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witchesoz · 2 years

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Oz Lore: The Black Brick Road

Have you heard of it? The Black Brick Road of OZ was a webcomic that began on DeviantArt, was quite popular on Tumblr and even got its own website! It was a reimagining of Baum’s Oz works, mixed with the tales of Volkov’s Magical Land (the author being Russian but also aware of the original American works), but the whole thing twisted and reinvented into something much more surrealistic, whimsical, dream-like – but also darker. In fact, the story was supposed to be, or rather become, or rather end, in a very dark, gory and depressing way. Unfortunately, the author stopped the project and deleted her DeviantArt account, her Tumblr account and also destroyed the website that hosted the comic. On one side because she was dissatisfied with how the story was told, and on the other side because she realized she had developed her story too much. Her worldbuilding had gotten out of hand and the project as it was couldn’t have been told unless she spent several years working as hard as she could on three different chronologies/series. Now hopefully everything is not lost. The author explained her full plans for the story – the full chronology, character info, all the secrets that would have been revealed and the ending that she had planned, on her wordpress blog. Unfortunately said wordpress blog is now private so you need to have an account there and be authorized by the owner. The webcomic still has a TV Tropes and Idioms page, and numerous pages and drawings of the original webcomic were kept on Pinterest. BUT the most useful things of all is that the author left her Toyhouse account open, and in it she stored a lot of infos about Black Brick Road – as in full character sheets for nearly all of the characters of the story, with extensive biographies, backstories, their role in the story and extensive galleries. I will put all of the links in the description, because I can’t of course sum up everything the author created, but I want to highlight some of the most interesting and useful facts here (plus I collected some info back on the Tumblr account that are now gone and can’t be found on the ToyHouse account).

I) Anyway… In this webcomic O.Z. means “Outer Zone”. The Outer Zone is split into five different countries: the Violet Country in the North, the Blue Country in the South, the Green Country in the West, the Yellow Country in the East, and the Red Country at the center. And of course, everything begins when a young girl named Dorothy wakes up in a trashed house, that just landed on top of a Wicked Witch. A little girl with a little cat, that may actually come from IZ…

When Dorothy arrives in Oz, there are six powers ruling OZ, three “good” and three “wicked”, four Witches and two males: Ichor the Good Witch of the South, Ferret the Good Witch of the West, Godween the Great and Terrible Wizard, Ruggedo the Nome King, Pepper the Wicked Witch of the East and Bastille the Wicked Witch of the North. These six powers are actually childhood friends. A long, long time ago, in the Violet Country, there was a reformatory named the “Motley Horde”, and in it was a Tower – in the Tower, “special” cases, weird kids with weird abilities. These kids were prepared and groomed for the conquest of OZ. These six were part of the original “Tower Kids” (even though there were more, but not all of them did the cut). The four Witches are believed to be sisters, even though they don’t look like each other – they were abandoned as infants at the door of the Motley Horde. All of them share strange abilities, which made some theorize that they come from IZ. They also all received upon one of their birthday a visit from the embodiments of death (characters from another series of the author) who offered them special “Death-Wish” to use, a bit like genies, but of course always with a price and a twist. (Originally the author had planned to have the four Witches absolutely lacking in humanity, able to do the worse thing with a smile and no care in the world, whether “good” or “wicked”. But she later gave them a bit more complexity in terms of personality and morality.) Another interesting point – in this webcomic, the four traditional inhabitants of Oz are reinvented as familiars of the Witches. Well not so much familiars as “Dolls” which are basically inanimate objects given life, including living toys (a la China Country), or the scarecrows of Oz – but also include other strange things such as birds made of scissors. Pepper’s Doll is a giant four-limbed ball named “Munchkin”, Ferret’s is a sort of giant caterpillar with two porcelain masks as a face named Gillikin, Ichor’s doll is a sort of snake made of smoke with two eyes and little wings around its head named Jellikins (Gillikin) and Bastille’s is actually a bunch of Dolls, the Winkies, flying alarm clocks with an eye in them.

II)

Pepper is the Wicked Witch of the Yellow Country (the equivalent of Baum’s Wicked Witch of the East, and Volkov’s Gingema). She is an overweight young woman with curly Venetian blond hair. She is very… childish. Energetic and joyful, but also selfish, short-tempered, violent, lacking in intelligence and always refusing to admit her own faults. She has a huge love for sweets and candies, and this is why during the Conquest she chose to rule over the Yellow Country – because it had all of the candy-making factories and industries of OZ. In fact the Yellow’s Country main theme is food – it is populated often by living meals and dishes, such as hot-dogs that are literal dogs, or crabs made of waffles. Among its most noticeable locations are : the Sea of Tea, the Sugary Desert, the Jelly Valley, the Oil Rock, the Ice-Cream Caps and the Milky Way. Its capital is the Topaze City, where Pepper lives, on top of Sweet Hill. Note however that her fat is not related to her sweet-tooth, her obesity rather being caused by illnesses. She always was a very sick and ill girl, forced to take numerous drugs and medicines. Her main hobby always was cooking – but she can cook cakes and pies as easily as she cooks potions and poisons. She adore all things cute and pretty, especially dresses and hats, but don’t ever get on her bad side – if she is angry she will devour you. Literally, she will take out a fork and jab you and eat you pieces by pieces. Pepper has an obsession with love, finding love and finding her “Prince Charming”. Her overweightness gave her a bad self-image, and she believes only Bastille, the other Wicked Witch, and Ruggedo the Nome King can ever really love her – so she created herself this fantasy of a finding a prince, and she keeps trying to become the girlfriend or to marry all the cute boys she can find, to the point of becoming an obsessive stalker. During her rule in the Yellow Country, this resulted as a strange “dating game” where Pepper would chose randomly one of her beautiful male subjects and forces him to stay in her castle for a while. If he can please her, he will go home with presents (and a good mental trauma). If not, she will hurt him or kill him or devour him, or all three at once. Because the thing is that no one can really like Pepper. Not because of her appearance, but rather due to her personality: she is insufferable. In fact, this shows on how she ruined the Yellow Country – she invaded it by force, spreading destruction everywhere, and then ruled it according to her selfish whims and her neglectful stupidity. What else to say… She was one of the two Witches to create the “life stone” that animates the dolls, by providing one of the two essential ingredients, a special potion. She is said to be “chaotic evil” and that her corresponding insect is the “Colorado beetle”. She has a spiral-symbol on her forehead that can “do” strange things when “activated”. And, of course, she gets crushed by Dorothy’s house.

III)

Bastille is the Wicked Witch of the Violet Country, or Wicked Witch of the North (the equivalent of Baum’s Wicked Witch of the West, and Volkov’s Bastinda), a tall and slender dark-haired and pale-skinned woman. She is a totalitarian ruler of the Violet Country, feared and respected by her subjects, but she actually is the complete opposite of Pepper, never falling into mindless destruction. She may be aloof, ruthless and condescending, but she judges everything fairly, if not strictly. Under her cold and stern appearance, she is a woman with trust issues, strong beliefs and a strict personal set of morals, as well as great devotion to those that she cares about. But she is also the kind of woman that refuses to feel love as not to “soften” or “weaken”. Stoic, smart, educated, her two main passions are sewing and biology. She did not “invade” her country like Pepper. Pepper was the first one to launch the Conquest by invading and destroying the Yellow Country. Soon after Bastille appeared to the royal family of OZ and threatened to unleash the same destruction on the land if she wasn’t given the Violet Country, she even took the daughter of the royal couple hostage to make them accept. As a result she took the North without harming its people or resources, and while she became a dictator, under her rule the country’s production and well-being skyrocketed. Under her rule, the Violet Country became an industrial region, centered around science. But it is still a very creepy and sinister region, as proven by its most notable locations: the Grave Grove, the Copse of Corpses, the Creepy Creek or the Wicked Thicket. Bastille rules from her Clockwork Castle, in the Amethyst City. Bastille was always fascinated with the questions of life and death, especially since she was a very frail child that had several near-death experiences, and because Witches are unable to reproduce. She did experiments on animals to try to find more about it, and she is the one that created the “life stones” that animate the Dolls. For that, she mixed two ingredients: a potion that only Pepper can make, and her own “Sand of Life”. This precious sand was actually given to her by the Deaths – Bastille was the first one to make her Death-Wish, by wishing to know the secret of life. She was given an hour glass filled with this “Sand of Life”. It is only later that Bastille discovered that this hourglass was actually HER hourglass, that this sand represented her own life. When she created all her Dolls, including an army of soldier Scarecrows, she wasted her own life, that is why she is so frail and weak now. Ever since she stopped creating new dolls and merely recycled the old ones, carefully taking back and hoarding the life stones. But this Sand will end up being her doom – she had received a prophecy, “After the house falls, Bastille dies” and indeed after Bastille’s death she sees her hourglass is running out of sand, which makes her paranoid. She tries to trick fate by trying to remove all possible threats to her – including Dorothy and her gang. And in defense, at one point they will poor a boiling potion on her Sand, melting it and melting Bastille as a result. Her other main power is that one of her eyeballs can actually be removed from its socket and answer any question asked – she was born with this specific ability. But the eye can only answer by telling what everyone knows is true, or what everyone believes is true, which leads to its information being biased. It also can see things hidden or invisible. “Evil Lawful”, associated with the praying mantis, she has a slight accent that makes her replace the “w” with “v” and the “th” with “d”.

IV)

Ferret, full name Ferret Lie, is the Good Witch of the West, or Good Witch of the Green Country (the equivalent of Baum’s Glinda, Good Witch of the South and Volkov’s Stella). The Green Country is centered around notions such as glamour, entertainment and capitalism, and her Witch represents those notions perfectly. Some noticeable locations of this country are: the Mellow Meadows, the Doves Coves, the Glamorous Glades, the Orchestra Orchard, the Mirror of Fears, the Mawkish Mountain and the Fame Lane. Ferret lives in her Flying Fortress, above the capital of the Green Country, the Emerald City. She is a very… controversial figure in OZ. Yes, she is a Good Witch, who “conquered” her region not by force, but by kindness. When Jinjur with her army of rebels overthrew the royal family and conquered the Ruby City at the center of OZ, the last princess of OZ, Zee, asked Ferret and her sister Ichor for help. They kicked Jinjur out of the Ruby City and as a result, Zee rewarded them with the two regions that hadn’t been already conquered by Wicked Witches, the West and the North, turning the two Witches into national “heroes” and “Good Witches”. But that was when people still ignored that Ferret was one of the brains behind the idea of conquering OZ… or that she had a hand into convincing Jinjur to attack the Ruby City… and that she had promised to her boyfriend, who is Oscar Diggs, the Ruby City to rule over, explaining why he was put in charge right after Zee stepped down from the throne. (Because yes, in this version Glinda and the Wizard of Oz are together). Ferret is a manipulative woman, with many layers to her plans, and always with a plan. As I said, Ferret represents her country perfectly. Just like her country is a commercial one based on trades and economy, Ferret is a merchant, a saleswoman, but a manic and foxy one. She can grant you any wish, make any of your dreams come true – but always to a price. She may appear as a sweet, kind and benevolent figure, but she will still force you into a Faustian deal with a big smile. And she also corresponds to the notions of glamour and entertainment: she is a show woman, a “superficial actress” in the author’s words, glamorous and flamboyant, always changing her clothes, colors and hairstyles nearly everyday, a true Lady Gaga. A chronic liar with a dramatic and quirky persona, the thing is that Ferret hides her true feelings. She learned, through the hardships of her life, how to put a fake smile on her face, and how to please people by telling them what they want to hear, and she plays this whole “act” for so long that now she forgot completely her real feelings, she is a “mask on an empty shell” drowning in denial. Quite funnily, she also wears a real mask over her eyes – it is explained by the fact that she actually isn’t born with real eyes, but with screens instead of orbits, resulting in her ”eyes” being actually digital pictures showed on the screens. Ferret is also indirectly the cause of many of the horrors that befall her sister – that she saw die one by one. For example, she always desired to learn how the Wicked Witches created the Dolls and gave them life, but they always refused to share their secret with her. She sent a spy to steal Pepper’s recipe for her potion, and the spy succeeded, but caused a lot of harm, deaths and damage for both the Witches and civilians. And later she was the one that sent Dolly/Dorothy and her friends to fetch the Life Sand out of Bastille’s hourglass, not knowing that this would cause Bastille’s death. Her ruling of the Green Country is described as “rash”. She mostly focuses on her deal, her business as well as her public persona (which pays off given that she is loved and appreciated through all of OZ) but for all the technical details, administration and “real” ruling, she leaves it to associates and underlings. Associated with both flies and butterflies, she is a “Chaotic Neutral” Witch. Oh yes, and she is obsessed with poppies, putting them everywhere she can.

As for the last of the four Witches, her name is Ichor – the Good Witch that rules the Blue Country (the equivalent of Baum’s Good Witch of the North, and Volkov’s Villina). A “true neutral” Witch associated with the cicada, she is actually dead when the events of the webcomic. To be precise she killed herself, which shook deeply the three other Witches, leaving only behind a note destined to Bastille, informing her that she would die soon after the “house falls”. Each of the Witches has a special characteristic. Pepper has her strange swirl on the forehead, Bastille her magic eye, Ferret her screen-eyes. Ichor’s specific characteristic was that, outside of her hair, she was completely invisible – not only that, her voice also couldn’t be heard by other people. As a result, she was often overlooked or ignored as a child by other people. This marked her, despite all the love and attention her Witch sisters gave her. Ichor often tried to be noticed by using her magical powers, mostly telekinesis, but it often ended up pretty badly since she was the “weakest” of the Witches and thus had a very hard time controlling her powers, leading to accidents or disasters. The “mother” of the Tower Kids offered Ichor a violin, which she learned to play, and tried to use music to help her control her powers and her moods. It worked, to an extent. But outside of that, Ichor also had the dreadful habit of causing or getting into trouble, only to flee from it, due to her inability to deal or cope with it, half out of fear and cowardliness half out of shyness and self-loathing. In fact one of the first Dolls Pepper and Bastille created, named Jellikins, was created to be the mentor and guide of Ichor. But her bad habits culminated in a dreadful accident – losing control of her powers, Ichor accidentally pushed Bastille down a cliff, breaking her spine. Afraid, Ichor fled, hiding away and leaving Bastille to die. Hopefully she was found and saved – she had to be in a wheelchair until Pepper used her “Death wish” to heal her spine, to the cost of Bastille’s body becoming very frail. Bastille never hated Ichor for that, but she deeply despised her “sisters” cowardliness and habit to flee from troubles, thus dooming others. Ichor still hoped to regain her sister’s love and trust, but this only stayed a hope, she never actually did anything to regain it. Pepper was the most aloof of her sisters. Ichor helped her during the conquest of the Yellow Country, amplifying Pepper’s destruction with her own magical music, but she always refused to hurt people. Ichor also saw Ferret slowly craft her fake persona and take on her role of the always-happy saleswoman, and felt her “drifting away”, resulting in the invisible Witch realizing she could never be certain of the authenticity of her sister’s feeling. When the last princess of Oz, Zee, went to Ferret and Ichor for help, and when the Good Witches vanquished Jinjur’s army, Zee offered to Ichor the ruling of the Blue Country as a “thanks gift”. Ichor was thrilled to have an entire country to rule, thinking of it as a new and exciting experience. It proved itself much more difficult than she thought, but she still held on, supported by Jellikins and by her people that – while creeped out by her appearance and powers – still loved her. As a bit of geography, the Blue Country, in the South, has for capital the Sapphire City, with at its center the Ivory Tower, Ichor’s residence. It is a very… calm country. Very quiet, very foggy, a bit eerie, it has locations such as the Lace Lake, the Domino Domains, the Gale Dale, the Stream of Dreams, the Obscure Ocean, the Hush Underbrush or the Uncanny Canyon. Now, the last straw that broke the Witch’s back was a dreadful incident – good friends, almost family of her boyfriend, needed a dire help, else one of their own would die. They begged Ichor to contact the Wicked Witches, the only ones able to help, but Ichor was too afraid of Bastille to do so, so she refused to help them. Which lead not only to her breaking up with her boyfriend, but also to all of this little group dying in atrocious ways. Falling into depression, Ichor started giving up on ruling her country, stopped appearing in public, locking herself in her tower. The people who loved her quickly considered her inept and useless. While the other countries changed, for the better or the worse, her own country stayed still, not evolving, not regressing, burying itself under “dust and cobwebs”. Then she died, killed herself. The end. Or is it?

VI)

Now, we talked about the ladies, but we also need to talk about the gentlemen! On the Good side, Oscar Diggs! At the time of the comic, he is known as Godween (the equivalent of Baum’s Wizard of Oz and Volkov’s Goodwin), the ruler of the Red Country – a country at the center of Oz, associated with the body and organs (notable locations include: the Capillary Caverns, the Pneumonia Pool, the Wounded Woods, the Mouthful Moor, the Brain Barren and the Knee Knoll). Godween resides in his Palaver Palace, at the center of the Ruby City. A giant jack-in-the-box, apparently blindly following the orders of Ferret, he is the one that sent Dollie and her gang go get Bastille’s sand. But back in the days, he was a normal-looking young man, named Oscar Diggs. Excitable, optimistic, sociable, a bit too prideful, he was a good actor and a big book-reader that always dreamed of joining a circus. Ironically, he wasn’t one of the Tower Kids like the Witches or the Nome King. He was merely a member of the “regular” Motley Horde, an orphan sent there due to petty crimes such as pickpocketing. He met the Tower Kids and the Witches one day, and decided to manipulate them, becoming their “friend” so they could help him escape – however he soon became truly attached to them, and even had a big crush on Ferret. Bastille and the future Nome King both built a blimp in order to escape OZ and go to the fabulous IZ, but it was Oscar that went on this blimp by mistake, and he was the one that went to IZ. He came back several years later. He tried to find a normal life in OZ as a librarian, but he was found back by Ferret and the Witches, and included in their plan for the conquest of OZ – Ferret used Oscar’s knowledge of IZ technology to scare the very superstitious Jinjur out of the Ruby City, which secured the Good Witches position. In fact, Ferret became Oscar’s girlfriend, and she promised him the Red City as his domain (he got to rule over it when the last princess of Oz abandoned the throne). Oscar used his knowledge of IZ technology to make people believe he was a Wizard, when he really was not. He also refuses to talk much about IZ (which is implied to be our world). He had pictures of it, but they were stolen by Ichor. Despite not speaking of it, Oscar kept dreaming of IZ and he sincerely wished to return there. Ferret became very jealous, suspecting that he had another lover there. Fearing that he would leave OZ, Ferret decided to use her “Death Wish” to make Oscar completely submissive to her. Which resulted in Oscar being turned into a giant, mindless Doll – Godween, a brainless, heartless puppet only dedicating to pleasing and obeying Ferret’s every whim. This incident had a huge, huge toll on Ferret’s mental health, I can tell you that.

VII)

As for the “Wicked Wizard”, he is none other than Ruggedo Quareria, aka the Nome King. (a mix of Baum's Nome King and Volkov's Urfin Jus) Long ago, the Nomes lived in colonies of the Violet Country. Working in the mines, spending most of their time underground, they were fantastic mechanics, good workers and the ones that offered many resources of Oz. But they were also rude and mischievous, vengeful and unpleasant, only tolerated for the wonderful gift they offered OZ. People accused them of every crime, including kidnapping children to make them their slaves. It all went down when the current King of the Nomes, Roquat Quareria, made a deal with the Snowbank family (the equivalent of Ev’s royal family, but here living in the Yellow Country), humble candy-makers. He offered them wonderful machines that quickly made them the most powerful candy makers of the Yellow Country. But in exchange, Roquat asked for his share of the profits and the wealth of the Snowbank family. And since the machines needed to be rewound, and only Roquat had the key, he greedily raised the prices of his rewinding, until he asked the leader of the Snowbank family to offer his whole family to slavery. Snowbank did, but then he poisoned Roquat and many of the Nomes with a special delivery of body-rotting candies. The Nomes being now without a ruler, and half-dead, the people of OZ quickly saw here an opportunity to eradicate their troublesome “neighbors”. All of the Nomes colonies were reduced to ruin and nearly all of the Nomes killed, except for some that fled underground. And except for Ruggedo that was found as a baby near the ruins of a Nome colony. Swearing vengeance on the Ozians for destroying his race, and wishing to create a doomsday device that would annihilate all of the Outer Zone, he only managed to receive during his childhood many injuries that prevented him from really creating performing machines. Later caught and sent to the Tower, he proved himself mistrustful and antisocial at first, but quickly started to develop feelings for Bastille, who helped him refine his machinery and create better devices, becoming a very good craftsman in the process. Ruggedo ended up sharing with her his childhood dream – while he was mocked by the other Nomes for being a “failure”, he kept dreaming that he was secretly the heir to Roquat and their rightful king. Bastille promised to make his dream come true. During the Conquest, Ruggedo united the leftover Nomes under the promise of getting revenge for the crimes against their race. Allying himself with Bastille, they threatened together the royal family to obtain the rule of the Violet Country – the Nomes even built a tunnel that led to under the royal palace in order to kidnap the last princess of Oz as a ransom. Once the Violet Country was theirs, Ruggedo recreated the Nome colonies, and they returned to their peaceful life. Ruggedo tried his best to change the Nomes ways, in order to be seen under a better light by the other Ozians, but he never managed to do so, still being seen as in league with the “Wicked Witches”.

And that’s it for now folks! There is much, much more to say about this webcomic, but I’ll keep it a little surprise Xp But yes, if you want to know more, go check the links in the description. (Prepare yourself, Dorothy is not who you think she is…)

- - - - - -

Now, all of the info concerning the project and most of the surviving art can be seen in the artist's Toyhouse page for the project:

https://toyhou.se/Xamag/characters/folder:345028

I suggest you go check it out because there are TONS and TONS of info I haven't included here, such as a reinterpretation of Ozma's story, the true identity of Dorothy, new backstories for the well known "companions" and much more!

You can also check the TV Tropes and Idioms page of the webcomic: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Webcomic/TheBlackBrickRoadOfOZ

#oz lore #volkov's magic land #webcomic #the black brick road #the black brick road of oz #wicked witches #good witches #nome king #wizard of oz

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27helena-solaris · 7 months

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A Dangerous Encounter: Chapter 6

All Scylla could remember was the blinding light on the water, the three hedgehogs laying on the ground, and Scylla herself being slammed into a tree from the force of the explosion. Scylla's magenta eyes slowly closed as she felt the white-hot pain rock itself into her core.

Several hours later, Scylla opened her violet eyes to see that Silver, Shadow, Sonic, Zielo, and the blinding light were gone. Panicking and worried that Zielo could have taken the younger gods to his lair, Scylla jumped to her feet, only to wince in pain as her sore body protested.

Scylla started to run west to try to find Sonic, Silver and Shadow. Scylla's mind swirled with worried thoughts as she checked every tree, lake, rock, and bush where the three hedgehogs could have hidden near.

Suddenly, Scylla heard the thoughts transmitted between Shadow, Sonic, and Silver. Scylla stopped searching for the hedgehogs, because she felt how far away they were.

Scylla closed off the hedgehogs' transmissions and thought to herself, "Well, I can't reach them, so it's only fair that I leave."

As Scylla turned her back and transformed into a pale-skinned, green-eyed, blonde-haired woman with wolf ears and tail, five wolf-looking Dark Gaia creatures rose out of the ground and awaited Scylla's directions. Scylla looked at the Dark Gaia wolves and understood what had happened. She looked at the starlit sky and whispered, "Thank you, Dark Gaia."

So, Scylla and the wolves stalked off into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, Scylla had changed her appearance. She has ruby-red eyes, black skin, and strawberry-blonde hair.

Scylla had her bow and arrow stretched into a potential firing position, aimed on what was called a Soulless. Apparently, according to the information she had learned from SOMEBODY'S thoughts (not naming who), a Soulless is a slave of Zielo, with half a soul left in their body. The other half of the Soulless' soul is kept inside Zielo. The half of the soul in Soulless' body rots away, and the Soulless knows it. There are three stages of being a Soulless and how much time you have to "save" them.

The First Stage of being a Soulless - Its' soul is just starting to rot away, and you have a somewhat medium-sized time window to save the other half of the Soulless' soul.

The Second Stage of a Soulless - Their soul is halfway rotted, and there is a smaller time window to save it.

The Third Stage Soulless - They can't be saved. The only way to end their suffering is to destroy them and their mark.

But there's a catch to saving a Soulless - You have to make a deal with the Dark God, which is Zielo, who somehow keeps every Soulless' soul in himself.

Scylla fired her fiery arrow, hitting the Soulless in their mark.

A voice with a French accent spoke behind Scylla, saying, "Alright, it iz time to go to Paradise."

#zielo cave

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randomvarious · 1 year

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1990s Hip Hop Playlist

Welp, the 50th anniversary of hip hop completely passed me by over the summer, and I didn't end up saying a single thing about it here, even though hip hop really was my first true music love. So, to make up for it, I've got a bunch of hip hop playlists on the way, starting with this massive update to my 90s one, which adds twenty new songs. The original iterations of this thing were backloaded with late 90s stuff, but now, with this update, I've managed to frontload it with a bunch of early and mid-90s stuff too. So, let's dig in!

Every single song in this update can be found on a quadruple-disc compilation called The Best Rap Album of All Time, which was put out in 1999 by budget UK label Dressed to Kill. It's a superb collection that spans from the late 70s through mid-90s, and comes with some unmistakable classics, but its 90s fare consists of a bunch of underheard and forgotten gems. And those gems seem to be derived from a couple different sources: one, a super overlooked scene that Americans don't know anything about called Britcore that emerged during the late 80s in the UK underground, and saw people (mostly guys) spitting raw, hardcore raps over seriously banging breakbeats; and two, the catalogue of the great, New York-based Profile Records, who put out some fantastic rap tunes during their tenure.

So, first the Britcore. I added a bunch, but Da Hoodzmen's back-to-back tracks, "The Rhyme Ripper" and "Runnin' Rampant," are probably my favorites here. This totally obscure group is actually originally from Orlando, Florida, but their lone release was a 1993 12-inch that was only put out in the UK, on one of the country's top hip hop labels, Music of Life, and it really suited that whole boom-bappin', old school Britcore sound to a T. "Rhyme Ripper" has almost 12,000 Spotify plays and "Runnin' Rampant" has about 3,200. And obviously, they deserve a whole lot more, because even though they're not actual posse cuts like A Tribe Called Quest's "Scenario," they still definitely have that same level of gravitas and energy 😤.

And now, Profile. This label put out a lot of cool and gritty street rap from New York and New Jersey over the years, but they also had deals with people on the west coast, down south, and in the UK too.

So, the most popular add among all of these is "Word Iz Life," a mid-90s rap classic by New Jersey trio Poor Righteous Teachers that feels like it was made to be blasted out of a car's stereo on a hot summer's day. This one currently has about 8.7 million plays on Spotify and is fronted by a serially underrated emcee named Wise Intelligent, who is one of those five-percenter conspiracy rappers with pretty wacky views, but the guy can definitely rap circles around just about anyone, as he clearly shows on this very track here.

Then there's two vets from New York who both happen to possess really deep and distinctly gravelly voices: Nine, from The Bronx, and Smoothe Da Hustler, from Brownsville, Brooklyn. Nine's biggest hit was "Whutcha Want," which hit #3 on the Billboard rap chart and #50 on the Hot 100, but his follow-up single, "Any Emcee," was terrific too, which only peaked at #35 on the rap chart. That song, which pairs his rough vocal with a smooth sample of The Spinners' "I'll Be Around," has about 166,000 plays. And then Smoothe Da Hustler's fantastic piece of 1996 gangsta rap, "Hustler's Theme," which was deeply inspired by Curtis Mayfield's own "Freddie's Dead," only has about 25,000 plays, which is, just, way too low.

And another pretty popular track in this update comes courtesy of LA's legendary DJ Quik, whose slice of g-funk in "Summer Breeze" has about 2.2 million plays on Spotify, and should be everyone's golden age rap summer go-to instead of DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince's "Summertime." Both aim for that same exact feelgood, laid-back, nostalgic party vibe, but "Summer Breeze" is just a better song in every way.

Speaking of g-funk, you can't sleep on Dallas' Ganksta C either, who delivers one of the coolest pieces of hazy, whining synth gangsta rap you'll ever hear in your life, with "Just Another Day," which has about 44,000 plays.

And keeping it south, comes one of Profile's most slept-on signings of all time: M.T., who hails from New Orleans. This guy sounds a bit like Method Man, but he's also able to do that silly thing where you slightly open your mouth, vigorously shake your head, and then produce a noise. And he does it while he raps, which is wild! Comparable in quirkiness to someone like Ol' Dirty Bastard or early Busta Rhymes, M.T.'s excellent "Set It Off" has under 1,000 plays!

And then across the pond in the UK, Profile had Daddy Freddy, who originally hails from Jamaica. He's someone who's unmatched when it comes to that furious ragga style, and he shows why on "Go Freddy Go" and "Haul & Pull," which have about 16,000 and 33,000 plays, respectively.

Standing Ovation - "Onslaught" Daddy Freddy - "Go Freddy Go" Monte Luv & DJ Rob - "Silk Smooth" Militant Posture - "Down of Terror" Brothers on Organised Missions - "B.O.O.M." Brothers on Organised Missions - "Delivering the Answer" 2nd II None - "Ain't Nothin' Wrong" Kobalt 60 - "Kaos From Order" Daddy Freddy - "Haul & Pull" Killa Instinct - "Un-United Kingdom" Da Hoodzmen - "The Rhyme Ripper" Da Hoodzmen - "Runnin' Rampant" Potna Deuce - "Can U Dig It" Ganksta C - "Just Another Day" DJ Quik - "Summer Breeze" Nine - "Any Emcee" M.T. - "Set It Off" Smoothe Da Hustler - "Hustler's Theme" Poor Righteous Teachers - "Word Iz Life" Big Al Zoota - "Zoota Bang"

I also added a couple songs that can't be found on Spotify to the YouTube version of this playlist too. And both tunes happen to be by guys who sport British accents, but only one of them is actually from England itself, while the other, Dana Dane, hails from Brooklyn. Dana faked his British accent in order to stand out from his peers, and it proved to be a successful move, because a bunch of his singles actually managed to chart, including his late 80s classic, "Cinderfella Dana Dane" 😂. But his 1990 song, "Something Special," which currently has about 70 plays, is pretty great too. And then the actual British act, a London duo called 499, supply "Don't Categorise Me," a sweet piece of chill jazz-rap that sounds like it could've been produced by someone like Pete Rock, and currently has about 11,500 plays across its handful of YouTube uploads.

Dana Dane - "Something Special" 499 - "Don't Categorise Me"

And this playlist is also on YouTube Music.

So, with this large update, the Spotify version of this playlist now has 31 songs that end up totaling 2 hours and 9 minutes, and the YouTube version has 52 songs that total 3 hours and 35 minutes. So, if you want a lot more 90s hip hop gems, be sure to check out the YouTube one.

Enjoy!

More to come, eventually. Stay tuned!

Like what you hear? Follow me on Spotify and YouTube for more cool playlists and uploads!

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sealegsagain · 30 days

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Organ(iz)izing

So I'm going to put down some goals. PLEEEEZ I'd like to get to some of them ---------------------------------- 1. Personal timeline for AC. org.. My first post. Notable parties etc. When did the website start? When did it end? What other crews were connected and active?

2. Email Kev. Mention Phil and how awesome the 95 brockout set was and the art in massive magazine. Mention the news articles. Ask how he entered the rave scene. Mention the Bios. Ask how M left (if it isn't evident enough from what I find in the mailing list archives).

2.5 When did people start mixing Dnb with hardcore? Was it Pendulum's influence? Was it the Luna-C Supaset? 3. Do Smirk's timeline.. when did he go to LA and manage phusion? When did phusion close?

4. Ask Jen about the planners

5. Save fun rave Ascii in text file

6. Talk to Erik Ek about the mailing list stuff

7. The old way of picking up strangers via mailing list? Why is this not done these days

8. MAYBE reach out to Alex while I still can

9. Mention the difference between the "net crew" and raves at large.

10. The dress of various ravers.. when did kandi enter the picture in the midwest? which styles were more west coast?

-------------------------------------- Archiving: Find SOME WAY to pull my sms messages off my old phones and onto an hdd Try the facebook messenger takeout file again. Emails in my hotmail- Find a way to save these. -------

Unrelated archives:

Gosh going through my folders is gonna be such a fucking chore.

But a new ILLUSTRATION/ART photo by artist would be RAD

Some Y2K fonts and assets would be extra extra rad.

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airadam · 10 months

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Episode 174 : Twin Flames

"Ain't a damn thing changed boy, protect ya neck!"

- RZA

This month marks a full thirty years since the landmark date of November 9th 1993, when two of the greatest albums of all time - in any genre - were released. I've played many of the tracks from those LPs on the podcast over the years, but both do get a nod of respect in the selection here, alongside some absolute fire new releases and old classics. This month's selection tends towards veterans of the culture, while for the most part staying in the relatively recent past. Like Nas says, keep on putting out records...we want to see and hear the art!

Twitch : @airadam13

Mastodon : @[email protected]

Show/Stream Schedule : events.airadam.com

Playlist/Notes

Champion Sound ft. Smif-N-Wessun : One Luv

This is a really grand-sounding track which deserves to be heard from the very first note. The piano chords and overall instrumentation bring to mind less a Hip-Hop single and more the kind of thing you might hear on the soundtrack of a Spike Lee film. I looked up the band Champion Sound and was amazed to find that they hail from Prague - a serious cross-continental collaboration for them to link up with Brooklyn's finest! Tek and Steele drop grown man street raps over the brooding, cinematic soundscape for a standout from the "Stash Box" LP that just dropped last month.

[DJ Eclipse] O.C. : Time's Up (Remix Instrumental)

Buckwild's beat for the original version of this classic single is one of the best-known and loved pieces of production in Hip-Hop history, and it would take a brave man to remix the track - enter DJ Eclipse. The former Fat Beats retail supremo and DJ for Non Phixion isn't one to shy away from a challenge, and he does an excellent job bringing a different flavour right here. While this might have once been tough to find (I'm only just hearing it for the first time myself), it's now easily available on the deluxe version of "Word...Life", which has been released digitally.

Wu-Tang Clan : 7th Chamber

In the month where we celebrate the 30th anniversary of the release of the debut Wu album "Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)", I've gone for one of the deeper cuts that isn't something you'd hear at a typical gig or club night. Quintessential Wu, with RZA nailing the production (personally, I love the loop with the stabs before the main groove comes in), and seven of the Clan MCs murdering the track. Wu forever, indeed.

Kev Brown & J Scienide : Legendary Rugged

Simply a slice of raw Hip-Hop, no fancy studio gloss, just rough drums, deep bass, and a warbling main sample over which J Scienide spits that goodness. Kev Brown drops some bars himself on the second verse, showing why he clearly has to be thought of as one of the best producers on the mic of the current era. 2021s "Stray From The Pack" LP is inspired by the great duos both inside and outside of Hip-Hop, and Kev and J pay tribute in fine style.

MC Eiht ft. Xzibit : Medicate

The various battles over the years aside, I love to see how much true respect the veterans of the culture have for each other, especially when it leads to pairings you might not immediately think of! In this case, Texas-born but longtime Brooklyn resident DJ Premier, possibly the exemplar of the East Coast sound links up with one of the OGs of the scene in Compton, California, the legendary MC Eiht to executive produce his "Which Way Iz West" album, from which this is drawn. Connecting with Xzibit takes the union to an even higher level, and Austrian producer Brenk Sinatra captures just the right vibe for both MCs to get busy on.

Krumb Snatcha : Rich Man Poor Man

A heavy album track from "Respect All, Fear None" that I'd imagine passed most people by, Da Beatminerz come with some boom-bap accented by a dramatic horn sample for one of Boston's ruggest to spit over. As a man whose trials and tribulations are a matter of record (including his classic single "Closer To God"), when he gives you lyrics like this they come with the weight of someone who has experienced the realities of the world first-hand.

[Hit-Boy] Nas : 40-16 Building (instrumental)

I just picked up the instrumentals of Nas' "Magic" LP on vinyl, and this was one of my favourite beats on that album. As great as Nas is on it, I always love a chance to hear the production brought to the forefront!

Pusha T : Just So You Remember

"Livin' a lie, but die for your images." This dark and subdued Kanye-produced track from "It's Almost Dry" absolutely drips with menace and contempt from the pen and vocal performance of Pusha T. You might recognise the sample, which was on "Six Days" by DJ Shadow, and it bubbles along with the periodic vocal interjections from the original source, in between Pusha's verses - notably, the first being longer than the other two put together. Packed with quotables, this is headphone music at its best.

Queen Omega & Little Lion Sound : No Love

You might have heard the raw, 100% from-the-soul vocals of Trinidad's Queen Omega on an IG video that was going round recently, where she recorded an absolutely fire dubplate over the beat for Dr. Dre's "The Next Episode". This is the original track it's based on, a roots reggae cut with a lyrical message that seems especially accurate right now.

Shortie No Mass : Here Goes Nothing

I only heard this recently and assumed I was just way behind the curve, only to realise it's a 2021 release! This MC famously guested with De La Soul on "Buhloone Mindstate" as well as The Roots on "Organix" before releasing a couple of singles and then falling all the way back for an extended period. After many requests from fans over the years, she's out with an LP, from which this is the appropriately-named title cut, and is talking about more after getting very positive feedback! I don't have credits for the digital release, so I can't say who produced this, but it's got the vibe of the opening track passed through a happier filter, and of course you know the lyrics are tight.

Six Figga Digga & Camp Lo : The Jig

Six Figga Digga might be known to you as Lord Digga (when he was with the INC Crew), or just Digga (certainly around the time of his work for Biggie), and he's been in the industry for years, not always in the forefront but always keeping the quality high when you do hear him. He lines up two of my favourite MCs, Camp Lo, the slang grandmasters of the Bronx very nicely here. You usually put textures together in a beat that sound like they could have come from the same place, but to blend electronic drums like these with those seventies sounds and make it work takes real skills. Catch this one on the recently-released "Person Of Interest" LP.

Agallah : Gotta Love Me (instrumental)

I've always got time for an Agallah instrumental, and this soulful groove from 2015s "PCP Instrumentals" is, despite an undeniable bump, actually a chilled beat you could add to your studying playlists :)

Temu : Temu's Talkbox Groove

I can't remember how I happened across this track this month, but I'm very glad I did! It seems that Temu is a modern day funk maestro, a devotee of all that that makes you pull the stank face, and a true "Relic Of The Mothership", as his debut LP is titled. Flying the flag for that vintage heavy electronic funk, this track references quite a few tunes you might know as he takes you on a journey, rocking the talkbox through the whole track like the great Roger Troutman would have done. If this man comes to Manchester on tour...that's a guaranteed ticket purchase from me!

Essa & Pitch 92 : Heavyweight

A brand new single from two quality artists in combination - Pitch 92 on production (alongside co-producer Viva Cee), and the young veteran Essa (formerly Yungun) on the mic. Thumping, rolling beat with Essa's assured vocals running over the top make for a heck of a preview for the forthcoming album from this duo.

Erick Sermon : Stay Real

Taking it back to the early 90s, this was the second (and final) single from Erick Sermon's solo debut, the wryly-titled "No Pressure". Everyone knew the pressure was on after the EPMD breakup, but he came out strong as a solo artist with this LP and shut down all the questions. His trademark lisp accents his bars over a tough self-produced beat highlighted by that synth-funk bassline, plus a little Roger Troutman in the hook.

Clear Soul Forces : Get Wit It

No shame if you missed this one the first time round, as it was a bonus track only on the deluxe edition of CSF's excellent "Gold PP7s" album, ten years old this year. It's what you expect from this Detroit crew - bouncy production from Ilajide (with some nice short bass stabs and an epic clap) and styles upon styles from the whole crew on the mic. It's certainly not intended to pander to the club, but if you have a pulse it probably wants to make you move nonetheless!

J Dilla : Say My Name (Instrumental)

Weirdly, when I played the vocal version of this track all the way back on episode 96, it was also following an Ilajide production! Anyway, since then I've got hold of the instrumentals that were used for the controversial "Rebirth Of Detroit" project and even if this beat was an offcut, it's better than a lot of people's best work!

Natural Elements : #TribeVibes

I almost played this last episode, until I realised the milestone we were reaching this month! One of the fiercest crews of MCs ever to form, Natural Elements and their producer Charlemagne pay homage to the great A Tribe Called Quest on this track. Beginning with and interspersed by an announcer inspired by the performance of the sadly departed Laurel Dann on "Midnight Marauders", the crew kill it over beats inspired by "Lyrics To Go", "Midnight", and "Bonita Applebum". "Midnight Marauders" is my favourite Tribe LP to this day, and this is an appropriately high-quality homage to it.

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

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atsushihamana · 1 year

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test

riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs.

Sir Tristram, violer d’amores, fr’over the short sea, had passencore rearrived from North Armorica on this side the scraggy isthmus of Europe Minor to wielderfight his penisolate war: nor had topsawyer’s rocks by the stream Oconee exaggerated themselse to Laurens County’s gorgios while they went doublin their mumper all the time: nor avoice from afire bellowsed mishe mishe to tauftauf thuartpeatrick not yet, though venissoon after, had a kidscad buttended a bland old isaac: not yet, though all’s fair in vanessy, were sosie sesthers wroth with twone nathandjoe. Rot a peck of pa’s malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface.

The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonner ronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk!) of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later on life down through all christian minstrelsy. The great fall of the offwall entailed at such short notice the pftjschute of Finnegan, erse solid man, that the humptyhillhead of humself prumptly sends an unquiring one well to the west in quest of his tumptytumtoes: and their upturnpikepointandplace is at the knock out in the park where oranges have been laid to rust upon the green since devlinsfirst loved livvy.

What clashes here of wills gen wonts, oystrygods gaggin fishy-gods! Brékkek Kékkek Kékkek Kékkek! Kóax Kóax Kóax! Ualu Ualu Ualu! Quaouauh! Where the Baddelaries partisans are still out to mathmaster Malachus Micgranes and the Verdons catapelting the camibalistics out of the Whoyteboyce of Hoodie Head. Assiegates and boomeringstroms. Sod’s brood, be me fear! Sanglorians, save! Arms apeal with larms, appalling. Killykillkilly: a toll, a toll. What chance cuddleys, what cashels aired and ventilated! What bidimetoloves sinduced by what tegotetabsolvers! What true feeling for their’s hayair with what strawng voice of false jiccup! O here here how hoth sprowled met the duskt the father of fornicationists but, (O my shining stars and body!) how hath fanespanned most high heaven the skysign of soft advertisement! But was iz? Iseut? Ere were sewers? The oaks of ald now they lie in peat yet elms leap where askes lay. Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish.

Bygmester Finnegan, of the Stuttering Hand, freemen’s maurer, lived in the broadest way immarginable in his rushlit toofarback for messuages before joshuan judges had given us numbers or Helviticus committed deuteronomy (one yeastyday he sternely struxk his tete in a tub for to watsch the future of his fates but ere he swiftly stook it out again, by the might of moses, the very water was eviparated and all the guenneses had met their exodus so that ought to show you what a pentschanjeuchy chap he was!) and during mighty odd years this man of hod, cement and edifices in Toper’s Thorp piled buildung supra buildung pon the banks for the livers by the Soangso. He addle liddle phifie Annie ugged the little craythur. Wither hayre in honds tuck up your part inher. Oftwhile balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in grasp and ivoroiled overalls which he habitacularly fondseed, like Haroun Childeric Eggeberth he would caligulate by multiplicables the alltitude and malltitude until he seesaw by neatlight of the liquor wheretwin ’twas born, his roundhead staple of other days to rise in undress maisonry upstanded (joygrantit!), a waalworth of a skyerscape of most eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating from next to nothing and celescalating the himals and all, hierarchitectitiptitoploftical, with a burning bush abob off its baubletop and with larrons o’toolers clittering up and tombles a’buckets clottering down.

Of the first was he to bare arms and a name: Wassaily Booslaeugh of Riesengeborg. His crest of huroldry, in vert with ancillars, troublant, argent, a hegoak, poursuivant, horrid, horned. His scutschum fessed, with archers strung, helio, of the second. Hootch is for husbandman handling his hoe. Hohohoho, Mister Finn, you’re going to be Mister Finnagain! Comeday morm and, O, you’re vine! Sendday’s eve and, ah, you’re vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, you’re going to be fined again!

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thunderrabby-blog · 2 years

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Villains Are Destined to Die Vol 1 [Manhwa Review]

“A Perfect Score; A Must-Read Manhwa” Mangaka : Gwon Gyeoeul (Story), SUOL (Art) Publisher : Drama, Fantasy, Romance, Shoujo Genre : Ize Press Published : November 2022 It’s no secret that the manga industry has been on a recent high of villainess-focused titles, many of which we’ve covered ourselves at Honey’s Anime. As more Korean-produced manhwa make their way to the west, though, Japanese…

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tanadrin · 2 years

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So Proto-Indo-European had various ways of forming the comparative and superlative, and while the Germanic languages mostly settled on whatever their local cognate of -er, -est was (only originally it was -is, -ist; the t is a second suffix attached to the comparative suffix -is, which rhotacized in North and West Germanic, but not in Gothic, which still has the comparative in -iz), Proto-Germanic had not quite lost other ways of forming these adjectives. It still had its own cognate of Latin -imus (as in “optimus”), which it used in a handful of words like *aftumo, “last,” *frumo, “first,” and so forth. Some of these survived into later Germanic languages like Gothic and Old English, albeit with the underlying productive pattern lost--in Gothic, for instance, they got re-analyzed as comparatives (fruma, “earlier,” with the superlative frumists).

Old English kept a few of these, including PG *medumo, “midmost,” OE medume, “moderate, average,” which got its own superlative that still exists int the form of modern English “midmost.”

That’s right--”midmost” is not originally a compound word, though no doubt most English speakers analyze it that way now, and this has, I’m sure, helped its longevity. Originally it’s a superlative of an obsolete word that happened to come to resemble the compound mid + most somewhat by chance. That second ‘m’ is a fossil trace of a time when a language ancestral to English could still form superlatives the way Latin did, a memorial of kinship with a language that now looks very different from English as it is spoken today.

I think that’s pretty neat!

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larenoz · 3 years

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There Has To Be Three - Updated

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Originally posted as part of @rnmmarchformeta but updated to reflect some new additions. Only three eps in and already enough for an update!!

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From the very beginnings of the show, symbolism related to the number three has been present.

The most obvious example of this is the mysterious symbol seen throughout the show. We see it displayed in the town lights when the power returns after Max causes the blackout. It has recurred so often in their lives that both Max and Michael have it tattooed on their bodies.

It is initially described in terms of being a beacon. In 1.09 Songs About Texas, Max sees the symbol on the flyer for the Indigenous faith healer, Arizona. It’s here that Max learns about the way the symbol mysteriously forms near certain people, and its link to the silent woman on the reservation.

We later learn that in addition to its role as a beacon, the symbol is used as a lock. It is the Pod Squad placing their hands on their respective circle on the symbol that unlocks Mr Jones’ cell.

And again, we see the number three associated with a lock and key on the box used to house Tripp’s diary left to Patricia.

But is the power of the design intrinsic or is it what the design represents?

Does the symbol in fact represent an important cultural or biological concept for the race of aliens to which Max, Isobel, and Michael belong? Join me dear readers on my journey into the “aliens need to be in groups of three to form stable relationships and be happy” head canon.

Could it be possible that the aliens only function successfully when they form relationships, be they romantic, sexual, platonic, sibling etc when it contains three people?

We see many different groupings of people, that don’t seem to work properly until they are together or that when fractured, bad things happen.

Pod squad - Iz, Michael, Max

Science Bros - Liz, Michael, Kyle

Family - Liz, Rosa, Arturo

Family - Liz, Rosa, Kyle

Friends - Liz, Maria, Alex

Barn Crew - Nora, Louise, Roy

The Parents - Mimi, Jim, Jesse

Manes Men - Alex, Flint, Greg

In 2.05 we are given an answer by Max:

“The thing is, there has to be three. Okay. There’s always three. Until the end.”

“Cause it’s all broken without three.”

This is confirmation from canon that at least for the Pod Squad, three is the magic number.

The question then becomes was Max talking only about their specific situation or is it indicative of the wider cultural/biological alien imperative?

In terms of the Pod Squad, even though they are together physically, emotionally they are distant. The events surrounding Rosa’s death break the trust within the group and the closeness they had before that event is lost. It’s only once those secrets are out in the open and they begin to repair their relationship as a group, that they each start to heal their other relationships as individuals. Obviously, there are other events impacting their individual circumstances but the point holds.

Could this within its full cultural manifestation be that triads are the norm for the aliens? And that the 2.06 threesome is them unwittingly falling into the cultural norms of Michael’s society?

Does the threesome between Maria, Alex and Michael happen because they were already the most likely (basically people who are all outsiders in some way and therefore already breaking societal norms) to be open to unconventional relationship structures and therefore more open to acting on the drive towards a triadic group?

Originally posted by rosaortecho

Like for Kaliz, Kyle provides that balance, cause Max isn’t great at setting boundaries with Liz.

And even with Alex, Maria and Liz, their friendship was broken until they all came back together.

Even in non-romantic/sexual situations the characters tend to work better in groups of three. It isn’t until Kyle, Liz and Michael all start working together that they start making headway on healing Max and it’s only when they all contribute something equally (Liz regrowing the heart, Michael making the pacemaker and Kyle conducting the surgery) that they finally succeed.

I like that alien culture isn’t just a replication or mirror of our world. And that the differences provide a lens for us to examine our own cultural defaults. - eg monogamy (which historically hasn’t always been the default even in the West). Canon has explicitly questioned the assumption that the aliens experience sexuality in the same way as humans. Michael says in 1.11 Champagne Supernova:

“Oh, we are literally aliens, and you’re gonna hold me to some outdated binary of sexuality?”

And Isobel in 2.07 Como La Flor:

“I mean, what does an alien care about human gender constructs?”

It isn’t such a stretch to suggest that how their society structures its intimate and familial relationships is also different than humans? If aliens aren’t monosexual by default, it’s highly possible they aren’t monogamous by default either.

While allegory plays an important part in the storytelling of the show, I wish that they would also take advantage of their sci-fi setting to explore other aspects of the aliens’ culture. Use the sci-fi genre to explore how they are different as much as how they are the same as humans. The story so far has given us so many elements that could be used as a what-if starting point for exploring different possible experiences. For example, how The Expanse has shown that as humanity expands into space different distinct culture develop. In the show, we see the exploration of a polyamous Belter family that Drummer finds herself in - the #PolyamBelterFam

Realistically, we aren’t going to see this. Even though hey even went as far as having portraying a canon threesome but stopped short of fully exploring the potential of this event by giving us a fully realised polyamorous relationship.

Nevertheless, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the “three” symbolism and it’s going to be interesting to see if it gets developed further.

Update 11 Aug 2021 (Post S3 Ep 3):

So only three eps in and we already have new "There Needs To Be Three" content. Let's start with the most obvious!!

Our introduction to the home planet of the Pod Squad gives us this image of the night sky with Three Moons!! Which are sort of in the same configuration as the lock symbol?

In the dialogue of the show, Isobel actually uses the term "Triad" to describe the pod squad:

"Okay, you're right. We've all been hiding things from each other. And it has to stop.

We're not strong unless we're together. It's like you said; there has to be three. We're a triad."

(text courtesy of Saadiestuff transcripts)

In S3 Ep 3 we see Michael coming to possession of some enhanced turquoise. He ends up giving pieces to Alex, while Isobel also gets a piece. Both Michael and Alex use their pieces to boost or interact with some alien technology, while Isobel's piece enhances her empathic power.

This one is purely theoretical at this point, but what about the Lockheart Machine and Jim's Radio - is there a missing third machine to complete a machine/circuit?

#roswell nm #roswell new mexico #roswellnm #symbolism #michael guerin #alex manes #maria deluca #liz ortecho #rnm spoilers #max evans #kyle valenti #isobel evans

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years

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Plus One | Kevin Moon (Around The World Collab)

When your boyfriend of eight years suddenly decides to break up with you right before your destined trip for your cousin’s wedding, nothing can cure your broken heart. In a desperate attempt to make you feel better, Kevin states that he will be your plus one.

Genre: little angst, fluff, friends to lovers.

This fic is part of a collab “Around The World”, featuring different countries x the boyz members. I had the utmost pleasure of working with such an amazing group of talented writers for this project, so please don’t forget to check out their works too! ^^ <3

This fic is takes place on Mauritius Island.

Word count: 9k IZ A LONG ONE SO BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUPS

Tagging: @aniyawoos @chaoticdeobi @moondustaeil @juyeonzz @atbzkingdom @2hyunjae @jopping-to-my-kpop @jeongsinkookie @ihearttbz @heartyyjeno @bahnmi07 @sadlandia @itsquxxn

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Eight years, gone just like that.

I stare at a spot on my navy blue suitcase, not really focused on what’s before me and more concerned about the memories flickering past my lids. I can’t help it. Everytime I see luggage, it makes me think of the way I kicked him out of my life. Everytime, a slab of pain will grab my heart between its icy fingers and squeeze it so that I can barely breathe. Everytime, until I feel like I’m drowning inside dark waters without the real desire to swim to the surface.

My psychiatrist told me that it had been for the better. That it had been an obsessive, unhealthy kind of love in the first place. But was it better now that I couldn’t even feel my heart in the hollow space where it’s supposed to be?

“Y/N.”

Still, I remember the messages on his phone, the way his touch would feel strange, eerily hollow for some reason, the way he’d avoid my eyes whenever he’d tell me that he was going out with the guys. I remember smelling his coat and recoiling at the cheap scent of perfume clinging to it like second skin, how he’d constantly tell me how wonderful I was-- too wonderful for him -- and that I should find better, that I didn’t deserve someone like him.

And then, when I’d stumbled into our flat a little earlier than I was meant to -- since my gym class had been cancelled -- and took note of the trail of shoes, followed by a coat, a shirt, a thong, before my ears picked up on the noises echoing from the bedroom doors…

“Y/N?”

His face when he spotted me, the astounded expression like a dog that had just been caught sneaking into the pantry. And the girl, a prettier woman, a curvy woman, with red lips and with those beautifully deep red wine locks tumbling down her back with the perfect physique that could make any man drool. That girl, who was none other than one of my good friends at work and who had spent most part of the year listening to my rants about him.

“Y/N!”

“Huh?” My head whips up when I register my name being called out, looking up to see a raven-haired, petite-faced man leaning against the bedroom doorway with raised brows and a concerned expression on his face.

“Oh, you’re here,” I say, as he crosses the doorway and sits beside me. The bed dips down under his weight as he tilts his head in that knowing manner of his, “daydreaming again?”

“No,” I mumble, but he sees right through my facade and with a sigh, his arms wrap around my shoulder before pillowing his head against my shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs as I allow myself to lean back against him, against his comfort. His lavender scent wraps around me, a little bed of comfort amidst all the pain.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I murmur, tears stinging the corner of my eyes, “it hurts, Kev.”

He only holds me a little closer, a little tighter.

If there is one person that I can trust more than myself, it’s Kevin Moon. I’ve known Kevin ever since high school, having hung out in the same friend group until we had become partners for an art project. It was only then that we’d become closer, and had been close ever since. With his angular features and almond mono lidded eyes and thin lips that were constantly shaped in a pout, the Korean-born man had moved to Canada when he was young, just like I had a few years ago. He had kept me afloat during my university days, I had comforted him through his first break up. He had been present during my final Fine Arts Photography Exhibition, I was up all night coming up with re-branding concepts for his design project. Overall, Kevin had pretty much been a constant in my life, you get the gist of it.

When he found out that my boyfriend had cheated just a few days before our destined trip to attend my cousin’s wedding -- mind you, I had been sobbing waterfalls and it was a miracle he even understood me through my blubbering mess -- he had half a mind to storm up to the guy and rip his throat out. But he did the most surprising thing; booked a ticket for himself and turned up at my flat on the eve of the departure, stating that he was going to accompany me to that wedding, whether I liked it or not.

My cousin, Emma, was getting married right where home was: Mauritius. The memories I once had of the small island nestled right in the Indian Ocean on the right of Madagascar, was of my grandma’s comforting food, the sea scented air that washed along with the too-white sandy beaches, the multitudes of merchants selling all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables on the side of the road, and small corner stores that looked like they had come out of a 1960’s movie. People liked to claim that Mauritius was paradise on earth, and in a way, it is.

“Come on,” Kevin had nagged when I shook my head adamantly. He’d wriggled his plane ticket before my nose, “you’re not going to let that loser spoil such a happy event are you? Emma’s waiting for you!”

In the end, he’d won. Which is why we are here, staying at my cousin, Emma’s, apartment in a village called Moka, located at the foot of a mountain and has an abundance of forestry adorning the sides of the road. It's chilly here, in comparison to the harbourfront, and constantly smells like fresh rain and has a gentle fresh breeze blowing through.

“You know, assholes like him are not worth thinking about,” Kevin says now, his arm a gentle soothing caress up and down my back, “your brain might rot.”

I can’t help but let out a soft, choked up laugh.

“It’s our first day here, let’s not ruin it by thinking about him, hm?” Kevin continues soothingly and I nod in agreement. He’s right. I’m just wasting time by reliving memories that I should be banishing from my mind.

“Okay!” he brightens up then, “where shall we go? The sea? The market? Or do you want to go eat?!”

--------------

The first few days are about meeting up with family and rediscovering Mauritius for what it is. Emma gives me a full-fledged hug the moment I open the door to her house, pressing me close to her with such motherly warmth that it takes everything in me not to break down right then and there. I greet my uncles and engage in small-talk with my aunts, help my grandma out in the kitchen as she continuously asks me why I’ve gotten so thin. While I know the main reason, I decide to smile and spare her the details, as embarrassing as it is.

No one mentions him, until one of my uncles slips during a conversation with Kevin, “so you’re Y/N’s boyfriend. Such a pleasure to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you that we started thinking she was just making things up.”

“Er--” Kevin reddens, “I--”

“So how did you two meet?”

It is at this very instant that my mouth decides to move on its own and I blurt out, “we’re high school friends.”

“Oh highschool sweethearts! How cute!”

Kevin doesn’t fail to mention what a mistake I’ve made to lie to my entire family to save face.

“I feel guilty,” he says as we walk out to the car, keys dangling from my wrist.

I unlock the car, “it’s fine. We’ll be in and out before they know it. They don’t have to know anything.”

“Hm, sure.”

After some well-deserved family time, Kevin and I decide to head to the west of the island to catch the sunset, my camera stuffed neatly in the backseat, where Kevin has tossed a few spare towels just in case. We each have donned our swimsuits for the occasion and it doesn’t take an expert to see the excitement thrumming through Kevin’s veins as he sits beside me like an excited child in the passenger seat.

“I never realized that you guys drive on the left side of the road,” he comments, head whipping back and forth in-between the passage of cars.

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to, especially if you’re crossing,” it is then that I notice that there is a newly built mall as we turn left at the green light, “hey, that’s new. I’ve never seen this before.”

“Cas-ca-velle,” he mumbles out with that strong accent of his. He is definitely not one to know French and I’ve been acting as his translator all along, considering that my family speaks French at home, “what does that mean?”

“Beats me. It’s just a fancy name for a new shopping mall,” I peer into its parking lot, “wanna visit?”

“Whatever floats your boat, honey. I’m all in.”

The mall is longer than it is wide, with white archways decked with wooden-style roofs that give way to an open-plan exterior. A wide beige cemented pathway occupies the space, with shops lined on either side.

“I never realized, but you guys are very multicultural,” comments Kevin as we pass by another family of four chattering quickly in a mixture of French and Creole.

“We’re similar to Canada that way.”

“Do you miss it here?”

My eyes glance over at him, notice the soft empathy in his expression.

“I guess I do sometimes,” I say while I kick at a stray pebble, “It’s like homesickness. But in a way I can’t quite explain,” after a moment, I ask, “do you miss Korea?”

“The food, mostly,” he grins bashfully, “my halmeoni makes a killer gamja tang.”

“Let’s go visit her one day.”

“Is that a promise?” he asks as I shrug, “if you want it to be.”

It’s a little past six when we drive up to the Flic En Flac beach and as we gather our things, my eyes light up upon falling on a nearby roti stand. I quickly slap Kevin’s arm in my bout of excitement.

“Ouch! What? What is it?”

“Kevin, you’re not going to believe this,” I point at the stand in question, “this roti stand? It’s the best roti in Mauritius. Here, take this,” I don’t wait before shoving my bag and camera in his arms, “I’m gonna buy us some. You go and find us a spot on the beach.”

“But--”

I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence before taking off, greeting the merchant who is just about to be wrapping up to ask whether I can get two rotis with ‘cari saumon’ (roughly translated into salmon curry mixed with indian spices), local and freshly made. The smell wafts through the folded paper wrappers as I grab them. They smell just like my childhood, where everything had just been as easy as having rotis by the beach without a care about the future that is to come. It’s nostalgic and I can’t help the smile tugging up my mouth at the thought.

Kevin is already settled atop a pair of spare towels and looks up at the sound of my footsteps approaching. I pass him one of the paper wrappers and he takes a peek, confusion flitting across his face.

“This smells spicy,” he mutters loudly enough for me to hear, “it looks like naan bread.”

“It is,” I agree, “except it’s flatter and more like a crepe.”

Throwing me a hesitant glance, he takes a small bite. I watch his face go from confused to impressed in a few seconds, before his eyes whip up to mine, “woah, this is good.”

“Told you so.”

“But this is really, really good,” he can’t help but marvel at it and laughing, I proceed to dig into my own roti, allowing my mouth to be filled with that salty fish taste melting along my tastebuds, the curry spices giving it the nice tangy kick you wouldn’t find anywhere else. The roti is soft and practically melts on my tongue and I can’t help but moan at how good it is.

“God, this is everything I’ve been looking for my whole life,” I find myself telling him, wrapped up in momentary bliss, “this, this is everything.”

I can feel his eyes on me, so intense that my own flicker up in question. He drops his gaze the moment I do and I frown, confused.

“What?” I can’t help but ask, wondering why he suddenly seems so meek, so shy and awkward, “what is it?”

“Nothing,” he replies like he’s trying to be casual, except that it’s anything but. When he gazes back at me, I notice the warmth in his maroon eyes, more the color of caramel in the dim light from the sunset basking his profile in a golden glow, “I think--I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you so happy, since...”

He doesn’t need to continue, for I know where this is going. Indeed, this is the first time in many months that I haven’t paid any attention to the hole inside my heart.

And it feels good.

“Yeah,” I murmur as I watch the sun settle on the ocean’s horizon, fire kissing water, “I don’t know, I just feel like this is nice. Like it’s right.”

I spare him a glance from the corner of my peripheral and watch him shift. His sleeveless shirt slips, allowing me a glimpse of the naked skin underneath. I quickly look away, slightly embarrassed at the notion of even thinking of him in such a way.

“That’s how you should be, Y/N,” Kevin murmurs back just as softly. It’s almost like talking too loudly will break the sudden spell that has settled over our shoulders. He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, “you’ve suffered enough for someone who deserves nothing but shit for what he’s done.”

There’s a small pause as I digest his words. Then, I manage to murmur out, “thanks, Kevin.”

“No problem.”

Another small bout of silence ensues, covered up by the sound of the ocean roaring up the sand, distant birds chirping in the fading light of the sunset drowning into the now orange-flecked waters.

“Hey Y/N.”

I glance at him. He’s gorgeous, even more so somehow. Maybe it’s the time of the day, maybe it’s the mood, or maybe it’s the way my heart can’t help but be swallowed in gratefulness whenever I look at him.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you know water has memory?”

I choke on my beer, “do not-- and I mean this-- do not quote Frozen with me.”

“Huh, I tried.”

---------------------------

“So, Kevin huh?”

My eyes shoot up to meet Emma’s in her crusty-dust-filled mirror, presently lounging on her bed and flipping through a book as I had been trying on my bridesmaid gown. Kevin is downstairs, helping out with the barbeque grill with the rest of the family, and it is only now that I get to have some alone time with the woman I consider my sister.

She’s the only one that knew the exact details of my breakup, and that Kevin is only a mere replacement to cover my humiliated ass. I remember her trying to calm me down when I had called in a frenzy, practically hyperventilating because of the amount of pain that gripped at my heart and was choking me of all air.

I revert my eyes back to the dress, a baby blue as bright as a summer sky, and smooth my hands down my sides, “he’s been so good to me, ever since…” I can’t finish the sentence, voice already wobbling at the thought that comes with it.

“Hey,” Emma’s murmur causes me to look up, and in her eyes I see a flicker of understanding, “he’s not worth it.”

“I know,” I swallow back the tears crawling up my throat, “I know, it’s just--a hard pill to swallow.”

A hand comes to a rest at my elbow, before my cousin tucks her chin atop my shoulder, “it’ll be alright, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you."

I nod. Then, just to change the subject so that I don’t break down in her arms, I gesture towards the dress, “so? How does it look?”

Emma tugs at some pieces here and there, rearranging the fabric as she sees fit, “I think it looks good. You look gorgeous. Kevin will swoon, for sure.”

“It’s not like that,” I hurriedly say as I strip out of the dress and put it back on its hanger, “we’re just friends.”

“Mhm,” she throws me a pointed look, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “'just friends' doesn't feel right..”

“Emma, really? Right after my breakup?”

“He came to Mauritius just for you Y/N,” she squeezes my shoulders comfortingly, “doesn’t that count for something?”

“Well, we’ve been friends since high school so…”

“I don’t think just any friend in high school would do such a thing if I asked,” Emma catches my eye in the mirror, her gaze deep and meaningful, “just think about that.”

I just nod in hopes that she’ll stop yapping away at my nonexistent relationship with Kevin, whatever that means. The hole in my heart is still so raw and filled with pain that I can’t even start thinking about another relationship. The thought alone is enough to drain me of all energy and I decide to brush it off for now as I follow Emma out in the backyard now filled with familiar chatter and the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air, with the sky bruising a soft purple to signal the end of a long summer day.

Catching sight of Kevin as I bring out one of the many salad bowls that my family has prepared, my lips can’t help but twitch into a slow smile when I see him by the grill, whipping away the multitudes of flies zipping back and forth as my other cousin deftly flips the sausages upside down with a trained rhythm that only years of experience can bring.

“Kevin! You’re not doing your job right!” my cousin cries playfully. Kevin attempts to flap the newspaper around while screeching, “oh god, my eyes are burning!"

“Someone bring more meat!” My cousin hollers.

“There’s more?!”

“He’s doing a great job,” my grandmother’s voice brings my attention back to the salad bowl in my hands, and I quickly bend to kiss her cheek as she continues, “better than any of your other cousins. They never help out.”

“That’s because you pamper them too much, grandma,” I grin at her and follow her to the dining table where my aunts are already settling down amongst themselves.

The evening passes by with good food and good company, the sky darkening and dotting with a veil of stars that has Kevin gawking in awe. I'm not surprised, you don't see skies like that anywhere, a sky that isn't so intoxicated with modern chemicals. My uncles take it upon themselves to introduce Kevin to all the types of Mauritian delicacies, such as chickpea fritters we call 'gato pima', small balls of graped choko vegetable and minced pork 'niouk yen', and to top it all off, a plate of cornmeal pudding also known as 'pudine mai' that makes Kevin's eyes go wide with surprise.

"This is dessert?" He holds it up in his hand, "with ...cornmeal?"

"Sure is," one of my aunts chime in with a smile, "made it just this morning."

It's past midnight when we get back to our little apartment with Emma's dress hanging off my arms, which Kevin doesn't hesitate to grab from my hold despite my protests.

"It's fine dude," he flashes me a quick smile, albeit tired, and my heart does this weird little squeeze in my chest at his thoughtfulness.

He's kind. Too kind. I really don't deserve someone like him.

"I'm sorry," I say as we settle onto the small couch, shoulders fitted snugly against each other, "my family is kinda overwhelming."

"No no," Kevin looks over, edges of his lips curled up, "I actually love your family, you know."

My chest warms, "thanks."

There is a moment of silence that we enjoy, the day's events sinking into my bones.

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Hm?"

My eyes slide over to catch his, dark pools glimmering with a certain softness that catches my attention.

I bite my lip. It suddenly feels a little warm.

"What is it?" I ask, voice hoarse.

"Is oreo a sandwich?"

I sit up so suddenly that I jostle him, "wait--what?"

He grins up at me with that little nose scrunch that I can't help but find endearing, "is oreo a sandwich?" I open my mouth to answer but he beats me to it, "is cereal a soup?"

"Stop."

Reclining back to lace his hands at the back of his head, he says, "is ketchup a smoothie?"

"Stop it."

"What about hotdogs? Are they sandwiches?" He continues in a singsong voice and rolling my eyes, I make a move to punch him once more. But he's faster, hand shooting out to hold my wrists. He pulls me over and I stumble, knee pressing against the side of his leg.

"Come on. Answer it," he wriggles his eyebrows.

"Nope."

“Don’t be a party pooper.”

“You’re so annoying.”

"Are you sick of me yet?" His face is so close that I notice the creases at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

"That's an understatement."

"But really, do you think oreo is a sandwich?"

"No! Oreos are just oreos!"

“You’re no fun,” He pouts before finally releasing his hold. I draw back with a roll of my eyes, settling beside him once more and pillowing my head onto his shoulder.

Emma’s right. Kevin had sacrificed so much to be here with me, and he doesn’t even know Emma. Yet, he immediately dropped everything so that he could be my plus one, so that I wouldn’t have to face the music alone. The thought makes my heart swell with emotion and suddenly I’m all too aware of his presence beside me.

I shift to gaze at him, eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the indent above his lips before I whisper, “hey Kevin.”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you come?”

His eyes flicker over to mine then. A heartbeat passes. For a moment, I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat suddenly throbbing a little too loudly in my chest.

“Good question.”

Another pause.

“That’s not an answer,” I laugh slightly, to show that it’s all just fun and games.

But when I catch his eyes next, there’s something else brimming in them. They’re tender with emotion and it catches me so off guard that I almost don’t catch his next set of words:

“Because I care about you.”

My heart gives a quick lurch but I somehow can’t tear my gaze away. I want to say something. Anything.

But all I can muster is a soft, “oh.”

“Why do you ask?” he asks, voice hoarse.

I hesitate, “Emma asked why. And...I guess I wanted to know too.”

“Oh.”

The air feels heavy, heightened with the things that are threatening to slip off the edge of my tongue. A mixed series of ‘but why’s and ‘can’t you tell me more’ jumbling up my thoughts with so many possibilities that I decide to stay quiet for the sake of not ruining the moment. Because there’s this lingering fear that once I do say something, then it’ll just pull me down a rabbit hole that I can’t crawl out of, that the only escape lies on the other side.

And I don’t know if I want to take that leap yet. My heart is already so fragile with the aftermath of a love that went wrong. I don’t know how much more I can take.

So I just stay quiet and let out a soft sigh, and though Kevin shifts as if he wants to say something, he doesn’t. The question just hangs there between us, in-between the slithers of moonlight and in the cold Moka air, like a perpetual ghost we ignore as we drift off to sleep.

----------

Something shifts between us after that. It’s unspoken of, but suddenly, I am all too aware of Kevin as a whole. Things that I hadn’t noticed before surface as we spend most of our free time visiting the rest of the island; like how he loves ruffling his hair whenever he feels uncomfortable, or the way his bicep curls as his arm drapes over the wheel with the barest hint of muscle that is enough to be attractive yet subtle, or how he smirks in that attractive way of his whenever he thinks something is undeniably adorable.

The good thing about having Kevin is that I don’t get to think of him all too much, which is a blessing in itself. It’s been days since I’ve shed another tear and for that, I have to say I’m glad that I’m making progress.

We spent the last few days before the wedding traveling around the island to visit all the touristy spots that I know Kevin will enjoy, like a hike all the way to the top of Le Morne mountain, where I explain that’s where slaves would throw themselves off when their masters would find them. We visited Bois Cheri, a tea-making factory where Kevin had the pleasure of tasting all different kinds of teas cultivated in the fields below, and ate lunch on the Caudan Waterfront as we gazed at the boats lulling along the harbour.

“Woah, this place makes me feel like I’m in Aladdin somehow,” Kevin’s mouth is wide agape as his eyes try to take in the endless racks of stands selling fresh fruits and vegetables of the day. The Port-Louis Bazaar has always been one of my favourite places to visit, but it’s also one of the busiest. Even now as we attempt to squeeze our way through, people are jostling us here and there, causing me to press my bag to my chest in case any pickpockets are nearby. I prompt Kevin to do the same.

“Hey Y/N, I wanna check out the bags over there,” Kevin motions towards the hand-woven baskets situated at the far end of the market and I nod as we keep moving forward with the crowd like a pair of salmons trying to swim upstream. But there’s so many people, it’s so suffocating that it gets hard to keep up with Kevin’s figure. Someone elbows my shoulder and I groan, stumbling to the side in irritation, only to get pushed forward by another.

“Seriously--” I curse under my breath, when a hand suddenly appears before my eyes.

Looking up to see Kevin’s outstretched arm, I am only greeted with his bashful smile and averted eyes.

“Come on,” he doesn’t even wait for my consent before slipping his palm over my own and tugging me along, his hold firm and strong despite his skinny frame and the action is enough to render a flurry of butterflies soaring over my stomach.

Stop, I try telling my subconscious. That does nothing, however, to stop my neck from tingling with unfamiliar heat.

Kevin’s hand feels so warm. It’s comfortable, safe.

And I’m liking it a little too much.

He doesn’t let go when we reach the desired stand and talk over which bag looks the best and keeps his hand in mine for the entirety of our journey back to the car. Only when I unlock the doors that his palm finally drops from my hold and air rushes over my palm that is now a little too cold without his warmth. But while a multitude of questions are burning the back of my throat, they fall apart halfway through at the thought of his answer, before I decide to drop it altogether.

Kevin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem the least bit affected.

When the day of the wedding finally rolls around, I drive my car to Emma’s after a quick breakfast that Kevin surprised me with -- to my surprise, he’d managed to make a decent eggs and toast without burning the place down -- so that I can help her get into her gown and more importantly so that she doesn’t run away, lest her mind goes in a frenzy at the thought of tying the knot.

“You’ll be fine,” I reassure her, teasing a few of her curls so that they slip down to her chest in a perfect wave. She looks stunningly beautiful, with her strapless white dress that shimmers with diamonds in the light with every movement she makes.

I reach out to smooth over her veil so that it falls on either side of her face, frames her perfectly, and notice her big brown eyes staring back at me through her vanity mirror.

“You look beautiful,” I can’t keep the awe from my voice.

Her face blossoms into a smile, “you too.”

“Ah come on, you can’t say that to me on your wedding day,” I shove her playfully on the shoulder, “you’re the star of the show. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

“Okay mom,” she rolls her eyes before changing the subject, “So, how have things been? With Kevin?” My hands freeze in mid-action, “It’s good.”

I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s giving me a pointed look.

I sigh, “well, okay. Maybe you’re right. About the whole…’just friends’ thing not being true.”

“Why?” she straightens up, turns to me, “what happened? Did you kiss? Did he make a move--”

“No we didn’t kiss,” I’m quick to answer as my cheeks heat up. And after a few beats of hesitation, I give her a summary; the way he’d looked at me that night with eyes that held so much in them that it had made my chest swell, the way that he’d snitch glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention, and the fact that he’d grabbed my hand and didn’t let go even long after the crowd wasn’t an issue anymore.

Emma’s eyes are wide and sparkling with a feeling that I know all too well, I can practically see the cogs turning in her head and quickly shook mine in rapid retaliation, “Emma, no.”

“But--But he’s perfect for you!” she bellows in protest, “What do you mean ‘no’?!”

“I can’t go there. Not after,...not now, it’s too soon…”

She rolls her eyes, “it’s not like he’s asking you to marry him, christ’s sake. He likes you, and I feel like you’re only trying to deprive yourself because you feel like it’s not right.”

“It’s not right--”

“Who says so?” she cuts me off then, her gaze hardening on mine with such intensity it takes everything in me not to flinch back, “who says it’s not right? It doesn’t matter if it’s after two days, two weeks, two months. You think I don’t know how it feels to be heartbroken? You can’t just keep thinking about the past. You’re going to hurt yourself that way.”

My teeth sink down onto my lower lip, her words like ice-cold knives aimed straight at my chest.

“What you can control, right now, is the present, Y/N.”

“I know,” I mumble out half-heartedly.

“I can see it, you know, the way he looks at you,” she shakes her head, “even if you don’t like him back, you gotta be aware of all that he’s done for you.”

Her hands find their way to mine, enclosing them in her grasp before squeezing them with such care that I can’t stop the tears crawling up the back of my throat.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs next, “I don’t want to pressure you if that’s not how you feel. That--That was not my intention,” her eyes latch onto mine, filled with understanding, “I just want you to be happy.”

Happy.

That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time.

“Don’t you dare cry now,” Emma says while waving her hands around in warning, “you’re going to ruin your makeup and we definitely don’t want that.”

I sniffle, trying my best to hold in the tears now brimming through my eyes, “you’re right,” I attempt to smile, albeit it’s wobbly, “we don’t.”

“Come here,” she tugs my arm so that I fall into her embrace. Her head finds her way to my shoulder and she hugs me tight, not caring that her veil is getting all bunched up and wrinkled, “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, one hand stroking my back, “you’ll be just fine, little one.”

Then, pulling back and pushing a few strands away from my face, she flashes a bright smile, “we should probably head to the church soon.”

----------

“We now declare you, Vincent and Emma, as husband and wife.”

The church explodes in a round of applause and I join in the clapping, furiously trying to keep the tears of joy at bay. Vincent has been there for Emma ever since they met at work and it has been the most beautiful love story ever since; filled with the purest kind of love no one can imagine. Beside me, I feel Kevin’s hand coming to squeeze my shoulder in a reassuring manner and I feel warm all over despite the rush of emotion in my heart.

The wedding reception is to take place at a fancy restaurant overlooking the harbourfront. Our family has booked the venue for the evening, and as I enter, I take in the baby blue veils that come down each corner of the restaurant, sprinkles of glitter here and there as we make our way to our assigned tables that each have a baby blue napkin shaped in swans.

I don’t even have time to place my butt down when I hear a voice call out, “Y/N! Look how big you’ve gotten!”

Of course, big wedding ceremonies only mean that we get to meet all of our extended family that we haven’t seen since forever, and they’re all too happy to chat with me about living overseas. Soon enough, I’m bustled off to a table and look back over my shoulder to mouth a quick “I’m sorry” to Kevin. Bless his soul, for he only smiles and shakes his head, his hand motioning for me to go on.

I manage to catch up with cousins I haven’t seen since I was a little girl, talk over appetizers with excited aunts who want to know all about how it feels like to live away from family for such a long time, and nod along to the old uncles trying to get me to give a concrete answer about when and where will my wedding take place.

“Come on Y/N! You’re the next one after Emma for sure,” one of my uncles bellow, face flushed red as a result of the glasses of wine he has downed like water. He is Emma’s father, no surprise that he’ll want to get drunk from happiness and pride. It is his daughter’s wedding after all.

He leans close with a conspiratorial look in his eyes, “so tell me,” his eyes glance over to Kevin, currently deep in conversation with another one of my distant aunts. I watch as he says something to make her laugh, and something inside my chest warms at the action, “is he the lucky guy that’s going to ask for your hand?”

“Do you think he’s the one?” another uncle pipes up.

I purse my lips and attempt to shrug, “it’s early days,” I try laughing it off although it sounds forced, “who knows what can happen.”

“He’s a good kid,” an aunt says, “you know how we all have this sixth sense? Well Y/N, I have a good feeling about this young man. Don’t let him go. Something tells me he’s a keeper.”

A wild imaginative speculation, considering that we’re not even dating. But I nod along and say that yes, I’ll tell them whenever I decide to tie the knot.

It’s only when the dance floor opens and people start pooling onto the dance floor after the first dance -- led by no other than the bride and groom themselves -- that I finally allow myself to breathe. I find my way back to my chair, back to Kevin’s warm smile flashing in my direction as his eyes take in the fatigue lining my face.

“You look like you could use a drink,” is the first thing he tells me the moment I plop my butt onto my designed seat, the one that’s been kept cold ever since I stepped foot into the dining hall.

I gratefully accept the glass of wine he offers me, swallowing it down in a few gulps, “thanks,” I sigh with relief, “I needed that.”

“How was catching up with family?”

“It couldn’t be as bad as being left behind,” I peer over at him, guilt flooding me at the prospect of having left him all alone, “sorry. It’s just that everyone--”

“Oh stop that,” Kevin nudges my shoulder with his, “don’t be sorry. It’s totally normal. I’m happy for you. And I wasn’t left behind. I had a wonderful time talking to your aunt. She seemed so happy to tell me what your childhood was like.”

“Bet you liked that, didn’t you?”

“Hey, it works as blackmail. Why wouldn’t I like that?”

“Dork.”

“You’re friends with this dork.”

“Oh piss off,” I slap his shoulder playfully in retaliation, causing him to laugh softly as we watch couples glide across the dance floor like swans over water. The lights have dimmed, the yellow hues now replaced by soft cool blues and purples that cause Emma’s dress to shimmer every time she turns. She’s absolutely stunningly beautiful, and the way she and Vincent are gazing at each other just scream of pure love that wraps around them in a golden mist so enchantingly beautiful that I find myself catching my breath in the back of my throat.

“She’s so beautiful,” the words fall from my mouth without meaning to, and I feel Kevin’s eyes on my face from the corner of my peripheral.

“You are too.”

I bite my lip and narrow my eyes at him playfully, “thanks, but why do I have a feeling that this isn’t a compliment?”

“It isn’t,” he holds my gaze, “it’s just the truth.”

Emotion lodges at the back of my throat. I stare at him. He stares back, a glimmer of tenderness echoing through the dark pools of black, his whole expression relaxed into a face that appears flooded with affection for--

Me.

For some reason, no words seem to come to me as I open my mouth and close it. Embarrassment slowly bubbles through my stomach. I look away, unable to contain the goosebumps suddenly exploding across the back of my neck with that same familiar uncomfortable sensation I keep getting around him these days. Like I’m standing atop a cliff and preparing myself to jump.

“Wanna dance?”

I blink in surprise, before turning to the said young man beside me who has his head cocked to the side with that same expression. My heart can’t help but squeeze inside my chest before I push down the rising protest searing through my brain.

I nod. And off we go onto the dance floor. His hands settle on my waist, mine atop his shoulders in a casual sling. There’s enough distance between our bodies to show that we’re not together and yet, I can’t deny that electrical tension that keeps on pulling me towards Kevin like a magnet. I wonder if he feels it too, that searing heat that is so palpable I can feel sweat break out from the back of my neck. Asking, though, would mean that I’m aware of what’s happening, asking would imply that I want something to happen.

Maybe I do.

Maybe I do want to grab life by the reins myself and steer it wherever I want it to go.

“What are you thinking about?”

I blink. Right up into Kevin’s brown orbs, his hair catching the shades of blue from the disco balls. My throat runs dry.

“Uh--” my mind tries to scramble for a response, any response, “just--uhm, it’s kind of like our last day here.”

He cocks his head, “sad?”

“Kinda. I like it here,” my eyes brush over Emma and Vincent’s forms in the vicinity, catch my grandma sitting at one of the tables, little cousins running all over the place. Then, I look back at the said young man gazing at me with that undecipherable look in his eyes that makes my heart sing, and try not to squirm as I continue softly, “it feels like home.”

“We can always come back,” he uses ‘we’ as though it’s now an adventure kept between the two of us, a secret to our own little neverland that nobody knows about. I can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Do you want to come back?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I want to come back. The views are amazing, the food is out of this world, and your family has been really kind to me.”

“I’m sorry, they are kind of overbearing when you first get to know them.”

“I love it,” Kevin says seriously, “I love that they’re overbearing. Couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

If I had any doubts, the sincerity dripping from his eyes is enough to wipe out any suspicions left from his compliment. The sudden urge to hug him rocks through me and my hands fist on the back of his shirt in response.

We keep on dancing silently, bobbing from one foot to another for a few minutes more before he speaks up softly.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I wouldn't mind getting married here.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “really now?”

“Yup,” he grins, “really.”

“Your future wife will have me to thank for that.”

“Maybe my future wife won’t have to thank you.”

There it is. That same borderline flirting that’s been happening for days on end.

“And why is that?” I probe, partly just to tease him, and partly because I just want to know.

“Maybe she might be right here, in this room.”

“Didn’t know you were into one of my cousins,” I start looking around the room, only for one of his hands to cup my cheek to turn my face back to his.

There is none of that teasing glimmer now. His eyes are darker, gazing down at me with such emotion that the breath catches in the back of my throat and the air halts in my lungs. We gaze at each other for a few beats longer, before I feel his thumb graze my cheek. Gently, so gently like he’d stroke a flower petal.

Swallowing at the heat of his hand cupping the side of my face, my hands unconsciously tighten on the back of his neck. He senses my nervousness, but only pulls me slightly closer so that we are mere millimeters from each other, noses hovering over each other in a space that causes my heart to stutter inside my chest.

When he opens his mouth next, his alto is hoarse, pent-up with emotion.

“I wasn’t talking about your cousins.”

My heart practically jumps to my throat, teeth biting onto my lip.

I can’t hear the music, nor the people. I can’t hear anything except for my pounding heart and Kevin’s soft breaths washing over my face.

His eyes search mine and we hold gazes for a moment too long.

“Y/N?”

I press my lips together, “Y-Yes?”

He moves even closer then so that his nose brushes mine in the most intimate of ways.

“I--”

“Y/N! I was looking all over for you!”

We spring apart like we just got burnt just in time for one of my cousins to grab onto my arm. He sends an apologetic smile at Kevin, before explaining, “we just need to sort out the takeaways. She’ll be back in a second!”

And without listening to my protests, he proceeds to drag me away from the said young man on the dancefloor. I look back, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry” once more -- it’s the second time that night!-- and see the raven-haired man laugh good-naturedly before shaking his head and waving me away. That does nothing to keep my heart from cartwheeling out of my chest, swelling up with such affection that I grin back despite the earlier predicament.

One thing’s for sure: I’m not done talking with Kevin Moon yet.

----------

I find him sitting alone in the tiny garden that overlooks the decorated pavillon a few hours later. His figure, illuminated by the soft yellow hues of interior light, seems to glow in the dark, the moon bouncing off his hair and catching the strength of his cheekbone when he turns and catches me staring. He only smiles though -- that beautiful tender smile that I keep seeing more and more these days -- before waving me over.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” I ask as I reach his figure. A soft breeze dances along the back of my spine, cool in contrast to the warm stickiness of the air.

“Your smaller cousin was showing me what she’d learnt in astronomy at her school,” he tilts his head up at the sky, “she’s quite the prodigy at that.”

“The next woman to land on the moon,” I joke.

“Jeez, I should get her autograph.”

“Wise idea,” that’s when I feel his hand slip into mine and I look down at him, blinking. He grins a little shyly, before tugging me forward so that I all but stumble right into him, halfway sprawled across his lap.

Heat explodes through my chest at the proximity of our bodies and I can’t help but avert my gaze from his, partly embarrassed that maybe there might be someone around to see, and partly because it’s only recently that I’ve started seeing Kevin in a new light that being so close makes my heart choke up and my mind to run blank.

We’re close. So close I feel his breath mingle with mine. My hands settle atop his chest lightly, “Kev,” I breathe out but nothing follows, too scared to verbally voice out what is going on for fear that it might all crumble into nothing.

I don’t want false hope. I also don’t want his heart -- or mine -- to break.

This friendship is too precious to let go. I can’t imagine a life without Kevin in it.

“Listen Y/N,” Kevin’s voice is soft, a hushed murmur resonating through his chest as his eyes search mine, “I think we both know what’s happening here.”

I nod mutely.

Taking a shaky breath, he continues, “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you. I know it’s been tough and that you’re still healing. I just--I just want to know.”

As his words wash over me as gently as the forest leaves rustling around us, I feel the warmth of his hand cupping my cheek, holding me like I am fine china and stroking my skin with his thumb so that butterflies suddenly rush along my middle.

I bite my lip so hard I can taste blood, " I-- well, I think you already know how I feel."

"I know," he breathes, "but I need to hear it from you."

As if it isn't hard enough to come face to face with my own feelings, having Kevin stare me down as though I put the moon in his sky makes me want to squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.

“I like you,” I blurt out then, “a lot.”

There is a few seconds delay, before a shit-- eating grin --the biggest I’ve ever seen -- spreads across Kevin’s face like sunshine peeking through the clouds.

“Enough for us to go on a date?”

I nod mutely. I don’t trust my voice, not right now when I already feel so pathetic. Kevin’s grin softens into a tender smile, one that I can’t help but return when our eyes meet in the most intimate of ways. Suddenly, the air feels charged and alive with electricity, the heat between our bodies palpable as his hand moves to the back of my neck.

He tugs. I follow.

His lips find mine mid-way in a delicate kiss.

It’s soft. Softer than any kiss I’ve ever had. Kevin’s mouth parts over my own in a gentle caress, before he tilts his head to the side and captures my lower lip between his.

I gasp slightly at the contact, hands unconsciously tightening around his neck.

Slowly leaning away, I notice the film of lust like a dull glow at the back of his maroon orbs, just the slightest hint that he wants me as a woman. And that makes my lungs constrict, air suddenly halting in the back of my throat.

My skin is prickling with the aftermath of his touch. I let out a soft breath before he covers my mouth with his once more and all thoughts fly out of my brain the moment he does.

I don’t really know how long we spend outside, exchanging the softest of kisses underneath the moonlight, until I hear the soft exclamations of my family’s voices suggesting that it is time to head home. So I part from the said man and can’t help but blush at the lack of space between our bodies.

“We should probably head back,” I hate how wanton I sound, like I’ve just sprinted a mile when in truth I’ve been sitting in this very spot for the last hour.

He agrees and I descend from his lap, his hand subtly finding mine as we walk back to the wedding hall.

Emma is still saying her goodbyes, her hair now dotted with glitter, probably from the decorations that my younger cousins took pleasure in bathing her in. Her face lights up as soon as she spots our entwined hands and I try not to meet her eyes for I know exactly the kind of smug look she'll be giving me.

"Enjoyed the wedding?" She says as soon as we're within earshot.

"That must've been the best cake I've had in my life," Kevin lets out a dramatic sigh, "and that says something."

"Do I trust your taste buds though?" She teases.

"I'd be offended if you didn't," he gasped in mock offense, before they both break into playful chuckles.

As we exchange our goodbyes and Vincent engages Kevin in a conversation, Emma takes this chance to drag me to her side as she whispers, "so you gonna tell me the tea or am I going to have to extract it from you?"

I press my lips together as I try to control the heat searing through the back of my neck, "...we kissed."

She gasps, "No way! OH MY GOD! Are you guys a thing then?!" The answer is as clear as water on my face and she clamps a hand over her mouth, would've jumped up and down if she could've, "OH MY, OH MY GOD. I knew it! I just knew this was going to happen--"

"Shut up!" I hiss, scared that Kevin might overhear and think I'm a big fat tattle tale. My eyes quickly swivel over to his and I'm glad to find his head bent towards Vincent in concentration.

"You need to tell me everything," Emma's eyes are sparkling, "like--as soon as you have some free time."

"You--" I send her a pointed look, then jerk my head at Vincent, "--need to tell me everything."

"Oh I will, don't worry."

"Anyway, I'll talk to you after your honeymoon."

"Okay," I turn around to find Kevin, not failing to notice the smirk playing on Emma's lips. I slap her arm in response, causing her to laugh before she calls out:

"Don't forget to use protection!"

-----------

"We'll come back right?"

That's the first thing that Kevin states as soon as we step inside security, away from the tears of my family that I just left behind a few seconds ago. My heart still aches when I think of their faces, all crumpled and blinking at me with tissues in hand and noses as red as traffic lights. But I seek comfort upon feeling Kevin's hand slip through mine as we walk towards our destined gate.

"Sure," I look at him; at his red-tinted cheeks (probably the aftermath of a sunburn), his newly tanned skin a fresh contrast against his white shirt, and the permanent grin that seems impossible to wipe off his face. My heart instantly flutters.

It's only been a few days since we've confessed our growing romantic interest in each other, but I can already feel the weight of his love pouring out of his heart and into mine the moment he realized that my arms would be there to catch him when he fell.

"I'm not going to wake up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, am I?" He’d joked when we stumbled, half-asleep, into Emma's flat after the wedding.

I frowned at him, "Why would you think that?"

"Just in case you think that kissing me was a mistake."

A small pause ensued, in which I realized that despite all my fears and all the pain I had been carrying in my heart ever since we landed on my motherland, I had not once considered how Kevin might be feeling at this very moment.

My eyes quickly took note of his countenance, sweeping right up to his face only to notice the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth were tense, cheekbones taught against his skin as he awaited for my answer with baited breath.

Clearing my throat, I whispered, "it wasn't."

A soft smile tugged at his lips, "good to know."

His answer seemed so genuine, so wholehearted that my chest tightened in a mixture of gratefulness and affection, so much so that my arms automatically reached for him to tug him close. My nose found its rightful place at his neck and I breathed in his comforting lilac smell that I enjoyed so much.

I felt him take a breath. Then, softly, a hand caressed the back of my head. I buried even closer if that was possible.

"I really want this to work," my words were a muffled mess and I was surprised that he understood.

"Me too," he murmured into my hair, "and it will work. I promise I won't break your heart Y/N."

Looking back now at this tender moment in which we both weren't certain of where we were stepping, I can't help but laugh at the thought, for now the love and attraction is so natural I'm amazed it has taken this long to flourish.

Maybe I hadn't been looking the right way. Maybe I had been searching so far out and wide that I hadn't noticed that my safe harbour is the one standing right beside me.

"Hey Kevin," I call out.

Kevin turns towards me, where he'd been watching planes take off from the ground into the gorgeously blue sunny sky.

"Yeah?"

“I’m really glad you came.”

There's a few beats of silence although his mouth immediately cracks into that gorgeous, crooked grin of his that I adore so much.

“Me too.”

----

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pagingevilspawn · 4 years

Text

Loving You Is A Losing Game- chapter seven

i actually hate this, so ew. but i’ve forgotten that i write, so i’ll try to type some stuff up tomorrow! regardless, i hope everyone enjoys! click here to read on ao3.

TW// domestic abuse

~*~

"small town boy in a big arcade. i got addicted to a losing game."

~*~

alexandra: you do realize how crazy that sounds right?

joseph: it's not crazy at all if you ask me.

alexandra: jo, asking for lollipops for your christmas present sounds very crazy to me.

and christmas isn't for like, a while.

joseph: dude, christmas is in two weeks and one day

and plus, i'm settling on lollipops. what i really want is a pony, a shiny, pretty one with rainbow hair, you know those? that's my dream right there

alexandra: oh crap really?

yeah yeah, ha ha. laughing so much right now.

joseph: hate to break it to you, but it's the 10th alex.

and i know, what a shame i wont be able to have my pony. it was at the top of my list this year

next to an ice cream sundae the size of manhattan, obviously.

alexandra: very funny. can't you tell how much i'm laughing.

crap, got to go, robbins is letting me in on an esophageal atresia on a newborn. i'm her favorite you know.

joseph: ugh, lucky.

make sure to kick ass and not kill anyone. that would suck.

actually... your big head could use some ego deflating. make sure robbins has to save you halfway through. maybe then you'll earn some humility.

alexandra: wow, you're such great help. so nice too.

joseph: you know it ;)

she turns off her phone, a small smile on her face as she looks out the window, passing by houses that all looked exactly alike; white exteriors with a bright green lawn. the only thing that could help someone tell them apart was the door colors. her and paul had just come back from a dinner with some of his coworkers, but he wasn't talking to her so she decided to text alex. the silence in the car was tense, though she was unable to grasp the reason why.

they'd been texting non-stop since the conference three weeks ago, talking about each other's days, complaining about annoying coworkers and classmates. they really enjoyed having a friend they could just talk to because they felt like it. it was refreshing. they'd never had anyone like that before. in the past they had friends that they felt comfortable around, but it was different when you had someone who understood you so well. not to mention, being able to make self deprecating jokes about their crappy childhoods and receive a laugh in response was so much nicer than the pity stares they were both so used to getting,

she snaps back to reality at the sound of the engine turning off, cutting the music as the expensive car door opens. she sees paul angrily walk out of the car, slamming the door behind him, not stopping by her side of the car to open the door for her like he normally did. (she was actually thankful for that. she was a grown women, she could open a damn door herself)

weird, she thinks, but decides not to question it. her husband had been a bit more moody and temperamental lately, so she supposed it was just that. but the dinner seemed to go really good in her opinion. she got along with his colleagues and paul certainly enjoyed himself, getting to be around all his coworkers and interact freely. she liked to think that his colleagues liked her as well. they complimented her all evening and included her in all of their conversations. though, she did wish that they would've referred to her by her name more, rather than 'mrs. stalder' or 'paul's wife.'

she gets out of the passenger side and shuts the door behind her, walking up to the steps after she hears that paul had locked the car. she places the small clutch she had on the entry table and walks to the kitchen, seeing paul sitting at the kitchen island, nothing in front of him except tea that he had heated up in the minute or so he'e been in there. she kisses his cheek and starts talking, knowing that it would probably help calm whatever he was feeling.

she gives him a smile, rubbing his shoulder affectionately. "it seemed like the dinner went really well, all of your coworkers are super nice and-"

"you talked to steven too much." he cuts her off, sending an icy glare her way, and look she had never seen on him before shining darkly in his eyes.

she cocks her head to the side, "huh?"

he stands up from his place abruptly, making her jump back slightly. "i said," he spits out, eyes narrowing as he stares her down "you talked to steven too much."

she lets out a loud laugh, thinking that he was just joking around and messing with her. at any second he was going to join her giggling, ignoring the way his eyes had only seemed to darken the second the sounds had escaped her mouth."oh, that's funny." she says in between laughs, eyes shining with childish glee. "jesus you really scared m-"

pain.

her words get cut off by a fist coming directly into contact with her face. she feels the stinging sensation burn from her eye to her cheek, her brown eyes watering with tears as she realizes what had just happened. she lifts a palm up to touch it protectively, almost making it seem like it was more real if she touched it.

oh god, it hurt. it hurt like hell. his gold wedding band adding to the impact was sure to leave a scar by the corner of her eye. she'd been punched before, multiple times actually by foster parents and girls while she was in high school, but this hurt so much more. it was so much harder than she'd ever been hit before.

her husband just hit her.

"oh brooke, baby." paul says, taking her into his arms and brushing her hair back immediately, trying to get her to relax into his embrace. "i just got so mad. you just made me so mad brooke. you can't make me mad like that" he tells her, eyes dripping with some kind of emotion she can't place as he places light kisses on top of her sea of brown curls, ignoring the way the way she stood stiffly in his arms, a few lone tears making it's way down her cheeks.

"i love you. you know that brooke" he whispers, wiping the tears from her face, his hands feeling usually rough against her skin, his touch not easing over the bruise that hard already begun to form.

she nods. it was okay. he loved her. he didn't mean it. he just got angry. it was okay. it was fine. he loved her, it was okay.

she thought she probably deserved it. after all she'd cheated on her husband just three weeks before, and had continued to keep in contact with the man she had cheated with. it was only karma.

"i'm sorry paul." she apologizes sincerely as he cups her face in his hands, giving her a sweet smile. it wasn't his fault. it was hers.

"it just better not happen again." he states, eyes burning into hers intently, his grip on her face tightening without her even realizing it. all she really felt was numb, as if all of her senses had seemingly shut down to avoid dealing with the pain that was spreading throughout the side of her face.

she nods her head up and down as she pulls her back into him. "i'm sorry" she whispers into his chest.

he smiled.

and that's when he knew he had her.

____

alex finished scrubbing out of a surgery, shaking off the excess water on his hands, grinning internally. it was always so much better when he was able to help save a kid. the success was just that much more fulfilling. he's about to push the door open when it swings in itself, making him come face to face with cristina, the expression she was wearing was more worried looking than he'd seen in a long time. he'd known yang for a while know, and he knew whatever was about to come out of her mouth would be bad. cristina yang was never worried.

"what do you want yang?" he asks, noting how she had her hands crossed over her chest and was avoiding his gaze.

"there's a merger happening." she says, looking up to meet his eyes to let him know that she was serious.

his narrows his eyes, scrunching up his nose. "what?" he questions. a merger? as in, combing two hospitals into one?

"you just missed the announcement. apparently we're merging with mercy west." the raven head repeats, a slight trace of fear in her voice, a very unusual thing for cristina yang.

he lets out a deep breath, tugging his scrub cap off and running a hand through his hair as he leans over the scrub sink, gripping it so tightly his knuckles begin to turn white. "i can't loose this job yang." he says to her softly, making her nod in agreement.

"you and me both." with that she walks out of the room, alex not far behind her, both of the surgeons heading up to the resident's lounge to change, which was filled to the brim with chatter, all of the doctors talking about the newest topic, the merger.

meredith sits down next to him, slipping a long sleeved purple shirt over her head when she casts a glance to alex, who was sitting still looking down at his phone's empty screen, seemingly deep in thought, almost as if he was waiting for something to magically appear on it.

the blonde nudges him, snapping him out of his trance. alex sighs, resting his elbows on his knees as he buries his head in his hands. "what am i gonna do about iz?" he asks her, judging by her face that she was drawing a blank, much like him.

jesus, this was great. these past few weeks he had hardy been able to look his wife in the eye, because every time he saw her he was reminded that he slept with someone else. not to mention, he was just texting that certain someone just a few hours ago. he was really screwed. izzie had currently been home on bedrest, not being allowed to return to work until two weeks from now, which apparently would also be when the mercy westers would turn up. fucking great. he felt as if the universe was rallying against him at this point, no matter how much he knew that wasn't possible. he dug his own grave, it was just a matter of time before he would need to lay in it.

"she'll be okay." meredith reassures him, but he can tell by the look on her face that she was unsure as well. who knew would end up getting cut? they would need to pull their heads out of their asses and prove that they deserved to stay. none of them could lose their spot. not only because of their job, but also because of the people there. they were a family. they couldn't lose any more of their family. they'd just lost george, and they couldn't lose another.

"evil spawn, put on a shirt!" cristina yells, balling up a shirt from his locker and throwing it at him, hitting him square in the chest as he glares at her. he pulls on the shirt silently and heads out, not bothering to say goodbye to anybody as he leaves the lounge and heads straight to joe's across the street.

he slides onto a barstool, ordering a beer and thanking the bartender with a slight nod of his head. how was he supposed to tell izzie about the merger? he knew that if his wife knew, she would want to return to work immediately, but he knew she couldn't do that. she was still getting her strength back, and standing around on her feet all day surely would delay the healing process. he couldn't risk her getting hurt because he wasn't able to stop her.

he'd done enough recently, even if izzie didn't know about most of it. the last thing he needed was to cause his wife more harm than he already had.

he was going to tell her, he knew that, just not right now. right now he was going to sit on this uncomfortable wooden bar stool and drink his beer and forget he had any problems. he was going to forget about the merger, he was going to forget about him and izzie going at it twenty-four seven, and he was definitely going to forget about the brunette with a fake name who seemed to be on his mind all the time.

he was just going to forget everything, his only focus being his beer and the football game on the small television above the bar. yeah, that sounded like a good idea. a really good idea.

____

okay, so he forgot about two out of those three things.

he was actually doing pretty good for a while, almost a full hour with nearly a beer and a half finished. all he had been focused on was the seahawks playing against the steelers, with the steelers crushing the seattle team thirty-four to seven. not much of a surprise though, he couldn't remember the last time he'd witnessed the seahawks win. it wasn't that they were a completely crap team, it was simply the fact that one; the steelers were much better this year, and two; he hardly ever got enough time to sit down and watch a game. being a resident drained the life out of him, especially since he had finally knew that he wanted to specialize in peds. when he wasn't at the hospital he was reading up new medical procedures in magazines, or occasionally sneaking over to meredith's to watch old ellis grey tapes.

he was doing really... until he got a text message from jo.

joseph: how was your surgery?

alexandra: wow, you must be bored.

joseph: ...

what makes you say that?

alexandra: really?

joseph: i'm in med school, thank you very much. i have a severe interest in your surgeries.

alexandra: mhm, sure.

joseph: fine, i'm bored. entertain me. please.

alexandra: that sounds vaguely dirty.

joseph: oh great. how drunk are you?

alexandra: what makes you say that?

haha, two can play that game.

joseph: i'm guessing two beers in?

alexandra: shut up, only one and a half.

joseph: mhm, wasn't too far off

but seriously. i'm bored and am in need of anything remotely interesting. you just scrubbed in on a super cool surgery, i want details

alexandra: fine, baby maria duboir, two weeks old, robbins let me lead the procedure about half way through, coded once, we then shocked her at 150, and now she is stable and in the NICU.

happy?

joseph: yes. very much so

although i do think your OR stories need work

you sound like you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about

alexandra

wow. you're a real delight you know that?

joseph: oh, believe me, i know. don't even get me started on how many times people have complimented how freaking amazing i am

it's quite a common occurrence.

if i had a dollar for every time someone said that to me, i'd be living on my own private island

alexandra: i bet you would.

seriously though, tell me something. i've got nothing better to do than watch the seahawks get crushed.

joseph: i'm guessing that's sports talk, so i'm just gonna ignore that, since it hate any sport where men look like giant block of cheese, run around a court, or just run in general.

but today's been boring. went to a dinner tonight. fancy stuck-up rich people who laugh with posh accents and sip their champagne way too slowly

fucking turtles.

alexandra: sounds fun.

joseph: you suck. i can literally hear the sarcasm through the phone asshole

alexandra: that's the point. i'll take a sick kid over fancy dinner any day.

crap, that sounded really horrible didn't it?

joseph: it really did

"i'll take a sick kid over a fancy dinner any day" real charming if you ask me. night in shining amour.

alexandra

yeah yeah you know what i mean.

____

they're not sure how long they end up talking for, alex siting at joe's bar and jo lounging on the couch in her living room while her husband was in his study going over and grading tests for one of his classes. before either one of them even know it, it gets to be twelve thirty boston time and nine thirty in seattle. alex's texts had gotten much harder to read, which made sense, considering he was now on his third beer.

jo teased him about it though, finding it more enjoyable than she would've guessed to text a drunk alex than a sober one. he seemed to get increasingly flirtier the tipsier he got. not to mention, all the spelling mistakes he made was definitely one for the books. she had a feeling that it was getting a but harder for him to see which letters where which, considering a few b's were located where there should be d's, and 'm' where they should be an 'n'

alex knows for a fact he's earning many stares from fellow people at the bar because of how much he's laughing (loudly too), but he doesn't really care. if he's gonna laugh, he's gonna laugh. all he could really focus on was the fluorescent lights hanging from the bar's wood ceiling and the frankly hilarious texts coming through his phone. (okay, so they weren't that funny, but everything is always a lot more funny when you're drunk)

jo was thoroughly enjoying herself, laughing more and more as she sank into the couch, completely forgetting about the bruise on her left cheek as she typed away, grinning from ear to ear when the man on the other side responded, words misspelt and random numbers and semicolons popping up from time to time.

they knew that what they had done was wrong. they knew that what they were doing was wrong. but they couldn't stop.

if only they had stopped sooner.

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thejolexgroupchat · 4 years

Text

the one where they met in med school - part sixteen

hospital mergers and new friends

Hi everyone! Hope you are having a wonderful holiday season. We are so excited for you to read this next part. Let us know what you think in the comments. Happy reading!!

@iamtrebleclefstories @doc-pickles and Nat!

———

(July 2008)

"Today's the day," Jo announced as she walked into Meredith's hospital room, a bowl of soup in hand. She placed the steaming bowl on the bedside tray in front of Meredith. "I saw a whole bunch of people in orange scrubs swarm into the lobby when we walked in. I didn't feel like socializing with them so early, so I changed quickly and I decided to come see you."

"I know. I saw them all walk past my room. I can't believe I'm stuck in this bed while the Mercy-Westers try to steal our jobs," Meredith groaned. "I just had to go and donate part of my liver to my father so that my sister wouldn't lose another parent."

"And Lexie loves you all the more for it," Jo grinned. "Look, if it's any consolation, I made everyone promise we'd come in to update you on how things are going."

“Thank you,” Meredith clutched Jo’s hands gratefully. “Wait, isn’t today your first day as a resident? Why aren’t you in the lounge?”

“Because Webber is assigning each of us a resident from Mercy West that will shadow us today to get familiar with and I really do not want to be shadowed by the enemy today,” Jo huffed in annoyance. “I’m already frustrated because Izzie interrupted Alex and I this morning because she wanted to borrow one of my long sleeves. So, I never got laid.”

Meredith laughed, “I hope that Derek and I are still as crazy about each other as you two are after four and a half years together.”

“You know, before Alex, I never knew it could be that good,” Jo thought back to the early days of their relationship. “I swear I had more sex that first week of our relationship than I’d had in my entire life, up until that point. I’ve had great sex before and it’s not like I didn’t love sex before, but I swear, Meredith, Alex awoke something in me that I didn’t know existed. It was just… different with him. And it still is. Every single time I feel like I might burst at the seams.”

“Wow, Wilson. Alex is that good in bed?” Meredith chuckled as she teased her friend a bit.

“Even better,” Jo hummed, joining in on Meredith’s joke. “You really have no idea. He is… talented.”

"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there because I definitely do not want to hear what Alex is like in bed," Meredith shuddered. "You need to go to the resident's lounge and find your Mercy-Wester. Don't want to be late."

"Ugh, fine," Jo frowned and stood up from where she had perched herself on Meredith's bed. "I'll be back later with updates."

***

“Hey,” Jo met up with Alex in the hallway and smiled. “I thought you were in the lounge.”

“No, I dropped off my stuff while Webber was giving them the tour and his speech so that I didn’t have to associate with them,” Alex said as he smoothed down his scrub top. “I left my pager in my cubby though, so I had to come back.”

“Well, you know you’re getting assigned a resident from Mercy West right?” Jo reminded him.

“Dammit,” Alex frowned. “I forgot about that.”

As they approached the lounge, they heard some commotion coming from inside.

“I said take it out.”

“Great. I got the crazy one next to me.”

“Oh, you want to fight? Cause I will.”

Alex and Jo walked into the lounge and watched Izzie stand up in front of a woman in orange scrubs. The pair raised their eyebrows and called out to her, “Izzie! Iz.”

“I will fight you. You’re pretty tiny,” Izzie’s tall frame loomed over the pixie-haired woman’s. “I could take you down in just a couple of seconds.”

Alex reached out to grab Izzie’s arms, pulling her back from the other resident, “Come on. Come on.”

“Stop!” Izzie protested.

“Come on,” Alex continued to pull her back away from the group and pushed her out the door, Jo grabbing his pager and following them out the door.

“They took George’s cubby,” Izzie finally explained as she, Cristina, Lexie, Alex, and Jo stood over the balcony, watching as the orange scrubs moved around the hospital.

Jo put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Okay, I say we go hang out in Mer’s room.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cristina turned and led the way back to their friend’s hospital room.

“They’re locusts,” Meredith said as they finally arrived and updated her about this morning’s occurrences. “Comfortable locusts, feeding on our surgeries.”

“It’s rude,” Izzie popped a grape into her mouth. “There should at least be a couple days where they act like guests before they put their feet up on the coffee table.”

“And what’s with orange scrubs?” Lexie peeked through the window into the hallway. “What, ours aren’t good enough for ‘em?”

“We ran out. They’re on back order,” Jo informed. “Randall from the supply company says they’ll be here in a week.”

“Why bother ordering new ones when we can just give these to our replacements?” Cristina deadpanned.

“We’re not gonna be replaced by anybody,” Alex shook his head.

“They’re here. It’s over,” Cristina sighed and sat down in one of the chairs.

“Hey. We are not some stupid hosts. They can’t invade us,” Meredith shook her head. “They can’t attach themselves to our faces and then while we’re eating spaghetti, explode out of our chests and skitter across the floor. This is our ship. This is our ship.”

Lexie wrinkled her brow, “Excuse me. Are you—are you quoting a Sigourney Weaver movie?”

“Shut up,” Meredith shrugged.

Izzie chuckled, “That’s what happens when you live here. You watch a lot of TV.”

“We own this hospital,” Meredith looked around the room at her friends. “We were born in this hospital. And we will hold this hospital with our last gasping breath. Go out there and go get surgeries before they take them. Go! And I want a full report by the end of the day.”

“Fine.” The doctors sighed and shuffled out of room, leaving only Cristina behind to sulk with Meredith.

***

“Okay, where do you want us?” Jo asked as she, Alex, and Lexie walked into the ER.

“Uh, at this point, anywhere is good,” Hunt looked around the crowded emergency room.

“At Mercy West we do zones. When it’s super busy, we just give everyone a zone, a space. The nurses put a person in that space, you know it’s your patient. Helps you get to them quicker,” the male in orange scrubs suggested, putting his stethoscope around his neck as the two women behind him nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, well, this is the ER not a school yard. We’re not playing four square,” Alex rolled his eyes.

“I like it,” Hunt announced. “It’s a good idea. Let’s try it. What’s your name?”

“Jackson Avery.”

Owen shook Jackson’s hand, “Dr. Avery, I’m Dr. Hunt. It’s all yours. Zone away.”

Lexie, Jo, and Alex all exchanged a look. Jo let out a groan, “Ugh. That’s the one. That’s the resident that’s supposed to shadow me.”

“That guy?” Alex pointed and made a face. “I can already tell he’s a jerk.”

“Takes one to know one, I guess,” Lexie mumbled, causing Jo to snicker. “I know we’re supposed to hate them, but is it wrong of me to say that he’s kind of hot? Like really hot?”

“Um, yes,” Jo looked at her friend strangely. “Besides, aren’t you with Sloan?”

“Hey! I can look,” Lexie waved her hands slightly. “I just won’t touch.”

“Let’s go,” Alex motioned for the girls to follow him.

***

“You were right. I hate him,” Jo slammed her tray down on the table as they reconvened for lunch in the cafeteria. “But not because he’s a jerk. Because he’s really freaking nice!”

“This blows,” Alex placed his tray next to hers and sat down.

“Getting your ass kicked?” Cristina asked.

“Shut up,” Alex responded, his mouth full of food. He looked over to Jo. “I heard yours got a standing ovation in the ER.”

“Yours is the one who saved the whole ER from the maniac with the hammer?” Lexie looked up from the little book she was reading.

“Okay, he didn’t save anyone,” Jo shook her head in annoyance. “He did some stupid ninja leap and then tripped a guy. I used actual medicine to stop a person from dying.”

“At least he’s pretty to look at,” Cristina shrugged. “I’m too depressed to practice medicine today.”

“Well, mine has a notebook, a notebook that she takes notes in. Notes of a very personal nature, and I stole it,” Lexie held up the tiny pink book for them to see.

“You what?” Cristina’s eyes widened.

“Give it,” Alex stuck his hand out.

“No. No, I—I’m not sinking down to their level,” Lexie put the book in her lab coat pocket. “They are vindictive and they are aggressive and—and they are not team players. And if we are not careful, that spirit is going to infect our hospital. We have to fight it.”

Cristina nodded, “Which is why you stole the notebook?”

“And read it?” Alex added.

“And now you’re hiding it from us?” Jo looked at her friend, amused.

“Well, she’s not a very nice person.”

“Hey,” Izzie walked up to the table, two coffees in hand.

“Ooh! Can I have that?” Alex reached out to grab the coffee.

“No. This isn’t for you,” Izzie slapped his hand away.

“Who’s it for then?” Jo asked.

“Charles.”

“Your Mercy-Wester?” Cristina exclaimed.

“They’re handing us out asses on a plate, and you’re serving him coffee?” Alex made a face.

“Charles is actually kind of awesome,” Izzie shrugged. “If you all could get past your sad, little egos, you would realize you can’t write off all the Mercy West residents just because you feel threatened.”

“We don’t feel threatened,” Jo called out as Izzie turned and walked away. She looked back at the table. “Okay, maybe a little threatened.”

***

At the end of the day, Jo was exhausted. She’d spent the entirety of her first official day as a resident getting her ass handed to her by pretty-boy Avery. All she wanted was to change out of her scrubs and get back to the house and maybe finally get laid.

She had pulled her scrub top off when she heard some noise behind her. Glancing back, she saw Avery and a few of the other Mercy-Westers walk in to leave for the night. Ignoring them, Jo continued to change out of her scrubs and into her street clothes.

“Hey, Wilson.”

Jo turned at the sound of her name, her shirt only halfway on and huffed, “What?”

Avery gave her a quick once over and cracked a charming smile, “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot today. I think it’s safe to say that I overstepped and should’ve backed off a bit. What do you say we start over?”

“Ya think?” Jo finished smoothing down her shirt and crossed her arms. “Okay. I guess we can start over.”

“Great,” he extended his hand out to her. “Hi, Dr. Wilson, my name is Jackson.”

Despite herself, Jo cracked a small smile and shook his hand in return, “Hi, Jackson. Call me Jo.”

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