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#but some events mirror each other so you can get new details and perspectives to stuff you thought you knew

anotherjou4500blog · 2 months

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Reflection 1: Building Trust

The Pulitzer Center video, Building Trust, is a valuable resource for young journalists, and I believe that every journalism student at Elon should see it. Many themes, such as transparency and journalistic ethics, are mirrored in courses like Reporting for the Public Good. The testimony of Pulitzer grantees enhanced what I had learned in previous classes by using grounded, real-world examples from the past few years. Several speakers echoed the importance of complete transparency when looking for a story. For example, two grantees brought a copy of the print publication they work for to show potential sources what kind of content they typically run and how the story might look once published. I had never thought of this before, but I think it’s a great idea, especially when reporting in areas where your publication might not be readily accessible. A simple thing like this can be the first step in building a relationship between source and journalist.

Throughout my college career, I’ve heard countless professors talk about the importance of building a relationship with sources and gaining the trust of the media, but I never truly understood why this is so important until I saw this video. As a journalism student constantly surrounded by fellow reporters, I had never considered that most sources have never encountered the media before. For many, their only interview experience comes at the hands of authority figures such as employers or law enforcement, which is fundamentally different from a journalistic interview, where the subject has all the power. I now know that it is this skewed understanding of interviews that puts people on their guard when someone from the media comes to “ask questions” and why building trust and rapport with sources is so important.

There are so many tips and tricks for gaining the trust of a source, but they all boil down to having empathy toward your subject. Each grantee echoed the importance of seeing things from the subject’s perspective and understanding what they might have gone through. For example, if the subject has already spoken to the police, it is important to remind them they are in control of this interview and can refuse to answer any questions or stop at any time. This puts the power back in the hands of the subject and boosts their confidence, improving the relationship between interviewer and interviewee, and allowing more heavy, detail-laden questions to be asked. Sometimes a ‘no’ or resistance towards a question can be a sign of a strong relationship and respect between the source and the journalist.

Another takeaway I had from this video was about the importance of building a community of fellow journalists and how a close network of journalists can have other benefits beyond finding jobs, unlike in other fields. Being on the frontline of tragedy and horror can take a toll on mental health, and a strong group of friends who understand what you’ve seen and are willing to talk can, alongside mental health professionals, help heal the damage. Fellow journalists can also help you get better stories by informing you about safety in culture when you report in a new area or even sharing some contacts.

The most important thing to remember from this seminar is that stories aren’t merely jobs or assignments, they are people. Whenever I find a new source, I will always think about how if would feel if a stranger asked me personal questions, possibly about the worst period of my life or after a traumatic event, and how I would want them to proceed. From this starting point, I think I’ll be able to build good relationships with sources, even if I still have a lot to learn.

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cardentist · 3 years

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I haven’t been in the star trek fandom for very long (I’ve only just started binging the series in the last couple months), so it’s been pretty surprising to find out just how negative the perception of the reboot movies are.

this isn’t coming from the perspective of someone who grew up with the series, so it hit different for me than it might for people with a different relationship to TOS, but I thought it was genuinely clever and Respectful with how it was handled.

To quote leonard nimoy: “Well the alternative timeline gives them license to escape from canon concerns. I can’t see people saying ‘they shouldn’t do that because…’ or ‘that doesn’t tie in to such and such’ because it is a different time and place. Am I right about that?” [Link]

the entire Premise is that the original series happened as it was presented in TOS, but an event late in Spock’s life caused the creation of a parallel universe in which everyone’s lives were significantly altered through two key changes to the timeline. this gives them the freedom to Both revel in fanservice And explore different facets of the characters and their relationships.

the destruction of vulcan Vastly impacts the characters and the plot moving forward, and its a detail that a lot of people take issue with. but the emotional impact of sarek admitting Directly to spock that there is value in his humanity, that his feelings Aren’t wrong, that sarek married amanda because he Loved her cannot be understated. you can read all of these things into sarek as he was in the original series, but he Never had an open conversation about these things with spock. this creates a Believable and Rewarding change in their relationship, where we get to see a different facet of them Because of the changes made. and that’s exactly the appeal. showing us pieces of these characters that we never got in TOS that are nevertheless undeniably Them.

everyone is Different yes, but they’re also fundamentally the same people at their core and that matters.

kirk’s personality obviously takes the biggest change, with him experiencing trauma at a young age, losing his father, and having an implied abusive father figure after that point. he has a harsher personality in reaction to harsher conditions, he’s spikier and harder to love. but he’s also still fundamentally a Good person whose willing to risk everything to help people. he still has what made kirk prime a good captain and a good friend.

I’m not gonna say that it’s the most nuanced story in the world, but it explores a version of kirk that was born from even Less fortunate circumstances than kirk prime, exploring a kirk brimming with potential who learned to bite back after he was kicked down. exploring those themes of trauma and loss, of insecurity and growth, and coming to the conclusion that Fundamentally He Is Capable Of Good isn’t a Bad thing. you don’t have to like it, but his growth into a better person is The Point. they deepened his flaws (all of which were present in a less exaggerated form in TOS) To Show That Growth.

and then of course there’s his relationship with spock.

people are totally justified in not liking that they had a rough start to their relationship, I usually don’t like to see that kind of thing in reboots or hollywood adaptations either, but the way people talk about it is just unfair.

Yes kirk and spock and bones have a very strong relationship in TOS, they also already know each other by the time the show starts. to look at them having to learn to get to know and trust each other when they first meet and say that it’s Bad because they were already full on ride or die for each other in the og series is silly. TOS kirk and spock had to meet and fall in love with each other too, it didn’t just happen over night kings.

secondly, the entire point of the first movie is that Even With reality itself being altered to pull them apart they are fundamentally compatible people that are Bound to each other. they meet each other on bad terms because of circumstances outside of their control, and yet they’re still pulled into each other’s orbit and find the other slotting into place next to them as if they always belonged. one of the first things that spock prime says in the movie is “I am and always will be your friend,” spock and jim are Meant for each other and the movie goes out of its way to explain that. which is what makes it so Weird to see people complaining about how they don’t like each other.

it’s a Different relationship, but it’s absolutely no less steeped in yearning or queer subtext.

speaking of queer subtext ! some people are Very unhappy with spock’s relationship with uhura.

first thing I wanna say is that making the argument that they’re doing anything that the original series hasn’t done is just, completely untrue. kirk has fallen in love with more girls in the og series than he knew what to do with, leonard nimoy was a heartthrob in his time (and he deserves it, awooga) and spock reflects that ! Spock usually turns the women who come onto him down (or when he doesn’t it’s because a plant has literally altered his mind), but there are exceptions to even that. all of three of the main boys have plenty of romance subplots, it happens. if that takes the possibility of them being queer off the table for you (which it shouldn’t, m-spec people exist) then I’m sorry to say that TOS is not exempt.

now, I can understand why Specifically This Relationship could rub people the wrong way or being disappointed that they didn’t outright depict kirk and spock as having a relationship (if not in the first movie then in the following ones after they’ve gotten to know each other), but even in that context the way I’ve seen people talk about it comes off as insensitive.

no, the relationship did not come out of nowhere. they considered having spock and uhura date each other in the original show (and you can see signs of this in the earlier episodes, where uhura very obviously flirts with him and they spend time together in their down time) before they decided against it, and spock was originally going to kiss uhura until shatner insisted that he wanted to do it (because it was the first interracial kiss on tv). [Link 1, Link 2, Link 3]

nichelle nichols was asked about this exact thing (spock and uhura’s relationship in the movie), you can read the interview in full here [Link] but I’d like to highlight this paragraph in particular:

“Now, go back to my participation in Star Trek as Uhura and Leonard (Nimoy) as Spock. There was always a connection between Uhura and Spock. It was the early 60’s, so you couldn’t do what you can do now, but if you will remember, Uhura related to Spock. When she saw the captain lost in space out there in her mirror, it was Spock who consoled her when she went screaming out of her room. When Spock needed an expert to help save the ship, you remember that Uhura put something together and related back to him the famous words, “I don’t know if I can do this. I’m afraid.” And Uhura was the only one who could do a spoof on Spock. Remember the song (in “Charlie X”)? Those were the hints, as far as I’m concerned.”

the film makers looked at the fact there were Hints for uhura and spock, that they were Interested in exploring an interracial couple for the first time (both before and immediately after interracial couples won the right to legally get married) but Couldn’t because of the circumstances of the times and decided to Make that depiction. you don’t have to Like their relationship just because of that fact, but it’s Incredibly reductive to play down it’s significance as just a No Homo cop out. explicitly queer relationships are not the only progressive or culturally important relationships in fiction.

moreover, if you can’t imagine polyamory in the communist utopian future that’s on you.

moreover, this perception that this was a soulless cash grab is just, unfounded.

leonard nimoy returned to the role as spock for the first time in 16 years (since 1991) and this was Entirely because of the respect they had for nimoy, spock as a character, and the franchise as a whole.

Lets look at some quotes from nimoy in interviews regarding the film:

Leonard Nimoy: When I first read the script (...) I immediately contacted J.J. and said “I think it is terrific…I think you guys have done a wonderful job. There is still work to be done, but it is very clear that you and your writers know what you are doing and you know how to do this movie and know what it should be about….and I am very interested.” Then as time went by we worked things out with Paramount, but the most important things were J.J. and the script. (...) I am very pleased about that and I am very comfortable with where this is going. I think the writers have done a terrific job. They have a real sense of the characters and the heart of Star Trek and what it is really all about.

(...)

TrekMovie.com: Now in the case of the new movie you have been retired from acting for years. What was it about this one that made you want to act again and go through the make up again? What was it that made you say ‘I really want to do this?’

Leonard Nimoy: You are right, this is a special situation. First it is Star Trek and so I have to pay attention. I owe that to Star Trek. Second place is that it is J.J. Abrams who I think very highly of, he is a very talented guy. Then came the script and it was very clear that I could make a contribution here. The Spock character that I am playing, the original Spock character, is essential and important to the script. So on the basis of those three elements it was easy to make the decision. So those three things: Star Trek, J.J. Abrams, and an interesting Spock role.

[Link]

Praising the cast playing younger versions of characters from the original 1960s TV series, he [Leonard Nimoy] said: “Let me take the opportunity to say this. Everybody at this table [the cast] are very, very talented and intelligent people.”

“They found their own way to bring that talent and intelligence to this movie, and I think it shows. (...) When Karl Urban introduced himself as Leonard McCoy and shook hands with Chris Pine, I burst into tears. That performance of his is so moving, so touching and so powerful as Doctor McCoy, that I think D. Kelley would be smiling, and maybe in tears as well.”

“The makers of this film reawakened the passion in me that I had when we made the original film and series. I was put back in touch with what I cared about and liked about Star Trek, and why I enjoyed being involved with Star Trek. So, it was an easy way to come on home.”

“[In this Star Trek] they said things and showed me things, and demonstrated the sensibility that I felt very comfortable with, and I think that shows in the movie. I like it.”

[Link 1, Link 2]

again, you don’t have to like it just because leonard nimoy did, you don’t have to Agree. but the idea that nobody working on the film Cared is provably false. near everyone working on the project was already a fan of the series or were excited to be involved and did their homework. it’s genuinely a Miracle just how much of a labor of love this was, and in my opinion you can feel that through the movie itself. I’d highly recommend looking into interviews and behind the scenes details about the movies. they had a respect not just for the source material, but for leonard nimoy as a person.

there’s definitely more I Could say about this, but it’s 4 am now so I’m gonna shelve it jklfdsa

that said! it’s Fine to not like the movie, not everything is going to be suited to everyone’s taste, but the specific criticisms I’ve seen feel very off base

#star trek #kirk #spock #uhura #nichelle nichols #leonard nimoy #star trek aos #aos #star trek tos #tos #meta #long post #hello followers I write essays about star trek now

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thefirstknife · 3 years

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Help, I ran Garden of Salvation with some clan mates and i'm Experiencing Great Sadness about the Kentarch 3 again.

I haven't been following you since shadowkeep, and was wondering if you had some theories about what happened, because a lot is left unexplained, specifically about Lisbon-13's motivations. The story from Yardarm-4's perspective shows that something is influencing them before they accept power (stasis teaser?) from the darkness. Do you think they really had a choice? Do you think he was influenced in his decision to kill them? If so, why? As a test just for him? Presumably he's still out there somewhere, and I can't tell from the lorebooks whether Rekkana let him kill her first or not. I just feel so bad for them, they all loved each other. Yardarm probably took the power in the first place to help get them out safely. Do you think it'll ever get concluded? The whole lore series seems interestingly close to what happens with Shayura, just sort of in reverse.

Kentarch 3 fireteam and the whole story on the Garden of Salvation armour and the associated weapons and equipment is amazing and very interesting, I agree. I haven't talked about it before but it's a good thing to revisit every so often! I think there's still a lot we don't really understand, mostly due to not fully understanding the power of the Black Garden.

In short for the general audience, Kentarch 3 was a fireteam that consisted of Yardarm-4 (Titan), Rekkana (Warlock) and Lisbon-13 (Hunter). They went to explore the Black Garden at the behest of the Warlock order called the Cryptochrons which Rekkana was a part of. This order got exiled some time after Osiris for dabbling in prophecies. Cryptochrons were formed around a Oneiromantic Circle and led by a Sibyl (or multiple sibyls; or Sibyl was just a name of one member, it's unclear). Oneiromancy is the practice of interpreting dreams to predict the future and sibyls were ancient Greek female prophets and oracles.

I didn't think this would get long but it did so the rest under the cut:

The Cryptochron order continued operating after its exile and Rekkana received a prophecy from them that revolved around a fireteam learning about the Black Garden and retrieving from it a Vex relic of some sort. The relic is the exotic weapon Divinity and the lore tab on it details the prophecy they were chasing:

"And after any other Cryptochrons they learn of. But your path is more dangerous than most. The Circle has foreseen many fireteams following in your footsteps. You can find the knowledge the order seeks at the Tree."

"Can? Not will?" For the first time, Rekkana sounded concerned.

"The Circle has had limited success in piercing the veil that surrounds the Black Garden, so the order offers no certainties. They say that a group of Guardians will discover secrets about the origin of the Black Garden at the Tree. The Oneiromantic Circle foresees no reason why it will not be the Kentarch 3."

"Nor can I. But…?"

"There is another thread in the tapestry, entwined with this one. The Vex, or some fractal faction of them, worship or honor a… divinity there."

"The Black Heart? It was destroyed."

"Yes, but this is something different. An object. Something like a sacred relic. It is important to the Vex for reasons that we have not yet fathomed. The Circle has determined that it is dangerous—"

"A Vex weapon?"

"Perhaps," the Sybil sounded annoyed at the interruption. "Rekkana, the Circle concluded that it is a danger to you."

"To me? But then, why send me on this mission?"

"When the Circle dreamed of the object, you were beside it."

They agreed that, should they find this object, Lisbon should be the one to carry it. They did find it and he was indeed the one to carry it, as is shown later in another lore tab detailed below.

We know that Lisbon-13 killed the rest of his fireteam because they got corrupted by the Black Garden, something happened to their Ghosts (they all just dropped down and started losing their Light) and then turned on him. He was being hunted and he really had no choice. But he couldn't live with it. In Beyond Light, he's shown trying to kill his Ghost in order to stay permanently dead because he couldn't bear the burden of what he did to his fireteam, even though his actions were justified and he acted in self-defence.

But before he managed to do that, he was faced with his own doppleganger, just like the YW at the end of Shadowkeep. In the end, Lisbon didn't kill his Ghost because the doppleganger offered him power and Lisbon (presumably) chose to take it: his wish was simply to make himself forget about his fireteam (and Rekkana specifically, whom he loved). It's implied that he accepted and after that, we have no formal information what happened.

The outcome of what happened to Kentarch 3 is somewhat known, as detailed in this ship lore. The Vanguard knows Lisbon killed the other two, they're not sure when they lost their Ghosts and they have not found anyone's body, not even Lisbon's. But we know from the lore that came out after that Lisbon accepted the deal with his doppleganger and we have no idea what that entailed. Is he still in the Black Garden? Was he killed? Replaced? Just memory-wiped and sent back? Something else entirely? We'll explore at the end.

I'm pretty sure the voices they heard talking to them were also their own dopplegangers. And it's somewhat implied that they made some sort of a bargain and accepted "new powers" that came "from the wrong side." There's only one description of it:

Her fist glimmered and quaked with an unfamiliar power. She only had to release her grip, and that energy would rip through him, burning without fire.

That's Rekkana attacking Lisbon. It's never fully explained what it is, but it could very well be some sort of prototype Stasis in my opinion. Or some other Darkness power. Not sure why the Black Garden would give them this, which is why I think they simply harnessed the power of their dopplegangers. This is something that's been mentioned a few times in regards to Darkness: duplication. Same is present with the Taken as well (Taken psions duplicate). I mentioned the duplication theme being discussed in Clovis' journal before too.

Honestly, I can't make any definitive conclusion, but Kentarch 3 definitely found something horrifying in the Black Garden and fell to its influence. They also reference doing the puzzles to get Divinity, which they got and Lisbon used it to kill the other two.

Garden of Salvation raid ends with a Pyramid scale opening up and leading us down into the area with the Darkness statue. I think this could've easily been some sort of a lead into the future of Destiny and the powers of Darkness. Kentarch 3 may have accidentally received this power early on or were perhaps some sort of a test the Darkness did on Guardians before offering them Stasis for real.

It's an interesting story and yep, it does mirror Shayura's fireteam and how the story is told! Each member of the fireteam tells the same story from their own POV on armour for that class. I'll link all of them in order, roughly how I think it's best to read each POV:

Rekkana: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Yardarm-4: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 Lisbon-13: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

I like how the armour follows the same name pattern: Righteousness, Exaltation, Transcendence, Ascendancy and Temptation.

Associated Garden of Salvation weapons also have some tidbits of lore that might help, namely:

Ancient Gospel Hand Cannon:

"These forces have existed forever, but only one of them speaks to us." —Rekkana, Warlock of the Kentarch 3

Sacred Provenance Pulse Rifle:

"These gifts were not made for us, but we were meant to have them." —Rekkana, Warlock of the Kentarch 3

Zealot's Reward Fusion Rifle:

"Why not use these gifts we've been given?" —Yardarm-4, Titan of the Kentarch 3

I would really like to learn more about them, and specifically Lisbon because he might be able to actually tell us what happened. He or his Ghost, Piri, who managed to survive last we've seen her. I think the Ghost might be able to give the most accurate version of events. It's interesting that Lisbon was very much against whatever power they received and that was the reason he abandoned his fireteam, which made the other two consider him a traitor to their friendship.

Very intriguing lore story that could possibly be mentioned again in some form. Also as a brighter note, yes, Yardarm literally flew into the Black Garden with an entire ship and crash landed inside. On a less brighter note, we've never seen the remains of a ship in there (to be fair, Black Garden is huge) and it's somewhat implied that they entered through the Vex Gate on Mars which puts the timeline of when they got there into question. The Vex Gate on Mars that led into the Black Garden was destroyed in the Red War. The new gate showed up on the Moon in Shadowkeep (and you can't fly a ship into it because it's in a cave).

An additional note which answers certain things when it comes to Lisbon's fate that I hinted at before: in order to acquire the quest for Divinity, you have to go to the Moon to the Vex Gate for the first time. The gate will open up and a Vex mind will come out. This giant Vex minotaur is called Zeteon, Redemptive Mind. Upon killing this minotaur, you receive "Divine Fragmentation" quest. Details of the quest here. You pick up a Vex core that has strange readings coming from it and you have to decipher it by running it through various Vex technology. Once fully completed, you have to go into Garden of Salvation, do the Divinity puzzles and the weapon will drop from the extra chest at the end.

Why am I mentioning this? Well. Zeteon, Redemptive Mind drops a core that contains information about how to get Divinity. Lisbon was the member of the fireteam that held Divinity and used it to kill his fireteam. There's a quote from Lisbon on the weapon called Accrued Redemption:

"I should never have let it come to this. Now each arrow is a penance." —Lisbon-13, Hunter of the Kentarch 3

Divinity's perks are called Judgement and Penance.

Basically, I believe that whatever deal Lisbon accepted that made him forget his fireteam, free him from the suffering and redeem him ended with him being converted into Zeteon, Redemptive Mind. It's the reason why this Vex in particular had the pieces needed to construct Divinity again. Lisbon was the last person who had it. Becoming the bearer of parts needed for Divinity was both his Judgement and his Penance.

Final note because I love ancient languages being used for the names of things in Destiny: "Zeteon" most likely comes from Greek "zeteo" which means:

to seek, search after, look for

to inquire into, examine, consider

to strive for, desire, wish

Probably tied to Lisbon's search and desire for redemption for what he's done. I think that wraps up his fate quite nicely, although tragically.

#destiny 2 #kentarch 3 #lisbon-13 #rekkana #yardarm-4 #garden of salvation raid #black garden #darkness #vex #ask #long post #anon if you've been wondering what's taking so long for your question to be answered or if i've received the question #this essay is the reason shfksjfhskjfhks

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #viren #harrow #rayla #runaan #callum #claudia #soren #lujanne #moonshadow elves #aaravos

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 years

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Did you name your novels or were they just ShoH 1, ShoH 2, ShoH 3, etc.? (If yes, can you also tell their names please?)

Hi there, thanks for the question! In my head they were Volumes 1-20-something--actually, if you’ll believe it, in my head for a long time I named the books after colors, and somehow kept track... but at some point I did put a formal list of potential titles together. I never used the “real” titles mentally, except for The Bridge of Bones, Fortress of the Dead, and the books in Series II and III: I still remember thinking of the first book in Series I as “red” and the second book as “orange”... 😬 And the files/scenes in each book were labelled “aaa”, “bb”, “++”. The more letters there were, the number of times the scene had been rewritten (so “a” was a first draft of the first scene in the book, and “aaa” was the same scene, but more polished... what was I thinking?)

Anyway, I had to go digging to remember my ideas for the titles of some of the earlier books, so please forgive any cringyness lol, I was pretty young when I wrote Series I! I also don’t know if these are all of the ShoH novels--these are just the main chronological ones, but there were some spin-offs and AUs that I don’t name here!

Series I: World Without End

The Witching Wheel

Blood and Fire

Gunpowder Magic

Battle Mage

The Knife That Spoke

Oathbreaker

Shadowsight

The Code of War

The City of Midnight

The Foundling’s Soul

The Silver Covenant

The Gates of the Earth

Child of the Stars

Series II: The Storm of the Worlds

The Thunder March

The Lightning War

The Conquered Sky

Series III: The Land of the Gods

The Eternal Sea

The Country Cloaked in Moon

Bridge Series:

Fortress of the Dead

The Bridge of Bones

The Razor Crown

The God-King’s Sun

Series IV: The Naming of All Things

Harlequin

Valkyrie

Jeremiad

The Council of Kingmakers

Canticle of the Namer

The Blessed Isles

Read below if you want as concise of an explanation for these titles as I can provide!

In case you’re curious, Series I up until Battle Mage follows the protagonist, Arainia, as a young girl (I think 11 or 13) after the death of her mother, being sent to Solhadur amidst family conflict with her father and older sister, her various adventures there at school (meeting Red, Pan, Neon, etc.), graduating, attempting to join the Ket army (it’s complicated), and then deciding to join the Shepherds at around 18 or 19. She undergoes training in the academy, joins her squad (this is where Trouble, Riel, Chase, Halek, and the rest come in), and becomes a Shepherd officer alongside her childhood best friend Blade in Battle Mage. The Knife that Spoke and onward details various missions, investigations, battles, recruitments, and adventures that they all embark on as young adults into their twenties, with some books following different perspectives in the squad (Blade, Riel, Trouble, Chase, Halek, Red, Wintry, and Junoth [the last two not in the game] all get their turn narrating a book or at least a large part of one), with Shery, Ayla, Mimir, Lavinet, Tallys, Neon, Croelle, and many other characters featuring heavily. Around this time, civil war is brewing between the Elves, Ket, and certain factions of Mages, and Endarkened attacks soon begin to rise as the Order struggles to keep the peace.

Series II details the outbreak of total world war that is essentially the Castigation in the game, with Western Norm kingdoms and territories suddenly and unexpectedly marching on the East--except in the novels, demons and demon armies are also involved, and the war is ultimately averted/ended in a truce as both sides finally unite to confront the Endarkened. It’s during this time period that Riel defects and seemingly betrays the group in favor of “the other side.” Blade is also seemingly killed at the end of the first book of this series and doesn’t reappear again until the third book, Arainia is captured and held as a prisoner of war all while thinking her best friend is dead, and it’s an upsetting time for everybody. Junoth also actually dies. RIP. Croelle pops in to save the day!

Series III details the aftermath of the war and a mission to find unoccupied land for displaced factions of soldiers, diplomats, traders, and civilians from the Norm territories (led by Riel), leading to a voyage across the Mirror Sea to explore the vast continent to the south of Blest, called colloquially “the Land of the Gods.” The second book in this series is also when Blade and Arainia FINALLY confess their feelings for each other and get together, and the big love triangle in the series is finally mostly settled. Oh, but things also aren’t perfect because the Order forbids relationships between officers (like they’ll actually be fired, not Blade’s lame rule in the game lmao), so they live in fear of being discovered because neither wants to quit being a Shepherd! Their hope is that Blade will be named Commander when the current one resigns, and then he can just... change the rule LOL.

The Bridge Series has some companion novels that take place in between Series III and IV; Fortress of the Dead is Croelle-centric (this is when he informally joins the Order in the books) and The Bridge of Bones details some political bullshit and coups and conspiracies within the Order when its Commander dies unexpectedly and seemingly names a shady outsider (Edric) as the new Commander instead of Blade. The group is placed on different squads to split them up and prevent rebellion from brewing (it happens anyway), and it’s all very crazy. This is also when Lavinet sort of becomes a good guy, Shery becomes a badass, Shyf Cian first appears as the HR rep everyone hates, and this book is also pretty Chase-centric (he pretty much saves the day) and features a Mage serial killer, a psychopathic criminal syndicate leader, and an evil Changeling! I think it’s my favorite novel of the series. From what I remember, The Razor Crown and The God-King’s Sun are just super angsty for no good reason other than I guess I felt like writing a lot of angst--though the God-King’s Sun is also the first appearance of a true Autarch in the series.

By the time we get to Series IV, the characters are in their thirties, settling into adulthood and their respective roles in life. Blade finally assumes command of the Order, Blade and Arainia get married, Halek and Wintry have a baby (Kana!), Halek turns 33 and has a life crisis, Arainia gets pregnant (and then kidnapped for a large part of her pregnancy lolll), Riel and Chase finally make reluctant peace, some other stuff happens, uh there’s some Mimir stuff in there, Red successfully makes a trip to another world, and Arainia gives birth to a Ket-Mage son in... I think it was either The Canticle of the Namer or The Blessed Isles.

So... yeah! 28+ main novels, and I’m still going, just for me! 😂 I tend to write a lot of AUs of the series in my off-time, though sometimes the AUs are just “what if this took place in the same world but things are totally different--like what if they were politicians instead of Shepherds, what if the Shepherds functioned differently due to a different historical event occurring, what if the Castigation happened but it was Mages who instigated it, what if they were soldiers in a war 5000 years before the main series takes place, etc.”; or they take place in totally different worlds, like the characters as cops in a modern world that has cell phones and cars but also still has the Diminished races and magic somehow!

Thanks for your question, and for reading this long talk! 😅

#...#damn #that's a lot when you list it out lol i just usually hazily think of it as a handful of books but it's like 30 D:#some of these are novellas though!#most of the bridge series except for the bridge of bones are #Shepherds of Haven #ironically 'shepherds of haven' was never used as a title #novel #novels #original novel #original novels #titles #long #long post #anon

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

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When Stars Ignite - Chapter 12

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Surprise, a new chapter already! This one and the Chapter 11 were actually supposed to be one single chapter but we decided to cut it due to my inability to keep things short length. Hence, the same title with an addition and the consecutive days - just so you don't wonder. Also, in case anyone was confused by the timeframe reading Chapter 11, this supposed to be a flashback to when the whole thing between them started - sorry for not making this clear in the first place 💛

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Langague, mention of alcohol and drug abuse, mention of NSFW content

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

It's just the way that you walk

It's just the way that you talk

Like it ain't no thing

And every single day is just a fling

Then the morning comes

~ Smash Mouth - Then The Morning Comes ~

Lizzie woke the next morning to a painful pounding inside her head and a mouth as dry as dust. It took her a few moments to find her bearings; the light of the morning sun didn’t fall onto her bed like it did now, and neither did her sheets smell like Orion’s aftershave.

With that thought the memories of last night hit her like a freight train. Covering her eyes with her hand, she let her head slump back onto the pillow, a breathy chuckle leaving her parched throat. She certainly hadn’t expected that to happen when she had agreed to go to her first poetry slam with Orion. Saying she regretted sleeping with him would have been a blatant lie, though; it had been far too good for that.

Sitting up slowly, Lizzie stretched her back, rolling her neck from side to side; her head hurt like hell but it wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated. Orion seemed to be up already, which didn’t surprise her; Lizzie knew he was an early riser from the many years they had spent touring together.

Her eyes fell onto the nightstand and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. A full bottle of water and a blister pack of painkillers were waiting for her there. Not sure what she was more grateful for, the meds or the water, Lizzie took a large gulp out of the bottle first before washing down one of the pills with a second, smaller sip; her mouth was so dry, she wasn’t even sure any of the water was reaching her stomach at all.

She sat between the sheets for a little longer, her back leaned against the rough brick wall. Taking small sips out of her bottle every now and again she contemplated last night’s events.

In a thousand years she wouldn’t have anticipated ending up in bed with Orion when all they’d had planned had been a night out together. And it wasn’t like she could blame it all on getting drunk and high out of her mind either; Lizzie was honest enough with herself to admit she’d always found him more than a little attractive, but so far, it had stopped for her at that.

The dreamcatcher hanging from the window frame directly above the bed was painting intricate shadows on the sheets. Lost in her thoughts, Lizzie watched them, trying to discern if she felt any different after spending the night with one of her best friends.

If she was completely honest with herself, the answer was no. Neither she nor her feelings towards Orion seemed to have changed in any way.

She shrugged the thought off and swung her legs out of the bed, standing up slowly in case her circulation was still funky. She grabbed her shorts from the ground where she had unceremoniously tossed them last night. Exchanging the shirt Orion had given her with her own top, she pulled a new hair tie from her pocket and pulled her tangled hair out of her face.

With the warm shirt and her hair gone from her bare shoulders, Lizzie noticed how cool the morning air felt against her skin. She grabbed the black hoodie she had borrowed yesterday from another place on the floor and put it on again. Following the soft sound of Orion’s guitar that was drifting down from the rooftop terrace, she climbed up the steps and through the open skylight.

Orion was sitting on the deckchair with his acoustic guitar in his hands, playing a melody Lizzie didn’t recognise. One of his countless notebooks was lying in front of him and she could spot a pencil being stuck behind his ear. Lizzie waited until he stopped playing to write something down before she walked over to him.

He looked up from his notes as she sat down on the end of the deckchair. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Lizzie smiled. She tilted her head, trying to catch a glimpse of what Orion was composing. “What was that you were playing?”

“Something new,” he smirked. He closed the notebook and carefully put his guitar away. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” Lizzie chuckled, “No wonder though…” She indicated the water bottle she was still holding, “Thanks for that, I didn’t even realise how thirsty I was.”

“That’s what smoking does to you,” Orion shrugged. “I got us some fruit from the market down the road for breakfast, if you want some.”

Lizzie had already spotted the huge plate laden with an assortment of colourful fruit on the table behind him. It was only now that she realised just how hungry she was. “How do you know that’s what I like for breakfast?”

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “We’ve been touring together for five years now, remember?”

Lizzie felt her cheeks go red. “Obviously. I can’t think before coffee.”

“I made you some, but no idea if it’s good,” Orion shrugged. “You know I don’t drink coffee myself.”

Lizzie made her way over to the table and poured herself a cup. “Then why do you have coffee in the first place?”

“Merula likes some when she’s here.”

She took her first sip after adding sugar and milk but even then the bitter taste was so overwhelmingly strong that Lizzie couldn’t help but grimace.

Orion watched her with a sympathetic expression. “Too strong?”

“A little,” Lizzie croaked, trying to wash the taste away with another sip of water.

“Sorry, that’s how Merula likes it.”

“No wonder she never laughs if her days start like this,” Lizzie replied sardonically.

Orion had to chuckle at her words. “Our tastes can mirror our personalities, that’s true; I wouldn’t tell her that, though.”

He raised his own mug that had been resting on the floor beside him. “If you don’t like the coffee, I can only offer you tea, I’m afraid.”

Gingerly pushing her coffee cup as far away from her as possible, Lizzie nodded gratefully. “I’d be fine with that.”

Lizzie was surprised at how relaxed and comfortable the atmosphere between them was; it was like having breakfast with her best friend, just like it always had.

None of them spoke about what had happened last night, nor did they feel the need to. Now, in the light of a new day, the fact that they had slept with each other seemed almost surreal. Lizzie was relieved to see that, just like her, Orion didn’t seem to have any issues with it whatsoever.

She had just picked out another cherry from the fruit platter when her phone started ringing, the familiar picture of Skye flashing across the screen. She motioned for Orion to be silent before accepting the call.

“What’s up, Skye?” she greeted her breezily.

Skye didn’t seem to share her good mood, however. “Where the fuck are you?”

“What?”

“We were meant to go running today? I’ve been waiting for a solid twenty minutes now.”

Lizzie mouthed a silent curse; she had completely forgotten about that. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I slept in, it got a little later yesterday than I expected.” She tried not to grin as her eyes flicked over to Orion.

“Oh yeah, how was the slam?”

Lizzie almost choked on her tea as she tried not to snort with laughter. “You want to know how the slam was?” she repeated Skye’s words, watching Orion cover his mouth with his hand as he, too, was trying very hard not to laugh.

“It was very good, thank you for asking. I got some whole new perspectives out of it.”

“Maybe I should come next time.”

“Oh, believe me,” Lizzie grinned, “it wouldn’t have been your thing at all.”

“Hm, if you say so. How about Orion? Haven’t seen him quite so excited about something in a long time.”

“Well, I think he had quite a good night,” she smirked, throwing her cherry at Orion as he was shaking with silent laughter.

“Anyway,” Skye sighed through the speaker, “what’s the deal now? Could be at your place in ten minutes.”

Lizzie racked her brain, trying to come up with a suitable excuse. “Uhm no, I’m actually not home right now.” Her gaze fell onto her cup of green tea. “I ran straight out of coffee this morning and I’m on the hunt for some.”

Luckily, Skye seemed to buy it. “Fine, want to meet for lunch later?”

“Make it dinner and I’m in,” Lizzie answered, “Say hi to Erika for me,” she couldn’t help but add with a wicked grin.

She could practically see Skye blushing, even through her phone. “What makes you think I’m with -”

But Lizzie had already hung up on her.

The laughter was still dancing in Orion’s eyes when he shook his head. “You’re truly evil, do you know that?”

Lizzie chuckled. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“Fair enough,” Orion conceded. “But I’m curious, why did you lie to her?”

“First of all, I didn’t lie; I just didn’t tell her all the details. It’s none of her business anyway.” The smile vanished from her face and Lizzie averted her eyes. “And besides, I don’t want her to get into a conflict because she’s hiding something from her father.”

She took a deep breath, the mood suddenly not at all relaxed anymore. “And about that…”

But Orion had already guessed what she wanted to say. “You want to keep this a secret.” It wasn’t a question but an observation.

“If that’s cool with you.”

To her relief, Orion nodded. “It suits me well. I agree with you, it’s no one’s business but our own. And a secret shared between friends can only serve to deepen the friendship.”

Lizzie nodded in agreement, glad to see they were on the same page about this. She finished her tea, popped another cherry into her mouth and got up to leave.

“Is it okay if I borrow that for today?” she asked, motioning at the sweater she was still wearing. It wasn’t cold by any means, but the sweater was cosy and soft, just what she needed on a hungover day like this. It smelled like something resembling ginger, a scent she found very pleasant.

Orion followed her inside and showed her to the door. Just as she was about to leave, he caught her wrist and held her back.

“Any chance for another kiss?”

Lizzie hesitated, looking at him apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t usually do that.” Her lips twisted into a sly smile as she added, “And you got way more than a kiss anyway.”

She turned to go, but changed her mind on a whim; standing on her tiptoes, Lizzie pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek.

“Maybe next time.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #lizzie jameson #when stars ignite #wsi #besties collaborate

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multiverseforger · 3 years

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In November 2013, Marvel Comics announced that Kamala Khan, a teenage American Muslim from Jersey City, New Jersey, would take over the comic book series Ms. Marvel beginning in February 2014. The series, written by G. Willow Wilson and drawn by Adrian Alphona, marked the first time a Muslim character headlined a book at Marvel Comics.[2] However, Noelene Clark of the Los Angeles Times noted that Khan is not the first Muslim character in comic books, which include Simon Baz, Dust and M.[3] The conception of Kamala Khan came about during a conversation between Marvel editors Sana Amanat and Stephen Wacker. Amanat said, "I was telling him [Wacker] some crazy anecdote about my childhood, growing up as a Muslim American. He found it hilarious." The pair then told Wilson about the concept and Wilson became eager to jump aboard the project.[4] Amanat said that the series came from a "desire to explore the Muslim-American diaspora from an authentic perspective."[5]

Artist Jamie McKelvie based Khan's design on his redesign of Carol Danvers as Captain Marvel and on Dave Cockrum's design of the original Ms. Marvel.[6] Amanat requested that the design "reflected the Captain Marvel legacy, and also her story and her background."[7] Amanat stated that Khan's costume was influenced by the shalwar kameez. They wanted the costume to represent her cultural identity, but did not want her to wear a hijab,[8] because the majority of teenage Pakistani-American girls do not wear one.[9] Amanat also stated that they wanted the character to look "less like a sex siren" to appeal to a more vocal female readership.[8]

Marvel knew that they wanted a young Muslim girl, but stated that she could be from any place of origin and have any background. Wilson initially considered making her an Arab girl from Dearborn, Michigan but ultimately chose to create a Desi girl from Jersey City.[10] Jersey City, which sits across the Hudson River from Manhattan, has been referred to as New York City's "Sixth borough".[11][12][13] It therefore forms an important part of Khan's identity and the narrative journey of her character since most of Marvel Comics' stories are set in Manhattan. Wilson explains, "A huge aspect of Ms. Marvel is being a 'second string hero' in the 'second string city' and having to struggle out of the pathos and emotion that can give a person."[14]

The series not only explores Khan's conflicts with supervillains but also explores conflicts with Khan's home and religious duties. Wilson, a convert to Islam, said "This is not evangelism. It was really important for me to portray Kamala as someone who is struggling with her faith." Wilson continued, "Her brother is extremely conservative, her mom is paranoid that she's going to touch a boy and get pregnant, and her father wants her to concentrate on her studies and become a doctor."[4] Amanat added,

As much as Islam is a part of Kamala's identity, this book isn't preaching about religion or the Islamic faith in particular. It's about what happens when you struggle with the labels imposed on you, and how that forms your sense of self. It's a struggle we've all faced in one form or another, and isn't just particular to Kamala because she's Muslim. Her religion is just one aspect of the many ways she defines herself.[2]

First appearance of Kamala Khan from Captain Marvel #14 (August 2013) by Kelly Sue DeConnick and Scott Hepburn

In the series, Khan takes the name Ms. Marvel from Carol Danvers, who now goes by the alias Captain Marvel. Captain Marvel writer Kelly Sue DeConnick revealed that Khan actually made a brief appearance in Captain Marvel #14 (August 2013) saying, "Kamala is in the background of a scene in Captain Marvel 14 ... She is very deliberately placed in a position where she sees Carol protecting civilians from Yon-Rogg."[15] According to Wilson, Khan idolizes Carol so when Khan acquires superhuman abilities, she emulates Danvers.[14] "Captain Marvel represents an ideal that Kamala pines for. She's strong, beautiful and doesn't have any of the baggage of being Pakistani and 'different,'"[4] Wilson explained. "Khan is a big comic book fan and after she discovers her superhuman power – being a polymorph and able to lengthen her arms and legs and change her shape – she takes on the name of Ms. Marvel," Amanat elaborated.[16] Khan is one of several characters who discover that they have Inhuman heritage following the "Inhumanity" storyline, in which the Terrigen Mists are released throughout the world and activate dormant Inhuman cells.[17]

In the series' first story arc, Khan faces off against Mr. Edison / the Inventor, an amalgam of man and bird. Wilson created the Inventor to be Khan's first arch rival in order to mirror Khan's own complexity. Wilson characterizes the Inventor, and the overall visual look of the opening story arc as "kooky and almost Miyazaki-esque at times", owing to the art style of illustrator Adrian Alphona, which balances the drama of the threats which Khan faces with the humor of Alphona's "tongue in cheek sight gags." During the storyline, Khan also teams-up with the X-Man Wolverine against the Inventor. Because Wolverine is dealing with the loss of his healing factor during this time, Khan is placed in the position of having to shoulder much of the responsibilities, as Wilson felt this was a role reversal that would subvert reader expectations that Wolverine would take the lead in such a team-up.[18]

At the 2014 San Diego Comic-Con International, writer Dan Slott announced that Khan would team-up with Spider-Man beginning in The Amazing Spider-Man #7 (October 2014) during the "Spider-Verse" storyline. Slott characterized Khan "the closest character to classic Peter Parker,"[19] explaining, "She's a teenage superhero, juggling her life, making mistakes, trying to do everything right."[20]

Beginning in June 2015, Ms. Marvel tied into the "Secret Wars" crossover event with the "Last Days" storyline, which details Khan's account of the end of the Marvel Universe. Wilson explained, "In the 'Last Days' story arc, Kamala has to grapple with the end of everything she knows, and discover what it means to be a hero when your whole world is on the line."[21] In the storyline, Khan rushes to deal with the threat in Manhattan. However, Wilson revealed, "She will face a very personal enemy as the chaos in Manhattan spills over into Jersey City, and she will be forced to make some very difficult choices. There will also be a very special guest appearance by a superhero Kamala—and the fans—have been waiting to meet for a long time."[22]

In March 2015, Marvel announced that Khan will join the Avengers in All-New All-Different Avengers FCBD (May 2015) by writer Mark Waid and artists Adam Kubert and Mahmud Asrar, which takes place in the aftermath of "Secret Wars".[23] A second volume of Ms. Marvel starring Khan by Wilson, Alphona and Takeshi Miyazawa is also debuted following "Secret Wars" as part of Marvel's All-New, All-Different Marvel initiative.[24] Amanat said,

By the time this new launch comes around, it will have been almost two years since the premiere of Ms. Marvel—and boy, has Kamala Khan been through a lot since then. She's been slowly coming into her own, dealing with the challenges of navigating adulthood and being a super hero. But her training is over now and it's time for the big leagues; the question is can she handle it? ... As much as Kamala has a right to be there—it's still a bit of a culture shock. Dreaming of being an Avenger and then suddenly being one is a lot to take on for someone of her age. So, she'll be a little awestruck, a little overly ambitious.[25]

In March 2016, Marvel announced that Ms. Marvel would tie into the "Civil War II" storyline by releasing a promotional image illustrating a rift between Khan and Danvers.[26] "While "Civil War II" may have initiated this rift, we've known for some time that Kamala would eventually need to separate herself from her idols. Her journey centers around self-discovery and identity, and a part of that exploration includes separating yourself from those you put on pedestals. The rift between Carol and Kamala doesn't really have to do with right and wrong. It has to do with growing up and realizing that you perceive the world differently from even the ones you love," Amanat elaborated.[27]

In July, Marvel announced that Khan will join the Champions, a team of teenage superheroes who split off from the Avengers following the conclusion of "Civil War II". The team, featured in a series by writer Mark Waid and artist Humberto Ramos, consists of Khan, Spider-Man (Miles Morales), Nova (Sam Alexander), Hulk (Amadeus Cho), Viv Vision, and a teenage version of Cyclops. Waid said, "The first three are the kids who quit the Avengers proper. That was an easy get. Those three, in and of themselves, form a nice little subteam. Their dynamic is great. They all show up in each other's books, and even though they have their arguments and stress points, clearly they're good together."[28]

In August, Khan made an appearance in Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur #10 by writers Amy Reeder and Brandon Montclare. In the issue, Khan acts as a mentor to Moon Girl (Lunella Lafayette) who is also a young Inhuman that suddenly came into her powers. Amanat stated that Khan sees much of herself in Lafayette and by teaching her, Khan learns much about herself.[27]

In November, Marvel announced that Khan will join a new incarnation of the Secret Warriors in a series by writer Matthew Rosenberg and artist Javier Garron that debuted in May 2017. The team, formed in the wake of the "Inhumans vs X-Men" storyline, also includes Quake, Karnak, Moon Girl, and Devil Dinosaur. Rosenberg stated that there is some conflict and friction amongst the team members explaining, "Ms. Marvel and Quake are really fighting for the soul of the team in a lot of ways, while Moon Girl will continue to really do her own thing. They will all be tested and challenged, they are superheroes after all, but they are going to do things their way."[29]

In March 2017, Marvel announced that Khan would team-up with Danvers in a one-shot issue of the limited anthology series, Generations by Wilson and Paolo Villanelle. Wilson stated that the issue would explore Danvers' and Khan's mentor–student relationship, but "at its heart, [it] is about growing up, and a big part of growing up is discovering that your idols have feet of clay – and forgiving them for their flaws as you gain an adult understanding of your own."[30]

In December, Ms. Marvel began the "Teenage Wasteland" story arc, as part of the Marvel Legacy relaunch. Wilson said, "Since the events of 'Civil War II', there's been friction between Kamala and her mentor, Captain Marvel. In this arc, we're exploring how complicated legacies can be when they're passed from generation to generation ... She's questioning a lot about herself and her mission. Her friends end up stepping into some very important—and unexpected—roles. So in a sense, the arc is really about a bunch of chronically under-estimated teenagers who pull together to fight evil."[31]

Ms. Marvel #31, the 50th issue of Ms. Marvel featuring Khan was released in June 2018. To mark the occasion, Marvel brought in additional collaborators for the issue including writers: G. Willow Wilson, Saladin Ahmed, Rainbow Rowell, and Hasan Minhaj; and artists: Nico Leon, Bob Quinn, Gustavo Duarte, and Elmo Bondoc.[32]

Beginning in March 2019, Khan headlined a new series titled, The Magnificent Ms. Marvel, written by Ahmed and illustrated by Minkyu Jung. Wilson stated that she had been planning her departure from the series for over a year, stating that she originally anticipated that the series would only last for ten issues and was excited by the fact that she had written 60 issues. Ahmed said the new series will have much wider scope, "while still maintaining that intimate tone that people have loved about it."[33]

In July 2020, Marvel announced that Khan would star in an original graphic novel, published in conjunction with Scholastic and aimed at younger readers. The book will be written by author Nadia Shammas. An illustrator has not yet been named.[34

25 notes · View notes

arieswonjin · 3 years

Text

softbound; p.1

title: softbound; (modern royalty au)

pairings: bookshop owner!allen ma x princess!reader

genre: fluff, some angst

word count: 4.3k (p.1)

navigation: teaser; p.1; p.2; epilogue;

warnings: none

masterlist | request here! | how to request |

story playlist; (pls this is cute)

a/n: first part of my fic exchange with @cravicton

the one-seater sofa you were nestled in was threadbare and faded, but its old charm was what made it the perfect finishing piece to your little nook.

it sat between two wooden shelves, the excellent fit making it look like it's been specially made to be placed in that very corner of the downtown bookshop. the seat dipped down significantly after hours and hours spent carrying weight as people momentarily escaped from their mundane days and glided through one fictional world into another where they could live some other life apart from the one they had in this modern 21st-century town.

it was probably fate telling you to savor life’s simpler pleasures, having found the bookshop in one of your low-profile tours of the kingdom—one of your responsibilities as a ruler in training. you’ve been coming here ever since to no one but your assistant’s knowledge.

in the three years that passed, you couldn't remember if you have seen the seemingly insignificant yet inviting piece of furniture you were sitting on ever look new or if there was anybody in your town who has used it as much as you have.

what you did know was that every time you came to get lost in reading, a new trinket prepared by the bookshop's only owner, allen, would always be waiting on top of it. a book with a marked page, illustrations that reminded him of you, or simple items that made you smile were always accompanied by a mug of dark cocoa placed on top of a nearby shelf with a neat coaster. and don't forget the little note signed with a tiny, almost reluctantly-drawn, heart.

tonight, it was a newly-bought knitted blanket the color of lush forests in autumn. you wrapped it around yourself the moment you sat down and you noticed that it smelled like old books and oat-scented candles. "because it's almost your favorite season," the note said.

“how's my best customer enjoying their favorite spot tonight?” allen's face appeared peeking through a small space between the books to your right. he smiled, eyes and all, seeing you cradled in the knitted blanket with a book propped up with your knees, his warm mug in your hand.

allen was doing his nightly rounds, making sure new book arrivals were well stacked and sorted before he called it a day and went home. seeing you still immersed in reading a few minutes before the shop's closing time was not a new sight to him. in fact, it was how he finished many of his more enjoyable workdays.

"you know, if you treat every customer like this, they might end up falling for you." you took a sip of the dark cocoa and raised an eyebrow at him, ignoring the question. "with hot cocoa like this every time they're here? i'm surprised people aren't lining up outside."

allen didn't stop smiling and raised an eyebrow back to tease you, "so that means you're enjoying it?" he asked, making his way around the shelves and towards your sofa, plopping himself down on one of its arms.

the answer to his question was apparent with the relaxed way you were sitting, but you answered him anyway. "yes, allen. as always. thank you." you looked up at him, smiling sincerely and noticing how his warm stare didn’t falter.

"i like this one." he tapped the spine of the book you were holding, the white palace, by tom lee. allen always liked discussing books you’ve both read, going over details you yourself would have missed. he looked at you, taking the softbound item in his hand. “princess…”

you kept yourself from choking on your drink. for the past three years, a set of unusual circumstances led to allen still being clueless that you, his bookshop’s most avid patron, were indeed a crowned princess.

did he finally hear about who you were? you really wanted to be the one to tell him and you were planning to do it soon, but he must’ve found the timing impeccable, seeing you read a novel about royalty then and there.

you braced yourself for the questions, gathering up remnants of an unfinished explanation that you wanted to save for later.

“….princess mary, was that her name? the main character?” you inwardly sighed in relief and nodded. maybe not. but soon.“how are you liking it so far?”

"i think it's quite exaggerated, the way they described the king and queen's private life. you know, they have an ordinary side to them, too. more than you would think.” you replied.

"mmhmm." he nodded thoughtfully like he always does when you expressed your opinion, like he was doing his best to grasp your perspective. “fiction has that tendency. and what are the chances of the princess getting married to a commoner?”

you shrugged and patted the small space beside you on the one-seater. what are the chances of the princess getting married to a commoner? you turned the question over and over in your head.

"i already closed up the entrance, but we can stay for another hour again if you want? wouldn't be the first time," allen said, accepting your silent offer and laughing at how both of you fit snuggly on the sofa, his chest pressed against your shoulder and his arms draped behind you.

"how about just another five minutes? i actually have to go earlier today. work." you offered him a sip from the mug to which he obliged, putting his hands over yours as he sipped up the warm drink. "but this is just too comfortable to pass up." you finished.

after a few lovely minutes, you helped allen close the bookshop. both of you walked side by side, taking the small path to the main road. the space between you two was almost nonexistent as the cold fall evening made you seek for each other’s warmth, however slight.

you loved this, the comfortable silence he always gave you when you were about to part. he wasn’t too keen about asking you questions and was contented with listening only to what you wanted to share. he never asked, for instance, why you always refused to let him bring you home. instead, he told you almost a hundred times to be careful on the way.

"i'm glad you enjoyed your nook today.” he faced you and you smiled at his words, giving him an intuitive peck on the cheek to which he scrunched his nose in delight. i enjoyed it too much, you thought. sometimes, being there made you forget that you were in line to rule an entire kingdom. you wanted to say this but decided against it. next time. i promise. “be careful on the way back, okay?”

you nodded at him to go ahead. he never ever failed to look back at you at least thrice while walking away.

tonight, you counted four.

finally, he turned a corner and you sighed.

"your highness." a car stopped in front of you not even a minute after, its front windows rolling down to reveal your assistant. you remember specifically asking him not to open the car door for you when he drops you off and picks you up a block away from the bookshop, things he still remembers to do until now.

you opened the door and sat yourself down on the backseat. "thanks, serim."

upon getting in, you knew serim was ready to update you about any developments on your current dealings, the most pertinent one being the donor’s ball, the first-ever palace event your parents, the king and queen, were letting you host on your own.

“there are some catering concerns that need to be finalized and i was told the guestlist for the donor’s ball is ready for you, your highness. when would you want to view it?”

“tonight is fine. it would be great if it was brought to the drawing-room when we arrive.”

“i’ll have it arranged. and a slot needs filling. one of the donors said they were withdrawing the donations for the children’s home, your highness,” serim reported, an undertone of annoyance just barely showing through at the said withdrawal.

“is it kim’s pages inc.?” you leaned your head on the window of the car and saw serim nod. “that’s fine. we have two weeks. that should be enough to find a replacement. let’s have a message sent to similar companies in town.”

“right away, your highness.”

you made a mental list of your commitments for the rest of the week, knowing you’d have no free time to have another one of your nights at the bookshop with allen for a few days. but this was your reality and you weren’t complaining. you were bringing people the help they needed. telling allen would have to wait.

"oh, and serim?” you leaned forward to peak at his face through the rearview mirror.

"yes, your highness?”

“remember when i told you not to call me ‘your highness’?”

“yes….your highness.” he shifted in his seat, holding back a snort.

"you don't have to call me that when we're alone. we're practically siblings and it feels weird. just casually, okay? and take those sunglasses off, it’s evening.” you patted his shoulder playfully from the backseat, all the walls of professionalism crumbling down with your high-pitched laughter.

"alright, y/n." he laughed and cleared his throat, loosening up at your signal.

serim, the only person inside the palace you could freely confide in when you were growing up, became your assistant at your request. his family has worked for the palace for years and no one could do the job better than him. ”since we're acting like actual buddies now, how's that bookshop owner doing? you told him already?” he asked, pulling up to the front gates of your residence which opened automatically at the sight of your vehicle.

"i will. soon.”

your decision to not appear on television, or any platform for that matter, even while you were accomplishing work for public service was something your family never questioned. in fact, they supported it, knowing what scrutiny could do to a young woman still finding her character.

that said, allen not knowing that you were a member of the royal family was not a big surprise, as you were less of a household face than the rest of the monarchy. you deliberately avoided media and the public eye with the help of your dedicated staff, but this didn't mean you dodged your responsibilities. you were busy as can be, meeting partners in private meetings, arranging food and basic support for local shelters, and making sure the palace helpers were well-compensated.

allen’s bookshop was your breath of relief after a long day. in fact, the morning after spending hours at your small second home always made you feel like you were living a double life—from the worn-down sofa and aged bookshelves to the grand halls and luxurious decorative pieces of the palace.

“honey, i heard you were working until 2 am last night. you should really be getting rest. you know how busy we’ll all be on the day of the ball.” the queen greeted you with a frown as you approached the breakfast table set under a small gazebo in the middle of the palace garden. you sat down and were faced with a complete breakfast setup of the best eggs, toast, fruit, and all kinds of beverages, ready for you like they always were in the mornings.

“good morning, darling.” the king greeted you after taking a sip of coffee. he eyed your mother, urging her to greet you good morning before the rest of her concerned reminders. “have some breakfast. you’ll need it with the way you’re bustling nowadays.”

“yes, father. and don’t worry, mother, we just had some unexpected things to iron out,” you assured your parents. with you taking care of the event for the first time ever, you knew they just wanted things to go smoothly.

the donor's ball was hosted every fall. its main purpose was to gather potential partners that will support the charities under the royal family’s care. it did mean going out and being seen more than you would like, but it was the perfect opportunity to bring more to your constituents. you couldn't pass up the additional support for your advocacies.

but to add to that, your parents seemed to think the donor’s ball had another purpose.

“the kangs are on the guestlist. i heard they were bringing their heir, minhee,” your mother shared, trying to sound nonchalant, but you knew exactly what she was hinting at. “right?” she nudged your father who almost choked on his buttered roll.

“right. jungmo is coming too. remember him? your horseback riding partner?” your father asked.

“when i was 12? yes, father. i remember. and for the nth time…” you smiled at both of them patiently. “i’m marrying neither minhee nor jungmo.”

the king and queen merely looked at each other. their attempts to push you to meet potential grooms in the donor’s ball were now out of the picture.

“it’s alright, i got it, thank you.” you smiled at the palace helper and took the pot of tea from her hands, pouring your own cup.

“then who will it be, y/n? you know we always let you do what you think is best for you, but we only had one request: good in-laws.” the king asked, still sounding gentle as ever despite his hard exterior and the ever-so-pressing question.

“you get a choice, dear.” your mother smiled at you over the breakfast table. “you can find someone to marry yourself or you can entrust the task to me.”

“i’m on it.” you said almost inaudibly before taking a bite of your breakfast.

“come again?” your parents were all ears now. never hearing anything about the state of your heart was the norm for them, so you suddenly saying that you were ‘on it’ was quite the surprise.

you figured that if you were going to tell allen who you really were and how you really felt about him soon, your parents might as well know before they did anything funny, like set you up with kang minhee for example. minhee was great, but he was not allen.

“what if i want to marry the owner of that small bookstore?” you asked more confidently than before. they were silenced for a few seconds, again exchanging looks, but later on, they merely shrugged like they realized just who they were talking to. by now, they would have gotten used to how unpredictable their only child could be.

“then they had better pass their background checks. oh, and of course, we will have to interview them.” your mother explained. “—and don’t worry, i’ll tell your father not to scare them away.” she added after seeing that you were about to protest. to this, your father simply rolled his eyes, making the palace helpers giggle behind you. they always loved witnessing the rather casual exchanges you had with your parents.

“alright.” you smiled, grateful that you three reached an understanding. you were anxious, yes. how is he going to take this? but you were also visibly giddy. you had too many butterflies in your stomach to worry about anything else. the technicalities would have to be taken care of some other time. “you’re going to love him.”

your parents smiled at you purely, “we can’t wait to meet him.”

“if you treat every customer like this, they might end up falling for you.” allen shook his head, chuckling by himself inside his humble studio apartment. he was cooking up a simple lunch when he remembered what you told him the day before. unconsciously, he caught himself hoping that it was a masked confession. allen knew it was a reach, trying to deduce how you felt just from those words, but seeing how close you two have become—the lingering gazes, warm hugs, and pecks on the cheek—he hoped he had a chance to have his feelings reciprocated openly. it’s probably time to clear out where both of you stood. it’s been 3 years after all.

the first time you ever stepped inside the bookshop, allen thought you were terribly overdressed. it was just at the break of spring and summer. you entered the shop alone and almost unnoticed, with allen’s back turned and you making the door chimes sound softer than they usually do. he actually only realized you were inside the shop when he saw you perusing the aisle containing contemporary mystery novels. with the beige sundress and huge sunglasses that you wore, one wouldn’t assume that you were from that town.

“hi, uhm, are you a tourist?” allen asked, ready to offer his help if you said yes. however, he was not looking directly at you but at the book you had in your hands. it was one of the novels in his shop he was not very fond of due to its unnecessary wordiness and lack of research.

“uhm, no. but i am new to this shop. they have a good selection, huh?” you paused and chuckled at the expression on allen’s face. “don’t worry, i’m not fond of his writing, either.”

“huh?” with a confused expression, he looked up at your face for the first time.

“i noticed you were squinting at it,” you said, raising the book up to eye level.

“ah, i’m sorry.” a bashful laugh sounded throughout the bookshop. allen looked like he could be your age but he carried himself like a young child meeting someone for the first time. “but you have to admit, his book covers feel very satisfying.”

“that’s the only reason why i was holding it. to feel it.” you laughed along with him and noticed that he was carrying a stack of at least 10 books. you removed your sunglasses to have a closer look at the titles. “you’re buying all of that?”

“no, no. i— uh, own the shop, actually. just reorganizing.” he said shyly, not used to introducing himself to a customer because everyone in the neighborhood who came to buy from him already knew this fact.

“oh! and here i was asking you about your own selections! lovely shop, by the way, sir…?”

“allen. just allen.” he held out his hand. when he asked for your name with complete curiosity and with no trace of recognition on his face, you knew that this was going to be a new and interesting place to be. from then on, his bookshop was the only place outside the palace to witness your unquenchable thirst for reading.

with every visit, your relationship with allen bloomed from awkward exchanges of greetings and smiles to a routine of long-winded discussions—ranging from the sweet and the natural to the borderline debate-like—a welcome sign that you have grown comfortable in each other’s presence. aside from the fact that he still did not know a single thing about your family background, both of you could say that you’ve come to know each other well, even up to the smallest habits and preferences.

allen could not remember when he realized that he always missed you terribly on the days you wouldn’t come. he did not know when he started to want to hold you while you had your nose up in a book. he also couldn’t tell at what point in time in the past three years his heart started beating faster at every soft tinkling sound of the door chime, always wishing it was you who entered when he turned and looked.

although he was not sure exactly when he fell for you, he’s more than certain that he wanted to be able to spend time with you and maybe have a future with you outside of the confines of his store.

“if you treat every customer like this, they might end up falling for you.” the next time you came, he was going to tell you that he’s never done special gestures like that for any other customer. his heart simply becomes happy making you smile and he’ll be glad to continue doing so for as long as you let him.

allen smiled by himself again, thinking about the mug of hot cocoa and heartfelt confession he was going to give you when you come back.

it’s been a few days since you last got the chance to take a break from your endless meetings. the two weeks leading up to the ball clouded your mind with nothing but work, work, and work. the one free night you had before the ball was tomorrow and you would usually be feeling excited at the thought of seeing allen and being cradled by pages of fiction in your spot between the shelves. but with the case at hand, all you could do was worry. the excitement upon telling your parents about him was now replaced with a rabbit hole of concern.

“i can hear your heart racing through the phone lines, y/n…” your best friend said through the phone call. staying in your room cooped up with your thoughts just wasn’t going to do it. you needed someone who was not on edge to put you in the right mindset for tomorrow and no one could do it better than your childhood best friend, who just so happened to be the young prince of a neighboring kingdom.

“i know, hyeongjun. be the prince that you are and give me your thoughts, please.” you leaned your back on one of the pillars of your balcony, staring out at the wide expanse of your town and the few flickering lights in the distance. you wondered if allen was closing up his shop right this very moment.

“before that… tell me. why do you like this allen?” hyeongjun asked. as you knew he wasn’t one to judge based on status or occupation, you obliged.

“well…” you started to fill him in right from the very beginning. your eyes were still looking out at the town, but your mind was replaying your typical visits to the shop like a movie reel.

you told hyeongjun about how your heart would do somersaults seeing allen sitting on the front desk, looking dashing even in just a simple sweater; about how his eyes would light up when he turned and saw you enter the shop; how he would look down and have a tint of red on his cheeks, catching himself in the middle of a rant when you listened to his stories with a loving gaze and undivided attention.

you smiled dreamily as you continued to narrate how you found the very first note allen left for you. it was placed on top of a stack of aged books at the shelf you frequented. the note said: “y/n. because i noticed you seemed to love horror fiction. these are some of my favorites. tell me what you think about them? :)” you looked over at the front desk, meeting his eyes which were already looking in your direction. you gave him a thumbs up, earning an excited smile from him.

before you left the bookshop that day, you noticed a bunch of crumpled post-it notes inside the bin beside the front door, some of them with longer messages, some with scribbled out hearts and more smiley faces. you chuckled, imagining how flustered he must’ve been while deciding what to write before finally settling for the simpler message instead.

you jumpily described your surprise at how, several months after you first met, allen dared to hold your hand and pull you between the wooden shelves to show you the seat he set up just for you; how he would smile when you told him his shop brought you comfort; how the hours spent with him are the longest you could go without being served or addressed as a noble, but as a beloved friend and maybe even more.

“and his mind… he knows more things than i could possibly know. he’s smart. but he still listens to me like everything i say is brand new to him. he’s no prince, but he’s left me more to think about than any other prince i’ve met. no offense, hyeongjun. you know i love you.”

“none taken.” hyeongjun breathed out, taking in everything you said. “just now, it sounded like you were reading me a fairytale. y/n, i know you’re already a real princess, but you saying such things makes me think you’re a princess out of actual fantasy.”

“hyeongjun…” you whined, not understanding where he was going with this.

“okay, look. i don’t think it was for the fear of him treating you differently that you still have not told him about your background,” he rationalized. hyeongjun has always been a bubbly friend, but you could rely on him to be wise and objective when you needed it the most. “it was the comfort that he brought you after a long day. maybe it was the way he treated you like an equal that kept you contented with what he knows about you at this point in time.”

you stayed silent and felt the waves of worry ebbing away because of how accurately he described your situation.

“my point is, y/n, if he was everything you described him to be, he would understand why you took this long to tell him. don’t get ahead of yourself, okay?” hyeongjun asked. “but if he reacts negatively, i can always send some of my personal guards to talk it out with him and—“

“hyeongjun!”

“i’m kidding! i just wanted to make you laugh,” he said giggling. you shook your head and laughed along with him, feeling yourself gaining more will to face the next day. the sigh you had now was one of partial relief

“thank you… i mean it.” you told him. “see you at the ball?”

“it’s your first donor’s ball. i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

#cravitywriters #cravity #cravity scenarios #cravity imagines #cravity fluff #cravity angst #cravity x reader #allen ma #allen imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #idol x reader #royalty au

43 notes · View notes

l-resonant-l · 3 years

Text

105 Sides

Last week I woke up to a message on Tumblr that read “Simon nuked the server but we have a new one made where we’re all friending each other” and a link to a discord. I entered the discord. People greeted me and I asked what happened. One person offered to tell me privately. Before they could I was told a toxic person joined the server, started triggering people, Simon got mad and kicked him, people started talking about it and questioning Simon, and that Simon got mad and deleted the server.

I don’t remember how I respond to these messages. I asked where some of my friends were. I chatted with people. Later on I was given more details from certain people. People posted screenshots of what happened in the discord. Then screenshots of Simon talking to and arguing with people were shared. People started getting angry at Simon, myself included. People started saying Simon was being abusive. People started saying he deleted the discord because he was throwing a tantrum.

The discord was gone. The place I’d gone every day to share my troubles, my joy, to find company. The place that had grown to feel like a second home was just gone. I felt betrayed. In my anger, I said things. Things I will own up to right now. I called Simon an idiot. I compared him to my step dad who is incredibly smart but lacks emotional intelligence. I said he shouldn’t have been in charge of the discord or anything else. I went through nearly an entire day angry. I even began thinking about revenge.

That’s when I paused. That’s when I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. I took some more deep breaths and took a second look at the discord. People had started comparing the old discord to a cult. They compared the structure of the old discord to the Manson Family. They said that the old discord was cult-like because only Simon was in charge and Simon wanted to be the only one to handle disputes. Now, I’m no cult expert but this struck me as a weak argument. Do I think it was a good idea for only one person to handle every dispute between 105 individuals? No. That’s too much for any one person in my opinion. But one person wasn’t in charge, as I later learned. There was a ticketing system and issues could be voted on by all the mods.

I eventually suggested that maybe, if Simon truly did all these things, there must be something seriously wrong. Someone responded that Simon claimed to be sober. Which was not what I was implying. The discussion continued very fast paced as everyone started giving suggestions. One person implied that isdead was a “strawman” because his theories were all half-baked. That’s when I realized nothing I said could change what was happening. Eventually someone shared Simon's post on his website describing his side of the story. I read it and immediately felt like shit. I realized I had been caught up in the emotions of the crowd, as I know I am prone to do. I left the second discord in order to process my emotions on my own. I gathered as much information as I could and I thought.

Here’s what I know: I didn’t see everything. I only came in during the aftermath. And even if I was there, only so much can be communicated online. A source I trust was on the phone with Simon as he was sick during the events on the discord. An obviously manipulative and troubled person entered the discord. Simon, human or not, is just a person. As many people on that discord have learned first hand, the signs that someone is abusive or manipulative are always obvious in retrospect but not always in the moment. I will never know all 105 sides to this story. But I do know there are at least 105 different sides to this story. I loved that discord. It felt like home and the people there like family. I trusted everyone there. And I still do. I trust that all 105 of us did what we thought was right in the moment. That includes Simon. That includes everyone in the new discord. That includes everyone who walked away completely. The discord is gone now. That cannot be changed. People are angry. People are sad. People are feeling quite a lot. Some people will stay angry. I know I will stay sad. But the moment is over now.

It’s okay for the emotions to stay there. But it’s time to reanalyze the situation completely with as much new information and perspectives you can gather, and see if you come to a new conclusion. When I paused and reanalyzed my opinion changed. You don’t have to change your opinion. You don’t have to land on one side or the other. You don’t have to agree with anyone else. But things are settling now and it’s time to breathe deeply and take a second look with fresh eyes.

#simon alkenmayer

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aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Chinese-Inspired Fantasy Books That Reframe Familiar Fairy Tales

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Reframing fairy tales has long been a common subgenre of fantasy fiction and, at the end of 2020, three authors put their own spins on stories (or fairy tale structures) familiar to most Western audiences by incorporating Asian mythology and settings. S. L. Huang combined European fairy tale Little Red Riding Hood with the Chinese tale of Hou Yi the Archer to form a story of redemption, love, and family in Burning Roses. Chloe Gong cast tragic English characters Romeo and Juliette as gangsters in 1920s Shanghai—pitting them against a Lovecraftian monster rising from the depths of the Huangpu River in These Violent Delights. And Nghi Vo continued her Singing Hills cycle, set in a world inspired by Imperial China, with an original story reminiscent of Middle Eastern folktale The Thousand Nights and One Night in the novella When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain. While none of these books are intended to be read together, all three make an excellent combination of courses for your literary meal, especially if you’re looking to dive into more fantastical tales written by Asian American authors.

Burning Roses by S.L. Huang

Fairy tales frequently feature young protagonists, especially young women, in peril. Some are able to evade dire fates through their own wits, while others must be rescued. Readers seldom see what becomes of them in their middle age, but that’s exactly what Huang takes on in her novella, Burning Roses.

Red Riding Hood, here called Rosa, survived the wolf attack that killed her grandmother. The event convinces her of the evil of the grundwirgen, speaking animals whom her grandmother had tried to teach here were just as much people as humans, but whom her mother had raised her to hate. Her mother’s point proven right, she sets off on a quest to rid the world of grundwirgen, teaming up with Goldie (whom she rescued from bears, and whom she later realizes is a thief and a con artist). But by the time readers meet Rosa, she’s left that life long behind, and now accompanies Hou Yi, the famous archer of Chinese lore, on a quest to keep people safe from unthinking monsters. (Hou Yi is traditionally described as male; here she is female, and she complains that Westerners from Rosa’s lands “insist on calling me a man.”)

Hou Yi, like Rosa, has her own demons to slay, and not just the literal ones. As Hou Yi and Rosa fight off a group of sunbirds, nearly dying from the smoke and fire, Hou Yi is confronted by her own past—the apprentice who turned against her. That apprentice is now a sorcerer, and has raised the sunbirds against Hou Yi in a twisted act of revenge.

But of course, it’s not that simple, either. Hou Yi and Rosa both acknowledge their own troubled pasts, and the wrongs they’ve both done, especially to those they love, weigh them down so heavily they almost cannot bear to move. The relationship between these two women, who truly see each other because they recognize a kinship of regret and repentance, is powerful. Without revealing too much in the way of spoilers, the feeling of the novella is that even in the midst of despair, it is possible to hope—especially when someone else can help carry the burden of your past.

Along with nods to Goldilocks and Little Red Riding Hood, there are additional mentions of Western fairy tales like Puss in Boots and Sleeping Beauty. Hou Yi’s story also closely mirrors the traditional tales, but familiarity with them isn’t required; those who already know the story may catch hints in the story earlier about where the tale will end, but Huang’s use of folklore from both Europe and China is complete within the story, and no additional outside sources are needed to get full enjoyment from the tale.

These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong

What happens when you mix 1920s Shanghai with The Sopranos, Lovecraftian horror, and Romeo and Juliet? With Gong at the helm, the result is a chillingly violent romance that readers may hope, despite the source material, will come to a happy ending.

In These Violent Delights, Juliette and Roma are the heirs to the two gangs of Shanghai, crime families who once controlled the city but are both losing ground as more foreign interests—and communists—rise to power. Juliette Cai is the future leader of the Scarlet Gang, the only remaining Chinese power in the city. Roma Montagov is a White Flower, son of generations of Russians who fled the Bolsheviks, and now in a dangerous predicament as his father has begun to favor another Montagov over his own son as the possible heir. Years ago, Juliette and Roma met in secret, determined to defy their parents, pledging that together they could bring peace and prosperity to Shanghai.

But those years are long past, and now nothing exists between them but hatred—or so each of them claim. They would continue to be solely enemies if not for a contagion sweeping through the city, hitting Scarlets and White Flowers with equal severity, that causes the victims to rip out their own throats. The contagion seems to follow sightings of a monster—a creature that witnesses claim drives people mad. Investigating on their own, they are chasing their own tails. Together, they could be unstoppable…

Before you say that the story isn’t really a fairy tale—it long predated Shakespeare’s play—and while it includes no fairies, the element of the poison that emulates death borders on the supernatural. Gong’s addition of a monster that rises from the river and compels people to suicide brings in enough additional supernatural elements (mixed with a healthy dose of 1920s science) to include it within the genre. At the same time, the novel is just as much a crime drama; the feuding criminal families are vibrantly, violently drawn, and their ruthlessness makes it difficult to consider heroes (even while readers root for Roma and Juliette’s romance).

One of the delights of the story, for those familiar with Shakespeare’s telling of the tale, is watching Gong’s naming conventions give clues to the role the characters play. Lourens, a scientist working with the White Flowers, is an analog to Father Laurence; Benedikt and Marshall are Romeo’s friends Benvolio and Mercutio, while Juliette’s hotheaded cousin Tyler is Tybalt. But though they don’t always play into type (and they have their own motives far beyond the traditional tale), readers will still be waiting for that moment when Tyler and Marshall face off, and Marshall lays a plague on both their houses. That the story, while self contained, leads directly into a subsequent volume will have readers waiting to find out if fair Shanghai will one day see a glooming peace, and whether Roma and Juliette must both be sacrificed to achieve it.

When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain by Nghi Vo

Vo’s novella is the second story featuring scholar-cleric Chih, who collects stories from far off places in order for them to be recorded for the archives at Singing Hills. In Chih’s first story (The Empress of Salt and Fortune), they and their recorder bird, Almost Brilliant, had an adventure; now Almost Brilliant is tending a clutch of eggs, leaving Chich to journey on their own. Luckily, Chich has guide Si-yu, a mammoth corps scout, to lead them through the mountains.

Unluckily, there are three tigers hunting in the mountains, and a lone mammoth and a few humans seem like a tasty meal. Si-yu and her mammoth, Piluk, reach safety, and Chih calls an uneasy truce with the tigers: Chih knows the tale of Ho Thi Thao’s marriage, and they ask the tigers to correct it for Singing Hills. The tigers refuse to tell their version—the true version—but they’re willing to let Chih tell the version they know, and correct the cleric when they get things wrong.

And so Chih tells the story of Ho Thi Thao and her human wife, Scholar Dieu—all the while, during the tale, keeping the hungry tigers from eating the humans. Chih weaves elements of ghosts—and the tigers add fox spirits, correcting the story; Chih gives a version in which human Dieu has most of the agency, and the tigers correct the tale to make Ho Thi Thao the hero. The story always feels very tightly organic to the Singing Hills cycle: the mammoths are a particularly delightful element of the setting, and the talking tigers, who can take the form of humans, feel a true part of the setting once readers (and Si-yu) become accustomed to the idea of conversing with them. In fact, Si-yu often takes the side of the tigers, preferring the details they give the story to Chih’s version.

But while the world is very much its own, the story is very reminiscent of the traditional tale of Scheherezade, who staved off death with her stories night after night. While When the Tiger Came Down the Mountain feels very much a new story, it also feels familiar, the way that being tucked in with a familiar bedtime story might, especially for readers accustomed to bedtime stories with the threat of being eaten by tigers.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

For the two stories with already familiar characters, the Chinese (or Chinese-inspired) settings offer a new perspective for readers less familiar with East Asian mythology, and help readers to see those tales in a new and different light, enhancing the old tales with a new point of view. For the original story, embracing the feel of older tales lends it the feeling of being at once both new and comforting. In all ways, these three tales offer the sense of meeting old friends for the first time—and coming out the other side enriched by the experience.

The post Chinese-Inspired Fantasy Books That Reframe Familiar Fairy Tales appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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art-now-germany · 3 years

Photo

Retrospective - Limited Edition 1 of 8, Goedz Illa

. . _______________________________ Entire edition of 8 + 1 AP (artist’s proof); all sizes included; . . REGULARLY the artwork comes ready to hang (no further framing necessary), printed with light-resistant archival inks on the best acid-free archival photo canvas (by Hahnemühle) on stretcher frame. The print is coated with a UV, scratch and humidity front protection varnish also by Hahnemühle. ALTERNATIVELY if you wished it as an archival ink pigment print on acid-free fine art paper by Hahne-mühle: just tell me when purchasing; please go to general contact for that => “request type” => “Contact The Artist”. You cannot attach fine art paper directly on the wall without laminating or framing it behind glass or acrylic glass, which in addition is also a UV protection (I recommend “UV 100” by Plexi). If you preferred the paper option, you can have the artwork sent directly to your local photo lab or framing service by giving their ad-dress to SaatchiArt when you are purchasing. My TIFF files of high resolution photos of 42 to 168 megapixel also allow to view larger prints from close and still see the small but often important details clearly and sharp. Prints produced by a renowned specialist laboratory (no cheap internet upload prints) for best image quality, durability/archivability and long term inflation-proof investment in art. Comes with a hand-signed and numbered certificate 1) that guarantees the limited artwork is for ever only available at the entire edition stated and 2) that lists the premium materials used to produce the prints. The certificate can be attached to the back of the frame. Please allow 5 to 10 working days production time for canvas and 3 to 5 for fine art paper. Carefully, professionally packed with acid-free materials. If there is any further question, feedback etc., feel free to message me. . . . . Only to whom it may be interesting to get information about the context and content of this group of works: The art photograph as seen above is part of a project with the working title "Unity". The following text is only understandable with the pictures of the four “Unity” photo works, which you can see in seperate offers here. UNITY The contradictions and connections of some phenomena of quantum physics with philosophy and our everyday experiences are part of my inspiration, but not the subject of group of works. Even if partially visible in the pictures, the specially developed tools do not form the content either. Rather, it’s mainly about making it possible for people to experience the flow of the boundaries between art and the viewer, and generally between subject and reality and thus the truth. Interlocked there are other levels, such as psychological ones and the question of how the time is to these constellations. A detailled interpretation of these contents is deliberately omitted here as well as within the pictures, in which questions are raised rather than answered, in order to leave the recipient neither too much nor too little space for associations and own thoughts. Yet, for a better access, it is important to document the above-mentioned tools as well as the processes: (Image) Bei Pfeiffers, 2017 The photographer, the camera and the viewer of a photo usually adopt the same perspective, that of the image carrier. For ten years I’ve been thinking about various possibilities how to split this situation in order to have them make individual statements when needed. In the photographic work „At Pfeiffers“, for example, the photographer is no longer in that position, but can be seen in the picture. A part of the camera system, the smartphone and laptop, with which he is driving the cameras, also changed the perspective. Furthermore I adjusted the window casement so that the camera is visible in the reflection (and also the actual opposite of the cafe). The viewers now experience themselves more as though they alone adopt their perspective, more as part of the work of art and the events in the image more directly and in their own way. (Image) Distant Blue (triptych), 2016, In the triptych „Distant Blue“, on the other hand, the recipient becomes aware of his direct partic-ipation, be-cause he has a structure directly in front of his eyes. It is as if he himself were stand-ing there, but it also feels as if at the same time this was someone else, who has been there already, looking into the distant blue. This curtain can be seen in both photographs. I have them printed on canvas and mounted on a stretcher frame, so that they are coherent with the third part of the triptych, which consists of the original curtain mate-rial mounted on the same kind of stretcher frame. The information field reality of the photo is confronted here with the reality expe-rienced by us, namely with a material part from the motif of the picture. (Image) Coordinates, 2016 Like most of my photographs, also this one was taken in several parts by shifting the digital back of a viewer camera, which allows getting a very high resolution for large photo prints (for example with a width of 400 cm/13 ft and viewed from close up the very small performer is still completely sharp). In the case of this artwork, however, the performer also moves with each section of the photograph taken, and thus appears several times in the entire picture. Knowing this, the viewer can experience not only the result, but also the process and the aspect of time in a better way. The location and image motifs were chosen and processed in such a way that one perceives even more something like a time axis. The direction of motion of the performer was reversed in one half of the picture, which makes one think he goes against that time axis. The water mirror side was also taken in separate parts, whereby deliberately neither a chronology nor linearity was kept in the motif. (Image) Retrospective, 2017, My intention is that “Retrospective” is perceived as only one single picture and, on closer exami-nation, at the same time as the four photographs contained therein. The viewer can now adopt different perspectives (from the left to the right): The one from behind the scene, the one on the motif person and - unusually - also the one of the motif person as well as the „back view“ on the building he is situate in. In summary, with the work group „Unity“ a new kind of photography is emerging for me. . . .

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Photography-Retrospective-Limited-Edition-1-of-8/1008693/3815636/view

#modern #fineart #GoedzIlla

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

The Softest Fire (Part 13)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 1957

Warnings: dealing with animals(??)

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo.

“I could have handled him, you know?” I quietly stated from my vanity, not facing my fiance. His face glowed in his own vanity behind me, our mirrors revealing our faces to each other, though our backs were turned.

“What was that?” he softly asked.

“The informant. I was trying to protect you today, to help. I could have easily disarmed Joshua and even destroyed him for you.”

“I don’t need you doing that,” he reminded.

“Then what do you need me to do?” I questioned, finishing my nightly routine, clad in only a burgundy satin negligee.

He spun, leaning against his vanity when he peered at me in the mirror. “What are you talking about?”

I turned on my stool, facing him. “When are you going to let me have more responsibility?”

“When you’ve earned it,” he stated matter-of-factly, crossing his arms. “So far you’ve done well in securing most of the Ministry and powerful families for our cause, and I applaud that but--”

“But what? I’m only a socialite who can be the pretty face for your campaign? Gellert, I want to do something. I want to be part of this. I want to help build this empire.”

He frowned, as if he were unsure of why I was frustrated. “You are, what makes you think you aren’t?”

“You let Vinda run here and there on her own, as your Lieutenant. Credence accompanies you on nearly every outing. You’ve taught Abernathy the art of discretion. Queenie is your advisor, for Merlin’s sake! But I have to go, alone, to dozens of meetings with Ministry members, to spread our message. I never get to speak at the meetings when you’re there--”

“Rosaline, have I not given you my life?” he questioned, his voice hard.

I nodded, glancing down to the giant ring on my finger. “You have, but--”

“Did I not relocate us to one of the most beautiful castles in the western hemisphere? A gorgeous new place for you to call home?”

Again, I couldn’t deny this. “Yes, you have.”

“And without you, most of our endeavors would be null, correct?”

The wind in my sails decreased. “I...I--”

He took a few steps across the room, closer to me, resting his backside against the foot of the bed. “Without you, all of this would be meaningless. You are the reason our numbers have nearly tripled at an expected rate. You are the reason we have funding, supporters, people that call themselves our ‘army’. You get to call yourself my bride as soon as we attain everything we want. What else could you possibly long for?”

“I just want to feel like I actually matter to you, to this cause, instead of me running to you to find out the next steps of your plan. You’re so… shut off from me most of the time, and I have no idea what your plan is.”

“You don’t need to know that,” he insisted, not budging. “You need to do as your told, and that’s it.”

His comment made me stiffen before I got to my feet. “I’m not a puppet or a trained dog, Gellert. If you really loved me, you would disclose your plans to me, or let me in about your past… Something!” I begged, taking a few steps closer to him.

“I have given you everything! Why must you demand more?” he shot back as he jolted from the bed, standing nearly a head over me.

“Because I want us to be partners…” I simply said. “Together. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes, of course. I just don’t understand why I must inform you of every one of my thoughts. You are far too disillusioned to think that everyone but you is close to me. I assure you that is not the case. I keep them in the dark, much more in the dark than I do you.”

“Then why do I feel so isolated?”

“Darling, if I wanted you to be isolated, you would be. I wouldn’t let you do half of the things I encourage you to do. But here you are, in our bed chambers, where no one else is allowed, not ever. You will be my wife, you share in all the important events that I need you to be in. Trust me, my love, if there were another task or another responsibility I thought you needed to bear, I would give it to you before you could blink.”

I stared at him, concern coloring my mind.

“I think you’ve done quite enough work as it is.”

“If you say so,” I concurred in an overly soft voice.

“Come, let’s go to bed,” he offered, holding out his hand.

I took it, letting him lead me to the four poster.

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

The following morning, Gellert had disappeared somewhere, without telling me. I took this opportunity to investigate more. All I wanted was to be closer to the love of my life, was that such a criminal act?

I found Vinda, Abernathy, Carrow, Queenie, and Krafft in the breakfast room. I was relieved to see Credence was nowhere in sight.

“Hello, everyone,” I greeted cheerfully as I entered. They all greeted me happily, not surprising at all. Since the events that took place with Credence, no one seemed to dare defy me or treat me with anything other than the utmost kindness. “How is everyone today?”

“Fine,” was murmured from a few of the people around the room. Vinda sat at the table, stirring her tea, Carrow on the other side of her. The other three were scattered around the room.

I peered at all of them, amusement touching my face and tone. “You all seemed to have let my presence stop your conversation. Please, don’t let me interrupt. I’m merely here to fix a cup of tea.”

A tension still held a tight hold on the room.

“We were just discussing our next plan of action,” Queenie finally spoke up, a bit somber.

I peered up over my cup before sipping. “Is that so? Mind filling me in?”

Her eyes danced around the room. “I, uh, I’m not sure if we--”

“Oh come now, we’re all friends. Whatever Gellert has told any of you, the secret is safe with me,” I assured.

“Well, if that’s the case… He plans to go to America next, to convert them.”

“That won’t be easy,” I stated, remembering how Newt revealed him as an imposter at MACUSA.

“See? Even she thinks so!” Krafft agreed suddenly, his voice slightly angry.

“Calm yourself,” Vinda ordered. Her tone was cold as ice.

“What is it?” I wondered.

Krafft looked at Vinda briefly before turning his gaze on me, determined courage in his eyes and stance. “Some of us are worried that he’s becoming too ambitious too quickly.”

“What do you think he’ll do if he hears this sort of doubt?” Vinda snapped venomously.

“I don’t care,” he argued. “We are his supporters, we should be able to share our thoughts and opinions.”

“You could bring up these concerns at the next meeting,” Queenie offered.

He turned slightly, directing himself more at Queenie. “He could already have moved on with his phase by then!”

“What do you suppose we do?” Carrow retorted. “I’m not going to bring it up to him. Any one of you can be my guest.”

“This is near betrayal,” Abernathy suddenly spoke. “For any of you to doubt him is shameful. He only wants the best for us, for all of us! And here you are, questioning him.”

“So we’re just supposed to blindly follow him?” Krafft questioned, incredulous.

“None of us ever know what he’s going to do next,” Carrow agreed. “How can we trust him, if he doesn’t trust us?”

“He fears betrayal,” Queenie stated simply.

“And from the looks of it, he has every right to,” Abernathy commented, crossing his arms.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Vinda suddenly commented, turning her attention to me.

“I’m simply here to observe,” I assured with a smile and shake of my head.

“Well you must have some opinion,” she pressed.

“Well… I don’t want to speak out of turn, especially about Gellert, but… It does concern me why he does keep all of us out of the loop. Why? What does he not want us to know?”

With that, clamor erupted in the room. Krafft and Carrow began to agree as Queenie and Abernathy tried to reassure them. I pressed my lips together in guilt. I didn’t like speaking of Gellert that way but his dodginess was starting to hurt me. I merely wanted to get close to him, get to the bottom of things, that’s all.

“Could you all excuse me while I talk to the future Mrs. Grindelwald?” Vinda suddenly requested over the commotion.

Everyone begrudgingly quieted down before exiting, bidding a goodbye to me.

As soon as they were gone, she stood in front of me, her hands were on her hips. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing,” I said defensively. “I’m trying to figure out my fiance.”

“May I suggest doing it some other way than dividing our ranks?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, Vinda. I swear. I just… Gellert and I had a little disagreement last night and I’m just trying to get closer to the people who are close to him. That’s all.”

At my words, Vinda peered at me. “That’s understandable. He’s a very private man, though, you know that. You knew that when you agreed to marry him,” she reminded gently, taking a step towards me and squeezing my shoulder.

“I know… I just want to be closer to him. I’m just… I’m struggling because I don’t remember much before I got here. I remember it. I remember my life. But it’s…fuzzy. I remember the main details, but everything else is a blur. It’s starting to feel lonely.” I hugged myself, not usually this vulnerable, for anyone, but it was the truth. As time ticked on with Gellert, I felt less and less like his fiance and more like a chess piece. What bothered me more was that I couldn’t remember my life. Memories weren’t clear.

She bobbed her head. “You wouldn’t. The spell wouldn’t allow for that.”

My eyes narrowed as my brow furrowed. “What spell?”

“Hmm? What, oh, I must be confused,” she dismissed with a sweet smile.

I shook my head. “No. What spell would affect my memories, Vinda? We’re best friends. Tell me, please,” I half begged, half ordered.

“It’s nothing. Just… You were so distraught, leaving your family was hard. Grindelwald could tell the toll it took on you, that’s all. He thought he would ease your guilt and sorrows by softening the sorrowful memories associate with your past life. Your cousin who resented you, the man who loved another, the employees who didn’t give you the respect you deserved. All of this, he eased for you.”

I nodded, trying to remember just when he did this, but it escaped me.

“I… I had no idea,” I finally said, my eyes drifting to the floor.

“Well of course. He didn’t want you to forget your family entirely. He understood how much you loved them, but he did want you to forget the bad. He truly loves you, darling,” she affirmed as she wrapped one arm around my shoulders, the other hand supporting my left shoulder as she escorted me out of the breakfast room. “Now, let’s say you and I go shopping. If we’re going to be in America, we’ll need new dresses.”

I nodded in agreement, but for the first time since I woke up with Gellert, I didn’t feel happy and content… I felt numb and unsure.

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

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#the softest fire #newt scamander x ofc #newt scamander x oc #newt scamander fic #newt scamander

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, EMMA! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF DMITRI.

Admin Cas: There’s something so tragic about Dmitri that I love: everything about him is a contradiction. Yet, for all his love and light, he’s also really quite terrifying, and the way you balanced both of those aspects of their character was truly breathtaking, Emma. I thought your reflections on the idea of Dmitri as a sort of wingless angel was especially impressive. In spite of all the things that make them angelic, they can never truly be one with God’s angels. That, after all, is what sets him apart from their brethren; where they are ruination, he is its saving grace. I put this golden prince in your hands without fear that you’ll do wonderful things with him, and I can’t wait to see the directions you’ll go together! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Emma.

Age | 21+.

Personal Pronouns | She/Her.

Activity Level | I’m able to get a reply or two out at least once daily; depending on length, it could potentially be more or less than.

Timezone | Eastern.

Triggers | REMOVED.

How did you find the group? | LSRPG tag.

Current/Past RP Accounts | I delete my character accounts to create a blank blog for my next character account. I save snippets of threads I adore, so I’m so sorry. RIP - xoxo

IN CHARACTER

there is a swelling storm and i'm caught up in the middle of it all and it takes control of the person that i thought i was the boy i used to know.

CHARACTER

Dmitri , the Horsemen of Conquest

DRAW TO CHARACTER

I’ve never been the type to write a sample for a character before fleshing out the other bits first, but Dmitri’s voice whispered, begging to be explored as soon as I read their biography. The first sample you’ll read below was the initial picture I painted and kept throughout this application because Dmitri resembled that of a poor Icarus, who simply overindulged in something not meant for him to enjoy.

I imagined Dmitri in the seconds after creation gasping at the sights of Heaven, reaching back for white wings — only to be met by their bareback. Shoulders aching for the flight of angels, the purity evident in their veins to be his own, God’s presence given at a moments notice.

Yes — I very clearly drew these small, delicate details from a few lines, but Cas wrote this character in such a way I felt the weight of Dmitri’s needs as if they were my own to be met. The biography held me captive to do whatever would be in my ability to give this character justice for what they were never gifted. I still get butterflies reading over the biography and couldn’t stop what followed.

This application is my confession of love for Dmitri, and I would even offer to say this could be read as a fever dream because isn’t that what God would want? His beloved, lastly mad Horsemen to be written in a state of complete and total euphoria for conquest and recklessness… but more importantly, I hope to show how beautifully flawed this character is to desire to be loved by a dead God, and the journey I would take them on to realize their purpose was never tied to God’s needs.

FUTURE PLOTS

SUMMARY: I’ve written these in a format of progression based on what I think could occur first in-game based off of current connections, and Dmitri’s direct link of being a Horsemen, making it far more likely to push said plot first. Each builds upon the other in a sense of a video game character skill branching system. As in, I’ve written some answers or may propose them in a way, which would directly change a plot below it. Hope this helps explain the mess which is about to occur below!

FUTURE OF THE HORSEMEN

what happens to those who were meant to end a world already destroyed?

Their purpose set forth to them by God has come to no fruition as the world destroyed itself, at least in a way. Each Horsemen dealing with their new identity as a mercenary in their own way, but I can only speak from the perspective of Dmitri. When it comes to them, the Horsemen are family. They came from the same Gos as them, shaped from different moments but important just the same. Their future as a whole could be explored by each Horsemen’s motivation. For Dmitri, the idea of leaving them to go elsewhere seems far-fetched at first; a type of daydream when the cleanup after a job is too heavy to stay focused on. If given a bigger glimpse at something else, something Dmitri could find himself desiring to do, I imagine the Horsemen could find a strain.

FUTURE OF THE HEALING

what is the purpose of being one of healing if you watched the wounds be inflicted?

Building upon a strain forming within the Horsemen, Dmitri would first need to experience something so terrifyingly out of character for them to do, which could trigger a wave of events to follow. The concept of using their healing ability seems to be the “fun” direction as this golden boy not being able to save someone caught in the crossfires would be an angst ridden thread to experience. I want to shape his tenderness in a way to correlate with his healing. Dmitri’s process of healing someone is something I haven’t ventured much into yet — but I imagine the sight of it to be something beautiful, almost too beautiful to fully understand what you’re looking at. This light bringer among those who only bring darkness is the difference enough to push the first plot and this one forward.

FUTURE OF THE LOVED AND WORSHIPPED

what does one do with love and praise when all they expected was hate?

Imagine the first time someone witnessed Dmitri healing a mortal. Who was it? What occurred? No one who lives now among the mortals knows, yet their growing affection towards him makes me feel as if he’s gotten his own personal tale passed between them. Here in this new found love among men, I think Dmitri sees what he’s always wanted out of life, rather existence. It’ll be such a wild ride of secret trips to different parts of the world to see if he finds this love and praise everywhere. He’d be drunk over this, but there also comes the dark side of being given something kept from you for so long. Yes, I would love for this beautiful, precious Horsemen to ride happily off into the sunset… but there’s definitely some trauma left from God. Here within this, I find Dmitri’s breaking point could take place and all of the above could shatter.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | yes — given a month’s notice and option to decline? i feel as if the answer would be different depending on how they were to die and character development, if this makes sense.

IN DEPTH

but there is a lightin the dark, and i feel its warmth

in my hands and my heart why can't i hold on?

CHARACTER MOTIVATION

It’s unknown at first- their motivation. Perhaps, God always intended the existence of those who were meant to cause the end of the world to possess no motivation. Life to them, the Horsemen, was simply a story already written down in the stars, yet Dmitri walked out into the New World with the story finished and no part to play in it. Purgatory had warped their glowing essence, satisfying God’s need to prevent prayers said to Conquest over the God of Creation.

Yet motivations can still be rather fickle when they were never intended for you. Dmitri’s creation came from the infinite love God felt for man, yet they were never meant to have this (this being love) as their backbone. No, they were to indulge their fellow Horsemens’ wrath by mending the blows they were destined to cause. Their gift, their healing, their voice. All things given by God to serve a purpose not their own. Somewhere between all of the havoc and chaos of this world, there had to come a time where Dmitri sought to figure it out.

Their motivation laid rotting within the crevices of darkness and filth they called home all these centuries. Purgatory did it’s job more so than God could have ever intended because Dmitri struggled with purpose outside of God’s. Sunshine filled his veins in a way the darkness fed off of and merely left the Horsemen of Conquest bare. So walking out of, rather escaping from, Purgatory to Dmitri awakened this desire for answers. With the death of God, Dmitri discovered their rebirth into something rather ungodly as he wanted to become everything God never intended on him to be: loved.

From this death, Dmitri has discovered a solace with mortals he’d never found with the fellow Horsemen as there’s something to be said in regards to being made last. He didn’t resemble the others completely as he felt a mirror to man more so than his Horsemen. I imagine actions and motivation for him to be teetering currently as his own questions in the regards of ‘what’s next?’ as having a calling as a mercenary never sat well with him. He wants to be loved in a way God had left unspoken between them over the possibility of competition.

SUMMARY: Throughout interactions and inner thoughts expressed throughout this roleplay, I would love to dive into the future plots tying into Dmitri’s motivations above with the balance of being deemed as loved or worshipped. Dmitri needs to be loved, yet I think if it ever rocked towards him being worshipped, it’d be a nice little shift of what truly motivates him. Overall, I find my motivating factor to be Dmitri’s voice and relationships with the Horsemen due to my overall understanding of how much he truly values them. Yes, he’s always wanted more for himself, but there’s always going to be the glimpses of why he is among their ranks. He isn’t pure as the angels or as mischievous as the demons, but I find Dmitri’s complexities something of value as a character in a world without restraints.

IN-CHARACTER PARA SAMPLES

i. DREAMS AND THE HEREAFTER

‘Icarus, my son — your wings are too brittle for the warmth of light. Now, I shall watch you burn with the rest.’ Or was the name spoken across the lips of God dmitri? Did he curve the appetite of man’s undeserving love of their creator by existing? Were his screams - for more - not enough to make the tear from God’s eye a regret?

‘But father, I shall fly with you. We can escape together. No mortal shall ever have to look upon our faces again. We can finally be--’ Scorned brow silenced all of his pleas, bringing the truth to the forefront. Dmitri dreamed before the tear was ever caught and molded into the literal form of his being. They knew of themself from the perspective of God’s eye and convinced themself of something which wasn’t there. ‘Am I never to be free of this burden then? Am I to suffer?’

They painted a world where they crawled from the depths of Purgatory, where their strength came from the purity of man, where God Himself welcomed Dmitri back into Heaven as if he’d never gone. In this recurring dream, God would realize the mistake to tuck away his most prized creation.

The final Horsemen did not deserve the caverns of impermeable darkness Purgatory supplied them because somewhere in the infinite of his existence, he truly believed himself to bare wings.

‘Suffer? Suffer! You are the brilliance of life; my creation. Do you wish to know what I plan to do with you? Follow me, Conquest. Your domain awaits.’

Their eyes open with horror, memories of a man - rather a god who loved him less. A god who created him by mistake. An outstretched arm from active slumber finds its way back onto their chest, an unsteady rise and fall of breaths lost. His own torment from sleep a self-given punishment as he allowed himself to fall into the corners of his own mind. The hidden doors which locked memories long forgotten as he believed himself to be more than he was.

God regretted shedding a tear for out came the brightest of shadows, the technicolor snake of dispute in the form of a golden angel. They were truly no closer than their brethren to bearing wings, but if one deserved them, Dmitri would declare themself so.

Instead of wings, however, cascading down their back, you would find a seeping hole of nothing; a hollowed out mine of what could have become of them. It is the wickedness they hide beneath enchanting smiles, minor suggestions, and lack of resolve which will keep their back bare. Denial being a sort of game which they’ve mastered over the years.

Once, one might have spotted the prospect of gold, sinless existence within them, but they were not created like the other angels, the other horsemen, the other fallen. They were made as the result of emotion, and one knew what followed closely with emotions — mistakes or rather the sins of man.

They were the rotten cavities created over years of divulging in sweets, buried in the crevices of newborn teeth who hadn’t the taste of sugar.

And in their devastation, Dmitri destined themself to find the answers which God withheld from them.

ii. DENIAL IN THE FORM OF SINFUL BEAUTY

“You’re late — again.” A simple nod towards either Nerissa or Viktoria felt enough to find his place among his family, his fellow Horsemen.

One thumb found its way to his temple before releasing a heavy sigh. “Dreams haunt me recently.

“You mean nightmares.” Nerissa could never resist correcting him over something so miniscule as words, yet this simple exchange caused a growing irritation to sprout wings and turn into complete rage.

His temples tensed, nostrils flared with fingernails already cutting at the skin of his palm. “You honestly think I’m mortal enough to switch the meaning of two words, War?” Tongue pressed against the back of their teeth, Dmitri allowed their body to sink into their assigned chair, of sorts. Each had a place within the others home as if each home belonged to all four of them collectively.

“Someone woke up feeling out of place again.” Always Ryuk with a quick word before letting the storm brew on.

“It’s the dreams — I wake up in horror over...” Their eyes, washed in an array of gold, scanned the softness of their palms, the lack of scars on their flesh, the harrowing displacement of havoc in their words, and the deficiency of darkness their fellow Horsemen possessed. “...for it is the dream I can never grasp.”

With the unblemished palm, he wiped away at both of their eyes, trying to remove the hints of sleep behind them. More importantly, he wanted more than anything to remove any attempt of truth being proven by Nerissa’s words.

Harsh snarled laughter came from the corner of their domain, mocking their spiral for something less than what it was. To Dmitri, they saw these dreams as something more of an awakening, uncovering their last moments with God.

“What is the point of man if not to suffer, dear Dmitri?”

“But I am no man!” Fists shattered the monotony of the discussion, calling in the last ounce of sanity any of them could take as they stood from the table. “I am no god.” The once golden irises, which mirrored the glory of the sun’s warmth, now mimicked the lava spewing from a devastating volcano. “I am Conquest, and I shall suffer no more!”

Here in the brilliant, pure light of their anger, their risen voice, the very might of their denial gave birth to something else.

A soft chuckle from the other side of the room destroyed any build up between the others as Viktoria waltzed over to them.

“He’s not wrong… None of us are man, so none of us shall suffer.” Viktoria’s hand draped over theirs with a tenderness they’d only felt from the mortals, but it was enough to show Dmitri the horsemen had the ability to give him what he wanted.

#accepted #accepted: dmitri

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bubmyg · 5 years

Text

a coastal cabaret - pjm

pairing: jimin x reader

warnings: very very loosely inspired by the movie footloose, fluff, angst, major character death (prior to the events in which the fic details), death mention, themes of grief and loss, hoseok is the lovable best friend (i based him off willard if you’ve seen the movie lol), probably incorrect boat terminology

word count: 14,761

summary: sometimes an outside perspective is all that’s needed for the tragic events of the past to transform into something beautiful or the one where hoseok can’t dance and jimin is determined to keep the smile on your face.

a/n: six weeks in the making and she’s here...be gentle to me pls (also it’s definitely not necessary to have seen the movie to read this fic!!! i very loosely based the premise off the movie)

There was a tiny boat at the end of the dock, red with white stripes and a fanned awning suspended over the bench seats, five to a row, the sixth where the driver rests. The paint has been ruined over the years and seasons, bubbled in places, chipped in others, stained from the sun until it’s essentially burnt orange while the white becomes a dirty beige. There’s stickers altering the paint too, sponsorships and advertisers that both literally and figuratively keep the boat and business afloat.

A bright yellow sticker for the surf shop up the coast even if the only viable surfing location is over an hour in the next town over. A cartoon shrimp with a speech bubble announcing the new chain seafood restaurant parked up the shore in, to the untrained eye, what looks like a sand dune. A years old logo for the tourist boat company taking the brunt of the aging, missing entire letters, not the same one screen printed on the limited edition t-shirts hanging off the rental barn or proudly pasted to the upgraded yachts parked as the boat’s neighbors.

Upgrades a last ditch effort to save the crippling effects of mass media on the town. The sea water seemed to swallow the efforts along with a few hundred thousand dollars and a few tacky letters pasted on the side of the last family owned boat.

Se Bre ze Bo ts.

Jimin noted the waxed sheen off the bobbing machinery, marveling how such a thing could float when he was led past it, two, three, until there was no room left on the dock (in theory, he could have tested the water proof quality of his new shoes) and he was left with the sad rock of Ang l.

“And last but not least, the chariot,” Hoseok beamed, a wide sweeping move of his hand, palm up, presenting the boat and in the limited interaction Jimin had entertained with the red haired boy, he had every assumption to think he wasn’t being at all sarcastic.

Jimin scuffed his toe into the dock, wary to the creaks that emitted from that boat alone and he mumbled to the tiny school of baby fish that crowded around the supports, “...so that’s it?”

Hoseok laughed, a loud sound in the otherwise serene coastline, clasping a cupped hand over Jimin’s shoulder. “Keep them clean and we shouldn’t have any issues. That’s the extent of your duties. I don’t expect you to take the first group out tomorrow morning or anything, of course—” He tottered onto one foot, leaning into Jimin with a wrinkled dimple pressed into his cheek, “—...now the five o’clock…”

“Scare him off and you can go back to cleaning my baby for me.”

You paid no mind to the men in your path, cruising past their sandal clad feet to make it to your baby, otherwise known to Jimin as the saddest boat tethered to the dock. The bob of your head disappeared when you crossed onto the tiny paths jutting between the boats, a tiny rope in comparison to its tethered object your vice to drag it closer, legs stretching as you stepped and hoisted yourself until you were afloat with it, too.

Hoseok smacked Jimin’s torso, gesturing toward your figure as you hobbled about the front of the boat, collecting the damp rope with you as you went, as if to say are you seeing this? A ludicrous expression saturated in amusement for Hoseok’s friend.

Jimin didn’t have the pleasure of acquaintance.

“Jimin!” He called, an introduction in the way he formulated the words and offered a wave of his hand in greeting while the latter tucked into the pocket of his shorts.

A grunt and then a name, yours he presumed, floated over the side of the boat until your head popped up again, holding entirely more rope in your grasp than before.

“I’m about to do the nightly run,” You lifted your eyebrows, stance firm and even with the elevated stance the boat put you on in perspective to the two figures on the dock. “Are you two coming with?”

Another smack to his torso and Jimin audibly oofed this time, rubbing at the spot Hoseok’s knuckles had struck. “What do you say, new guy?” Hoseok chirped, smile only growing when the newcomer’s stanch gaze flickered to the corner of his eyes, “If not, you’re free to go. I have nothing else to show you—”

Jimin brushed past Hoseok, copying your movements, less gracefully albeit, to hoist himself up onto the side of the boat, dropping down with two feet into the depths of the machine. Hoseok came not long after, a purposeful scramble meant for comedic purposes that you nor Jimin laughed at but he smiled enough for everyone, anyway. You were elbow deep in reeling the anchor in, anyway, your stature giving away some mention between struggle and practiced ease but Jimin’s instinct went with the first, anyway, striding forward with outstretched palms.

“Here, let me help you with that—”

There was a series of mechanical clicks in the same moment, a groaning of the same fashion, all while you’d pulled your labor away from the manual wheel to turn to him with a bemused expression.

Amusement danced in the wave of your irises, the sea flickering in your expression as you nodded, “Thanks anyway.”

Somewhere among Hoseok’s monolog about the best breakfast cafe in the town and the adjustment to being out on the calm evening sea, Jimin found himself focusing on the silhouette of your figure, black outline detached like the clench of your jaw and the rigidity of your first impression. Jimin wasn’t much for those anyway, intrigued by what would commonly be seen as a negative “first”.

He’d been so focused on the mundaneness that was the back and forth of your hands on a series of controls he couldn’t make out beyond a shaded sun screen that he’d missed when you’d idled the boat far off the shore, only jerking to reality when you stepped off the elevated platform with a raised eyebrow in his direction.

The quirk of Jimin’s lips didn’t deter your prolonged stare, and neither did Hoseok’s loud announcement, your gaze only dropping when you plopped into a seat adjacent from him and accepted a condensation ridden can from Hoseok’s outstretched arm. Then it was a double take and scrunched confusion that met your expression, eyeing the logo on the aluminum before setting a glare on the side of Hoseok’s face.

“Where the hell did you get these?”

Hoseok shrugged, already fingernail deep in popping the tab on his beer can and taking a generous swig. He placed his aside, reaching elbow deep in an under seat cooler to present Jimin with one as well, something the younger boy dismissed with a soft smile.

“Up the coast. I have a life outside of saving your ass from the high tide, believe it or not.”

You were still fuming even as you opened it, “And how did you get these on my boat?”

Hoseok winked in Jimin’s direction, “On a whim that you’d be taking the boat out tonight. Like you do every night…”

Your sip was tiny in comparison to the swallow Hoseok had downed, gently placing the can aside, “You could have got us killed, you know that right? What if Namjoon had came down to the dock for a surprise inspection?—”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive but…” Jimin lounged forward in the seat he occupied, elbows pressing into his thighs, “It’s just beer?”

He caught you freeze in his peripheral, stature rigid where it was once relaxed and you coughed, casting your gaze aside to fingers that began to desperately fiddle with each other.

Hoseok answered instead, quipped and short, “There’s an alcohol ban within the town limits.”

An awkward silence passed, one Jimin didn’t challenge in the gentle sway of sea water against the side of the boat, an echoing noise where the same motion lapped onto the shore, a gentle push and pull of sand that mirrored the swirl of questions in his conscious, none of which sounded proper on the press of his tongue to the roof of his mouth so he stayed silent to the waves and scratch of your fingernail against the leather of the seat you perched in.

“So, new guy,” You spoke first, the slump of your stature inconsistent with the volume of your voice and he ignored the slight tremble in the upturn of your lips, “What brings you to this sleepy town?”

“After graduation, I decided to travel,” Jimin swallowed into picking at the hem of his shorts, “The easy answer is I ran out of money so I ended up here.”

Hoseok inquiry was straightforward this time, “What did you study?”

“Dance. Contemporary and modern mostly,” He laughed, unwillfully bitter, “A useless arts degree, I know.”

“Not useless,” You spoke again to the unraveled thread on the sewn edges of the leather seat you perched in.

Hoseok was louder, “Useless here, though.”

Jimin shrugged at the implication, shouldering the sentiment he’d had spoken much worse and with harsher insinuations than a virtual stranger teasing him on a boat in the middle of a coastal sea. Hoseok’s quick tone change from playful back to serious had Jimin quirking an eyebrow.

“I don’t think you understand. You won’t ever be needing that here,” Hoseok flicked his index and middle fingers back and forth so that the friction was audible, “Alcohol ban goes hand in hand with a dance ban.”

Jimin laughed. Genuinely, a loud, single syllable sound that pitched him forward over his knees. He sobered when he straightened to two expressions, one glassier than the other. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“Public, organized dancing,” You supplied, tight lipped to his ignorance, “Public organized events, mostly.”

Softer, Jimin amended this time, “But why?”

You stiffened again, same as before but looser in a sense, one knee coming to curl to your chest as you turned away from him, supporting the lean of your torso into the back of the seat. His lips parted to dismiss his question, say it didn’t matter, but Hoseok jumped in with a short explanation that ran guilt into Jimin’s blood.

“There was an accident a few years ago. On one of the boats,” Hoseok pressed his thumb and index finger into the sides of the can he held, gently popping the aluminum in and out while his chin pressed into his shoulder, “The town council members felt it would be best. Prevention of it ever happening again…”

Jimin swallowed the slew of questions on his tongue perfect for this silence to instead say, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright,” Hoseok seemed to perk up a bit then, “I’m surprised Namjoon didn’t advertise it to you in a neon poster board when you arrived.”

Your voice, softer, broke Jimin’s heart for a reason unknown to him but he decided that anything that saturated your spirit like that was worth protecting from you.

“Nothing you could have done, anyway.”

Jimin felt silly on the seventh day of reckoning with himself, white wires haphazardly tangled in the cradle of his palm while bare feet paced away a trail of already chipped paint on the creaky front porch of his house. He wasn’t a one man festival complete with an organized dance floor. All he had in his fridge was water, refilled from the tap bottles because he hadn’t located a store to buy more, yet.

Instead, he was one man with his favorite playlist and an itch in his muscles that he’d stretched but hadn’t sated.

“It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong,” He told himself a bit too loudly to the tropical overhang of trees on the awning of his porch. He told the cusp of his earbuds next as he shoved them into his ears, still staring hard at the open playlist on his phone screen.

“Fuck it.”

The curl of plump green leaves flicking against the roof of the house acted in accordance to the early morning breeze, one that brought gentle rains up off the sea and doused the concrete in a thin sheen a hue darker than normal but it wasn’t light enough yet to notice, anyway. Jimin turned his motions into more than mental productivity, twisting a cheap broom he’d found in a hall closet like some exotic mixture of a ballroom partner and a baton, cleaning away leaves and crumbs from the eggs he’d downed with a bent fork and the small puddles of water that had curled onto the edges where the awning didn’t protect.

His dance turned inside, a shadow against the one light he left on while his senses guided the rest, a delicate story told against the half open shutters lining the far side of his house, the one that faced his only neighbor. His playlist carried him through the narrative just as the pointed step of his trained art elicited feeling, one that had him smiling by the time he shrugged the thick strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder and all but skipped out onto the broken, cobblestone pathway to mount his bike.

The quiet neighbor watched from their own porch, a fond smile plastered on their lips as Jimin’s figure descended into the rising shadows of dawn, a tear tracking their cheek in some sort of nostalgic longing that roused a smile just as joyful in their sorrow as Jimin’s.

A debate on whether or not to play music through wire earbuds and dance to a beat that was most definitely not open for public gathering seemed silly when it had easily built itself into Jimin’s routine by the third day, never mind the seventh. He shuffled his playlist, a new crescendo carrying him down the length of the dock as he shimmied, stretched, polished his way into preparing the docks for the day ahead. His unsolicited crimes were hidden, boats gone like missing pieces of a Jenga puzzle that were never meant to fall by the time he repented his shift, striding back up the slowly busying dock with his phone and earbuds shoved in the depths of his shorts pocket.

Perhaps he’d pondered over the ridiculous thought that he’d be thrown out of the town for good for dancing on the front porch of the house he, by all intents and purposes, owned by means of a security deposit that drained the last of his funds for a half second too long, but he’d failed to escape up the coast line to his tiny waiting station before someone had creaked gentle footsteps in his peripheral.

Jimin jerked his headphones from his ears, leaving a searing pain in their wake but it was a soft giggle that soothed it, one that belonged to you where you stood a few yards away. The gold nameplate pinned over the embroidered logo of the boat service shop crinkled where your arms folded over your chest, one eyebrow cocked underneath the white visor perched on your forehead.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to arrest you,” You held up two hands as if to prove your point, the soft smile still there on your lips.

He visibly relaxed but continued in his quest to ball the wires in a massive tangle and shove them in the depths of his pocket. He added, anyway, “Sorry.”

“For what? Having fun while you work?” You brushed past him to your boat, “It’s something a few people around here could and should take notice of.”

It was an unspoken dismissal but Jimin froze in place anyway, watching as you climbed aboard, a different set of procedures following your own routine as you busied about the inside of the boat, a different set than he’d witnessed when you’d taken him and Hoseok out on his first week. Week two and he had no greater grasp on you, only after sharing fleeting glances throughout the workday from where he sat and barely moved on the unoccupied area of the beach.

“By the way—” You spoke right when Jimin moved to flee, freezing his muscles and he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, “—I’m sorry that I was so short with you the other night.”

He relaxed into a shrug, “S’alright.”

“It’s not something we, Hoseok or I...expect you to understand,” You seemed to ponder your own words, leaning against the railing of the boat, “After the...accident, the tourism went down drastically. The entire town nearly had to sellout. It was a really scary time.”

“I’m not saying the ‘rules’ aren’t stupid—” You shot him a look, “—because they are. Just...things are finally looking stable again. So it’s hard to want to...change that. I guess.”

“The annual town festival isn’t worth losing everything I have, you know,” You smiled, pushing yourself up off the railing, “Or...you know. Having a beer occasionally. Or having to get approval to have a DJ at weddings. Or literally anything fun.”

You laughed so Jimin laughed too, nodding simply to you. “Understood, it’s okay.”

There’s more to it that you’re not telling me.

“You’re not doing anything wrong, by the way. Dance all you want. Play your music out loud. Bring a radio, if you want—” You winked at you tossed a thick, pleated rope over your shoulder, “—I’ll cover for you if they send Namjoon down here.”

Jimin laughed again, dropping his chin this time. “Well, thank you—” He squinted into the quickly rising sun, “Although I’m not entirely sure they make radios anymore, so that might be a bit difficult to find but...I’m up for the challenge.”

“Perfect,” You hesitated in your step backward on the boat, “I’ll see you later then?”

Later meant on his front porch, knuckles jostling the loose screen door that laid gently over the entrance to the house, never latched just like the heavier inside door was never shut. You were bent at the waist, squinting through the netted black when Jimin slid around the corner of the hallway, frantic confusion turning to amusement when his presence startled you and you nearly dropped the plate held delicately in one hand.

“Hey neighbor,” You greeted, stepping back for him to push open the screen, “Brought a late housewarming gift.”

Jimin cocked an eyebrow, gentle in letting you transfer the plate from your grasp to his. A pile of homemade cookies, stacked in a neat, crumpled pyramid about each other. “Neighbor, huh?”

You gestured for the house, the only one. “Correct, that would be my house…”

“Ah. Why haven’t I seen you until now?”

“We have different schedules, new guy,” You softened when he shot you an apologetic look, “I got off early today. Chance of storms later.”

“You can call me Jimin, you know,” He twisted, placing the plate on the rickety end table plopped between two lawn chairs, faded and unraveled threads dangling sadly from underneath.

“New guy is more fun,” You perked up, taking a seat in one of the lawn chairs before he could offer, “Wait, I’ve got it. Ducky.”

His cheeks pinked as he took a seat adjacent from you, “...Jimin will be just fine.”

You nodded, fingertips plucking into the plastic wrap over the cookies to retrieve one of the crumpled halves. You plopped a sizable bite onto your tongue, lifting an eyebrow, “...alright, ducky.”

Jimin watched you munch down the cookie half, watched you hesitate into grabbing it’s forgotten twin and nibble half of it before he blurted, “Would you, uh…like to stay for dinner?”

You took your time in finishing off the cookie, lawn chair creaking the porch when you turned toward him, ludicrous expression plastered firm to your features, “Hey! That’s not fair. I came over here with treats, I should be cooking you dinner. A...town warming dinner. Is that a thing?”

“Too late, I already asked.”

“Fine,” Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself up off the chair, eyes closing as you held out your wrists, palms up, “Lead me to the food.”

He let you stand there until your eyes opened to regard his sheepish expression, leaning forward to press his elbows into his thighs, “...one problem. I have close to no food.”

“Oh, that’s all that’s wrong?” Your rigid stance relaxed, reaching out to grab his wrist to haul him up, “Come on. I mean...if you think you can keep up with me?”

Jimin didn’t scoff until you were more than a dozen yards ahead of him on a gentle incline, coasting while he was struggling to the rotation on the petals of his bike. “Where are you taking me?” He labored when the ground finally evened out, allowing himself to collapse onto the tiny seat underneath him.

“Farmer’s market,” You slowed to allow him to catch up, grinning at the slight sheen of sweat that had begun to form underneath black fringe, “You know. Fruits and vegetables.”

“Really? I thought it was entirely processed junk food.”

Jimin caught a glimpse of your eye roll before you were tired of humoring him, speeding off to the tune of his amused laughter.

It appeared to be closing time at the miniature farmer’s market, a tiny collection of tents set up on the far side of the coast. A lanky, brown haired man with a crumpled apron tied haphazardly across his front worked at folding up one of the card tables, one that appeared to have previously held woven baskets filled with various colored apples. Those baskets sat in the weird mixture of sand and grass that encompassed the ground farther up from the seaside while a tiny, fluffy dog wove in and out of them, periodically yipping upward at the man who talked back in an equal tone, as if having a casual conversation about the winds gradually picking up over the water.

“Tae!” You left your bike against a tree, jogging up to the startled man while Jimin, wobbling albeit, tried to control the tires of his bike as the terrain changed. He managed to hop off though, being intercepted by the tiny dog rather than you or the ever mysterious Tae.

“Tannie!” A rich baritone scolded yet held no real authoritative power. The dog seemed to think so as well, barely flinching at the call when Jimin crouched, stretching gentle fingers out for the dog to butt his head against.

“He’s alright,” Jimin soothed his owner quietly, scratching behind the boisterous Pomeranian's ears for a split second before a hand was thrust in the way. Jimin squinted at it, following the line of the exposed forearm up to the smiling eyes of the farmer, geometric smile pasted on the bottom half of his face as he nodded for his hand again.

“Taehyung.”

Jimin shook his hand once, letting the momentum carry him to a standing position that had his knees cracking in protest. “Jimin.”

“Ah, the new guy down at the dock—” Taehyung glanced at you when you snorted, “—you’re renting that empty vacation house of the town’s, right?”

Jimin couldn’t help but think of the nest of spiders he’d found in the bottom drawer of the century old dresser in his room on the second day. Vacation house.

Only then did he realize he was still gripping Taehyung’s hand, something he promptly dropped before coughing, “Uh. Yeah.”

“Neighbors then, huh?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow, fulling looking at you where you were preoccupied fishing through a container of tomatoes.

“He’s supposed to be cooking for me tonight,” You jabbed an accusing finger, tomato, in Jimin’s direction, playful smile still on your lips, “But he has not a singular vegetable in his possession.”

“He’s cooking for you?” Taehyung accused while you bagged a few tomatoes, moving on to the greenery scattered about, “Shouldn’t you be cooking him a housewarming meal? Or like...a town warming meal?”

“We’ve already had this discussion,” Jimin provided softly, “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

Taehyung just laughed, starting out with a hand clasping his shoulder before moving to wrapping his entire arm around Jimin, leaning into him while you continued to gather supplies. “So what’s your story?” He said finally, letting some of his weight off of Jimin.

Jimin shrugged, “Broke college student turned broke graduate decided to travel and ran out of money. Ended up here…”

“What’s your degree in?”

Jimin considered a plethora of things as a masterful lie. One that would avoid a variety of stems in which the conversation could go. He could say something in technology and avoid the useless degree lecture. He could say something in writing and avoid the there’s no dancing here lecture. He could tell the truth and gauge the reaction that was generally more favorable from those who were around his age but still lived in a town that outlawed virtually all organized events on the basis of an elusive ‘accident’.

Instinct made him answer quietly, “Dance. Contemporary mostly.”

An entire other limb, one that grew haphazardly from the trunk of the tree and threaded upward into a ridiculous, jagged shape, came from Taehyung’s mouth, not something that was even in the realm of what Jimin imagined.

“Oh!” Taehyung called your name quietly, clapping his hands together, “Another dancer! That’s what you wanted to do! Contemporary too—”

Jimin’s moment of elation died into a nauseating sickness when your stature had froze much like it had those handful of nights ago, the hand not holding onto a bag of produce reaching out to dig your fingernails deep into the plastic of the table.

When you turned around, Jimin tried gently, “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s because it’s in the past. Wanted, past tense,” You began tying a knot in the plastic bag in your grasp, frantic and jerky in your movements, “Not anymore.”

There was a similar sympathetic smile to Taehyung’s features as there had been one of stone on Hoseok’s, rolling his lips inward as his throat bobbed harshly. “Beautiful, nonetheless. I remember the showcases you used to put on down at the dock.”

“Muscles don’t quite move like that anymore,” You diverted this time with a tight lipped smile, one that didn’t even try to reach your eyes as you finished the knot, “How much do I owe you for this?”

Taehyung dropped it, squinting when the wind picked up in that moment, “You don’t owe me a thing if you help Tannie and I pack up before the storm rolls around.”

Jimin jumped into action to divert his thoughts away from the look you kept casting him, somewhere between regret, fear, and unadulterated sadness.

He’d brushed his teeth three times since you’d descended the rickety steps of his porch to trek the short distance through the drizzling rain to your house yet, somehow, there was still bits of the seasoning fermented in the honey colored salad dressing you’d dollaped en mass over freshly washed lettuce leaves. The tiny black flecks on their own were foul, spreading in the back of his molars where he’d dug one out with the natural lay of his tongue, one that made him stop with rag in hand to grossly spit onto the dock. He smudged it with his shoe, wrist wiping at his lips while the disgust mulling on his facial features lingered, momentary pause causing his conscious to squint up the dock, thoughts scattered into the prior evening.

So it was only fitting that you emerged in that moment, as if an apparition from the misted droplets clinging to the grasses on the shore.

“Ducky! Slacking off?”

Jimin’s first instinct was to scramble because well, kind of, and if his routine was lacking so where you’d already appeared, he was most definitely behind. He jerked a singular headphone out as a first precaution. But the dramaticized mist cleared to reveal your soft smile, chin tucked into the zipper of your jacket as you paused in front of him.

“Always,” He answered anyway, blackened taste of something burnt forgotten where it still festered underneath his tongue.

You scuffed your foot into the dock, balled fists shoving into your jacket pockets. “I had a good time last night, by the way,” Another pass of your foot, toe heel, “You’re not a half bad cook.”

“Thank you. I had a good time too…” It was Jimin’s turn to duck his head, eyeing the frayed threads on the rag he clutched in increasingly white knuckles. His fist didn’t clench because he was lying but rather the bubbling question resting on the tip of his tongue, one he’d suppressed since leaving Taehyung with all his produce neatly packed into the shaded back of his truck right as the rain began.

Kind of like media outlets who focus on one relatively small aspect of a much larger concept simply because it’s inherently negative. Jimin’s question was inherently negative, instead contextually negative based solely on the reaction you’d given Taehyung when he’d brought it up.

And evidently, Jimin was a shitty reporter.

“So you used to dance, huh?” He kept his tone soft, leaving infliction open for you to take. You could deny him. You could dismiss him. He really didn’t care if you ignored him. He just had to get it out. Quieter, he added, “I didn’t know that.”

You laughed, the opposite reaction that Jimin was preparing himself for, and he tracked your eyes as they swept over your feet. “You’d have no reason to know,” A sigh set your shoulders, allowing you to raise your gaze to his, “I quit not long after the...the accident.”

“It just seemed fitting you know,” You shrugged, arms lifting where your fists still sat deep in your pockets, “I mean you know what I’m talking about. Contemporary isn’t exactly the same thing elicited by a few beers and some fluorescent lights.”

Jimin laughed but stayed silent, nodding quietly for you to continue.

“I had a scholarship. To get out of here...that’s what I was going to do after the tourist season ended. But after everything that happened here, from the incident itself—” You swallowed, tilting your head back slightly, “—from that, to the media coverage that made the town nearly desolate, to going into the off season with far less profit than we normally garnered. It didn’t feel right to leave my town like that.”

“I understand,” Jimin murmured.

“No, you don’t,” You laughed again, just as genuine, “You probably think I’m an idiot.”

“Far from it,” He assured.

A lingering silence ensued, one that had you scuffing your opposite foot this time. “Well...that’s my sap story about why I don’t dance any longer, so…”

You trailed off when Jimin extended a hand in your direction. He wiggled his fingers when you gaped, free appendage working at yanking his headphones from his phone, attention focused to navigate to a different playlist while he regarding you with a lopsided smile and one quirked eyebrow.

It was something instrumental that filtered from his phone speakers, a piece he’d done for an assignment in college yet still had stored away in the depths of his music library. It was just eerie enough to curl into the fog that slowly began to lift over the sea, opening up to the heat of the day that began to rouse coastal wildlife into action, singing in crescendo over the melodies.

“You think you’ve still got it?”

It was the first instance that Jimin hadn’t seen you hesitate in the face of something that seemed to scare you, immediate in sliding your palm to his and squeezing.

“We’ll see I guess,” You taunted, gliding closer to him at the pull of his arm, a playful glint shining in dawned irises, “Won’t we?”

Jimin grinned as you began to move at the extent of his forearm, leg curling outward into a purposeful movement that elicited musicality he heard too in the rouse of the music curling outward from his phone in his pocket. You stayed connected until the last possible moment, falling at the contract of your muscles into a turned out squat, gliding in front of him and then straightening on the farthest side, arms connecting into the next movement as something trilled in the music.

It was the same sort of improvisation that carried the remainder of your movements, leaving Jimin in awe of the way your body curled into the melody only for half an eight count more before he was moving with you, twisting in such a way that made his foot slide from the slip on shoes curled on his heels but he took no mind, foot connecting at his knee, torso arching the opposite direction, following the dying crescendo of movement.

You connected your touch to him once more, curling two forearms over the flat of his back where he’d bent at the waist before trailing crawled fingertips up the expanse of his forearm, latching first to his wrist with a beat in the music and then taking his hand on another, harsher, beat. He tugged you closer at the contact, one hand gripping both your hands, the later sliding around your waist to press a stabilizing palm into the small of your back. The lull of your head came, falling away from the beat of the music as you rose to look at him, not quite a smile but bliss nonetheless plastered to the part of your mouth.

Jimin smiled, though.

He deposited one of your hands onto the round of his shoulder, keeping his tight grip on the later as he began to move you in gentle circles to whatever the next song on his playlist was, something slow and with words that he vaguely recognized from popular radio play a few years prior.

“I think you’ve still got it,” Jimin softly encouraged when a laugh caused your gaze to fall away from him, forehead nearly pressing into his shoulder as you gripped harder to his hand.

“Eh,” He saw you smile no matter how you tried to hide it, “You’re not a half bad partner, ducky.”

There were footsteps on the dock in the next moment, ones that overpowered the music Jimin had reached to turn down in his pocket, music he now rushed to silence. Instinctively, he held you closer, squinting up the wood path. The footsteps were simultaneously too loud and too quiet to be Hoseok. They were too purposeful as well, slapping and consistent with the sound of flip flops as it grew closer until Jimin finally froze at the familiar face approaching at a ridiculous pace.

You glanced up from Jimin’s shoulder when there was a tripping sound, the front of Namjoon’s flip flop catching on a protruding wood board but it didn’t stall his advancements by much, pausing a safe distance in front of you with two hands perched on his hips.

Namjoon was struggling to find the words for you, attention darting to you where he scuffed the tattered sole of his canvas shoes into the wood, one curled fist in his pocket and then back out, as if he weren’t even aware of Jimin’s presence. Hesitant leg movements brought him a few steps closer, before he said lowly, “You should probably get to work.”

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” You countered, making no movement to budge from Jimin’s hold.

The older man held up two hands, taking an equal step back, “I didn’t say you were, love—”

“Then why did they send you down here?”

Namjoon stared hard now from underneath the cap of the white hat shoved onto messy black tendrils. His free hand joined the latter in the depths of his short pockets, rocking back onto his heels and Jimin could spy the surface of his tongue searching the tops of his molars for a response.

“They didn’t,” He said finally, carefully, like he’d plucked the obvious lie like a piece of corn from between his teeth.

“Joon,” You pushed yourself from Jimin, taking two steps in front of him and he couldn’t see your face any longer but your voice grew softer instead, “You—”

“Please, just...separate. They’ll come down here if you don’t and it’s almost opening time,” Namjoon looked frightened now, a far cry from the assured monologue that had informed Jimin of the basics on the steps of his front porch.

You didn’t turn until Namjoon’s flip flops clacked safely off the deck into the sand pathway, solemn smile not quite meeting your eyes as you shrugged.

“Guess party time is over.”

Jimin watched as you almost robotically moved for the boat, your boat, one foot bobbing in the sea when he called with clenched fists, “Who’s they?”

There was a lack of filter in your voice, blunt as you snorted, “The town officials—” You hoisted yourself fully into the boat, speaking to your work rather than to him, “—the ones who created this whole mess.”

“...they’re watching us?”

You pointed haphazardly over your shoulder, shrugging as you began to curl a rope from out of the water, “Town hall building is up the shore—” A heave in your voice as you dragged the rest of the damp twine into a messy pile underneath your knees, “—you know, so they can watch their biggest source of income fail day in and day out.”

“Or they were just tired of seeing me move around like a dead fish,” You tried to lighten the mood when you turned to him, an easy smile on your lips, “...no one’s seen me do that in years so...it doesn’t surprise me that they got worried.”

Jimin stifled his worried about what? when you waved. “See you later?”

The man just nodded, watching as your smile grew fainter.

“...see you.”

The incident with Namjoon lingered somewhere just on the inside of Jimin’s conscious the longer his work continued through the season, partially because of it’s implications, mostly because of your blunt yet empty words, words he didn’t quite have a grasp on. It was a topic everyone quite literally danced around, draping the unaware stranger like Jimin in a darkness that mirrored that coating the entire town. It was your lipped their biggest source of income that resonated the highest and the easiest with Jimin’s spinning conscious, something he acknowledged yet came to see as fact the longer he stationed himself on the shore throughout the day.

Business was seemingly non existent, your boat trips, specifically designed to take tourists on extensive, historical journeys of the beautiful seasides, full but few and far between from the schedule of potential times hung from the front boat house; Hoseok’s boat trips, designed for fishing, to find the best pockets where men in cheap sun hats purchased from Taehyung’s day time flea market style stalls could take one coveted picture with a giant bass before eventually letting the creature free, barely making the cut to plausibly allow the boat to pull away from its tether.

It was as though all the money went into paying the metaphorical security cameras, the lavish town building up the shore coated in a fine layer of fresh stone, paying the salary of the camera lens’ themselves, the three men Jimin had only garnered fleeting glimpses of as black blurs crossing to and from a small parking lot just outside the grey, hazed building.

Because there certainly weren’t literal security cameras. There were barely rags for Jimin to use to clean that wouldn’t get the surfaces dirtier than they had been before touched by dirty soaked cloth. Maintenance arose daily, a piling list that the contractor repair man, Jeongguk, a lanky, tattooed twenty something fresh from trade school who was rarely seen with a shirt on, could barely handle. This left for various boats out of commission on the worst days, weekends and the dead center of the week when business seemed to grow the highest, when they could justify filling all the time slots and taking out the half dozen fleet of boats at the same time. Turning away the business they so desperately needed because the lack of funding otherwise to maintain what little resources they did have.

Jimin confronted Hoseok about the issue one day while lounging on the shore, Hoseok’s very presence a product of the neverending cycle of a dying industry in the dead center of the day on a Sunday, generally one of their busiest days now desolate with the whir of your engine in the distance the only source of light in the shrinking wallet available to the business.

“It’s been like this for a few years,” Hoseok shrugged, red hair splayed into the grassy patch they sat upon. His eyes fluttered shut, folded hands coming to rest across his forehead, “It’s not as bad as it seems from an outside perspective. We...make ends meet. But nothing more and we can’t afford anything less so…”

“Has anyone proposed an alternate business model?” Jimin cringed when Hoseok’s eyebrow cocked over where his hands shielded his face, “I just mean like...if this isn’t working, why not try something else?”

Hoseok groaned as he moved to sit up, links in his spine audibly cracking as he arched over knees bent in towards his chest. “We know what works,” He said finally, “They know what works.”

“What’s that?”

Hoseok smiled at Jimin from underneath his arm, “Lift the stupid dance ban.”

“Oh—”

The red haired man shook his head, uncurling from himself to correct his posture, arms straight behind him, knees stretching out into the grass, “Let me explain…”

“That was the appeal of our little town. Not the boats and some cool pictures of sea bass. There used to be a thriving festival business. We had a pamphlet made especially for the town, one that detailed all the weekends in which various themed things would be happening down at the shore. People who pay us to use our coastline, basically.”

Hoseok shrugged, “Now no one wants to pay us except like...the elderly to have their fifty year class reunions. And even then, they don’t want to fuck with our policies—” He flattened two dark eyebrows, “—do you know how many restrictions there are for what music can be played out loud in a public setting? At any public gathering? Too many. A whole book too many.”

Jimin started slow, a thought that formulated the same way in the forefront of his conscious and it didn’t pass through any filters as it crawled off his tongue.

“...so why don’t we...throw our own festival?”

Silence.

And then Hoseok laughed, cackled really, returning to his splayed out position on the grass with his limbs starfished outward so far his hair nudged into Jimin’s thigh. The younger watched quietly, letting the implications of his own suggestion soak in and he briefly thought to glance over his shoulder for some sort of microphone attached to the bee buzzing to a pretty pink wildflower vining upward from the loose sand granules.

Hoseok came to, straightened again next to Jimin and he nudged his side with his elbow, nodding simply.

“Okay.”

Jimin started to sputter out an apology, one on a knotted tongue, the words equally tangled in his throat when he was whipping toward the smiling man next to him. His eyebrows met in a single line at the bridge of his nose, unconsciously leaning closer to Hoseok.

“Wait, what? What do you mean okay?”

The older man nudged Jimin again with one curt nod of his chin, “I mean...okay. Let’s do it.”

Jimin blinked, once, twice, four times in the dying silence of Hoseok’s giggles before he admitted quietly, “I didn’t think I’d get this far, honestly—”

“Listen, kid,” Hoseok slung a heavy arm across Jimin’s shoulders, tugging on the smaller man until he was curled against his side, “I don’t know what it is about you...but I like your enthusiasm. And your idea, of course.”

He glanced up from where he’d ducked into Hoseok’s shoulder, cocking an eyebrow, “...so you’re saying?”

Hoseok beamed again, an infectious giggle falling from his lips as he happily clapped at Jimin’s shoulder for a passing moment before springing to a standing position, presenting his palm for Jimin to take. He waited until Jimin had joined him on his feet, lowering his voice a half octave as he brought Jimin in by clasped fists between their chests.

“I’m saying, let’s plan a damn festival.”

Jimin expected Hoseok to take off at a dead sprint up the shore like any other cliche romantic comedy would, hurdling them into a montage of planning that involved highlighter marks etched into the pores of their skin and mountains of rejected flyer options with a dying laptop battery mocking the open document of logistics information, where, when, how the festival would occur.

Instead, Hoseok stood still, eyes frozen on something in the distance and again Jimin jerked to look for a bee and his high tech audio visual equipment when Hoseok provided in a thick monotone.

“One issue.”

Jimin with the bee in mind quipped, “I think there will be a little bit more than one issue but that’s fine, that’s...common knowledge—”

“No, like,” Hoseok’s lips formed a sheepish shape, “With me.”

An endless whir of possibilities stirred so much so that Jimin couldn’t consciously pluck out a few tangible options but among that strangled mess, Jimin certainly didn’t expect Hoseok to utter hoarsely, “I can’t dance.”

“I’m sorry you…” Jimin tried not to show amusement on his features, “You what?”

“I can’t dance.”

“Everyone can dance.”

“No, they can’t. Because I can’t.”

The chaotic scene came later, the montage Jimin had envisioned as the grooves of a DVD shoved into the ancient player tucked away in the closet of his newly acquired home. Hoseok’s arms were colored in at least four different colors of highlighter, hair frayed at the edges of the headband wrapped haphazardly on the high rise of his forehead. Jimin had nearly broke his toe twice in his quest to hurdle a dining room chair to plug in his dying laptop as the spreadsheet he’d worked so meticulously to format hung in the balance of the singular electrical outlet at the far end of the dining room.

They had a date. They had a venue. They had a backup venue. They had a caterer. They had a playlist. They had a playlist that would survive policy inspection, if need be. They had a mock flyer.

They didn’t have a confident Hoseok.

“I don’t know,” He huffed finally, fingers stalling on his laptop keys as he studied Jimin from over the lid, “...will anyone even come? Like, on the off chance that we do get this approved—”

Jimin knew the answer was an ardent no, but he teased nonetheless, “Is this because you think you can’t dance?”

“I know, I can’t dance. That’s beside the point—”

The hollow floorboards underneath the peeling linoleum of Jimin’s kitchen floor croaked in protest when he shoved his chair back, rounding the table to collect Hoseok’s wrist and drag him with him out the front door.

“Where are we going?” Hoseok complained at the extension of Jimin’s digits curled into his skin.

Jimin didn’t answer as he dragged Hoseok up your porch steps and rapped on the loose dangle of your screen door. He waited until you half emerged from the wood door you pulled back, palm on the screen door and clearly confused as he stated, “Hoseok thinks he can’t dance.”

You tried to fight the smile that curled onto each corner of your mouth, addressing your friend first, “You can dance. Everyone can dance—” and then to Jimin’s triumphantly beaming figure, “Why would he need to know how to dance?”

“We’re planning a festival,” Jimin said absently, a grin morphing higher on his features when your expression flattened into slightly horrified confusion.

“You’re what—”

“Oh yeah,” Hoseok stepped up to be shoulder to shoulder with Jimin, squishing his presence into the tiny door frame, “Do you want to help?”

“I have no idea what’s fucking happening,” You blurted finally, lips fished, pupils dilated to the ambiant starlight that curled over the figures stationed in your doorway.

Jimin’s smile turned sympathetic, a gentle hand on your waist guiding you safely away from the rustic contraption of doors at the front of your house. There was a catch in your breath for two reasons, allowing Jimin to lead you to the swing dangling off pillars screwed to the deck. You sat first, a series of concerning creaks following as Jimin took a seat next to you, Hoseok situating himself delicately to the railing circumventing your porch.

“We’re going to try to revive the town,” Jimin started, simply albeit daunting in that stripped down sense.

You blinked, realistic, to some sort of nocturnal worm that had weazled it’s way between the floorboards, “Just the two of you, huh ducky?”

“And you!”

“It’s got to start somewhere,” Jimin curbed Hoseok’s enthusiasm with a gentle palm on your shoulder.

More blinking. A threat of that shriveled up rigidity to your stature that Jimin loathed like the bile that curled onto the back of his tongue. And then it relaxed all at once, like a daunting wave that suddenly cut under itself, the current nothing but a gentle lap over some vague footprints in the sand.

“...so who’s going to cater this thing?” It was a gradual build up in the rise of your cheeks but it was there, shining in Jimin’s direction once it had fully developed and he was unconscious of Hoseok’s happy hollering as his own smile began to stretch across his features.

“We were thinking Taehyung,” Jimin said again in favor of Hoseok who was still violently fist pumping from his perch, “Unless you have another suggestion?”

You shifted, chin plopping onto a palm where fingers curled upward into your chin. The digits patted your lips for a few passing moments before you nodded, muffled a bit by your hand, “Taehyung and maybe one of the restaurants up the coast would be willing to provide. So that their affiliation isn’t biased, you know.”

There was a light ambiance that followed, a continuation of the chatter that had taken place across the lively chaos cluttering Jimin’s rickety kitchen table until Hoseok, silent for the vast majority of the conversation, shifted on the railing enough for a groaning creak that drew two attentions to it.

“We’re forgetting one thing,” The red haired man beamed into the insinuation he knew was going to earn him grief, “I still can’t dance. And what’s a festival organizer who can’t dance? Useless—”

The movement of the swing underneath his toes barely perched on the ground startled Jimin but it was your hand in his that had the air escaping from between his parted lips. He was useless, limp in letting you drag him up as you collected Hoseok in a similar fashion, fingers wrapped around his wrist as your drug the two men down the porch steps.

Your houses resided on the up most part of the main road, leaving the nature beyond virtually untouched to human editing aside from a few decorative flower pots curled outward from a concrete slab out your back door and a singular ceramic frog chipped at it’s right eye that Jimin had found in his own garden. Your, loose term, backyard, was much larger in comparison to his simply because the clearing was larger, more space between curved trunks of tropical trees and centuries old stands by older oaks and maples. The grass was uncut by a few passing weeks, short enough to wade through, long enough to tickle ankles, dotted in various shades of wildflowers that hadn’t been cut by sharp metal blades of machinery. Rounded petals seemed to glow in the crescent moonlight that shaded through the expanse spaces left by soft, flicking leaves.

One white flower glowing a pale blue unintentionally squished under the sole of Jimin’s shoe, resilient in the way it sprung back to half of what it’s stem height had previously been. Jimin couldn’t say the same for the way his conscious was able to recover to the feeling of your hand in his palm to the pointed grip of your fingers at his waist, situating him to a similar position you’d been in all those weeks ago in the fog of the morning dock.

“Dancing is easy,” You were chattering but Jimin was too focused on the color lens that coated the yellow flower itching into the bone at his ankle and how it cast across the adorable determination on your features. The very thing that had him in a trance, your touch, was what broke him out of it, grip jerking him closer so that he was forced to curl a stabilizing hand around the small of your back.

“See,” You continued, dragging Jimin messily to the side and he recovered enough to correct his stumbled step, “Watch us.”

He allowed you to lead, entertaining the newborn deer act for a few moments, purposeful in squishing your toes in one instance and in flopping his stature around in a dramatic circle to prevent you from dipping him. When you were laughing, giggling to the stars that reflected on the scattered petals below your feet, he took miniscule steps to regain your faux control, tensing his muscles, holding you tighter, swinging you to the soundtrack of grasshopper titters.

“Yeah,” Hoseok narrated dryly when Jimin spun you in a series of particularly dizzying circles, stopping only when you collapsed against his chest from fatigue, “Looks extremely simple.”

You exchanged a glance with Jimin, one that made his heart stop to swell within the cavity of his chest underneath your palms placed at the very spot and it was more than the cool evening breeze that made him shiver when you stepped away to offer your hand to Hoseok.

It was a process to get Hoseok to fall in step with a simple slow dance guided by the music off Jimin’s phone tossed carelessly in the grass, squashing your toes and earning playful yelps as you adjusted his position. You beamed at Jimin in each instance, joy directed at the amused man who stood a few feet off with his eyebrows raised and arms folded to his chest.

Hoseok managed to shuffle in consecutive eight counts without breaking one of your smallest appendages with the clumpy sole of his tennis shoes, going as far to attempt a dip that nearly had you crashing backward into the wildflowers, one that had Jimin rushing forward to try to brace you while your laughter just let you carry your slow descent to the grass, two amused men curled over you.

The lesson shifted to basic steps, a jazz square (“Jazz hands?” Hoseok had peered hopefully, long fingers elongated outward as they shook slightly), simple hip rolls which he proved to be quite, in your words, lethal at. He took a liking to a viral dance craze Jimin had the misfortune of seeing on the internet a few times, combining that rigid hip swivel with equally rigid arms, moving back and forth at a speed that had Hoseok exclaiming, “Hey! This is great!”

“Maybe that’s your signature move,” You teased, bumping shoulders with Jimin.

“Really?” Hoseok sped up the movement, red hair bouncing over his eyelashes as he glanced toward Jimin, “What’s yours?”

Jimin tried to stay neutral in tone, “Not the floss—”

He adapted something called the shoot too, something that carried his descent down the dock one morning while Jimin just grinned and prepared music in the muffled confinement of his pocket, letting Hoseok wiggle around him until you appeared, stealing Jimin’s towel and smacking Hoseok’s ass with it, ordering both of you to get to work.

Jimin lent him a spare pair of earbuds, logging him into his Spotify account so that he could navigate through Jimin’s meticulously put together playlists, something that proved to be quite distracting when there were three figures huddled in the dim light of Jimin’s dining room and Hoseok didn’t hear each of your called inquiries until at least the fourth time, too preoccupied with a shimmy neither you nor Jimin had taught him while he mouthed along to the song, notebook pressed to his nose.

“I want to show you something—” proceeded the encapsulation of Jimin’s knee caps with Hoseok’s hands, pulling back with a full featured grin as some vaguely familiar tune began to blare down the otherwise serene coast line. Jimin watched as his older friend added arm movements to his hip swivels, a little bit of unintentional chest too, but most importantly a smile as he executed choreography he’d came up with himself.

He stopped short of the entire routine when they’d spotted Namjoon’s bike descending the trail, instead presenting it to you and Jimin behind the curtains of your living room.

Final nights of preparation came with less anxious staring at completed outlines, typed documents, laminated folder fronts, but more dancing, silly twirls of Jimin’s hands on your waist as your bare feet sank into the couch cushions, Hoseok declaring the coffee table as his stage to show off his increasing footwork skills (watch this turn!), not so technical reviews of desired playlists, or in other words, the ones that most definitely wouldn’t pass through the town council meeting.

“Will any of this pass, you think?”

It was a grossly simplistic way of expressing the worry that stirred in the pits of your stomachs but spoken calmly to Jimin one evening after Hoseok had gone home, leaving your knees curled towards Jimin’s figure on your couch.

“I have no idea,” He tried to smile, a soft encouragement as he shifted toward you, thighs bumping your knees, “You know them better than I do. I’m just the new guy…”

“You’re pretty intuitive, ducky,” You patted his thigh, “Don’t bullshit me. What do you think?”

“I think they’ll say no,” Jimin sucked the end of his tongue between his teeth, afraid his answer was too quick until you laughed, hand still on his leg as you leaned closer.

You didn’t speak until your cheek had subconsciously shifted to his arm, glancing up at him through smiling eyelashes that expressed so much more, just as your expressions always seemed to contradict themselves. You were an open book, intuition told Jimin, and he smiled back in hopes it would amend the sad red lingering around the iris ring.

“Me too,” You looked away from him, one leg stretching out to nudge a particularly battered piece of notebook paper, scrawled over in Hoseok’s messy handwriting and Jimin’s incessant color coding, “I don’t want to get my hopes up it’s just...been so long—”

Jimin shifted to accommodate your figure better, tentative in the hand that slid around the small of your back and when you didn’t react, he cupped your far hip, squeezing your curled figure against his side.

“—it’s been so long since I’ve felt this kind of joy at the prospect of anything,” Your fingertips were just as hesitant in touching his stomach, gradual in expanding to lay your palm just underneath his ribs, “I...I don’t want this feeling to go away.”

He bypassed the urge to kiss your forehead by nudging his nose into your hairline, squeezing you a bit tighter. “There are only two options to what they can say, you know,” When you let out a shuddering sigh, he continued, “Yes or no.”

“Fifty fifty shot,” You muffled from below him.

“Exactly. Worst case scenario, they say no. We ask what we can do, if anything, to alter our plans. We regroup, and try again at the next meeting,” Jimin swallowed, “Best case scenario...they say yes and we’ll throw the best damn party this town has ever seen.”

There was a prolonged silence between your mumbles of acknowledgement, paired with the slump and lull of your stature further into Jimin. “You’re right…” You slurred last, cute in the stars that shined in Jimin’s eyes. He struggled not to jostle you, snatching a quilted throw blanket from where it was neatly folded over the back of your paisley upholstery.

He curled the blanket around your stature, gentle in dragging pillows around you to gently pry himself off of you, laying you into the tiny fort he’d constructed on your couch. He blew out the years old birthday cake scented candle on one of your end tables, flicked off the stereo system in the corner, turned out all the lights aside from the one in the threshold. A last pass by your dozing figure, adjusting the blankets until your slumbering state curled the ends into fists near your face.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Jimin soothed, palm curling down the back of your head to your shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Your response was muffled but his heart heard it loud and clear.

“Goodnight, ducky.”

Jimin didn’t realize the crushing weight of your fingers curled around his, knuckles anemic, pressure borderline painful, until he let out a breath when the stocky man at the head of the front podium glanced up. His thumb did gentle work at soothing over the back of your knuckles, releasing some of the tension as you let out a similar breath, gaze set forward on the mayor, a stark black nameplate with gold engraving advertising Moon Jaejin, head of council.

“A festival, huh?” He spoke lowly but the quirk in his eyebrow suggested he was speaking to an elementary student. Condescending.

Your mouth parted but nothing came out, Hoseok’s admission from the other side of you affirming, “Yes, sir. A sort of revival of the seasons end festival that we...used to have.”

Namjoon shifted from his position two chairs down, uncomfortable. The mayor drew out his rhetoric this time, “You’ve spent quite the time planning this, haven’t you?” He glanced up from the purple folder Jimin had meticulously fretted over the entire morning, “In secret, I presume?”

“We’re presenting it to you now,” Jimin challenged, letting you curl a death grip on his fingers this time, “Aren’t we?”

More of the council members shifted this time. One cleared his throat. Moon laughed.

“Ah, so it was your idea then, young man?”

Jimin set his shoulders, “It was. I’d like to continue having a job here, and by the way the season is wrapping up, it’s seeing to it that none of us down at the dock will be employed by next year.”

Nervous tittering. Nail marks crescented into his palm as you shifted forward, crouching over your knees.

“Quite the radical claim for a newcomer,” He seemed to take pride in the way he crumpled the front of the folder as he placed it to the table, effectively crumpling the cover Hoseok had spent hours editing. “Our economy here is doing just fine, particularly after—”

“For you.”

You spoke now, chin lifting as you still hunched into yourself.

“What was that—”

“I said,” You straightened now, letting go of Jimin’s hand to flatten a clammy palm over your thigh, “That for you, the economy is doing just fine. We’re all aware, with the new pool you just had installed.”

Moon lifted his chin higher, a challenge, “What are you suggesting, dear?”

“You must have some idea. You wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

There was another uncomfortable pause in the exchange, silence filled with the ruffling of papers, Namjoon’s pointed cough into the crook of his elbow, Hoseok’s fingernails clacking against the chair he sat in. And for the careful consideration the mayor took of his words, it seemed that they were in preparation to grab his nearest dagger just to slice it through your heart.

“You, dear, of everyone should be resentful of this idea,” He smiled as he lounged into his chair, “What would your late boyfriend think of you suggesting this, hmm? Reimplementing the various vices that led to his death.”

This silence was frightening, devoid of white noise aside from Hoseok moving for you, wide eyes curled like wallpaper around the perimeter of the meeting room and it seemed to drop an octave lower when you stood, shrugging out of Hoseok who reached for you.

“You won’t even say his name,” You quipped and the sentence relayed over again, far less confident before, wavering into something higher pitched and painful, “You won’t even say his name and yet you continue to sensationalize the tragedy to further build the mountain you’ve created for yourself over the rest of us.”

“So continue to run this town into nothing if you want. Once we’re all gone, you’ll be nothing too,” A bitter smile twitched onto your lips, one now coated in a fine layer of tears that tracked in haphazard directions down the surface of your cheeks, “but don’t you dare continue to do it in Yoongi’s name.”

Jimin found himself frozen, numb to the call of your name from Hoseok that you’d ignored, needles pining their way into the clenched nature of his muscles, faced with a shade of grave he’d never imagined to see Hoseok wearing, something that rimmed red around his eyelids too and he blinked away from Jimin’s starkly different gaze to touch the back of his wrist at his eye.

“Gentlemen—”

A silent exchange, a question, who was going to go after you, and when Hoseok didn’t move quick enough, Jimin forced the static and stars from his eyes to flee from the building.

Polished dress shoes unpacked specifically for the occasion became scuffed in a fine layer of dust as he took the winding path at elongated strides until he essentially broke into a run. Darkness didn’t help his any of his already jumbled senses but instinct carried him to the one place he did know, dust curling into the moisture clinging to the wood from the remnants of dusk as the moon began to sigh quietly over the water.

He heard you before he saw you, a horribly muffled sobbing noise deep within the recesses of that tiny boat at the end of the dock. He barely used the ropes and ladders designed for the very thing, uncaring with how the boat rocked with the force in which he propelled himself inside.

You were curled into the seat at the front, a jacket held around your shoulders with a harsh fist while your latter hand was firmly clasped over your nose and lips. Jimin took his trek to you gently compared to his frantic rush from the meeting hall, toeing over each of the bench seats until he made it to the front row, balancing gently on the edge of the tattered and splintered wood.

The ambiance of crashing waves spurred by the sighing moon continued over the sound of your sobs and Jimin’s bated breathing for a dozen or so heartbeats, your raw tone cutting into the sound of receding water away from the shore.

“You didn’t have to come after me, ducky.”

Jimin shared a look with your eyes that cut to the side, trying to smile on one side of his face. “If I didn’t come, Hoseok was going to.”

“Hmm,” You sniffled, straightening a bit to drag the jacket sleeve underneath your nose, “Only one of you doesn’t understand that mess back there, though.”

“You don’t have to tell me—”

“I should have told you a long time ago,” You shrugged, “I’m just as bad as them, if you think about it.”

Jimin’s eyes rolled so far back they could have touched some of the glittering stars in the dark night, “Don’t ever compare yourself to them.”

“I don’t talk about it because it’s hard. They talk only about it because it benefits their stupid—” An unwarranted sob cut you off, ripping your spine forward to cup your palm over your mouth and Jimin surged forward this time, moving closer on his knees to rub at your shoulders.

His soft touches curled own your spine, fingertips brushing soft patterns into the small of your back until the tremors in your shoulders subsided, allowing you to rub at your nose again. He waited until you were looking at him, cry ridden eyes reflecting the angry curl of water around the collection of boats that sat idle in the darkness. Then you smiled, pitiful but there as a short, single syllable laugh escaped, dropping your gaze again.

“I’m a mess.”

Jimin shook his head, fingertips never ceasing. His chin dropped searching for your gaze until you managed to maintain it for a few passing, deep breaths. Then, gently, he encouraged, “Tell me about Yoongi.”

You froze but unlike previously, you began to speak almost immediately, rigid into the genuinely joyful laughter that followed. “He was everything good in the world. Seriously,” Another laugh, one that punctuated the pick of your finger into your nail bed, “Like...litters of puppies and sweet vanilla candles and fresh baked cookies. But...as a person.”

“We had been dating for three years. We were going to get out of here. Same university. Dance for me, music for Yoongi,” You laughed again, making eye contact with him now, “Dancing wasn’t really his thing. He could do it, he was great at it but he preferred the music thing. Which worked perfectly, if you think about it.”

“We were going to leave after the season ended. Work one last summer just to save up a little extra,” Jimin saw the tears well before you scrunched your eyes shut, “Wish I would have just listened to him and left early.”

A moment to collect yourself. “Anyway, it was a great season for us. Yoongi had just gotten his hands on one of the newer boats. Believe it or not, we used to have nice tourist yachts that were equipped to travel miles down the coast. A whole fleet of them,” You affectionately plucked at the worn leather you sat on, “This was his old boat.”

“He had a particularly rowdy group one evening. Not anything out of the ordinary, definitely not something him and the staff on board couldn’t handle but a distraction when there was a horrible storm approaching,” You sucked in a breath, chest expanding where Jimin’s fingers had traveled back up, still rubbing soft patterns into your jacket, “You can...uhm. You can imagine what happened…”

“They blamed it on the party that was happening on the boat. Said that if we just took people on boat rides for an hour or so, none of that would have ever happened. That the dancing and the alcohol and the atmosphere cultivated here in our little town was to blame. He wouldn’t have been as distracted without all of it and he certainly wouldn’t have been out that late...”

“Press got ahold of the story, took things out of context, didn’t have all the information. The town became deserted for more reasons than just the ridiculous executive order the mayor signed the night of Yoongi’s funeral—” You grit your teeth, “—like he deserved some sort of reward while Yoongi was—”

Jimin wrapped an arm around you then, tugging until you placed your cheek on his shoulder. His knees burned but nothing like the pelt of his heart against his ribcage.

“That’s why I couldn’t leave. It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right. I didn’t want to listen to music. I didn’t want to dance. I didn’t want to look at the dock. I just wanted my Yoongi back…”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

His hand now rubbed up and down your arm, giving into the urge to press his lips against your hairline, letting softer sobs emit out of you now until the pass of his fingers to the jacket still clutched to your person was in time with your attempt at controlling your breathing.

“I think you would have been friends,” You said suddenly, tears shining when you peeled your cheek off his shoulder to look up at him, “...and I’m really glad you came here.”

Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed, but you cut him off with a gentle finger to his lips. “I’m really glad you’re here for a lot of reasons, but that specifically. Hoseok’s my friend but Yoongi was his best friend,” You smiled sadly, “He’s just been kind of lost for a while. It’s...refreshing to see him like this again. A little bit of me feels normal seeing Hoseok be normal.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I’m still going to,” Your fingertip traced from his plump bottom lip to follow the line of his flushed cheekbone, “Thank you, ducky.”

“If anything, you’ve made the whole town think again. No one has played music out loud from their front porch in years. No one has danced on the dock in years,” You blinked suddenly, “But like fuck them. You’ve made me realize a lot too.”

“Stupid little things, like bike riding is fun and viral dance trends are cheesy but most importantly—” You inhaled through your nose, “—Yoongi would fucking hate everything about what they’ve done to our town.”

“You know what he’d love, though?”

Jimin shook his head, gentle in holding your waist.

You grinned, genuine through the tears that wreaked havoc on your features as you cupped both Jimin’s cheeks, jacket slumping off your shoulders a bit as you nodded once, a curt pout on your lips.

“A secret festival that oozes in...how would he put this,” A loud laugh, a sound Jimin hadn’t earned the pleasure of hearing before, “fuck the system.”

“Taehyung!”

The farmer nearly dropped the neat pyramid of tomatoes curled into his chest when you hissed his name at an elevated whisper, high steps picking your way up to one of his tents. He deposited the tomatoes first, an ungraceful roll of the produce into a nearby bin before he braced his hands on the card table, leaning over it to repeat in the exact same whisper scream, “What?”

You stripped one lapel of your jacket back to snatch a stack of the paperclipped, neatly cut flyers. One glance over your right shoulder, a prolonged glance over your left, and then you were shoving the stack of papers to Taehyung. “Take these.”

Jimin approached then, gentle in the index finger he prodded against the side of your head. “Subtle.”

Taehyung began speaking as you whipped around to glare at Jimin, “Oh? I thought this wasn’t happening—”

“It’s not supposed to.” “You can’t tell anyone,” You added, “Just...add these into bags of tourists. And the occasional trustworthy local, I guess. Just not Namjoon. Obviously.”

He pocketed the flyers into the front pouch of his forest green apron, hidden from view. “So...then this means you’ll need my catering?”

“You’re invited as a guest first. If you’d like to take a night off and come party with us, we’ll find something us. We already had a few ideas—”

“Who says I can’t serve food and party?” Taehyung beamed, lips all geometric edges as he cupped his hands over his lips, “I’ll be there. And your secret is safe with me.”

The look the broad man that stood before Jimin cast made his joints freeze in his pocket, name tag not blurred by the yellow lensed glasses perched on the edge of Jimin’s nose as he began to stutter over nothing in particular.

Seokjin.

“Uhh…”

“Forgive my friend,” You touched Jimin’s elbow, reaching past him to snag the stack of flyers out of his jacket to slap them down on the counter. Jimin warily regarded the reaction, watching at Seokjin’s eyes traveled down to where your palm still covered the majority of the cover art.

“We need a favor,” Hoseok added from Jimin’s opposite side, unabashed in slinging an arm over his shoulders. “Can you help us out, Jinnie?”

Seokjin’s expression remained stoic for a fraction longer before he was breaking into a series of wheezing giggles, bending at the waist to make his tie escape from his suit jacket and dangle to the floor below. He came to seconds later, holding a hand in Jimin’s direction.

“Of course, Hobi,” He beamed once Jimin deemed it safe to accept the handshake, giving one firm squeeze, “What can I do for you guys?”

“Can you hand these out to your guests?”

The suit clad man’s lips pursed into bloomed tulip as he fiddled with the clip on the stack, lifting one paper up to his eyes to squint at the font. Realization hit after a second and he nodded, “Oh? So we are having the festival?”

“Secretly,” You nudged the flyers a little bit until Seokjin got the hint and peeled them off the top part of the hotel counter to place them down near his desktop computer, “We want you to hand these out to guests.”

“Of course,” Another bellowing laughter, full of sweet eye crescents and a gentle shape to his mouth, “...I can’t give one to Mayor Moon, right?”

Hoseok moved to snatch the flyers back when Seokjin swatted at his hand, shaking his head with that same smile on his features, “I’m joking, I’m joking. I can even give you access to our valet services here, if you like. To get people down the shore, you know...”

“This is ridiculous,” Hoseok grunted when you placed two hands on his shoulder blades and pushed, “They’re going to catch us. The whole thing is going to be ruined!”

You sighed, glancing at Jimin, “Think you can self teach yourself to drive a boat in five minutes?”

He beamed, “I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Hobi,” You rolled onto your toes, squishing his cheeks between your thumb and index fingers until his panicked ramblings ceased, “They’re all out of town until the morning. Namjoon is with them. No one’s going to notice. We’re only taking two boats. We’ll move the rest around so it looks like nothing is missing.”

“Will that work?”

“You spent hours photoshopping a party hat onto a boat,” You tweaked the pliable skin of his cheeks once more, “Do you really want to go back on the boat rides promised on the flyer?”

Miserable, Hoseok moaned, “No.”

“Good. Take Jimin and let’s get this show on the road or else someone is going to catch us.”

All traces of whiny Hoseok were gone when the pair stood on the deck of the singular yacht the boat service still owned in front of an entire panel of controls that looked entirely too daunting for Jimin to even begin to comprehend. Hoseok, on the other hand, seemed like a kid in a candy store, some sort of high pitched giggle leaving his lips as he clapped his hands, turning to a series of switches and dials as the boat began to revv to life underneath them.

“I haven’t done anything with these in years—”

A third voice cut him off, followed by the soft whir of something through water as your boat began to poke by in front of them. “Are the two of you coming anytime soon or are you going to let it get daytime?”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, a good natured gesture as he fiddled a bit more before the boat finally began to move. “Pretty cool though…” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he turned to Jimin, “Right?”

Jimin nodded, tossing his arm around his friend’s shoulders, “So cool, Hobi.”

They’d chosen the area around an abandoned dock just outside of the town limits, beach area sufficient after a little tender love and care from the help of Jeongguk and the bed of his work truck, secret for the premise but technicalities making it so the town council members would have no grounds to shut it down. Taehyung provided the tents complete with various colored fairy lights and other lighting contraptions that Jimin couldn’t quite pinpoint the names of. Seokjin provided the transportation in the form of various high school aged children and golf carts, ones that were ordered to take the route down by the beach so that the ride was enjoyable in itself.

Food had its own designated area, homemade from Taehyung’s garden recipes, a dance floor in another area sectioned off by multicolored streamers and party decorations Hoseok had raided his attic for. Music, certainly not approved by the town ordinance, played from speakers attached to Jimin’s laptop hidden underneath a black sheet, playlist set to shuffle different on each loop. Jimin had polished the boats after they’d successfully moved them, available until the hour that darkness would completely envelope the coast, leaving them available to take food and drinks and dancing to someplace other than the wooden panels pressed deep into the sand.

You stood shoulder to shoulder with him as cool winds curled off the early evening waves, just at the entrance to the event. Taehyung had just declared The Coastal Cabaret open for business, lifting lids of expensive cooking contraptions that sent piles of steam billowing into the corners of the light lined tents, yet Seokjin was the only one who lingered around with a glass of champagne tucked delicately between his fingers.

“Do you think anyone will come?” You spoke finally, words wisped into the wind.

“I hope so.”

Taehyung called after ten minutes that the food was definitely edible, earning the attention of Seokjin who could be heard uttering ridiculous moans of approval with each new thing the farmer thrust toward him on a decoration paper plate.

“This was stupid,” You concluded twenty minutes in when the breeze had picked more clouds over, rushing the night faster than first intended. “We shouldn’t have—”

There was a chatter, a voice that didn’t belong to either of the figures already tailored to the party. Some crunching, the sound of a soft engine, and then a loud hollering could be heard as Jeongguk steered the first golf cart into a makeshift parking space in the grass.

“Here you go, have a wonderful time,” The younger man cheered, long curls stuck to his cheeks as he beamed at you and Jimin, offering a thumbs up over the steering wheel, “I bring you guests! And there’s plenty more where that came from so I have to go—”

It was an elderly couple, not unfamiliar to Jimin. He’d seen them around town, at the convenience store on the far corner from his house, roaming the shore hand in hand while he was doing his nightly closing duties at the dock. The woman touched his arm when she grew close enough, startling him out of his recognition as she softened, “We’re awful glad you arranged this, darling.”

“Oh it wasn’t just me. Hoseok and—”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, shaking your head as you absently pointed toward the spot Jeongguk had just been before leading the couple down to the tents, explaining all the way what they had to offer. At the end of your point came Hoseok in the second golf cart, a group of teenagers this time that bolted from their seats the second the machine came to a stop, bypassing any sort of explanation as they went straight for the neon lights flashing to the dance floor.

It continued like that for what seemed like hours, golf carts guiding people in, others parking their cars in messy rows just off the street to walk their way down to the coast. The unfamiliar face was few and far between, the majority of the festival goers residents of the town. The boats barely left their place at the dock on the far end of the happenings, people too preoccupied with the music and the dance and the atmosphere they’d been deprived of for what seemed like far longer than a handful of years.

Jimin found you at the corner of the dance floor, stance wide as you watched people crowd the small area without a care to who they were near, taking the part off into the sand where the music could still be coherent enough to make out some sort of body movement to. He touched your shoulder in greeting, coming to copy your stance.

“Awesome, isn’t it?” He mused, fondly watching as Hoseok slithered his way to the middle and returning with a toddler in hand, hoisting her up so that her pigtails bounced and her laughter rang in time with the beats of the music.

You nodded, awestruck in the moment but that snapped when there was a figure in your peripheral, slinking in steps, stumbling more like, in trying to be stealth but hopelessly failing. Hoseok turned with you, eyes widening as Namjoon approached with a sheepish smile.

He took both hands from the pockets of his jacket, holding them in solace to the protective step Jimin subconsciously shifted in front of you.

“Did they send you down here?” You questioned anyway, negating the step Jimin had taken by moving around him.

“Yes,” Namjoon answered truthfully, but rushed to amend when your gaze flattened, “but not for the reason you think!”

“What do I think, Joon?”

The taller man shifted from foot to sandal clad foot, fists curled back into his pockets. A smile graced his features, all dimples indented into his cheeks when he chuckled. “They told me to come have fun with you guys,” Bewildered, he continued to laugh, the sound growing in comical value, “Can you believe it?”

“No, I can’t—”

You placed a palm on Jimin’s chest, soft again in a way he’d previously heard you speak to Namjoon. “Go have fun, Joon,” You nodded when he made curious eye contact with you, “You deserve it.”

It wasn’t until Namjoon had vanished into the mass of bodies that you whipped around, searching for Jimin’s hand. When you retrieved it, you tugged, an answer to your question, “Want to go somewhere?”

Somewhere turned out to be the boat, the boat, clambering aboard a bit harder on the unkempt sway of the abandoned dock but you made it with Jimin’s support on your waist, your hands turning to offer him a similar service until you were both safely inside. You paused halfway to clambering to the front, where the space was certainly much bigger to maneuver, legs caught between the rows of benches.

You blurted, “Do you want to dance?”

He obliged, swaying you in a simple circle about yourselves that was complete with a few pained knocks of your legs against the benches but it didn’t much matter in the ambiance and you adjusted quickly. Your music became the white noise of the party happening down on the beach, high hats in the music punctuated by the sounds of laughter, accents the call of Taehyung to whoever was coming to retrieve a snack, a crescendo the whir of golf carts continuing to drag in late strays, eight counts of a part of your heart that slowly began to heal within itself, emitting such an intense beam that Jimin could feel it radiating off of you the tighter he held you.

“You’re the best thing to happen to this town in a while,” Your voice curled across Jimin’s neck, eliciting goosebumps up into the short hairs at his nape, “You know that right, ducky?”

“It was all you. I didn’t—”

“Park Jimin,” The way you quipped his full name had him startling to your gaze, finding a fond smile creeping onto your teeth just underneath tears that seemed to have already existed, “Do you know how to take a compliment?”

Softly, he answered, “Not really.”

“You have helped me though. Immensely,” Assured, you nodded, “All of us.”

Bashfully, he shrugged, pink to his cheeks harsher in the low lighting off the battery powered fairy lights Hoseok had spent hours weaving through the railing of the boat.

“Sometimes we all need a little push.”

You cocked your head, deciding albeit reluctantly, “Something like that.”

Jimin grinned. “By the way—” He began to fumble at the back pocket of his jeans, “—what music do you want?”

You shook your head, making grabby hands at him until he took you back into his embrace, holding you close as you mumbled into his chest, “Don’t want any music...

“...I just want to dance.”

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts fluff #jimin imagine #jimin imagines #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #fic: a coastal cabaret #oh my god okay im going to go hide for a little bit now ajfkdjsafldk #pls tell me your thoughts i've!! never done something like this before ajfkdsjafl #when i say edited that's a loose term so im sure there's typos im sorry

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latexmargin9 · 3 years

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International Mediation

Kent & London Household Mediation Solutions

Content

Mediation Solutions Uk.

Court.

Why Choose Kearns Mediation?

Once an agreement that matches all celebrations has actually been gotten to, our conciliator can draw up the necessary records as well as keep track of the on-going scenario, if needed. In either instance, our work regulation consultants can mediate and bring consistency to your workplace. This consists of disputes that a staff member might have against their company or a conflict among associates that has been brought to the employer because it is affecting business. Workplace disagreements can have a massive unfavorable effect on your organization, so resolving them as rapidly as well as amicably as possible is important.

How many hours a week do mediators work?

Mediators don't often work irregular hours. A dispute may arise at any time, but unless there is a pending deadline, mediators tend to work eight-hour days.

Anything claimed during the mediation can not be revealed to the outdoors without the approval of both events and the moderator. One of the underpinning concepts of mediation is discretion. This encourages events to be honest as well as straightforward, and aids to 'unblock' the dispute. The government's response was the Employment Act 2008, which revoked the statutory disciplinary and grievance procedures and replaced them with the new Advisory, Appeasement and also Adjudication Service code and also linked assistance. While mediation has not been imposed on companies, in keeping with its essential concepts of voluntariness as well as discretion, the code and advice do urge using mediation. This is underpinned by the duty of ACAS in using pre-claim appeasement and the offer of judicial mediation in particular claims process in the Employment Tribunal.

Mediation Services Uk.

It was suggested that while mediation could settle relational matters in between company and staff member, troubles with ability would undoubtedly resurface at a later point. From a staff member point of view, there was a threat that using mediation could cover unfair therapy as well as change responsibility for this far from the organisation. Nonetheless, this typically did not result in any kind of basic adjustment in practices and/or perspective, as well as in about half of instances within the sample modification was not eventually continual. Component of the reason for this was that some parties who had actually hesitated to go through mediation in the first place were prepared to accept a strategy with little or no intention of complying with it.

This was compounded by a lack of follow-up, especially if were on the surface mediated. As a full-service company, we are able to offer tailored remedies to all the legal as well as company problems you have in your life-- both in service as well as for you and also your family members. Conciliators avoid taking sides, making judgments, determining outcomes or offering advice. They are merely in charge of developing effective interactions and also building consensus between the events-- they ask inquiries that aid to assist the events to recognize the concerns and clarify the alternatives for fixing the disagreement.

Court.

Mediation can be an effective and cost-effective method of taking care of employment issues. A knowledgeable arbitrator will rapidly determine the key issues in a case and develop what outcome both sides want to attain.

The procedure is not binding unless an agreement is reached, and also can be made to be private of the company, so developing count on for workers to make use of. Virtually 50% of employers are now making use of workplace mediation according to ACAS. When collaborating with staff, it's usually adequate to frame a verbal arrangement. business mediation services might shake hands as well as agree to go forward to make the required changes. This is frequently finished with a pre-mediation meeting with each person to seek his/her dedication. TimelessTime professionals have educated to the highest levels and also have several years experience in Human Resources as well as people-management.

If you 'd like us to give you a call to talk about workplace mediation in even more detail visit this site to ask for a recall. Discussions that are carried out during mediation are not binding and the whole procedure is entirely private.

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Mediation needs some infrastructure and support for the events involved. Human Resources is well placed to supply suitable support with prep work, the logistics and aiding the events get involved completely in the process. A "mediation buddy" can provide impartial, confidential listening support to make it possible for both parties to genuinely use mediation. In many cases, nevertheless, also where there was no substantial modification in mindset as well as behavior, mediation paved the way for a level of materialism enabling the parties to remain to collaborate in some form. Furthermore, for staff members who had complained of unreasonable treatment, the chance to air their sights can be cleansing as well as empowering, also if mediation did not provide the justice that they looked for. Importantly, nearly all respondents would either advise mediation to others or think about participating once again in the appropriate situations. Some managers within the example questioned, in particular, the sustainability of negotiations in cases that entailed efficiency problems.

Events can check out all alternatives that they really feel has furthered the dispute. This makes sure that they have control of the service, that all concerns and also alternatives are discussed, encouraging events to produce sustainable remedies. Workplace Mediation enables every person in the workplace to have effective conversations to resolve the conflict, fixing busted partnerships and also produce a healthy and balanced working environment for the whole team. Fixed price mediation provides the solutions of a ProMediate Panel Arbitrator for a set price that covers all pre-mediation prep work as well as mediation time on the day itself up to an optimum of 7 hrs. Set price mediation provides the services of a ProMediate Panel Arbitrator for a fixed price that covers all pre-mediation prep work and also mediation time on the day itself up to an optimum of 7.5 hours.

Normally, you need to try mediation if you are associated with a little claim as there is no charge to you.

The courts can not require the parties to a tiny claim to utilize the solution yet they urge the events to take advantage of it.

Under the court guidelines, Judges are called for to proactively handle how cases proceed consisting of encouraging the celebrations to utilize an alternative conflict resolution treatment, such as mediation

The court should nevertheless, put the proceedings on hold or hold off establishing a test day till the mediation has happened.

workplacemediations.co.uk - what is business mediation services reading is much better for mediation to happen quicker instead of later on.

There's little in workplace disputes that they have not experienced. TimelessTime professionals have actually assisted hundreds of supervisors settle dispute in lots of varied offices. Calm Mediation is a registered charity and also not-for-profit organisation. Our rates plan mirrors our dedication to urging making use of mediation and also restorative strategies.

The process starts with a short analysis phone call with the referrer, adhered to by specific sessions with each celebration before the mediation session. The court likewise held that mediation procedures were covered by without prejudice privilege between the events, who could waive that privilege. If an additional benefit is affixed to files that are created by an event and shown to the conciliator, that party kept the opportunity and also it was not waived by disclosure to the arbitrator or by waiver of the without bias opportunity. A negotiation contract had been become part of as a result of mediation. The claimant firm related to set aside the settlement agreement because it had been participated in under financial pressure. The moderator was served with a witness summons by the accused, seeking their presence at the test to give evidence concerning the mediation, including exclusive discussions. The claimant business did not object in principle to calling the arbitrator to provide evidence however specified that the need to call the conciliator had not been demonstrated.

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Our competitive prices begin with as little as ₤ 950+ VAT for a workplace mediation. We provide a Mediation Details pack that aids parties and also referrers prepare for as well as get one of the most out of the mediation procedure.

Join to obtain regulation updates, concise educated legal expertise and understandings from our expert business lawyers. Marks & Spencer has actually been making use of mediation because 2011 as well as staff members discover resolving grievances informally less demanding, much more effective as well as a quicker remedy than increasing a formal complaint. In 2011 CIPD carried out a Dispute Administration Survey in which 57% of participants reported utilizing workplace mediation successfully. " Every one of our workplace & employment mediation endorsements with just one click." The majority of our time will be invested at work it would be preferable to have it as problem free as possible. Prospective users as well as recommendation events need to know which problems are more or less ideal for mediation, and do not utilize mediation to prevent taking a solid method to unfairness, conduct or capacity. This is a long procedure achieved by stable drip-drip understanding raising, protecting ring-fenced resolution budget plans as well as producing policies that encourage mediation as an initial resort when proper.

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One or two silent, exclusive areas will certainly be located, typically at your workplace, at our offices or in a convenient, neutral place. If you have any concerns about the selection of location you must raise this either with the individual who has referred you to mediation, or the Consilia conciliator at the very least three days prior to the mediation meeting. Usually there are simply 2 people entailed, though sometimes there are numerous, you will know that you are meeting. The process does not enable legal representatives, union reps or any other reps to be existing during the private or joint meetings. Mediation is a volunteer process, if you are unsure regarding whether or not you will attend, please talk to the person who has referred you for mediation. If you would certainly favor, you can likewise speak with an arbitrator from Consilia Mediation that will certainly have the ability to respond to any concerns you have as well as ideally allay any kind of anxieties.

#mediation services eu #mediation services europe #workplace mediation eu #workplace mediation europe #business mediation services eu #business mediation services europe

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