#we at least DO get a more solidly constructed idea of his character (yes even if it is the version of him put forth by alex

[theotherrichardpapen]

letter to his father - franz kafka // origin story, sink - desiree dallagiacomo // the autobiography of my mother - jamaica kincaid // caged: memoirs of a cage-fighting poet - cameron conaway

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

I would like to present (extremely briefly; it's more of an invitation to their thoughts rather than anything else) two approaches that touch on a creative technique used by Przybyszewska, which has been spotted by some of her scholars, albeit each in its own way. Ewa Graczyk maintains that Przybyszewska did not write a historical drama in any way, but rather described a completely different reality, an universum in which the same events happen, but which doesn't take place on Earth, with us in it. She describes, then, something which I call The French Revolution', taking after mathematics' nomenclature. Kazimiera Ingdahl, on the other hand, spots traces of gnostic and manichean ideologies in Przybyszewska's writing, which, as we all know, are based solidly on the contrast between Heaven and Hell, knowledge and numbness, soul and mind. I mention them here solely to point out there is a dualism in her works, it is important and easily recognizable.

I have nowhere near the amount of erudition these scholars do, so I will constrict myself to some more visible matters. In my previous post about Antoine, I've made a remark that stuck with me for far longer than I had expected, and so I decided to elaborate on it.

The passage I'm talking about is this: because it could potentially reveal Saint-Just as another Danton-like minded individual, looking for power for himself through sacrifices of others. I want to explore whether Przybyszewska really did construct both of them alike?

To me it appears very probable, as crazy as it sounds. First of all, ALL of the personages are created in some reference to Robespierre. He is the only singular, original mind amongst them all, not to mentoin an axis around which other revolve, and so all of them, whether we like it or not, are somewhat similar to each other. Second of all, she clearly went in the direction of mirroring certain scenes, ideas, expressions (which I personally love to track down and compare them later), and it's exactly the same when talking about certain individuals. The two pairs (Robespierre – Saint-Just and Danton – Desmoulins) come to mind right away. They are constructed as parallels at least in some aspects and at least to some extent.

Wouldn't that, however, put Saint-Just and Desmoulins on the same/similar level, aren't they the ones who creat a parallel pair? Well, yes and no. I think they are a unit when it comes to personal matters, for rather obvious reasons. But I also think they are both put in similar situations, and yet their thinking is polar opposite of each other. They are both allowed to Robespierre's most personal sphere, and yet their reactions are completely different, which is one among the reasons as to why one of them meets a sad end by all accounts, and the other can die somewhat happy (as I will always mantain: if Przybyszewska managed to finish Thermidor, I am one hundred percent sure she would depict Antoine as one dying boldly and proudly, if only beause he died for a great cause and alongside Robespierre). On the other hand, spiritually and mentally, Camille resembles Maxime way, way more than Danton. They are both... maybe not exactly soft, but emotional. The main difference between them is Maxime is able to rein his feelings in when necessary (again, not always, not completely; vide his late night visit at Desmoulins', vide his attempt and saving him from the Luxembourg Palace), but as far as differences go, this one is actually minor. They are put in different positions, but their reactions are similar.

I would also wager to say Saint-Just and Robespierre don't have that much in common with each other in the plays, leaving out their political stances and their relationship. They are very different in terms of character traits: Maxime is more forgiving, calmer, quieter in all aspects. Antoine is more of a quicksilver, and also is regarded more as a tool in Maxime's hands, which I mean in the best way possible. While he has his own opinions, sometimes quite different to that of Robespierre's, he only entertains them in Maxime's presence, so that no one can put a splinter between them and turn them against each other. When they are turned against each other (during their quarrels, yes, but also during Thermidor, which is a beautiful study of such a case), he defers to Maximilien humbly and holds no grudges against him. This is pretty much the only soft side he ever presents to the audience, for when facing any other characters, he is sarcastic  if not downright hostile, the only exception I can think of being Eleonore. He's not gentle, not even with Robespierre whom he respects so much.  (I cannot get over how badly Wajda interpreted this in his movie, where in his very first scene Antoine brings Maxime an apple-tree branch in full blossom; while a sweet gesture, it made little sense, for the director not only didn't establish their special bond in any way, cutting their very important scene in Act II and a lot of their exchange of words in Act V out, but completely ignored the fact that in the play they did talk about trees blossming, but it was Maxime who pointed this out to Antoine. Honestly, it would make much more sense if in the movie he was the one giving Antoine flowers; altough I don't trust it would be executed well, so perhaps the best scenario would be to drop it altogether.)

This leaves Antoine and Danton as the unlikely pair. Here I wouldn't necessarily say they are put in different positions (following my train of comparison), because – depending on if you believe the confrontation between Danton and Robespierre to be honest or not – there is enough evidence in the play to mantain both of them want to  establish power over nation through Robespierre. Danton is the villain of the play, but he isn't blind, he too wants to use Maximilien as a face of the dictature, as a tool to obtain more "normal" power for himself (normal power here would equal to money, respect, high office; the "abnormal" power is what Robespierre sort-of-dreams-of, an influence over people to direct them into doing what is necessary for the good of the whole of the nation, or better yet, the world). And Antoine wants more or less the same thing, the exception being he doesn't care at all for personal gains. He doesn't necessarily believe in Robespierre's visions of the future, one could even argue he doesn't understand them (this is clearly shown in Thermidor, where he reacts with a headache once Robespierre unfolds his plan in front of him: Stop it, Maxime. I can't keep up with you anymore.); he does, however, see the neccesity of establishing the dictature or some other extraordinary mean to obtain the total power over the state. Both he and Danton are blessed with a far-fetching political vision, the only thing differentiating them from Robespierre is that he's a much more brilliant chess player than any of them, when they can see few moves forward, he's already seen all the possible outcomes of the match. And all of these outcomes are bad, for Maxime is characterised as a pessimist, while Antoine and Danton are, generally speaking, optimistically inclined. Youthful foolishness indeed, except Antoine is not foolish! He's just optimistic. In Danton, the optimism takes a form of boldness and bravado, in Saint-Just it manifests as an unwavering faith in the one he considers to be so much more superior to himself, and also a certain amount of contempt for the ones he considers to be inferior. This is another trait he shares with Danton, and we have to admit, Przybyszewska did a really good job at presenting the same trait in them both in such different ways, that we like one, hate the other.

There is also the matter of how they treat Camille and what they think of him. Here, both are jealous, I think. Jealous of the special place Camille has in Robespierre's heart, scornful of his abilities as a politician and a journalist, disinclined to him as a person. Danton cares for him as far as his utility in being a leverage on Robespierre goes, but I don't think he hoards any warm feelings for him personally, and I don't say it only because he was willing to sacrifice Camille purely out of spite. A much better example to show what I mean is that Danton seems to have a much better functioning, more honest and professional relationship with Delacroix than with Camille, whom he keeps in the dark about absolutely everything from start to finish. I don't know if it was meant to be a symbol or not, but in their very last scene in the jail cell, Camille has to beg Danton not to snuff out the candle, which Danton does, albeit very reluctantly. In turn, Saint-Just talks about Camille in language dripping with contempt and jealousy of purely personal kind, offending him left and right, right to Robespierre's face – not to hurt Maxime, but to "open his eyes", so to speak. In one particularly harsh sentence he compares Camille to a dog, a child and a prostitue all in one breath. He not only doesn't regard him as an opponent, but barely recognizes him as a human being worth respect, in which he is sadly very similar to Danton.

Weirdly enough, they both regard Maximilien as human, which I think is interesting to notice. It would be really easy to write them in such a style that leaves way for them to see Robespierre as something more, something almost extraterrestrial, somebody who posseses abilites greater than normal humans do. And yet:

The first image is from The Last Nights of Ventose, my own translation, and it's directly from Antoine's compassionate speech. I didn't include Robespierre's response, because he just deflected, but deflection does mean he doesn't fully agree, so it's yet another similarity.

One more thing that comes to mind in a comparison like this is that Danton threatens Robespierre with the ultimate power. He doesn't think that Maxime will be able to live with it, with himself, if he ever decides to go this one step futher and become a dictator. Is this is because he wouldn't be able to live with himself, or does he truly underestimate Maxime, or he simply wants to make sure Maxime would not go in this direction precisley because he knows he would then be ustoppable? How very telling then, that in Antoine's mouth the very same thing is not a threat, but a promise! This ultimate power is born out of necessity, and it's a grace for the whole nation, because no other person could bear the weight of this "crown", but Maxime.

The main difference between Saint-Just and Danton, I think, is something which we have to believe, it's not written clearly anywhere, and this is also the thing I briefly touched uppon in the aforementioned post: we have to believe that Antoine has pure intentions, because we sure know Danton does not. These were the embers fueling the suspiscion in Maxime when he couldn't understand why Antoine would possibly push for the dictature so much – is his heart pure? This sounds overly dramatic, perhaps, but I think this dramaticism aligns perfectly with Maxime's overall characterisation. I think all readers believe in his good intentions, and the parallels constructing the characters help immensely in this judgement, for if Danton is rotten to the core, Antoine is as steady and pure as a marble column. Robespierre even calls one a pig, while the other deserves to be named an Apostle of liberty.

There is, however, another similarity between them, too. Both Antoine and Danton are willing to be dishonest in order to achieve their goals. This is this one thing that's hard for Robespierre to swallow, for he – like Camille – values honesty really highly and if he could, he'd always act honestly. Saint-Just, not to mention Danton, has no such scrupules. He sees the greater necessity as something erasing all other circumstances, and for this greater picture he is willing to sacrifice some of his integrity as a human being. With Danton, the situation is even less complex, for I don't believe he would be sacrificing his integrity in any way – this dishonesty lays at his very core and comes natural to him.

The arguments Saint-Just presents, and which differs from Robespierre's point of view, are also different from that of Danton's. Danton's vision of the present is filled with contempt for the people, for the masses who are less brilliant than him and few others are. It is worth noting that Przybyszewska really did think like this, this is something she believed in and while reading Danton's speeches in Act II Scene 3, what we actually hear is her own train of thoughts. The only difference is that she didn't disdain the people they way he did. She thought that being a mass, an unnamed pulp of flesh is not a bad thing (it was perhaps unfortunate, and I am sure thinking she was a genius like Robespierre helped her in maintainign this view). Base material is a nourishment for those who will lead these masses. We – the lesser people – are absolutely necessary for them – the greater ones – so that they can lead us out of the night and into the new epoch of enlightement, and there is nothing humiliating in being this nourishment/tool/base. Danton understood it only partially, for he wasn't ready for the greatest sacrifice of all: to be a genius, one has to get rid of everything personal, all needs and desires must be kept aside, and never again spoken of. Robespierre understood it, and I think Antoine did too. I think the best evidence for it is that he said, that he doesn't consider himself to be Robespierre's equal. Recently I hoped to prove it was a silent declaration of love; now I want to point out it is one because it showed Robespierre that Antoine understood this great sacrifice one has to make in order to be a leader, and in his own way, he has already done this. He has brushed aside personal vain and glory, his amour-propre, he degraded himself in order to magnify Maxime's importance. Danton may say: It's you whom I adore, but it is Antoine who shows it through his actions as well as his words.  

[luxekook]

chapter five.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 3.9k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, general chaotic energy, poly relationships, switch!reader and sub!jk, nipple piercings, taehyung being a brat, mentions of violence, light construction site smut (hehe), annoying texts from seokjin

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Five

Taehyung’s Room, BTS House - 11:57pm

“Well, shit, JK. Looks like the party started without us.”

An hour ago, I would have shoved Jimin off of me and shimmied out of Yoongi’s hold. But, now? I definitely am in too deep to back down from Taehyung.

“Hmm,” I make a show of pushing my hips slightly against Yoongi’s as I turn to face Taehyung and Jungkook more fully, “Yes, it did. And you know why? Because you weren’t invited.”

Yoongi chuckles into my neck as my words detonate and land on Taehyung, who gapes in disbelief. “Don’t piss her off, Tae," I feel Yoongi's grin against my neck before he places a quick kiss behind my ear.

“Yeah, Tae,” I taunt, “Don’t piss me off.”

“We leave for ten minutes. Ten! And she’s already got you like this?” Taehyung stomps over to his bed and sits in a huff, "Can I at least get a kiss, too?”

"Oh, I don't think so," I purr, "You see, only good boys get kisses." Turning to Jungkook, I smile wickedly when I'm met with the cutest wide-eyed stare complete with bottom lip sucked behind his two front teeth.

"Jungkookie," I shake Jimin and Yoongi off me and slowly turn to face the youngest, "Have you been a good boy?"

He nods frantically and gulps when my hand slips up his black t-shirt. "I'm so happy to hear that."

"D-do I get a kiss, noona?" He asks in the tiniest voice imaginable.

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Kim Taehyung rages from his four-poster bed, "Jungkook was just thirsting over you in the hallway!"

"Shut the fuck up, Kim," Jungkook growls, muscles bunching under my touch. I bite back a grin over how the boy’s duality really jumps out when he’s provoked.

"Hmm, is that so, Kookie?" My hand glides into his hair at the nape of his neck to pull his gaze back to mine, "Tell me what you said, and I might still let you have a kiss."

"What?" Taehyung cries.

"At this rate, she's not going to touch Taehyungie for 84 years." I hear Hoseok say, snickering. Seokjin's squeaky laughter and Jimin's high-pitched giggles ensue. I’m also almost certain I hear Yoongi let out a low chuckle.

"Tell me," I order Jungkook, who immediately caves like a house of cards during an earthquake.

"I j-just said that you were cute-”

"Bullshit!"

Jungkook shoots a livid glare over my shoulder at the blue-haired boy, "And, I said that I wanted to p-play with your nipple piercings… That I bet they make you look even prettier, noona. I'm sorry."

"Oh, baby," I say, stroking his reddened cheeks, "You know what? I think I just might let you."

"Really?" Jungkook looks like his birthday had arrived early.

"Really!?" Taehyung sounds like his birthday had been cancelled indefinitely.

"Really," I confirm, whipping off my hoodie. The various curses and groans reach my ears as I toss the hoodie right at Taehyung's slack-jawed face.

"Fuck, baby,” Seokjin hisses a breath through his teeth, "You weren't wearing a bra this whole time?"

"Huh?" I glance down only to be greeted by my bare skin, "Oh, shit."

"You came here. To this house. Without a bra?" A commanding voice sounds from the doorway, "Oh, babygirl, that's a dangerous move."

I face Namjoon, with my hands on my hips, nipples shamelessly pointed straight at him, "Dangerous? For me or for you?"

He cracks a slow smile, "Both." God, he looks to die for tonight - black cargo-pants, tight black t-shirt, black boots. My eyes latch onto the silver chain clasped around his neck and wonder if he’d let me pull him closer with it.

An impatient hand tugs on mine. "N-noona, will you still let me touch you?" Jungkook diverts my attention from the depths of Namjoon's dark eyes.

"Of course, Kookie," I link my fingers through his and turn to address the problematic king on the bed, "Taehyung, move over."

A flicker of hope sparks in Tae’s eyes as he immediately shifts to make room. I make my way over to the bed, dragging Jungkook with me.

"Jungkook, sit with your back against the headboard," I turn to Taehyung, "You, no touching."

"But-!"

"You're lucky I'm even letting you stay," I shoot him a glance, inwardly cursing at how tempting he looks sprawled out and gazing hungrily at me. Why did he have to be so insufferable?

Shifting to look at the boy practically bouncing on the bed with anticipation, I smile, "Can I sit on your lap, Jungkook?”

"Fuck yes," he breathes out, tongue darting to wet his lower lip.

A completely diabolical and sadistic idea pops into my brain. I slowly walk to the foot of the bed. The room quiets as I lean forward and climb on the bed. On all fours, I slowly crawl towards Jungkook, holding eye-contact.

He swallows hard, eyes darting every so often to my chest. Finally, I settle onto his lap and smile victoriously at the thick bulge I feel there.

“So unfair," Jungkook sighs, tilting his head back with his eyes squeezed shut, "You make me so hard, (y/n)-noona.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” the corners of my mouth quirk into a small smile, “Now, do you want to play with me? Or should I ask someone else?"

Jungkook’s mouth latches onto my left nipple and sucks. His hand moves up my back and then eases around my body to cup my other breast in his hold. I jolt as he pinches my nipple without warning, a surge of pleasure swells from deep within me.

“Mmm, Jungkook,” I hum and grind my hips down onto his, craving more friction. His tongue swirls around my piercing, and my breath catches.

"Fuck," I hear one of the boys choke out.

My eyes shoot open in search of the source and widen once I find it. Namjoon’s head is thrown back as Jimin kisses and sucks on his neck. Namjoon’s eyes remain heatedly on me as he murmurs, “Such a good boy.” Jimin and I both shiver as Namjoon’s words drip like honey off his tongue.

“Now, Jiminie,” Namjoon latches a hand through Jimin’s pink hair and tugs him away from his neck. The younger boy pouts. Namjoon ignores him, continuing, “Why don’t we show (y/n) how Kook likes to be kissed?”

At the mention of his name, Jungkook ceases his worshipping and whines, “Hyung, that’s not fair!”

“Not fair?” Taehyung’s indignant cry is immediate, “You just had (y/n)’s nipple in your mouth,  and you think this is unfair?” I look over at the irate boy, who looks thoroughly wrecked despite not having even been touched. His light blue hair is a mess, red bandana long since removed. One ring-adorned hand is pressed solidly over the bulge in his jeans. The other is thrashing wildly in the air as he articulates his point.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon growls, “Enough.”

Taehyung wisely shuts up.

A timid knock breaks the tense silence. “Hey, Pres?” A hesitant voice calls through the solid wood, “We have a situation downstairs.”

“God-fucking-damnit,” Namjoon curses and turns to me, "(y/n), baby, I have to go deal with this."

I shrug and reach for my discarded sweatshirt next to Taehyung, "I should get going anyway. My friends are probably waiting for me."

"But Noona!" Jungkook's grip tightens on my hips as I tug on my top, "When will we get to see you again?"

"Jungkook, honey, this campus is only so big. Besides, you all have my SnapChat." I cock my head, "How did you get that by the way?"

"Well, would you look at the time!" Jin lurches to his feet, "I need to go get ready for bed."

“Kim Seokjin, I swear to god," I shimmy off of a pouting Jungkook, "If you step one toe out that door, I will burn your plushie collection."

"Yah," he exclaims, "How do you know that I even have plushies?"

I shoot him a deadpan expression and point to one of the many pictures of Seokjin on Tae's walls. This particular Polaroid displays a sleeping Jin amongst a plethora of plushies that all seem to be the same alpaca of some sort.

"Taehyungie, you little shit!” Jin sprints to the photo and tears it from the wall. Shoving the picture in the culprit's face, Jin rants, "When did you take this? Why did you take this?"

"Last week," Tae answers and shrugs, looking thoroughly unapologetic, "I thought you looked cute."

Jin huffs, "Well, that's a given.” He turns to me, “Please leave my babies out of this.”

“Don't worry, big boy," I grin up at his handsome face, "I'll just think of something else… something much, much worse."

He purses his full lips in a mock-pout. I melt. "Aw, you're so cute." I reach up and squish his cheeks together.

"Don't fall for it, (y/n)!" Hoseok yells, spurring yet another argument amongst the boys.

“Honestly,” I shake my head in bewilderment, “How do y’all even successfully date?”

“I ask myself that every damn day,” Min Yoongi smiles up at me from the floor.

Before I can respond, another knock sounds at the door. “Come on, baby,” Namjoon reaches a hand out towards me, “I’ll walk you down.”

I accept his hand and stare as it completely envelops my own. Namjoon sees my attention and gives my hand a quick squeeze.

“Alright,” I call over my shoulder to the rest of the group, “I’ll see y’all around, I guess?”

I’m faced with six grown-ass babies with varying degrees of puppy-dog eyes.

“Remember to think about what we said, noona!” Jimin begs, “Consider going out with us, okay?”

“I’m not likely going to forget that seven dudes asked me to date them,” I smile wickedly, “That only happens to me occasionally.”

With that, I walk out the door with Namjoon and revel in the chaos I left behind me.

“Occasionally?” Hoseok cries.

“I’m going to do some recon. These rivals must be eliminated.” Yoongi seethes.

“Noona wouldn’t pick another group over us, right?” Jungkook pauses, “Oh my god, she would.”

Namjoon slams the door behind us and laughs, “You’re such an instigator.”

“You right,” I nod.

Namjoon and I trail down the hallway after the jittery pledge who had interrupted us. Descending the staircase, I survey the crowd below and fail to notice anything that would qualify as a ‘situation’.

Namjoon seems to agree. “Eric, if you dragged me down here for no reason, getting an infraction will be the least of your worries…”

Eric the pledge gulps, “Pres, I swear, they’re outside.” His gaze shifts to me for a split second before returning to Namjoon, “They said they aren’t leaving until they speak to one of you. Alone.”

I huff, “I can take a hint, Eric. This is obviously ‘frat business’ or whatever.” Namjoon hides a smile behind his hand at my use of air quotes, and I do not appreciate him finding my annoyance humorous. I shoot him a murderous stare before locating Luna and Jenni from across the room.

“Bye, Joon,” I salute him and turn to head towards my friends. I barely make it one step before his hand catches my wrist.

His mouth brushes my ear as he says softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.” He gives my hand a squeeze and then disappears into the crowd with Eric.

Goddamnit. I had forgotten about volunteering. These boys are slowly but surely infiltrating my life, and I’m not at all sure on how I feel about it. My feet drag across the room until I reach my friends.

“Ready to go?” Luna questions, linking her arm through mine.

“Ready to be interrogated?” Jenni smiles evilly, assessing the mess that I am.

“Yes and no,” I groan, pulling them both outside. Starting our trek home, I field questions from both my friends. Somewhere far behind us, a girl shrieks something about being lettered, and I thank the stars that someone else has drama besides me…

(Y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 8:45am

The infuriating sound of my phone vibrating with a number of incoming texts jolts me awake. Who the fuck dares to wake me up before my alarm? I grab my phone from its resting position on my nearby nightstand and almost fall out of my bed in the process.

“I’ll kill him,” I mutter darkly as I read the name displayed across my screen. It radiates an offensive mix of terrible grammar and narcissism.  

Worldwide Handsome 3 New Messages

“This better be fucking good.” My fingers angrily swipe at the notification, opening the messages. I knew exactly who these messages were from. When did that bastard even get to my phone and add his contact information? How did he bypass my password? What kind of sorcery?

Worldwide Handsome 8:45am: “You up, beautiful?” 8:45am: “We’re picking you up in 20!!” 8:46am: “Wear something cute!!!! ;)”

(Y/N) 8:46am: “…Did you say WE???” 8:46am: Also, when and how the fuckity fuck did you get into my phone?” 8:47am: “ACTUALLY, NO – HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET MY ADDRESS?”

Worldwide Handsome 8:47am: “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

(Y/N) 8:48am: “You are NOT a magician, you dweeb.”

Worldwide Handsome 8:48am: “Abracadabra, bish.”

(Y/N) 8:49am: “I can’t stand you.”

Worldwide Handsome 8:50am: “15 minutes!!!”

(Y/N) 8:50am: “15 minutes until I strangle you with my bare hands!!!”

Worldwide Handsome 8:53am: “Strangle? Sounds kinky… I’m into it.” 8:55am: “I’m bringing you coffee. What kind do you want?”

(Y/N) 8:55am: “Did I say strangle? I meant *hug you tightly and shower you with praise*!!!” 8:56am: “The largest size possible, please! Black.” 8:56am: “I’ll pay you back.”

Worldwide Handsome 8:56am: “That’s more like it!!” 8:56am: “And don’t even think about it… Papa Seokjin provides all.” 8:57am: “See you in 10.”

Egad! I spring out of bed and get dressed at the speed of light, grabbing the nearest t-shirt and pair of jeans. Shoving my feet into my trusty work-boots, I stumble into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

‘Man, I look rough today’ is the first thought that pops into my brain as I look in the mirror; but I quickly correct that bad thought with: ‘Bitch, you look fine. Stop hating.’

Ever since I learned about cognitive restructuring in my Behavioral Psychology class, I have been attempting to practice it in my own life. The process of challenging my negative thoughts has been so fucking hard, but it’s definitely helped my self-esteem and stress.

Throwing my hair into a messy bun, I hear my phone buzz. Shit, that must be Seokjin. Who even knew why that fucker had decided to come along to volunteering with Namjoon and me. I wasn’t going to turn down an extra set of hands though… For volunteering purposes, of course.

Six subsequent buzzes demand my attention.

Worldwide Handsome 9:08am: “We’re here.” 9:09am: “Get your sweet ass out here.” 9:09am: “You better not have fallen back asleep…” 9:09am: “Don’t make me come in there!” 9:10am: “If you aren’t down here in 30 seconds, I’m drinking your coffee.” 9:10am: “(Y/N).” 9:10am: “THAT’S IT. SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR COFFEE.”

That last text has my ass in high gear as I book it down the steps and out the front door. Barely remembering to lock it behind me, I come to an abrupt halt as I come face to face with an all-too-put-together-for-9am Seokjin.

He leans against Namjoon’s infuriatingly gorgeous black Tesla looking like he’s about to shoot a cover for Men’s Health – Construction Edition. My eyes narrow in on the large coffee cup in his hand and narrow further when he slowly brings it up to his full lips.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I warn.

He sips it.

“You’ve just declared war,” I announce and stride over to him. Attempting to pull the coffee out of his palm and failing, I decide to take drastic measures.

Slowly rising to my toes, I act as if I’m going to kiss his cheek; but at the last second, I turn and bite his earlobe.

“What the fuck!” Seokjin yells way too loudly for the peaceful early morning. Victoriously, I grab my coffee, back away from him, and take a giant sip. 

Yes, that sweet, sweet caffeine…

Seokjin rubs his ear and laughs slightly, “Babe, you’re really fucking scary before coffee.”

I nod in affirmation.

“Come on,” he gestures to his car and opens the passenger door for me, “Namjoon will have my ass on a platter if I take too much of your attention, and I know you’ll be heartbroken by the loss of such perfection.”

“You’re insufferable,” I reply, fighting a smile and losing.

“I know,” he grins and leans over the open car-door between us to kiss me. “Morning,” he murmurs in greeting against my lips.

I smile and kiss him again in reply. And then I remember my coffee.

Seokjin pouts at the loss of my lips as I take a cherished sip of the best part of my morning.

As I slide into the front seat, I hear him muttering about how he never should have bought that coffee. Grinning to myself, I buckle my seatbelt and look around the Tesla. Namjoon smiles at me from the driver’s seat, and I automatically swoon under the power of his dimples.

“Buckled?” he asks, as he adjusts the mirrors and flicks on the Bluetooth radio. The distinct sound of Kendrick Lamar fills the air. I nod and watch as he puts the car in drive, his muscles flexing.

His right hand extends across the console to rest on my left thigh and gives it a quick squeeze. I’m thoroughly distracted as I fixate on the hand that has now taken up residence on my leg.

“Hi, noona!” A chorus of two cries from the backseat. My body jolts.

“Ah! Stop, I could’ve dropped my coffee!” I steady my drink before turning to investigate the backseat that I had mistakenly (READ: tragically) thought would be empty. Taehyung and Jimin grin back at me from the seats beside Jin.

“Well, why didn’t you just bring everyone,” I drawl, raising an eyebrow at Namjoon, who just sighs in defeat.

“I mean… I kind of did,” he aims a glare through the rearview mirror, “I’m taking these losers, and Jungkook, Hobi and Yoongi are meeting us there. They refused to miss spending ‘quality time’ with you.”

“I’m going to kill someone,” I mutter under my breath, “Probably Taehyung.”

“At least wait until we exit the vehicle, please,” Namjoon chuckles, “I just got new seats.”

Habitat Worksite – 9:25am

When we finally arrive at the worksite, we step out of the car and head over to where Eddie is currently handing out tasks to different volunteers. I smile at a few familiar faces I see as we draw closer.

“(Y/n)-doll!” Eddie booms and walks over to greet us, “Came here with this one, did ya? And who are these boys?” He gestures towards my harem.

“Yes, sir,” Namjoon grins, quite unbothered by Eddie’s papa bear act, “A couple that carpools together stays together. Go green!”

I shake my head at his idiocy as Eddie splutters to come up with a response. “Don’t listen to him, Eddie. He’s full of shit. We are all just friends. Now, what can we help with today?”

“Yes,” Eddie clears his throat, shooting Namjoon dark look, “(y/n), I need you out front to help me orient a group of volunteers scheduled for one of those work retreat days…”

Fuck. The last group that I helped orient was a nightmare. They were supposedly here for a day of service and team-building, but all they did was fuck around and fuck up the siding. The men in the group refused to listen to my instructions on how to properly do things.

According to their mouthy ringleader, the fact that I had a pair of tits and a vagina made me incapable of knowing the tiniest bit of information about construction, whereas their dicks apparently came with an encyclopedia of knowledge on the subject.

I had almost decked him in the face, but I settled for placing a nice call to his place of employment later that day with an unsavory report on his behavior.

Eddie notices my glowering face and quickly looks away, “Namjoon, I need you to help out Matt and Paul inside to mix and pour some cement. The rest of you can follow me.”

The boys all give varying answers of agreement.

“Grab some gloves and glasses, you two. (Y/n), meet me back out front. Namjoon, Matt and Paul are already inside. They’ll show you the ropes.”

With that, Eddie beelines away from us before I can protest my assigned role. Seokjin, Jimin and Taehyung trail sadly behind him, shooting jealous glances over their shoulders at Namjoon.

Namjoon ignores them and eyes my homicidal expression. He cautiously asks, “What’s wrong?”

“The goddamn patriarchy is what’s wrong, Kim,” I grit out through my clenched teeth and stalk towards the supply trailer.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he trails after me, “My mom says that toxic masculinity always ruins the party.”

“God, I love her,” My mood elevates instantly, “Please marry me so I can be her daughter-in-law.”

He laughs, looking through the bin of gloves for a pair large enough for him while handing me a smaller pair. “Where’s my ring?”

“You already have like seven rings. Pull an Ariana and give some away,” I hand him a pair of protective glasses, keeping one for myself. “Anyway, please don’t forget that you’re my ride and leave without me.”

“Forget? Babe, you’ve taken up permanent residence in my mind since Tae pointed you out last semester.”

“Oh, stop,” I dismiss him, waving the pair of gloves in his direction.

He suddenly steps into me. The my small of my back hits the edge of the makeshift work desk latched to the trailer wall. “You know, I’ve noticed you really don’t take some of our compliments seriously...” He looms over me, lips pressed to my throat, “I guess I'm gonna have to change that.”

Namjoon scoops me off the floor by my waist and balances my ass on the edge of the desk. My arms circle his shoulders on instinct and his grip tightens on my hips. When he glances down at me, he lets out a rough breath which sounds like I’m torturing him.

He kisses me, his tongue playing with mine, twining around it, enticing mine to follow. Gravity tries to drag me down off the desk and our mouths separate. Namjoon hoists me up higher with a firm hand on the back of my thigh.

His mouth slams back over mine, and I swear the way he kisses can be felt all the way down to my bones. His wide palm curves around my waist, pulling me further into him. “Damn," he pants, resting his forehead on mine.

BANG. A knock sounds from outside the trailer, “You better not be up to no good in there, you two!” Eddie’s rumbling voice jolts us apart and my head snaps against the wall of the trailer.

A series of obscenities pours from my mouth as I grasp the back of my head. “You good?” Namjoon asks as he lifts me off the desk and back onto the floor.

“I’ll live… barely,” I lament.

He just shakes his head in amusement, “So dramatic, babe. Come on, let’s go do some service.”

a/n: a slight cliffhanger (but not really, hehe); also i didn’t have a beta read over this chapter bc i wanted to post ASAP so plz be kind if there are mistakes UWU

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[seyaryminamoto]

How far do you plan ahead when writing Gladiator?

Well, it’s been a wild, non-linear ride with Gladiator. Other things have been much easier to plan, but plotting Gladiator is a process that never seems to end.

The first thing I planned, solidly, was the conclusion of Part 2 (I split the story in three parts in my head: Part 1 ends at chapter 101, Part 2 is where we are now, Part 3 will be… the utterly insane resolution of everything). It must have been on the third day of pondering ideas for the fic that I came up with that, and while a lot of my plotting has changed, that particular idea for Part 2 hasn’t. I had no clue what the lead-up would be, or what would happen later, I hadn’t worked out all the details, but I’ve always known we’re headed towards that major peak in the story, and the process has mostly been about building my way towards it.

Part 1′s conclusion was also something I planned relatively early, at the behest of my beta asking when would Sokka and Azula seal the deal and how xD I was unsure at first, but eventually I realized what was the right way to make it happen. I needed it to happen at a culminant moment, something big, and the idea of it happening as the aftermath of a fight with Toph also was what led me to realize Toph was the perfect rival gladiator for Sokka, and thus, I started planning Toph’s involvement in the story, partnership with Iroh, and so on.

So, one thing led to another, slowly I started drawing out ideas on what I needed to do. The people close to the development process asked me questions about certain points of the story, or character developments, or even suggested plot ideas in case I was stuck someplace, and that helped me get the whole story into shape.

I think it took… well, I don’t know, months or even a whole year before I knew where the story was headed for real. One big plan I had for a while was for Ozai to take Sokka as his own gladiator eventually, choosing to take him away from Azula as to punish her (for the obvious, yes…). Then I concocted that Azula could end up sponsoring Katara as the two of them fought to get Sokka back, while Aang and Zuko worked to defeat/kill Ozai…

… I say all this freely now because practically every bit of this idea has been discarded in favor of something that makes waaaay more sense than that xD

I pondered so many things, opened doors and closed them, took steps in a direction and then backed down. I confess I even considered the Zutara route at the start, very briefly, as Aang would have been a 12-year-old while everyone else was older. That would have made a Kataang outcome kind-of extremely awkward so I pondered the obvious alternate possibility. 

But when a certain Zuki whisperer offered me a few ideas on how to make Zuki happen in the story, I chose a completely different direction for Zuko’s development, and honest to gods I’m thrilled I did. Without my awareness, Zuko’s story ended up serving as a major subplot that will eventually play a great part in the main plot, once his story collides with that of our main characters again. And when I think about it, I couldn’t have done this if I had chosen a different direction.

In all seriousness, I think it must have taken me about a year to finally make up my mind about where we were headed for good, in regards of Part 3. I had to really ponder it, and not take it lightly. I couldn’t just go with whatever felt right, because in the end this story isn’t quite a melodrama (which is what that outline with Ozai sponsoring Sokka would have been, major melodrama, this ain’t a soap opera!). The more I built it, the more loose ends I would have to tie. I opened a ton of possibilities from the get-go, and I plotted things without much connection at the very start, knowing that whatever couldn’t get tied in would have to be discarded. But this wasn’t just a capture story, star-crossed lovers, all we know and love. Gladiator was shaping up into an epic, and it didn’t deserve to be plotted as anything other than that.

So, my crazy aspirations and subconscious decisions brought me to make this story more than just the ship tale I originally had been thinking of. Because why lie? I came to this fandom to gush about my ship, first and foremost. Back when I was still writing The Reason I saw the big stories on FF.net, the crazy chapter counts, the length, the review counts, and thought to myself “That’s a lot of dedication, I wish I had it in me to come up with a story like that”, I honestly never believed I’d end up joining those stories, AT ALL.

But Gladiator has become something much bigger than me and than anything I could have anticipated. I certainly didn’t think I’d get the huge response I got, because it was way bigger than what I got for any of my other fics, even at its earliest stages. The Reason had felt huge for me, but it took around 16-17 chapters for it to get to 100 reviews, whereas Gladiator hit that mark at chapter 10. I had considered it could get more popular than my other stories, I knew it was on a different league from everything I’d ever written, but I never expected the response to be quite as overwhelming as it was.

Still, I did know Gladiator was going to be ridiculously long and much more ambitious than anything else I’d ever written. I got the suggestion for this story from Chaosconetic, but for about a month I didn’t really make up my mind about writing it. I thought it was okay, a possible story if I got tired of my main storyline at the time (The Reason), but I didn’t give it much thought until one night I went to bed and the thought of that gladiator story came back into my head. The next thing I knew, I was lying wide awake as I was overwhelmed by the possibilities of writing a story so big that I’d have a chance to basically feature everything I ever wanted to see from my OTP. Eventually, the possibilities widened further: I could also develop a lot of things that the original show didn’t explore thoroughly, and even rewrite a few things into what I would have liked to see from the show instead of what we got.

I went to my beta, to my closest friends at the time (of whom there’s still a few around, to this day), and I told them about this story. My beta’s response in particular was what pushed me forward because as soon as I was done giving her the concept she as good as shouted “WRITE THIS!” and I simply couldn’t even consider saying no xD I was daunted… but I wanted to give it a shot anyways, and see how it would go.

So yes, the massive story is almost five years old and, believe it or not, still under construction, plot-wise. As I said, the plotting process is absolutely not linear, and even to this day I’ve been pondering certain story arcs, listening to suggestions and possibilities for the future of the story. The general concepts usually remain more or less in place, but sometimes I find myself tweaking ideas and changing directions, but while always making sure I can get to where I’m going.

So, how far ahead do I plot? As far as my mind will allow it. I pretty much know what the conclusive scene will be, while also knowing what I’ll have in the epilogue. But I can’t say I know every single scene that will lead us there, despite having outlined most of what will happen in the future. Some story arcs are more obscure than others, some major events are still too tricky to figure out completely, some I go back and forth with (I was about to discard an upcoming story arc before realizing it would work really well if I changed a single factor in it…), some developments occur to me exactly as I’m writing them. It’s a complicated process in general, one I try to keep track of on a document where I have tried to organize my ideas properly, but even then it’s impossible to anticipate to the twists the story could take on its own.

In any case, I’m always plotting, pretty much. It really feels like a never-ending process and tbh, I think I’m going to feel terribly lonely when I finish the story and no longer have something of this magnitude to work with. It’s been such a massive part of me for so long, and every part of the writing process has been essential for Gladiator to be what it is. Plotting it has turned into a pleasure that never gets old, really. Every new idea worth writing feels like finding money in my pockets that I’d forgotten was there.

Anyways, that got long xD But I hope you understand my plotting process a little better now, at least.

[attemptingtobeom]

Train 23/3

Today I was inspired by a variety of different things.

I met two Italian men in my hostel, first a man that spoke of his experiences in the past, making youtube videos and raps with his childhood friends, of whom have become big producers in Italy. Nearing 30, and having dreams to eventually make his way to New York in pursuit of a film career, his avid sense of self confidence and lack of caring for what others thought of him was completely international and allowed me to see things from an external perspective. His ability to conceptualise and apply the theory that ‘reality is what you make it’ (as Sampa the Great has said before) was truly quite inspiring as I have felt my mind slowly become entrapped in itself in Beechworth; in the sense that I do not see myself, or my character, being seen by peoples from outside the small town. I am too internalised by this, wherein I constrain the things I do and say to contempt those around me within the town out of fear of being ostracised, and in turn am deeply trapped and tormented with a depression and fear of being myself. I feel at a base level this is what leads to a lot of my anxieties, wherein not only am I scared because of my past in highschool, with bullying and being an outcast etc but also in the fact that I have no peers that hold relative passions to the ones I have and so I have no validation of my views, beliefs and interests by my social circles. I also met another young man, from Italy, who has road tripped Australia on a motorbike, expressing that ‘being out there, alone, with just my bike, on hundreds of kilometres of empty roads; that’s the closest I have ever felt to freedom.’ This was another source of inspiration to me because it reminded me of the fact that there is always tranquillity to find within oneself once acceptance of being alone has come into place. There is nothing wrong with being alone and with oneself on this planet. There is no need for validation. The best things have always come from those who have not sought after it, and the most attractive, and personable people are those who do not seek validation of themselves within others and are rather happy to be who they are and accept the consequences of those who are not so fond of them for doing so. Family is the ultimatum of who to care for other than yourself and are essentially the only people that you can rely on at the end of the day to be there for you no matter what.

I was also inspired by Frank Xavier tonight when he came in to speak for the second half of my liveschool class; having over 20 years experience in the industry, and being heavily evolved with the development of electronic music within Australia, his keen eyes and quick lips were nothing sub of amazing to display after being in the industry for as long as he had. He had clearly not lost any interest for what he was doing and he clearly loved having the chance to pass the information on to others – a true scholar and possessor of knowledge. He was captivating to listen to, even if it was only for a short amount of time. It was less about what he was talking about specifically, but rather the essence he spoke of to us. ‘Don’t let it be robotic’, ‘Have dynamics’, ‘Make it interesting’. He surely prompted us to imagine ourselves to be the best we could be before we were mixing whatever we were making. We are doing this out of passion and not money; and if that was the case – we must do so mercilessly if we wish to do so well. Without realising, I think he was more inspirational than anyone else I’ve met at liveschool – purely because his intense love for music and it’s intricacies, and his undivided attention to it throughout the night and what I assume to be his whole life. He is good at it because he loves it and he does not care about what others think of what he does. He does it and he does it well, to his standard, and he knows best, and so he does well.

I think I’m definitely coming to a crux in my life. I’m 22, I’m still living at home, I’m inspired, but I’m yet to make any kind of leap, nor commit myself to any kind of field. I hold a strong sense of entitlement to my surrounds and I cannot seem to budge the resentment that lives in me for my childhood. I cannot speak to my family on such subject and my mind is In near constant disarray. I don’t know how to deal with myself and I don’t know if or how I should speak to those around me about my mind – at least I have recognised these things about myself now and am slowly starting to feel better again. I don’t know if I will ever lose the unsettling resentment for my Mum and her lack of speech and or input in the past bit – I want to get over it but I do not know how to. She has no idea how the way she has acted and spoken to me in my upbringing affects me now and I’m really really unsure of whether it’s something I should talk to her about as I don’t know whether I should pressure her with the guilt of being part of the cause of my fucked head. She means nothing but well for me and for everyone in the family but constantly fails to understand me, and I guess that’s everyone, because no one can understand me, for some reason, but I guess because it’s her I tend to think a little harder and more irrationally about it because I don’t know how else to deal with it because I can’t speak to my own mother.  This is an ongoing issue and due to my distrustful nature I tend to begin to believe things have been hidden from me by my family and hence why they are unable to talk to me about it.

Go and eat another fucking snack, fatboy, and while you’re there stink the shitter out with your putrid filth of an excuse for foecal matter. I’m really not typing anything constructive here and it makes me doubt my capabilities to do so because if I can’t type here, in a solo environment, how will I ever? Will I ever be able to travel if I haven’t dealt with these internal issues? Will I ever be able to get rid of them without talking about them with someone and/or my family? Why did this essay start by me wishing to state some inspiration I’ve found recently and then trail back into the family and head issues I am dealing with at the moment? Who knows. I guess they’re somewhat intertwined. Back to the topic of inspiration. What the fuck some woman just got on at cootamandra and said that she’s smiling because her ‘brother left her mother in a paddock to die and paid to have me shot, so I’m smiling because I’ve done my time and I’m on this train’. She literally has her hair dyed black and pastel yellow in stripes. STRAYA

This past week has shown me many particular little things that have shown me inspiration in one way or another. The reddit post outlying ‘workflow’ and that it’s more to do with lifestyle and habits rather than the way in which you actually work. This ties in quite solidly with the way I saw and thought Frank had grown to the esteem he had. Through sheer love and ethic to make good music. There was also another post, linked to the reddit post, of a producer giving tips on how to be consistent. “Do what you want. Have fun. The chances are, if you think something is a good idea, then it is. Don’t do it for any one else, do it for you. I bump my shit all the time!”. I think this one, while primarily applying to music, applies to life as well in a different fashion to the first, in the fact that it can literally be applied to a persons entire character and social standing. Do it for yourself. See the people you love. Do the things you think are fun. Make the jokes you think are funny. Have the social media presence you think is okay. The world is yours, and yes, while it may be the digital age and everything on the internet will remain printed for **ETERNITY** who is to really care? We’re living in a more droning and less self aware society than ever before; money drives popularity and fame drives money; products rollover and kids turn into more worker bees to run about the hive. What’s so wrong with just being a child? Nothing. Be yourself. Educate yourself. Enough of the endless short term attention and mindless grabs at instant gratification. The world is a beautiful place with a select bunch of beautiful people, don’t ruin your mindset on the asset that the others will care. There is no second 2017. This is it. This is now. People have forgotten that. Despite the internet being ‘forever’, we aren’t and I feel like the vast majority are forgetting that,.

Make things, be passionate, break things, make people laugh, get money. This is extremely disjointed and I for sure don’t know what I’m talking about but heyoooo my negro lesgeddit