#it's been a fixture for how many years now??? inexplicable
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Al Pacino shrek phone
I don't think he will ever get rid of that phone case lmao
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Absurd Person #1 - Monkey D. Luffy (kid)
Let’s start with not only the main protagonist of One Piece but also the first character to give Luffy any sort of injury...
...his dumb, seven-year-old self...
*Disclaimer: I don’t own this image - screenshot from Episode of East Blue
The last time I wrote this, I forgot to hit save and my browser just reloaded the page and lost everything. After that I just went “I’m done” and rage quit Tumblr for the night (which I normally don’t do). That’s how my Sundays usually go😒🥴
Now Onward!
Basic Classifications
Real World Ethnicity/Nationality: Brazilian
Class: farm / country / lower class
Culture (the one he grew up around): Dawn Island - Sea-side village
Fishing community
Farming / Ranching community
Hard work ethic
Small and close community members; relatively friendly; little to non-existent conflict
Selective mix of being open towards strangers (especially with merchant vessels for better trading opportunities) and weariness towards those they expect to be harmful (likes Pirates; I’d imagine the people of Windmill Village were understandably unnerved with the Red-Haired Pirates first showing up).
Core values (personal to Luffy): pride, physical strength, adventures on and outside his home village,
Relation to authority: neutral - shifting slightly towards negative (no clear basis of opinion; can only go off on Luffy’s fascination with pirates as the main viewpoint)
(The added information feels a little scatter-shot but figured I give it a try based on little information from the manga panels and how it lines up with real-world similarities. Most information is based on logical speculation and could change with new information in later chapters.)
I know that the Romance Dawn arc consists of the chapters up until he meets Coby and Alvida (I think...), but the depiction of Luffy’s character in the first chapter seems different from when he is seventeen and setting out to sea. So, I’ll treat kid Luffy as a separate character for the first analysis.
First Impressions and Introduction
Now, I am an anime watcher, first and foremost, so my first impression of this character stems from the Anime. My introduction towards this ball of chaos was when he popped out of a barrel, that he put himself into after realizing that a whirlpool suddenly appeared (how he missed it? - It’s Luffy), and then inexplicably took a nap in. That was the absurd reason I was able to stick with One Piece in the first few arcs (until Baratie became one of the major reasons I stuck with it - I’ll explain why when we get there).
And since the first chapter was used for episode four in the anime, I was already somewhat familiar with how the story started and who Luffy was as a kid. However, reading the first chapter felt....different than what I would’ve expected. And because the anime cut out a few details from the chapter, there definitely are some things to take from kid Luffy at that point.
So my first impression was, as follows:
The kid is unhinged...That explains some things...
Complete wild child of a backwater village from Day 1.
LIKE-- The anime episode DID NOT explain how he got that scar and the guy didn’t bring it up ever. To be fair, that wasn’t a big focus because the anime didn’t make it a focus. Reading that part though did more for his character and a little of his upbringing, through speculation, making it a rather slow-building but also fascinating introduction into this series.
Just a bit of an add-on, but if the manga introduced Luffy in the same level of neutrality as what the Anime did, It may not have fully made it clear if Luffy was going to be the main protagonist. Then again, it’s a shounen manga, maybe it was rather obvious to everyone else. Regardless, his introduction served to
(1) Make his entrance memorable
(2) Establish his character that could either compare or set him apart from his teen self.
(3) Act as a sort of precursor towards the introduction of Luffy’s world and upbringing (which isn’t completely established until the last few arcs of Pre-Time Skip)
Personality
The best way I could describe Luffy at this point is a stereotypical kid...
Energetic, short-tempered, adventure-seeking, easily impressed, and ignorant...
That last description is actually something I brought up in a separate post about the “Fluid themes” of One Piece. Because I found that a small but overarching part in many (almost all) themes and world issues that One Piece reflects has some level of unawareness or apathy. Jimbe put it best during the Fishman Island Flashback when they found Koala (paraphrasing)
“They are afraid of us because they don’t know us.”
Know us referring to acknowledging them as people on the same level as humans.
Because of that and plenty of other instances from the East Blue, it can be a potential center for many characters who go up against or wish to explore the world and find that they are a frog in a well.
And that’s what kid Luffy represents. A rather aggressive frog in a well that wants out.
Granted, he is a seven-year-old, whose schooling has a closer equivalent to the 16th and 17th centuries of our world, living in what appears to be a farming community, so I’d imagine his education only focuses on at least the basic levels of reading/writing, mathematics, etc. A small, unexciting farming village probably has more concerns over their melon crops rather than what the world has going on. Adding in Luffy, you get a kid who dreams about being a pirate and adventuring outside the isolated village, making him avidly interested in a world he has no experience with. Or in a world he thinks is all fun and games.
That’s pretty standard for any child that has a mild and peaceful life. No doubt Shanks and his crew would tell him stories about their adventures. Not as a sort of attempt to make him a pirate, but because he was easily entertained by it, building up this expectation with stereotypical pirate personas. And whether he has his “destructive” tendencies before they became a fixture in Windmill Village, they definitely seemed to amp it up enough for Luffy to try and prove he was “man enough” to be a pirate at seven years old.
Then when you add in this idealistic expectation with the selfishness of a young child, it creates an opportunity to learn. Because, as any kid may go through, will find that their fantasy of the world won’t be what they expected, and will often react negatively. Luffy’s expectation of Shanks is that he is the strongest man worthy enough to be a pirate.
Now, Luffy’s view of a “real man” stems a lot from this stereotype of men solving their problems through fighting only. Which also embodies this rather damaging philosophy of never running away or backing down from a fight (which I refer to as stupid bravery - something that comes up in a certain other character).
The amazing thing about all the combined aspects of this kid is the ability to create a learning lesson for Luffy. Which can become a motivational factor in his pursuit as a pirate.
His easily impressed nature makes it known both when the Red-Haired Pirates talk positively about piracy adventures and when Shanks leaves the village. The difference between the moments can be showcased by the difference in determination and will to make an effort to achieve his dream. As he declared he wants to be King of The Pirates, he sets himself to work at it, rather than try and go with others.
How He Shapes the Story / World Around Them
I don’t know if anybody else made a similar connection (I wanna say someone DID but I can’t remember where) but in combination with Luffy’s general enthusiasm growing up hearing wild stories, his narrative reminds me so much of Don Quixote De La Mancha.
It’s been a while since I last read that story-- and by read I mean translate some paragraphs from Spanish to English during my Spanish I class in freshman year of high school. Nonetheless, I thoroughly enjoyed the story. Part I entails an old man who, after indulging himself with various stories of knights and valor, decides he wants to partake in his own adventures. Under various delusions and misadventures, his story becomes a rather well-known one.
Don Quixote was called the first “modern book”. That was something my Spanish teacher mentioned regarding its acknowledgment by the world and always stuck with me. It was one of the first stories of the early medieval period to focus on a regular man. Other stories before this tended to be about legends, gods, demigods-- individuals who often were referred to as legends because they were born into high status (often above humans). Either through original texts (often for religious purposes) and then through varying interpretations (such as the Arthurian Legends), these tales were a part of the status quo.
Kid Luffy is a person that reflects so much of the Don Quixote story (And not just because his village has windmills-- the most iconic scene about the knight’s story). He is that simple, normal boy that longs for his own adventures when there seemingly is already a well-talked-about story about someone who achieved infamy. In place of that is a man named Gold Roger whose execution we see in the manga’s opening. At this point, we don’t have much understanding about how it impacts the world as of yet, we just know it is setting up for something significant to the story.
Luffy becomes that “regular” person from a small-town with big expectations for a grand adventure.
That perspective can slowly build into the story by starting in a simple setting with a character going through one of the first dynamic changes in his life. Luffy’s experience with Shanks’s sacrifice sets a course in his own adventure. A story that trails into a rather bonkers adventure at the end of chapter 1.
His development is what shaped his world. It’s the way he learns when as it stems from the consequences of his actions. Especially ones where the smaller ones turn out to be very costly, making it a hard lesson that ingrains into the young kid. His actions created by his old ideologies sparked an intense reaction in the people around him. Especially Shanks, who felt he was worth losing an arm towards.
How The WORLD Shapes HIM
So, for the sake of the fact that kid Luffy’s “World” in Chapter 1 mostly consists of Windmill Village, I’m adding in Shank’s and his crew’s influence to extend and further give credence to his influence. Because, as of this point, Shanks represents a glimpse into the life of a pirate that Luffy strives for.
With Luffy being in a quiet environment all seven years of life, there is growth through basic schooling and healthy child development (theoretically since Makino seems to be the most likely one acting as his guardian), instead of doing things outside that norm. Now Shanks is the odd factor that creates new development into Luffy’s dreams and future ambitions.
The crew’s stories, charisma, and connection towards the kid actively (and probably unintentionally) created a positive expectation if he chose to pursue his dream. While that sounds inspiring, there were also negative aspects. Such as driving his ignorance and impatient nature to seek it out too early in his life.
Shanks then became a mediator. Luffy often has mixed feelings with Shanks as the man begets a level of encouragement while verbally making fun of Luffy for being a kid constantly. Despite that, it doesn’t completely deter Luffy’s ambitions. All it does is slowly drop his high expectations in Shanks after the first bar incident. This is again done by his childish outlook of physical strength and bravery equating to his ideal of a real man.
With Higama, Luffy learns about real-world dangers, and how bravery won’t always be enough to win battles. The same can be said for physical strength but at that moment it doesn’t apply to Luffy.
Shanks’ and the crew’s involvement helped Luffy’s views change. His expectations are fulfilled, which in turn reveal that he was wrong about them.
Finally, seeing Shanks’ sacrifice unfold drove Luffy into a pang of newfound guilt. By then, he was able to change one part of his world views from a childish fantasy into the beginnings of a mature way of thinking.
He gains some level of patience. Along with a set goal to work with. Attributes which are identifiable with Luffy in the chapters last few panels.
Patience = Luffy took time to train and learn to set sail at age seventeen.
Set goal = Be King of the Pirates
Add-Ons
When I say that kid Luffy, after Shanks’ sacrifice, gained a level of patience, it is meant as a deduction during that chapter. By no means am I insinuating that it became a permanent trait for his character. Because as of chapter 1, all of Luffy’s personality has yet to be revealed.
And this will apply to other posts for various characters. They may behave in ways during or in response to a particular event but it doesn’t necessarily equate to that becoming a whole personality trait. Calling Luffy patient, with having full acknowledgment of his personality during the bulk of One Piece, is completely off. But, there can and will be moments where Luffy will act patient when he deems it necessary.
This is a little hard to articulate but I hope it makes enough sense.
🏴☠️🐒
After-Notes
Here’s my first attempt at this analysis. It felt scattered even after editing everything. Breaking down characters sounds easy (and most times it is) but articulating and connecting things takes a lot of work.
Here's to hoping it gets easier with the next character. And maybe shorter paragraphs.
Up Next: Shanks (East Blue)
#OPA#One Piece#East Blue Saga#Romance Dawn Arc#Monkey D. Luffy#Chapter 1#One Piece Characters#Worldbuilding#Analysis
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Oh as Some PERFECT Examples
of remuddling, there’s shit that was done to MY house (prior to us purchasing it)----and that’s with a lot of stuff being left alone, so it was still, largely, unspoiled and move in ready....
Carpeting throughout the upstairs and in the downstairs hall/bedroom
All the woodwork painted, versus restored (someday....someday...)
The door between the kitchen and dining room inexplicably removed (I need to repaint it!)
Completely hideous, random lighting fixtures installed
Pillars removed between the two areas of the living room
A hideous front door
With the kitchen----to place the stove in a new spot (while opting to leave an entire wall empty and floating), the fab pass through in the builtin in the dining room was boarded up and replaced with a mirror in dining room.....
These are all features I’d have loved to have had....
Fortunately, many are fixable/reversible (and I’ve been doing quite a few over the course of this year) but some, like the pass through and the pillars, were vintage charm that can’t really be reversed and would’ve added to the house value.
TBH-----IDK how much was done by the flippers who briefly owned my house before the lady I bought it from----OR had been done slowly, over time, by the verrrryyyyy rude people who once dropped by, with an old lady (who had been born in my house and was now suffering from dementia), a tacky mail order wife of her son (who wasted no opportunity to insult my taste---yes, I politely asked them in----and moped that the house was no longer the pink she had painted it) and her sulky teen all enacting an episode of Moving Up...
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Kate Beckinsale plastic surgery
Now (a too gorgeous) 41 years of ages, British-born Kate Beckinsale got her start way back in the very early '90s with well-known TV functions in 'Cold Convenience Farm' and also 'Em ma', as well the Kenneth Branagh film adjustment of 'Much Ado About Nothing.' Click here and now about starlets USA!
However, it wasn't until she starred alongside Claire Danes in 1999's 'Brokedown Royal residence' that Kate became a household name here in The United States and Canada and big-budget motion pictures like 'Pearl Harbor,' 'Luck' and 'The Aviator' quickly followed.
Nowadays, Kate is more known for her current operation in the 'Underworld' collection, yet she's still a red carpet fixture, leading us to our task today. In her rise to A-list name acknowledgment, how has Kate's charm appearance transformed along the road?
The year 1992
First off, a picture shoot from 1992, when Kate was simply 19 years old. Who knew she had such a mane of hair on her? It's also perfect to see such an all-natural, un-styled version of Kate-- considering that now she's always so über-groomed.
The year 1993
Check out this English rose elegance. (She always did have fantastic skin, I see.) Remember of her nose, incidentally-- as it's one feature I believe has altered for many years.
The year 1995
The same year, Kate lightened and chopped her hair into this inexplicably hostile shaggy design. Also, still, she's relatively cute (she was 22 here). I'm getting a little a Winona vibe below. Also: just how much do you want to bet she wishes she had these brows now? Do not pluck your eyebrows, youngsters.
Now prepare for some WTF-ery ...
The year 1996
Kate went through a type of Goth stage for a couple of years! I'm great with the super-short hair; it's the powdered white face I'm concerned about.
The year 1997
I guess she was quite into this appearance, as it persisted through 1997 too. Seriously, what is occurring right here? She looks like a lost member of The Remedy. As if the white face powder weren't low enough, there's ALSO baby blue eyeshadow, butterfly clips, and stringy hairs covering her face. Notification her smile, which was gummier at that time, as well as a bit tarnished (Kate's a life-long smoker).
The year 1998
The good news is, by 1998, she was welcoming an extra natural skin surface-- though the butterfly clips were still hanging around. Kate was expecting her (with Michael Sheen's child), and she is beautiful. Browse and origins are regrettable, but her nose looks a little bit extra button-like. Did she have a rhinoplasty at some point around this time around?
The year 2001
Three years later on, in 2001, Kate's star was climbing big-time-- as well as you can tell. She's ended up being much more glam and "Hollywood-looking" suddenly. I think you can chalk it up to several adjustments: the faux tan, the shiny solid-colored hair, the sophisticated makeup as well as most importantly, the whiter/straighter teeth. I believe she obtained veneers, as well as possibly had a laser periodontal reshaping also. (I've had the gum tissue point also-- it's an AMAZING procedure.) Teeth make a huge difference!
The year 2003
At age 30, Kate succumbed to the streaky highlight fad of the moment. Looking back now, this hair seems so dated. Luckily, her brows are making superior healing from the over-plucking. Also, please take a look at her nose below-- again, it's very button-like versus the old days.
The year 2004
By 2004, Kate's makeover to a California woman was virtually complete. She dumped the high-contrast highlights and opted for a lighter color throughout.
The year 2006
Two years later on, at 33, Kate had lastly hit her beauty stride. I assume she looks incredible with her hair up, as well as in the darker chestnut color. This is Kate's "Life Hair." The issue is, the eyebrows appear to be skinnier again; uncertain why.
The year 2008
Kate flaunted another excellent updo in 2008. Will you look at her skin? As well as she has a beautiful hairline, also. I think this might've been when the injectables started, as her cheeks look a tiny bit plumped as well as her forehead is exceptionally smooth.
The year 2011
I believe you can certainly see the cheek fillers here. By this time, Kate was 38 years of age, so it makes sense that she'd be meddling with this stuff. What I'm questioning is if she had some put in her lips as well ...
The year 2013
She's still looking terrific in 2013, age 40. Although this make-up is amazing, I believe it's maybe a little aging versus the fresh-faced look she put on in 2008. Also, her cheeks are sticking out a little bit too much.
I like this shot, likewise from 2013. Possibly the fillers required to settle a bit? She looks a lot more all-natural here, and also, her skin is super-radiant and glowy. The whole look is glam as well as "done"; it advises me entirely of Megan Fox's ambiance (post-filler experiments, of course).
The year 2014
I'm not feeling this wavy, off-the-face hairdo, neither the lighter color... and again, her cheeks seem a little puffy? Yet, I do like the subtle makeup on her. Lady is 41 and also still quite a beauty.
The year 2015
Hmm, I'm unsure if it's the muddy blush or overdone injections, yet her cheeks are sticking out and look really "wood" here.
The year 2016
I like that she took a threat with her eye makeup in this one (although the blush selection is again not quite right). Her ultra-smooth forehead suggests Botox make use of, and her lips most definitely seem plumped-up.
The year 2017
This is a bit even more all-natural! The gown impressive; however, the bright blue liner and textured high ponytail feel fresh and youthful. If this is 44, Kate is doing something right!
Final thought
There's been speculation that Kate's "had work done," yet she's neither validated neither rejected. I assume a great technique-- since it's so sanctimonious when they denounce such points a la Nicole Kidman.
Directly, I have always believed she was an unbelievably lovely female, and also would certainly have been even if she'd maintained her nose precisely the very same. Sure, her filler usage could be more conservative, but I do not think she's gone to the extremes like much of her peers. (Update: Well, in 2015-2016, I think she did overdo it, however in 2017 appears to have called it back.).
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My Favorite ML Fics (With links and descriptions)
One Thing After Another - Marinette notices that, sometimes, Adrien acts a little out of the ordinary--like the time he stood in a cardboard box for no reason, or when he actually hissed at Nino. It's only when she starts to notice the similarities between Adrien and a certain feline that she begins to get suspicious.
Basically, Adrien acts like a cat when he probably shouldn't.
Back to Us - After a reveal so shocking it rocks the core of Paris itself, the villain Hawk Moth is finally defeated...at a great personal cost to heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir. With the city safe, they go their separate ways, returning to the lives they were forced to put on hold since receiving their Miraculous.
Now, seven years later, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is on the rise, studying at the fashion college of her dreams by day, working at her dream internship by afternoon...and occasionally moonlighting as Ladybug by night. This routine is set so firmly in place that, once it's shattered by an old-yet-new enemy, and the reappearances of a cold friend and a hot partner, the whiplash threatens to send Marinette spiraling down into chaos.
As Ladybug, she can do anything...but soon those limits will be tested, whether she is in or out of the costume
Truthful Scars - Adrien Agreste has never been an expert in controlling his emotions. When feelings for his classmate in pigtails begin to arise, he can't stop himself from seeing her any chance he gets—even when wearing a pair of cat ears and a black tail. Although his affections are strong and true, he doesn't exactly know how to deal with them, especially under the watchful eye of his father.
After all, what's a boy to do when he accidentally finds out that the girl he's got a crush on returns his feelings?
[Obsession - Miraculous has unintended side effects. A chance encounter leaves Chat Noir in Marinette's magic hands. Scritch and scratch, this kitty has needs. MariChat.
Glaze - He watched her fade, right before his eyes, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Quiver - Spring in Paris, a time for flowers and love, for fashion and passion. But heated blood can lead to dangerous decisions and Adrien’s about to discover how hard things can be. Hawk Moth is on the horizon. COMPLETE]
Smoulder - Marinette traced her fingers down the smooth lines of the magazine, a blush creeping to her face. It wasn’t just his toned, muscular body that set her aflame, although that was certainly a bonus. It was his eyes. The way his body appeared, languid like a summers day. His body said relax but his eyes said devour. From the pages of the advertisement, Adrien smouldered in a way that he’d never done during any of his other numerous photographs, and yet she was struck with a familiarity that made her skin tingle, made her swallow with sudden and surprising nervousness. She was sure she’d seen that expression somewhere before. A pair of green eyes looking at her like that, with an unknown question in his hungry gaze. She’d seen that smoulder before.
In which Adrien loses a bet and becomes an underwear model, Marinette loses her mind, and the whole fiasco starts a fire which might lead to the pair discovering their identities.
Telltale - It all starts with a simple injury, but slowly Ladybug begins to really see who Chat Noir is, and Adrien begins to see Marinette…
Pick-Up and Chase - After she accidentally trips into Adrien and apologizes about "falling for him," Marinette learns that he's no match for cheesy pick-up lines--whether they were unintended or not. And while she finds it flattering that he turns into a flustered mess with only a few words, Marinette comes to regret making him uncomfortable. That is, until she learns he's Chat Noir. At which point the phrase "just desserts" becomes a permanent fixture in her everyday plans. A story in which Adrien is flustered, Marinette is smooth as glass at dropping lines, and Chat Noir gets the romance he was always asking for--even if he doesn't quite know how to handle it
Won’t Tell a Soul - Nino accidentally runs head long into the biggest most stressful secret he can imagine, but now that he knows the truth about Marinette he is determined to help her in any way he can.
Serendipitous Fate Adrien is excited to reveal his true identity, while Marinette is terrified. But Master Fu says they can't afford to be distant any longer. Chat Noir and Ladybug are meant to work in tandem both in and out of uniform, their strength stemming from the bond created between them. Yet, teenagers are sometimes better at dancing blind than running with wide open eyes, even with the steps laid out before them.
Steps in the path of an expanding world. Apart, they'll flounder. But together, they might just stand a chance.
Anywhere, I wouldve followed you - Indygodusk "Just because you care for something, doesn't mean you get to keep it."
Lately, Marinette's luck has been failing her. No one's guessed her secret identity yet, but after Hawk Moth escalates his attacks, she decides it's time to finally tell Chat Noir. Unfortunately, it's not that easy. To make things worse, her home life is falling apart, college is looming, and she can't keep a boyfriend. Secretly, Marinette's not sure she even wants to be Ladybug anymore.
Adrien's life isn't faring much better, especially after dark secrets about his mother come to light.
Then the unthinkable happens. Afterwards, both Adrien and Marinette have to make their own luck. In the process, they defeat the bad guy and make their dreams come true (even if those dreams weren't what they thought they'd be).
Sting - When Chat Noir inexplicably disappears, leaving Ladybug bee-hind to face Papillon on her own, a new wielder is chosen to keep the akuma from swarming. Ladybug is adamant she doesn’t want another partner buzzing around and why is this new-bee flirting with her?
Meanwhile, Adrien just wishes Ladybug would stop bugging out and listen to him because his bee puns are fuzz-tastic.
The repercussions of the bee are farther reaching than anyone realised.
The Parts of You - “I just…” Her hands migrated from covering her face to clutching her hair. Her ears matched her suit but her eyes were glowing with — what was that? Love? Admiration? His chest tightened. “I can’t talk to him! I always get tongue-tied, or say something stupid, or trip over my own feet. It’s so embarrassing! I mean, I’ve gotten better since we first met, like, we’re actually kind of friends now, but it’s kind of a big leap to go from ‘I can sort of string more than two words together in front of you,’ to ‘Please date me, I love you,’ you know?” His breath hitched at the word “love,” but Ladybug didn’t seem to notice. “Plus, it’s not like we’re super-close or anything. I mean,” she tittered nervously, “we’ve known each other for years, but it’s not like talking to you.”
If words could have killed him he would have been in his grave.
In which Identity Shenanigans™ make everyone's life way harder than it has to be.
Breeze - Marinette sobbed into her hands as she recalled Chloé’s hurtful words, each and every one of them.
“You’re nothing! You’re not even worth yourself, much less your so-called friends! Don’t you see they just hang out with you because they pity you?! You’re worth the dirt under my feet, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And you have no right to speak to me like that, you pathetic little brat. You don’t even have the right to speak to anyone! Just keep your stupid thoughts and ideas to yourself because nobody wants to hear them!”
After a big fight with Chloé, Marinette finds herself sobbing on her bed. The words hit her deep down. And before she knows it a dark Akuma comes fluttering in, ready to introduce her to Hawkmoth…
Technical Difficulties - “Man,” Nino groans, accepting defeat at last, as he gives the golden elevator doors a vicious, vengeful kick. Just like that, he remembers his present company.
Nino turns chagrined eyes to Ladybug.
“Er. Sorry… Probably shouldn’t take it out on the doors?”
Ladybug doesn’t seem to hear him. She is staring hard at the security camera located in the corner. He’s never seen her so quiet… not that he’s seen much of her, that is. Definitely not this close.
Damn, he can’t help but think. What Adrien wouldn’t give to be here right now.
“I’m sure they’ll fix it soon,” Nino offers tentatively, because it seems like something Adrien might say. Or Ladybug, probably, if she weren’t so distracted.
“They will,” she acknowledges, but her eyes are still pretty far away. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
“What?“
Ladybug straightens. She makes a decision; it does really pretty things to her eyes, so Nino doesn’t hear her at first, when she asks him for his hat.
— In which Ladybug gets trapped in an elevator with... Nino. { LoveSquare, brotp!MariNino, all-around-friendship!fic } Prompt:Trapped in an Elevator.
Curiosity and Satisfaction - When Adrien agreed to this line of work, he thought all his focus would be on the job of catching the elusive Lady Luck. It never crossed his mind that someone else would catch his attention.
Turn Loose the Mermaids - Marinette should have dragged him under the water in and feast on his body when she had the chance. Maybe then she wouldn't have been his prisoner. Blasted pirate.
That awkward moment when… - “Marinette wasn’t an idiot. As many precautions as she insisted they take, she knew she and Chat Noir were both going to find out sooner or later. Of course, Marinette assumed that the way they’d found out wasn’t by running right smack into each other and detransforming in front of the other. So of course, in a typical calm and rational manner, they pointed to each other and screamed.”
Because, nine times out of ten, letting the cat out of the bag just ends up being very, very awkward.
Tandem - Two students get carried away in a friendly game of dodge ball.... and two other students get very suspicious
Best Frenemies - Marinette Dupain-Cheng leads a double life. It’s often difficult, but it’s the only way to protect the people she cares about. But when her rival, Chloé Bourgeois, discovers her most closely guarded secret, she finds the two separate aspects of her identity blending together… but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. It can be nice sharing the journey with someone even if it's the last person she ever expected to trust with her secrets.
Chloé Bourgeois leads a double life. It’s often difficult, but it’s the only way to protect the people she cares about. But when her rival, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, discovers her most closely guarded secret, she finds the two separate aspects of her identity blending together… but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. It can be nice sharing the journey with someone even if it's the last person she ever expected to trust with her secrets.
The Date - They had a simple deal: one date. Chat had one date to sweep Ladybug off her feet. If she still didn’t like him in that way at the end of the day, he’d give up his attempts altogether. Ladybug took the deal, knowing that her heart belonged to another.
But we know them too well.
Wherever I Go - Marinette accidentally gives her class the impression that she has a crush on Chat Noir.
Adrien decides it's time to get over Ladybug.
Ne Me Quitte Pas - “This is my umbrella,” Adrien told him, as though he didn't quite believe it and the words would bring some sense to it.
“Even I could have told you that,” the kwami said with a shrug, his focus returning to his meal.
“Why did she keep my umbrella?” he asked, only half-directing the question at Plagg.
The kwami, however, chose to answer anyway. “Well, she is your friend, isn't she?” he asked as he finally gave in and stuffed the cheese in his mouth. He swallowed, closing his eyes in satisfaction. “What's so weird about it?”
Bring Me Home - Everybody deals differently with the consequences of Hawkmoth's defeat.
The day after, Ladybug eagerly awaits her silly kitty, finally ready to hand him her heart and start a new chapter of their story with him. He never shows up.
The day after, Adrien Agreste shuts the whole world out, ashamed of his father's action, while Marinette grows more and more exhausted and depressed as the years go by.
Five years later, can anything really be salvaged out of the remnants of their relationship?
Kitten Therapy - After scoring the highest points in a stress level test at school Marinette and Adrien have to take 'recreational hours' in order to prevent being akumatized. It seems like a long awaited break for them until Ayla hacks into CCTV and discovers …?
Mostly fluff. Especially the kittens.
Eperdument - All the pieces are starting to fit together, as much as Marinette doesn't want them to fit. As much as she desperately fights against seeing the signs, sometimes the cat refuses to stay in the bag.
And sometimes the cat kwami refuses to stay out of her lunch bag.
I Didn’t Want it to be Like This - There was always the possibility that someone would find out. Marinette, Paris’s very own Ladybug, knew that it was a high chance. Eventually someone was going to put two and two together.
The Most Eloquent Reply - Deaf Marinette
MDR - Marinette liked not knowing much about her online friends. With the arrival of a newcomer to their group chat, they suddenly start to believe that she has a crush on herself, no matter how obvious she tries to make it that she likes someone else. AU.
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Sabotage: Chapter one
Characters:
Keanu Reeves, Y/N, Andi, possibly Chad Stahelski appearance; who knows?
Summary: You and Keanu have been friends for a couple years after working together on several movies. But what happens when someone comes in and tries to ruin the friendship.
Warnings: Angst, Fights, Curse words... just a bag of just MESS.
———————————————————
You sat there silently, listening to the other end of the line; your breathing caught in a fight to escape your chest to your throat and out of your mouth, but it wouldn’t come.
The words that spewed out of their mouth like fire, you were sure they were flavored with honey as they praised the woman they had been working with the past year; now, however, things had turned on a dime, there were — feelings.
“... and she talked about us three grabbing dinner tomorrow night at Bacchus...” He said.
“Y/N? ...”
“Y/N? Are you even listening?”
“Yeah, sorry, Ke.” You cleared your throat, a sigh escaping your parted lips.
To be overwhelmed was an understatement, you were absolutely in panic mode as the realization came that you had a feeling you couldn’t shake.
You had this inexplicable sensation that this girl Keanu was purring over was not all she had painted to be, something perturbed you but, you’d give her a fair shot, maybe it was just you being protective of your friend.
———————————————————
Two years earlier
———————————————————
You sat on the couch, your fingers and mind aimlessly swiping your thumb across the screen of your phone. Your trailer was the perfect home away from home, decorated with trinkets of your actual home that laid tucked into the hills of California; your favorite color danced around you in the atmosphere.
You had been on set for exactly three months, filming the first in many franchises you’d grace your presence with, the fourth installment of The Matrix.
You had been ecstatic about getting the role of Crash, the savvy and sarcastic computer programmer/hacker that was planned to save the next human race when she would revive Neo and Trinity, or rather, if she could.
You had always wanted to meet the star of the movie, Keanu Reeves, but it proved to be trickier than you’d originally thought until the script landed in your managers hands and then the role subsequently fell into yours.
——
A knock at the door interrupted your mindless scrolling; standing up you groaned, the line work had put you in a state of torment, your body sore and bruised.
You swung the door open revealing the source of the knock, Keanu.
Your mouth parted to say something, anything, but nothing would forfeit out of your vocal chords.
“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Y/N, but I was wondering if you’d happen to have a cigarette? I’m out and in all honesty, too tired to go to the gas station.” He chuckled, a sheepish grin forming on his mug.
“Of course, Mr. Reeves, I actually have a pack you can have.” You smiled softly, moving into your trailer grabbing the two packs and the lighter that was atop of the cartons before stepping outside.
“You know you can call me Keanu, right?” He said muffled as he placed the cigarette in between his lips, lighting it successfully on the first try.
“Keanu..well, if that’s the case then just call me Y/N.” You smiled softly, placing a cigarette between your lips and taking a sharp inhale.
———————————————————
You and Keanu struck up a friendship quickly, gossip blogs never ceased to follow you two around, penning you two together like a royal couple of the film arts.
But it was far from the truth, nothing ever was between you; but now, something didn’t feel right, something sat deep within your gut about this female he had been blabbering on about for the past hour, two hours? You zoned out often.
“So the dinner— tomorrow? Me, you, and... I’m sorry what’s her name again?” You sighed, lighting a cigarette up, not caring if the offensive smell lingered in your house.
“Andi. Her name is Andi.” He said shortly, your stomach churned thinking if Keanu was angry at you for the forgetfulness.
“Sorry, I was somewhere else when you brought her name up. Anyway, yeah, tomorrow night, 7, Bacchus. Sounds good to me.” You said hastily trying to get off the phone, you simply couldn’t take another second of his incessant speech about this woman.
“Alright, yeah, 7.” He said sighing into the line before hanging up without a goodbye.
You sat there, phone in hand, thoughts like a rolodex.
——
The night felt full of dread as you went through your routine of picking a dress, heels, and wether or not to smoke a whole pack of cigarettes.
The thought of suddenly dying amused you more than having a nice dinner date with your friend, although, before you’d love nothing more than to sit across from the man, but now, the tides changed with the new moon, a woman was thrown into the atmosphere and now suddenly you had a sickening feeling that it wasn’t all pretty fixtures and flowers.
You slipped your new dress on, it reached your thighs; black, pairing it with black high heels and a black leather jacket that rested perfectly on your waist.
You sighed as you did dark makeup, you normally favored lighter tones to bring out your eyes but tonight, was a funeral of sorts, at least that’s what your instinct screamed.
——-
“Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here..” Keanu rushed to your side, holding the umbrella over you as the abnormal Los Angeles rain fell onto the pavement. You had just stepped out of the Uber, opting out to drive through the Saturday night traffic in your own vehicle.
“What makes you think I’d miss seeing my favorite man?” You looked up at him, a sweet smile tugging on your blood red lips, you had decided in the car to put some lipstick on, red being the classiest choice.
Keanu kisses your cheek, his hand firmly resting on the small of your back. Protectively. Guiding you inside the restaurant.
His hand dropping as the two of you approached the round table.
Then you saw her.
Andi.
She had short brunette waves with flecks of grey tucked hidden away, her eyes were this piercing emerald.
She stood up to meet you, she was taller than what you had expected.
Her hand reached for yours, her handshake making your stomach churn.
“Keanu has told me so many great things of you.” Andi said with a smile, her eyes flashing between you and Keanu.
“Well, I’d hope so.” You half heartedly laughed, shaking her hand in response.
——
After dinner and exhausting conversations about how the two met and eventually began a romantic agenda, you had excused yourself to the side door for a quick smoke. The alley was dark but you weren’t worried if someone were to grab you.
You had your back turned when you heard the door shut behind you, you thought it was maybe Keanu joining you, but alas, you were wrong.
You saw her in your peripheral, an exhale of smoke billowed from your pout. You decided to play nice and not warn her that you would end her existence if she would happen to fuck up with Keanu.
“So I think it’s pretty cool you made that one, uh, sculpture. The picture you showed me looked pretty cool — twisted up like that.” You said in a bid to compliment her on her arts.
She looked at you, the facade crumbling.
She smoothed her hair back with her fingers, a soft laugh erupted from her lips as she stepped closer to you. Her face only several inches from yours.
“You know, he thinks you’re annoying..” she started, causing your adrenaline to feed into your body, your heart raced.
“He got off the phone with you last night and told me how immature you really are, how you can’t even pay the simplest attention to hold a conversation.”
“He’s told me how he didn’t even want to work with you, he just did it because his manager told him it would be good publicity and a good role change.”
You and Keanu had in turn did a high-grossing horror film together the past year. You gulped not knowing what to say, tears threatening to fall.
“You should save yourself some embarrassment and just go home — he’s going to confess, after we sit back down, that he doesn’t want to be friends with you anymore, because, how did he put it, you’re too immature, reckless, and he thinks it’s creepy you have some high school crush on him...”
The last phrase hit you hard.
With the cigarette long abandoned, you gathered yourself and maneuvered your way through the restaurant and grabbed your purse.
Keanu looked up at you concerned, his hand reaching for yours — he didn’t find it.
You rushed outside, rain hitting your face as the tears spilled; you didn’t care to call an Uber or hail a cab.
You, however, failed to notice Keanu rushing after you.
“Y/N?” He yelled but you didn’t turn around, instead, you kept walking.
Finally reaching your house after what felt like hours, you slammed the door behind you, stripping your dress off as it felt like a noose at this point and slid down the door, knees to your chest.
“Fuck them. I don’t.. I don’t need anybody.” You cried out, voice rattling like the broken heart in your chest and rib cage.
You fell asleep at your door that night, too exhausted to rise to your feet; too empty not to care anymore.
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Distribution
Sorry this was meant to go up yesterday, but things got in the way, so you're getting parts 7 and 8 tonight instead!
7: Distribution
Summary: In the early days, running International Rescue was a very similar process. The calls came in and he distributed their resources as he saw fit.
Words: 1440
Spoilers: None. Potential references to 'Relic' [S1E15], but no real spoilers.
----
Distribution, thanks to years in business, was a process that Jeff was highly familiar. It was a large part of his life, after all.
And in the early days, running International Rescue was a very similar process. The calls came in and he distributed their resources as he saw fit. It was harder though, harder than business.
Because these weren't products or figures he was talking about, rather real flesh and blood: his flesh and blood, his sons. And unlike cargo which you could mostly reorder and fix the supply chain, his boys couldn't be made again. They were once in a lifetime fixtures and one moment could lead to their downfall.
He thought for a long time, with Scott desperate to follow him - so much so that it was like kicking heels - whether he was doing the right thing by his boys. It was one thing for Lee to help him; the man was knowledgeable and experienced and an adult. He'd lived a life and he knew what he was signing up for. Scott wanted to fly the TV-21, desperately, so much so that Jeff would have let him (with some assistance, when he knew it was safe), once it had survived the test flight–
But it didn't.
He'd come back, because he had experience in the field, and he knew what he needed to do. How could he expect the same of his sons? How could he push them into that life?
But he never had to. Lee was right on that account.
Scott was sad – a melancholy that rivalled Jeff's own – that they lost the TV-21 for days, but his eyes had brightened at Thunderbird One which emerged in its place. And John was almost just as bad, his eyes heading skyward every night as though they would bring the waiting Thunderbird Five into his orbit so he could simply climb on and fly away from gravity.
It hadn't taken long for Virgil's eyes to catch the wide-spreading spark either, and soon Jeff found himself inexplicably pairing his boys to the Thunderbirds he was designing. And then Gordon had seen there was a submersible in the works and – because he had been much younger then – signed himself up if it would give him the chance to find Mermaids. Jeff knew, then and there, that Virgil was going to hold onto that for blackmail material against the prankster.
He might be there father, but he wasn't blind.
He'd intended to build International Rescue and the Thunderbirds as a legacy to leave his sons, something they could be a part of one day maybe, when they'd lived out their own lives and had decided it was what they wanted to do. Decided that for themselves, not out of any sense of obligation either.
For a long time that was what he feared.
But by the time Scott was supposed to be leaving for college, it was clear he and John had made every plan to put their own feet down, so to speak, and fight their corner on the matter. Jeff was a little put out to not be the one doing the 'foot putting down' in that moment, but it was undeniable that Scott and John had thought this through with precision thinking (likely belonging to the red-head) which left little room for a counter argument.
Then Virgil had come rushing in demanding he wanted the same deal and agreed point blank with his brothers.
Jeff had never quite got the truth out of his boys, their faces all smiles and confusion and 'what do you mean, Dad?', but he knew anyway without needing to break through their charade. He was certain Virgil had been brought in on the plan and was planted to stay outside until such a time that his arrival would be key – like waiting for the opportune moment to move the right piece in chess. Yes, the impetus may have been Scott's, but that plan was undeniably John's.
No International Rescue, no college.
That was the boys very insistent position.
Jeff had argued almost until he was blue in the face, throwing out every reason except for the one which really lived in his heart. He didn't want his boys to think he had certain expectations of them… not ones like that anyway. If they wanted to do anything else with their lives, well that was ok with him, but it seemed – regardless of his opinions – they wanted in.
"I want Thunderbird One – the plans say it's the fastest."
"I have no interest in it. I'm having Five."
"Says who?"
"Says me because it's in Space."
"I'm not arguing that one," Scott assured. "I like gravity."
"Well, good, because I want Thunderbird Two."
Clearly that hadn't been discussed beforehand for Scott and John's eyes widened and brows furrowed. "Why?"
"I don't have to tell you my reasons."
"You don't have a reason do you, Virge?"
"Yes I do."
"Is Gordon right? Is it because you want to be like f-"
"We're done here! Right Dad?"
He nodded. Not really sure what he was meant to say as Virgil went about pushing his elder brothers from the room, leaving Jeff none the wiser as to his middle sons' ambition, nor reasons for wanting Two. Scott and John were obvious and always had been, so he didn't even need to ask. And ok, he couldn't deny they'd been the images in his mind, but he decided he wouldn't share those, not when the boys had taken such control over their own futures.
"You see, Jeff. You needn't have worried, just like I told you."
"I know, Lee. I know. But how was I supposed to know they all felt so strongly?"
"You could expect that enough as you can expect a meteor shower."
"Lee, we can predict meteor showers."
"Oh yeah… Well I guess that's my point."
"So you saw it coming did you?"
"Course I did! Not. Er, well, I'll be off."
"Yes, Thunderbird Five will nearly be ready after this upgrade."
"Right you are, Jeff. By the way, you don't mind that boy of yours coming with me, do ya'? Um… John?"
"John?"
"Claims it's his so he should accompany me."
He chuckled at that. Yes, he did – sort of, with a lack of words – agree to the boys having their own Thunderbirds, he supposed. It would be good for John to go up with Lee whilst they were finishing the final details of the space station too, good knowledge for the future, and he trusted Lee to teach on valuable lessons.
And he'd been up there many times. It was perfectly safe, just as safe as Thunderbird One now was, which had delighted Scott when he last came home on break. Yes, Jeff remembered the many hours he'd spent sat as a co-pilot whilst his eldest circled round the island trying to find his top speed and get used to the controls.
He supposed it would only be a matter of time before Virgil was itching to get his hands-on Thunderbird Two. Heck, his third son had already spent enough time being part of the paint job.
And then there was Gordon, who was still jumping around waiting for his chance at a test run (so he could see Mermaids, still, although he was much quieter about that since he realised Virgil could lord it over him).
He supposed it would only be a matter of time before he was redundant, sat back at his desk doing both but distribution. Well, there were a few years to go still, he was easily fit enough to keep going on missions, at least until he'd seen all the boys out on enough of their own.
"No, Lee, I don't mind at all."
And like that, his best friend was off, and a little after that he heard Thunderbird Three roaring to life in the low atmosphere.
Something in the back of his mind nagged at him, and he recognised it as the same feeling which had been present when Scott had been screaming his lungs to death at the joy of finally being allowed to fly his Thunderbird. One by one his boys were growing up, becoming a part of International Rescue, leaving him behind to think about how they were getting on.
He supposed he should fill that gap with something else, something productive, like work. Maybe Virgil would like to work on a little more than the paintwork…
Yes, he knew that one day he would be nothing more than the distribution man, but there were many years to go yet.
#thunderbirds are go#writers on tumblr#downwithwritersblock#march prompts#support your fanfic authors#scott tracy#John Tracy#Virgil Tracy#Gordon Tracy#Alan Tracy#Jeff Tray#Captain lee taylor#international rescue#Darkestwolfx
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Pocket demon
Five minutes after the shop had opened its doors, a middle-aged gentleman walked through the sliding doors, a basket swinging idly from his elbow. If you were to ask any of the unfortunate workers of this shop*, they would say that it was far too early to be this cheerful. Somehow, however, the gentleman’s bright mood was contiguous. Even Eve, who had spent all of last night preparing for her next exam and was thus tired and cranky, found herself smiling back as the man passed her, and when she returned to her shelf-stocking duties, she did so humming a lively tune under her breath.
*Or the staff of any other retailer.
Though everyone here knew the man’s name, the staff and regulars at the shop secretly referred to him either as ‘the gentleman’, 'that guy, you know, the one who’s gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide’ or, more commonly, 'angel’.
In his own head, the gentleman called himself 'Aziraphale’, since that was his given name.
Aziraphale was, like many other citizens of Soho, a regular in this shop. It was, unlike many other establishments, not part of a chain of supermarkets all across Britain and beyond, but privately owned, a fact that Aziraphale appreciated. He had long ago made the conscious decision to support local businesses, even if his support was largely limited to this shop, a handful of restaurants and bakeries in the area, and the weekly farmers market.
He came here every few days to do his shopping and had become somewhat of a fixture, just like the missing letter in the shop’s sign* or the cash registers that sometimes just crashed inexplicably, but only when manned by a young lad named Newton.
*It had been stolen more than a year ago by a group of teenagers on a dare, who had expertly crafted a detailed plan, complete with masks and codenames and imagined Mission Impossible music. This plan had been abandoned the moment the teenagers realised they didn’t have the money for walkie-talkies, so instead, one of them had borrowed their father’s step ladder which the group then used to climb up and remove the letter in the middle of the night. Back home, an hour and a few bottles of cheap beer later, the group unanimously agreed the whole thing had been disappointing and kind of boring, and also terribly rude. Though neither had the courage to return the letter, so now, a year later, it lay forgotten under one of the teenager’s beds, gathering dust. The shop was, by now, known not by its proper name but by the name sans the missing letter, which had its own kind of charm, really.
Aziraphale knew the shop by heart - he took special joy in alleviating the staff off some of their stress by helping out fellow customers - which was why he immediately noticed something was amiss when he entered the shop that day.
Next to the entrance, beneath the corkboard where locals post advertisements, stood a toy vending machine. Inside were countless hand-sized, see-through plastic balls that contained toys. Curious, Aziraphale stepped closer. He saw a frog, a reptile that he assumed to be a chameleon, a big fluffy fly, and other animals, both real and imaginary. The unicorn looked especially charming, in his opinion, but seemed to be the only of its kind, probably one of those rare items meant to entice children into buying more of the toys so they could get the big price.
Also unique, as far as Aziraphale could tell, was a snake with black scales and a red underbelly. Its eyes, Aziraphale noted with interest, were a mix of amber and gold, depending on which angle he chose to look at it, broken only by the thin lines of its pupils.
“Ah, Mister Fell!”
Aziraphale straightened up and turned to the nice lady that worked in the small, but lovely, flower section of the shop. He automatically smiled back and walked a few steps towards here. “Hello, Anathema.”
“I see you’ve noticed our newest addition.”
Aziraphale looked back to the vending machine. How peculiar; for a moment it had seemed as if the snake had uncoiled a little.
Shaking his head, Aziraphale turned his attention back to Anathema. “Quite. I have to admit I’m somewhat surprised. I didn’t expect to find one of these things in this particular shop. I wonder what made Madame Tracy decide to buy it?”
Anathema shrugged. “I’ve asked Newton, but he doesn’t know either, and he often helps her with her finances. He said he didn’t see an order put in for it, but it wouldn’t be the first time Madame Tracy bought something on a whim.”
Aziraphale, remembering that one time Madame Tracy had bought a wide selection of more adult-oriented toys with the intention of clearing a shelf for them*, nodded gravely
*A shelf in the back of the shop amidst the alcohol section, mind you. Madame Tracy would never expose minors to this sort of thing, even if she was a firm believer that today’s demonization of sex was wrong. Still, her staff had dissuaded her from the plan, so now the toys were sold in her office.
“Either way, I best let you get back to your shopping.” Anathema smirked and gestured to her flowers. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to buy a plant? It would look lovely in your bookshop.”
Not about to let Anathema know that making his shop look more inviting was about the last thing Aziraphale wanted*, Aziraphale gave the plants a polite look-over. “I’m afraid I have the opposite of a green thumb, my dear. Your flowers wouldn’t survive for long in my care. Best not to lead them to their certain doom, I say.”
*He had yet to figure out that everyone knew this already.
“One day I’ll convince you,” Anathema said with a wink. They’d been doing this ever since Anathema had been hired, half a year ago, almost word-for-word.
“We shall see, my dear, but I advise you not to get your hopes up.”
Aziraphale turned and was just about to continue into the shop proper when he saw something from the corner of his eyes. Doing a double-take, Aziraphale all but sprinted over to the vending machine and crouched down. In his surprise, he dropped his (thankfully empty) basket.
The snake had reared its head.
Yellow eyes with slits for pupils were staring right back at him.
There was a live snake in the machine.
#good omens#ineffable husbands#aziraphale#anthony j crowley#crowley x aziraphale#human!aziraphale#alternative universe#pocket demon
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Shadows of the Yiga | Chapter 16
When he came to, it was not without a splitting headache. He couldn’t even bring himself to open his eyes, but as his mind slowly came into focus, he listened to the sounds around him. It was very quiet, but not silent. From above him, there was the distinct hum of a light fixture. The air on his skin was cool. Damp, even. He shivered slightly, then opened his eyes. He was staring down at his feet, and he noticed then how stiff his neck felt. He wiggled his fingers, and his wrists ached. His gaze moved to his arms and noticed then that they were strapped down, along with his ankles. He lifted his head, fighting against the vertigo for a moment, and looked around the room.
It was dimly lit, very large, and very empty. He sat in one corner of the room, directly across from the door, but he was hardly centered in the room. He had half expected a single light bulb to be dangling above him in the center of the room. Wasn’t that how villains liked to torture their captives in the movies? Why should he be an exception to that cliche?
He knew, without a doubt in his mind, that he was likely somewhere in the Yiga hideout, where ever that was. Unless, of course, they prefered to keep their captives in other locations, to keep the secret hidden, of course. Yes, that seemed very likely. But one thing was for sure; the Yiga Clan had him, Mipha, and Aryll in their clutches, and that was very, very bad news.
He cursed silently. Damn it, Kit and Revali were right all along. He shouldn’t have doubted them for a second. He shouldn’t have listened to his father. Why didn’t he just take care of them ten years ago? There were so many thoughts rushing through his head, but the one that kept coming back was whether or not Dorian had anything to do with the situation he was in. He swore on Hylia he would kill the traitor himself as soon as he got the chance. And the entire Yiga Clan, too, while he was at it.
The door opened then, bringing him out of his thoughts. His chin jolted up and his gaze fell on a man that could have only been Kohga himself, leader of the Yiga Clan. Kohga stood in the doorway, grinning stupidly as he met Link’s gaze.
“My, my,” he said as he stepped into the room and toward Link. “It took longer than I planned, but I finally have Hyrule's Chosen Hero in my hideout. I'll try not to gush, but,” He leaned in close to Link's face, “I'm such a fan.” He grinned, then stepped away and crossed the room towards the table where various tools were laid out.
“I should tell you,” he said as his fingers ran along the table and the tools. “A lot of people died to protect you. You'd have no way to know that, of course, so I felt it only right to tell you.” He turned to regard Link over his shoulder, but Link kept his eyes on the ground, though listening intently.
“Your father included,” he continued. He selected a large, sharp looking knife and turned it in the light, inspecting it. “All the torturing in the world wouldn't get him to talk. But it didn't matter; I would find you one way or another, and low and behold, I did.” He turned with the knife in hand, smiling wickedly. “King Roham has a way with keeping those details a secret, though, doesn't he? Killed in action, I'm sure he said. How conveniently vague.” He laughed lightly. “And you were none the wiser. Seems interesting that all these secrets would be kept from you, doesn't it?” He rubbed his chin, then shook his head. “Makes me wonder; are they trying to protect you? Or perhaps there's... something else they're trying to protect?”
Link continued to stare at his feet, avoiding his gaze. Surely he was just trying to get into his head, but it was working. His mind was racing, trying to decipher all the Yiga Clan leader was telling him. Had Impa and Roham really been keeping things from him? And for what purpose? It didn't matter in that moment, though. Mipha and Aryll were missing, and he was stuck in that damned chair, waiting for Kohga to choose his weapon.
“I had such joy seeing your father come to his end, after all these years,” he continued. “And I will have even greater pleasure ending your life. I'll make it just as slow and painful as it was for your father. In fact.” He turned around, putting the knife down and instead picking up a long syringe. “Let's get right to it. I'm anxious to see how this will work with you, the boy with the spirit of the hero.”
He approached Link, bending down to get into his face once more. He held the syringe before him, grinning. “A little something I've put together. Are you curious about it?” He didn't wait for Link to answer. “Of course you are. And I will tell you. I'm quite proud of this. And you'll be interested to know what is happening to you.” He straightened and moved to Link's side, prepping his equipment. “It has worked quite well on our other... subjects. In fact, we'll be using this on Ganondorf himself as well. A little dark magic, so to speak.” With the needle filled, he flicked the tip. “We've had great success using this in,” he raised his brows excitedly, “raising the dead, so to speak. We're preparing an entire army of undeads, pumped full of this little dark magic. With you, we suspect it will darken that little Triforce inside of you. This will allow us to not only raise Ganondorf from his seal, but once we get our hands on Zelda as well, the Triforce will become complete, and without the purity of its power, allow Ganondorf to use its full power without it shattering.”
He pressed the needle into Link's arm. Link stiffened, but unable to move, he could do nothing to prevent anything from happening to him. He waited with clenched teeth until the needle was finally removed, and almost immediately, the room began to spin.
“It will take a few doses of this before it really starts to take effect,” he continued, moving back towards the table. “You may even be feeling it right now as it flows through your body.” He looked over as Link slouched in the chair and smiled. “You will have a variety of reactions to it,” he said. “Sickness, nightmares, hallucinations. In high doses, it will kill you. But not to worry; I've perfected it for our purposes with you. You'll only want to die. But once you completely succumb to the power, Hyrule's Hero will be dead, and you will begin your new life, fighting for Ganondorf.”
“You think this plan of yours will work?” Link muttered. He gasped as a sickening pain washed through him.
Kohga laughed. “Don't be a fool,” he said. “The tough guy front will get you nowhere, now. You and your friends and all of Hyrule are finished.” He made his way towards the door. “I'll be back in a couple of hours for another dose.” He smiled. “We'll have such a good time together.” And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Link alone to his thoughts in the dark room.
Link’s eyes darted around as they adjusted to the darkness, though he still couldn’t see worth a damn. He desperately replayed Kohga’s cliched monologue in his head. He had watched enough movies to know that Kohga - the villain of his own story - was likely fucking with him, but he couldn’t help but to believe every word of it. And the more he thought about it, the more it all made sense. Even his father had said so himself; the Yiga Clan had been, as he put it, ‘a thorn in their side for years.’ He didn’t doubt for a second that his father under exaggerated that a great deal. And then there was the speculation his friends had about Dorian and the beef between the Sheikah and his father. There were secrets between the two men who once called themselves close friends. Could it be that Dorian had something to do with the Yiga Clan? But Zelda was so quick to shut down that suspicion as well, after his father had apparently died in a tragic attack.
Perhaps, then, it was so much more. It became clear to Link, now, how deep the war was. So deep, in fact, that even though Ganondorf had been defeated, the threat still remained. For years, Hyrule battled silently, behind his - the hero’s - back, without his knowledge, sending in their own soldiers to their deaths.
Soldiers like his father. A man who was thrust so deep into the secrecy of war, that he died at the very hands of the people they were trying to defeat. He died to protect the only secret he held so dearly to him; the whereabouts of the man whom the Yiga could use against Hyrule. Link’s whereabouts.
No. He didn’t merely die. He was murdered. Murdered by people who had once sworn to protect the royal family and all of Hyrule. Murdered by traitors.
Link let the rage was through him as he shouted into the empty room. He struggled against the restraints, but unless he had Daruk’s strength, there was no way he would be able to break out. But then again, it was likely that they were well prepared for anything Hyrule’s Champions could throw at them. Perhaps even Daruk would have been rendered useless in the restraints. They didn’t stand a damn chance against the Yiga Clan.
Still, Link continued to struggle desperately. He had to get out of there. He had to save Aryll and Mipha. He had to kill Kohga and destroy the Yiga Clan. He wanted nothing more than the taste of revenge for everything they had done. But as he struggled, he found himself growing unexplainably more and more exhausted by the second. His head felt clouded and darkness crept in at the corners of his vision, quickly disorienting him. Nausea moved through him as his head started to spin. His body shivered, yet sweat dripped off of him. And then, he lost consciousness all together.
*****
He blinked in the bright light, letting his eyes adjust. He stood in the doorway into the kitchen. The room seemed inexplicably bright for a moment, but then it settled to something more bearable. Link could hear the faint sound of a woman humming a familiar tune. His eyes moved to the blonde woman that stood at the counter, her back turned to him, and his breath caught in his throat. Sensing his presence, the woman turned, her piercing blue gaze meeting his, and she smiled.
Her voice was kind and comforting when she spoke “Hey,” she said. “Are you just gonna stand there?” She let out a light giggle, her head cocking to the side slightly.
Link ran to her. His mother wrapped her arms around him, then moved her fingers to brush through his hair as he buried his face against her.
“You can’t stay here,” she said softly.
He knew this all too well, but he did not move away from her. She hugged him tighter as he cried against her.
“I’m sorry, Link,” she said. Her voice sounded distant. “I never wanted this for you.”
He wanted to tell her he understood. That he didn’t blame her. Or his father. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t find his voice. He pulled away and watched as his mother seemed to fade away right before his eyes.
“I love you,” she said. “Don’t give up.”
Link reached desperately for her, but as he did so, he felt a strange snap in his body, in his mind, as if shutting off his connection with her completely, plunging him in darkness.
Link gasped for breath. The world was still dark, and it took him a moment before he realized he was still secured in the Yiga Clan hideout. He struggled against the restraints, but still, he could not break free of them. He ceased struggling for a moment, his breathing heavy as he fought to catch his breath. His lashes were wet and he quickly blinked away his leftover tears.
At that moment, the door opened and light pooled through. Kohga stood in the doorway with a look of absolute pleasure on his face. He stepped into the room, watching Link with an eager grin, and the dim lights turned on with a faint buzzing sound. He stopped before Link and looked down at him.
“It won’t be long before you can no longer discern your dreams from reality,” he said. “And both will only get worse with time. You will soon beg for death, and I will happily oblige.” He moved to the table to retrieve another syringe. “I guess that makes me rather kind, doesn’t it?” he said. “The Chosen Hero will die and begin his new life. It’s really quiet poetic.”
The syringe plunged into his skin, but this time, Link hardly noticed it. He didn’t move as he accepted his fate. He could practically feel the dark energy pulsing through him, and once more, it caused his head to spin sickeningly. His fingers curled into his palms as the pain rushed through him, cutting deep into his skin and causing his hands to bleed.
“This will be our routine for the next few days,” Kohga said as he stepped away. “Settle in. It’s gonna be a wild ride.” He dropped the empty syringe carelessly onto the table, and without another word, left Link alone.
Once more, Link fell into unconsciousness, more quickly than he had the first time.
*****
When he came to, he seemed to still be within the walls of the Yiga Clan hideout. However, he was no longer restrained. He sat up on the cold, hard floor and looked around him. Several dark cloaked figures circled around him. He got to his feet cautiously, prepared to defend himself, but they did not move. From among them, only one man stepped forward and out of the shadows.
Rusl approached his son, holding his gaze on him as he grabbed his left wrist and pulled Link towards him. He inspected his hand for a moment, and the Triforce began to pulse. However, it was not the same soft, golden light that it once emit. It was dark and wicked, and Link could feel the power of it pull through his body, as if threatening to leave him.
Rusl smiled. He let go when Link pulled his wrist out of his father’s grip. Link sneered up at him, his heart racing.
“Why are you doing this?”
“The Triforce belongs to Demise,” his father said, his voice strong. “It has since the dawn of time. We’re here to return it to its rightful owner.”
Link stared blankly at him for a moment, then narrowed his gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“Hylia has covered this truth throughout the ages. That’s why Sheikah have abandoned the royal family. That’s why the Yiga Clan exists; to bring back the truths of this world.”
Link searched his father’s gaze desperately. “You can’t be serious…”
“The Goddesses thought they sensed evil intent in Demise, so they took the Triforce from him and entrusted it with Hylia instead. They wrongly accused him and sealed him away. That’s why Hyrule has fallen to his supposed curse. That’s why Hyrule belongs to Demise.”
“You… you’re working with them. You have been all along.”
“The Yiga Clan are not the enemy, Link. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
“Then why are they intent on killing me?”
“You possess a piece of it. That piece does not belong to you. You must give it up so Demise can return to power.”
“And then?”
“And then you will die.”
“You knew this all along,” Link said softly as he came to the realization. His entire life was a lie. His family was a lie. He was a lie. “You’re lying!”
Rusl turned his back on his son. He stepped back into the darkness, uttering his only command to the cloaked figures. “Take it and kill him.”
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Black Angels
Statues can be creepy as it is, with their never changing visages, eyes that seem to stare off right through us, and often towering above us. Even without any sort of haunted lore or tales of paranormal activity they can manage to creep us out, but add these elements and they truly catapult into the land of the eerie. Within the state of Iowa lie two such statues that are molded into the likenesses of angels, albeit taking on the color of black rather than white, and orbited by persistent legends and stories of the supernatural, ghosts, and curses.
Perhaps the most well know “black angel” stands menacingly overlooking the Oakland Cemetery of Iowa, in the United States, and it has gone on to become absolutely permeated with spooky lore and legend in the region. It is an imposing presence, towering 8 and a half feet over the ground, and although it is black now it wasn’t always so, which is actually a part of its unusual lore. The statue itself was bronze when it was first brought to the cemetery in 1912, as a burial monument for the wealthy Feldevert family. It was designed by an artist in Chicago by the name of Mario Korbel, who was commissioned by Teresa Dolezal Feldevert in order to eternally watch over her family’s gravesite, where her husband was buried and where her own son, Eddie, was also interred after having died of meningitis in 1891.
The statue was installed in 1912, and was already notable for its rather disturbing stance, its sad face cowled and turned down, mostly hidden from view, and wings not gloriously uplifted as those of most cemetery angels were, giving it a rather somber and creepy ambiance. Shortly after this arrival, Eddies body was moved to sit right alongside the statue, while at the same time the ashes of Teresa’s husband were placed right beneath it. Teresa’s own ashes were interred there as well when she died of cancer in 1924, and it was from around this point that the rather ominous looking statue began to accrue is sinister reputation. It was noticed that right after Teresa’s ashes were placed here the statue seemed to very rapidly turn from a shiny bronze to an unsettling greenish black color, which was probably the result of oxidation of the metal but which was rapid and alarming enough that it helped launch the statue into scary local lore, with the change said to be caused by paranormal forces from beyond our understanding, and legends began to spring up to explain it.
One of the most popular of these legends is that Teresa was far from an angel herself, that behind closed doors she was a wicked and sinful woman, even a practitioner of black magic, with some even whispering that she had in fact murdered her son, and that this malevolent energy surrounding her had transferred to the statue upon her death to taint it and cause it to turn is oppressive black, a permanent testament to her evil past. In one version of the tale the statue turned black suddenly one evening after a thunderstorm and lightning strike, and this has all also led to the idea that the intimidating statue is actually cursed, with a few versions of how this malicious paranormal power manifests. In one story any girl who is kissed at the angel’s feet during a full moon will die within 6 months, in another touching the angel on Halloween night will lead to death in 7 years, actually kissing it will cause instantaneous death from heart failure, and a pregnant woman who walks under its wings is said to lose her child.
The Black Angel of Oakland Cemetery has gone on to become a permanent fixture of local legend, gathering about itself a persistent reputation as a haunted place, with apparitions and odd phenomena roving about it, and it is indeed a popular destination for paranormal investigators, who have managed to capture odd photographs and EVP phenomena in the vicinity. One famous investigation of the Black Angel was carried out by the SyFy channel TV show Haunted Highway, during which time no one dared touch it, although they did allegedly manage to produce evidence in the form of sudden inexplicable temperature fluctuations within the statue. The menacing statue has unfortunately also become a magnet for macabre curiosity seekers and thrill seekers, many of which have vandalized the statue over the years, although no word on whether the curse got them for that. Is this all urban legend or is there any reality to it at all? The cemetery is open to the public all year round, so go check it out yourself and make up your own mind, just go right on past the wrought iron gate, through the twisted trees, and face the sorrowful visage of the Black Angel, staring right back and silently daring you to touch it.
At another cemetery, also in Iowa, is yet another black angel surrounded by dark history and myth. Here we come to a place called Fairview Cemetery, at Council Bluffs, in Iowa City. The cemetery itself is one of the oldest in the state, born as an Indian burial ground before being used by Mormon settlers of the region. In 1919 the wife of a Civil War Veteran and railway engineer named General Grenville M. Doge was buried here, a woman by the name of Ruth Anne Browne, and the angel was erected to serve as a guardian of her grave. The statue was crafted by a Daniel Chester French, who also happens to have been the same man who would go on to create the Lincoln Memorial Statue in Washington DC, and it was apparently formed in the likeness of an angel who had appeared in the dead woman’s dreams and premonitions before her death. According to Ruth’s daughter, these were extremely vivid visions, with her saying:
We realized this was no dream, no ordinary occurrence, but an apparition such as appeared to those saints of olden times, who were spiritual seers, holy enough to penetrate the fleshly veil and view spiritual things hidden from the worldly minded.
Ruth had described to her family of seeing an angel in white atop a boat covered with flowers that sprang from a thick mist at a rocky shore, and who carried some sort of shallow urn under her arm filled with water that “glittered and sparkled like millions of diamonds.” This vision would come to her a total of three times, each time with the angel offering the water to drink and being refused until the last time, with Ruth’s death occurring just days after she finally drank of it in her final dream, although she had claimed that the water had given in fact her immortality. As such, the statue in question depicts a beautiful maiden with an urn of water that perpetually pours water into a fountain below it.
While the statue looks serene and calm, it has still managed to draw to it all manner of tales of strange phenomena surrounding it. One is that locals claimed that it will actually move and even fly about at night before returning to its perch in the morning, and it is said to often visit new graves to stand over them in solemn silence, whether in belevolence or not know one knows. More sinister tales say that the statue are rather malevolent, such as causing children to disappear, shooting fire from her mouth, and her gaze said to bring death and misfortune if you are to look into her eyes for too long or touch her beckoning outstretched hand. Of course it too has taken on a rather dark color that makes it appear more threatening and has surely helped fuel the stories, with folklore professor Todd Richardson, from the University of Nebraska, saying of this:
In the case of the Black Angel, it sounds creepy and it looks creepy. It would make more sense to have a nice marble angel representing the flight to heaven, whereas the black angel represents something more ominous.
Over the years the statue has undergone several renovations to fix its flowing fountain and to repair damage caused by vandals, and in 1980 it was added to the National Register of Historic Places. Yet it still manages to generate tales of the paranormal and of nefarious curses. Is there some mysterious force surrounding this statue, and if so is it malicious in nature and why? Whatever the case may be, it has become a popular landmark in the area, and keeps its secrets close. And that seems to be the story with both of these enigmatic statues, standing there overseeing their domains of gravestones and the bodies of the dead, that it is hard to know where myth ends and any reality begins. With their unique appearances and the spooky quality of their locales, they are natural magnets for tales of the paranormal, food for ghost stories and campfire yarns, and as we try to figure them out they stand there inscrutable as always, silently surveying their land and perhaps bearing mystical forces we cannot comprehend.
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A century ago, a strain of pandemic flu killed up to 100 million people—5 percent of the world’s population. In 2013, a new mystery illness swept the western coast of North America, causing starfish to disintegrate. In 2015, a big-nosed Asian antelope known as the saiga lost two-thirds of its population—some 200,000 individuals—to what now looks to be a bacterial infection. But none of these devastating infections comes close to the destructive power of Bd—a singularly apocalyptic fungus that’s unrivaled in its ability not only to kill animals, but to delete entire species from existence.
Bd—Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis in full—kills frogs and other amphibians by eating away at their skin and triggering fatal heart attacks. It’s often said that the fungus has caused the decline or extinction of 200 amphibian species, but that figure is almost two decades out-of-date. New figures, compiled by a team led by Ben Scheele from the Australian National University, are much worse.
Scheele’s team estimates that the fungus has caused the decline of 501 amphibian species—about 6.5 percent of the known total. Of these, 90 have been wiped out entirely. Another 124 have fallen by more than 90 percent, and their odds of recovery are slim. Never in recorded history has a single disease burned down so much of the tree of life. “It rewrote our understanding of what disease could do to wildlife,” Scheele says.
“It’s a terrifying summary,” says Jodi Rowley from the Australian Museum. “We knew it was bad, but this really confirms how bad. And these are just the declines we know about.”
The scale of these losses can be hard to appreciate, especially if you think that a frog is a frog is a frog. But amphibians are ancient survivors that have been diversifying for 370 million years, and in just five decades, one disease has nearly decimated their ranks. Imagine if a new disease started wiping out 6.5 percent of all mammal species—that would be roughly everything with hooves and everything with flippers. The world would freak out.
And amphibian experts “have been freaking out a long time,” says Karen Lips from the University of Maryland, who was involved in the new study. “Despite all the attention, I don’t think we fully appreciate what was lost.”
In the 1970s and ’80s, amphibian experts began sharing ominous anecdotes about once-plentiful populations that had mysteriously disappeared. Streams once full of eggs were clear. Nights once resonant with ribbits were silent. Nothing about the habitats had changed, save for their sudden, inexplicable froglessness. No one knew what the problem was, let alone the culprit. “It was more than a search for a needle in a haystack—we were still debating the existence of the haystack,” Lips wrote recently. Steele’s analysis shows that by the point the fungus was finally identified, in 1998, it had already done the brunt of its lethal work. At least 60 species were already extinct, and hundreds more were going south.
Bd is perhaps the perfect frog killer. It kills with gusto and without fuss. While some diseases affect only specific hosts, Bd covets nutrients found across amphibian skins, and so targets the entire group indiscriminately. It spreads easily through the water, and it persists outside its hosts.
The fungus hasn’t acted alone; humans have been its unwitting accomplice. A genetic study led by Matthew Fisher from Imperial College London suggested that Bd had originated somewhere in Asia. From there, one especially virulent and transmissible strain spread around the world in the early 20th century—a time when international trade was booming. Infected animals could have stowed away aboard ships, or been deliberately transported as food, pets, or pregnancy tests. Either way, the killer strain eventually spread to five other continents.
In the new study, Scheele’s team compares the modern world to Pangaea—the single, epic supercontinent that existed at the dawn of the dinosaurs. It has long split up, but humans have effectively re-created it. For wildlife diseases, all the world is once again a single connected mass, easily traversed. For that reason, new fungal diseases seem to be emerging at an ever-increasing pace, affecting bats, snakes, salamanders, and more. “These fungi would normally have fried on a sailing craft across the Atlantic, but now they’re viable,” Scheele says. “We’re just able to move things around at higher speed and volume than we used to.”
Humans have also repeatedly sown islands with introduced hunters such as cats, rats, and mongooses, to the detriment of local fauna. In many ways, it’s more fitting to think about Bd as one of these introduced predators—and perhaps the most destructive that people have ever unleashed. “Cats have been a plague on biodiversity over generations, and they eat everything,” Scheele says. “And yet Bd, whose impact we have only been able to measure for decades, already far outstrips the cats and rats in terms of the species affected.”
The comparison is especially apt because once in a new place, Bd is hard to dislodge. A typical disease might cause an epidemic and burn out, only to be later reintroduced from a reservoir. But once Bd arrives, it doesn’t fade out, and it cannot be removed. Like rats on islands, it becomes a nigh-permanent fixture of the areas it invades.
Limiting its movements remains the best strategy, and that means curbing the wildlife trade. “Moving wildlife around the globe can and does have devastating consequences,”Rowley says. “There’s more awareness of the impact of invasive species like cane toads and rabbits, but this paper highlights that it may be the inadvertent hitchhikers—the parasites and pathogens we don’t see—that cause the most biodiversity loss.”
Encouragingly, the pace of decline has eased. Better still, 60 species have begun to show glimmers of recovery. But no one knows whether this means that frogs have managed to eke out an evolutionary truce with Bd, or whether further outbreaks are to come. That’s possible if the fungus makes it to Papua New Guinea—a thus far Bd-free stronghold that is heaving with amphibians. The virulent, globe-hopping strain has also hybridized with indigenous varieties, raising concerns that hybrids could behave unpredictably.
“There’s no obvious way to deal with this,” Lips says. Some researchers have set up captive-breeding programs to buy time for species in contaminated habitats. Others are looking at ways of manipulating the fungus, or breeding more tolerant frogs, or pairing the frogs with defensive bacteria, or relocating frogs to sites that are inhospitable to the fungus. None of these solutions is a silver bullet, and none is close to readiness. “It says a lot about the scary nature of the disease that even after intense, long-term collaborations we haven’t come up with a viable solution,” Lips adds.
>globalization killed the frogs before they could even become gay
frogs are probably my favourite animals and its actually really sad to think my grandchildren won’t see one in the wild
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Thoughts on the match?
Well that was a bit of a punch in the gut. Girona deserves this result though because as good as we were in the first hour of the game, Girona dominated after that. They missed so many wide open chances on net, it would have felt unfair if we had equalized late into this game.
Portu was fantastic this game, the first half running riot on Odriozola’s side of the field and largely nullifying the Odri-Ceballos-Vazquez combination. Instead, almost all of our attack in the first half came through Kroos-Marco-Marcelo, with the latter having an especially good first half. And then, at the half, Portu switched sides, targeting Marcelo, as so many other La Liga teams have done this year. Marcelo stayed back, working defensively, but was then ineffective on offense, as he couldn’t get as far up the feild. Thus, our attacking legs were cut out from under us and Girona grew into the game.
A marked difference between the first and second halves was, as reoccurring as it is, the press. Real Madrid had an excellent press the first half and pushed Girona back, never letting them play. However, in the second, there was a noticeable drop in intensity, whether due to subs or instruction, or simply tired legs. Girona’s own press, intense in the first 15 minutes or so, returned again in the second half, as they could sense the tide changing.
Portu had gone pace for pace with Odriozola in the first half and despite maybe the odd switch ball (though most of our switches were oddly poor today), we had trouble finding him. However, when Portu switched to Marcelo’s side, he became so much more effective, of course scoring the winner. It’s unfortunate because as good as an offensive game as Marcelo had, he should have done better marking Portu on the goal. Until we can find away to compensate for Marcelo, as we have done in the past, he’s a big liability when he’s in the starting line up, one Girona quickly took advantage of.
But it wasn’t all Marcelo. Our transition defense, good in the first half, was almost nonexistent in the second. Girona sliced through us with vertical passes that should not have been that easy for them to find. This has been an ongoing problem since last year and one that can be solved, but I’m not sure Solari is the one to solve it. We have seen good transition defense under him before, however never consistently and more due to the intuition of our players and not any systematic formation.
And that brings me finally, to Solari. I haven’t had as much criticism for him recently, largely because we’ve been winning, so how can you argue with results? But his subs today were strange. First, Ramos and Benzema were both players on the top of the list of players needing rest, but both started and neither... well, I’ll say we’re subbed out. Instead, Marco, who was one of our best players came out. Lucas Vazquez, who is so important for defensive security came out (and perhaps it is worth noting when he did, Girona were more easily able to move up and down that right flank). And Ceballos, who had a fairly good, if unremarkable game, came out for Mariano. And I’m assuming we switched into a 442 and not a 424 like my commentators were trying to figure out. The subs had very little impact coming on, with the only memorable moments a couple of shots from Vini. And it was all just... inexplicably strange.
And the poor performance was sealed off with a red card for Ramos, who already would have been missing the next game, and the vague possibility that the punishment could be even harsher. Now suspended in two competitions, this isn’t the time for us to have lost our captain.
We saw rotations in the line up today, but what lacked was a consistent level of energy and desire across the 90 mins. I’m not sure why this happens, when we fall apart right around half time. We knew how important of a league game this was, and we’ll have a week to sit on it before Levante. Levante beat us earlier this season and although the statistics favored us in that game, the win will only give them more confidence that they can do the double over us.
We have tough fixtures still coming up, and it would be nice to go into them with good spirits.
#real madrid#thibaut courtois#sergio ramos#raphael varane#marcelo vieira#marcelo#alvaro odriozola#casemiro#toni kroos#dani ceballos#marco asensio#karime benzema#lucas vazquez#vinicius jr#gareth bale#mariano diaz#match analysis#1/17/19#whelp that sucked#how come we always lose early games#i’d just like to wake up and not be dissapointed
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Big Life Questions
In 1991, I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes; an incurable autoimmune disease that would have killed me were it not for the discovery of a breakthrough treatment some 70 years earlier. Had my great grandmother—who lived to be an octogenarian with four grandchildren and eight great grandchildren—been diagnosed with the same condition, natural selection would have swiftly eliminated her and the potential for offspring as unceremoniously as it had thousands of others. By pure chance, my mother, uncle, cousins, brothers, and I would never have been born. Twelve unique progenies, gone; an entire branch of the family tree stunted and withered at the hands of a few faulty genes.
As luck or God or the Universe would have it, I was born at exactly the right moment in history to not only survive type 1 diabetes but thrive. And here I am today at age 29: a walking, talking, breathing, body with blood circulating and nerves firing, alive with not only conscious thoughts, but also feelings, opinions, beliefs, quirks, aptitudes, and proclivities. From this foundation, I’ve created a full and complicated life that includes accomplishments, hobbies, aspirations, and emotional connections to other walking, talking, breathing bodies. That I am even sitting here now in a 600-square-foot apartment in Philadelphia with a Chihuahua named Peanut napping sweetly in my lap, able to freely express myself through the typed English word using an online platform capable of sharing those words with millions of people around the globe, all while my loving husband cooks his take on vegan enchiladas in our tiny kitchen is nothing short of a holy-shit miracle.
I wish I could say that the mind-blowing awareness of my mere existence—never mind the trillions of complex, improbable events that coalesced to have me adopt a Chihuahua—has compelled me to live each of my 10,500+ days on this earth to their absolute fullest. I wish I could say the knowledge of my finite and delicate reality has inspired me to follow my passions, live authentically, and weather life’s storms with grace and fortitude all while dedicating my time and energy toward the betterment of society. Surely a life as precarious as my own would catalyze an ongoing quest to align mind, body, and spirit; to be a role model for overcoming adversity against all odds.
Alas, I am not quite so enlightened.
Last Saturday, for example, I spent the entire day in worn-out sweatpants eating buttered toast and playing Candy Crush on my iPad. Between waiting for more bread to toast, butter to melt, and lives to reload, I scrolled through the bottomless pit that is the /AmITheAsshole sub on Reddit, grappling with the complexity of human social norms while also getting my daily bump of “my life really isn’t so bad” by contrasting my comparatively insignificant problems to the drama of Internet strangers. By sunset, I had succeeded only in eating a half loaf of bread and irritating my husband by finishing off the butter and bringing crumbs into the bed. (AITA?)
I’m sure you’re wondering how I’m able to justify such a flagrant misuse of my time. While I don’t exactly know the answer to that question, I can hazard a guess it’s because I’ve collected enough insignia of a successful life—academic degrees, a wedding ring, my handsome husband, a Pinterest-inspired apartment, stamps in my passport—that the pressure to fill my days with meaningful, enlightened activities has lessened. So long as I continue showing up to work, paying taxes, saying “I love you,” and periodically posting #humblebrags on Twitter about some new promotion or my latest vacation, what does it matter if I occasionally splurge on procrastination and carbohydrates?
…right?
Until last year, I had only peripherally considered that there might be more to life than just achieving and owning things. From high school honors to senior job titles to a committed relationship, these milestones were my markers of success, happiness, and security. I craved them, worked for them, plotted how I would make them happen, and invested all my energy into proving to the world and myself that I was smart, hard-working, lovable, deserving; often to the detriment of my own physical, mental, financial, and spiritual health.
Moreover, I was actively encouraged to seek more of these achievements: to play an instrument in both orchestra and band, attend academic summer camps, double major in college, study abroad, work late, work weekends, work, work, work. I believed these tangible symbols would unlock the secrets to all the Big Intangibles: happiness, passion, fulfillment, security, joy, peace, gratitude, love. And when those fleeting moments of accomplishment came and went, and the Big Intangibles didn’t instantly manifest, I turned to my old, worn copy of the “Perfect Life Checklist” (which I wrote myself at the age of 10) and chose my next goal to appease the restlessness and disappointment in my heart.
And then, after years of sacrificing sleep and sanity to acquire these tangibles, it all came to a climax in May 2018: I had just graduated from a prestigious university with my master’s degree, was months away from marrying my soulmate, and had just been offered a dream job in a new city. Life was perfect or as perfect as I could have contrived. I awoke in my fiancé’s bed the morning after graduation expecting to feel elated, happy, fulfilled; or at the very least, well-rested and content. It was the first Tuesday in perhaps my entire life that I technically had nothing to do and I felt completely, inexplicably…. empty.
Where was the happiness I was promised; the light at the end of the tunnel I built, brick by brick? I felt a sudden urge to laugh followed by the very real experience of tears.
And then, in response to those tears, a harrowing, gut-wrenching, pass-me-the-wine-no-the-whole-bottle question materialized before me as if posed by some older, wiser, separate self: Who would you be without all these labels, titles, and accomplishments?
Who am I?
The answer that came was enough to make me want to dive under the covers and let the carbon dioxide build up around me.
Before I go any further, I want to recognize that despite living with a chronic illness, the problems and concerns I’m describing here are distinctly privileged-people-problems. I understand and appreciate that my ability to grapple with questions about my identity and personal fulfillment are luxuries only possible because of that privilege. I don’t have to worry about basic necessities like where I’m sleeping tonight or from where my next meal will come. I don’t wake up worrying about whether I might get arrested, mugged, shot at, or bombed if I walk out my front door or if I might be persecuted for my skin color, openly practicing my religion, or loving who I love. That I even have health insurance to afford the medication that keeps me alive is a blessing that I am keenly aware not everyone with my disease has.
Yet it’s precisely this knowledge—that other people who were born into different circumstances must work a hundred times harder and maybe not ever get to the point I find myself at now—that makes answering these Big Life Questions even more important. With all my privilege and so few barriers standing in the way of me living a magnificent, inspirational, blessed life of service and passion, why am I not making every day, hour, and minute count?
I pondered that question again a few months ago when I was asked to give a presentation at an all-employee meeting for work. “All-employee” meaning, of course, the entire company; hundreds of people in-person and remote gathered in one moment to critically judge my outfit, throat-clearing tic, and the way I pronounce “gala”—or at least, that’s what it felt like. A naturally nervous public speaker, I practiced obsessively to minimize the risk of forgetting my own name and spent copious time working through every worst-case scenario. In the shower, on the train, before bed, in my dreams; I worried and rehearsed that speech so many times that my ultimate irrational fear of a light fixture falling from the ceiling and concussing me mid-word could have come to fruition and my lips would have continued mouthing statistics while my hands, of their own accord, gesticulated to slide 5 bullet point 2 at the 20-minute mark exactly as rehearsed.
This exercise was, like many of my endeavors, not borne out of passion and commitment to a good cause, but a calculated attempt to take on another “professional development opportunity” in the hopes that it would indirectly increase the likelihood of my future happiness by one, maybe two, percent. Because more responsibility at work = more money = more success, stability, and therefore infinite happiness, right? The irony of all this calculation is that an activity I expected to yield happiness had the unintended consequences of increasing my stress levels by 1000 percent and costing valuable time with my friends and family.
And tell me, what exactly is the point of investing all this energy and being so completely exhausted if there’s no greater good, higher purpose, or feeling happy and inspired before, during, and after? What’s the point of tackling any endeavor if it’s only going to lead to a buttered toast/social media binge to cover the feelings of emptiness and dissatisfaction?
Until now, I’ve asked but not fully grappled with these Big Life Questions. But I want to. I want to wrestle and spar, analyze and critique until awareness turns into action and potentially transformation. In my short life I’ve had the opportunity to answer some medium life questions whose answers led to amazing, unexpected changes. Questions like, “What more do you have to lose?”, “Would you be willing to relocate?” and “Will you marry me?” I’ve answered and then watched life shift miraculously to accommodate my new conceptualization of what’s possible. And now, I feel myself standing at the edge of another new conceptualization with an ever-present awareness of my own potential, mortality, limitations, limitlessness, and connection to the rest of humanity.
This blog is a chronicle of my attempts to answer and act on life’s biggest questions, including, but not limited to:
Who am I?
What is my greater purpose in life?
How can I find joy in the mundane?
How can I make the most of every day?
How can I be kinder to myself in deed and thought?
How can I honor and love my body?
How can I love unconditionally?
How can I forgive myself and others?
How can I overcome my fears?
How can I have more faith?
How can I live in the present moment more often?
How can I align my career and work with my passions and higher purpose?
How can I be of service to others?
If you decide to follow along, I hope my words can provide some perspective on how to begin answering your own BLQ’s, even if what I’m describing is a case study in what not to do. Consider what follows to be a record of hard lessons learned, a magnifying glass for bad habits, an arena for confronting fears and traumas, a whiteboard for exploring crazy ideas, and with a little luck and determination, a launching pad into the magnificent, inspirational, blessed life of service and passion I hope to live.
#biglifequestions#selfhelp#selflove#newblog#type1diabetes#consciousness#sprirituality#happiness#searchformeaning
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Navy; pt. 1
Reader x Jungkook // childhoodfriend!AU, idol!AU // 17k words
Summary: He’s your best friend, practically your other half and the two of you have always promised to be there for each other no matter what. The both of you have dreams of professionally making music together one day and to you it’s almost like reality, a given really, and with each day, the dream starts to feel like it’s within reach. But, one day, with one sentence, Jungkook destroys it all.
Genre: Fluff, Angst
A/N: hey this is me trying to dig myself outta my writer’s block! please know that this is just my imagination running wild and i’m pretty sure big hit didn’t take their phones away from them and there are like other inaccuracies but !!! just humour me hahah. also it seems like the keep reading feature doesn’t work on mobile? im so sorry for clogging up your dash ): and the formatting is all weird on mobile lol idk what’s happening!! it’s best if you just read this on desktop or mobile browser
Part 2
Busanbeats.
At aged 11, both you and Jungkook think that it’s the single most coolest name on Earth for the little home-made studio that you have in your bedroom. 10 years later, you’ll realize the name is as basic as basic comes but it would be a name that holds too many memories, memories both you and him will treasure for the rest of your lives.
Truth be told your so-called studio isn’t even one… it’s just your computer hooked up to some speakers that your neighbour had thrown out some odd years ago. On top of that, the midi keyboard you have is not top of the line either. It’s just some mediocre brand but you had gotten it for a steal at a garage sale and as long as all the keys worked, you didn’t really care.
To think that making horrendously simplistic music on second hand equipment is what will change both yours and Jungkook’s life forever is almost unfathomable and yet, that is all that it is. It would push both of you apart and bring the two of you together again, almost as if finding that midi keyboard buried deep under a pile of broken electronics in a stranger’s yard had been fate at work that day.
It all started on a summer day, in the seaside town of Busan that both you and Jungkook call home. The two of you were grinning with excitement at the thought of becoming teenagers soon. Looking back now, you wonder why you were so excited to become one because if given the chance, you’d choose to be 5 forever because being 5 meant the hardest decision would be picking which crayon to use next. Being 5, the closest thing to heartbreak is the feeling you get when the ice-cream you just bought falls onto the ground. In any case, 11-year-old you did not know about the heartbreak that was to come in only two short years. 11-year-old you only knew that you were more than excited to show your best friend Jungkook what you had set up in your room just that Friday night.
“Won’t you just tell me what it is that you’re so excited about already?” Jungkook groans, truthfully a little irked by your over-enthusiasm today.
“You’ll see,” You grin as you lead him up the stairs to your bedroom, basically running up the steps.
Jungkook is no stranger to your bedroom. In fact, it’s almost like his second home. Every day after school, he stops by your house for lunch and ends up doing homework with you until both his parents return from work. Your parents love him as if he’s another one of their children and his parents love you as if you’re one of their own. Both your families would have dinners together pretty often and in that way, it always felt like Jungkook would be a permanent fixture in your life. Ah, but life, it never really plays out the same way as it does in your head, does it?
Jungkook ambles behind you boredly, chalking up your excitement to perhaps new bed sheets or curtains… You oddly get excited over small things like that, he sighs. So, really, he isn’t expecting much from you, but it’s when you open your bedroom door to show him the new layout of your room, your table now tucked in a different corner with wires all over the place, that he tilts his head in confusion.
“Ta-da!” You gesture with your hands outstretched towards your study table. “We can finally make music like we’ve always wanted!”
It’s a dream the two of you often speak about in the middle of music club, as you play the piano and he sings. You’ve been learning how to play the piano since you were at the ripe age of 5 and you’re no grand master, you’re just… mediocre at best but you know enough to play a popular song on the piano if you were given music sheets. In fact, that’s how the two of you met at the beginning of primary school. You had been playing a rather new pop song on the piano in the music room after school had ended and Jungkook who had been hanging around the back of the room shyly, began belting out the notes after you had coaxed him into doing so. After many weeks of just you and him loitering in the music room after school, a friendship blossomed, one that had started out awkward and quiet but then developed into one where the both of you become comfortable, in fact too comfortable you think because Jungkook and his jokes, which really are just insults, makes you feel like strangling him.
Jungkook approaches your new setup carefully, fingers grazing the worn out speakers before they prod at the keyboard.
“Do you even know how to work any of this?”
“Uhh... not really,” You admit. “But I’m sure we'll figure it out somehow! It can’t be too hard…”
Except it isn’t as simple as you think… of course it isn’t. You had highly underestimated just how hard it is to make music at all, let alone good music. Turns out just pressing a few keys and recording Jungkook’s voice on top of it won’t actually give you a song that sounded remotely like anything that’s playing on the radio... but you were determined and disciplined so a few weeks or so at the library, reading up on books on basic music production gave you just enough to figure out how to finally make a song… at least a mediocre one and with the creation of that song comes the birth of Busanbeats.
It becomes some sort of routine, the both of you coming home from school, working on homework and then moving on to make some music. In the span of 2 years, both you and him make countless tracks together, and they’re not amazing as per se and nobody but the two of you ever hears them but it brings the pair of you inexplicable joy. The studio is like a new world, a secret world for just you and him. As the two of you grow from eleven to twelve and finally to thirteen, both you and he grow as artists. For starters, though Jungkook has always sounded like an angel to you, his singing has only become better and you often wonder just how good he’ll become one day when he finally starts taking those vocal lessons he’s been talking about taking recently. He doesn’t know how to tell you but he’s never really thought much of his voice but it’s because of you, because of how you continually encourage him, how you continually spur him on to create music that he sees a future in the music industry for himself. In fact, making music together hadn’t been something he thought of at all until you brought it up but he’s more than happy now about the fact that the two of you are doing this because it’s through you that he finally learns where his passion lies.
Musically, between you and Jungkook, you’ve done the most growing because in the span of just 2 years, technology has moved at such a fast pace and the internet has become a wealth of information for you and with that, your music production skills have now moved beyond layering vocals on top of the instrumental piano piece. Suddenly, the songs you make now have bass, drums, cow bells, traditional percussion instruments and anything you wanted to sample on them, and Jungkook always voices out that all of this would be nothing if it wasn’t for you and you simply blush, waving away his compliments. He thinks you’re some sort of magician, having learnt so much in just the span of a few months but that’s mostly because he’s a technological Neanderthal. The boy never got onto the growing social media bandwagon, for he doesn’t even have an email, nor an account for chatting. The only way to reach him is on his little phone that he only uses to call less than a handful of people. In fact, you would have to call him every once in a while to clear his inbox when you wanted to send him a text because yes, that’s the type of phone he has! He never saw reason really to get fancy new gadgets or try out this new and growing thing that people call social media. It’s all a waste of time he believes, and in his mind he thought he didn’t need it because all his friends are just at maximum, a 20 minute walk away, really. So, you let him live in his little technologically handicapped world because he was right, he didn’t really need it as per se if he was going to be right here in this small area within Busan.
Now, the tracks both you and he make are actually decent enough for either of you to show your friends and family but… neither of you do because this music thing, it’s mainly just for you and him. At least for now, it’s just a hobby and you rather liked keeping it a secret because it’s almost like your safe haven. One day, you would always tell Jungkook. One day, when we graduate from college and make enough money to put aside some time to pursue this hobby as a career, we’ll let everyone hear our music then. It’s a sentiment you thought he shared because he never seemed to voice an opinion that said otherwise, the boy always nodding in agreement with you.
It’s not like you didn’t wish you could drop everything and just make music for the rest of your life, you definitely did but you’ve been told over and over again that the arts... there’s no future for kids who go down that path. Of course, it didn’t help that your parents aren’t too fond of your newfound passion for making music and they often remind you that it’s nothing but a hobby, that you are destined for far greater things. Destined for college and a job at a big company, destined for happiness... as if music wouldn’t be able to give you that. Essentially, your parents are living out their dreams through you and you don’t blame them because all they want is for you to have the life they couldn’t. You are their only child and so you carry the future of the family on your back. No matter how much you love music, you know it’s a risk you’re not willing to take, at least not just yet, but you will, someday, one day and you would do that with your best friend by your side.
By now, you’ve been friends with Jungkook for 6 years and your friendship has grown leaps and bounds from when the two of you met in the music room at the age of 7. The two of you are so close that everyone regards the both of you as a package and they aren’t wrong, you and him are absolutely inseparable. It’s as if the two of you are conjoined twins… except you know, you aren’t attached in any single way. It’s almost scary to everyone else how either of you know what the other is thinking, like as if there is some telepathic connection the two of you have. Everyone’s just holding their breath, waiting for the day where the both of you proclaim your love for each other because there’s no way the two of you wouldn’t eventually become a couple, you and him already looked like one. It’s a thought you often laugh at because Jungkook doesn’t see you that way and you don’t see him that way either. It’s the thing where you just know someone too well that you can’t possibly see them as a significant other. Granted, Jungkook gets everyone all excited because whenever these rumours surface, he plays along, making everyone think that the two of you are finally dating because he loves seeing you flustered, vehemently denying it as your classmates and friends choose not to believe you, instead throwing out references to instances where you and him act like a couple.
We’re just best friends! You would scream. I don’t know, but best friends don’t take naps on the same bed! That’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do! They would reply, and you would gasp before turning to Jungkook with your fists clenched. Jungkook would often laugh, running away before you can catch him, and he’d hear you scream why did you tell them that!? You’re only making things worse for us! Often he’d let you catch up, let you throw a few playful punches before he apologizes but his heart isn’t really in it when he says sorry because you’re wrong. He’s only making things worse for you, not himself, because unlike you, he rather likes the prospect of you and him being a couple. Of course, he’s tried telling you that a fair few times, albeit rather cryptically, but you’re horrible at picking up hints and he’s horrible at dishing them out. A match made in heaven, that’s what the both of you are.
You always sulk and give Jungkook the silent treatment the day after he instigates those couple rumours, but usually it barely lasts an hour and before he knows it, both you and him would be laying down on your bed, talking, because as always he convinces you to take a break from doing some homework, which then often leads to both of you taking naps. He’s a horrible influence, really, but you can’t deny that you do love a mid-afternoon nap and Jungkook can’t deny that he loves the feeling of falling asleep next to you.
It’s through these little conversations that you and he have before your daily naps that the two of you have come to learn so much about each other. He knows every inch, every nook and cranny of your incredibly complicated self like he knows the back of his hand. Your dreams, hopes and fears, your darkest secrets, your insecurities, he knows them all and you would say it’s the same for you, that you know him just as well as he did you. With a 6-year friendship, especially the kind you both you and him have, surely there would be no secrets between the two of you and on your part, there aren’t any. You could only assume the same could be said for Jungkook. Ah, but only fools assume…
Though you always find yourself screaming, he’s just my friend! You know deep down he isn’t just a friend. Of course, you’re not trying to distinguish between romantic and platonic. It’s just that Jungkook is so important to you that you can’t simply place him in the friend box where so many other people reside. He’s more than that. He’s your confidant, your rock, your inspiration and every time you envision your future, Jungkook is a permanent fixture because you cannot imagine life without him. Whether you're 30 or 80, whether you're married or still single at 70, you would imagine Jungkook would still be there then, would still be your best friend no matter the year, no matter the season because he’s always going to be there as you would be for him. It’s a promise the two of you have made to each other numerous times over and never once have you doubted it. Perhaps that had to do with being a naïve 13-year-old. You just never thought things could turn out differently than how you imagined them to be and for now, you imagine that life is simple, that you just had to do as you’re told and in no time, both you and Jungkook would be taking the music industry by storm.
It's funny, but your friendship with Jungkook is basically a series of never-ending promises and maybe that’s why you think it will go on forever. Of course the core promise of the friendship is that you would be there for each other, always, but it also has tons of overly-ambitious ones like how one day the two of you are going to travel the world together, or that the two of you would one day move to Seoul and live in the most expensive apartment there is, but really the both of you are just dreamers, big ones.
The only promise you think will actually happen for the foreseeable future is the one where you and he will eventually make music together, professionally and it’s a promise you look forward to every day. You often tell him you know the years ahead will be hard, but it would all be worth it when the two of you can finally do what you love for a living.
“You’re sure it’ll happen?” He questions, almost sighing as if he doesn’t believe you.
“It will! It definitely will,” You smile.
“But what will we be? What would our concept as musicians be?”
“I don’t know,” You huff. “But we’ll be famous, that’s for sure,” You laugh, hoping that maybe if you put it out there, that the universe would grant you that wish.
“Alright then,” He grins, before scooting closer to you, his hands hovering over the keyboard as if he’s thinking hard. Hesitantly, he plays a few keys, just 5 single keys. He plays it over a few more times before he records the 5-key tune, smiling as he saved the file.
“That’s going to be our first hit,” He smiles. “You’re gonna have to make good on your promise and make us famous.”
“I will, I seriously will,” You assert, renaming the file as No.1 Hit. “But you’ll have to sing on it.”
“Of course I will,” He snorts. “It won’t be a hit if I’m not on it,” He smirks, cocking his eyebrows and you groan, shaking your head at him before you shove him away.
So, make a hit song together, that would make it promise #762. Of course, both you and Jungkook knew half the promises you make to each other are really just the two of you saying things for the heck of it. You don’t expect these things to actually happen, though you hope they will, you know that most of them are highly improbable situations. Truth be told, as long as you and Jungkook are still friends when the two of you are old and wrinkly, you would still be happy. It’s something you consider a given, something you don’t even question, but that all comes crumbling down with just one single sentence and it hits you hard, like a ton of bricks. It’s on that day that you realize that you’re a fool. A fool for assuming, a fool for never doubting, a fool for believing that everyone else sees life the same way you do.
“Y/N, I… I’m leaving,” Jungkook mumbles, biting on his bottom lip. You look at him questioningly, confused as to what he meant by that. “I’m moving to Seoul,” He huffs, gulping as he looks at you.
“W-what?”
“I leave tomorrow.”
“Jungkook, stop. This isn’t funny,” You grumble, shoving him.
“I’m not joking,” He murmurs, pausing for a while. “It’d be really nice i-if you could come to the train station to send me off.”
“W-What… I don’t understand…”
“I uhh, I auditioned for a show, a talent show and I didn’t get in but a few agencies they approached me—”
“You what?”
“Don’t… don’t get mad, please, Y/N…”
“When did this happen? Why did you… not tell me?”
“It was a few weeks ago… I didn’t tell you because I know you wouldn’t have wanted me to go.”
“I mean it’s just… I thought we had a plan. I thought we were going to wait until after we graduate from college and get a job, and we would—” Your voice wobbles and you can feel tears beginning to build up.
“Y/N, tell me honestly… Do you really think we will do half the things we say we are going to?”
“No… but I’m pretty sure of this one! Jungkook this… this has always been our dream. This is the only thing I-I think of doing once I make enough money for my parents.”
“Y/N, both you and I know you’re only lying to yourself. You say it’ll be just until you’ve made enough but when will that be? When you’re what? 40?” He sighs. “This is my chance to make it right now. This is a solid chance. This isn’t just us joking about what might be. This is something real. This isn’t just dreams and promises that will never be fulfilled.”
“I get it,” You scoff. “So, this is all a joke to you isn’t it? Everything we’ve ever made here—” You gesture around your bedroom. “— is a goddamn joke to you isn’t it?”
“Come on, you know that’s not what I mean. You’re just putting words into my mouth,” He grumbles. “You’re being so unreasonable right now.”
“Unreasonable,” You snort. “I’m being unreasonable? You’re the one that just dropped a bomb like that as if it’s nothing and you think I’m being unreasonable?”
“You’re making all of this so much more of a bigger deal than it really is,” He grumbles, rising from his spot on your bed, pacing around your room.
“How isn’t this a big fucking deal, Jungkook? We’re… we’re best friends! How can you just go ahead and do something like this without telling me?”
“Because I know you would react exactly like how you’re reacting now!”
“You don’t fucking know that!”
“I do, Y/N! Tell me that if I told you I was going to audition for a show that you wouldn’t stop me.”
You stay silent because it’s true. He knows it and you know it too. It’s just you couldn’t see why he would want to when the two of you already have a plan, one that’s been in place for years now.
“Exactly,” He huffs, noting your silence. “I know you too well.”
“Maybe,” You sigh. “Maybe you do, and I guess I’ve been wrong this entire time because I thought I knew you too, but it looks like I don’t know you at all.”
“Oh, come on, don’t say that,” He groans, shutting his eyes as he cards his hand through his hair in frustration.
“We promised each other that we’d be there for each other always, Jungkook. We promised each other that there would never be secrets between us. We promised each other that we’d make music together one day.”
“Well, I’m sorry Y/N but this is… this is just me doing what’s best for me.”
“So, none of the promises we made to each other mattered to you then?”
“Of course, they matter to me, but don’t you understand? Some of the things we say we’ll do, just won’t end up happening.”
“How can you just decide that it will never happen? How can you just… give up on it without even trying to make it work?” You mumble and at this point, there’s no use in holding back your tears because your heart has been ripped out of your chest and stomped on by your one and only best friend. “How can you just… give up on us like that?”
“Us,” He huffs. “You keep saying there’s an us but really in this equation there’s only you. What you’re asking is for me to wait until you’ve graduated and gone to work but what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
“The same, obviously!”
“Y/N, I’m not you! I don’t have life planned out like you do… I don’t even fucking know what subjects I would take. I don’t even know if I can get into college!”
“We’ll figure it out!”
“You’re always so stubborn,” He sighs. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
“I am.”
“You aren’t,” He shakes his head, his fingers silently playing with the hem of his shirt.
“Well I’m trying to be, okay?” You defend. “But I mean this… if this isn’t betrayal, I don’t know what is.”
“It’s always… it’s always about you, isn’t it? Maybe I just want to be selfish for once. Can’t I do that?”
“Why are you asking me that when you’ve already decided on it?”
“This isn’t meant to be like this,” He mumbles. “This isn’t supposed to be as if I’m abandoning you.”
“But you are!”
“No, I’m still here, we’ll still be us. We’re best friends and—”
“I don’t know how you can say that when you’ve destroyed everything that our friendship stands on,” You sob, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Just go,” You sigh.
“Y/N—”
“Leave, you asshole!” You shout, shoving him in the chest towards your door and you can feel Jungkook resist you, standing his ground because he just wants you to look at him. He moves to reach for your hand because he can’t stand this. He hates seeing you like this and he hates that he’s the reason for your tears, but you pull back easily, hand reaching for your bedroom door. “You’ve already decided this friendship is nothing but empty promises anyway so just go, please.”
You don’t even give him a chance to say anything in return, the slam of your door enough to tell him that there’s nothing more he can say. He holds back his tears the entire walk home but the moment he reaches his bedroom, he sinks down onto the floor, and lets his tears soak through his bedroom carpet.
[21:50] Jungkook: My train leaves at 9.30 am tomorrow… Please don’t let our friendship end over something like this. I hope you’ll be there.
You see the text light up your screen minutes before you choose to retire to bed and you scoff at it. You can’t believe he had the audacity to ask you to come. You had made up your mind long before the text that you wouldn’t show up but… it’s Jungkook and even if he had just obliterated your heart, smashed it into smithereens, you find yourself setting up an alarm for 8 am tomorrow.
Jungkook, you sigh.
The bunny teeth and doe-eyed boy. To you, he could do no wrong. It’s like even if you wanted to be mad at him, you couldn’t be. Everything he had said during the screaming match you had with him had made sense, but you couldn’t help but feel betrayed. You couldn’t help but think he was leaving you behind and perhaps that’s what hurt you the most. Maybe, just maybe, you’re afraid. You’re afraid that he’d go to Seoul and he’d forget all about you while you’d be stuck here, still hoping and wishing for his return, like an idiot. Perhaps, he’s right, that the two of you would still be an ‘us’, no matter the distance. Maybe you just had to believe him, maybe in a few more years, the dream would still come true. Maybe in another 10 years or so, you’d find yourself in a studio with him, making music together as you had promised each other.
Saying goodbye is never easy and saying goodbye to your best friend is almost impossible.
“Please, don’t cry,” He mumbles but it’s too late, he could already feel your tears soaking through his shirt. You hate how you look right now. You hate that you’re crying in public, on display for everyone to see but this boy has been there for you for every single second of your life after you had met him that one fateful day and standing here in this train station, with everyone whizzing by, you can’t help but feel like it’s the end of an era, that even if he promises nothing will change, you feel like everything is about to be turned upside down.
“I don’t think they’ll let me use my phone, but I’ll get an e-mail account as soon as I get there and we can talk to each other that way. Nothing’s going to change, I promise,” He smiles, wiping away your tears with his thumb.
You barely say anything because you don’t trust yourself to. He wants you to be happy for him and so you try your best, plastering on a fake smile and holding back the rest of your tears. As the second-hand ticks closer to his boarding time, you can feel yourself grow anxious at the thought of your best friend, your soulmate, leaving you. You can’t help but feel like you’re being ridiculous, that you’re making it seem like you would be nothing without him and you know it’s not true, that you’re a person of your own and you can stand even if he isn’t by your side but it’s the fact that he’s leaving so suddenly that makes you feel like you’re drowning, like you’re trying your best to hold onto something to stay afloat.
Before you know it, the announcement for his train rings around the station and you start to feel like your throat is closing in on you, your chest tightening as you watch him reach for his large suitcase. Jungkook offers you a shy smile and you can see tears start to well up as his parents hug him goodbye for the final time.
He pads over towards you, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he tips your chin upwards, so he can see you one last time.
“Don’t get too famous while I’m away yeah?” He mumbles jokingly and it makes you laugh despite the fact that you’re seconds away from bawling. “We’ll see each other soon, I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Is your only reply, it’s the only thing you trust yourself to say because even with that single word your voice is already shaking.
“We’ll always be… us,” He smiles. “You got that? We’ll always be Busanbeats,” He laughs.
“Don’t forget that while you’re there,” You mumble. “Don’t forget me.”
“Never,” He smiles.
The last thing you remember seeing from that day is watching him disappear down the escalator, wearing a navy-blue cap that you had got him for his birthday last year. He turns back one last time to flash you a smile, waving goodbye to you and his family and then he’s off, disappearing into the sea of people. The last thing you remember feeling from that day, is a low dull ache right where your heart is, and you remember wondering if that pain would ever go away.
That following Monday in school is nothing but a shit storm as word gets out that Jungkook had left for Seoul over the weekend. Your classmates ask you question after question and it only wears you out because truth is you only know just as much as they do. You didn’t know anything past the fact that he had left because a few agencies had been interested in him. You didn’t know who he picked, you didn’t know where he was going, you didn’t know if he was going solo, or if he’ll be in a duo or group. You only know that it feels weird without him here, that it feels oddly empty now that you have to walk home alone, do homework alone and take naps alone. You had not realized just how much space he took up in your life and now that he was gone, you just felt so… alone.
In the next few days and weeks, you slowly but surely begin getting back into the groove of things, finding a new routine for yourself with your other friends that you have grown much closer to now. You hadn’t heard from Jungkook but from what his mother tells you, he’s been really busy trying to settle in and so you give him the benefit of the doubt, holding on to the fact that his mother had told you that he said hi and that despite how embarrassing it is to tell his mother this, that he wanted her to tell you that he misses you so much. You sigh at that, wishing that you could just pick up your phone and call him but apparently his personal cellphone has been kept by the company in order to make sure he would concentrate on his training. Truthfully, you almost feel bad for him and sometimes when you take a break from your homework to lay on your bed, you find your mind drifting off to him and often you find yourself hoping that he’s doing fine, that he’s happy in Seoul, out there chasing his dreams.
It had been perhaps 3 months since his departure and you had pretty much given up hope on personally hearing from Jungkook yourself but you come home from school one day to find your mother telling you Jungkook’s new email account and you had zipped up the stairs straight to your computer to send him an email. Kookster97 is his chosen username and you smile at that, thinking about how he would probably come to regret that username given a few more years. You had spent close to 20 minutes curating the perfect email to send to him and you sat there staring at your computer screen, refreshing it every few minutes or so only to find no reply. You decide to retire to bed but you wake up that morning to find no reply either and you find yourself not thinking too much about it because perhaps like his mother says, he’s busy. You let another day pass, and another, and another and then you let a whole week pass, and still no reply. You send him another email because maybe it just didn’t go through but a few days later, you still get no reply. You want to ask his mother if perhaps she could ask Jungkook why he hasn’t been replying like he said he would but you find it a little embarrassing to ask her that so, you simply ask her if his email is indeed Kookster97 and she nods her head, telling you that it is what he had told her. So, all you do is continue to send him emails, hoping one day he would reply but he never does. In his absence, you find your will to make music diminish. You had not touched your keyboard since the day he left and when you boot up your computer to perhaps work on some music, you find the file titled No.1 Hit in your recent section and when you play it, it’s like you’re taken back to day one where all you could do is mope and frown at the thought of your best friend being so far away now. You bury the file within a file and hide it among 100 other ones, hoping you will never return to it because when you hear that 5-key melody, all you feel is pain.
Weeks turn to months and it’s maybe 9 months since he left that you realize when his mother talks about Jungkook, she doesn’t tell you the usual message of him saying that he misses you, anymore. Tell him I miss him, you remember saying meekly, and she said, of course, I will! But the next time the Jeons came over for dinner and she talked about how Jungkook was getting along in the dance workshop in the US that his company had sent him to, she again, had no personal message from Jungkook to deliver to you, simply a blanket yeah, he says he misses everyone. His mother goes on and on about the new boy group that Jungkook is slated to be a part of and she talks about the other members, the current concept of it being a rap/hip hop type group and though you know you should be happy for him, that all of his effort is coming to fruition, you can’t help but feel annoyed, almost angry whenever you hear about him. It’s with each passing day that you grow bitter and each time the Jeons come around for dinner, you find an excuse to leave the house, citing a group project, or a sleepover you had to attend because you didn’t want to hear about how great Jungkook’s life in Seoul or wherever in the world he is, anymore. Just hearing his name made your blood boil because you just couldn’t understand how he had the time to tell his mother all of this but didn’t have the time to leave his mother just perhaps a word of greeting for you or how he couldn’t just reply to any one of the dozens of emails you had sent. Soon, you end up resenting him so much that you push him out of your mind completely, not even choosing to devote any one of your thoughts towards someone who seemed to want to have nothing to do with you.
Skip to year 2013, it had been far too long since you’ve given the boy you had once called your best friend a thought. You’ve managed to separate everything from him and now whenever you make music, you don’t think of him. Whenever you see his parents, you tune them out when they talk about him. All the pictures of both you and him that you had taped all around your room, are no longer there. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was just a memory to you, someone who had once been a part of your life and you were happy with that decision for you had no qualms about not thinking of him. In fact, it had happened rather naturally instead of it being a decision you had made hastily over anger or bitterness. It was more of a decision of if he could move on without you then you could do the same. You laugh when you think about it because you make it seem like you and him are a couple and the two of you had gone through a break-up. Dramatic, is the only word you can think of on the off chance that you think of him and think of the day when he had told you he was leaving. You were 13 then, young and stupid, and when you think of the whole conversation, you guess it must’ve sounded so stupid if anyone had heard the two of you arguing. You can’t really remember why you were so angry or hurt back then and that’s really because you’ve chosen to block out all things Jungkook.
You had been doing so good, excelling in school, making memories with your friends, sneaking out late at night just to hang out with them and not a single thought of Jungkook had crept up on you in years but then that one day in June, you hear your mother shouting for you from the living room, asking you to come down quick to see what was on TV. You walk down the stairs rather lazily, sighing by the time you got to the living room only to let out a bored what? Your mother points to the TV and your eyes almost pop out of your sockets when you see him, see your ex best friend on national TV, performing his heart out. You’re speechless because that’s him, you’re sure of it but he looks so different in his stage costume and since when could he dance that well? He sounds different, the song he’s singing is much more different from the songs you made with him in your bedroom because first of all it’s professionally produced and secondly you don’t remember him ever rapping on any of the tracks you and he had made but regardless, he still sounded good. There are screams when the song ends and the screen fades to black before they show the members individually, their name and pictures side by side and when you see Jungkook’s picture flash on the screen, you can’t exactly pinpoint the emotion you’re feeling. It’s somewhere between happiness, pride and jealousy all mixed into one. By the time the second song ends, the screams are even louder, and you watch as the closing sequence shows all 7 boys with their chests heaving, sweat dripping down their faces, all of them secretly enjoying the fact that their debut stage is over despite the fact that they’re still in character, snarling at the screen.
It’s almost surreal seeing him on there. It’s crazy to think that in just 3 years, he had already achieved what you said you would with him once you had graduated from college and gone to work. It’s with that thought that you finally understand what he had meant all those years ago, that this was his shot at achieving his dreams and so far, it looks like he’s only getting closer to doing that. You’re happy for him of course you are, how can you not be… but then why is it that you have this bitter taste in your mouth? Why is it that you find yourself frowning when you think of him?
In the weeks, months and years to come, you actively try to keep any news of him and his group away from your social media but it’s hard when all your classmates ever talk about is him and his group. BTS, is what they call themselves, that much you’ve learned and year after year, they continue to release new music and though you try not to listen to it, you can’t help but listen to a short snippet whenever it’s on your timeline before you force yourself to exit out of it, turning away from your social media for the day. You claim you don’t know the slightest thing about them, but your timeline had been a ruckus when they won new artist of the year in 2013 and the subsequent year when they had performed at an award show, your timeline had just about erupted. Aside from all of that, time seems to pass by faster and faster no matter how much you beg it to slow down and though you’re sure for Jungkook it’s like there aren’t enough hours in the day for him with all the practices, recordings and shows, the same could be said for you too because before you knew it, you were sitting for the college entrance exam and then you blink your eye and you’re standing on stage, finally graduating from high school.
When you graduated from high school, you thought you would have a good few months to breathe but a few weeks later, you find yourself in Seoul, ready to embark on a new journey, finally entering college like your parents have always dreamed. Of course arriving on campus, everything felt like a dream because it was your first time in the capital city and it was your first time living in the dorms and everything seemed like a new experience. Seeing so many new faces and so many people your age, all in one place was exhilarating but as soon as classes started, and work started piling up, the excitement of being a college student disappears and is instead replaced with the reality of what it really is and that is being stressed, depressed and occasionally well dressed. The entire first semester is a whirlwind and somehow you survive finals week and make it to summer break but then just as you’re beginning to enjoy it, you’re swept up again as the second semester rolls around and you’re back to the daily grind. Your seniors tell you to stop and enjoy each day because before you know it, you’ll be graduating. Good, you thought. You just wanted to graduate and leave, anyway.
At college, avoiding BTS seems to become a tad bit harder and you’re always slightly irked whenever you hear girls talk about the group or Jungkook in particular because it finally hits you how big they’re staring to become. Granted, they’re not exactly world-wide superstars for the time being but hearing complete strangers fawn over someone who had spent afternoons in your room, picking his nose, will never not be strange to you. You see BTS from time to time on the TV in your dining halls and somehow you find yourself smiling because for one performance you see them in various costumes, Jungkook himself dressed as a police officer and to you, it’s hilarious because you never thought there’d be a day you’d see him in anything but his usual jeans and t-shirt but yet, here he is, in a police officer uniform of all things. He’s happy, or at least you think he is because he has on that smile when he’s performing and just seeing him dance and sing, it just seems right, like he’s exactly where he belongs. You can’t help but think what could have been if Jungkook hadn’t gone to Seoul way back when and at this point, it’s not really something you want to think of anymore because one day, you see him and the rest of BTS looking rather stunned after their first win but soon they’re all smiles and though you haven’t really been following the group, their expression told you all that you needed to know. From then, it was win after win after win and you’re happy for Jungkook, you really are and yet just like the time you had first saw him debut, there’s this bitterness that seems to linger.
As expected the second semester damn near knocks you out with all the work and midterms you have to sit for and this time you find yourself barely being able to crawl your way through finals week and finally, when all of that is done and dusted, you let out a heavy sigh, glad that you can at least rest during the winter break. It’s your first time spending the holiday season alone and most of your friends have gone home for the break, but you’ve decided to stay because you part-time job pays you double when you work during this season and you know you need the money. Sometimes there are slow days at your workplace and you find yourself just mindlessly watching the music program that plays on the TV. There are occasions where you see the familiar doe-eyed boy on TV with the rest of his group and by this point, you’ve given up trying to avoid the group as it is simply impossible. You hear their music being played on the streets, you see the buskers performing to their songs and you see their posters hanging outside music stores. They’re just everywhere and you suppose that’s a good thing.
You watch the TV curiously as confetti pops on the stage and BTS is yet again announced as the winner for the night and despite all that has happened, the smile on Jungkook’s face still makes you feel all warm inside. He looks so familiar and yet he seems someone so entirely different. It has been 5 years since you had last saw him at the station and of course he’s changed because so have you. With each passing day, BTS grows in popularity and you feel yourself being slowly roped in. You feel yourself growing curious as to just what made them so special. That night, out of sheer boredom or rather curiosity, you find yourself looking up their latest album, already having doubts in your mind when you hit play but when the intro comes on and you hear the husky voice of one of the group’s rappers, you find yourself slightly intrigued.
The song plays and as the lyrics talks about being doubted, about proving the naysayers wrong, about moving forward despite it all, you feel your doubts about the group slowly melting away because he had put into words your struggles and in that one song alone, you had found hope. As you slowly make your way down the track list, you feel guilt begin to creep up on you. You listen to the album for days on end, their lyrics speaking to your soul, their melodies igniting a fire within you and you regret it so much, regret thinking of Jungkook as a sell-out, as someone who had gone with whatever they told him to do just to be famous because you were wrong, so very wrong and you should’ve known better, should’ve known that Jungkook would have been the type to go for something less than conventional because he saw potential, because he saw a chance for him to become the musician he has always wanted to be.
From this mini album to the one prior, you feel youth itself being captured in the songs, from teenage angst, to the carefree attitude that came with being young, the mini albums had it all. He’s grown from the young thirteen-year-old who sang about the trivial things in life to someone who helped write and produce songs that talked about pain, love, joy and an amalgamation of emotions you never thought he was capable of. You’re sucked into some sort of hole and before you know it you’re on YouTube watching videos of him and the boys, living out their idol life. You see the struggle behind what you thought was easy success, you see the 6 other boys as big brothers, slowly shaping him into the man that he is today. You laugh to yourself thinking about the years you wasted mindlessly hating the boy and by extension the other 6 members over a few unanswered emails, over a decision he had made at 13 that has quite possibly changed his life for the better. Jungkook is out there inching closer to his dreams, living the best possible life he could and who were you to be mad at him for doing that? If anything, you were sad that you couldn’t be a part of that but really, that didn’t matter because as far as you know, he’s happy and that’s all you could ever wish for. So, maybe over the course of a few weeks you learn more and more about the group, about how they produce their own music, how they write their own lyrics, how their music resonates with you and mirrors so much of what you feel and suddenly, you find that you don’t hate them so much anymore.
Like a fool, you decide to spend little of what you have on their newest mini album. It’s to support your childhood friend, you reason. One who hasn’t so much as made an effort to contact you but he is, or rather was your best friend and though you haven’t spoken to him in 5 years, you see that he’s very much the same dork you know but just a lot more famous now. Truthfully, he’s still the boy that holds your heart, though you deny it very much and so you send in your order for the album within a heartbeat. It wasn’t much, in fact it's nothing compared to the many other fans who buy dozens of them, but this is all you can afford, and you hope your one album sale helps them in some way.
It is after the discovery of your new-found love for BTS that you finally return to producing music, dragging out the keyboard that you have long forgotten in the closet of your dorm room. You find peace in finally making music again, feeling as if you’re home again because after all, music is your love and you have neglected it for far too long. In the loneliness of the winter months, you make track after track, uploading a handful of them under a pseudonym that you’ve picked.
Navy, had been the name you had gone for because it’s a gender ambiguous name and in an industry that’s so cutthroat, you didn’t really need anything else working against you. To be fair, you expect nothing out of posting your songs online because there are no lyrics to them, only beats but it felt refreshing, pushing out original creative content and you just needed to have a place you could display them all for you to maybe one day come back and see how much you’ve grown.
The second year of college, took everything out of you and by the end of the winter semester, your will to go on was only hanging by a thread. You had been pushed into pursuing a career you know you weren’t made for, but you needed to do this, needed to succeed for your parents’ sake. When winter break finally comes around, you’re hit by yet another pang of loneliness and you turn to your trusty laptop and midi keyboard to forget about it all. The music you had posted online had gained some traction and you don’t like to brag but you have been paid a fair few times by a few large companies for some of your music and you watched as they become the base beats or samples for some of the largest hits of the summer. Of course, it hadn’t been an overnight success, it was a slow and long climb but all it took was one big break, and suddenly, you watched emails start to pour into your inbox. It’s rather interesting because there’s some sort of satisfaction with getting to see your pseudonym printed on the song credits section in the albums. Seeing it printed alongside some of the biggest names in the industry tells you that this will all be worth it, that once you’ve done your job as a filial child, you could go on and make music and it wouldn’t feel like you’re chasing an empty dream.
You produce most of your tracks during the break and usually, it doesn’t take you too long to get into the groove of making a new track or at least a catchy beat but this time, no matter what you did, everything you created either sounded horrible or too basic. With BTS’ songs playing in the background, you dig around your old files to see if you could salvage any of your abandoned WIPs but nothing seems to work. You decide to procrastinate, rearranging all your folders, sifting through old songs just for the heck of it. You play a few songs that you had made back when you were thirteen and you cringe at how they sounded so badly produced, Jungkook’s voice truly the only saving grace for a few of those tracks. It’s fine, you laugh. At least now, you could see how much you’ve grown as an artist. It’s hours after sifting through old files that you finally stumble across one that says No.1 Hit. You grin at the file fondly, remembering how Jungkook had played a simple piano melody and you had promised him that you would one day make it into a hit. You open the file, hitting play and it’s like a wave of nostalgia hits you as you hear those 5 simple keys being played. Mindlessly, you use the 5 key melody and choose to build a song around it, and you’re glad because it’s a lot better than you remember it to be, the 5 key melody Jungkook had played a relatively easy one but it wasn’t just 5 keys played in ascension, it was melodically unique enough to sound anything like a generic run of the mill ballad and for the first time in days, you manage to make progress on a track.
You work on the song tirelessly, it’s the only thing you do for days now that you have this new-found drive to make some music and so, you finish the song just a day away from Christmas and you tell yourself it’s a gift from you, to yourself. The finished product is a reminder that you still had it in you, that despite the fact that the semester had absolutely destroyed you, you could always return to music and make something you were proud of. You’ve come so far, you smile and perhaps you’re not as successful as Jungkook, not even close, but you were making a name for yourself and you allow yourself to take that as a small form of victory. You find it so funny that back then when the two of you were just sat in your room, talking about what ifs and what your future would be like, you would have never imagined this. You would never imagine Jungkook becoming an idol and you would never imagine yourself creating hit songs in a small dorm room. You play the song over and over again, and you’re taken back to 6 years ago in your bed room where he had first played the simple piano melody and you find yourself imagining Jungkook’s voice on the track, his soft crooning warming up your heart in the middle of your bedroom but ah, it’s a dream that never will be. He’ll never hear the song anyway, you scoff. You play the song another handful of times before you decide to head to the convenience store that’s just a block away, hoping that some alcohol might help dull the loneliness and pain you seem to be feeling.
It’s when you take a swig out of your now half empty bottle of soju that you play your song another time and at this point you wonder if it’s considered vain to play something you made over and over again, almost as if you were just staring at a picture of yourself for hours on end. After taking a short break from hearing your song for yet another time, the cheap convenience store soju gives you the brilliant idea of creating a faux email for the day just for the heck of it. You can hear your brain telling yourself that it’s the worst idea on earth but really with the amount of soju you’ve drank, you can barely discern right from wrong anymore. Your fingers type hastily on your keyboard and you think hard before laughing as you type in a new username. Busanbeats, you type out. It’s the silly little name you and Jungkook had given your so-called ‘studio’ when the two of you were 11.
Congratulations! You have just made a new account. Hello, Busanbeats.
You snicker at the new email sitting in your inbox. Busanbeats, god, how long has it been since you last saw that name? You’re surprised you even remember it.
You click on the compose button, a small window opening up for the new mail you’re about to send. Your cursor blinks in the recipient section of the e-mail and you mumble to yourself trying to remember just what his username is. Kook… Kookster? Kooksterz? Was there a Z or was it an S instead? Kooksterz97, you mumble to yourself… and you sigh typing it in before you pressed enter. You wonder if he still uses this email. Perhaps he’s abandoned it, probably having created a new username, a more professional one instead. Doesn’t matter, you shrug. Whether he really got the email or not didn’t matter to you. You just needed to put it out there somehow, that you on your own had created a song off of a simple piano track that had been played some 6 odd years ago, and this email was just that, a small trick to tell yourself that yeah, you did it, shared it with someone you actually personally know… or rather knew.
Merry Christmas, is the title of your email. You had decided on it as you watched the minute hand tick closer to midnight. You stare long and hard at the empty email, trying to think of what would be an appropriate message to send an ex-best friend. You’re not so sure he remembers you, let alone Busanbeats. For all you know, you’ve got his username wrong, you laugh or maybe like all those years ago, he wouldn’t even read the email. The cursor blinks in the empty box and without thinking, your hand sweeps across the keyboard, typing out what you’ve actually been wanting to say for 6 years now.
I miss you. I hope you’re happy wherever you are.
10 words, that’s all there is to your email.
You attach the sound file after glancing at your message again, quickly smashing the send button before you sign out and slam your laptop shut. You turn off the lights, crawl to bed and tuck yourself in just so the soju won’t give you anymore grand ideas. Merry Christmas, you whisper to yourself as you glance at the clock on the wall that showed that it’s now just a little past 12 in the morning. As you drift off to sleep, you wonder where Jungkook is because you remember that summer you had heard BTS was on yet another world tour. You let out a short snort, remembering how the two of you had once promised each other that one day, the both of you would travel the world together. You wonder if those faraway countries are anything like he’s imagined them to be. Truthfully, you’re a tad bit jealous because there he is slowly ticking off dozens of items on the checklist of things you had once promised each other while you on the other hand... you’re just here, trapped in a life that you’ve realized too belatedly that you’re not meant for. You can’t help but think that Jungkook has everything. He has the career, the 6 members that are family to him and an army of fans that love him and his group wholeheartedly, while you’re here, just… feeling alone, alone and alone.
Jungkook is exhausted, his limbs are screaming at him as he lays in his bed, finally able to rest after a tiring day of practice for yet another award show. He looks at his phone to see a new email, one sent to the spare email account from his childhood that he uses to sign up for games. He opens up the app to see the new message staring back at him and he damn near drops his phone.
Busanbeats.
The username makes his heart drop and soar at the same time and he doesn’t know what to do. The title of the email says Merry Christmas and he’s so afraid of opening it because what if it isn’t you? What if it’s someone sending incriminating photos of him to blackmail him with? Not that he’s done anything incriminating as of late, but the email is so out of the blue that he doesn’t really know what it could be. What if it’s some fan who’s done way too much research and has found out about his past, found out about you? Not that he’s embarrassed of either but it’s his little secret, one he wants to hold onto forever because his mind often returns to memories of you and him in your bedroom making silly tracks. Those memories make him smile, make him long to travel back in time just to hear you laugh with him again.
He misses you so much, by god does he miss you. He thinks about you all the time, too much in fact. He’s always so close, so close to dropping you a message on any one of your social media accounts, all of which he’s following under guise of a fake account. He wonders why you let strangers follow you but hey he’s not complaining because this way he feels as though he gets to see you go through life, almost as if he was right there beside you. He realizes just how creepy that may sound but honestly, it’s one of the little joys in his life, watching the little stories you post or the pictures you post, accompanied with captions about the day or just a funny one-liner. Though the two of you are apart, he feels like the two of you are growing up together because as odd as it seems, you’re still irrevocably you. Of course, you’ve changed in some way but there are still things about you that hasn’t changed, like how you constantly groan about homework or how you would light up whenever you see a dog on the street, which is evident from the stories you would always post and truthfully, no matter how many times he sees them, he never gets tired of it. Whenever you talk about that new song you like or that new movie you watched in any one of your posts, he tries to nonchalantly fit it in somehow into either one of the behind the scenes videos his company puts up of him and the boys or in one of his rare tweets, hoping on the off chance that you’d see it and connect the dots. Though, he finds that to be an idea that’s a little too far-fetched because from what his mother had told him, you didn’t really care about him anymore. Of course, she had put it in a much lighter, softer way but he knew that’s what she meant.
Jungkook lets out a sigh, once again staring at his screen. His phone is literally trembling in his hand, his thumb hovering above the email and he shuts his eyes, letting out a deep breath before he taps onto the message, finally opening the email up. Slowly, he peels his eyes open and he sees that the message has 10 words to it and all it takes is those 10 words for tears to start forming at the corners of his eyes.
I miss you. I hope you’re happy wherever you are.
There’s a muffled sob that leaves his lips and he quickly wipes away the tears that are beginning to roll down his cheeks. He can’t be sure that it’s you but if it is, he wants you to know that he misses you too. How much? He’ll never be able to put into words, but he misses you so much his heart aches whenever he thinks about you. I hope you’re happy wherever you are, is what your message says and of course he’s happy where he is now. His body may feel like it’s breaking apart with the amount of work he’s put in as of late but he’s happy because he’s able to do what he loves as a job but as cliché as it sounds, he’d be happier if he was able to share it all with you because after all, you are his best friend and he’s never thought otherwise even if the two of you haven’t spoken in years.
Jungkook sighs, just staring at the email until he notices there’s an attachment at the bottom of it, an mp3 file that simply says, untitled, and his heart stops beating for a second because is it you? Will he finally get to hear you say his name after 6 long years? Are you laughing in it? Are you screaming at him in it? It doesn’t matter… as long as he could just hear you say his name again, he’d be happy.
He hits play and there’s a few beats of silence before he hears a tune play. It’s a song, and it seems vaguely familiar, yet not until he hears the 5 keys, the same ones he had played all those years ago and he knows, it’s that song. It takes everything for him to not break down and cry and he plays the song over and over again until he finds that it’s way past his bedtime. That night, or rather morning, he spends a good half an hour or so typing out paragraph after paragraph. By the time he finally gains the courage to send you the email, it’s well past 3 in the morning. When he finally tucks himself into bed, he goes to sleep with the sweetest smile on his lips, his mind drifting off to thoughts of you.
In the following days, Jungkook and his phone are inseparable as he constantly refreshes his email again and again. The other members notice the youngest being rather odd, always muttering by himself, nervously gnawing on his lips as if he’s anxious about something. Must be the stress, they think because the last few days of the year are always the most stressful as they would have back to back performances at all the year-end award shows and if that wasn’t enough, they’re thinking about the nominations they have, heart fluttering at the thought of perhaps snagging a few awards of their own.
Jungkook sends the email again to the Busanbeats account far too many times but at this point he’s gone far past desperate and all he wants to do is to talk to you. His fingers hover over your various social media accounts and all he has to do is send it to you there, to any one of those pages but with your picture staring back at him, it suddenly feels too real, and he’s afraid that the Busanbeats email isn’t from you. He knows he’s being ridiculous because it can’t possibly be from anyone else but you but maybe what he fears the most is being left on read, or even worse, getting a reply from you where you just tell him how much you hate him. He spends days mulling over what to do before he decides he would just continue to care for you from afar, his fragile ego stopping him from doing what he wants to do the most, which is to reach out to you. Instead, he spends many of his days hunched over his table, writing down line after line of lyrics, his bin slowly being filled up with crumpled paper as he finds that he can’t seem to find the right words to fit the song.
As 2016 bleeds into 2017, Jungkook and the boys gear up for the upcoming world tour that they have, one that’s slated to be the longest tour they’ve ever been on. They practice day in, day out trying to iron all of the kinks out in their dance routines, making sure the spacing is perfect, that the band is ready and that the back-up dancers are prepared. There’s so much going on that Jungkook feels he barely has time to stop and breathe. In fact, the only solace he finds in all the crazy days he’s had is when he returns home and gets to watch your story for the day. Usually it’s nothing much, just what you ate or perhaps a few pictures of the streets of Seoul or maybe a dog that you had met at the park. It’s the mundane little things that you do that oddly brings him peace. He’s often imagined what it would be like to run into you on one of his off days. He wonders if you’ll even recognize him, wonders if you even know he exists anymore. Though he isn’t left wondering for long because when he opens up your story for the day after a particularly exhausting day at work, he’s met with a small snippet of you bobbing your head along to BTS’ latest song, an embarrassed laugh accompanying your dance before the video fades to a picture of the drink you had got at a café. Jungkook replays the short video so many times that he thinks he might be slightly deranged. It’s the tiny caption that’s on your video that gets him. It’s a few lines of text saying, this is the 4th time I heard this song today. There’s no escaping BTS huh? (ps guys, don’t lie… how many of you have dropped the I went to school with Jungkook line just to impress someone?). Jungkook can’t wipe off the smile on his face because his name… you had typed his name… You know of his group and you know their songs and you still thought of him… maybe not in the way he wanted you to but at least you did. It’s lame and childish, he knows but he can never think straight when it comes to you and anything you say or do that’s remotely cute sends his heart bouncing off at a speed he’s not comfortable with. Yet again, because of you, he goes to bed that night with the stupidest smile on his lips.
In the midst of your winter break, around early February, you get a rare call from your mother saying that a letter had arrived at the house, one that was addressed to you and that she had forwarded it to your current address. Confused, you decide to check your mailbox that day to find a dozen or so pamphlets and spam mail before finally, you find a letter with nothing but your name and home address printed on it. You open up the envelope to find two things. A ticket and a short letter. You furrow your brows in confusion, smoothing out the folded piece of paper to read its contents.
Hey Y/N, it’s been a long time. How have you been? Good, I hope. Anyway, the boys and I are having a concert in Seoul soon. I hope to see you there.
Best,
Jungkook.
You stare at the letter in utter confusion because, Jungkook? Is this really Jungkook? Is this a joke? It has to be… Perhaps one of your friends from primary school had decided to play a prank on you. You fish out the ticket to see the holographic sticker on it, indicating that the ticket is indeed real and it’s one that puts you in the VIP section along with special guests and family members.
It’s odd to think that Jungkook would send you this… It has been 7 years since you last saw him and it has been 7 long years of silence. Why now? You question. You read the letter a few times over before you let out a short snort. It’s Jungkook for sure, you can tell as much from his handwriting but his letter sounds so prim and proper, so robotic... nothing at all like the Jungkook you know but then again you realize you haven’t seen him in a long time and by now, he’s practically a stranger to you. If you really thought about it, you hadn’t really known him back then either because if he kept that audition 7 years ago a secret from you, who knows what else he’s hidden from you. You tuck the ticket and letter back into the envelope, placing it on your desk, looking at it from time to time, wondering if you should really go.
Technically, going to a BTS concert is an opportunity of a lifetime. Their tickets sell out in a matter of minutes and as far as you know, scalpers were selling them double, triple the price and even then, there are still people who are willing to pay that price. Though you’re not really ready to admit it, you rather like the band. You love the sincerity in their lyrics, the variety in their songs, the insane dance routines, the complexity of their accompanying story about youth and of course, the fact that all 7 of them look like they’ve been carved by Adonis himself, only helped sell their case more. It’s their music that spurs you to create more, to challenge yourself to become a better artist and if you asked yourself if you really wanted to go, the answer would be without a doubt, yes. Yet, you find yourself hesitating, debating between going and just staying home but soon enough, the day comes and hours before the concert you tell yourself fuck it before you grab your phone and head out the door.
When you get to the venue, it’s like a madhouse. You see the queue snaking around the stadium, tents set up for merchandise sale along the pavement and people everywhere with banners, posters, fans, whatever you could think of, they had it. The LED screens light up with footage of the boys, their names and pictures being displayed. Seeing Jungkook on the big screen, seeing the excitement first hand, honestly, it scares you a little. You stand in the queue alone, not knowing yourself where to go or what to do. There’s an obvious air of anticipation around the outside of the stadium, thousands of fans eager to finally see the boys kick off their live tour. As you get closer to the front of the queue, your heart starts to palpitate for no reason whatsoever. When the beep of the handheld machine used to scan the tickets grow louder, you wipe your hands at your pants, unsure as to why you’re feeling so nervous. It’s a split-second decision. With only a few more people until it’s your turn, you decide to jump the barricade and head on home. You can see people staring at you quizzically but the pressure of finally seeing your ex-best friend after 7 long years just makes you feel anxious and at this point in time, you think, it’s something you can’t deal with just yet.
You’re an idiot, a certified idiot because you return home to watch the concert through crappy handheld live streams when you could’ve been there watching it with your very own eyes but no, you’re a coward and you’re stubborn so you’re here dealing with the consequences of your personality. BTS are all smiles that night and it warms your heart knowing how much this concert means to them, how much their fans mean to them and when it’s all over and done with, you return to your own bed, feeling rather blue, as if you had actually attended that concert that night and you were feeling the full effects of post-concert blues.
Jungkook and the boys retreat back stage after they finally say goodbye to their fans and the curtains come down, signifying the end of the show. They bow diligently towards each other, and the staff, thanking each and everyone for their hard work tonight. Jungkook sinks down onto the couch, wiping away his sweat as he drinks a cool bottle of water. Everyone’s in a relatively good mood, congratulating each other for putting on a good performance and the boy pipes in on the conversation every once in a while, reminiscing the notable moments of the second day, somehow quite glad that they were able to close out the Seoul show with a bang. As the conversation continues, he slides off to the far corner of the room, searching for a particular staff member and when he finally finds who he’s looking for, he feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest.
“Did… did she come?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper.
The staff member looks at him rather quizzically before a moment of realization hits him when Jungkook gestures towards a ticket.
“Oh! Uhh, I’m sorry but nobody showed up,” He frowns.
“Ah, right… that’s okay, thanks,” He smiles weakly before bowing at him.
To be fair Jungkook didn’t expect you to show up but he sure hoped that you would. The ticket had got to you, that he made sure of because his mother had informed him that yes, your mother had sent it to you. He wonders if you were busy, if you perhaps had something better to do with your weekend. He tries not to think about it but he can’t deny that he’s a little hurt. In any case, he isn’t given much time to dwell on his feelings because the week following the Seoul show is as chaotic as ever. The whole company in an absolute ruckus as everyone ties up the loose ends before the boys head over to Chile for their first international show of the year.
The next few months are complete chaos as they go from city to city, from Chile to Brazil over the course of just a few weeks. As if performing overseas itself isn’t already a dream to him, then comes the notification of their nomination at the BBMAs and an invite to attend the award show. Subsequently winning the award and seeing all the international stars that he’s only ever had the pleasure of seeing through a screen, stand right in front of him and talk to him, it’s almost like he’s in heaven but of course, he doesn’t have much time to savour that feeling because the next day, he finds himself on another plane, on to another place. They hit a myriad of cities in America before heading back to Asia to perform in a slew of different countries, the boys entirely excited to put on show after show no matter how tiring it is. All 7 of them simply get into the routine of putting on shows and enjoying little of what is their down time, exploring a few cities here and there. Just as they think they can finally relax, then comes the announcement of their performance at the AMAs and the boys find themselves back in America again. It’s an exciting experience, one that Jungkook thinks he’ll never forget but when he finally returns home, months later and performs the last two shows to close out the tour, he breathes a sigh of relief, glad that the year has been nothing but good to him.
All the while as he flew from country to country, he never once missed any of your posts, the little pictures and clips of Seoul has him yearning to return but then he sees the sold-out stadiums each night and he remembers why exactly he’s out there traveling the world. He had returned to Seoul with a light heart and a bag full of postcards that he adds to his ever-growing collection. He thinks his year can’t get any better but mid-December as everything settles, the shock of winning a few more awards finally starting to ebb away, the boys get news that they finally got a slot with the ever elusive up and coming producer who went by the pseudonym of Navy. Everyone’s on the edge of their seat, counting down the days they finally get to meet the mysterious Navy. There’s been huge debate amongst the boys and resident producers at the company on who Navy actually is and though they’ve scoured the internet for clues, the theories online only make things seem murkier, a hundred and one theories floating around as to who exactly Navy is.
Navy.
Jungkook furrows his eyebrows whenever he hears the name. He’s visited their online profile a fair few times, reading the small blog posts they link whenever they answer a few questions from fans. Jungkook can’t explain it but this Navy seems so familiar and honestly, he thinks he’s a little crazy but whoever Navy is… seems to be a lot like you. From your favourite food, to your favourite colour and even down right to your favourite Disney movie. Jungkook knew all of those, still did even though it’s been 7 years. Oddly, all those details seemed to match with you. Aside from that, the songs they produce obviously does not sound like anything both you and him used to make but one day when a fan asks what one of their old songs sounds like, Jungkook thinks it’s definitely you because when hears the clip, he notes that it sounds like one of the clips you had played for him some years ago and he can’t seem to shake the feeling that somehow, Navy is his childhood friend, his best friend. As he listens to each song Navy is accredited to, he seems more convinced it's you because he notices a trend, notices you using similar instruments, the unconventional ones you’ve always loved using. Be it the odd strings here and there or the uncommon percussion instruments from various traditional instruments, the songs sound so you, albeit it’s a new and improved you. Of course, Jungkook didn’t want to tell anyone… afraid he would sound like a madman. So, all he does is wait, wait for the day Navy would walk through the front doors of the building.
2017 zooms by you before you can even blink. Your last year in college was perhaps the worst out of all your 3 years here but as you look at yourself in the mirror, standing in your graduation robe with your graduation cap in hand, you can’t help but smile at the thought that you’ve finally made it. On a chilly winter day, in the middle of the hall, you along with hundreds of others throw your caps up to the ceiling, celebrating the fact that now, all of you could finally go out and venture into the real world. The day is filled with many smiles and despite the amount of stress you had been through, the amount of sleepless nights you had begrudgingly suffered through and the numerous mental breakdowns you’ve cried your way through, you think it’s all worth it when you see your parents grin at you, telling you the 4 words you’ve always wanted to hear, that being, I’m proud of you.
Though your parents have always wished that you would go on to get that classic office job, you’ve pretty much shown yourself that you love music enough to be able to make it into a career. You know they haven’t always thought so, not even when the money you sent home seemed to be far too much for a college student to be making but it’s after a lot of coaxing from your part that they finally relent. Of course, the little luxuries you bought them helped push them over to your side. At least you have a degree to fall back on… in case things don’t work out, they murmur, and you snort, thanking them for their confidence. You understand though, they only want the best for you and to them the best was doing what was conventional. But you, you’ve always been rather the opposite of conventional and though your parents have always known that, perhaps they didn’t want to admit that until now. When they leave to return back to Busan, you can’t help but cry. They’re mostly tears of joy though because you feel like you’ve done what they’ve always expected of you and now that’s another burden finally rolling off your shoulders.
When you move out of the dorms and into the new apartment you’ve rented, it feels like the start of something new, the start of a new chapter and maybe you’re only this excited because you finally get to pursue your passion as a career. You huff, checking your schedule for the next few days when you see a big red Big Hit Entertainment taking up the Wednesday of your week. It’s rather ridiculous for you to think that you’re finally going to be able to work with the band that you love so much. Truth is, when you saw the email sitting in your inbox a few months ago, you had screamed and then subsequently archived the email away, feeling rather unworthy of being able to work with them, almost feeling like you’re not good enough. But as the end of the semester approached and graduation was just around the corner, you thought to yourself, what the heck, that you had nothing to lose from saying yes so, you email Big Hit back 3 months, yes three, after they had sent you that email. You had said something along the lines of if they’re still interested then you would love to work with BTS. Their response had come back almost immediately and by the end of the exchange, you found yourself booked to meet BTS and a few of their staff, the week after your graduation.
The Wednesday you have been waiting for comes soon enough and it’s just after midday when you stride into Big Hit’s headquarters. You approach the desk meekly, citing the appointment you had and with a smile, one of the staff leads you up to the meeting room. The room looks exactly like one of those big board rooms you see on TV and you can see a dozen or so people sitting around the table. As you take a glance, noting the 7 boys seated at the end of the table and the main producers at the company sitting off to their side, your palms begin to sweat, your bag almost slipping out of your grip. You can see Jungkook swiveling his chair around, excitedly chatting with the boys and you swear you could hear the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, the prospect of seeing him after so many years suddenly hitting you full force. You hesitate at the door, taking a step back, bumping into the side of the staff that had led you up here.
“I’m sorry,” You mumble. “I just need a few seconds to just—” You let out a large nervous sigh and she gives you a polite smile, nodding her head in understanding.
Through the small glass panel on the door, you can see all the producers you’ve only dreamed of working with, you see the band you’ve only dreamed of meeting. You want to work with BTS, of course you do. Their music inspired you to begin again and to work with them would be an absolute honour. But Jungkook… what if you meet him and he’s nothing like you remembered him to be, not the same boy who till this day still holds a major part of your heart. What if he looks at you and he hates what you’ve become? You don’t understand why you’re putting so much importance on what he thinks when he was the one who had abandoned you in the first place. His opinion shouldn’t matter, you thought and if anything, you’ll be able to get through it, you sigh. It’s with another deep breath that you finally turn to the lady, giving her a small nod and she smiles, reaching over to push the door open for you.
When the door swings open and you take a few hesitant steps forward, the room falls into pin-drop silence. You gulp, looking around the room, trying hard to avoid any eye-contact, your eyes darting around before you purse your lips and begin,
“Hello… I’m uhh… Navy.”
That sounded horrible, lame, you groan. It was nothing like the persona you had wanted to project.
There’s excited murmuring before everyone greets you and you’re shown to your seat. You gladly take your place, noting that your knees were about to give in from how nervous you are. This is your first time corresponding with artists and producers in person. Most of the time, your work is mostly done through numerous emails and calls and you’ve never actually had the experience of being in a board room like this.
Introductions begin, and they sweep around the room, from the producers, to those in charge of vocal arrangements, to anyone you could think of that was part of the music making process until finally, it reaches the 7 boys. They all greet you excitedly, stating their names one by one and you nod your head intently at each greeting, flashing them a smile, each time. It finally reaches the boy at the end of the table, the one you’ve avoided looking at since you stepped into the room and when your eyes meet his, you hear him clear his throat before he licks at his lips nervously.
“I-I’m Jungkook, the main vocalist of the band,” He stammers and despite your nervousness, you almost let out a light laugh. 7 years on and he was still the same shy boy you had met in the music room almost 13 years ago.
Everyone peers back at you, waiting for a proper introduction and you straighten your back, before you start.
“Like I said earlier, I’m Navy but uh… my real name is Y/N,” You smile, rubbing your hands together as you gaze around the room, your eyes meeting Jungkook’s for a second too long. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”
It’s a dream. It’s a dream. It’s a dream. That’s all Jungkook can think this is. He almost wants to scream for everyone to leave because all he wants is just a moment with you. Just one. It breaks his heart how nonchalant you look, your eyes sweeping over him as if he’s just like everyone else in the room. He knows that you know him, that you remember him but nothing you say or do shows that you even care that this is the first time you’re meeting him in years. In his mind, he’s thought of this situation over and over again. He’s thought about meeting you on the street here in Seoul, meeting you perhaps back in Busan over the holiday season, even someday meeting you right here in the company. Never once has he imagined you like this, so cold, so uncaring towards him. Of course, he’d want the reunion to be happy but he knows that’s unlikely and he’d rather see you sad or furious, or just see some type of emotion, any emotion because at least then it would mean that you care but this, seeing you so detached from him makes his heart ache in more ways than one.
The meeting edges more towards the serious side and you have to stop yourself from almost letting out a laugh when both Namjoon and Yoongi pipe up to tell you that they too take part in the music production side of things. You almost want to blurt out that you know that, that you also know all of their names by heart, maybe even knew their birthdates, but you guess it isn’t really the time nor place for that. Instead, you play track after track, noting the responses from the room, the small comments from the producers and the boys and you won’t lie, maybe you’re blushing a little because everyone seems to be enjoying the short snippets you’ve played for them.
“I can really see this track being one of the main songs on the next album,” One of the producers say as everyone in the room nods in agreement. You can do nothing but smile stupidly, because all of this feels like a dream to you and at this very moment you’re on another plane of existence, one where you’re feeling inexplicable joy.
It’s just about the end of your repertoire and you’ve played all the tracks that you think would suit BTS. There’s one more track sitting at the end of the list you have compiled and you hesitate, wondering if you should play it. You look up quickly to note Jungkook sulking in the corner and even if he’s said nothing the whole time, which honestly hurts you a little, you wonder if you could coax him out of his shell with this one track. You wonder if he remembers it and though you know you had tried sending it to him while drunk that one time, you’re quite sure he didn’t get it or maybe he did… and he actually hates it, you’ll never know because you had tried signing into that Busanbeats email account the day after but you couldn’t seem to figure out the password that drunk you had set the night before. But, you’re rather proud of the track. It’s in a style you’ve never tried before but still, it sounded great and you knew that this song fits BTS perfectly, especially since it was their music that night that had got you started on working on the track and the fact that Jungkook had in some way helped in the creation of this song, you think it’d be a rather fitting addition to their upcoming album. You shrug to yourself and decide on playing it for them because the worst that could happen was that they could say no, right?
“Oh, uhh… this next track,” You start, interrupting the conversation that was happening between a few of the people sat across you. “I… I actually made it while I was in a slump and it was your music—” You gestured towards the boys, your eyes stopping at Jungkook for a short while before you turn away. “—that helped me out of it. It was your music that sparked my muse.”
Everyone is waiting intently, listening in for that first beat. The music starts playing and it’s too familiar, Jungkook thinks and after just two seconds, when the first piano note sounds, Jungkook already knows the song. He’s stunned for a moment, his mind reeling as he watches you glance around the room nervously. He turns to see everyone else smiling, clearly enjoying the song and he shouldn’t say anything, he should just keep quiet like he has been doing the entire meeting but he’s speaking before he can stop himself.
“No. We wont be using this song.”
“Jungkook!” You hear Taehyung scold, the other boys soon following along.
“W-Wh— I think it’s perfect for the group,” You defend. “It’s a soft ballad with space for the rappers—"
“No.”
“Jungkook, what’s wrong with y—” Yoongi grumbles, obviously frustrated with the younger boy’s sudden outburst before he’s interrupted by Jungkook himself.
“I made that melody and I say, we can’t use this song.”
“Dude, what are you on about?” Hoseok questions.
“Jungkook, I-I thought you’d be happy,” You mumble. “Honestly, I thought you’d like it… with 7 of you on there it’ll—”
“It’s our song,” He murmurs. “You can’t give away our song.”
There’s an eerie silence to the room and you can feel the awkward tension in the air, the confused faces staring back at the both of you making you squirm in your seat.
“Okay… So, that’s a no to this song then,” you smile awkwardly. “That’s umm… all I have for today really so…” You clasp your hands together uncomfortably, slowly rising from your seat, unsure exactly how these meetings ended.
Thankfully, one of the staffs calls you to the side to talk about scheduling, asking for any more of your free days and a few of the other producers join in on the conversation. Oddly, it makes you feel a bit better after what had just happened and you’re glad that everyone is simply brushing the situation aside, instead talking about how they’d like you to help them develop some of the tracks they have in the works and perhaps how they could work with some of your tracks too.
When all the scheduling is over and done with, a few of the boys come over to apologize on behalf of Jungkook and you wave your hand at them, telling them that it was fine and you know everyone wants to ask the same question, wants to ask you what he had meant exactly when he said that he had made the melody but from the clenched fists and intense stares that Jungkook sent you during the altercation, they think it’s best to hold their tongue. With a last few goodbyes, you finally move to exit the room and you thank the fact that Jungkook has long since disappeared. You don’t really know what to do or say if he had been there and everyone would be watching the both of you, waiting for some sort of explanation for the weird tension between the two of you.
You step out into the hallway, insisting that you could find your own way out and you don’t tell them this but it’s really because you don’t want anyone to ask you any Jungkook related questions during the awkward silence in the elevator ride down to the ground floor. You’re humming to yourself as you wait for the elevator, smiling because despite it all, you deserve a pat on the back today for handling a big meeting on your own so well given the weird circumstance you were put in as well. When you hear the elevator ding, you let out a large sigh of relief, glad you could retire to your home soon and take a big fat nap.
Your feet wobble in the high heels that you had put on today and you click lightly on the button that says the ground floor. There’s the sound of hurried footsteps just as the door closes and without thinking, you click rapidly on the open button, glancing up only to fully regret your decision when you’re met face to face with your ex best friend. You panic, and you’re not sure why you do it but you try to push him out of the elevator, slamming on the close button but Jungkook must’ve anticipated your move because he fights his way back into the elevator and you let out a groan of defeat when you see the door finally close behind him.
Jungkook’s chest is heaving with exhaustion from the tiny scuffle and you’ve retreated to the corner, simply staring at your feet because you’re not sure where else to look.
“Y-Y/N, how’ve you been?” Is his sad attempt at trying to salvage the situation.
“Um, alright, I guess…” Is your reply and you’re not entirely sure what this is... this weird polite conversation you’re having. Is he genuinely trying to make small talk with you right now? Regardless, you assume you would have to keep the conversation going because what were you going to do? Stay silent as the elevator goes down another 15 floors? “And how about you? Great, probably,” You laugh, very awkwardly and good god this conversation is so painful that you almost wish you could just dissipate into thin air.
“Well, I’m better now that you’re here. A whole lot better,” He smiles and you let out an ugly snort before you shake your head at him and laugh, because really? Of all things to say, he chose to say that?
His heart flips in his chest at the sound of your laughter, because as cliché and gross as it sounds, it’s his favourite sound on this entire earth.
“Hmm, I see you’re even more of a charmer now too, huh?”
There’s 1000 things he wants to say, had thought up multiple words, sentences to say to you when he was in the bathroom just minutes ago, practicing his lines in the mirror but right here, right now, his mind is drawing a blank.
“Oh, by the way, I’m sorry about the song…” You mumble, noting now that perhaps you should’ve asked for his permission first before playing it because he was right, he did make that base melody and so that meant this is just as much his song as it is yours. “I guess you don’t like it but I—”
“No, no!” Jungkook shakes his head vehemently and the expression he gives you is almost like he’s horrified. “I love it. I love the song. I’ve been listening to it ever since you sent it to me.”
Sent it to him? Oh… Oh… So he did get the email after all?
“Oh right, that,” You laugh. “Then what gives?”
His heart breaks when he hears you say that because how could you not see how special the song is? How could you be so ready to give it away?
“It’s just ours,” He mumbles. “Yours and mine and maybe I’m just… selfish like that,” He murmurs, shifting his weight from one feet to the other and you let out a quiet scoff, noting how much the last part of his sentence had sounded just like what he had said all those years ago.
“I guess not everything about you has changed then,” You smile as the elevator dings, prompting the both of you to walk out.
Jungkook doesn’t say anything as he continues to follow you, walking by your side until you reach the exit. His mind is nothing but a big mess now and he can’t seem to be able to string a sentence together because seeing you right in front of him, it’s like his body is still in shock. He didn’t know what to say first, didn’t know whether it was appropriate to just tell you how much he misses you, that he’s so happy for you because you’ve finally graduated and he knows how much of a struggle college was for you, that he loves all the songs you’ve managed to produce over the past years... but he didn’t want you to think he’s a stalker. It’s been 7 long years and it almost feels like this is him making a new first impression but before he can get any one of those things out, he hears you saying a quiet, well, bye, I guess... and he calls for your name when he finally registers your sentence but by then, you’ve disappeared into the taxi and he’s left standing at the front entrance of his workplace looking like a complete fool.
With his head hanging low, Jungkook retreats back up to the meeting room where everyone is still lounging around in and the moment he steps in, he could feel everyone staring at him.
“Honestly Jungkook, what was with your attitude the entire meeting and what’s with the whole song thing?” Namjoon asks.
“We just… we know each other,” He mumbles. “I grew up with her. She’s my… was my…” He can’t even complete the sentence now, not after all that has happened today.
“Oh, she’s her,” Jimin shakes his head, almost laughing. Jungkook didn’t talk much about his life back in Busan, but when he did, he would almost always talk about you. The details about what happened between you and him remain blurry to him and to the rest of the boys but all that they know is that you and him were once best friends who made music together and he had left abruptly to come up to Seoul and join the company.
“Wow, you’re friends with one of the upcoming and most talked about producer in the industry and you didn’t tell us?” Jin jokes, trying to turn the situation around, noting the deep frown Jungkook is wearing.
“Well I didn’t know for sure until today…” He sighs. “And then she played the song too… the song with the melody that I… the one we promised each other we would…” He lets out another series of sighs and everyone in the room is only more confused because Jungkook isn’t really clearing up anything with all his incomplete sentences. “Let’s just go for practice, please,” He grumbles, leaving the meeting room with his shoulders drooping down, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he mumbles to himself. So much for a first impression, he mumbles to himself.
Meeting Jungkook again isn’t what you had expected it to be. You had always imagined telling him just how much him leaving you had hurt you, that the fact that he had slowly forgotten you had hurt you even more but when you saw him standing in front of you, all quiet, looking at you as if he was waiting for you to say something, you found yourself tongue-tied. You guess it’s for the best, that you should leave all of that behind because it’s stupid to hold a grudge for so long and if he could move past everything that has happen, then you can too. You can be the bigger person and let everything slide. All you want is for the both of you to have a professional relationship at most, hopefully never having a repeat of what had happened in the meeting room just a few minutes ago. You’ll be heading back to Big Hit in just two days to explore more ideas for the upcoming album and you hope that then, you and Jungkook can finally clear the air.
Part 2
A/N: I swear this was meant to be a oneshot but as always, i got carried away lol so there will be a part 2!!!!!!! anyway thank you for reading! and as always, feedback is welcome (:
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The Shining versus The Shining
[This review discusses Stephen King's novel The Shining and the film adaptation by Stanley Kubrick.]
"This inhuman place makes human monsters."
The first time I saw the 1980 film The Shining, I felt cheated. A brilliant, world famous director took one of my favorite books, cast one of my favorite actors in the lead, and then... he completely screwed it up. For years, I felt that Stanley Kubrick had ruined one of my favorite books. I was incensed. How could he?
My opinion has recently changed. Now I think Kubrick's The Shining may be a cinematic masterpiece. But it is not really a horror movie, and it's not really an adaptation of King's novel. It is its own self. If you see it as a separate entity, it's kind of fascinating.
The book
The Shining may very well be Stephen King's best novel, and that's saying a lot for a man who is probably the most famous writer in the world. In it, an alcoholic writer named Jack Torrance takes a last chance job as winter caretaker at a luxury hotel deep in the Colorado Rockies. As he, his wife Wendy, and their psychic five-year-old son Danny are cut off from the world by the weather, Jack slowly loses his mind and becomes a danger to his family. Were the malevolent ghosts of the people who died in the Overlook Hotel manipulating Jack, or was it all in Jack's head? Or was everything that happened caused by Danny's psychic gift?
The book succeeds on pretty much every level. The story is tightly written and almost impossible to put down. The Overlook itself captures the imagination -- its beauty and isolation, its gory history, the ghosts of past tragedies. I cared a lot about Jack, Wendy and Danny, and I so wanted everything to turn out for them, even while I was aware that it almost certainly would not. (Never get too attached to the characters in King's books.) I was especially into Danny. Psychic characters are not easy to make real and believable, especially kids, but Danny is captivating. I also loved Dick Hallorann, who shines, pun intended, in the opening chapters. The first time I read The Shining, I was blown away. I was young and impressionable, and I never forgot how this book affected me.
There are arguments to be made that King's works are too internal to translate well to the screen, but I don't think that's true. What about Stand By Me, The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile? (And possibly more?) I wonder if some producers tend to see the scary in King's works, and just don't look beneath the surface for what makes it work?
I initially intended to just review the movie, but I just couldn't help talking about the book first. So… on to
The movie
After my initial serious disappointment, I had never intended to watch the movie again. And then I saw a documentary called Room 237 about some of its more devoted fans. It made me want to give the movie another shot. I'm glad I did.
While the book centers on what the characters are thinking and feeling, the movie is almost completely external. The Overlook itself is the main character, and what a character it is. Nearly every shot inside the Overlook is framed in a way that reminded me of how lines are drawn to create perspective in art, with the focal point way off in the distance. We keep seeing the ceiling and light fixtures (mostly chandeliers) above, and the very strange carpets on the floor. Showing the ceilings and floors is not something filmmakers tend to do. It has the effect of making the characters look small and strange, as if they don't belong. Or as if the Hotel is swallowing them.
As fans of the movie explain in Room 237, the hotel is oddly shaped and its geography makes no sense. The long, confusing hallways are echoed by the maze, which is so immense that it seems impossible that anyone could have created it. The kitchen is also maze-like, and everything is too big; the size of the industrial cans and bottles makes Wendy look smaller. There are sets of French doors all over the small caretaker's apartment, and every book in every bookcase is tilted at an angle. There are empty chairs in nearly every shot. Jack's typewriter changes color, from white to dark gray to blue. In one scene, the pattern in the carpet actually changes. Although these are things the casual viewer might not consciously notice (and I might not have if I hadn't been primed by the documentary), we're aware of it subconsciously, and it gets our lizard brain buzzing.
One of my favorite things in this movie is Danny riding his Big Wheel through the long, strange hallways of the Overlook. It's just what a kid would probably do, but it increases the feeling that they're in this immense, bizarre place that is outside of reality.
My biggest problem with the movie is that the characters have all of the humanity and complexity of chess pieces. I suppose it was intentional. But what an unholy waste of Jack Nicholson, who is arguably one of the best actors in the world, although I'm more of a fan of his early work (Chinatown, Five Easy Pieces, The Last Detail) before he started playing a caricature of himself. He did a good job with what he was given, but there is really no opportunity to get to know Jack Torrance, or what motivates him. Why he does what he does is almost inexplicable.
And Jack and Wendy never feel like a couple. Was Shelley Duvall miscast? Did the actors just have zero chemistry? Or was this dissonance between them what Kubrick intended, a way of showing the unresolvable tension in their marriage? Danny Lloyd as Danny made me think of Jake Lloyd as Anakin in Episode 3. Interesting coincidence with the surnames. I don't like criticizing child actors, so I'll stop there.
Dick Hallorann is a favorite character of mine in the book, and even though Scatman Crothers did a good job, I hated how Dick was treated in the movie. But I did love the strange female nudes with the huge afros that decorated his bedroom in Florida.
A few more random comments about the movie that contributed to the mood it creates:
-- In one scene, Wendy and Danny are watching television, and there is no electrical cord visible. In another, Jack, seated, is reflected in a mirror and it looks as if he has two sets of legs. (Because, of course, Jack is becoming another person.)
-- In yet another, Jack is sleeping at his desk, but he is balanced on the edge of his chair in such a way that if he had actually been sleeping, he would have fallen off.
-- We never actually see Jack do any caretaking. There is one scene with Wendy in the boiler room. The boiler room is a big deal in the book, almost nonexistent in the movie. Sigh.
-- We never see much out of the windows except for glare, which makes it seem even more that the outside world doesn't exist.
-- There is no music during many scenes. When there is sound, it is disconcerting whines and screeching, or eerie wavering vocals like the score of Kubrick's 2001, A Space Odyssey. In fact, a lot of this movie makes me think of 2001. Which I believe is a better movie. (I should probably get around to reviewing it someday, but it's intimidating, I'll admit it.)
-- In the opening interview scene, Ullman (Barry Nelson) does some very strange things with his hands. It's like they don't belong on his body.
-- In the car, the Torrances talk about the Donner Party. Jack seems to think cannibalism is acceptable in order to survive.
-- The Torrances bring more luggage than would actually fit in the trunk of their tiny VW bug.
-- The walls of the maze are thirteen feet high. Who would do that?
-- The word "overlook" has a double meaning, of course.
-- The hotel decorations have a Native American motif, leading fans of the movie to think that Kubrick was commenting on the genocide of the American Indian.
-- In many rooms, especially the notorious Room 237 which may have been the ugliest hotel room I've ever seen in my life, colors and patterns clash. (Although maybe that was just the seventies.)
-- In the final scenes, Wendy is wearing what may be the ugliest outfit I have ever seen on a leading lady in a mainstream movie.
To conclude, I can look at the movie now and appreciate its brilliance, but it doesn't generate emotion, and I don't find it the least bit scary. For me, it's like looking at a beautiful object at a distance. The book is more of an intimate experience. But then again, books usually are.
Opinions? Comments? I've tried to avoid spoilers in this review, but feel free to talk about anything -- spoilers are permitted in the comments. (And if you haven't seen the movie or read the book, beware!)
Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.
#The Shining#Stephen King#Stanley Kubrick#Jack Nicholson#Jack Torrance#Danny Torrance#Wendy Torrance#Movie Reviews#Book Reviews#Doux Reviews#something from the archive
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Gamble - Ignis x fem!reader Greatest Showman AU Pt. 2
Finally, the second part of this is done. Took me ages due to health, and I’m relatively OK with where it’s at so, here we go.
Lots of angst involved. Obviously this has major spoilers.
@shadeswritings @atarostarling @sevansheart
[Part One]
The shift in your husband’s demeanor is insidious, creeping. At first, you’re positive you’re imagining things. Business booms, which is truly a splendid thing, however he spends much of his time within the theatre performing with his troupe. While you’ve resigned yourself to supporting Ignis, your girls are finding it increasingly difficult to mask their disappointment.
Every missed tessenjutsu competition breaks your daughter's heart into more pieces. It hurts you to hear her sobbing into her pillow at night, her and her sister rarely seeing their father as what he ends up calling a circus runs late into the night.
Something rouses you from sleep one evening; your elder daughter climbs into bed with you, eyes red and swollen with grief. Soft sobs wrack her body as you wrap arms around her tiny frame, burying your face in her dark blonde hair.
"When will we see daddy again?" she manages around hitching breath.
"Soon, darling," you soothe, hands moving to rub circles on her back. "Soon."
Quiet sighs against your chest, where your heart races, knowing you've told her a bold face lie. In truth, you aren't sure when your husband will return to being a more constant fixture in your lives. A single tear rolls down your cheek before the call of sleep pulls you back under.
Months pass, and you can't deny that the success of the circus makes life much easier. Bills no longer go unpaid, you don't fear something being taken from you for lack of funds. Ignis is able to have the holes in the roof patched and do other improvements to your home, and things become comfortable. It's baffling to think you even manage to start saving.
Ignis wakes you one morning with a gleeful smile, tugging on your hand as you struggle to blink away the dredges of sleep.
"Darling, come on!" he whispers excitedly, working very hard to not wake your daughters.
Stumbling out of bed, you notice that many of your possessions are missing, immediately raising alarm that in your sleep, a thief somehow managed to nap your things. The anxiety must be plain upon your face, for Ignis draws you to face him, smiling.
"It's fine, Y/N," he assures, bending to plant a kiss upon your lips. "I have something to show you and the girls. Could you get them up and ready?"
"Ah, well, of course, dear," you agree, still confounded.
An hour later finds you in a carriage heading somewhere very familiar. The tang of salt fills your nostrils, the willows outside the window heralding your approach to the sea. An inkling at the back of your mind, suspicion growing as you pass your parent's home.
"Ignis, are you taking me to the place went to that night all those years ago?" you question, eyes narrowed.
Though his answering smirk tells you all you need to know, you pull up to the sprawling mansion that you recall being devoured by ivy. Instead, its majesty is unmarred by the years of decline, looking as if it has just been built. Your breath catches in your throat, the sheer beauty of it all overwhelming you.
"For you, my darling," Ignis whispers, stepping up behind you, winding his arms about your waist.
Around you, life moves in double time, your girls squealing in ecstasy as they explore the grounds of your new home. Ignis presses a kiss to your hair, finally prompting you to return to life.
"It's... it's so much," you breathe, still in shock. "You didn't have to do this for us, Ignis. We were happy in our home."
"And just think of how much happier you'll be here, in this life I promised you," he insists, and, rather than argue, you allow his mood to infect you.
The girls have claimed their rooms by the time you enter the grand foyer, visions of the past causing a bit of cognitive dissonance. It's surprisingly easy to remember how the space looked last you visited, the wonder taking over your senses, selling you on a life of mystery. A small part of you wistfully wishes for a grand life far from the one you left behind. A larger part wonders if the return to wealth will restore your relationship with your father.
"Does this mean you'll be home more often? If we're able to afford this, it would be nice for you to take a break," you wonder aloud.
"Ah, that," he answers, wincing. "I'm exploring some potential directions to take the circus. I've found a partner, a man I believe you're familiar with. Noctis Lucis Caelum."
Stopping dead in your tracks, you whirl to face your husband, eyes wide in shock.
"You've convinced Prince Noctis to be your partner? What on Eos is that boy thinking? Ardyn will lead the press in an assault on his character the second he catches the boy with you," you rant.
"Darling," Ignis laughs. "Perhaps you aren't the only highborn bored with playing the game."
You huff a breath. He makes a fine point. "His father must be so angry."
"I would guess he cares not for his father's opinion," Ignis muses. "At any rate, he's going to assist me in appealing to higher society. We've got the attention of the middle- and lower-class population."
The confession forces your lips into a thin line, annoyance rising within you. "We don't need the attention of higher society, Ignis."
He pats your arm in comfort. "Of course, Y/N. You'll see. It's going to be wonderful."
It was the first time you begin to question his motives, and as it would turn out, not the last.
Not long after moving into your new home, Ignis arrives home early one day, a crazed grin pulling at his lips. Immediately, you're on edge.
"Noctis and I are heading to Tenebrae with the troupe," he announces.
"What? Tenebrae? Whatever for?" Incredulity turns your question into an accusation.
"He's gotten us an audience with Queen Sylva Nox Fleuret," Ignis clarifies, as if it should be obvious. "It's going to open up so many more possibilities!"
"The Queen... of Tenebrae," you sputter, standing and pacing about. "Ignis, what's this really about?"
"Y/N, I'm simply attempting to fulfill my promise. To you, and to your father. To give you the life I said I'd give you, the one you wish for," he states.
A wave of clarity crashes into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. You pause in your anxious steps, turning slowly to face your husband. He's still in his uniform, and you notice a travel bag in his hand.
"The life I wish for, Ignis, or the one you do?" you whisper, flinging the accusation before the courage to do so blows away in the winds of change.
Ignis either doesn't sense your hostility or chooses to ignore it. "They're one and the same, my dear. Now, bid me farewell. I must get going."
Before you can manage a scathing reply, your daughters run into the room, immediately clinging to their father. Happy chatter from them seems to pass by him as he quickly gives them hugs and kisses, stepping over to give you the same treatment before leaving.
The sight of your daughters chasing after his carriage, crying for him to come back, breaks you and you sink to the floor, agony-laced tears dropping from your eyes.
~~~
The subsequent month is trying, dejection creeping into you and your girls as the days pass without Ignis. Your eldest no longer wishes to do tessenjustsu, preferring to stay at home holed up in her room when the three of you aren't working on studies. Similarly, your younger daughter keeps to herself as well, sometimes wandering out to the garden to wait for her father's carriage to bring him home.
Return home he finally does, but he feels strange, distant. Something has changed and immediately, your heart worries that your future is uncertain.
To your surprise, he takes time to play with the girls in the garden, their muddy feet crossing the threshold well after dark. You try desperately to ignore the rising panic, but after dinner when the girls are tucked into their oversized beds, you corner Ignis.
"Why do I feel as if you're further away now than you were in Tenebrae?" you worry aloud, voice thick with emotion.
“I’m not sure I understand this air of melancholy, Y/N,” Ignis states, deftly avoiding the searching nature of your musings.
“Something is happening,” you refute, voice flat. “Why won’t you tell me?”
When he pauses, your heart leaps into your throat, choking you. Taking deep breaths around the lump is difficult, almost painful, but you try desperately to rationalize that yelling won’t fix anything. His expression momentarily betrays his silence, and your stomach drops to the floor.
“While in Tenebrae, I made a business arrangement with Oracle Lunafreya,” he clarifies at last. “She shall be putting on a debut performance here in Lucis and depending on the reception, perhaps we will explore a longer-term contract.”
“There’s more to it than this!” You launch your words like grenades, your anger palpable at his evasion.
He simply smiles at you, his eyes far away. “Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see. Luna's performance is in a few days. I have little to coordinate so I shall be here with you and our girls.”
Somehow, the idea doesn’t assuage your fears.
Ignis keeps true to his word, spending a majority of the following days at home. The girls are all smiles and starry eyes, hanging upon his every word as he regales them with tales of the trip to Tenebrae. They spend much of their time outdoors, either in the vast gardens or by the sea. You feel much like you’re experiencing your own life as if from the outside, barely going through the motions as the days pass.
Through Ignis' influence, the girls are very excited to see Luna perform. On the day of the debut, they dress up in their finest wear, their best shoes, hair shining in perfection. You, in sharp contrast, are nervous for reasons inexplicable, dressing in a daze and hoping for the best. Many years have passed since you’ve been in the company of high society; you can only hope you remember all the etiquette courses you took as a girl.
Your father is likely to be present as well, the icing on the proverbial cake. The man’s never even seen your daughters, despite living not a mile away.
To be fair, the performance is beautiful; the rumor that her voice is a healing balm certainly holds some merit. However, there’s as gnawing in the pit of your stomach, your intuition scrambling to set off warning bells but for what, you’ve no idea. At the very least, it doesn’t take long to find out.
Ignis introduces you and your children to Luna, at which time the gnawing blossoms into full-fledged burning. Something is amiss, yet it eludes you before you can place your finger upon it. You smile despite your immense discomfort.
During the reception, your suspicions over your husband’s actions are confirmed when he makes a grand to-do in front of Cor. Lips set in a sneering smile, he waves his new status in your father’s face, flaunting that he’s never come to know his granddaughters, nor achieved what Ignis has. As the scrutinizing eyes of upper society slide to your shocked face, you scurry forward to collect your children.
“Ignis,” you hiss, embarrassed and angry, “stop this nonsense at once! We're leaving!”
Retreat is the only option; some of the patrons titter behind their hands at the shameful display.
“Still the tailor's son,” Cor laughs as you flee.
The world blurs as embarrassed tears burn your eyes, anguish rising as physical pain in your chest. It steals your breath, forcing you to slow your hurried steps, the worried faces of your daughters coming into view as you hunch over. They cling to your legs, pressing tiny faces into your dress as they sob with you.
"Mother," your elder daughter murmurs, "what's wrong with father? When are things going to return to normal?"
At her query, you loop your arms about the two of them, shaking your head. "I don't know, darling. I don't know."
Ignis doesn't return until well into the early hours of morning. Grief has kept you awake, willing you to remain alert until his feet cross the threshold of the home you've come to resent. To you, it represents the loss of magic, the change in your husband, the many hours spent alone while he does whatever he's doing when away from home.
With that thought festering in the depths of your mind, you round on him as soon as he enters your bedchamber. A tired greeting dies upon his lips as you storm over to him, fury rolling off of you in turbulent waves.
"I knew, Ignis," you seethe, "I knew this wasn’t about getting the higher society's attention to better things for us! You lied to me, you lied to your children, and Six, what's left of us?"
He's taken aback, as if your anger is something that blindsides him. For all you know, he truly has been oblivious to what his behavior has wrought. "Darling, what's this about?"
"What's this... what's this about?" you screech, disbelieving. "How can you look me in the eye and not see what you've done to our family? All of this to prove something to my father, to the highborn society that you aren't poor anymore. Their opinion doesn’t matter, Ignis! Your family is what should matter!"
It's when he falls silent, not so much as an apology passing his lips, that you zero in on the packed bag in his hand. Hackles raise immediately, another flood of sickening animus taking over.
"Oh, I see," you snarl, jabbing a finger in the direction of the bag. "Off on another adventure, not so much as a discussion over it. Where is it now, Ignis? And for how long?"
"Luna and I have set a contract for a national tour," he explains, voice lifeless. "A few months, to be sure. I leave Noctis as ringmaster in my absence. With the extra profit from the tours-"
"I don't care about the profit," you spit. "Keep your profits. Keep it all. Just go."
"Ah, well," Ignis fidgets, "I'm merely making ready. We won't set off for another few days. I'll get to spend more time with you and the girls before I leave."
"I don't even understand why you need to go with her," you grumble. "It doesn't matter. I'm going to go to bed, Ignis. I can't deal with this any longer."
In the days he remains home, it's almost easy to forget the troubles weighing heavily upon you. He doesn't visit the theatre once, spending his time doting on your girls, trying to reconcile things with yourself, smiles upon his tired face. Beneath layers of exhaustion, you can still spy the remnants of the starry-eyed boy you met a lifetime ago.
The illusion shatters when he leaves again. This time, you're not so sure you can piece it back together.
Every day Ignis is gone widens the aching hole in your heart. You find yourself dancing through the house, remembering the steps you and Ignis used to do in tandem. A sad melody bubbles up from your wounded soul in time with your feet, the actions a soothing salve on the sting of solitude. If only it could return your husband to you. Imagining yourself as the piper brings a fleeting smile to your lips.
The days dredge on, and news reaches you that more and more protesters are gathering outside of the circus. The girls don't have much desire to go lately, and it's hard for you to face that which has torn your family tatters. You note that Ignis' share of profits from the circus is decreasing and for the first time in years, you start to worry about your future.
An abrupt letter from Ignis states that he'll be returning home, asking that you meet him in a few days at the depot. Unbidden, your heart soars; perhaps his return home earlier than expected indicates that he has finally awoken from his dreams of fame. Even your daughters start to get excited.
However, when the day arrives, it ends up being a nightmare. Any joy you may have felt at having your husband back in your arms is stolen away when a fire crew races past you, heading for the theatre. Of course, Ignis follows, you and your daughter not far behind. The sight that greets you is a harrowing one: the theatre engulfed in a raging inferno, the troupe desperately working to get free. You spy Noctis run back into the flames, apparently looking for one of the girls.
Ignis turns to you, desperation settling in crazed jade eyes. Suddenly, it occurs to you that he means to enter the building as well.
"Ignis, no!" you shout, but it falls on deaf ears.
Witnessing your husband run headlong into a burning building is enough to break you, let alone the subsequent collapse of upper floors after he does so. Tiny gasps from your waist drag your eyes away from the wreckage to grip your girls tight, despair falling over the three of you in a stone blanket.
Minutes pass, and finally Ignis returns from the scorched building, holding Noctis' unconscious form. The fire team takes Noctis to the nearby hospital, leaving Ignis to sit dejectedly outside his ruined theatre. Relief washes over you upon seeing your husband safe and you make to comfort him when a newspaper catches your eye: the front page graced with a photo of Ignis and Luna on stage, their lips meeting as they embrace.
Ice shoots through your veins at the betrayal and you rush to get your daughters away from the scene before they note the newspaper as well. Leaving Ignis behind, you take your children and head home to consider your next move.
The universe seems to have decided your fate for you; there's a notice upon your door proclaiming that the bank is foreclosing upon your home. Crazed laughter forces its way out of you before you can form a thought, your daughters gazing up at you in alarm.
"We have to leave, mother?" your youngest asks, a waver in her tiny voice.
"Yes, darling," your voice holds a similar tone when you answer. "Pack your bags. It's time you got to know your grandfather."
Packing is a haze, an autonomous process that's drowned out by the thundering of your heart in your ears. Your mind moves faster than you can process, the photo in the paper plastered across each and every thought, the words in your mind static. A petty part of you is glad Ignis is losing everything right along with you. The nausea roiling in your stomach threatens to send you retching.
Hurried footsteps crunching over the gravel of your driveway draws your attention and you're glad you're done packing and can leave. You've no desire to deal with Ignis in this state and if you're being honest with yourself, maybe never again.
"Y/N, wait!" he wails as you stomp out of the front door. "I know you must be upset but please allow me to explain!"
"No, Ignis," you fire back, allowing the anger from the past few hours to seep into your tone. "I cannot... you and that woman... I knew something was not right when you left. And to top it off, the bank taking the home back? I cannot, Ignis..."
His breath hitches and he doesn't move to stop you as your girls trail behind you, bags in tow. "Where are you going?"
"Home."
"This is your home!" he pleads, voice cracking with emotion.
A startled, sardonic laugh bursts forth. "No, it isn't. Nor is it yours any longer."
Something you never expected to do was walk up to your father's door in the middle of the night with two children and no husband, yet here you stand, breaths quickening in anxiety as you stare at the familiar door. The very same home that felt like a cage to you for so long would now be your refuge. Well, you certainly hope it will be. Surely Cor wouldn't send you away, would he?
Stepping up to the door, you knock upon it with a firm hand and hold your breath. Moments pass and you're about to give up when the large door opens slowly, the suspicious eyes of your father peering into the night. Recognition flares in his eyes and he throws open the door with a gasp.
"Y/N," he hums, and while he's never been of the emotional sort, you can hear it in his voice, "I... I saw the paper. Please, come in."
Though it feels a bit awkward, you usher your girls in as he retreats to allow you space. They huddle into each other, clearly out of their element. Cor apparently senses this, coming forth to kneel next to them, extending a polite hand in greeting.
"Hello girls," he says, a warm smile on his face. "I'm your grandfather, Cor. It's very nice to meet you."
They shyly shake his hand and you think maybe this will turn out better than you thought. Cor directs you to 2 of the bedrooms upstairs, where you take one to settle the girls in for bed. The day has been so hectic and emotional, they practically fall asleep the moment their blonde heads touch the pillows. On the other hand, you're feeling very high-strung, wandering back downstairs where you're surprised to see Cor waiting.
"I..." he starts, opening and closing his mouth a few times. "I'm sorry to see that things have come to this, Y/N. I cannot say I'm not happy to have you home, however."
You shake your head, fighting tears. "Please, father, not today. I know your opinion of Ignis. I know you said I'd come home. Please, please... leave those words unsaid."
Whereas you expected a fight, he simply nods and steps toward you, arms extended. The emotions of the day overwhelm you and you close the distance, crying out your grief into his worn sleep shirt.
Two days pass in which grief does not loosen its grip upon you. Hooked claws score your soul, bleeding you of all tears and leaving a hollow shell behind. There's a small amount of solace taken in that the girls get on very well with their grandparents and for the majority seem to be enjoying themselves.
The sea calls to you, drawing you to its edge where in the white sand you made a friend. Allowing the song of the washing waves to take your thoughts, you find yourself humming the song you and Ignis used to sing when life was simple and full of wonder.
To your surprise, a second voice joins you, harmonizing. You wonder if you've finally lost your mind, but when sliding footsteps in sand reaches your ears, you turn.
Your heart clenches at the sight of Ignis standing before you, eyes alight with something you haven't seen in years.
"Darling, I..." he begins. "I've been such a fool."
While you want to be rude and twist the knife in his gut, you simply draw in a shuddering breath, gesturing for him to come closer.
"Yes, you have," you grouse instead.
"I allowed my desire to succeed cloud my judgement, turning it into a personal vendetta against the life I was forced to live as a boy," he continues, silently seeking permission to touch you. "It put me in a position for things to be misconstrued, Luna turned on me out of jealousy and I lost everything in the blink of an eye."
"Tell me, Ignis," you demand, allowing him to take your hands, "what really happened with the Oracle."
"She apparently thought I was interested," he clarifies with a grimace. "When I denied her and made the decision to return home, she sought to ruin my image and pulled me into an unwilling embrace on stage."
You peer into his eyes for many moments, finding naught but truth within them. A small smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. "So, Ignis, where do your priorities lie?"
"With you, and our children," he answers without hesitation, holding your gaze. "Always. I would like to see to the circus and hand it over to Noctis that I may spend my remaining days with the three of you."
Releasing the breath you hadn't realized you were holding, you wrap your arms about him. "Go, then, and return to us when you've finished."
Life returns to normal as Ignis does just what he promises. The two of you invest in a smaller home, near enough to Cor to freely visit, with enough space for the four of you without too much extra. Your eldest daughter resumes her tessenjutsu and to your surprise, your youngest attempts it as well. Finally, life is precisely the way you imagined it as you stood within the overgrown mansion and truthfully, you couldn't be happier.
#ffxv fanfiction#final fantasy xv#ignis x reader#greatest showman au#ignis scientia#noctis lucis caelum#reader insert#cor leonis#female reader#this thing is a beast#longest fic I've written#trash tales
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