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crystaljins · 3 years

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River lead me home | 09 FINAL

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: Ahhh. We’re finally here. At the ending.

I feel like so much happened since I started writing this fic. I’ve been through so many ups and downs, and so have my characters. And you guys are probably the same; I wonder what adventures you guys went on as I posted this? I hope they were fun ones.

Anyway, thank you for sticking around for this long journey home. I hope you enjoy the final chapter, and I hope you enjoyed following these guys on their adventure.

Till next time, my loves.

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

It’s a long journey home. The three of you stay with the mice long enough to see the first of the recovered victims poke their little noses out of their burrows. The mayor, a harried, round little mouse with hay coloured fur and absurdly long whiskers, cannot express his gratitude deeply enough, other than to procure the three of you a comfortable stay in a nearby inn.

The journey back is only slightly less fraught with danger. The Saishtas think the two of you are dead, and not long after you part ways with the mice, new begins to circulate in the local areas that the might, evil Saishta queen has died and that her kingdom has fallen into disarray. You come across one or two of the insidious lizardpeoples after that but none of them approach or acknowledge you. Why bother, when they failed to save their queen?

After hearing that news, it’s more of a relaxed journey. You all head on from town to town, purchasing supplies and another bed roll for Jungkook. Jin is strangely eager to spend what little currency you have on the most comfortable bedroll he can find, and when Jungkook suggests he just continues to share in the interest of saving funds, Jin nearly has an aneurysm.

Jin’s behaviour is probably the strangest part of the journey. He’s not cold or standoffish like he normally is when having a crisis, but he’s definitely gentler. More reserved but also warmer. It’s not unwelcome. In fact, you can’t help but wonder. If the war had never come, would this be the life you had with Jin? Endless adventures amongst the thrilling dangers of your home realm?

You bring the thought up to Jin and Jungkook one night, while the three of you huddle together over a fire, snacking on some of the dried meats you’d purchased from the last town.

Jin looks surprised at the thought.

“I’ve always thought it would be you and Taehyung going on the big adventures.” He points out. “The two of you were never able to hold still, even for a moment.” His smile is warm and fond as he recalls your childhood.

“You’d have been dragged along.” Jungkook counters through a particularly chewy mouthful. “You’d probably be married to (Y/N) and forced to follow her around keep her out of trouble.”

Oddly, you expect Jin to flush, or protest, or attempt to strangle Jungkook. You certainly feel a bit flushed at the thought. But Jin is unfazed- he merely offers a secretive smile and tilts his head curiously at you. You couldn’t decipher the look if you tried, but it has your throat feeling tight.

You change the conversation topic after that, but it’s not the only way that Jin has changed. A few days later, the three of you are attempting to cross a little slippery creek when you lose your footing.

You stumble over a few rocks and land on your hands and knees. Even in the deepest part of the creek it only comes up to your mid-thighs when you are on all fours.

Jin skids to a stop beside you, crouching before you in the water. He doesn’t seem to care about the way his clothes become soaked.

“Are you hurt?” He demands. You take stock of your injuries- a scraped knee, a bruised shin, the palms of your hands rubbed raw. Nothing that won’t be gone in an hour or two.

“I’m fine.” You reassure him.

He nods awkwardly for a moment and then offers “I could kiss it better?”

It takes you a few blinks to comprehend his words, and even then, it makes you re-evaluate the severity of your injuries.

“What?” You demand, shocked. He shrugs and looks away.

“Like when we were kids. I could kiss it better. You used to always refuse to stop crying until I kissed you. We could try that again.” He offers nonchalantly. You must have hit your head. It’s the only explanation. You can only stare, your mouth dropped into an “o”.

“I guess that’s a no.” Jin finally says, oddly sulky in the way he says it. “Just thought I’d offer.”

You wish you could say that it’s the strangest of his behaviour, but it’s not. The rest of the journey goes like that- if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jin was flirting. Albeit, in a weirdly awkward, tentative way. Even Jungkook notices it.

“Do you think he’s finally gone mad? Maybe the extreme social media detox has made all his brain cells shrivel up and die.” Jungkook whispers conspiratorially one night while the two of you wonder a small village that is throwing a little festival. Colourful lanterns line the streets and the various creatures that inhabit the village are dressed in bright colours. Jin had decided to stay back at the inn but the two of you had wanted to explore.

“It’s the only logical explanation.” You concede, as much as it physically pains you to agree with Jungkook in anything.

“All I have to say is, if this is how he flirts I have no idea how he gets so many dates.” Jungkook laments, and your eyes widen.

“Stop.” You laugh. “He’s not flirting. It’s Jin. He thinks of me like an unwanted houseplant.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” Jungkook asks suddenly. His gaze is probing, and the mood is oddly serious for what you thought was a joking conversation.

“What?” You ask, caught off-guard.

“What if he’s actually flirting? Hypothetically. What would you do?” He questions.

You go silent, as you contemplate your answer. Honestly, you’re not stupid enough to entertain the thought of Jin liking you back. But something about Jungkook’s earnestness has you genuinely considering it.

“I don’t know.” You finally admit. You sigh, suddenly feeling tired.

“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks, tentative and almost gentle. He tilts his head curiously. “Do you like him?”

The question startles you. It feels like it’s been so long since you came to term with your feelings that you forgot not everyone else was aware of your revelation. Honestly, even to yourself it had filtered to the back of your mind. An unchanging fact, rarely acknowledged. The sky is blue. Jungkook is annoying. You are in love with Kim Seokjin.

“I do.” You finally admit. You’re reaching the end of the street where most of the festivities are taking place- the crowd is thinning and more distance separates each lantern.

“Then, if he were flirting... wouldn’t the answer be that you’d date him?” Jungkook asks. He’s pulling a face like he’s working out a rather complex maths problem. “Why don’t you know what you’d do?”

The two of you settle at the end of the street. Roughly hewn chairs are scattered randomly across the little square. In the corner, a large, greyish being snoozes, and a small group of little humanoid trees laugh over something and chatter in a foreign language.

“I feel like there’s too much to sort out first. Like... to date him I’d have to be better. I’d have to have a job. And I’d have to have apologised to my mother. I’d need to stop spongeing off the people around me. And maybe live out of home. Be a proper, human adult.” You list. “The me that I am now... I couldn’t date Jin. I’m not... I’m not...”

“Good enough?” Jungkook finishes the words gently. There’s a sad look in his eyes, and it surprises you.

You nod.

“Yeah.” You admit, and your voice is oddly choked. It’s weird- you had thought you were at peace with your feelings. You were meant to be happy with whatever scraps of affection Jin threw your way. But you’re not- there’s a deep, miserable ache in your chest that won’t go away.

Jungkook uses his sleeves to dab at the tears you didn’t even know were slipping down your cheeks.

“For what it’s worth,” Jungkook offers. “Jin doesn’t actually care about that stuff. The only reason he makes a big deal out of it is because he thinks you’ll be happy if all that stuff works out.” He tells you. “And hey. Someone once told me that the best things are the scariest to start- maybe this is one of those times?”

After that, you call it a night, and Jungkook doesn’t bring the topic up again. But you can’t forget his words. The closer to the portal the three of you draw, the more the ache in your chest grows; the closer you get to going back to normal life. What happens to you and Jin when you step back into the human realm?

What if Jungkook’s words are true? Would you... would you have to return to normal? Could you have more? Is it stupid that a part of your stupid, traitorous heart longed for it to be true with each new step towards home?

There’s a surefire way to find out; if you ask him. But you can’t. The words die in your throat every time you even consider it. You remember how he freaked out when Jungkook suggested it earlier on the trip. He likely already knows your feelings despite your denial, and it is only your constant denial otherwise that allows the two of you to exist in this strange limbo. If you stopped denying them, he’d have to address those feelings and then what? It would be back to square one- the avoidance and awkwardness as you cling to the shambles of your friendship.

You can’t go back to that- you’ve fought so hard to fix what is between you, to salvage things. Would it be worth risking it, just in the hopes that you and Jin could be more?

The night before you reach the portal, all the nerves and worries you have build up to the point that you find yourself gazing up listlessly at the canopy overhead. The branches interlace and you can perk glimpses of the stars beyond. This is the last glimpse you will get of these stars. You have already decided you won’t come back here. It’s time to stop looking back and only look forward.

Yet, despite your resolve, despite everything, sleep evades you. Tomorrow, real life awaits. An existential sort of dread has gripped you.

With a sigh, you sit up. To your right, Jungkook has curled into a tight ball as he peacefully rests. But to your surprise, Jin’s bedroll is empty. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him move.

It doesn’t take long to locate him. Only a short distance away, where the vegetation is a bit lighter and a clear patch of sky shimmers overhead, Jin lounges peacefully. He gazes thoughtfully up at the sky overhead as the starlight gilds his face in breathtaking silver.

Wordlessly, you step towards him. A twig snaps beneath your feet and Jin whirls around in surprise. When he spots you, he smiles and gentle pats the open space beside him.

Awkwardly, you settle beside him, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He questions, his eyes closed serenely. The soft sound of wind and distant sounds of wildlife filters through the night air.

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice heavy with a sigh. He blinks open one eye to peer curiously at you. It’s the most relaxed and open you’ve seen him in a long time. “What about you? You couldn’t sleep either?”

Jin shrugs.

“I could have.” He informs you. “But I thought I’d enjoy my last night in this realm instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. Jin has made it clear throughout the trip that this journey has been anything but enjoyable.

“Enjoy?” You say, only slightly incredulous. He nods and opens both eyes to stare up the sky.

“I’m as shocked as you.” He concedes. “This place has only ever meant bad things to me. It’s why I could never understand your fixation with it.”

You grimace.

“I kind of get it now, though.” He admits, before you can complain to him. “It’s a pretty beautiful place.”

“What changed your mind?” You ask, your curiosity piqued. Jin shrugs.

“You did.” He answers simply.

“M-me?” You’re not sure why you stutter; perhaps it is the strange look to his eyes as he turns fully to face you. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his cheek against them, watching you lazily.

“Yup.” He says, as if it’s the easiest confession in the world. “When I used to think about this place, all I could think about was the night we fled. My dad didn’t even time to wash the blood off his hands. He grabbed me by the wrist and held on so tight I had bruises. I didn’t want to remember that. I didn’t want to remember the place that had caused us so much pain. And you... you were such a shell. I felt like one of my best friends had died in this realm and I was so angry at what it had taken from me.” His gaze is distant with recollection. “And then I was mad at you, because you couldn’t forget no matter what I did.” He gazes at you. “But now it’s finally given me something.”

You’re startled, by his heartfelt words. You’ve always known Jin hated this realm, hated the way the beings of this realm had driven you all out. But you didn’t know you had such a huge role in his opinion of it. “You.” He finishes. “So I guess I can’t really hate this place after all.”

You’re struck speechless in that moment, and your heart swells with an overwhelming feeling. You already know you love the man before you, but in that moment, you’re shocked at just how much. A feeling bubbles up at the base of your chest- your heart feels fit to burst.

“What do you mean?” You ask- is this feeling hope? What does Jin mean, when he says the realm gave him you?

Jin merely shrugs.

“I’ll let you speculate.” He tells you, shooting you a coy smile, an oddly cheeky look that he’s given to his friends before but never to you. But then his expression shifts into something more serious. “I think there are more pressing things to discuss first, though. Like why you’re sitting here with me instead of sleeping?”

The warm feeling from earlier instantly evaporates as you recall the reason for your melancholy.

“I guess I’m just nervous.” You confess. “About going home. I’ve... I’ve really enjoyed this trip. And I’m excited to go home. But I’m just so...” you struggle to find the word. “So...”

“Nervous?” Jin suggests. He shuffles so he’s just a bit closer. His shoulder brushes yours- if you extended your neck, you could rest your head against his broad shoulders. A strange electricity buzzes through your body at the thought- it reminds you of your fight over the fungus a few days ago. The air had felt strangely charged then as well.

“Yeah.” You admit, swallowing past a dry throat. “There’s a lot to do, back home.”

“Back home?” Jin echoes, and then his smile turns warm. His mouth carefully forms the word “home” and his eyes wrinkle into two joyous crescent moon shapes. “I guess there is.” He acknowledges. “But you’ve already made the first step. You’re calling the human realm home.”

That startles you. Obviously, it is your home. But you hadn’t realised how instinctive that had become until this moment; at some point the human realm had stopped being that uncomfortable alien place, and had become the place you’re meant to go back to. Home. Jin watches you process the words carefully before he speaks again.

“You don’t have to be nervous.” He tells you softly. The tone to his voice is oddly vulnerable and delicate. Something delicate hovers between you like the flutter of a pixie’s wing. “You said you wanted to work things out together, right? So, you don’t have to be nervous because I’ll be there with you.”

He looks away and his expression is surprisingly shy. “I know you said I don’t have to be the guy with it all worked out, but I still want to try. It makes me happy. Being there for you. So even if you’re nervous... we’ll work it out together, right?”

It is that exact moment that you figure it out. Earlier, you had been uneasy at Jungkook’s line of questioning. You didn’t feel worthy of Jin’s love and affection, and that made you afraid. Because you couldn’t bear to lose him. You still can’t bear to lose him. But gazing into the warm eyes before you, you know you won’t ever lose him. The two of you have braved death together- you’ll make it through anything.

You feel lighter then, and you offer Jin a smile.

“Thank you.” You whisper. Jin smiles back.

“Any time.” He whispers back to you in answer.

Sleep comes easily after that, and so too does the end of your journey. All too soon you stand before the portal back home.

The trip feels like it’s taken a thousand years and no time at all at the same time. By your calculation, the entire journey has taken almost a month, with all the detours and misadventures. That means almost six hours have passed in the human realm. Jin has almost definitely missed his dinner plans, and your mother is probably starting to wonder why you aren’t home yet.

“What will you do, when you go back?” Jin asks. Jungkook has already stepped through and you’re surprised that Jin is making conversation now, of all times.

“Apologise to my mother.” You say easily. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save my snapchat streaks and apologise to Joon.” Jin shares. He’s nervously twisting his fingers together. The energy he gives off is like an uneasy teenager about to do a huge public speech. It’s a big contrast from the person her was last night. Like he’s bracing himself for something.

You thought you’d be bracing yourself too. On the other side is hard work and futile dreams and a bleary, dull city.

But on the other side is your mother, your friends, your family. Your evil cat waits for you on the other side; the life your father dreamed of for you is on the other side. You had thought that so much in your life is wrong, and now that the portal is here, you realise that it’s not. It’s just life. Things go wrong and things go right. Like the path of a river, cutting through the vast, unknown wilderness. You had been thinking of it this whole time like you’d flip a switch and things would be easy. But that’s not what it’s going to be like on the other side of this portal, and it’s not really what you want things to be like. It’s an adventure of a different kind.

And it’s an adventure that you want to share... with Jin.

You remember what Jungkook had said- the best things in life are the scariest to start. And you’re scared now. No, you’re terrified. But if you’re this scared, then you know that this moment is going to be huge. Life-changing. You can’t keep the words in a moment longer. You don’t want to. You’ve spent too long running and fearing and hesitating and overthinking. But you’re confident, that the two of you will survive this even if he doesn’t feel the same way, and you’re ready to take that risk.

The river loves those who take the plunge.

“Jin,” you call, and you thought that if you ever did this that you’d be lost for words. But you’re not. Because you’re finally ready. Last night had solidified that for you. The words come easily. “You remember how you said that I look at you a certain way?”

You turn and face him, and he looks bewildered.

“Like you’re my hero.” You recall. And then you steel yourself and meet his gaze. It’s the same eyes you’ve known all your life. The same eyes you want to look into for the remainder of your life. “It’s because you are my hero. No, actually, it’s more than that.” You assert, and he just stares, completely dumbstruck. “I look at you like that because I love you. Because I admire you and think you’re strong and brave and kind, and even if you’re not the guy who has it all together, I still feel the same way. And I lied when I said I just wanted you to be my friend. I thought it was enough, but it’s not- I want to be your partner. I want to be your best friend. I want to be your girlfriend.” You say. And then you summon all the exciting fluttering feels in your chest and let it pour into your smile. “I love you, Kim Seokjin.”

Before you stands something you never thought you’d see. Kim Seokjin, the mastermind behind the Jant, is completely speechless. And then slowly, very slowly, he opens his mouth to give a response.

“Are you dead?” Jungkook demands as the upper half of his body appears once more through the portal. “It’s been like 30 seconds in that realm which is approximately ten years in this realm if my maths is correct!”

You spring back from Jin. You’re startled at how far you have to step back- had you really been standing that close?

“R-right.” You stutter. You feel like you’ve been caught cheating on a diet or something equally scandalous. “We’re coming.”

Jin just looks annoyed.

“No we’re not. Give us a minute.” He snaps at Jungkook, placing a palm against Jungkook’s head and shoving him back through the portal none-too-gently. He then turns urgently back to you. “What did you just say?” He demands. His intensity has you cowering slightly- your bravado from earlier leaves you.

“I said “we’re coming”?” You recall, attempting to divert the topic, but Jin steps closer.

“No you didn’t. You said you love me. And that you want to be my girlfriend.” He accuses.

“If you knew, why did you ask me?” You grumble. And then your expression softens. “But yes. I did say that. And it’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I know you could have any girl you want and I won’t be mad if you want someone else.” You reassure him quickly. He just stares, offering you no indication of whether he’d processed your words. It’s uncomfortable, but you suppose your words were going to be uncomfortable. You’re changing the very nature of your relationship by voicing them aloud. “But if you were willing... maybe you could give me a chance?” You trail away.

Still, Jin just continues to look at you blankly. He looks like he’s a robot that just encountered a programming error. Hesitantly, you reach out to tap his shoulder, just to make sure he hasn’t died or suddenly been transformed into stone.

A hand shoots up. It grabs your wrist, halting its movements. Jin’s eyes bug out of his head.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME NOW?” He all but screeches. You flinch- you hadn’t anticipated a jant in response to your confession. “YOU HAD THE WHOLE TRIP TO SAY YOUR FEELINGS AND YOU SAY IT NOW? YOU COULDN’T HAVE WAITED ONE DAY?”

His nostrils flare as he releases your wrist so that he can point accusingly at you.

“You had all your chances! You could have said it on the way to the forest spirit! Or when the Saishtas were chasing us! Or when we landed in the ravine! You’ve had literally the whole trip and you wait until right before I’m going to confess?” He spits out in that rapid-fire way that you’ve never seen another person be able to replicate.

And then you process his words.

“Wait-“ you say, hoping to abort the jant so that you have enough time to comprehend what he’s saying.

It’s no use.

“Seriously! I had a whole plan, (Y/N)! We were going to go to dinner and I was going to buy you flowers and I was going to ease you into it! But no! You just had to beat me to it, and for what? For what? So that you can make a half-assed confession right before we step into an alley next to a brothel?” He laments.

“It’s not half-assed-“ you protest, because you’d poured your heart out to Jin.

He steps in menacingly.

“Take it back.” He demands. Your eyes widen.

“What?” You cry, defensively. To your credit, you only cower a little which is an impressive feat for someone on the receiving end of a jant.

“Your confession! Take it back!” He orders.

“No!” You argue back. “I’m not going to do that.”

“You are!” Jin counters. “You’re going to take it back and we’re going to do it properly, over dinner, and you’re going to have washed hair and I’m going to-“

You don’t let him finish whatever stupid thoughts were filtering through his brain. If he wants a proper, romantic confession, then he’s going to get one! You hear a sharp intake of breath from him as your lips press to his. They’re slightly chapped after such a long period of rough travel, but the sensation is still pleasant. Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel like you’re about to burst.

It takes Jin a moment to respond. But when he does, it’s with an intensity that is almost frightening. You’re startled by the way he pulls you close. It’s like the electricity from last night, but multiplied a hundred-fold. If you thought your heart was ready to burst before, it is nothing compared to the way molten lava fills your chest when his hands come up to gently cradle your face and deepen the kiss.

When you finally recall that oxygen is something you need, Jin pulls away and searches your gaze. His hands slide down to your waist, resting delicately along the flare of your hips. His face is bright red but his eyes are determined.

Something about the way he is looking at you has you feeling shy.

“That was weird, huh?” You stammer, trying to cover the way you feel so completely overwhelmed. “Sorry.” Your heart is dancing in your chest. It’s all too much for one person to feel and you’re just not really sure what to do with the sensation. Did he feel it too? This weird tension, like you’re a balloon about to pop?

Jin doesn’t break eye contact and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips.

“Hard to say.” He finally says, breaking his long spell of silence. He then grabs at either side of your face, puckering his lips obnoxiously. “I think we need to try again to be sure.”

You barely have time to protest before he’s attempting to pull you in for a second kiss, although you slap a hand over his mouth to halt his advance.

“Wait!” You accuse. “You can’t just kiss me and not respond to what I said!”

“I already told you.” He snaps. “Your confession doesn’t count until we do it properly. Now if you excuse me-“ He grabs you by the elbows and tugs you back towards him, attempting to kiss you once more, but you stop him with a hand pressed to his chest. His expression turns pleading. “Just one more time.” He requests.

You swallow, and gaze into his eyes. It’s not an unfamiliar look, you realise. He’s looked at you like this before, but you now realise what the emotion was behind that look.

“I love you.” You tell him. “I told you like this because yes. I couldn’t wait one more day. I don’t want to wait another day without you knowing. I love you.” You say one more time, just for good measure.

His expression crumbles and he sighs in resignation, before pulling you tightly against him. His embrace is warm, and secure. It’s no different from all the other times he’s hugged you in your life, and yet nothing is the same.

“Fine.” He says, into the crook of your neck. “But I’m not saying it back until we have a proper date.”

He pulls out of the hug and the love in his gaze is overwhelming. It’s not a confession, per se, but his intent is as clear as day.

He loves you. You know he does.

“Deal.” You say back, and his response is his eyes crinkling up as he offers you that special smile, the one that he only shows when he’s really, truly happy. “But you’re paying.”

“How about we save any important conversations for the side of the portal where we’re not in constant mortal danger?” Jungkook demands, his head once more poking through the portal. There’s an awkward silence as he glances between the two of you, and then he groans. “Seriously? You had the entire journey to sort this out and you waited until now? You couldn’t even just leave it until after dinner?”

“Sorry!” You apologise quickly, going to follow Jungkook’s lead through the portal. But a hand wrapped around your wrist stops you- you hadn’t even noticed Jin had grabbed you.

You turn to gaze questioningly at him, and he shrugs, shifting his hands until he can interlace his fingers with yours.

“Wait. Let’s go together.” He requests, then pauses. “Can we?”

Something about this moment feels monumental. Huge. You’ve braved enemy encampments, crossed mountains. You’ve gone free-falling into giant ravines and overcome furious forest spirits.

And yet this moment feels like the start to your biggest adventure yet. From this point on, real life starts. You smile at Jin and he returns it.

“Yeah.” You say. “Let’s go together.”

Jin’s reply is covered by Jungkook’s annoyed call through the portal:

“What did I just say? Hurry up!”

~Fin~

#castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #kim seokjin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #writing

110 notes · View notes

struwwelzeter · 3 years

Note

For a variety of reasons, I got into a bit of a rabbit hole about Richard's guitars, and my brain went "oh I know someone who will probably have opinions on this" so essentially, if you feel like it, pretty please talk RZK guitars to me? Favourite? Retired one that needs to come back? (Though I probably already know the answer, that fancy black one?)

Allrighty, buckle up because this is gonna be long. After much consideration I have decided to split it up in two parts because I don’t think I can make it fit into one post that is still vaguely tumblr appropriate, and I really wanted to do it some sort of justice. I still feel like I don’t. But oh well. Full disclaimer, I am NOT a guitarist, but I lived with a few, two of my best friends are pro players and I’m a sponge so I kind of soaked some bits and pieces up over the last 15 years. But in case any lost guitar hero finds this and disagrees with me over the finer points of tone wood: I know honey, I oversimplified, and I am wrong. I tried? 💜 for easier read I formatted everything specific to Richard’s guitars normally and anything general about electric guitars in cursive.

My main sources besides watching about a 100 a month of guitar tube videos (that is youtube for guitarists) with my ex, my main sources will be this interview and this.

Richard Z. Kruspe (of Rammstein and Emigrate)’s Guitars - In Order of Appearance, Part 1/2

Diamant (Les Paul Style)

“I traded the acoustic for a guitar called Diamant, which was like a Les Paul version in East Germany.” - RZK

Now I’m skipping the acoustic he started out with, because it’s basically impossible to know what that was, and go straight into the electric. Now presumably, it would have been something like this, a soviet build Les Paul rip off. The irony is that these still go for several thousands up on reverb today for being historical and collectors pieces. The thing is, that while anything east build might have used cheaper materials, I would assume this thing isn’t worse than any of the beginner/intermediate models sold today, if not better, and kids all over the world do decent stiff with those.

Something general about electric guitars is that you don’t really so much play the guitar, you play an entire system. The instrument doesn’t make the sound, it only influences it. You play a guitar - but you even more so play the amp. Which makes this a bit tricky, because an e-guitar is a slab of wood and a copper coil, and amps are way more complex. You can make the exact same guitar sound so many ways. Still - there are tendencies. The fact how and why and to which degree the shape and wood of a solid body (a guitar without a hollow wood piece) influences the sound is highly debated and can get a bit esoteric sounding to sane people non-guitarists, but there are some differences in how the general set up and build of the guitar changes things, and tendencies how they are traditionally outfitted. Les Paul style guitars are normally humbucker guitars, Stratocasters and Telecasters normally are outfitted with single coils. Usually a guitarist can switch - between using the bridge, the neck, or both (or more) pick ups and depending on where the pick up is located they pick up different frequencies, different aspects of the sound. Humbuckers produce a richer, deeper or fuller sound than single coils. Very roughly speaking, think the Stones vs. Metallica.

Fender Stratocaster

“Then in East Germany, we had this imagination to get one of the great guitars, to me it was always the Fender Stratocaster because it was the Jimi Hendrix guitar. I didn’t know anything about pickups or humbuckers or whatever. So there was this guy that I met in a café in my old hometown and he was buying all these books because he could get all the books out through customs and he would store them in my apartment. So we became kind of acquainted. He would come over and pick up the books. So one time he came over and I asked him if he could get me a guitar and bring it over. In East Germany, if you exchange money from East to West it would be like 1 East mark and 20 West mark. SO everything I had, I changed it to West Mark and I gave him the money and I gave him the money and asked him to please buy me a Fender Stratocaster. I gave him the money and I didn’t hear anything for like three months, nothing. I wasn’t able to call because we didn’t have phones and stuff like that – it was a different time. So I thought fuck, I gave him 1400 west mark and now he’s gone and never coming back. [...] Then my imagination was so high, I thought the guitar would just play by itself and I wouldn’t really have to do anything, which I found out was bullshit. I was really happy that I had the guitar but it wasn’t really the sound that I had in mind.” - RZK

The first time I heard that story, I literally went “no, no, no, don’t be stupid, don’t give him your money, you won’t even like that guitar, stupid, lost dumbass.” I can not, for the life of me, imagine him play anything other than humbuckers. He apparently does use single coils for some things today again in the studio, but still, it’s so obviously wrong. He did play one again sometime during the late 90s, but I couldn’t find anything on the pick ups he used with that, but can hardly imagine he kept the original, unless he needed it for a specific sound maybe in one or two songs. I get it though. For many, many people the Fender Stratocaster is THE guitar. Jimi Hendrix is the main reason for that, but it’s also the countless idols that picked it up after him for the same reason, people who ended up plastered on the walls of angsty teenagers in their own right. This totally has to do with the whole amp thing aswell. You see your idol play that type of guitar ... but it’s not even half of the sound, and it won’t sound the same. Maybe probably they changed the pick ups, they have an effect rig, the spend hours fiddling with the knobs on an amp you can never afford. It’s never the same. Which is why ...

Fender Telecaster Black Gold

Then I had a guitar that I was very fond of. It was an older black and gold telecaster – there weren’t very many of them made at that point. I put a Seymour Duncan Jeff Beck SH-4 in there, like a humbucker. I remember it was like my beauty guitar and I needed someone to put that pickup in and I was with Paul and he had more experience with that stuff than me so he would get out a hammer and a chisel and he start banging away on it and I was like ‘Fuck! Fuck! Don’t do that!’ but we put the thing in there and it was one of my favorite guitars” - RZK

... this one first didn’t really make sense for me for him. It’s even more a classic single coil guitar than the Strat is, and it only really started making sense for me when I learned he Paul indeed put a Humbucker in there. It’s a stunningly beautiful guitar, and weirdly non-modern for him. I don’t know why and this is completely instinctual on my part, but I find it fitting he played it during that time after the wall came down, which seems to have been a rough time for him generally, it seems like a somehow super emotional guitar, this relic. Telecasters were some of the first electrics ever build, it’s such a pioneer, but it’s also one that alot of punk bands used, possibly because they were old and cheap in the 70s and noisy and people customized it and put other pick ups in. The whole putting a chisel to it and adding a humbucker into it is such a “I’m gonna make whatever I have fit for me, and I’ll love it” move. If you look at it, a double coil pick up is really something you have to force to go in there, you really have to break it open. There is also this:

“... and then I think I had to sell it because I needed drugs or something. I was really sad that I sold it because I was at a very low point in my life.” - RZK

If I would get the chance to do one thing only for him to thank him for his music, I would go back in time to that Richard who is just sad about selling that guitar and hug him, and tell him he doesn’t need to worry, because they will name guitars after him in the future. It breaks my heart so fucking much. But of course, it’s what opens the doors to what happens next, which is ...

ESP 901

“That led me to my very first convention in Frankfurt. With guitars, it is like with women, you have to fall in love. Sometimes you get a guitar and you fall in love later but there has to be some sort of connection with it. So I was walking around that convention and I saw that guitar hanging at the ESP stand. It was a 901 ESP Sunburst and I was looking at it because it was such a beauty. And I was walking around for hours – they probably thought I was some weird guy who wants to steal the guitar. I bought that guitar and that’s how I got connected with ESP.” -RZK

He might have fallen for it because it is pretty, but it did come with a ESP double humbucker set up, with an added condensator to muffle up the sound, although not yet an active one (more on that later). It was a 90s metal guitar, one of those things marketed to the Metallica generation, something loud and heavy and full. Also, and this is where I will put in another general insert, there is something else about the choice of electric guitars that we haven’t talked about yet.

Now, I’ve discussed that you can push or pull the sound of a electric quite far in one or the other direction with what pick ups you use, what effects, what amps. But what this ignores is that especially standing up a guitar is a really shitty asymmetrical piece of equipment. And what that does to your body is that it needs to fit you, your hands, and your playing style. Some people prefer it chunky, others like sender. Guitarists, especially the 80s shredders, like to talk about a “fast neck”, which is another one of those things that get slightly esoteric, but which usually means a slimmer neck and slightly bigger frets, that need less way for your fingers to press until the string gets stopped. Someone who plays very bendy blues might dislike that and prefer something to dig in their fingers more down to the fretboard to get more control over how they bend the string. There are different neck profiles, there are different neck lengths, and all of it contributes to how comfortable someone might find their guitar.

I am mentioning this, because until today, Richard’s guitars are build very similarly to that ESP 901. His Eclipse Model is a tad different (again, more on that later), but the one he uses the most, the RZK I, has the same neck scale, similar frets, and that comfortable ESP slender neck. Even the shape seems to be inspired by turning it upside down. He has said in interviews that he hasn’t got very strong hands, and it makes perfect sense to me. I bought my own electric (again, more on that later) purely because I wanted to own one and not even so much because I ever had any real ambitions of learning to play it, but my friends at the time (10 years ago now) forced me to try out alot (!) of models (despite me knowing what I wanted), and the only guitars that I tried that had slimmer necks were Ibanez guitars, which in turn were wider. Ironically Frankfurt is my hometown, so the place to try a lot of different models is That exact convention Richard went to, and I haven’t skipped a Musikmesse in the last 15 years. I was at atleast one were Richard was too (I just didn’t care at the time, yikes), and it somehow greatly pleases me he found “his” guitar at that particular convention. Things have changed in recent years, but electric guitars always were in Hall 4.01, with ESP being left of center in the middle, and I don’t know, I can just see him walking in circles around it, and it makes me so emotional for him because it’s what musicians do at that place. It’s really loud, everyone is playing, there is someone better noodling around at every corner, and it can be quite an intimidating setting I think. And every year you see that one kid coming back and back again to that same stand, staring at that one guitar until they finally work up the nerve and ask to try it (or the staff takes pity on them and offer). And it’s the same everytime, they think “oh god they must think I am crazy” but really, nobody does. Everyone in that hall who owns a heart knows what those dreams are made of, and all it maybe does inspire is a “oh god, I hope that one makes it”. I digress. I think it’s more common now to look for different neck styles and companies started caring about it, but especially coming from Fender and Gibson guitars, that neck is honestly just very, very nice for weaker hands.

This is where I will stop, because it makes a good moment for a break and this post is honestly getting too out of hand otherwise. There will be a part 2 - where Richard starts using active pick ups, starts playing my favorite guitar in the whole wide world (and stops playing it), and finally, set up his own signature.

This is him with that 901 though: when he must have had it pretty much brandnew, while he used it, and right before he sold it.

#richard kruspe #rzk #richard zk #rammstein #esp #electric guitars #can you tell I love him very much #although i might love the guitars more than him #i keep meeting guitarists and I never know if i like them or the fact they play guitar

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kierancampire · 2 years

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Ohohohohoh, other fun IRL Kieran fact before i go to bed

I'm a social sponge, i soak up whatever everyone else is feeling. If you're crying, I'm crying. If you take a nap, i fall asleep too. But maybe due to this, I'm basically a mind reader. Although people can and have, obviously as i have been hurt a lot, get things by me and lie to me, but i do seem to know what someone is thinking or feeling

For instance i think back to that time my great nan was staying with us, and the day before i knew my mum wanted to leave me with her, nothing suggested it, but i just knew it. So i begged her not to as i couldn't care for my great nan and it was too much for me. Literally the next day, i get home after college or whatever, no one's home. Just like i felt my mum left me with my great nan. I was livid.

Again around college time, i knew who'd be friends, who'd date, who'd hate who, again i was correct. Then a more recent weird experience, one time at the foyer someone knocked at my door, i never answered but i guessed who it was and why they were knocking, i even told my YPC this, i later saw the resident and they said it was them, and i was correct about why they knocked on my door

Sometimes my lack of confidence and over thinking get on the way, but again, in person i guess I'm just very "perceptive". Partially cause the doggy day care/dog walking called for it, but a way that comes in handy is i can track a room and people like nobody's business. Again 2 examples, one time a girl i met for the first time was touched that i recognised she left the group to look at the gluten free cakes. Then another, my family was at the zoo and while my mum was in the toilet literally everyone without really checking with anyone all went off in different directions to do different things, my brain latched onto key words that everyone said so i was able to point my mum in the multiple directions of everyone so she could round us all up again. I'm totally that stereotype of being silent cause I'm observing everyone haha

#Personal

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casual-eumetazoa · 3 years

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on love, the autistic way

my grandfather died last year (very suddenly, from covid) and it has been enough time now that i am able to access my childhood memories of him without feeling overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, and all i find in those memories again and again is an astonishing amount of love

it was more than just the love of a grandparent for their grandchild - it was a special kind of love and care of two autistic people for each other that i don’t know whether neurotypical people can experience

my grandfather was never diagnosed with autism and i was only diagnosed at 18 years old so it’s not like we had labels for it when i was a kid, but it was quite obvious that both of us were distinctly different, and we were different in the same way. my parents both have their own packages of neurodivergent traits but they never operated in the neurotypical world as outsiders, they were never so different that they had a need to carve out a space for themselves because they’ve always felt at home with everyone else

me and my grandfather did not. we both lived and operated in the neurotypical world, but we were just different enough to be acutely aware of it, and we both knew this is a condition we shared. it became a running joke for us back when i was in preschool and my grandfather was the first person to bring up the world “Aspergers” after he read an article online - i was about 11 at the time - and told me, “hey, look, this is you, this is us”. and that fact, that condition of us being different enough, that was a huge source of love. that was a bond stronger than family and bloodties, that was unlike anything i’ve had with any other family members

neurotypical parents of autistic kids talk about their anguish of not having their children express love in the way they want them to, and i almost get it, except i don’t think they realize that it feels like that too for their kids. because autism and not-autism speak different languages, not just in a literal sense, but in a much broader way that covers every aspect of your existence. expressions of love do not look the same in autistic. they don’t always look like words and hugs and drawings. but they can look like:

sharing or just respecting each other’s routines. so many of my happy childhood memories are of detailed, particular routines i’ve had, either shared with or arranged around my grandfather’s routines. in the chaotic world that was not built for us, we carved out our own space that operated on our rules, and we intuitively understood those rules and lived, thrived in them.

when we were spending summers in a tiny cottage far from Moscow, that secluded world was ours, it ticked how we wanted it to, and it was full of love. it was in those repeated actions we shared, in our customs and our order - and when the rest of our family came to visit it was bittersweet, because they came into our order and broke it. we were happy to see them but we were also happy in our own specially constructed universe;

partaking in each other’s passions. my grandfather had a phd in physics and worked as an electrical engineer, he was obsessed with sci-fi, he spent his entire life tinkering with electronics and making crafts and collecting stuff that looked like junk to everyone else. i soaked up his knowledge like a sponge. i grew up with a deep fascination and love for science, technology, and books. he taught me maths and science from preschool all through my undergrad degree and he was the person who gave me my first sci-fi novel

i was obsessed with many things as a child and he nurtured those passions no matter how strange they seemed. just like i would spend hours listening to him explain physics to me, he would spend hours listening to me explain obscure biology to him when i was nine. he is the reason i am a writer and a biologist now. these passions were strange to everyone else but we both understood how much a special interest can mean to you and we bonded tremendously over ours, even when they did not overlap at all;

understanding and respecting each other’s needs, even those that seemed ridiculous to everyone else. my grandfather was deeply preoccupied with order and clean environments. i learned very quickly as a child how things had to be arranged in his house and where they had to be returned every time you used them. he couldn’t stand even looking or smelling certain foods and i always knew what to check for when buying stuff or helping with cooking. he had a very particular way of bagging groceries that i myself still use. so many quirks and habits he had that i was either aware of or actually picked up myself

and he knew my habits and quirks too. he knew my sensory needs and he read my body language like no one else in my family could. he always knew when i was close to meltdown and would get me out of that environment just before it would happen. he meticulously removed tomatoes or mushrooms from my pizza slices and knew the exact right consistency of scrambled eggs that i preferred. all of my ridiculous needs and preferences were not at all ridiculous for him because he knew how it felt and it did not seem unreasonable for him, and i also understood why groceries had to be put into the bag in Just This Way because i needed things ordered too;

spending time together in just the right way. being comfortable with just co-existing around each other without interacting. i love my grandmother too, love her to bits, but being around her often exhausted me because she wanted to talk, she wanted hugs, she wanted to Spend Time Together. but me spending time with my granddad could mean just sitting in the same room and reading and only breaking the silence once in an hour to share a line from the book i liked and continue to co-exist in silence. we did not look each other in the eyes because we did not feel the need to and we understood how much personal space we both needed. it did not upset us or make us feel unloved. the love was in co-existing in harmony even if that meant not talking for an entire day or staying in our own rooms for a whole weekend

all of this was love, and it was special, because it was in defiance of what society was expecting. it was a daily fight to keep and maintain a space for ourselves in the world that did not work for us. it was such a sharp contrast to school for me, where everything about me was weird and wrong and needed fixing. it was the kind of love that told me “you are perfect just the way you are, look, i’m like you and we are both fine just as we are”

i am the spitting image of my grandfather in so many ways, and a big part of that is the habits, the stims, the routines and special interests i have picked up from him. it is all the time i had spent with him, all the happy memories i’ve made. it was the radical acceptance, the total understanding we’ve had between ourselves. and it is the absence of this love that i feel so sharply now that he is gone.

and this is the definition of love that has been imprinted on my brain, and spread out from just familial love to every kind of relationship i have. this is what i am now looking for in everything - friendship, romantic relationship... the love i am seeking everywhere comes from a place of acceptance, of shared routines and respect for each other’s needs and boundaries and bonding over each other’s passions. this is love as i understand it as an autistic person and it is not easy to do in a neurotypical world

i feel for the mothers that want their autistic kids to hug them and say “i love you mummy”. but i feel much stronger for the autistic child who never had someone like my grandfather, a child who wants someone to listen to them talk for hours about their current obsession or wants someone to recognize their patterns and routines and allow them to exist as their brains require them to. i know i will spend the rest of my life searching desperately for this kind of love and i cannot imagine what i would be like if i did not get to experience it

my grandfather is dead, but the love we had for each other is very much alive in me, and still, not a day goes by without me thinking about it

#actuallyautistic #autism #love #long post

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 9 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: right. i have no words. u all deserve this chapter after last week’s anguish….so as we say in my homeland…here wi…here wi…here wi fuckin go xo

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

8th November 2020

The rain has got worse.

It’s evolved from drizzle into a full-scale downpour, but Vanessa supposes it’s covering up the tears that are streaming down her face as she walks down the streets with only the orange of the streetlamps lighting her way in the dark. Her jumper is still in the rehearsal studios and she’s soaked to the skin, her hair plastered against her scalp and feeling much the same as if she’d just jumped in the shower.

She is so confused and hurt. Brooke has been so kind to her, she’s been supportive and caring and brought her flowers, for fuck’s sake, flowers that Vanessa’s still holding in her grasp but perhaps she should let go because let’s face it, she’s got to let go. Vanessa was so so sure she hadn’t misread the signals but…maybe she was wrong about the whole thing, maybe she was wrong about Brooke’s feelings.

She feels so embarrassed.

She gets to the end of the road and sighs. Her phone is in the pocket of her sweatpants and when she brings it out it’s immediately covered in raindrops. It takes her three attempts to unlock it in the rain and before she knows it she’s scrolling to Monique’s contact and ringing her. She’s lucky that Monique lives close by, and before she picks up the phone Vanessa has already made the decision to start walking in the direction of her flat.

“Hello hello?”

Vanessa takes a shaky breath in because she’s got absolutely no idea what her voice will sound like when she speaks. “Mo, I need to come round. I wouldn’t ask and I know it’s late an’ you’re probably exhausted but I…I really need a friend right now.”

There isn’t even a single pause between what Vanessa says and Monique’s response. Her voice replies instantly, comforting and reassuring and urgent all at once. “Come straight round. You want wine or tea?”

“I don’t even know. Tea maybe,” Vanessa shrugs, supposing that a hangover would be the last thing she needs tomorrow considering she’ll also have to face Brooke again.

“Gotcha. See you in five, boo.”

Even the small chat she’s had with Monique has made her tears dissipate slightly. It helps Vanessa feel reassured as she quickly crosses the road, her feet landing in all different depths of rapidly-forming puddles. By the time she’s outside Monique’s stairwell and pressing its buzzer, she feels like a submerged sponge.

“Come right up.”

Vanessa takes the stairs two at a time and when she gets to Monique’s door her friend is already holding it open. Maybe it’s because she’s seeing a friendly, kind face or maybe it’s because she can finally let out her emotions in peace but when she gets to Monique she falls into her arms for a hug and starts to cry all over again. Monique holds her steadily, not even making any comment about the fact the pink flannel pyjamas she’s wearing are getting drenched by proxy from Vanessa’s half-drowned frame. After a few moments spent this way, Vanessa feels Monique step away and motion her into the flat.

“C’mon, girl.”

Vanessa follows Monique into her bedroom. She’s been here before, probably hundreds of times, but the fairy lights and soft, patterned cotton bed sheets and heavy, dark curtains are comforting to Vanessa, helping her feel relaxed. She’s standing in the middle of the room as Monique looks at her with a single raised eyebrow of confusion, taking in her drenched clothes and mascara train tracks that adorn her cheeks and the bouquet of flowers that she’s still holding in her right hand. Vanessa can almost see the cogs in Monique’s brain turning.

“Alright,” she begins slowly. “Plan of action…I’m gonna make us tea. While I’m doin’ that, you’re gonna take a shower an’ borrow a set of my pyjamas. Make sure you choose comfy ones, Lord knows you need ‘em. Uh, I’ll take these too, I guess? Put ‘em in water.”

Monique points at the flowers and Vanessa wordlessly gives them to her. Monique examines them with an appreciative gaze.

“Huh. Heliotrope an’…somethin’ else, I don’t know that one.”

Vanessa scrunches her face up. Monique’s just given her the first laugh she’s had in the past half hour. “Since when were you the queen of horticort…horitic…plant knowledge?”

Monique quirks her a smile. “Hey, if you get given enough bouquets after dance competitions you start to recognise a flower or two.”

Vanessa shrugs in agreement and, as Monique leaves the room, she does what she’s told. She jumps into Monique’s en suite, strips down and takes a hot shower. On top of being wet outside it had also been freezing, so the warm water and all the steam feel like a big hug both physically and mentally. Vanessa grabs one of the clean fluffy towels that sit on the small bamboo shelves Monique’s put up and wraps it around herself as she pads back through to the bedroom. She’s been friends with Monique for so long that she knows which of the old battered wooden antique drawers holds which item of clothing (top drawer underwear and socks, second drawer down is tops, third drawer down is bottoms and bottom drawer is pyjamas) so she grabs a soft cotton pair of pyjamas that’s comprised of an oversized t shirt and some long, baggy pyjama pants. She tucks herself up into a little ball on the bed and the moment she’s finally comfy Monique returns with two steaming mugs of tea and a packet of biscuits tucked into the crook of her elbow and pinned to her side.

“You turned up on my doorstep at the right time, girl, I got the good shit earlier on today,” Monique smiles as she hands Vanessa her mug and gets herself comfortable under the duvet next to her, pointing at the biscuits which seem to be more chocolate than biscuit. Monique offers them to Vanessa, and she declines before Monique shrugs and rips into the packet herself. As she bites into one, she gives Vanessa a questioning and concerned gaze. “You wanna talk about it?”

Vanessa hums as she thinks, winces a little as the memory of what has happened barges into her mind again. She is momentarily distracted by the wet tendrils of hair dripping through her pyjama top, the towel-drying only doing so much. She turns to Monique and pouts. “Can you braid my hair an’ I can vent?”

“Sure, doll.”

So Vanessa vents. Tells her everything, the whole situation. Monique listens and by the time Vanessa is done her hair is in two perfect braids.

“So you’re tellin’ me-” Monique begins, once Vanessa is finished talking. “- that you were a cryin’ mess when you went for the kiss?”

Vanessa scrunches up her face in a frown. “I guess so?”

“Well, bitch!” Monique shoves her and lets out a huge exasperated sigh. “Why else you think she pushed you away? Would you wanna smooch with someone cryin’ their damn eyes out?”

Vanessa pauses as she considers Monique’s words. She might have a point, but then again she didn’t see the look Brooke had given her. In Vanessa’s mind, the only possible explanation is that Brooke is disgusted with her, she’d read all the signals wrong, and that she’s probably phoned up a producer already and quit the show.

Okay, maybe she’s being a little dramatic.

Vanessa doesn’t answer Monique’s question. Instead she reaches for the phone she’s discarded on Monique’s bedside table, looks at her notifications.

2 missed calls: Brooke Lynn

B: Vanessa I’m so sorry

B: If you want to just forget it all happened that’s okay, just please don’t be embarrassed xxx

Vanessa reads the text over again. The wording of the second one is weird and it messes with her head. The fact that the ball’s in her court, the fact Brooke is telling her not to be embarrassed, the kisses…

No. Don’t get your hopes up, bitch.

“She text you?”

Vanessa sighs, feels her whole body deflate like a balloon. She nods, wordlessly passes Monique the phone. She watches her eyes dart over it quickly, Monique’s face smirking as she hands her the phone back.

“Oh my God, Vanjie. She’s panicking just as much as you are.”

“Panicking ‘cuz she’s partnered with some crazy bitch tryna pull moves on her when she’s a professional just there to take part in a competition,” Vanessa huffs. She feels herself pout a little as she looks down at her phone. “I really liked her, Mo.”

“Will you stop usin’ past tense? It’s not over! You gotta go in there tomorrow morning, hold your head high, be a professional an’ act like nothing’s happened.”

Vanessa suddenly has a thought. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“I choreographed a fuckin’ Argentine Tango.”

Monique lets out a howl of a laugh as Vanessa puts her head in her hands and sinks down against the pillows. If Brooke thought their Salsa was hot Vanessa doesn’t even know how she’s going to react when she reveals the dance they’re doing tomorrow.

And tomorrow rolls around quickly. Vanessa drags herself into the studios, borrows rehearsal clothes from Monique which are ever-so-slightly too small for her but are preferable to wearing the crumpled outfit she’d been wearing in the rain yesterday. Monique flanks her as she walks with her from her flat, keeping her distracted with mindless chatter and silly jokes which Vanessa pretends to laugh at. Monique doesn’t seem to mind the fake laughter though, and when they arrive at the studios she gives Vanessa a tight hug and tells her to text her to tell her how things go.

Vanessa waits. She paces the rehearsal room and thanks God that they don’t have their filming slot first that day. She barely slept the night before, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to play the situation, and she’s concluded that if Brooke is giving her the option to pretend that Sunday never happened she’s going to take her up on that. Though she feels her already flimsy resolve breaking down as she finally sees Brooke enter the room, her face pale and her eyes puffy indicating a similar lack of sleep. Her hair hasn’t been brushed and her ponytail is what can only be described as bumpy, stray hairs sticking up from her scalp at all angles. She’s wearing a huge baggy hoodie with her exercise leggings and it’s swallowing her up, though from her expression it seems as if Brooke doesn’t mind.

For a moment there’s a sort of standoff. Vanessa waits for Brooke to speak first and it seems as if Brooke is doing the same for her. It’s Vanessa that finally speaks first, her guilt overtaking her.

“Morning,” she says simply. It’s only then that she registers the fact that Brooke is carrying a plastic bag.

“Hey. You, uh. You left your jumper and your speakers, so I brought them in today.”

“Thanks.”

Vanessa scuffs her shoe against the floor, casts her eyes to the ground. Brooke seemingly takes this as her cue to speak.

“Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?”

Vanessa cringes. She hopes she doesn’t do so visibly. She casts her eyes back up to Brooke, makes sure she’s got eye contact when she delivers her words. “Why, what happened yesterday?”

Brooke frowns, opens her mouth as if to remind her then snaps it closed again as she clearly realises what Vanessa wants to do. She gives a small smile which doesn’t meet her eyes. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” Vanessa nods curtly. She takes a deep breath, because Brooke is still her dance partner and they’re still competing and they’re still going to be on TV in six days’ time, so she pulls her shoulders back and fixes her with the best smile she can manage. “Let’s warm up. Then I’ll tell you what we’re doin’ this week.”

The kiss doesn’t get brought up again. That’s good. Vanessa’s glad. There’s nothing to say, so instead of talking they rehearse. They rehearse and rehearse and rehearse and they barely talk apart from that. Vanessa saves her communication for her choreography, in touches and Ochos and the way her body moves in Brooke’s hold. Vanessa’s still marking the majority of the dance, careful not to push herself too far, but she makes sure to put extra effort in when she’s teaching Brooke the Ganchos and they hook their legs together. Vanessa is sure Brooke gets extra quiet during those sections, and her eyes go all dark and heavy. She wants to believe Brooke likes her, wants to believe maybe she did want to reciprocate their kiss on Sunday, but the last time she got her hopes up that high Brooke had pulled away so she’s wary of doing so again. Still, though, the Argentine suits Brooke. The way she takes control and leads, the power in everything she does. Vanessa’s head is already a concrete mixer of emotions and horny is one she really doesn’t want to have to add to the list, but when Brooke puts one arm around her waist, lifts her up and drags her across the rehearsal room floor while Vanessa’s thigh is hooked over her hip it’s hard not to have some sort of visceral reaction.

The tension builds over days. They’ve been entirely professional all week, not even exchanged so much as a text and it’s eating Vanessa up inside. So when it gets to late evening on Wednesday and it’s dark outside and Vanessa has peeled off her jumper and sweats and is wearing a pair of little cycling shorts and a sports bra to rehearse in, she honestly doesn’t know how it’s going to go when she suggests a full run of the dance.

“If we get it so that we’re nailing it by tonight then we got Thursday, Friday an’ Saturday morning to polish it,” Vanessa explains to Brooke as she walks over to her phone and makes to re-start the music.

“Sure. Sounds good,” Brooke nods easily. She adjusts the table and chair that they start off their dance with, makes sure the napkin is in place. Vanessa swallows her anxieties and presses play, dashing over to the chair and sitting down in it.

“Full energy, okay?” she reminds Brooke, although she’s not sure she needs a reminder given that Brooke’s been putting her all into even tiny counts of eight.

The music starts and on the first beat Vanessa stretches out, places her hand against the table. Right on cue, Brooke has grabbed her forearm. Vanessa whips her head around to face her and Brooke draws their faces close with the palm of her hand flat against Vanessa’s cheek. Their eyes connect and for a second, Vanessa thinks she can see what looks like longing in the dark of Brooke’s pupils.

It’s just the dance. She has to be imagining it.

As quickly as she’s there Brooke is suddenly gone, spinning around and slamming her hand against the napkin in time with Vanessa. They raise it up so it’s level between them and Vanessa uses it to twirl in close to Brooke, their bodies instantly pressed together. Brooke’s got both hands on the napkin now and she’s using it to keep Vanessa close to her as she leans back then spins between Brooke’s left and right side. As Brooke lets go of the prop with one hand and Vanessa twirls across to the other side of the ballroom, she watches her scrunch the napkin up and slam it to the floor. The action makes her catch her breath. Brooke’s a good actress, and they’ve done this section hundreds of times, but the passion and frustration with which she’s doing it this time almost knocks Vanessa off balance.

Is she…? No.

They reach the section where they’re in hold but showing off the footwork. Vanessa doesn’t do it all, only makes sure she’s connecting legs with Brooke for the Ganchos, but it’s probably for the best as the eye contact they’re giving each other and the close proximity between their faces is almost burning. Part of Vanessa wants to look away it’s so intense, but they’re running the full dance and she did tell Brooke to give full energy so she has to hold up her end of that. They’re perfectly in sync the entire time, Brooke having memorised the choreography so well. Brooke lifts her to drag her across the floor and if Vanessa deliberately hooks her leg a little higher on Brooke’s waist then it’s simply a happy coincidence.

The next section flows well (Brooke makes a few little mistakes she’ll pull her up on) and when Brooke lifts Vanessa to spin her round her cheek is pressed against her chest and it sends a shockwave down Vanessa’s spine. Their faces are close again as they walk across the rehearsal room floor, Vanessa dipping down facing away from Brooke to extend her leg between Brooke’s open ones. Her arms lock around Brooke’s thighs for support and Brooke grips onto them as she helps her up, the power and force she uses when she spins Vanessa round and presses their foreheads together sending Vanessa up in flames. They’ve danced through these individual sections so many times but put together it’s almost too much. There’s an atmosphere in the air and Vanessa realises it’s the exact same as when they’d rehearsed the Salsa. They cross the floor once more and it reaches the point where Vanessa jumps up to straddle Brooke’s waist with both her legs. Brooke spins her round and Vanessa brings her arms up to cradle the back of her neck. As Brooke slows her spin she reaches the part where she’s meant to dip Vanessa, lower her to the ground, but she’s stopped dancing, electing instead to keep her eye contact steady and burning with Vanessa’s. Vanessa knows she should maybe lower one of her legs, or perhaps both of them, but she’s still got them both wrapped around Brooke’s waist and the fact Brooke’s still holding her without even so much as a tremble is too much. Brooke leans in, presses her forehead against Vanessa’s, and Vanessa can only hold her breath as Brooke squeezes her eyes shut. They’ve never been physically closer to each other and Vanessa knows she should do something, knows she should move the dance along, but her heart is begging Brooke to say something, to do something. She’d do it herself but making the first move didn’t seem to work out for her so great last time.

“Tell me that Sunday happened,” Brooke murmurs, and Vanessa’s heart stops. “Tell me you kissed me.”

Vanessa flushes red. Momentarily, she wonders if this is something Brooke’s doing to build chemistry between them during the dance. If it is then she’s quitting the entire show. Vanessa closes her own eyes, almost embarrassed to admit it. When she opens them, Brooke’s opened hers too and fuck, her eye contact is searing.

“I did,” she confirms. Then, because she’s petty and can’t let her off the hook easily, she raises her eyebrows. “But you never kissed back, remember?”

Vanessa sees the regret flash in Brooke’s eyes for only a second and then the sparkle is back. “No, that doesn’t sound like me. I don’t think that happened. Maybe I’m remembering it wrong though, maybe you need to remind me.”

Vanessa feels as if her synapses are melting. She’s basically being invited to kiss Brooke again, she’s confirming to her that it wasn’t a mistake, she wants it to happen again, that her pulling away the first time was…down to something else? She’s still not going to give Brooke what she wants that easily, though, so she cocks an eyebrow, tilts her head thoughtfully as she pulls back a little. “I’m sure you can remind yourself.”

Brooke doesn’t look deterred by this. She shrugs, fixes Vanessa with a soft smirk. “Okay.”

When Brooke gently leans in and meets Vanessa’s lips with hers, Vanessa is sure she sees fireworks going off in the dark of her closed eyes. She feels them too, they’re happening in every cell of her body because Brooke is voluntarily kissing her and she doesn’t know what this means but she’s going to take a wild guess and say that maybe, just maybe, Brooke likes her back after all. Brooke kisses like she dances- passionate, careful, fucking perfect. As Vanessa kisses back she’s trying not to speed things along, trying to make the moment last as long as she can, but it’s hard not to be eager and urgent and to kiss Brooke with a hunger she hadn’t known she was in possession of until now. She’s brought her hands around from the back of Brooke’s neck- one tangled in her hair, the other softly cupping her cheek- and she tries to channel all her gentleness into them, stroking her skin with her thumb gently as if Brooke is breakable and fragile like the moment they’re sharing.

It’s Vanessa who pulls away first (if only so she doesn’t give Brooke the upper hand of being the first one to pull away twice) and, as she’s depositing herself back on the floor to stand up, she can’t help but break out into a smile because Brooke is blushing and beaming at her and her arms are still wrapped around her waist.

Vanessa doesn’t really know what to say. That…happened. She’s confused, though. Just over twenty-four hours ago Brooke had been pulling away, not pulling her in. Vanessa thinks it’s almost too good to be true.

“Can we talk about all this?” Vanessa says before her brain has a chance to weigh up if it’s a good idea or not. Brooke’s smile falters and Vanessa feels guilty. “Not in a bad way, I just…like, my head is mush.”

“No, no, I get it. Of course we can,” Brooke nods, slides her arms away from Vanessa’s waist. “Here? Or in the canteen? We could go back to mine but it’s a bit far away.”

Vanessa pulls on her oversized jumper and then the green parka she’d wrapped herself up in to protect from the November cold. “I know a place.”

Vanessa drags the pair of them onto the tube and they travel to the Thames embankment, where they stop off at a nearby chippy to grab a styrofoam carton of chips each. The atmosphere between them has shifted- gone are the frosty silences and short conversations. Instead the two of them talk easily, bicker and laugh and flirt about nothing in particular. Vanessa knows they’ll talk things through once they’re comfortable so she settles on rolling her eyes at Brooke making fish puns in the middle of the chip shop (“when you said you knew a place I didn’t think you meant an ACTUAL plaice”). It’s quiet on the embankment, locals all home from work and tourists preferring the pull of the Houses of Parliament or the Eye across the river, so they don’t pass many people and they ones they do pass don’t seem to recognise them. Everything is calm and relaxed and easy, like the inky sky and the clean cold of the air and the smooth surface of the river that’s opposite them as they find a bench with only a few small puddles of water on it and settle down. Vanessa’s heart is thumping hard in her chest as Brooke sits down beside her, sitting diagonally so she can see her as they discuss things. It’s a small thing that Vanessa notices and appreciates.

“So,” Brooke says around a particularly hot chip, her mouth making an ‘o’ and steam flying out of it. “You wanted to talk.”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Cept now we’re here I don’t really know what to say.”

“Do you want me to start?”

Vanessa shrugs, bites into a chip delicately. “If you wanna.”

“Okay, well,” Brooke begins, then looks out to the river. The lights of the Eye are reflected in her own, blues and reds meeting greens and creating a kaleidoscope from which Vanessa never wants to look away. She pauses and takes a deep breath before meeting Vanessa’s eyes. “I’m really sorry for hurting your feelings on Sunday. If you’d kissed me in literally any other context, I wouldn’t have reacted like that. Honestly. I just…didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

Vanessa gives a laugh. She’s confused. “Take advantage?”

“No, I don’t mean like that, I mean…” Brooke frowns as she’s searching for the right words. It’s kind of adorable. “You were upset, you’d had a shit week. The music was all sad and you were crying and then you kissed me and I…didn’t want you to be doing that just because you felt upset. I didn’t want you to do that and then think you’d made a mistake.”

Vanessa pauses. She hasn’t considered that Brooke might have thought Vanessa would regret kissing her. To her the idea is so ridiculous that it almost makes her want to laugh but she doesn’t, because this means that Brooke was overthinking their kiss and trying to talk herself out of the idea of Vanessa possibly liking her back.

Now don’t that sound familiar.

Vanessa tries to stifle a smile as she tilts her head to look at Brooke. “It wasn’t a mistake, baby, I meant the whole damn thing.”

She wants to squeal when Brooke’s face breaks out into an enormous grin, one that Vanessa is sure must hurt her face. Vanessa likes the fact that Brooke is talking, likes the fact she’s saying everything first because it means she gets to hold her guard up just that little bit longer before this girl tears it down and even though she’s ready for that, it doesn’t mean she isn’t ever so slightly scared of it.

“So, uh…” Vanessa asks her, her tone light and teasing. Brooke crosses her legs and Vanessa has to try to stop herself getting any ideas. “That cast member you got a crush on. You gonna tell me who it is now?”

Brooke bursts out laughing, tipping her head back and lacing her hand with Vanessa’s at the same time. “Shut up. Are you really going to make me say it?”

Vanessa simply raises her eyebrows at Brooke, lets her know she’s waiting on her answer. Brooke gives another laugh as she gives in. “Fine! Well…she’s one of the dancers.”

“Uh huh.”

“I saw her on the induction day and I thought she was hot. We had a bit of a flirt and it was all fun and games. Then I followed her on Instagram because I was thirsty. Thought for ages about how to slide into her DMs but I was too much of a scaredy cat so I just commented on one of her pics instead,” Brooke continues to explain. Her admission makes Vanessa giggle, sends her heart leaping into the air because oh my God, Brooke had wanted to talk to her before the series even started too. She was thinking about Vanessa for the same amount of time Vanessa had been thinking about her. “Then it got to the intro show and I was like…screaming inside. I knew I wanted to be partnered with her, I knew even before the induction day because she’s so, so good at what she does. In fact, she needs to believe in herself more, but that’s besides the point. Anyway, we got paired up. I was so fucking ecstatic that night. She drunk-texted me and I actually lay in bed squealing and flailing like a teenage girl because I got so excited that she was thinking of me.”

Brooke is so animated when she’s talking about her crush. Her. She’s talking about her, and Vanessa is so happy and emotional she almost wants to cry but that would be peak pathetic so she squeezes Brooke’s hand instead, the hand that’s still entwined with hers.

“I keep growing closer to her and finding out more about her and she trusts me with stories about her life, trusts me to fling her body around the rehearsal studios despite the fact I’m so fucking clumsy I could drop something that’s superglued to my hand-“

“Stop lyin’, shut up,” Vanessa rolls her eyes at Brooke’s self-deprecation, and Brooke gives a gentle snort of a laugh.

“- And I just keep liking her more and more with every day,” Brooke smiles at her, her face all dreamy and dazed as if she’s sleepwalking. It suddenly snaps into a smirk, her eyes dark and playful, and it’s Vanessa’s turn to cross her legs. “And she doesn’t help any of it by looking like a Gymshark model and sticking her cute little butt out any time we rehearse.”

Vanessa screeches out an outraged laugh which Brooke’s quick to join in with. “Hey, I had to get your attention somehow!”

As their laughter dies down Vanessa fixes Brooke with a smile, scoots closer to her on the bench. “So go on, then. What’s her name?”

Brooke pulls Vanessa close with the hand she’s holding and when she says Vanessa’s name in response she feels worshipped. Suddenly, Brooke’s eyes fly open a little in what seems like panic. “Sorry. Fuck. That was all too much, wasn’t it?”

“Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa laughs. “I’ve had the most huge, embarrassin’ fuckin’ crush on you since God knows when. I really like you. Chill.”

Brooke’s still got a soft little smile on her face and it makes Vanessa wants to kiss her again so much so she pushes the images of long lens cameras out of her mind for the moment and leans in, kisses Brooke soft and gentle and slow and Vanessa doesn’t think she’ll ever get bored of the way Brooke kisses her back.

When Vanessa pulls away she’s right beside Brooke on the bench, so she slings an arm around her waist and rests her head against her chest for good measure. It’s still cold outside but Vanessa hopes that isn’t the only reason for Brooke cuddling her back, linking their hands together like a little chain. Vanessa’s happy, but her mind is still full of thoughts.

“How good are you at keeping secrets?”

“Depends what it is,” Brooke replies. Vanessa tilts her head up before she speaks again because this is important, she needs to see Brooke’s reaction and make sure she says this in the right way.

“I can’t do the whole…paparazzi, me-in-the-papers, invasion-of-privacy thing again. It was bad enough when me an’ Kam broke up,” she begins, and Brooke nods understandingly. “So I guess what I’m askin’ is…can we be careful? Whatever ‘we’ is. I don’t know yet but I don’t mind just figuring things out along the way.”

Brooke nods slowly, taking things in. “So you want to keep us secret for now?”

“Just until the show ends,” Vanessa reassures her, tries to ignore the triple somersault her heart does at the word ‘us’. “I don’t want people thinkin’ it’s a publicity stunt or tryin’ to take attention away from the other couples or anythin’ like that. Also I don’t want this getting ruined for us.”

Vanessa’s heart stands still as Brooke thinks for a second. She’s relieved when a grin spreads across her face. “Can I still flirt with you on Instagram? That’s fun.”

“Flirt with me anywhere you want, boo.”

“God, you know I’m so going to play into this? Think of all those fan accounts for us all those fourteen year olds run. They’re going to implode,” Brooke smiles, bouncing in her seat on the bench excitedly. It’s so endearing it makes Vanessa smile more than she already is. Her heart is still fluttering nervously; there’s butterflies trapped in there and as long as Brooke is holding her hand and smiling at her like that with her eyes all soft Vanessa is not really sure if they’ll ever go away. She doesn’t care, though.

They stay on the bench for a while until their chips are finished. Brooke takes a photo of Vanessa who smiles brightly at the camera, carton of chips in her lap and her hair all messy over her shoulders but she doesn’t even care because she’s happy, so happy and relieved and when they walk back to the station together it feels like she’s walking on little clouds. They don’t kiss goodbye because it’s busier in the station but Brooke does sneak a peck against her neck when they hug and it makes Vanessa feel gooey inside. When Vanessa gets home that night she has both an Instagram tag and two messages from Brooke. She opens the message first.

B: I’m so glad we talked, I had the best time tonight. Can’t wait until I can take you on a proper date!! See you tomorrow cutie xxxxxx

B: (Sorry if cutie is ick I’m just going to try out a bunch of pet names because I can xxxxxx)

Vanessa feels her heart almost burst open at everything Brooke’s said to her. The confirmation that she enjoyed her company, the promise of a date, the pet name (which she definitely won’t say no to). It’s all like a big hug for her mind which had previously been exhausted with overthinking. Vanessa doesn’t realise how much she’s smiling at her screen as she types out her reply until it physically hurts her face.

V: me too. you’re so amazing. for ref i like Zoilo if we going bougie or Franco Manca if we broke. cutie gets seal of approval from me… u a bit of a cutie urself xxxxxx

Before she gets ready for bed that night she decides to open up Instagram to see what Brooke has tagged her in. It’s the photo of her on the bench from earlier, and Vanessa wants to blush at how happy and smiley she looks. She scrolls to Brooke’s caption, and if she wasn’t blushing before she’s definitely blushing now.

bhytes: Post-rehearsal chips by the river with this diamond. I could get used to this. 🧡

Their fans are in meltdown in the comments, and Vanessa is melting herself.

Saturday comes quicker than Vanessa wants it to. It’s maybe because she never wants her time with Brooke to end whether that’s on or off the show. They’ve done full runs of their dance each day, the pair of them sneaking kisses with each other sometimes even mid-dance.

“You know we need to stop doin’ that, right?” Vanessa warns Brooke with a smile after Brooke kisses all down her neck mid-Tango in a bid to wind her up (she’d succeeded, and if Vanessa might need to take a cold shower later that’s nobody’s business but her own.)

“Why?”

“Because we’re gonna end up doin’ it on the night an’ then the cat’s outta the bag after what, three days?”

Vanessa doesn’t miss the way Brooke runs her tongue over her lips a little. She’s got a smirk on her face as she pulls her in close, slides her hands down her sides and hooks her fingers over the waistband of her leggings. “Well if you are going to keep wearing things that make your butt look so good, I am going to find it hard to stop kissing you.”

Brooke snaps the elastic of her waistband and Vanessa feels a fire ignite low in her stomach. She’s not told Brooke that she was the girl from her sex dream, she’s been saving that information for another day. She wonders when that day’s going to come, though. If Vanessa had her way she would lock the rehearsal room door, throw herself at Brooke and practically beg the girl to raw her, but she doesn’t know what Brooke’s thinking or feeling and Vanessa doesn’t want to risk ruining the high levels of sexual tension they’ve cultivated over roughly a month by asking her when they’re only 24 hours away from performing another incredibly sexy dance. By Saturday night the pair of them are ready to perform and their biggest challenge, Vanessa thinks, will be to try and act as if they’ve not started seeing each other and are in the complete honeymoon phase of whatever it is they are.

And soon enough Vanessa is sitting on a chair in the middle of the ballroom floor dressed in a long sparkling nude-effect dress with a split up its side, facing away from Brooke who’s in black tailored suit trousers and a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves buttoned up to the neck and an undone bow tie around it. The audience are silent as their VT plays, and then the familiar voice of the commentator is booming overhead.

“Dancing the Argentine Tango…Brooke Lynn Hytes and Vanessa Mateo!”

There’s four clicks of drumsticks smacking together before the music starts and the pair of them hit the first beats of the dance. There’s even more electricity between them now and when Brooke grabs her arm, reels her in with the napkin, pulls her close so their bodies are pressed against each other, Vanessa feels as if she’s burning up inside. They added in a little bit of choreo after their kiss and their riverbank date on Wednesday night, and Vanessa’s back is to the audience and the cameras as she gives Brooke a wink, hooks her fingers around each side of the lapels on Brooke’s shirt.

“I’m tellin’ you to loosen up my buttons, babe, uh-huh-”

Vanessa rips the velcro she knows the costume designers have concealed in the lapels and reveals a little strip of Brooke’s chest, her collarbones exposed. The roar that goes up from the audience in response has Vanessa feeling as if they’re dancing in a football stadium rather than the ballroom at Elstree. The shirt isn’t even open enough to expose any of Brooke’s cleavage but Vanessa suddenly realises how people in old-timey costume dramas feel when they see a woman’s ankle. As they press their foreheads together and cross the ballroom floor Vanessa finds it hard not to break character and smile like an idiot at Brooke Lynn, the girl that likes her back, the girl that maybe one day she’ll get to call her girlfriend, the girl that she can kiss any time she likes. She could technically kiss her now as she drops to the floor and Brooke comes with her, still holding her hand with her arm around her waist, but she focuses on getting the Ganchos right because they need a good score. Vanessa needs to show Brooke, show the judges, show every fucking person watching at home that she is a force to be reckoned with, that she can teach and choreograph and make Brooke progress.

Still, it’s hard not to just reach her lips forward and press them against Brooke’s as she drags her across the floor, Vanessa making sure to get her leg as high as it’ll go on her waist just to show Brooke what she’s capable of. As Brooke lifts her up and spins her, Vanessa sneaks a look at the judges’ table. Bianca is watching impassively as usual, Shangela is smiling from ear to ear, Kennedy is screaming and Laganja is leaning almost over the desk, her mouth wide open.

If ever there was a desired reaction to her choreography, it’s probably that.

There’s a point in the middle of the dance where the two of them pause in hold and just give each other an incredibly lingering look. Vanessa doesn’t have to act for this section and as she slowly brings her eyes up from Brooke’s chest to meet her gaze, she feels her knees turn ever-so-slightly weak as she catches the hunger, passion and fire in the other girl’s eyes.

If they don’t get at least 35 in this, Vanessa is going to quit the show and take Brooke with her.

Vanessa can hear the screams from one of the judges as she and Brooke walk slowly across the dancefloor with their hands cradling the back of each others’ necks. Brooke gracefully lowers her to the floor and pulls her up again, Vanessa making sure to press their bodies tight together once she’s in front of her. She catches the way Brooke’s eyes grow ever so slightly wide and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t fill her with a sense of pride. They get to the part that makes Vanessa’s pulse speed up every time- her legs wrapped around Brooke’s waist, Brooke spinning her around- because of all the memories attached to it. This time Brooke doesn’t kiss her, though- she dips her down one way then the other with her strong arms supporting Vanessa’s back.

Vanessa feels safer in Brooke’s arms than she’s ever felt with any six-packed, world-champion male partner. But of course, she knows exactly why that is.

The dance is coming to an end and Vanessa puts her all into walking Brooke back, her hand against her chest. Brooke sits down in the chair, spreads her legs before reaching out and letting Vanessa twirl into her arms, where she leans into her and wraps her arms around Brooke. She knows she’s got her chest pushed right up in Brooke’s face and all she’ll probably be able to smell is her perfume, but Vanessa doesn’t really mind and she’s got a feeling Brooke doesn’t either. As the final notes of the music ring through the studio, the audience are yelling and clapping the place down. Vanessa doesn’t even know if Brooke made any mistakes and at this point she doesn’t care because they did that dance proud, she knows they did, and as Brooke wraps her arms tight around her waist Vanessa feels her press a kiss to her collarbone that makes her giddy. Vanessa squeals with happiness and she feels Brooke pick her up in their hug and walk her over to where Michelle is standing. As they finally break apart she can see the smile on Brooke’s face. Vanessa throws caution to the wind a little, plants both her hands on either side of Brooke’s face so that her eyes are firmly locked on her own.

“We did it, baby,” she whispers to her, and she’s not even sure it’ll be audible over the cheers of the crowd but Brooke nods rapidly in happiness and Vanessa knows she’s been heard.

Michelle finally manages to pry Brooke off of her and get some form of reaction about how she feels the dance went.

“Oh my God, it felt amazing,” Brooke smiles. She’s laced her arm around Vanessa’s waist and Vanessa’s done the same, and Brooke gives her a little squeeze and a smile down at her as she continues. “We’ve obviously had a bit of a crazy week…you know, Vanessa coming back from her injury, but she’s just such a great person and such a great teacher that she still managed to recover and teach me all this, and I’m just so grateful for her. I’m so glad I’ve got her back. She’s not allowed to leave me again!”

Michelle laughs as Brooke puts her other arm around Vanessa to hug her, and Vanessa happily reciprocates.

“Vanessa, how do you think Brooke Lynn got on this week?”

Vanessa pries herself out from under Brooke’s arm and simply smiles up at her in response. “She knows how amazin’ I think she is, I’m gonna let the judges tell her instead.”

Michelle gives another laugh and so do some of the judges. Vanessa doesn’t miss the single raised eyebrow that Bianca shoots towards her. Her stomach dips. Maybe they hadn’t been as good as she’d thought…?

“Speaking of judges- Bianca, let’s come to you first. How did Brooke do?”

“Well…” there’s a silence as Bianca shuffles her notes a little. Vanessa feels her heart stand still. “I thought…that it was absolutely brilliant.”

The audience erupts. Vanessa is so shocked and happy that she can’t help the grin that breaks out on her face, and she and Brooke both instantly reach for each other to hug. There’s a rare smile to Bianca’s voice as she continues. “Brooke Lynn, there’s one thing that Vanessa can’t teach you, in fact nobody can teach it, and that’s chemistry. The chemistry you had with Plastique last week was great but the chemistry you have with Vanessa is incredible. The Argentine is all about that, it’s the passion and the fire, and you encapsulated that so well. Watch with the Ganchos that your feet are pointed all the way down, we should have a full 180 degrees there which I know you can do because I’ve seen it before- and it should be more of a light motion, you’re not churning butter…but other than that, a great job this week, well done.”

Vanessa looks up at Brooke and she’s still smiling as Michelle comes onto Shangela. She and Kennedy both give them glowing praise, the pair of them also mentioning the chemistry between them, and then it’s Laganja’s turn. The audience are already giggling in anticipation- they know she’s theatrical, and her reaction is going to be big. Vanessa watches as she sits composed in her chair, narrows her eyes, and points at them both with her pen.

“Is there…something going on…?” she asks. Vanessa feels her hand tighten around Brooke’s waist. She clenches her teeth together as she smiles. Fuck. Have they been too obvious? Laganja pauses dramatically as Brooke gives a laugh Vanessa can tell is fake. “I mean…first that American Smooth, and then that Viennese, and now THIS? Is there something in the air tonight, Fernando?!”

Vanessa lets out a relieved laugh as Laganja references Gigi and Crystal and Jan and Jackie’s dances, realises she’s not asking specifically about her and Brooke.

“LADIES, ma’am, I don’t have any earthly words for what I just witnessed!! The connection you two have is just incomparable…Brooke, you’ve been so great the past two weeks but I can tell you’re at your most comfortable and your happiest when you’re dancing with Vanessa, it’s like you’re here, you’ve arrived! This is elevated, mama! I don’t know if you could hear me screaming when you dragged Vanessa across the floor-”

“New Zealand heard that scream, Laganja,” Bianca cuts in deadpan, and the audience laughs.

“- yes thank you, Simon Cowell! Maybe your feet weren’t as pointed as they could’ve been during the Ganchos- you know what, I honestly don’t care! I wasn’t looking at your feet! I spent that entire dance wondering if you were going to smooch each others’ faces off midway through!”

Vanessa bursts out laughing as she feels Brooke do the same beside her. They’re both squeezing each others’ sides for dear life. If they only fucking knew.

“Great job, Brooke, and Vanessa- welcome back, ma, that’s how you return after an injury.”

The audience clap them as Michelle sends them upstairs, and Vanessa’s hand is tight in Brooke’s as they run up to the Divinatorium and are greeted by Divina herself. She interviews the pair of them but Vanessa can hardly speak, she’s practically vibrating with excitement beside her partner. Their comments were so encouraging, the best they’ve had. Brooke’s never had a 10 from any of the judges before. Maybe tonight is the night?

“Will the judges please reveal their scores. Bianca Del Rio.”

Vanessa’s screaming before Bianca can even speak, because there, on the paddle, is an, “Eight!”

Brooke’s arm flies around her waist in a hug but Vanessa can’t yet accept it, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Kennedy Davenport.”

“Nine!” she says happily, and Vanessa is so happy that she can almost feel tears stinging her eyes.

“Shangela Wadely.”

“Nine!” she beams at the camera, sticking her paddle into the air. Vanessa’s heart lifts itself up into the rafters as the camera pans to Laganja’s seat. She gave them the most favourable critiques. Maybe…?

“Laganja Estranja.”

“I hope y’all are ready for this…TEN!” she screeches as she stands up, and Vanessa can barely take in the amount of things that happen at once. Her pulse skyrockets, Brooke practically leaps on her in her haste to wrap her in a hug, the other couples are screaming and cheering and clapping for them, and her eyes basically spring a leak. She has no idea why she’s so emotional but Jesus Christ, she’s allowed to be after the past few weeks she’d had. Laganja thought their dance was a ten. A perfect ten. Flawless. Impeccable. They’re second on the leaderboard behind Jan and Jackie (who scored thirty-eight). Vanessa feels like running back down the stairs and kissing the judges, never mind Brooke Lynn beside her.

But of course, the thought of kissing Brooke is one that isn’t too far away, and they’re walking down the corridors, laughing and chatting after their reaction interview and about to go back to makeup when Brooke slows beside her dressing room door, laces her hands in Vanessa’s.

“Um…” she casts her eyes downwards, and when she meets Vanessa’s gaze again there’s a little glint in her eye that makes Vanessa squeeze her thighs together. Brooke puts on her very best, professional, TV presenter voice as she talks. “Vanessa. Would you mind helping me with something for two minutes in my dressing room?”

Vanessa almost feels her pupils blow as Brooke gently tugs her in. The moment she steps through the dressing room door Brooke wastes no time in closing it, spinning her round and pressing her up against it as she crashes their lips together. Vanessa has to stop herself from sliding down the door, feeling like a snowman in July as Brooke’s soft lips press against hers and her tongue licks gently into her mouth. If Brooke’s tongue can make her feel this weak when they’re just kissing, Vanessa almost doesn’t dare think about how good it could feel elsewhere.

Vanessa can give as good as she gets though, and she likes to have the upper hand so she drops her lips to Brooke’s neck, presses frantic kisses down down down to her collarbone where she sucks at the skin, bites ever so gently then licks over the mark she’s just created, kissing hard against it once, twice, three times before she feels Brooke lean down to murmur into her ear.

“That better not’ve left a mark.”

Vanessa’s spine feels like an electricity pylon. “Does it feel like it didn’t leave a mark?”

Her breath hitches as Brooke slams her knee in between her thighs, cages her in. Brooke’s voice is a low whisper as she kisses her neck, making Vanessa whine. “You’re so bad, fuck.”

“You like it when I’m bad, huh?” Vanessa teases, dropping both her hands to Brooke’s waist as she bucks her hips against her. The friction has got her feeling tightly wound and she needs more, way more than this.

“God, yes,” Brooke sighs, brings her mouth back up to kiss her again. It’s not as frantic as their first; this time it’s slow, teasing, and driving Vanessa absolutely insane. They’ve not talked about this, where this is going to go, and Vanessa doesn’t want to assume anything but still…Brooke’s got her in a pretty compromising position. She’s still going to check though, so she pulls back, murmurs against Brooke’s lips as she places both her hands on either side of her jaw.

“What do you want, baby?”

Brooke gives a sigh mixed up with a gasp as Vanessa trails a finger down her neck, stops it at her chest right where her shirt’s buttoned up. “Ah…want you to-”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Vanessa launches herself away from the door, almost jumps into Brooke’s arms Scooby-Doo style in shock. Brooke’s got her arms around Vanessa, her eyes equally wide and her mouth just as slack-jawed. She steps away quickly as whoever’s behind the door starts speaking.

“Brooke Lynn? You and Vanessa are needed in makeup.”

Vanessa can see Brooke swallowing thickly, the rise and fall of her chest as she tries to compose herself. The very sight of that alone makes Vanessa’s mouth dry. “Okay, no worries! We’ll be down soon!”

The pair of them stand in the dressing room in silence listening to the sound of the runner walking away. It’s funny- the pair of them sneaking around like they’re in high school or some shit, and it makes Vanessa press her lips together in an attempt to stifle a laugh. She looks at Brooke Lynn, who’s got much the same expression on her face. It’s Brooke that cracks first, and soon the pair of them are standing giggling together.

“Nothing like getting the absolute shit scared out of us to really kill the mood,” Brooke laughs softly, reaching out and tucking a piece of Vanessa’s hair behind her ear that has come loose from its bun. Vanessa smiles, sighing a little and taking her hand.

“We should go. It’ll be a batterin’ ram next.”

“Right,” Brooke shrugs a little, stroking the back of Vanessa’s hand with her thumb. Vanessa can see she’s holding something back and just as she’s about to ask her what it is, Brooke meets her eyes. “You think we’re going through to Blackpool?”

Vanessa has almost forgotten what week it is next week; where the dancers all travel up to the iconic Blackpool Tower ballroom for one night away from Elstree. They pull out all the stops that night and they’re allowed backup dancers and even sometimes a set instead of just props. She tilts her head in thought- the fact that by the end of tonight there’ll be just six of them left in the competition is wild to her, the whole thing is going so quickly. She can see in Brooke’s eyes that she’s not forgotten, though, the nerves almost visibly clouding her vision, so Vanessa leans up and presses a soft kiss to her lips and feels Brooke relax against her.

She pulls away and shoots Brooke a soft grin. “After that performance? You might as well start packing your case, baby.”

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #bet you look good on the dancefloor #strictly au #lesbian au #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #monique heart #bianca del rio #laganja estranja

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missbecky · 4 years

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Okay, time for another long post about a cool weird thing that happened with my cards last night. I still don't know how I feel about deities, I don't know that I'll ever worship one, as that's just not me to worship. But I have felt as though there was an entity, goddess, force, something trying to reach me. Any time I've tried to glean information on who it was, I kept getting a door slammed in my face. I kept getting messages that I wasn't ready. And I was totally fine with that.

I'm unemployed right now, I'm a single mom, and I live with my disabled mother to help take care of her. With COVID-19, we don't take chances as my mom is in the high risk category. What that all means is that I've had way too much time on my hands. So I've been like a sponge, soaking up all the knowledge I can when it comes to witchcraft. Not being ready wasn't that big of a deal, because it just meant I got to do more research and keep putting off stuff I didn't really want to do.

Yesterday, I did my daily card draw, and the message was suddenly way different. Change has always been in the messages, but also the stopping in order to be ready for the changes. Yesterday morning I drew the the star, the chariot, and the hanged man reversed. I took that as a go for it.

Later that day I was prowling all the research servers, and the went to Google something about deities, and found an article/blog post someone had written about wishing people would stop using a very specific tarot spread for deity identification. Naturally, I decide to do that very spread. It was a five card spread, I wrote down what I wanted to know, and started shuffling. I shuffled for what felt like forever, and then when I laid the cards out, without thinking, I laid out 7. At first I was going to put the last two back, but decided to leave them. And the cards were all over the place. But I looked at it, and thought, "whoa, whoever this is, is not messing around.

So this is what I laid out.

Before I get into breaking down what these cards meant and how each one directly correlates to one specific deity, I want to point out where my head was at going into this.

I basically really actually got started with everything like 2 weeks ago. I'm basically still a newborn, right? Anyway, as soon as I start researching, I keep getting drawn to Deities. That's weird because I'm an agnostic and basically have no interest in higher powers. If they're there cool, if not cool. I have always believed that if there is some kind of being that could mold and shape the world, then my puny human brain can't comprehend them anyway, and it's really none of my concern. So, it's been really strange that this repeatedly keeps sticking out for me. I get the distinct impression that whatever energy is reaching out to me is female, a tie to the moon, the feeling of 3 was there, I knew it had to be associated with motherhood, and just a general overall feel of the empowerment of women. Naturally, I just kind of assumed Hecate, but that never actually felt correct to me.

So the 3 of cups being the first card just kind of reinforced the sense of 3 to me, and the whole sisterhood aspects of women empowering women. I wrote down 3, sisterhood, and good times. In the spread that was supposed to be 5 cards (and I did 7), the first card was supposed to sum up who the deity was.

I love my tarot deck for the strength card the most, I think. Strength is a mama bear. Again, this confirms my feeling of being tied to motherhood. The second card was supposed to represent the deities weakness. I wrote mama bear, power, and overly protective.

The third card was the chariot, and according to the spread this was their strength, their power. I wrote down action, strength, determination, will-power.

Then I get to the 4th card, the lovers. This is supposed to be what they rule. This one had me scratching my head. Now the author said this one will be harder to figure out, because the deities could even try to be snarky with this. I didn't even know what to do with this card, but like it made sense later. As I was going through each card individually, however, I came up with nothing, and in turn wrote nothing.

Card 5 was to be their symbol or association, and I had drawn 7 card. Anyway, I began analyzing the reversed hierophant, and the reversed 2 of cups. By that point I'm feeling personally attacked. And then the King of swords felt like a slap in the face. Words like logical, smart, level headed came up, which is honestly the person I've always prided myself on being. What was that person doing trying to contact a deity? I basically had to stop and ask myself wtf I was doing.

Like all shadow work, I decided to go browse the internet to distract myself from having to think about it too much. So I start googling triple Goddess and love, even though the lovers definitely didn't feel right, I'm like what the hell? Why not? Hecate and Diana come up, well that's not right. So I decide to take away the triple deciding I could just be way off base with the whole 3 thing. So I Google goddess of female empowerment and found a list of badass goddesses, and Artemis stuck out to me. But I'm like, no, that can't be right. This peace loving hippie couldn't possibly identify with the goddess of the hunt (which was the extent of my knowledge about Artemis). I then Google goddess of sisterhood, envisioning a woman running with a girl gang fucking shit up. What the fuck do you know, but that is Artemis.

After that Google search, I decide I clearly don't know enough about Artemis, and had recently downloaded some Greek mythology books, have never had the slightest interest in Greek mythology, but I saved them in my Google drive just in case. After finding out a bit about Artemis from Google, I turned to the digital books I had.

It was crazy how each of the cards began actually tying into the mythology of Artemis. She traveled with like a gang of nymphs, which I'm sure there was some sisterhood there. She helped her mother deliver her twin brother, and became like the patron God of childbirth. She defended babies and Young girls. She only ever wanted to belong to herself and so she requested everlasting virginity. From what I read she was very protective, straight up murdered rapists, and she was strong to a fault, which made sense why the strength card was listed as weakness. Apollo challenged her to hit a target way out in the ocean that she couldn't see, telling her she couldn't do it, she did it to prove she could and there was no better sharpshooter than her. The target was Orion, the only person she ever loved. So the reversed two of cards made sense. The reversed hierophant made sense because she was not traditional, she went against the grain. Her story is far from ordinary, even by mythological standards. She was a straight up badass that lived life on her terms and no one else's. There's nothing more rebellious than a woman with such control of her own life and destiny. And of course the chariot would be her strength identification, she was nothing but action oriented. The lovers could be interpreted several ways, but I take it as a woman who loves herself so fiercely she had no need for any other kind. But also when I think of love, I don't think of romantic love, I think of the bond i share with my daughter. She fiercely loved her brother, and maybe because she helped with his birth it connected her to him similar to that of a mother and child? That of course speculation. But the lovers card could also be a jab at her eternal virginity. And the King of swords sounded exactly like Artemis.

So I'm convinced this spread is talking about Artemis, but I can't shake the aspect of 3. Can't let that one go. Don't know why. So I'm looking through the l The Greek Myths by Robert Graves, and in it he speculated that Artemis was in fact a triad/triple Goddess!!!

Needless to say, I lost my fucking shit after reading that one. I was right in what I felt about what traits I felt the energy having, and the fucking spread related with every gd card.

Oh, and apparently Artemis chose to spend most of her time in the mountains. One of my favorite thing in all of the things is the mountains of Colorado, second only to my daughter, and I even identify as connected with earth elements the most because of my love for mountains. Makes me wonder how long Artemis has been trying to get my attention 😉

Anyway, I don't know what this all means to me personally yet. I've been ridiculously drained today, it's already 11 pm, and I only just now felt like I had enough energy and focus to write this out. So haven't had much time to sit with everything I experienced and felt last night.

However, it was very exciting! And I had to share my experience!

#witchcraft #witch community #tarot #witchblr #magick #Artemis #deity #deity work

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allet-space · 4 years

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I try to contextualize the weird flashback scenes in the promo: The Novel

Let’s asses the ending and potential continuation in the finale logically to calm the impeding sense of doom that I feel we all feel:

-The promo indicates that Steven will be heading to Homeworld

-Steven’s behavior after being pressured into speeding up time was to run away from the CGs. He doesn’t have his powers much under control, rather he likely feels he’s lost even more control. He only came back to heal Jasper. It is likely he will be wasting next to no time at home and instead try to immedietly leave. He doesn’t want to endanger anyone.

-The pink White Diamond indicates Homeworld won’t be what he hoped. The promo shows him in the house while looking all innocent but powered up. If this is before leaving for Homeworld, it might be the last push, having everyone see that less than optimal side of him. If it’s after, then he heads to Homeworld and comes back as someone else.

-Likely the diamonds show him how to deal with his powers how they always did: which is, uhh, badly. Spinel is there, but her history with Steven isn’t all that great and with Steven’s fragile state, he can’t guide them. He needs guidance himself. I doubt Spinel will be on board with the diamond’s bullshit, but that’s a 50/50. Either way I find it unlikely that she will be able to sway things for the better. We can safely assume Homeworld teaches Steven the wrong things and the diamonds only manage to twist him further, with an intense event such as pink White Diamond proving to him and really hammering home that they’re no help.

-I’ve seen people theorize WD tries to take back the pink powers and fails to control them, which would be a good example for such an event. Perhaps she is just reminded of that feeling and goes into pink mode herself, and that makes Steven realize not even the diamonds can help him without him hurting them. Both are plausible, and end with Steven leaving in despair, his last option exhausted.

-Steven returns, most likely in his, and I hate to call it that, chad state. In the promo we hear him say “I help people, I don’t hurt them.” Which is very, very ironic considering HE LITERALLY SHTTERED JASPER. I’m still not 100% convinced that it wasn’t just all a collective feverdream that we all had because that can’t be real.

-Anyway so he returns looking not like our son, and talking down what happened and what he can do in that state. This indicates to me that White Diamond got to him, badly. Messing with Steven’s head isn’t easy: Usually it’s Steven messing with other people (usually with good intentions, but he changes people’s beliefs with ease none the less). The only time we see Steven being messed with is Jasper, and before, White Diamond.

-Out of all gems, she managed to stab him in his weak spot with just a few words in the way we usually see Steven do. So much so that he does actually start questioning himself. He starts questioning everything he ever knew, everything he ever believed. He starts questioning whether he really is Rose, Pink, his reasoning against her comes slow, quiet, and with a weak and unsure voice... until Connie yells at Steven not to listen to her. Out of EVERYONE, if ANYONE can change Steven’s beliefs - and they’re already on the edge after all the stuff Jasper hammered into his poor brain - it’s White Diamond.

-And yeah the diamonds have good intentions, and they follow after Steven and all that. But that’s just it. HE is asking THEM for help. HIS methods, by that logic, or perhaps the diamonds think it’s logical, AREN’T WORKING. So of course they help him their way, because that’s the only way they CAN help him.

-White Diamond is going to talk to him, perhaps in a similar way that Jasper did before they started training. He asks for guidance, he gets guidance. White Diamond is going to fill his confused and guidance-deprived mind with HER philosophy during his weakest moments, and by the looks of it? It’s going to work. It’s very in character for her, and similar to what we’ve already seen. We know she can do this. We know she WILL do this if neccessary. And we know Steven will soak it all up like a sponge no matter WHAT she says.

-This indicates Steven is NOT at his lowest point. His lowest point will be brought fourth by whatever brainwash White Diamond does to him. And I’m afraid. Very, very afraid. Someone said that he might try to justify the Diamond’s actions towards pink, but honestly, it could be anything. He might try to play down what he did to Jasper, or really just show that his beliefs were changed or maybe he’s trying to convince himself that they have. He could justify his powers, or his pink state.

-I predict that while something happens at Homeworld to White Diamond, something to turn her pink, she manages to get to Steven and mess with him and implant some semblence of Homeworld’s old philosophy into him. Perhaps she even uses what happened to her as ANOTHER reason as to why she’s right. I do FULLY believe her capable to twist facts and events like that.

-We have the promo show us that everyone, INCLUDING Jasper, are very shocked to see something. Now the promos have a bad history of overplaying normal moments and not actually showing the ACTUAL intense moments. Last time we saw shock like that it was the famythist which we found out were just looking at holly blue, which makes it hard to believe that we got an actual serious moment.

-However, it would make sense everyone is in Mild Shock when their baby boy son returns looking like... that. Connie is there, so yes, I do think its safe to assume that this is AFTER Steven returns from Homeworld... though it’s also possible that this is right after Fragments, and this is everyone’s face when they find out Steven shattered Jasper. I’m just calling it now while I have the chance... but, moving on.

-He returns, everyone is in shock. He shows clear signs of acting NOT like his normal self at all and probably says a lot of bullshit.

-Now, judging by the promo... we also see him look at his reflection in surprise. I’m not sure if this is after his return, or shortly before. Shortly before it would be him simply seeing his powers are acting up, that he looks different, that he needs to leave, and perhaps that other scene happens before him leaving too. However, I would still place his misguided statements for after Homeworld.

-But then why is he surprised to see himself looking so much like Rose’s old form? Like Pink? My theory is that this may be one of his moments of realization. SOMEONE by dear god I DESPERATELY HOPE someone calls him out on what on earth he’s talking about and maybe even mentions his mother, making him see how much he is becoming like her, maybe making him pull back.

-HOWEVER, considering we are nearing a great climax and that would be nice... that might not actually be the case. Another possibility is that he only THEN notices HOW FAR HE’S GONE. Only THEN does he realize that he looks like a diamond, and maybe he doesn’t realize that White filled him with lies, but that what he is starting to believe in is Homeworld’s old philosophy. Which can go two ways. Either he questions whether White’s ideas really are right or, alternatively... he may even question whether the rebellion’s ideas are right. That would be a ride. Also Jasper would not help on that matter.

-We see flashbacks to the series, which is... concerning? Id rather they assume we know and have flashbacks be short clips like in Growing Pains, and this will likely be similar, but the clips will be a bit longer. And Id rather have new animation rather than flashbacks for the finale, but who knows! Maybe it’ll be a single scene like in Growing Pains.

-I SUSPECT that these clips, considering they have to do with the diamonds and Steven showing the Diamonds who he is, and TELLING them that they’re family, will be the flashbacks we see when White Diamond messes with Steven. This will be the evidence she will be using to sway him, with his own words, his own statements and actions. Which can be very, very effective.

-She may put emphasis on the fact that he has THREE main gems that always stood by his side, his close family, and insist he was missing the other three diamonds in his life. Especially since they’ve realized now, with Spinel, that that is possible at all. Or perhaps they BELIEVE that after spending time with Spinel, they think they know why Steven surrounded himself with those three gems.

-Then we have “Do you remember this place?” which may also be used by White Diamond to mess with him? Maybe show him that his gem family is flawed, or that even THEY think/thought that he was rose. Its intersting that Pearl says this bit. She knew all along, after all.

WOW THIS WAS A LONG POST

TLDR

-Steven comes out of bathroom, powers flourish, he goes to HW

-White Diamond uses the past and flashbacks and his own actions to fill his unsure brain with HW philosophy bullshit, maybe even using her pink mode as a reason, trying to make SURE Steven thinks its the only way if that pink mode is to never happen ever again (if he doesnt follow the philosophy, white would turn pink again and get hurt/hurt other gems)

-Steven comes back acting not like our beloved son but very different. He changes form and shocks everyone with his new appearance. Perhaps he himself only then realizes what he’s become?

-Corruption?? Monster???

-The key scenes are NOT in the promo. The entire promo is specifically from minor buildup scenes so we cant TRULY know what happens

#suf #suf theory #suf spoilers #suf promo 3 #su #steven universe future #bet u thought i was kidding when i said novel in the title huh

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theonceoverthinker · 4 years

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When Will My Life Begin? (Fair Game, 11/?)

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Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before.

AO3

A/N: Hi, everyone! I’m sorry if this chapter feels a smidge out of place! I was seeing some family this weekend and the next chapter I had planned was just a bit too complicated for me to give it the focus I wanted to. So instead, I prepared a little mid-space chapter so that I could still give you an update! I hope you like it!

()()()()()()()()()()()()()() Clover Callows felt that like his uncle, he was an intelligent man. He tended to soak up facts Uncle Tyrian told him like a sponge, had a great understanding of scientific fields like astronomy, physics, and biology, took interests in a variety of hobbies ranging from cooking to reading to exercising, and studied all that Uncle Tyrian brought into the tower with a certain methodical thoroughness, whether it be books, elements of nature, or even pieces of food.

However, according to Uncle Tyrian, there was a point where intelligence transcended from just being a collection of facts into being smart and able to do something with those facts. As he described it, what he truly felt allowed someone to graduate from just being intelligent to being truly smart was the ability to take the facts he had and make informed and accurate deductions based off of them.

It was a sentiment Clover found himself strongly agreeing with, and within the confines of his tower, Clover was confident that he encompassed what it meant to be a smart man rather than just an intelligent one. The tower was a finite space with only so many components to make deductions and inferences based off of. It was only natural that he would master anything brought into it if not immediately, then soon after.

That said, Clover was no longer in his tower. He was in a world that felt infinite, a world with people, people he didn’t necessarily understand on anything more than a linguistic level. As he had to constantly remind himself, he was playing by new rules, rules he might end up failing at grasping.

As much as he wished it wasn’t the truth, Clover had reason to doubt whether or not he would truly prove to be smart outside of the tower. Uncle Tyrian had never used the word ‘smart’ to describe Clover before, even while he dutifully stayed in his home. Clover never let himself think too much on that fact, mostly attributing that to a belief that there was just never a time for it to naturally come up. However, there was a second possible reason, once Clover never wanted to acknowledge despite the fact that it may very well have been frustratingly true -- even if Uncle Tyrian thought Clover was smart within the tower, he might not have felt like he was or would ever be smart outside of it, and didn’t want to encourage the growth of undeserved cockiness over a matter that could very well be the difference between life and death by saying otherwise.

It made sense. After all, Uncle Tyrian always told him that for as intelligent as he was, the outside world would eat his naivety and inexperience alive without so much as a second thought, and it wasn’t like he was great at the outside humor his uncle used. If that was anything to go by, then Uncle Tyrian was probably right to not call him as such.

Nevertheless, the outside world was what he was to traverse through in order to see the floating lanterns, and so for once, he would put all he had in his brain to the ultimate test.

Clover guessed the moment of truth for that matter was now at hand.

Since leaving the tower, Clover hadn’t had much of a chance to make deductions, at least not the kind that would do him all that much good in the world beyond his tower. He noticed things about the forest and caves, but once they got to the capital or even lunch, it was anyone’s guess -- least of all, Clover’s -- as to what he’d be able to infer about his surroundings.

However, there was one deduction-based decision that he made inside the tower that the fallout of which was still playing out even well outside its boundaries -- the decision to trust one Qrow Branwen.

Trusting Qrow Branwen proved to be a mixed bag, and something told Clover that an answer to whether or not choosing to trust him was a good idea wouldn’t reveal itself for some time yet. He was no doubt both intelligent and smart regarding the ways of the outside world as well as modestly crafty -- if only because of that amazing weapon of his -- but he had also proved himself wily, slippery, and odd in his mannerisms -- not to mention far more smug than he had any right being.

Even beyond that though, since he met Qrow, there was one thing about him that had nagged at Clover in much the same way Raven nagged at him every morning for her breakfast.

Qrow had told Clover he’d been chased, and escaping his pursuer or pursuers was his sole motivation for climbing Clover’s tower. Clover had no trouble believing that was true, especially when supplemented by Qrow’s lack of awareness over his semblance.

However, that begged the question as to who or what he was escaping from in the first place.

Right after Clover stuffed Qrow’s unconscious form into his closet back in the tower, there was something that stuck out about him. Everything that Qrow seemed to have on his person made sense to be there -- his clothes, his weapon, his sheath, his cheekbones.

At least that seemed to be the case...until Clover found Qrow’s satchel.

The pin was weird enough, beautiful and refined, but crooked and shoddily made in the same breath, but Clover also realized as he was stashing it away that that pin wasn’t just the primary object in Qrow’s satchel -- it was the only thing in there.

Clover may not have left the tower in his life before just under two hours ago, but even he knew that when one traveled, they packed more in their bags than just a single pin, no matter how beautiful it was.

So what was Qrow’s relation to the pin in his satchel?

Frankly, he had a guess.

After all, Qrow was slippery, so if the circumstances behind what put that satchel in Qrow Branwen’s possession were what Clover thought they were, it wouldn’t exactly surprise him.

Still, as confident that Clover was about the truth of his guess, he had no concrete evidence, and while Clover had been proven right about a lot today, the only thing that had thrown him for a loop was just how non-threatening Qrow turned out to be. Sure, he was borderline shifty at times, but actively dangerous or malicious to Clover or his safety? No, Clover couldn’t say he was, so without any proof of his theory about Qrow’s immediate past before they met, he had to admit that he was in no place to impose such a judgment over his character.

That proved to be the case until about fifteen minutes into their trek to go get lunch, when a chance gust of wind flew by the forest he and Qrow traversed through. While Clover still felt his heart soar with every blow that came his way, he had grown wonderfully accustomed to the feeling of the wind circling his body like an invisible arm cuddling his waist.

What he wasn’t used to was the flapping noise that it carried with it this time.

Clover knew what the flaps of birds’ wings sounded like. Even though Raven was flightless, he never let himself forget the day they met and the copious amount of flapping sounds he heard during her battle with the hawk.

Whatever this noise was from, it wasn’t a bird.

No, Clover knew exactly what the sound was once he eliminated that possibility.

He looked out into the stretch of forest before him, studying the area until he found exactly what it was he was searching for.

Perpendicular to the path he and Qrow were following, Clover spotted it still flapping a bit in the aftershock of the wind’s gust -- a piece of paper.

Clover had heard the sound of flapping paper many times before, a sign that a storm might be on its way or just a quick means of ending his reading time prematurely. He knew the sound of it like the back of his hand.

The paper he saw stuck out from the edge of the tree’s curve, seeming to be attached to it.

Now that was an interesting sight. What was on it?

Clover and Raven exchanged intrigued expressions.

Even though it was off the path Qrow had directed them towards to go get lunch, Clover couldn’t help himself. When one only had a couple of days to make a lifetime’s worth of memories, diversions were only natural. Raven certainly seemed to have no objections to defying their guide and while Clover found their rivalry to be just a step or two above childish, he couldn’t argue with the excuse provided to go explore something.

Curious, Clover approached the paper.

“What’s this?” he asked, not so much to ask a question, but to make sure Qrow knew that they were taking a little detour. Judging by the loud sigh he heard immediately after he finished speaking, it seemed to do the trick perfectly.

Clover moved to the other side of the tree, placing his left index finger on the page to hold it steady as he looked at it.

And look at it he did.

Clover had a feeling that he might have even been proved to be right about Qrow’s relationship to the pin in his satchel by the end of their trip, but he didn’t expect to be proven right in such a head-on way as looking directly at a wanted poster with Qrow’s face on it.

His deduction was right.

Turned out that he was smart after all.

From behind him, Clover could tell that Qrow had seen the poster’s contents as well, not only by the rustling of the bushes beside him, but by the mix of a tired sigh and a grunt that left his mouth.

For a moment, Clover honestly didn’t know what to make of this development. Sure, Qrow had shown himself as nothing but non-threatening so far -- barring his reasoning for his weapon choice -- but that was when he had something akin to anonymity on his side. Now, stripped of that, Clover would’ve been lying if he said that more than a few questions didn’t pop up in his mind during those first few seconds after sensing his presence.

Was knowing this detail about Qrow so plainly to his face going to affect the person Clover thought him to be? Was there a threatening side to Qrow that this bit of information was possibly going to bring out of him? Had Qrow been lying about not knowing Clover’s semblance, planning on taking him somewhere he could better defeat him?

No, none of that felt right, but all the same, Qrow clearly wasn’t happy about this poster’s existence, nor likely the fact that Clover had now seen it.

Qrow mumbled something, something that despite their relative proximity to each other, Clover couldn’t quite make out.

“What did you say?” Clover asked as he turned to look at his traveling companion, trying heroically to keep the faltering of his nerves at bay.

Once more, Qrow mumbled something, but like before, Clover still couldn’t hear it, apart from one word: ‘thief.’

Was he trying to own up to being a thief, or deny it?

Clover had no idea.

“Come again?”

This time, Qrow groaned, loudly and openly.

“I’m not a thief!” he all but shouted. “I’m a bandit! There’s a difference!” Qrow didn’t even look like he was yelling at Clover, but rather the poster on the tree.

Clover’s eyebrow raised as a wave of incredulousness came over him.

He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“That’s what you’re upset about?”

Clover couldn’t keep his disbelieving tone out of his voice, so he didn’t even try not to.

“It’s my brand!” Qrow shot back without missing a beat.

Nothing but sputters left Clover’s mouth as he tried to figure out how to even begin to unpack Qrow’s words. “You’re on a wanted poster!”

That felt the most appropriate.

Qrow waved a dismissive hand.

“I’ve been on those for years,” he said. He then turned back to the poster with a vicious glare. “But despite that, those idiots in the royal guard always get my title wrong!” Clover suddenly felt very tired, in much the same way Qrow was when this conversation started, but for vastly different reasons.

For Gods’ sake...

“Bandit,” Qrow sneered, continuing his rant against the papery culprit. “Not a thief! Ban-dit. Ban-dit. There’s a difference.” Qrow slapped the poster, and Clover fought the urge to laugh.

It was a fight he largely lost.

“Not really,” he said, chuckling all the while.

Qrow’s sneer stayed present on his face, but directed itself at its new target -- Clover.

“Yes, really,” he argued back.

“Look, Qrow,” Clover said, his confidence overwhelmingly self assured in that moment. “I grew up reading a dictionary for fun. There’s virtually no difference between the two words.”

Qrow seemed like he was about to argue back, but Clover’s words looked to give him a moment’s pause.

“A dictionary?” he asked, clearly confused. Clover honestly couldn’t blame him. Even with his inexperience with other people, he knew that dictionaries were odd things to study so carefully as to point out the distinction -- or in this case, lackthereof -- between two words.

“It’s hard to get books,” Clover argued, shrugging. “A dictionary was the best my uncle could do.”

“Hard to get books?” Qrow asked, incredulousness now lacing his voice like dirt laced the bottom of a boot. “You can just go to the book store and get some. It’s not exactly physics. I swear to the Gods, you just keep getting stranger by the second.”

For a second, Clover was struck in a not-at-all small amount of shock.

Were they really as easy to get as Qrow said they were? It didn’t seem like he had a reason to lie. The secret, a secret that Clover could tell Qrow was barely trying to keep the longer they traveled together, was now exposed in the most blatant manner possible.

But if Qrow wasn’t lying, then what did that mean? Why did Uncle Tyrian say he had such trouble getting books if they were apparently as easy to obtain as just about anything else?

Perhaps Uncle Tyrian just didn’t want to risk being recognized by people as the man who knew the location of the lucky baby?

Yes, that made sense.

Well, not fully, but it made enough sense for now.

As Clover recovered from his miniature revelation, he scoffed. “At least I’m not throwing a tantrum because only a synonym of my favorite word was used on a wanted poster and not -- oh, I don’t know -- the fact that you’re on a wanted poster!”

Qrow returned the scoff. “As if they could even get me.”

“I got you,” Clover pointed out, smirking.

“I said it before -- I was distracted and you got lucky. It wouldn’t happen again.”

Clover groaned under his breath, careful to keep his smirk up. There Qrow went, walking right into the word ‘lucky’ as if it was a lake filled with those poorly put together emerald pins. More so the fact that each use was a coincidence than anything is what drove Clover crazy.

Who managed to do that accidentally so many times?

Qrow pointed to the poster. “The guards in the kingdom have been trying to arrest me for years now, but to no success,” he continued, oblivious to Clover’s silent plight. “And it’s not like they could with how wrong they got my hair. Newsflash -- it’s not that messy!” Once more, he shouted that sentiment not at Clover, but at the poster.

Clover’s smirk immediately dissolved into a laughter-filled smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! They got your hair perfectly!” he barked. Remembering himself, Clover settled down somewhat. “But I knew it! That pin in your satchel -- You stole it!”

“It’s n-!” Qrow looked like he wanted to finish that thought, but seemingly decided it wasn’t worth his or Clover’s time judging by the dismissive wave of his hand. “Well, what of it, smarty pants?” he defensively asked instead.

“Stealing is wrong!”

“Maybe it is --”

“It absolutely is.” Clover interjected, giving Qrow a deadpan look that practically screamed ‘even I know that.’

Qrow just shrugged before continuing.

“Look muscles, if it’ll help you sleep any better, I didn’t exactly put a poor family out on the streets by stealing it. I nabbed it off of some rich general. He’s got plenty to live off of, even without it. If anything, I’m actually making use out of the thing instead of continuing to let it collect dust in some attic like it was -- good for the economy, you know?” Clover’s expression stayed the same -- positively deadpanned. Qrow rolled his eyes. “Well, think what you want, smarty pants. Once I get that satchel back, I’m gonna be one rich man. Now, come on.”

Despite Qrow’s dismissive attitude towards the nickname he bestowed onto Clover, Clover himself couldn’t help but smile as he followed Qrow’s lead.

‘Smarty pants.’

Was it the most mature of nicknames? No.

Hell, in just about every way, he even preferred ‘muscles’ to it, though he’d never admit it to Qrow’s face. At least that one was specific to himself and not as much of a mouthful as ‘smarty pants.’

However, what it lacked in elegance or cleverness, it more than made up for in meaning. ‘Smarty pants’ in that moment had an extra level of meaning to Clover, something Qrow likely ran into by accident, but was all the same appreciated. To Clover, it meant that he might actually be smart enough to get by in the outside world after all, and maybe even for more than just this trip to see the lanterns.

Clover’s stomach growled. The detour was nice, but it was now time to get a move on and get some lunch.

Full of confidence from Qrow’s unintentional validation, Clover suddenly found the prospect of talking to other people a little bit less scary, provided they weren’t any more intimidating than Qrow had shown himself to be thus far.

“So, what’s the name of the place we’re going to for lunch?” Clover asked, happy to see Qrow perk up at his question.

“Oh, you’ll love it. It’s a quaint little place called Lil’ Miss Malachite’s.”

#fair game #qrow branwen #clover ebi #rwby #tangled au

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nox-scrie · 4 years

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Shady Bussines

What do you mean it’s the 27th and I should have posted this a day earlier for the TMA5 Countdown? Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of recovering my senses from a senseless previous day. Anyway. This is the second day of TMA5 Countdown wow!! The fears were The Corruption and The Buried and because I love that coffin with all my heart I decided to bring it back for another round. No, this one is not corrected either and no, I’m not sorry. I hate rereading my works. It happens. Hope y’all gonna enjoy it though!!

Fears: The Corruption; The Buried brieeef mentions of The Eye

Content Warnings: Death, Paranoia, some mentions of Insects

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Characters: Jon “Tired of your shit before you even started talking” Sims, Martin “What even is going on” Blackwood, Jane Prentiss, some mentions of Tim “Love of my life” Stoker and Sasha “WHY WON’T YOU LET ME LOVE YOU” James; also some OCs and one of them appeared in Day 1 too!

Setting: Season 1!! a little after episode 22, with Martin’s time spent in self isolation (hah.)

Word Count: ~3670

~~~ Shady Bussines

Jon stepped into his office, viewing the piles of unread, unordered statements, and felt another headache forming. He was having none of the former Archivist's shit, not after last night.

There was little light in his office, and he turned off almost all the ones that were still on. The buzzing of the light bulbs was annoying what was left of Jon's sanity, and he wanted to be in the best of his mental capacity when he read a statement he has prepared, one that seemed to be related to Case #9982211.

He slowly dragged himself to his office anyway, putting on his reading glasses that were hung around his neck and tightening his tie. This was his job, and he didn't want to be fired after barely a month of being the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute because of a pretty bad hangover.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he opened a drawer, the only fucking thing in order in this room, and got a tape recorder out. He sighed, thinking with half a mind to call Martin and ask him for a cup of tea and a Paracetamol. Hah. Good joke, Jon. Not after last night.

He took a deep breath, slowly picked up a lint from his skirt and cleared his throat. Maybe he could burry himself in statements until his headache goes away, and forget everything he has said to Tim last night. Yeah. That sounds like a good plan.

"Statement of Horace Dwayne regarding his experience with a strange coffin, Archway, London. Original statement given October 17th, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement beginns.

I knew my fiancé's job was not one of the legal kind. There was simply no way a person with no college education can make enough money as to afford as moving in together in our apartment, barely five months after we got engaged. Yet, I never mentioned it, and I think they were grateful because of that.

We first met a few years ago, on a dating app for LGBTQ+ people. It was a casual thing, we just hit each other up when we needed company, and never talked about anything in particular. Until one day, they asked me if I lived in Manchester and I said that yes, I did. They came to my place a few hours after that, rain soaked and bleeding from a wound on their torso.

That was the first time I met Morgan Doe in person, and it was me, clumsily stitching up something that looked like a kinfe wound on their side. I asked for some details, but Mo didn't tell me anything. They just thanked me for taking care of them because they couldn't go to the hospital. I remember ranting about how they should take better care of themselves, and how Mo looked at me in the eye before bending to kiss me. Or maybe I was the one bending. In that moment, though, it didn't matter: we were kissing, and after I started ignoring the wetness of their lips and how they hissed when I climbed on top of them, it was actually really good.

Mo asked me to be their boyfriend a month after that, and I said yes. We moved in my crappy, ranted apartment in Manchester, and lived there for almost a year before I asked them to marry me. I knew that we couldn't get married right away; I was between jobs at the moment, and even though I still wasn't sure what Mo actually did for a living, I knew that they will not be able to afford a wedding in a matter of months

Or that was what I thought then. One day, when I got home from a failed job interview, I found Mo in the kitchen, happily mumbling the lyrics of some song that was playing on the radio. I asked them what got them so cheery, and they just turned to face me and started dangling a set of keys in front of my eyes. Mo kissed me, and said that they managed finally get us a place for our own.

I knew that something was wrong then. I knew that something was painfully, terribly wrong, from how fast they managed to find us a place right after we got engaged, to the glint in their eyes, that mischievious glint, when they shared the news. I tried getting the information out of them, how did they actually manage to find us a place so fast, but Mo just shooshed me and said that I shouldn't worry, because they were going to give me the wedding of my dreams, and the life that I deserve.

A month after that, we were already settled in Archway, London. Apparently the apartment has been pretty cheap because of the loud neighbours, especially a woman who claimes to hear wasps in the attic. The first night we got there, I saw her in the garden of the apartment building, staring at the basement door. Her eyes were bloodshot red and she looked ill. When she turned her face straight towards me, I was too surprised to turn away. I think she smiled, but I don't remember her lifting the corners of her mouth. It felt like she was smiling, though.

I had a job now, in a shopping centre, selling vegetables. It wasn't much, but somehow we never dealt with money problems in our house. It seemed like the money never ended, in fact, and Mo told me more than once that I shouldn't be concerned about that. And I tried very hard to not be, but in the darkest of nights I still remembered that gilnt in their eyes when they showed me the key.

It was an usual evening when the coffin came. I was having my tea and reading a book that has made its appearence in my house, ignoring the weird noises the woman from upstairs, Jane something, made. There was a knock on the door, and I hoped it wasn't that creepy woman asking for some flour. I really wouldn't like to know what she did with it.

But it wasn't Jane. The two men sitting in my doorway were so tall I had to crack my neck to see their faces, obscured by some big caps. They spoke in some sort of accents, probably russian, and said they were from a delivery serivce and they had a package for Morgan Doe. Mo was not home at the moment, and chills were creeping up my back when one of them extended a clipboard for me to sign. I told them that Mo is my fiancé and that they're not home yet. The two men looked at each other, and one of them shrugged. I signed the papers and the two placed the big box in my kitchen, the first room of the apartment, and left without a word. I only assumed that the package was already paid.

I didn't know what it was, but if Mo has ordered something for the house they would have told me. I thought that maybe it was something for work, and that thought made me feel unwell. I called Mo, but they didn't pick up. I only thought they were busy, and I eyed the big box suspiciously. I went back in the living room for my tea, and I got back to the kitchen with it. It couldn't be something from work, I thought, work doesn't deliver such big packages. So I opened the box.

The shock I felt when I saw the wooden box inside, the coffin inside, made me take a step back and stumble into the table, spilling the tea. It was a coffin, an adult sized coffin, and a pretty new one from appearence. Well, except for the words "DO NOT OPEN" scribbled in the wood. That was not the strangest thing, though, but the fact that it was chained up so heavily it seemed to hold a living person, not a wooden box.

I called Mo again. And again. I was so panicked I could barely breath, and they were not picking up. I couldn't afford to leave the room or lose sight of the coffin, who did not move, speak or gave any sort of clue about its origin or its content. I noticed the key attached to the chain, and that image made me laugh. There was a coffin in my kitchen, a chained up coffin, with a key! I was going crazy.

It was almost midnight when I felt like I couldn't stay awake any longer. I took the key and placed it in my back pocket, careful not to touch the wood or the chain too much. If it was a cursed object, I didn't want to be in more contact with it than I already was. Mo still hasn't came back; they do that sometimes, leave overnight, but they always give me a heads up at least a week before. Of course the only time they left without telling me was the same night that a strange coffin, probably with a very weird thing inside, made its way to our home.

I dreamt of bugs slowly crawling their way on my skin, through my ear and inside my brain, bitting and pinching it as if it was a sponge, whispering about the hive, its importance, its puropose. It was a very unusual dream for me, but when I woke up and found out that I wasn't in my bed anymore was even stranger. I was in the kitchen, in front of the coffin, with the key in my hand. The key from my work pants, which are in the drawer.

I never sleepwalked before, and to think that out of nowhere I was not only sleepwalking, but dreaming of bugs and searhing for things in my asleep state was impossible to understand. It was the middle of the night and I took out my phone to send Mo another message, begging them to come home. I don't know how I fell asleep afterwards, but I know that the key was on the nightstand where I put it before going to bed.

Mo came back that morning, and I found them in the kitchen, their back turned to me. They were staring at the coffin, and I slowly made my way towards them, anger and relief that they were okay starting up in my stomach. But they didn't turn towards me, not as I slammed the door on my way inside. They jusy sat there, and stared. It took me only a moment to realize they were crying, and Mo has never cried as long as I know.

They turned towards me, their cheeks stained with tears, and hugged me. There was no word shared between us as we sat there, in front of the coffin, Mo crying softly on my shoulder. I think I understood them better in that morning then I did in the entire time I knew them.

Our lives for the next few days has been like that: staring at the coffin for sometimes hours on end, waiting for it to make a move, and then quietly chatting about what we did that day. We have got used to it, too. Mo placed it in our storage closet that we never even used, and it fit perfectly. Both of us tried to ignore the little tapping from inside when he touched it. I think we both convinced ourselved it was just in our imagination.

When the first rain came, it was during the nighttime. I'm a very heavy sleeper so I usually don't awake unless somebody hits me with something, but the noise from that night woke me up. Mo's side of the bed was empty, and the bedside table's drawer was open, with the key for the coffin missing. My heart skipped a beat, and I ran for the kitchen, bursting through the door.

There was a moaning coming from the storage closet, and the door was opened. As I scrambeled for the light bulb, I realized that the moaning was almost musical. When I turned the lights on, the moaning hasn't stopped, but grew even louder. The door to the wooden casket was open, the light glinting off the chains mockingly.

I took a deep breath, and started screaming for Mo. I didn't dare leave the kitchen, not with the casket open, not when I didn't know where my partner was and if they got in there. I realized they must've been the one who opened it. They might have had went there every night, and this time, with that awful moaning, was too much for them. They gave up.

I'm not sure when I fell to the ground, a mass of sobs and pained screams, covering my ears to stop the sound of moaning, but I know when a knock came at my door. I couldn't move, couldn't leave, and the person must have been so impatient they just bursted through the door. It was the two delivery man, accompanied by a guy with a very common face. I couldn't catch the man's name, too caught in the two delivery men as they closed the casket and chained it up again. The jackets they were wearing had the words "Breckon and Hope Delivery" written on the back.

The moaning only grew louder as they placed the coffin on a trolley to take it down the stairs easier. I barely managed to get on my feet and catch the other man's rain-soaked coat by the fringes of the sleeve.

"Why did you do that to them? How has Mo wronged you?" I asked, and I was not feeling angry, or empty, but rotten. As if my insides have been eaten by insects slowly and only now I can percieve the damage.

"Oh, child. They didn't do anything to me. All that happened was their own fault, their own making." at this the man stopped, gently extracted his hand from my grip, and looked around the apartment. "Nice place you've got here. I'm certain it was worth it."

I moved out the next week, when I started hearing weird insect noises. I never managed to get the door fixed, not that it mattered. The whole building burned up a few days after my departure, and I couldn't help but feel this was the perfect ending."

Jon paused for a few seconds there, thoughts flying around in his head, never focusing on just one. There was so much information here, so many points to connect. It felt like a conclussion was coming, and Jon hated that he wasn't able to see it fully because of his stupid, throbbing headache.

"Statement ends." he said, an afterthought. "Well, this is not only connected to Case #9982211, but may also be related to Case #0161203, the one of Martin's from almost a week ago. If that is true and the Jane who lives in Archway in this case is the same as the one that locked Martin in his apartment then... that would be very interesting, indeed. I should ask Sasha to make more research regarding this case. I... Recording ends."

Pressing the red button to stop the recording, Jon started scrubbing at his eyes before letting out a heavy sigh. It felt like he was caught in a web, all of these statemenets connected one way or another, with him caught right in the middle of it all and yet unable to see where they started and with whom they ended. He got up on unsteady feet and caught the edge of his desk in order to not lose balance. God. He would make his own fucking tea and get his own fucking Paracetamol-

The door to his office opened, and Martin came stumbling in. He was wiping sleep away from his eyes and masking a yawn at the same time with the back of his hand. He was also wearing one of Jon's baggy sweaters he has left in the room of the Archives Martin occupies now. The recorder turned itself on, unoticed by either of the man looking at each other.

"Oh, Gosh, Jon. God. What are you even doing here? It's not even 7 a.m. yet."

Jon didn't even try to mask the scowl on his face when he gave his snappy reply. "Some of us get to work on time, Martin."

Martin stopped wipping at his eyes, his glasses now slightly askew. Jon looked behind him and turned his hand into a fist. Why was he like this?

"Still, the Archives don't open for at least another half an hour. Jesus, Jon, I'm still in my pajamas."

"I can see that." Jon replyed, meaning to be bitter and mean, and hating the softness that managed to slip into his tone. He scowled harder in return when Martin looked down at himself and jumped.

"Ahm... I... my clothes. Are at cleaning. All of them. And you forgot this and I... meant... to give it back to you... not now I mean! But I didn't have anything else to wear and..."

"Martin. Stop making a fool of yourself. It's fine that... that sweater has a hole in it anyway."

"I sewed it." Martin said, matter of factly, his face still red and expression flustered.

"You did?" Jon asked, more surprised than anything, and when Martin started biting his lip Jon looked back at that spot above his head, that was now becoming his favourite part of the Archives.

"Yeah... It was nothing anyway and I didn't want to return it with the hole in it. Not that! Not that I am.. wearing it often or something."

"I said it's fine. The blue fits you better than it ever fitted me, anyway."

Martin looked at him in the eyes, something strong and fierce in his look, and Jon didn't turn his head this time. Neither of them said anything for a while, but then somebody coughed in the doorway and both of them jumped, the moment having vanished.

"Did we intrerrupt something?" said Sasha, sidestepping Martin and leaving some papers on Jon's desk. Tim, who was behind her, remained next to Martin and sent a big grin in Jon's direction. The scowl came back to the archivist’s features.

"No, nothing, what? Of course not. I was just... Jon, why are you holding onto the edge of the desk so tightly?"

Jon looked down at his hands and saw that they were white with effort. He stopped clenching them, and immediately started feeling dizzy once again. Sasha caught him before he could fall backwards, with an arm around his middle.

"Easy there, Jon. Are you okay?"

"Just.. feeling a little ill." Jon said, and Tim let out a bark of laughter that he quickly covered with a caugh.

"Godness, this is just awful, isn't it, Martin?" Tim said, making a show of his words and softly touching his heart with one hand. "I'm certain one of your famous teas would make him all better, don’t you think?"

Before Jon could give a snappy reply, Martin jumped slightly again, as if Tim's words just activated all of his "taking-care-of-people-via-tea" senses. He nodded eagerly and looked over to Jon, who was too tired to scowl in full force anymore.

"And a Paracetamol." Martin agreed, before leaving the office.

"He hasn't even asked me if I want some tea..." Sasha asked, more confused than offended. "What did you do to him during that staring contest, Jon?"

"What?" barked Jon, extracting himself from Sasha's hold and throwing himself on his desk chair. "I didn't do anything to him, thank you very much."

"Oh but there are so many things you'd like to do." Tim said, and anger started bubbling up in Jon's throat as he turned his eyes towards him. "You drank so much last night you can barely hold yourself up now, boss?" he asked, innocently.

"Tim, for the love of everything good on this planet, stop. This is all your fault."

"What is?" Sasha asked, confused.

"Your big crush on Martin is my fault, or the fact that you got so drunk you told me all about it is?" teased Tim, and Jon wanted to get off his chair and throw himself towards him, but didn’t.

"WHAT?" shouted Sasha, and both Jon and Tim shooshed her.

"I don't have... a crush on Martin. I just think that he's a good person, and a good person can't work in this place of horror stories and insufferable people. That would be you, Tim."

Tim laughed. "Copy that, boss. But I'm sure that if you just told him he would.."

"No. And that's final. I don't want to engage in a romantic relationship with anyone, especially not my assistants, especially when there's so much work to do here. I think I just found some important information in Prentiss' case."

"Jon... likes Martin..." mumbled Sasha, probably talking to herself. "You idiot!" she exclaimed, turning towards Jon. "He likes you too! Hell, he almost broke his legs running to make you tea. And wasn't that your sweater he was wearing, the one you lost some time ago, "my favourite article of clothing" or whatever?"

"It totally was." said Tim, ever the helpful.

"So do something about that, Jon! What are you waiting for?"

"For the two of you to get off my office and do some actual work. Leave, now."

Sasha sighed and Tim stuck out his tongue at him, telling him something about how we only have one life and we should make the most of it. As Jon drank the too-good tea Martin has made for him, he admitted to himself that Tim was right and that he really should do something about that. The more persistant thought, though, was the fact that he was never going out drinking with Tim, ever again. He did not see, nor hear when the tape record clicked itself shut back.

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jaqfms · 4 years

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there's jacques ‘jaq’ daingerfield ! though on their socials they go by @thedangerousq . i heard he is originally from paris , france , but made the big move to los angeles to join TWENTIES . you haven't heard about it ? well , apparently their dream is to design his own video game , but they have no chance unless they quit being so cocky & lazy . that said , those behind the scenes have said they can be witty & charismatic too. guess we'll have to watch and find out ! ━ & laughing until you cry , a cartoon theme song paired with a hip hop beat , a juul behind your ear , vines quoted in a thick french accent . ( timothee chalamet , cis male , he/him ) ( pepper , she/her + they/them , est , twenty four )

ABOUT THE MUN. are ya in a relationship? you think i can convince someone to do that?

hello, it’s me again. i tired myself out with haisley’s so jaq’s if going to be considerably shorter. let’s go.

BIO. aaaahhhhhhhhhh shhiiittttt *begins understanding things*

jacques daingerfield was born in france to two very average parents. like his mother was a teacher and his father was a financial analyst. nothing wild or crazy going on there, and to top it off he was the middle child, and well, you can tell.

he has four siblings. he was the third kid, and well, he spent most of his childhood fighting for any kind of attention, usually by making inappropriate little jokes or you know, fart noises. yes his parents were generally exasperated with him, but that behavior made sure they paid attention to him. and honestly that was all jacques wanted.

again, jacques had a pretty average upbringing. he went to school, he was actually pretty popular among his peers despite being so annoying (definitely very unpopular amongst his teachers for generally that class clown that sat in the back and always interrupted), and he excelled academically without really trying too much. well, in every subject but english funnily enough. jaq always struggled in english, which is why it was incredibly ironic that when his parents separated they decided to move to uk with his father. jacques was ten at the time, and he still doesn’t understand the decision.

so yes, jacques was the kid in class with the weird name and weirder accent who could barely communicate with his classmates. it didn’t take long for them to stop really trying to pronounce ‘jacques’ properly. jacques became jack without much input on his part, and by the time jacques had got enough of a handle on the english language to correct them the americanized name had already stuck. even at nine jacques was smart enough to know that insisting on the correct french pronunciation of his name just kind of made him sound like a pretentious french asshole, so instead he spun it. he embraced it. started signing all of his papers and assignments with ‘jaq’ with a q like it was his brand or something. even as a child jaq will give himself credit for being clever af.

it actually worked pretty well honestly. the older jaq got the more he grew into himself, and the more comfortable he got with the english language. honestly a lot of how jaq learned english was through video games and youtube videos and cartoons, like those were some of his go to resources. spent a lot of time playing games with strangers and tested his english out with colourful trash talk. actually started his first ever youtube channel was basically that as just a way to practice his english a bit. all he did on there was play video games, and honesty he didn’t even show his face. the channel wasn’t that popular, but he had fun making it.

jaq on the other hand had gained popularity by the time he was in middle school. granted, that popularity was mostly due to the fact that he had a popular older brother and sister, was french and therefore ‘cute’ (jaq didn’t pretend to understand how girls brains worked then, and he still doesn’t now) and his family always had the newest gaming system at their household, and even then it wasn’t wild popularity. but it was enough that barely anyone teased him for his thick french accent anymore, and yk what jaq would take it. he weirdly got even more popular with the guys in his grade when they found out about his youtube channel. they found it funny, and they would generally watch his videos and come tell him about their favourite parts later, ask him about how he got past a certain level or learned a certain cheat. jaq soaked up their admiration like a sponge, right into his ego. they were the beginning of jaq getting the big head he proudly sports today.

that said for most second form jaq’s youtube channel was just a hobby. something he did for fun. like i said earlier, jaq actually did really well in school and his parents always expected him to follow in his father’s footsteps and go into something in business. after all, it would be an easy transition with both french and english under his belt. they knew he would excel.

but then he met madi. and somehow the two started doing videos together for fun, and it quickly expanded into something a lot bigger. something that jaq wouldn’t have even dreamed of doing before. suddenly the picture perfect future he had planned for himself just seemed boring in comparison to what he and madi had going on, and so jaq easily picked that instead. his parents weren’t all that happy about it, of course, after all jaq had full scholarships to some schools just waiting for him to accept and he ignored all of them in favour of making videos of him playing games online. they still don’t understand, but jaq doesn’t really need them too. he’s happy with what he’s doing and he figures he can always go into business when he’s old and boring.

he moved out of his parents house straight into an apartment with madi when things between them started getting really tough. they can’t really speak without the whole ‘we’re so disappointed in you’ conversation coming up so jaq doesn’t really speak to them unless he has to. both of his older siblings went into business like their parents wanted, and his younger siblings are on the same path. his little sister wants to be just like him though, and that warms his heart tbh.

has come to TWENTIES to have a good time! wants to break into the acting industry like dylan o’brien and maybe show his parents that a ‘real’ career can come from something like this. his parents begged him not to come on this show and embarrass them so that is definitely what he’s about to do.

HEADCANNONS. there are a lot of people who need to shut up. not me though

thinks he’s funny! sometimes he is

will answer to jacques, jaq, jaqi, or q! you can call him daingerfield if you want but not many people do

fun fact, made his instagram handle as a joke, much like awkwafina. was just supposed to a little dig about how many times he has to say ‘jack with a q’ whenever someone spells his name. but now the dangerous q is his brand, and just finds it really dumb and funny.

a bit of a kleptomaniac. will swipe something he thinks is cool mostly just to do it. has very little impulse control. loves to pull pranks and generally make trouble, but not in a way that will ever actually hurt anybody because he’s not a whole idiot. not the biggest fan of cops.

is an artist. will spray paint your walls and probably has spray painted the walls of his apartment. will doodle weird things all over napkins or receipts or whatever he can get his hands on. has drawn out little video game characters he wants to be in his future games, and actually is considering going to school for a video game programming degree just for that. the funny thing is with his grades he could probably do it. is teaching himself coding in the mean time.

the type of person to start drumming on the counter or desk with his hands or like pencils or pens when he’s bored. will make up fun little raps on the spot.

incredibly intelligent but doesn’t like to talk about it. would much rather act dumb than act like he has any braincells. he doesn’t want to give anyone expectations.

all the youtube success has definitely gone to his head in the way that?? he just thinks they’re untouchable like he cannot compute the concept of their channel failing or their future endeavors failing. definitely thinks that TWENTIES will lead to much bigger things for them. will walk into his future acting auditions like he’s the shit.

an introvert with extrovert tendencies. needs to be by himself to chill out and recharge but can like work a room honestly. can make friends pretty much everywhere he goes. a bit of a charmer when he wants to be.

a smoker unfortunately. also a bit of a stoner. definitely has a juul on him at all times, like i said he tends to keep it behind his ear and then be like ???? where’s my juul.

needs glasses but refuses to wear them. is very stubborn about it tbh. does not want to get contacts because he hates the idea of putting something into his eye. so you can catch him squinting sometimes like a fool.

one of the first things he treated himself to with his first big youtube check like outside of rent was a tattoo! it’s on his ribs and it’s just a drawing he did himself but he loves it and it was the start of an addiction. he has about five. also has a few helix and orbital piercings on his left ear.

another muse of mine with a tiktok, but jaq just uses his to make music for the most part. will turn the mickey mouse club house theme song into bars! (if you’ve seen that tiktok,,,, ily)

a big nerd. reads comic books. watches anime. will get very reasonably upset about the avatar the last airbender movie whenever it’s brought up.

can cook really well, but whenever he does it it’s pure chaos. like julian/brad leone in the kitchen for sure. but the food comes out tasting really good, so???

is jewish af. knows a bit of hebrew and a bit of yiddish because of his grandparents mostly. is kind of ??? a lot more lenient with things now that he’s not around his parents as often i’m ngl.

brings his ds everywhere and you can literally catch him on the bus vaping and playing animal crossing because he hasn’t bothered to get a american license yet

is always willing to take a picture with a subscribers and they’re always the weirdest thing. there are pictures of subscribers like pretending to stab him in the eye. prom pose pictures with subscribers. the weirder the better tbh

has gone to vidcon a few years in a row, always has the wildest time. there is video footage of him waking up in some strangers bathtub with a feather boa around his neck. it’s probably on instagram.

is also bi af.

WANTED CONNECTIONS. very proud to announce that i am officially a lost cause!

BEST FRIENDS.

A BROMANCE.

FWB/EWB.

EXES.

FANS OF HIS YOUTUBE VIDEOS.

and here’s his wanted tag, i forgot to do the same for haisley so here is her wanted tag.

and many more, y’all this took so long and i’m so tired but like this and i will slide into your dms for plots!

#twenties:intro #i have completely exhausted myself omg #rip #( intro. )#any typos in this can stay idec anymore

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astroiarium · 4 years

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━━☆⌒*.박채영 / Rosé’s Birth Chart Analysis

Rosé is Blackpink’s resident vocalist and lead dancer but as it turns out, her unique voice and charming personality reveal a soul that is more than the eye can see.

☆ These are my interpretations of the inner planets in her chart. It may be different from other's interpretations but is still valid as everyone has different takes on birth charts. This does not strictly represent who this person is as birth charts are just indications of who a person might be, so feel free to take this with a grain of salt. ☆

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Rosé of BLΛƆKPIИK

Position: Main Vocalist, lead dancer

Born on: February 11, 1997

Birthplace: Auckland, New Zealand

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Sun in Aquarius (22°), Mercury in Aquarius (2 °), Venus in Aquarius (9 °)

I decided to group all three planets together to flow easily from one placement to the next. In a nutshell, she acts, talks, and loves like an Aquarius! Rosé’s chart forms a beautiful cradle shape with Aquarius, Aries, and Libra dominating her inner planets. The mix of fire and air elements create a great conversationalist who always stands up for what they believe is right.

Starting with her sun in Aquarius, Rosé is someone who naturally stands out from the crowd. I have no doubt she was a popular girl in her high school years. Aquarius natives exude mystery. At first glance, they seem like they aren’t truly there. Their physical body may be present but in their mind, they are in a separate plane of existence entirely. And that’s exactly what makes people fall for them. For Rosé, it’s easy for me to tell what made her my Blackpink bias. She fits my preppy happy go lucky girl who at first seems shy, but once they’re comfortable their high energy is off the charts.

It used to be that she was labeled as Blackpink’s quietest member according to her profile. But as seen from their reality show, she could rival Lisa’s boisterous Arian energy! Aquarian natives are exactly like this. They are sociable but at the same time, detached from the world around them. This air element would make Rosé opinionated as well. She would most likely enjoy activities such as debating, which require intrapersonal skills as well as critical thinking and logic. These people value knowledge. They view others as sources of this as they like the idea of different perspectives. This means they most likely have big friend groups from all walks of life. Rosé is, of course, no exception to this. With her Aquarius sun being in the second decan, this would give rulership to Mercury which indicates natural-born social skills. Her friends from idol groups all around serve as proof. There are also times where her Arian moon gives her bursts of spontaneity to just casually strike a conversation with someone she deems interesting. You will find that Rosé is an easy person to converse with as she is the right amount of comical and earnest especially in topics she takes interest in. She adores unconventional themes that affect how others see her as a person. As a singer, her individualistic nature is expressed in her unique vocal timbre. She’s been praised many times in the industry for this such as when critic Almira Blancada remarked that “You would know it’s Rosé singing in a heartbeat.” For many, this is her most appealing feature. You will feel drawn to her voice which could be compared to that of a siren’s.

“More of you, less of me” - Rosé’s favorite phrase.

So much Aquarius influence in her chart will conjure unorthodox ideas in her head. Rosé’s definitely one to think outside of the box and look at things from a different perspective. As mentioned earlier, her natural-born social skills are an advantage to help her gain knowledge through the people she interacts with. Like a sponge, she soaks up ideas, thoughts, and beliefs of the people around her. But a downside to this is that she may find difficulty in defining her own beliefs and morals, so it is constantly changing. To make up for this, she practices a strict religion. It is a known fact that Rosé is a Christian who regularly attends mass. In her youth, she has also sung choir for school so there is a possibility that she was raised in this religion. This gives me the feeling that she’s been taught all her life to tone down her Aquarian nature to be different and instead conform to traditional practices. Not to worry, there are still other ways in which this Aquarius influence can manifest. She is musically inclined so she expresses herself through her craft with ease. She would most likely take interest in the field of humanities and social sciences. And with her Aquarius in Mercury, she will openly discuss those topics with other people. She is an idealist to a fault and likes to voice her concerns with the world in its current state. Since Mercury is home to the air element, she will have no trouble vocalizing her inner thoughts. But there is still a drawback to this. Even though ideas come to her easily, they will come in bulk. The difficulty will present itself in trying to vocalize all of them clearly and concisely. There will be times when her expression rubs people the wrong way. Despite her intentions being pure, the delivery might be way off which is a factor essential to communication. As a result, she will appear scatter-brained or insensitive. Aquarians need mental stimuli like they need air lol. There is a primal instinct to question the status quo for her and ask thought-provoking questions. Since this planet deals with communication, some topics she brings up may not be taken lightly as she would. Of course, Rosé has probably resolved this by conversing only with people who share the same thought pattern and ideas as her. A developed Aquarius in Mercury heightens the impact of her words which she can weaponize if deemed necessary.

An Aquarius in Venus falling in love is a wonder to everyone else so to speak. They are scared of the idea of love and commitment yet when they’re in love, they’re completely lovesick. Venus in Aquarius is vague when communicating their love calls. You think they like you but only after you've decided to "return the feelings" they'll say they only see you as a friend. Or in its antithesis, they might really like you but you’ll only find out long after they’ve moved on when they mention it randomly in a conversation. You can still pick up the subtle nuances of an Aquarian in love. They adore individuality and point it out in conversations with someone that has caught their eye. They will like talking to this person in general and look forward to forming a strong mental connection with them. They’re flirty with everyone but this person will have the honor to see the vulnerable parts Aquarius hides behind the extroverted exterior if they play their cards right. Those who naturally stand out appeal to a Venus in Aquarius the most. Rosé’s ideal type being someone nice, genuine and with a nice voice specifically confirms this.

Being in a relationship with Rosé will be a love comprising of late nights talking about the universe and purpose in life. Aquarius is a fixed sign, they are stubborn and astute in just about everything. When it comes to love, she will become blinded by a devotion without question and it seems that’s why they find the concept of love so scary. She won't be possessive and understands her partner will need time for themself. She will speak to them in a way only the two of them will understand. A secret love language if you will. This lucky person will be present in the planning of her future and with her moon in Aries, she’ll take on the challenge of making it her present.

Moon in Aries (10 °)

Rosé’s Arian moon gives her a sense of impulsivity. Fire moons feel with their whole body. They have profound emotions that have to be addressed immediately and can’t be kept bottled inside. Because of this, Rosé is a sensitive person who can cry easily at the first cause of frustration. She likes the idea of communicating her concerns and insecurities to people but finds it hard to when actually put on the spot. Deep down there is a lingering feeling of not being good enough and so she tries to excel in everything. A con for this placement is that it’s a self-serving one. While in a healthy amount, this might seem like a positive seeing as Rosé would be more in tune with her emotional self. It will become negative when she allows herself to react before thinking rationally. This will lead to her exploding in an argument say things she doesn’t mean in the heat of the moment. This can still apply to a casual conversation as well when she unwittingly says something that provokes the other person. This placement projects out of her when the need arises and overwhelms her Aquarius sun in outbursts of intense emotions. Aries is the first of the zodiac signs which gives a childlike naivety to Rosé's subconscious. This makes her adore instant gratification. If she wants something she has to get it, no matter what stands in her way. No matter who stands in her way. Aries moons can be competitive as well. To her, if all of it were for nothing, then what’s the point? This is what she keeps in mind when faced with a challenge that tempts her, which is what sets her apart from the impetuousness of a Sagittarius. On the other hand, this is what enables her to just be herself. Aries dislike being told what to do. They lead, not follow. In Rosé’s case, her Aquarius sun tells her to stand out and her Aries moon tells her to embrace it even if she gets called weird. This fiery element in her core also empowers her to take big risks—like auditioning for a big company like YG entertainment at the age of 15. Although she initially thought her father’s prompt for her to do it was just a joke seeing the difficulties in becoming a K-pop idol, she still went ahead and did it anyway. And if that doesn’t explain the sheer drive of an Aries, I don’t know what will. She dislikes the idea of limitation but whether or not she likes it, some things just won’t go her way. I noticed she also needs physical stimuli, which manifests in habits such as biting her fingers when no one is looking which she admits to doing.

Mars in Libra (5 °)

Libra is in detriment in Mars. This basically means that this sign isn’t comfortable in this planet and doing things related to what it governs, which for Mars is passion, assertion, and separation. Libra’s planet of rulership is Venus, which is the exact opposite of this planet. Because Mars is a malefic planet, it urges the natives to do actions according to what this planet represents. In Rosé’s case, she just goes about it the Libra way. The typical Libra characteristics are that they are the peacemakers and hopeless romantics. They go about life in a way that their aspirations are larger than life but then they don’t put in the effort to attain them and just expect it to fall on their lap (not unlike a Pisces.) This gives me the impression that with this placement, Rosé has a side of her which makes her lack motivation to set and accomplish practical goals. As I previously mentioned earlier, what started as just a simple joke auditioning for one of the biggest entertainment companies led her to her path of stardom. If she didn’t have her impulsive Aries moon to empower her to believe in her talents on that particular day, then maybe she wouldn’t even be a part of Blackpink today! In everyday life, Libras avoid confrontation by all accounts. Unfortunately, Mars is also a planet of war and conflict as in Greek Myths, its counterpart is the war god Ares. As you can tell, this makes Rosé secretly like stirring the pot and she does it without thinking. This manifests in taking the opposing side in discussions and bringing up controversial topics. Although Libras are already known to love drama without outright expressing it, this placement basically confirms it. Without a strong Venus to create an equilibrium between these two planets, this may strongly affect her temperament in a way that her Aries moon will.

All in all, Rosé’s chart tells me that the stars have aligned at just the right moment at the time of this wonderful girl’s birth. She embodies the true Aquarian through and through for all the good they are known for. She has the fiery core of an Aries that manages to leap out of her in just the right moments. She is someone who wants and deserves a lot of love so please give it to her! She just wants to make the world a better place :( Rosé has always had a penchant for singing and her unique voice just gives her all the more right to do it. She is one to strike inspiration in others for this and she knows it and I hope she embraces her talents fully and unwaveringly. This is why she is Blackpink’s main vocalist without a doubt. Beyond that, she is a girl with a powerful mind and a voice that speaks for it accordingly.

∧＿∧ （｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。 ⊂　　ノ　　　・゜+. しーＪ　　　°。+ *´¨) 　　.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·’* ⛧

#astrology #zodiac signs #rosé #park chaeyoung #blackpink #kpop astrology #blackpink birth chart #rosé birth chart #kpop #aquarius #박채영 #blackpink astrology

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xiazoxio · 4 years

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Haunted

Prologue - Let's meet again

-----

5-7-15

I woke up to the soft, tranquil sound of the clock and the honey like glow of the sun through my apartment window. I turned my head and soaked in the image I saw everyday, but could never take the time to observe.

Something felt like it clicked inside of me. Something small,yet something that caused the gears to turn a newer and more better way.

The morning was tranquil, with the sweet chirping of birds on my windowsill, singing a lovely song I used to consider chatter. they're of a serene color, a lovely little baby blue. Their little beady eyes reminded me of little marbles,reflecting the sun in a small orb. the trees they sat upon rustled softly with beautiful,vibrant greens. the wood was seemingly old and scrunched up, but did not affect the extravagant glow it gave off.

I sat up slowly, keeping my mind empty and soaking in my surroundings like a sponge. my bed was warm and felt like a small cocoon. My cat,Munko, sat beside me, curled up into a small ball of purring fur. She was warmer than the bed.

I decided not to disturb her and slowly got off the bed. As soon as my feet made contact with the cold tile floor, it sent a small ball of comfort. like heat slowly rising up your legs. This one day felt like home more than the years I've ever spent trying to recollect myself and move on in this apartment.

I took in a deep breath and walked towards the door, taking note of how organized everything was, despite being quite messy back in college.

It felt very different.

I twisted the door knob open, and uninterestedly walked towards the kitchen, like my muscle memory had taken over.

…

All the pans and pots were in their places,spotless and shining. The curtains were blowing gently with the flow of the morning breeze. I might've left the window open. I stood there for a few minutes, thinking back on the events that transpired last night, but my mind was too cloudy.

I reached up for a cup and filled it up with water, gulping it down before it even filled halfway. My throat felt better and like the air could easily through now. A few stray droplets trickled down the cup.

I looked around more. Everything was too familiar and brought back a pang of nostalgia,the best and worst feeling I've ever felt,seen and heard of.

I looked at the plain calendar that hung in the corner. It started back at me, marking that it was the fifth day in July,2015. A mixed feeling of contentment and comfort swirled within me like warm waters. It's been 3 years since then, and I feel numb.

Something warm tickles my face as it moves down. I move to touch it and realise it's not any new feeling.

Its salty. Filled with regret,sweet sorrow and lost memories.

More tiny droplets fall down my face, like a little sparrow escaping its cage it was holed up in.

I stood there, despondent.

…

4-7-15

I couldn't sleep no matter how hard I tried. Something in the corner of my mind tugged hard at me, and distracted me from doing anything. Like I forgot something important, and I had to remember it like my life depended on it. That will only got more curious progressively as the day went on. I couldn't focus on my job, on talking, on eating or anything. It held me back from sleeping.

I was missing something important. But I don't know what.

She'd been gone for 5 years. And since then, I've felt a hole I couldn't fill no matter how hard I tried, like an empty keyhole that lost its key years ago. There was no hope for me anymore. Even I didn't have hope for myself.

The rain wasn't forgiving that night either, coming down at full force. The droplets glistened like glycerin in the haunting moonlight. Sometimes thunder would accompany so.

I've always liked the rain for some reason. It gives me a reason to think, a reason to smile and a reason to find something missing from me. The rain always felt like home, its sweet scent enveloping me in a fragile, cloudy dream that would always return to me at some point. There was a connection with the rain I could never describe. Like the rain would comfort me at my worse and make my dreams slightly more bearable. I've had weird dreams the days it would rain. By weird, I mean fascinating.

I remember every detail word for word. There would be soft clouds I would sit upon with the hold of an angel's touch. Sometimes it would interfere me from seeing something beyond it, sometimes it would urge me to step off the little encasing and look around. The sky would stretch across infinitely, vibrant hues of blues,indigo and purples. The sun would always be in the middle of rising or setting, I could never figure out. The air would be cold, but it would make my lungs feel like its sucking in nothing because of how soft the air was. Little cloud footsteps would follow me whenever I walked, mocking that of a child in a playground, or snow. Time would always be infinite, no worrying about whatever would happen below, or what was going on.

There were times where there were mysterious figures, looking back at me from my encasing. Although, I could never confirm if it was the mist or something I used to think.

A particularly loud thunder cracked across the sky, like it was tearing the clouds apart. I flinched at the sound, never really liking the thunder as much. Sometimes it wouldn't even rain, just grey clouds with the intention of lightning. They always felt like they had their dreams sucked out of them, a lifeless,hollow husk of a child's dream that shatters as it grows up.

But my fatigue takes over anyway, not caring to the harsh winds outside and the pelting of raindrops.

This dream wasn't like it was supposed to be. Some things are off. It makes me feel unsafe.

The encasing I would always wound up in watch more open this time, with the heavy mist covering the great views of the dream. There was no sky anymore, just mist. My lungs felt heavy at this sight. The air was harder to breathe and some thick chunks of clouds would impede in my path towards an unknown destination.

I saw a mysterious figure in the distance, silent and looking around, like a child in an extravagant ballroom. They seemed confused. But they finally turned around, facing me from a distance. The heavy mist was slowly vanishing, but it was still covering a thick chunks of the figure, like the face, their middle torso and their right ankle.

I kept my distance, but my heart longed to know who this unknown character was. I couldn't bring myself to speak, because I couldn't hear myself. It was like my voice fizzled out. I couldn't keep myself calm,my heartbeat steadily rising and my fears making out the figure instead for my eyes. I was scared of my own dreams. I couldn't stop trying to talk, I screamed, I tried to whisper but nothing made my voice come out, I couldn't stop panicking until-

-until they laughed.

It was a woman, a girl in fact, judging from the pitch of her voice. It was smooth and sweet, like cotton candy. I didn't realise that the mist had almost faded away, beautiful blue skies coming into the view instead of the diverse indigos and purples. There was no sun in sight.

The girl wasn't just any girl.

It was her, from 3 years ago.

The void that left me empty with a grievance.

She looked just like she did any other day back in college. Her hair tied back to a firm ponytail, her eyes strong and unwavering, but had the contrast softness of sympathy and understanding. Her hands folded in front of her. The signature maroon acrylic sweater made her features more contrasting. Her smile never faltering from that stupid grin she'd always have after defeating me in a batte of teasing.

She asked me,

"Hey there, you little Peony. Missed me?"

My knees weakened as my hands started shaking. That horrid image of her lifeless corpse flashed like a brief warning in my eyes telling me this wouldn't be real in any logical sense. She was dead, I saw her corpse! She couldn't be alive either way. My brain racked against my skull for a logical answer.

Even if it was a dream, I wanted it to be real.

She looked at me sadly, but her smile never faltered as much.

"Its been long, hasn't it?"

I stopped whatever my brain was trying to sum up, at this point. I focused on her words.

"I'm not alive, actually. I mean,you should've probably figured that out, but you seemed confused."

I replied, feeling like my voice finally returned to me,"then if you're dead,what are you?"

She laughed a bit,"didn't even try to censor the word 'dead' did you?"

She took in a deep breath and sighed. "Its me, Enko. I'm not sure myself, actually. I think I'm a ghost. I've been wanting to talk to you in these dreams, but I never really had the courage to."

I thought a bit. And my head started asking more questions.

"Aren't ghosts supposed to be in the afterlife? Or Heaven? Or Hell? Is there a reason why you've been appearing as an apparition?"

Her sad look disappeared for a bit as she thought about it. She said,"dummy, if you knew about ghosts or apparitions, you'd know I'm here for my undying wish."

Oh,right. I used to think that was just fiction. Ghosts or Apparitions have an undying wish they sometimes need to complete, before they can peacefully rest. These undying wishes are sometimes completed with the help of other people closely connected with the deceased significant in question.

"I want you to move on from me."

"Enko? Is that really your undying wish?"

She had an empathetic look on her face, knowing what trouble she would be getting into.

"Of course I do. There's nothing I want from this world than for you to move on from me."

I remember how deep we were in love. Almost everyday never went by a loving remark about each other. We understood each other's feelings just by looking deep into each other's eyes. Everyone knew how close we were, despite not showing any public affection on the college campus. They'd always pass remarks around us. Some would comment how caring I was towards her despite having my own needs and being a guy. I never understood the point of my gender, but nevertheless, I couldn't care enough. Some would compliment her on her boldness, and how contrasting we were.

Everyone knew how heartbroken I was, when I saw her lifeless corpse in front of that god forsaken car.

Her best friend murdered her.

I couldn't sleep any nights, I could never focus on basic tasks, I couldn't even look her her pictures without breaking down. I couldn't attend her funeral,no matter how hard I tried.

I never grieved for her properly, and I could never move on. I still carried the sorrow with me, 3 years from then.

Even if I couldn't,I wanted to try. I want her to rest peacefully.

I want to complete her undying wish.

She smiled brightly, as I heard a loud buzz that sounded quite familiar interfering with my dream.

And I woke up.

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