will take longer that to construct,” he told him.  “Brains and the Mechanic finished the T-Drive while you were out in Brazil and we’ve got the fuel, so they’re going to test fire it tomorrow to make sure it’s all working before they start on the craft itself.”

“Tomorrow?” Scott asked. “If it’s ready why not today?”

“Even engineers need breaks sometimes, Scott,” John scolded lightly.  “They’ve been working almost non-stop for the past five weeks, which I know you know.”  There was a slightly accusatory tone at the end of his sentence, and Scott realised John knew how closely he’d started watching the two engineers.  “Besides, Grandma and Virgil won’t let you out of that bed for at least twenty four hours, and we all know you won’t be happy unless you see it for yourself.”

Well, they weren’t wrong.

“You still haven’t told me why I’m getting a slave for a week over a broken rib,” Scott realised, and John once again raised an eyebrow at him.

“You haven’t tried to get out of bed yet?”

“Don’t h’encourage ‘im, Master John,” Parker groaned.  “Mrs Tracy ‘ad to stop ‘im h’earlier and ‘e ‘asn’t ‘ad h’a chance since.”

“It was an hour before the antivenom reached you, Scott.  The damage doesn’t get miraculously fixed just because the venom’s gone,” John continued.  “Your blood pressure is still low so I’d wager you’ll probably pass out if you try to stand right now, no matter how ‘fine’ you feel, and we don’t yet know for sure if it’s done any damage to your heart.”

“My heart?”  The soft background beeping caught Scott’s attention and he turned his head to the EKG.  It was on, signalling that it was receiving data from wireless transmitters.  He put a hand to his chest; underneath the pyjamas he felt the tell-tale patches, leaving him with no doubt that it was his own heartbeat it was recording.  “Oh.” That was low.  Not dramatically so, but lower than his normal resting rate.

“It’s recovered reasonably well, but Grandma and Virgil still aren’t happy with it,” John told him. From his tone, it wasn’t only the family medics unhappy.  “I know you don’t like staying in bed, but unless you want to fall over and make your ribs worse, I would suggest you stay put.”

Scott scowled.

“You’re also recovering from dehydration, so drink up and leave that drip in,” Grandma added, walking back in with a large cup, complete with straw.  “I see there’s nothing wrong with your appetite,” she observed. Parker obligingly removed the now-empty tray away from Scott’s lap and stood so that she could sit back on the side of the bed.  “Drink.”

Obediently, he took the cup with both hands and sipped at the liquid, which revealed itself to be simply water.  A dull rumbling even through the soundproofing of the infirmary told him Thunderbird Three was back.  John confirmed that before signing off to talk to their returning siblings.

Scott made a note of the time, wondering how long it would take before he had visitors.

Three minutes later and the door slammed open to find Kayo and Alan shoulder-to-shoulder, clearly racing each other.

“No running in the house!” Grandma barked, but neither of them looked the least apologetic.  They did at least walk the distance from the door to his bed, where Grandma had slipped off to let them get closer.  Both stopped short, Alan fidgeting from foot to foot at he stared at him with open relief, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Come here,” he told his youngest brother, spreading his arms in demand of a hug.  As always, Alan needed no further invitation, crashing into him and wrapping his arms around him tightly, although it didn’t miss Scott’s attention that it wasn’t Alan’s usual rib-squeezing hug.  He appreciated that, curling his own arms around his brother’s shoulders.

Alan was trembling.  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he mumbled into Scott’s neck.  “I thought-”

“I’m still here, kid,” he interrupted quietly.  “And I hear I have you to thank for that.”  The sniffle he got in response told him it was Alan, the baby brother, rather than Alan the emergency responder he was dealing with.  “You did good.”

“I thought I was too late,” Alan mumbled, and there were tears against Scott’s skin.  He tightened his grip on his brother.  “You looked d-dead.  I d-didn’t think you were breathing.”

“I’m here and breathing,” Scott reminded him, letting him sob on his shoulder as long as he needed, rubbing the neoprene – both siblings were still in uniform – underneath his hand reassuringly.  He remembered the same reaction after EOS had first made herself known to them, only that time it had been John Alan had clung to in tears, post-adrenaline rush. They needed to stop putting their lives in Alan’s hands like that.

But Alan would settle, barring the new nightmare fuel that never went away, once he’d let out the initial emotions.  It was either a blessing of youth, or a coping strategy he’d been forced to employ too young. Kayo, who was watching with unguarded relief across her face, was like John; pragmatic and level-headed.  A serious conversation would settle her, although when she met his eyes, he linked his hands together behind Alan’s back and made them flutter, shooting her a quick grin.

The resulting glower she sent him didn’t hide the softening in her eyes, or the way her shoulders slumped. Satisfied for the moment, he returned his attention to his youngest brother, who seemed content to stay where he was.  Scott let him, nodding at Parker when the older man gestured that he was going to leave the room.

No sooner was Parker gone than Gordon burst through the door, Virgil hot on his heels.

“Scott!”  Gordon skidded to a stop just behind Alan, reaching out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder where he could.  “Don’t do that again,” he demanded, amber eyes flicking to the EKG for a split second before he found some space to perch on the bed behind Alan.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Scott shot back.  Gordon grinned.

“I won’t if you don’t,” he said.  “Deal?”

“Deal.”

They couldn’t really promise that, not in their profession, but Scott saw something lift behind Gordon’s eyes, the banter regardless doing something to reassure him.  Gordon had always used humour to cope.

Four siblings down, or at least addressed, and one to go.  Somehow, Scott didn’t think a hug or joke would work quite so well on Virgil. Guilt was deep-set in brown eyes, but Virgil didn’t look at him directly, focusing on the EKG and drip as he bustled around.

“Virgil,” he said, pulling one hand away from Alan to catch his brother’s arm the moment Virgil got in reach. It was the arm with the needle in it, bright band aid stark against his skin.  Virgil’s eyes focussed on it and Scott sighed, tightening his grip on the neoprene beneath his fingers.  “Look at me.” He couldn’t do much, not while Alan was still clinging to him, but hell if he was going to let Virgil shut himself away and stew in a self-inflicted puddle of misplaced guilt.

Virgil stilled, but didn’t obey.  Scott closed his eyes and sighed again, squeezing Alan lightly.  The blond snuffled but didn’t otherwise move.

“Virgil.”  That was John’s voice, his final brother reappearing holographically at the foot of Scott’s bed.  The middle brother ignored him, too.

“Kid, your brother’s talking to you,” Grandma chipped in.  “At least have the manners to look at him.”  Despite the words, there was no scolding in her tone, just a quiet encouragement.  Virgil glanced up at her, and a look passed between them that Scott couldn’t see before Virgil slowly turned to face him.

“Thank you,” he said before Virgil could apologise, or say something else nonsensical.  Whatever his brother had been gearing up for, it clearly wasn’t that; he blinked, startled, before opening his mouth to probably-protest. “I know it was Alan that got the antivenom, but you’re the one that kept me alive long enough to get it.”

“I’m the reason you needed it in the first place!” Virgil snapped, looking away again.  “If I’d paid more attention… if I-”

“If nothing,” Scott interrupted, conscious that they had an audience but unable to ask anyone to leave.  He wanted his family there, with him, and knew they were all busy reassuring themselves that he was going to be fine.  “You’d have done the same thing if our positions were reversed, except I’m not as good as you with all the medical stuff.”

“You’d have done enough,” Virgil mumbled, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“And you did enough,” he returned.  “No what-ifs, Virgil.”  Hell knew he’d told himself that enough through the years, with varying levels of success.

Virgil at least met his eyes again, even though Scott could see it wasn’t enough to lift the guilt. That would take much longer, including him making a full recovery and a conversation without the rest of the family listening in, intentionally or not.

“You’re staying in that bed,” he said instead, and Scott made a grumbling noise of protest.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied.  “I can’t say I’m happy about it, but John made quite the compelling argument.”

“Does this mean you’ll listen to me for once?” John asked disbelievingly, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean, for once?” Scott asked.  “I listen to you!”

“When it suits you,” John rebuked.  “I have a list, if you’d care to hear it.”

Scott wouldn’t put it past John to actually have a list.  He turned his attention back to his other brothers without responding, to an amused noise from the space monitor, and gave Alan a grin as the youngest finally pulled back from his shoulder, eyeing him with teary blue eyes.

“I’ll sit on you if you try and get up,” the youngest told him firmly, look somewhat ruined by those eyes. Gordon laughed.

“Alan, you’re a twig.”

“Am not, fishboy!”

“Are, too!”

“Not!”

“Boys,” Kayo interrupted, taking a few steps closer to the cluster on the bed.  With one arm now free, Scott reached for her and got a light hug at his silent request.  It didn’t last long, but it was enough for the rest of the tension to leave her shoulders before she stepped back, out of his reach again.

“Hey, where’s my hug?” Gordon demanded, and Scott raised an eyebrow at him.

“You want a hug, you’ve got to come get it yourself,” he said.  “I’m not moving.”

Permission gained, Gordon shoved Alan out of the way, the younger falling off the bed with a squawk of indignation, and wrapped himself around Scott.  It was far looser than his usual hugs, but out of all his brothers, Gordon was best at gauging what an injured person could take.  Scott rested his chin on his shoulder, feeling the dampness of the neoprene that betrayed that Gordon had been in the water during his mission.

Tension drained out of his aquanaut brother’s powerful shoulders and Scott found himself relaxing as well.  He’d always found it easiest to relax and wind down when his brothers were okay, and with three out of four openly reassured, his own nerves were less on edge.

“I’m still sorry,” Virgil said after a moment.  Scott still had hold of his bicep, and glanced up at him as he spoke.  That pain and guilt was still there in brown eyes, but it was Gordon and Alan that Virgil was looking at.  A big brother himself, he too was being drawn into some sort of reassurance by the youngest two calming down.

There were many responses Scott could give, and maybe later once it was just the two of them he’d dive deeper in if Virgil hadn’t managed to settle himself and needed a stronger release, but in that moment, with his family around him and the knowledge that whatever happened next, they’d survived this hurdle, there was only one thing to say.

“I know.”

Surprised brown eyes met his, as though Virgil had expected another rebuke, another it’s not your fault, but Scott knew better.  He didn’t blame Virgil at all, but it wasn’t his forgiveness Virgil needed; his brother needed to forgive himself for his perceived transgressions, and that he couldn’t do as long as Scott stayed stubborn.  He tugged at the bicep in his grip, coaxing Virgil closer with an inviting smile.

Virgil hesitated, understanding but unsure.  Scott didn’t say anything else, didn’t push harder, but then Grandma put a hand on Virgil’s other arm and whatever remaining fight there was seeped away.

It was Gordon’s turn to squawk as he found himself nudged out of the way, but he went willingly, surrendering the space to Virgil as Scott’s dark-haired brother wrapped his arms around him cautiously.

“I’m okay,” Scott murmured into his brother’s ear, returning the hug as fiercely as he could.  Like Alan before him, Virgil shook ever so slightly under his touch, but unlike the youngest, no tears were shed.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Virgil mumbled.  “You stopped breathing for a minute just before Alan arrived and I thought that was it.”

“I heard you,” Scott admitted, just as quietly.  “I don’t think I’d have had the strength to keep fighting without you.  Alan might have got the antivenom, but you saved me, too.”

Virgil gave a shuddering breath and his arms tightened, just a little.

They stayed like that for several minutes, Scott managing to relax further now that was the fifth and final sibling’s immediate concerns addressed, but eventually Virgil pulled back, the ghost of a smile on his face.  He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, Gordon crashed into him.

“Group hug!” he declared, reaching out to snag Alan and pinning an unprotesting Virgil in place as Scott’s three youngest brothers gathered as close as they could for a tangle of arms and bodies on Scott’s bed.  Alan flailed in Kayo’s direction and the woman stepped closer, slipping an arm delicately around the back of Scott’s neck and more tightly around Alan.  Scott grinned at her before looking past the mass of brothers to lock eyes with the one he couldn’t reach.  John grinned back at him, and even though he wasn’t physically there, Scott didn’t need it to know his immediate brother was just as relieved.

The hug lasted until Grandma intervened, suggesting that they let him have a little bit of space. He didn’t need space, but they all heard the underlying reminder that he was in that bed for a reason.  After that, it was back to business as usual, his on-Earth siblings scattering to change on Grandma’s order and reconvening later in their civvies with various forms of entertainment while John went back to his latest project.

Lady Penelope poked her head in later, but he didn’t see Brains – or the Mechanic – until the next day.

“I-it’s time to t-test the T-Drive e-engine,” the engineer told him the next morning, after checking him over in his own desire for reassurance; there was some guilt there as well, for pushing him out on the rescue, but thankfully Brains was much easier to calm than his brothers – the fact that Brains hadn’t seen him almost dead helped.

“Give me five,” he said, reaching for the drip stuck in his arm.

“Make that ten, Brains,” Virgil rumbled, catching Scott’s hand.  “Scott’s not up to walking even if he thinks he is.”

Scott groaned, but Virgil raised an eyebrow at him.

“I thought John made a convincing argument for you to stay in bed?” he challenged, and Scott shrugged.

“That was yesterday.”

“And your heart rate still isn’t back to normal, so it’s the hoverchair or nothing,” Virgil rebuked, rolling his eyes.

Scott sighed but dutifully held out his arm for Virgil to remove the drip instead.

“No, that’s coming with you,” Virgil corrected, gently pushing it down to his side again.  “Just the EKG.”  The machine was turned off, but Virgil made no move to relieve him of the transmitters, telling Scott that it was being linked back up later. Wonderful.  “Now then, let’s get you out of this bed-”

Scott leaned forwards and swung his legs around, placing them on the floor and pushing himself to his feet.

“Woah!”  Virgil sprinted around the bed and caught him as his vision fuzzed.  “John’s compelling argument?”  Scott was vaguely aware of being shifted around as the world spun around him, but it was a surprise to find himself in the hoverchair by the time he was fully aware of his surroundings again.  Usually, Virgil would dump him straight back in bed.

“Okay, John’s compelling argument still holds,” he admitted, leaning against the back of the chair and closing his eyes briefly as the world tried to spin a little more.

“Let’s get going,” Virgil sighed.  “Hands off the controls; I’m steering.”  Scott grumbled, but had no doubt that the controls had actually been disabled.  “As soon as the test is over, you’re coming straight back.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” he asked, and Virgil chuckled.

“Not at all.”

They were last to the balcony; it didn’t escape Scott’s notice that the Mechanic was the other end to the rest of them, talking quietly to Brains but otherwise ignoring the Tracys. That suited Scott just fine; if the test worked, he was well aware he owed the man an apology for his accusations of sabotage.  Although maybe he’d keep that back until the Zero-X2 launched successfully and Dad was home. Just in case.

“You look pale,” Grandma commented.  “Did he try to stand up?” she asked Virgil.  Scott glowered as Virgil rolled his eyes in answer.

“What do you think?” he asked rhetorically.  “He didn’t pass out entirely, otherwise the test would be happening without him, whether he liked it or not, but it was close.”

“He is right here,” Scott grumbled.

“And he’s going to keep his mouth shut and drink this up,” Grandma informed him, pressing a cup of water, complete with straw, into his hands.  “You shouldn’t be out of bed at all, young man.”

“T-test is ready,” Brains announced before Scott could find a retort that wouldn’t get him taken straight back to the infirmary.  “I-igniting T-Drive in three, two, one.”

Without binoculars, it was difficult to see what was happening on the platform, but nothing exploded and after several moments all that could be seen or heard was the whining of an engine.  It was higher pitched than the engines Scott was used to, but there were none of the warning noises suggesting that something was wrong.

Beside him, Virgil sighed in relief while Gordon and Alan whooped.

“C-cutting engine,” Brains called, and it powered down easily.  Smooth as any of the best plane engines Scott had piloted – and he’d piloted many.

It had worked.  They had a T-Drive engine.

They could go find Dad.

“Scott?”  Virgil sounded worried, and he opened his eyes – when he had closed them? – to look up at his worried brother.  Alan and Gordon hovered nearby, and he looked at them all in turn, even John’s silent hologram – his ginger brother hadn’t been there when the test had started, hadn’t been expected after he pointed out their holotech’s range didn’t reach that far.  “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?  He had a broken rib, was recovering from a near-fatal spider bite and its side effects of dehydration, bradycardia and hypotension, and the man who had almost killed his brothers multiple times was standing the other end of the same balcony.

But they were one step, one significant step closer to Dad.

“Yeah,” he said, staring out past them, at the platform cradling the most important engine International Rescue had ever created.  For the first time since that horrid trash mine day five weeks earlier, he could honestly say, “I’m okay.”

Fin

[chaotic-lesbian-things]

Announcement - ‘Star Wars: Inheritance’

Hey there! 

Due to the extremely disappointment sequel trilogy I have decided that I’m starting a project called ‘Star Wars: Inheritance’ which is me attempting to answer the question “What if Disney and Lucasfilms actually cared about the fans instead of just milking them for money?” Help is required, artists, fans, beta readers, beta writers, alpha writers (co-authors), illustrators, website managers etc. Scroll down for more. You can leave ‘permanent’ roles whenever you want.

PLOT IDEA:-

The story will be primarily posted on Archive Of Our Own, and will be divided into ‘seasons’, like a web series like The Clone Wars (only written instead of animated). The series will pick up 5 years after Return Of The Jedi, featuring characters from the Original Trilogy (eg: Han, Luke, Leia) and Sequel Trilogy (Ben Solo, Rey, Poe Dameron, Finn etc.) but with context. Cameos by Rebels, The Clone Wars, the Prequel trilogy and  the novels will also be made.

The ending will be a happy one with the force being balanced, open threads from all of canon closed, a fitting fairytale ending after a lot of suffering, adventure, angst and character growth. Each character will have its arc although the protagonists remain the same. The story will end sometime around  TFA/TROS. Several time jumps will be made.

NOTE:-

This is a story to be written by fans. A personal attempt to heal and a bold statement to poor filmmakers who have destroyed a fairytale started 43 years ago. But, most importantly, this is a story for all of the people who work on it as well as read it to enjoy. It provides us closure that canon couldn’t.

ROLES:-

1. Plot Pitchers:

Requirements: Extensive knowledge of canon and/or Legends (EU). Preferable access to novels.

This role is an attempt to make it as canon as possible. More canon than canon. Mention of sources (Wookiepedia links) would be helpful, but not necessary.

Even if you aren’t very proficient with the above but you feel like you have good ideas, DM me. You will be credited. If you simply have a good idea but don’t want to be involved in the long run, just message it to me.

2. Artists/ Illustrators:

Requirements: to be a digital artist/illustator

Concept art has been selected, digital artists required.

The kind of work includes drawing certain scenes from the story, as well as the headers/ covers for it. You can choose what you want to.

This is not a permanent commitment, unless you want it to be. THERE IS NO MONEY INVOLVED (because the initiator is a broke minor). 

If you want to be involved for the long run, dm me.

3. Video Editors/ manip creators:

Requirements: Video editing software, Video editing skills

Things like the opening scrawl of each season, small 10-30 sec (more if you can manage) videos of the characters (in later seasons) etc.  Please DM me if you are interested.

4. Beta Reader:

Requirements: basic grammatical skills

Each chapter will be needed to be read and suggestions can be made.

5. Social Media Account managers:

Requirements: Tumblr, Instagram or twitter. (other social media are welcome but not compulsory)

You need to create a new account on the web platforms. These accounts will share/rt/rb/post everything about this project. The Account name is to be ‘Star Wars: Inheritance’. dm if interested.

6. Website creator/manager:

Requirements: knowledge on creating a website. Managing it.

Starwarsinheritance.com? Starwarsinheritance.net? 

For more details, please dm me.

7. Co writer(s):

Requirements: Writing skills. Experience with Ao3. Team spirit. 

At max, two more people are needed. The work load can get too much for one author to produce quality chapters every week. The contents need to be agreed by all the authors. We’ll try our best to include all points.

Please apply for this role if you are REALLY serious about this. DM me.

8. Beta Writer:

Requirements: Writing skills. Experience with Ao3. Team spirit. 

You can add your own two cents to it but it will need to be approved by the main writers before being published.

NOTES #2:-

If you DM me I will provide you with the relevant information, and a link to the discord server where we will discuss this in detail. 

If you are in for permanent roles, please be committed to this. This fic needs 20 min to 3 hours or more of your time every week depending on your role, and it could possibly go on for a year or more. If at some point you need to quit, issue a notice so we can find someone else.

As of now, there is no money involved in any way. This could change, but right now all you get is personal gratification, comments, kudos and hits.

This is not an overnight project, it will need at least a month’s work before publishing, after our team has assembled. 

The first responders will get the role, as this needed to start 200+ days ago (after TROS).

Lastly, I realise that this is a very demanding project for which you could possibly never get paid. This is an attempt to rekindle a dying fandom which was fanned too fast and hard by corporate gold-diggers a.k.a Disney/lf. 

This was a glorious fandom before it was divided and ruined. save your story, save your fandom. Please spread the message.

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

FICS: PROPOSTE INDECENTI + AMO GIA’ IL FINALE

I posted these on AO3 back in January. And I really wanted to have something brand new for today, but I am trying as hard as I can to have the fairy tale AU finished by tomorrow, so... Hope you’ll like them! They are BOTH IN ENGLISH ;) !!

PROPOSTE INDECENTI Seconds  

10 - 9

The longest ten seconds of his whole fucking life. Maybe Niccolò really is considering turning it down, given the time and setting.

3 a.m. McDonald's. Sitting on plastic chairs. Lazily eating cold fries and a hamburger that tastes like cardboard with one hand, stroking each other's thumbs with the other. Feeling like the last men on Earth, in a deserted place that would normally be buzzing with life in the daytime.

He should have sticked to his plan, given him his scripted speech this Sunday at the Bioparco. But he didn't, and now...

 8-7

… now he's screwed, isn't he? He fucked it up, and Niccolò is going to carry on and pretend this has been nothing but a bad dream.

He couldn't help it, though. Not when Niccolò was glowing with pride and elation as he showed Martino his first - published, finally!! - illustrated book.

The one Nico had lovingly renamed 'our baby' - and damn if Marti's heart didn't skip a beat at that -  even though all he didn't do much but offer his moral support.

How was he supposed to resist?

 6-5

He looked more beautiful than ever, in an old tracksuit and with a ridiculous headband holding his wild curls at bay. Buzzing with enthusiasm, while he told Marti about how Naima the giraffe who had her head too high in the clouds learnt from Mabel the red panda that she shouldn't fear what's in her heart. That her feelings are never too much, like so many others have been telling her.

Niccolò had always been very secretive about the plot, saying 'It's a surprise' with a mischievous glint in his eyes whenever Martino asked for more details… and right in that very moment he could see why.

"Children emotions tends to be heightened, and therefore often dismissed. I hope this can tell them that they matter, you know? That they're gonna find someone willing to listen, someday. Just like I found you."

It was their story. Edited, tweaked but still the same at its core. Shared to offer some hope to whoever might need it.

How could he not stop Niccolò right there and fumble for the box in his bag?

 4-3

Flinging it into his hands and dropping on one knee felt too predictable and cheap, however.

"I… I think I'm gonna get a milkshake. Would you like me to get you anything? An ice-cream cone? A Flurry?" Then, raising a voice a couple of octaves to make it sound childlike he adds "A Happy Meal?"

"Ahah. You're so funny, have you ever considered a career as a stand-up comedian? Get me a Happy Meal, you ass." And he would have sucked on that raised middle finger, without any shame, had it been a night like any other.

But it wasn't.

 2

Niccolò kept on gloating, until he opened the Happy Meal. His face fell, indeed, when he found the giraffe and red panda wooden figurines connected through a red silk thread and carrying a ring.

Ebony black, like his hair. Adorned with amber and aventurine, which both reminded Martino of his eyes.

Eyes which were now boring into him with a mixture of confusion and… disappointment?

Not exactly the reaction he had been wishing for. The silence between them felt a bit uncomfortable, for the first time in maybe ever, but Martino forced himself to speak.

"I know that I told you, so many times and in so many ways, that nobody knows a fucking thing about what's gonna happen tomorrow but... I am certain about ONE thing and ONE thing only: that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, as your HUSBAND. Don't you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?"

"That's two things, Marti. Maybe even three. I believe so… but let me just have ten seconds to think it through, okay?"

 1

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. " He finally says. Each yes said before a kiss, his smile getting brighter and brighter as they both start crying. Tears they brush away with gentle fingertips, with soft lips.

"A thousand times yes, Marti." Niccolò reiterates, resting his forehead against his fiancé's. Not an old fashioned to say 'boyfriend' when you significant one is not exactly a boy anymore, but the real deal now.

Fiancé. Betrothed. Soon to be husband. He can't wait to refer to Martino using those term with friends, colleagues, guests, relatives. With all those random people he ends up talking to while queuing up at the post office - on the bus, on the train, on the subway. The whole world needs to know, and he is certain that Marti feels like the same.

"Once is more than enough."

-----------

   Minutes  

It still doesn’t feel real, even though he has had some minutes to let it sink in. Despite the weight of the ring dangling from his necklace - "how very Frodo of you…" "Are you calling your future husband a fucking hobbit, Mr Rametta?" - and his proposal still echoing in his ears, he fears he might wake up any minute now. Alone.

He has to take refuge in Marti’s arms, grounding himself in his warm and tight embrace. Nothing can touch him, when he’s there. Nothing can reach him, apart from Martino’s smell and the palpable solidity of his body.

"I can take it back, if you’d like." Marti mumbles, against his helix piercing.

"Don’t you dare!" Niccolò protests, first jabbing his ribs with his forefinger and then flicking his nose.

"I mean… you don't sound positively thrilled about it…" He points out, puzzled to hear Niccolò chuckle.

"Well, we're talking about spending the rest of my life with the most boring gay I've ever met…" Nico sighs dramatically, but then he gets dreadfully serious. He is so overjoyed, so full of love he could burst, and Martino better not end up thinking otherwise. "I couldn't be happier… You know that, right? I simply wanted to be the one to propose."

"Well, maybe you still can. Fifteen or twenty years from now, when we'll feel like renewing our vows or some shit…" Martino suggests, standing up and cleaning their table. They must go now, if they want to have some time left to spare to celebrate home before heading out again to work.

"Sounds lovely. You have such a way with words, Marti." Niccolò shoves him playfully, but files that piece of information into a secured corner of his brain. Might come in handy, in the future. "And how do you know about renewals, anyway? Don't tell me you've been bingewatching 'Say Yes To The Dress' on RealTime!"

"Whaaat? Me? Nope. Never. Must have heard something from Filo. Or was it Edo?"

*************

AMO GIA’ IL FINALE

Hours  

Hours have gone by. It took them twice longer than usual to reach their flat, unable to walk more than a few steps without stopping for a quick peck. Or a full on make out session against a couple of closed, sturdy, doors.

Clothes were discarded on the floor as soon as they stepped inside, and they had made love until dawn. Exhausted, by then, they had fallen asleep.

Fear has had time to come knocking, and with it the painful reminder that people always leave. Or get sick of each other, and stay together only to keep up appearances.

No. That's not gonna happen. Not to them. Not when they are perfectly aware that gonna have to make a promise to each other not only on that day… but every second, every minute, every hour they spend together. Or apart.

Not necessarily with words. Which little gestures, too. Cherish their love. Never take it for granted.

"I promise you that we can make it. From now, to infinity." Martino says, softly, as he lays a kiss on Niccolò chest. Right where his heart is, just like Nico did so many years before under those red lights.

"To infinity and beyond."

"Don't start quoting Toy Story when I'm trying to be deep, Ni."

"It doesn't suit you. Now, up up up. Put something on and come with me... I don't want to miss watching the sunrise and cuddling with my betrothed on my cozy balcony."

"You are unbelievable."

"And you love that."

"I sure do, don't I?"

   Imagination  

This is absolutely not what Niccolò or Martino had in mind.

The unnecessary opulence, the stifling atmosphere in spite of the marvelous outdoor venue.

"It's not like you had a clear picture of what you wanted, anyway." Anyone would argue, and they would be right.

It had been easy enough to picture it back in Milan, where having a wedding in their birthday suits had sounded like the coolest idea he had ever had… But now Nico can't really see how that would go down, can't imagine it wouldn't be a complete catastrophe.

Like any other scenario they came up with. Some are too over the top, and would make Martino feel uncomfortable. Some are too dull, and would be an ill match to Niccolò's eccentricity.

Someone had to take the matter into their hands, and it wasn't like Silvia had done a bad job with the very little input she had from the grooms.

Maybe they could settle for this?

***************

   Instinct  

Or maybe not.

Martino refused to make this day, their day, about anyone else but themselves.

His in-laws were probably going to hate him for this, as firm believers of a time and a place for spontaneity, and their own friends were surely going to hold it against them for the next fifty years or so… but who cared?

Not him. Not when he was witnessing the first real smile of the week from Niccolò, merely by showing up on his old bike.

"Get on." It took him some fumbling, since a tight fitting tuxedo wasn't really the best attire for riding a bike, but eventually he managed to sit comfortably behind Martino.

"Where are we going?" He asked, presuming to be filled in about Marti's plan for the next few hours.

"Wherever the fuck we want." Martino said, instead, refusing to tell Niccolò anything concerning their destination. Or what they would do, once they reached it.

It didn't take too long to get to a church that Niccolò knew all too well. He had often joked about getting married in its crypt, surrounded by skulls and chandeliers made of human bones. Too bad it was hardly ever opened to the public, and totally unavailable for any kind of celebration.

"And how exactly are you planning to get in?" He inquired, walking over to the locked door.

"I might have asked Filippo to make me a copy of the key, when he got one for his photography project. Off the record." Because he knew Niccolò would love to stroll through the building undisturbed. Taking in its macabre allure, appreciating the fleeting nature of his own existence.

"Uh… Martino Rametta breaking the law by owning something he's not supposed to? A man after my own heart, I must say."

"I thought I already had it. Your heart, I mean." He commented, offhandedly, as he cursed and kicked against the rusty old door. "Oh, come on! Jesus! You were working just fine last time!"

"And this wonderful hint of blasphemy, right in front of a church. Wow." Niccolò reached out for him, then, pinning his open palm onto his own chest. "You're not mistaken, by the way. This has been yours for years."

"Same here." Marti turned to take his hand, and l let him feel how fast his heart was beating.

And then, as Marti was leaning in for a kiss, Nico moved back and brazenly snatched the keys.

"You know I've got the magic touch. Don't know whether it's in the fingers on in the wrists…"

"You better leave those innuendo at the door, Ni."

"Or what? You'll punish me, Father? You'll drag me into one of the confessionals and…"

… and he might had been tempted to do that, to drop on his knees and worship this man… Before he was basically challenged to reign in his wildest fantasies. Oh, he knew Niccolò wouldn't even try to play fair but still… He was so going to win this.

******

   Memory  

"... and then?" The kids asked, trying to get Mr. David's attention.

"Mh?" He had been distracted by an old lady coming to congratulate him on finally tying the knot a couple of weeks before. Shoelaces were a challenge for anyone, indeed, so it made sense he got praised for achieving that goal… Even though it took him so many years.

And that hadn't been the only interruption. For same weird reason their parents kept butting in to tell them shouldn't bother Mr. Fares. Or his 'partner'. They don't say 'husband', for some reason. Despite it being the word David uses for Michelangelo.

Grown up are so, so dumb.

"You ran away from your own wedding, got to a spooky church… and then? What happened?"

"Did you find a body and have to solve a murder?"

"I'm afraid not. We walked inside, and I read him my vows. He gave me his. I can show them to you, if you'd like? I always carry them in my pocket." Most didn't quite understand what was so great about two stick figures on a badly drawn giraffe, but the words written on the side sounded nice. Especially the closing line.

 Per quanta strada abbiam fatto, e per quanta  ancora ce n'è da fare… Amo già il finale.

"Booooring! I bet you went back to the ranch for the actual ceremony, after that?"

"Wrong. Remember that I started telling you all about this day because Meni asked what was the biggest prank I've ever pulled on my friends and family… That's it: making them all believe they would see US getting married and then have two other people saying 'I do' that afternoon. And this day I'm still quite proud I could pull that off. And so is my husband. I mean, our old folks were THIS close to believe we had been kidnapped."

Impressive. Kind of. Perhaps grown up can be cool, once in a blue moon?

"Ni? Nico? Earth to Niccolò Fares?" Not fair! He was a grown up! Why was he getting sweets before dinner?

"Yeah yeah, I can hear you loud and clear Marti." He gulped down his candies in a heartbeat.  And then gave him a quick kiss, saying "Thanks, love."

Huh? Nico? Marti? Then why their moms - and a couple of their dads - referred to him as Michelangelo's David?

Grown ups are so, so weird.

[itsclydebitches]

I hope you don't mind; but one thing I've noticed in RWBY is that they want to do these really hard hitting and serious problems... but not commit to it. It's almost as if they're afraid of doing it, but they need it for the story, so they keep it in. But, of course, they mess it up for a lot of viewers. (I honestly watch RWBY through your metas now; I don't think I can watch it if they don't have a satisfying reasoning for all of the strange things happening.)

You hit the nail on the head. And in terms of that commitment, I’m not even sure they realize how much the things they introduce should impact a story, whether they’re inclined to actually do that work or not. RWBY may have started out as a “rule of cool” action show focused on crafting scenarios for epic fight scenes, but it very quickly became a character driven show that now balances time between ten protagonists. That creates a staggering number of threads that the audience expects the story to follow. If, say, Qrow tells Oscar that he’s not worth anything as an individual then as two people who continue to live and work with each other we expect that thread to go somewhere and (eventually) reach some sort of logical end. Will Qrow apologize? Will someone else call him out on that? Will Oscar reach a breaking point and get angry? There are any number of directions the thread can go in, but it has to go somewhere. RWBY is a show where we’re not given conclusions because---to continue the iffy metaphor---these threads are cut. Qrow says that to Oscar and then that’s it. Scene’s done. Why would it connect to anything else? And then new threads appear out of nowhere. Qrow doesn’t drink anymore. What? Why? What’s changed? How’s that going? Literally where did that come from? We’re constantly following these threads only to suddenly realize they were cut episodes back and we’re supposed to be paying attention to these other threads that just randomly appeared. Add in the fact that most threads that are concluded nowadays are concluded badly (the group facing no consequences) and it’s just an all around mess. 

To be perfectly clear and candid though this shit is hard. It’s so hard!!! And yes, practical issues like time constraints make things that much harder. I’m working on a Big Bang at the moment and I had grand plans for this story only to admit (literally this morning lol) that right now I don’t have the time or ability to craft a story that needs at least 50,000 words to be decent, so I have to try and edit things to fit new parameters. So threads of my own are going to be cut simply by virtue of having introduced characters/concepts designed for a novella length work, now being forced into about 20,000 words. A part of me is very sympathetic to Rooster Teeth’s plight of introducing ideas that are just too big for their britches, due to whatever reason that may be (time, talent, whatever) because I’m that writer too. At the same time though, I post fic knowing that readers may very well come away from it thinking, “This needed a lot of work” because it does. I recognize that. And they have every right to walk away from/criticize it (ignoring for the moment fandom social norms of not roasting free content). So I’m constantly torn between acknowledging that in some respects Rooster Teeth may well be trying their best in an incredibly difficult craft... but nevertheless, from a writing perspective they’re still not producing a satisfying product. Which is ultimately, to my mind, the larger takeaway. 

[lilfellasblog]

‘Cause If We’re Talking Bodies (You’ve Got a Perfect One) P.1 - Patton’s 2019 Birthday Fic!

Summary: Patton loves his boyfriends so much!! He just wish he had more to offer.

OML I accidentally missed Patton’s Name Reveal Day by two months!!! Patton, I’m so sorry, I love you and you deserve better! Here’s a little fic for you!! This first chapter turned into plot by accident, and the second half is just smut. Slightly kinky, sweet smut. That’s it. Enjoy the plot while it lasts! :3

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience. Tumblr ate most of my fics that I know I posted here, which makes me very sad for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being that the love and comments and tags that folks showed this fic is gone into the ether.

TW: Body insecurity, kissing, mentions of sex, negative self-talk, crying, and LAMP sex almost happens in this chapter. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 2424

Part 2 here!

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Patton stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was the Side that encompasses Thomas’ eating habits, and they could honestly use some work. Last night, he’d devoured half a pizza and several Krispy Kreme donuts for dinner, and looked at the raw cookie dough in the fridge as a late-night snack.

It’s all your fault he feels bad about his eating and his body. Just look at you!

Patton’s eyes burned as he took in his appearance. Stretch marks decorated the sides of his stomach and thighs, and his stomach was definitely rounded. His arms were chubby, and his thighs chafed if he didn’t make sure his pants were securely belted up. He’d even slept wrong, and now his shoulder hurts!

He’d had to comfort Thomas while editing the latest Awkward Adventures video about going into a sensory deprivation tank. When the time came to edit Thomas’ reaction to the experience, they’d both broken down into tears. Patton stuffed his feelings down quickly so he could rise up and comfort Thomas. Thomas ended up deciding to not show his body at all.

Patton hugged his middle as he allowed himself his pre-breakfast cry. Soon, too soon, his alarm went off. Time to get breakfast ready!

Patton cleaned up his face in his bathroom and threw on his day clothes. They were so tight, he hated how tight they were, they left red marks on his body where the hems and elastic dug in. He used to wear his clothes looser, but then he’d gotten into a relationship with the other three core Sides over a year ago. They deserved someone with a better body. Despite his lingering sadness, he smiled at the memory. It had been Logan to confess one morning that he was in love with them and that repressing those feelings was causing him significant enough distress to impair his functioning. Patton and Roman had quickly confessed after that, followed by a soft, shy admission from Virgil.

His phone brought him back out of his thoughts. Oh rats, I’m late!! Stupid, airhead Patton! Can’t do anything right!! Patton sniffled back tears as he bolted from his room and downstairs. Thankfully, no one was up yet. He quickly started a pot of coffee and grabbed pancake mix.

Blueberries or chocolate chip? Blueberries or chocolate chip? Come ON Patton, make up your mind!

Patton grabbed the chocolate chips and folded them in with the pancake batter. He quickly grabbed some breakfast sausages and eggs, started heating up the breakfast sausages, and started scrambling the eggs. Once he had the eggs going at a low enough temperature with butter and milk, he started scooping pancakes onto a flat griddle. Careful to watch the pancakes, he whipped the eggs so they were aerated and fluffy, then just as they were almost done, he seasoned them with paprika, a pinch of salt, some pepper, and a bit of garlic. He switched between the eggs and pancakes, and soon he had a large pile of both ready.

Patton quickly set the table as he heard the other three Sides come down the stairs. Come on, this is the LEAST you can do for forcing them to be in a relationship with you, you disgusting-

“Hey Pat, smells great,” Virgil mumbled as he walked in.

“Well thanks kiddo! I do my best!” Patton chirped. Virgil grunted in acknowledgment and sleepily filled his mug with coffee. Patton tried to not let his heart break. He’s just tired, I know Virgil loves my cooking!

Maybe he would if you weren’t trying to get him as fat as you.

I”m not!

Oh? Is that why you put butter in the eggs? And chocolate chips in the pancakes? This entire meal is unhealthy, and you couldn’t even manage to swap out candy for fruit? No wonder they barely tolerate you.

Patton bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t show any negative emotion. Logan and Roman entered the kitchen moments later.

“Salu-”

“GREETINGS WONDERFUL CITIZENS!!”

“-tations,” Logan finished dryly.

Patton forced a giggle. “Greetings and salutations to you too!”

Logan sent him a rare smile, one that made Patton question all over again why they were with him. Logan was the embodiment of the sexy professor and had a firm runner’s body, Virgil was edgy with an undercurrent of sweet that made his lithe body move in the filthiest of ways, and Roman… dear god, Roman was built like a hero prince. A single glance from any of them could make him swoon, and what did Patton have to offer? And unattractive, misshapen, chubby body. The least he could do was cook for them, and don’t get him wrong, he loved cooking! But he could never seem to do it right. It was never healthy enough, elegant enough, complex enough. Patton spent hours every day crying, trying to brace himself as best he could for the inevitable break up, where he’d be the singleton and the other three would finally be in a happy relationship. He didn’t want his heartbreak to affect Thomas too much.

“Ah, pancakes! In a chocolate chip mood, my perfect Patton?”

The unexpected comment caused Patton to burst into tears. He sees what you’re doing, he sees how gross you are, how you’re-

A hand started gently rubbing his back. “Shhhhh, Patton dear, tell us what’s wrong,” Logan soothed.

Patton sniffled in a weak attempt to stop his crying. I can’t tell them! “I j-just love you all s-so m-m-much a-and I have a l-lot of f-f-feelings!”

There! I didn’t lie!

Lie of omission.

Patton cried harder at failing his job as Morality. Some Side you are. Thomas would be better off without you. They’d all be better off without you. Roman came over and threaded his fingers into Patton’s hair, scratching at his scalp.

“Oh darling, goodness gracious,” Logan chuckled, “I love you too.”

Sounds of agreement came from around the kitchen, but the lies only made Patton more upset. Look at how much they have to lie just to not set you off!

“I-I’m sorry guys,” Patton whimpered, “I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m sorry I get so,” Patton’s bottom lip quivered as he sniffled, “emotional,” he finished in a broken voice.

“My sweet angel, that is one of the reasons we love you!” Roman declared.

Patton looked up in disbelief. “R-really?”

“Yeah, of course,” Virgil said as he came over and put a hand on Patton’s shoulder. Patton winced at Virgil having to feel his fat.

“O-oh.”

The hand on his back stopped moving. “Sweetheart, do you think we dislike your displays of emotions?”

“Y-yes? I know they can be a lot…” And I don’t even have a good body to offer you.

To his surprise, Virgil dove in and practically tackle-hugged Patton. Patton flinched when he felt Virgil’s arms go around his belly.

“Patton, we love you. Goddammit, I fucking hate myself,” Virgil shook his head, “Sorry. I just, what did I do to make you think that?”

Patton awkwardly draped an arm over Virgil’s back. “Nothing! You didn’t do anything kiddo!”

“Was it Logan or I?” Roman asked as he moved his hand from Patton’s hair to underneath his chin.

“No! You guys are fine, you didn’t do anything wrong!”

Logan kissed the top of Patton’s head. “Know that we love you, including your emotions. Let us eat. Food can help improve mood, particularly after a full night’s sleep.”

“You’re so smart Lo!”

“Thank you.”

Roman and Logan returned to their seats while Virgil pulled up and gave Patton a kiss. “I love you too Pat.”

“Love ya kiddo,” Patton said quietly as he stared into Virgil’s eyes. Virgil smiled, gave Patton one last kiss, and sat back down. Breakfast passed normally, the Sides chatting about Thomas’ upcoming week, and Patton trying to control his thoughts enough so he could pay attention. Once breakfast wrapped up, everybody helped clean and put dishes away.

Patton expected everyone to go back to their rooms after that, but Roman came up next to Patton, put his hand on Patton’s lower back, and kissed the top of his head. He started moving his hand in little up and down motions, so his pinky finger was just above Patton’s belt.

“I would like to show you how much I love you. Would you be amenable to that sunshine?” Roman rumbled.

Patton shivered at Roman’s tone and the idea of having to be naked around him. They’d had sex plenty of times, but only when Patton had a better self-image day. Come on Patton, you stressed them all out right at the beginning of the day! Get them in a better mood!

“That sounds great!” Patton lied.

Roman chuckled darkly. “Wonderful. From Logan and Virgil’s faces, it would seem they would like to join us. Is that something you’d like as well?“

Oh jeepers, they’re all going to see me! “It’ll be a party!”

Roman chuckled again and pulled Patton against him, kissing him deeply. “Shall we go to my room? I believe my bed is the only one large enough to accommodate all of us.”

“Sure!”

Roman kissed Patton again. Patton reciprocated as best he could, and then he was being gently led up the stairs.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this…

The door opened to Roman’s room, and Logan dragged him in, meeting him in a filthy kiss.

I can’t do this.

Patton whimpered and pulled back, hiding his face in Logan’s chest. Logan froze, then wrapped his arms gently around Patton’s back.

“Dearest? What’s wrong?”

Patton opened his mouth to speak, but no words came to him. He just pressed into Logan’s chest further.

“Do you want to stop?”

Patton hated himself for it, but he nodded his head with another whimper. He started sniffling and his breath began to hitch. Logan pressed a chaste kiss to the top of Patton’s head and rubbed the back of Patton’s neck.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay darling.”

Roman came over to put a hand on his back. Patton smelled cinnamon and roses. “It’s alright love. It’s okay, I promise.”

He sensed Virgil approach but stop, unsure. Patton took a deep, shaky breath. “I want to, I do, I love you guys, and god you’re all so attractive, it’s just…”

Roman shifted next to him. “My sweet, you don’t have to say yes just because I asked. Have you…” he trailed off.

Patton couldn’t let his prince think that! “No! I promise, I’m sorry. You’re all so hot, and I’m…” Patton’s voice broke. “Not.”

Virgil spoke up from behind him. “If you talk bad about yourself I’m going to physically fight you!”

Patton giggled through his tears.

“Darling, I can assure you we find you quite attractive,” Logan purred.

Patton looked up at Logan. “Really? You do?”

Logan’s eyes darkened as his gaze bored into Patton’s eyes. “Very much so,” he nearly growled.

Patton blushed hotly at the tone while Roman chuckled and leaned over to whisper in Patton’s ear. “I can assure you, I share the same sentiments as Logan.”

“Holy shit Pat, me too. You really don’t know you’re hot as fuck?”

“Language.”

“English.”

Patton turned around to level a disapproving stare at Virgil, who just smirked that damnable smirk of his. Patton was worried his glasses were about to melt off his face from the heat.

“Let’s go downstairs. I believe a conversation may be long overdue.”

Patton bit the inside of his cheek again, terrified as to what Logan was talking about. He followed them downstairs and couldn’t stop himself from leaning against Logan on the couch. Logan wrapped an arm around Patton and kissed his temple. Patton giggled lightly. It was the small gestures Logan did that reminded Patton what a big softie he really was.

Once everyone was settled, Logan began speaking. “Patton, love, are you insecure about your body?”

Patton tensed and looked down. “Maybe a little…”

He heard Roman about to jump into a dramatic monologue, but Logan gently raised his hand to stop him. Roman settled back with a small huff.

“How long have you been feeling this way love?”

Patton pressed into Logan’s side. “Well, I guess I’ve always known I wasn’t as… attractive as you guys, but I started feeling bad about it when we started dating. I’ve got the worst body out of all of you, and now you have to be with me when you all are so dreamy? It’s not fair to you guys!”

Noises of protest came from the other side of the couch before Logan raised his hand again. “My dear, do you think we’d sleep with you if we didn’t want to?”

Patton brought his legs up. “I don’t know… you could always pretend…”

“I find your body very appealing.”

“As do I.”

“Pat, you’re fucking hot.”

“Virgil. Language.”

“Still English.”

Patton decided to let it slide at the amused puff of air he felt from Logan.

“Darling, I know that our reassurances are hardly enough to change your mind, but I they give you some peace. I believe that Roman can conjure Dr. Picani in the Imagination. Would you like to go see him to talk further about your body image? You do not have to if it would make you uncomfortable.”

Patton sighed. “That might not be a terrible idea. I’m sorry for bringing you guys down.”

Virgil interjected. “Pat. I Will. Physically fight you.”

Patton giggled at the running joke.

“Why don’t we have Thomas watch some Parks and Rec? I think a mental health break may be in order.”

Patton smiled up at Logan. “That sounds like fun!”

Logan smiled back down. “Wonderful. I’ll go grab some snacks. Roman, if you would?”

Patton was confused until Roman pulled Patton into his lap. They both laughed as they fell slightly to the side.

“I love you, my sweet angel.”

Patton felt something in his chest unclench and thaw. “I love you to.” He bit his lip and looked down. “You really find me attractive? You’re so…”

Roman smirked. “Dashing? Noble? Handsome? Breath-taking?”

Virgil grinned. “Pretentious?”

Roman let out a series of high-pitched scoffs as Patton giggled. I gotta admit, being held by a dashing prince is pretty nice!

Logan came back with the snacks. Virgil scooted over and put Patton’s legs over his own. Logan sat on the other side of Roman and pressed against Patton’s back.

Later, they’d show Patton just how much they appreciated his body.

[ladykf-writes]

Fanfic Writer Appreciation (and a little self love)

Sooooo, as talked about I wanted to do a little promo. I may not always be my favorite writer, but I try to be one of my cheerleaders. And well, if you’re here you obviously have some interest in what I’m up to.

SO! Here’s a list of my currently-published WIPs and some info about them, in the order that I’ve updated them, most recent to oldest. 

Feel free to ask questions about any of them!

Dog Whistle (Ao3 || FFN) - started off as a prompt from @snackarey​ when I reblogged some Soulmate AUs. This one was a prompt for soulmates (Zack/Kunsel) who felt what each other felt - like pain. Needless to say, this went into a canon divergent AU where Kunsel felt some of what Zack was going through when Hojo got a hold of him after Nibelheim. And saved him, setting off an ever-increasing list of revolutionary consequences. It’s nearly 58K, and though I’m a little stuck I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes.

Dewprism: Journey to the [Relic] (Ao3 || FFN) - this actually has a lot more written than I’ve posted, I just got a little frustrated because well... the fandom is teeny tiny and there’s no real feedback. But! It’s an interesting piece. It’s a semi-novelization where I’m taking the old PS1 Classic from Squaresoft, Threads of Fate/Dewprism and merging the two storylines. Basically... you can’t play the game anymore unless you got it from the PSN for your PSP or... PS2, I think? Or emulate it, of course, you can do that. And I wanted to bring the experience to more people, because it’s got such a great story.

It’s Not a Game (Ao3 || FFN) - this is my Avengers/FF7 crossover, and funny story, it was actually born out of a comment back on my old Genesis RP blog about how Genesis would totally be Tony Stark’s favorite character if he played Crisis Core. It’s turned into a full blown fixit I have a type and I actually have like, 90% of the next chapter done, it just doesn’t feel quite right so I haven’t posted it. And am, of course, stuck. There’s a case of choice paralysis here; the premise is that, in the MCU, FF7 is a series like it is in our world, and Tony is a fan. So he goes to make a simulation to do a self-insert... only he somehow transports himself (and Bruce) to a dimension where it’s real. A “Stark-insert” someone called it; and it does use a lot of “Self-Insert” tropes, actually. There’s just so many ways it could go that I’m stuck on choosing exactly how to progress here.

Party of Five (Ao3 || FFN) - the MMO AU! This was actually originally a prompt @up-sideand-down​ got, that I got permission to take off with. It’s a modern AU AGSZC where they meet online playing this MMO I made up that’s based off of FF7 and modeled after a mashup of like, me studying WoW and my experiences playing SWTOR. I’ve actually got some ideas of where it’s going, I just got too caught up in technicalities and need to reroute it back to the relationships going on.

Welcome to FF7 (series link, Ao3) - this is me hashing out basically what I think went down pre-games. Most of it is headcanon, I cannot stress that enough. It’s based off of the little we know, of course, but there’s just so much we don’t that it’s mostly headcanon. Tons of OCs. It’s a whole series, and they overlap - different sections that follow different departments, mostly. The base story is Welcome to ShinRa (Ao3 || FFN) and that follows the man who will become President Shinra from back when they first discover mako energy. I’ve also got Welcome to the Science Department (Ao3 || FFN) which starts off with college students Gast and Grimoire and how they get drawn into the beginnings of what becomes ShinRa Electric.

And last but not least, honorable mention to Times of Change (Ao3) - this was actually a piece inspired by @deadcatwithaflamethrower‘s Re-Entry series. I desperately need to reread that before I can hope to continue this, but... one day. One day.... I don’t suggest reading it right now, my headcanons have changed and it needs an overhaul. But you’ll see eventually.

And now... the WIPs you haven’t seen. (Under a cut)

By fandom, just to keep things straight, but in no particular order otherwise.

Compilation of FF7

The Snowball Effect (Ao3 || FFN) ... sequel? continuation? - as one of the gift exchange presents I’ve just done this past month, it is definitely standalone as is, but if I ever figure out where I want to take it, I’ll continue that one. It was just far too much fun.

The Price of Freedom - the sequel to To Be Human, which... I’m looking forward to, but I really burnt myself out on TBH so it’s going to be longer than anticipated before I approach this one. TBH definitely stands on its own, but there were some loose ends left to tie up, so we’ll see how that goes. And when it goes, when I’m ready to approach that again. TBH needs some editing, too... lots of work there.

The Unnamed Pokemon/FF7 crossover that I’ve talked about for... a couple years now (yikes) but now actually have a plot for. It’s very interesting to me, putting Pokemon on Gaia, and seeing how that changes everything. Because like, they’d have presumably used Mew’s DNA since there’s no Jenova (I can’t see them using Deoxys, which would be the closer parallel) and since there’s no Chaos, Grimoire is still alive. Which means no extra Drama between Lucrecia and Vincent - and really, there shouldn’t be the stress between Vincent and Hojo over her being sick because Mew would theoretically be much more compatible with humans than Jenova was.

What I’m saying is Seph has three parents and at least one set of grandparents and a much more stable Sephiroth (and Genesis and Angeal, thanks to Lucrecia teaming up with Gillian) leads to some very interesting changes. Like deciding they don’t want to fight the Wutai war anymore. >_>

Hold My Flower - a timetravel fic featuring our one and only flowergirl, who has had enough of people messing up her planet and refuses to just... let it die. She is, unquestionably, a force of nature. No fragile flower to be found here, this is the gal you see in the OG who threatened a mob boss and meant it. Heaven help anyone who gets in her way. She’s going to save the world. Possibly in a Turk Suit, don’t look at me.

The Long Game - Reeve goes back in time, and holy crap this one is a monster I am truly intimidated by so it’s gonna take a while for me to get going on that. XD But basically, similar premise to the above - the world isn’t healing and someone has to do something, so Reeve is nominated due to his position in ShinRa and potential to... he’d say “influence” but let’s call a spade a spade - manipulate people and events to a more favorable outcome.

A third BIT fic is one that I started writing with my friend @askshivanulegacy back in... damn, somewhere between 2011-2013, before we switched to writing SWTOR fic together. It’s one where Zack is sent back in time, and the differences in him post-Hojo change things even before he can start deliberately changing anything. But I got permission to take and remake that, so I intend to, one day. It was Good Stuff. And you can never have too much timetravel.

Dragon Ball Z

So, this is an oooooold fandom of mine - the first fanfics I ever wrote (under a different name, no I’m not telling XD it was ten years ago) were for DBZ, and definitely the first ones I ever read, back in the days of dial up. And I read a couple interesting takes on Chichi/Vegeta fic... and I was talking with @vorpalgirl about it and said I’d love to try my hand at something with that one day. I think they have the potential to be a really great pair (don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the canon pairings but those two have a lot of potential) so... yeah someday I might dip my toes back into Z. It’s on the wishlist, as well as reviving and cleaning up an old unfinished work of mine. Someday~

Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time

Seven Years Lost - this one I’ve been debating a long time, and even did a little on! It’s basically how I rationalize what happens when Link pulls the Master Sword out and - well, spoilers but it’s a really old game so - when he comes out as a teenager and is immediately able to handle a nearly-adult body. It involves a dreamscape scenario where he communicates with his past incarnations and learns from them, and from sharing dreams with Zelda due to their bond.

Sailor Moon (manga/Crystal based)

Second Chances - I read a lot of SM fanfic back in the day, and my favorite ones were... more real? Like, there were more consequences to these 14 year old kids out there fighting for their lives and sometimes losing them. I’d like to tell a story through Minako/Venus’ eyes primarily, covering what that’s like, and then I also just really want a happy ending for the senshi/shittenou? So... yay canon divergence, lol. You guys know the deal by now. XD

Star Wars: Legends Era

United We Stand - SWTOR fanfic, baby! Basically, I’m just dying to see the eight classes cross over each other, and I will bend canon to do it. For anyone that’s played the original class story lines, there is some cross over but believe me when I say there were huge opportunities that were let drop by nature of the game. Just with the two Jedi stories alone... but that’s #spoilers for a not-as-old game so I’ll leave that be and only elaborate if asked.

(And do feel free to ask about any of these! I’d love to hash them out more.)

[avaantares]

ten questions tag game

I was tagged by @mymagicalunicornlife​. I think this game was intended for original fiction -- of which I have plenty! -- but I’m currently 133,000 words deep in a transformative literary work sprawling fanfic, so I’m totally going to cheat and use that one to answer rather than digging back into Blaze of Glory (my most recent original WIP). Blaze is on hiatus for a couple months because it was hurting my brain and I stalled out on rewrites, so instead of making progress on it, I’ve spent the past eight weeks wordvomiting a ridiculously long DMC fic instead. (Yes, I’m one of those writers who does both. That’s probably bad form. Not gonna stop, though.)

1. How did you come up with your WIP’s title? What does it mean in relation to the story?

Children of the Future Age is the opening line of the William Blake poem “A Little Girl Lost.” The works of William Blake served as a major inspiration for the fifth installment of this franchise (on which my story is largely based), and as a title... well, it’s relevant to the plot, but if I explained how, it would be a spoiler. Suffice it to say there are children involved.

2. Do you title your chapters? If so, what’s your favorite?

There are no published chapter titles. My working chapter titles (within this story) are organized by timeline, so they have names like “chapter 20 - Wednesday 2 wks” so I can keep track of how long it has been since [significant event] happened. (I write in Scrivener, so I can see all the chapter headings at a glance.)

3. What’s a recent line you really like?

“Well, I had just pinned him to the wall with his own sword and hurled a motorcycle at his face.” She smiled fondly. “Those were the days.”

“Right,” Nero muttered. “She’s gonna make a great babysitter.”

4. Are there any writing-related quotes you really like?

So, so many. This (along with many other variations on the same theme) is one I frequently repeat to force myself to work through uninspired or tricky points in the narrative:

“You can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.” ― Jodi Picoult

5. Do you have an idea for cover design for your story?

This story isn’t getting a cover, because fanfic. But I usually do for my original works. Sometimes I sketch or mock them up while I’m thinking through plot issues.

6. What sort of AU can you imagine your story being?

All my stories are, in a way, already AUs. Every one of my novels grew out of some other existing media -- not fanfiction, per se, but the germ of a plot springing out of an interesting concept or “what if” scenario. My age of sail adventure trilogy was originally inspired by a 1920s crime novel. My Edwardian ghost hunter story was originally inspired by a modern-day BBC series. My epic fantasy was originally inspired by a children’s cartoon. The decopunk fairy tale I sold to an anthology last year came to me after watching an episode of a 1960s TV Western. AUs everywhere.

Since this WIP is a derivative work, it’s already an AU. But I could see it changing genres and easily turning into some kind of wacky comedy, if it had a little less angst and played the character conflicts for laughs. (The premise really could have gone either way, but I’m an angst junkie, so it became a drama. But if someone wants to rewrite it as a sitcom after it’s posted, I’d totally read it.)

7. Which OC character would be the most angry with you as the writer?

Nero. I do put the poor boy through the wringer in this one, both physically and emotionally. But it’s for his ultimate good, really!

8. If you had to tell the story from a different POV, which character would you choose?

I usually have several rotating POV characters, but for story reasons, this entire narrative is from one character’s perspective, and it’s WEIRD. I keep having to perform timeline gymnastics to get my POV character someplace he can be involved in important conversations, rather than just popping into another head for a scene elsewhere!

If I had to change POV, I’d probably have to go with Lady. She’s also at the center of a lot of what’s happening, and as the person who has known the catalyst characters the longest, she has unique insight. Also she’s got her own bucketload of backstory and angst to work through, and that’s always fun to explore.

9. What would be your OC’s character’s taste in music if they lived in our world?

Nero’s musical tastes are pretty well defined in the game, I think. Though I do have him playing guitar in my story (not strictly canon but strongly suggested by the guitar taunt, and totally plausible), so he’d probably listen to a lot of classic rock in addition to the heavier stuff he listens to in-game.

10. What’s one personal goal you want to achieve by the end of the story?

My personal goal right now is just to end the story. This stupid thing was supposed to be a relatively short one-shot (HA HA HA), and given where I am in the arc, I’m estimating that it’s going to wind up in the neighborhood of 180K words. Which is insane. Doubly so since I’ve written over 130K in just two months, a quarter of which was spent traveling out of the country. (That’s... 2.5 NaNoWriMos. O_o I need to figure out what magic juice I’ve been drinking and start stockpiling it for November.)

I also want to make sure that I loop in all those dangling story elements I seeded in the first few chapters, but that’s not so much a personal goal as a standard task to check off the list. Most of my longer stories seem to have a bunch of convoluted plot threads that need tied off. I guess that’s how they end up being longer stories.

Tagging:

@gmariam321​ @iamtheshriekingguineapig​ @wordborne​ @radioinactivity​ and anyone who wants to play!