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itsclydebitches · 5 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 6 “Our Way” (The Finale!)

We made it, folks. Volume 6 is finally over and my god what a disappointment it turned out to be.

I’ve danced my whole life and I had an instructor once who gave a lecture on choreography, cautioning us that the order you put your pieces in is just as important as the pieces themselves. Though each comes together to create a whole, your audience is more likely to remember the first and the last piece—so make those two count. Volume 6 began strong with the relic and the lore, and then ended on a flat, uninspiring, illogical note. Sadly I know what part of the performance I’ll be remembering from here on out.

However, first let’s tackle what we didn’t get this episode. There was no flashback to Oscar at Argus, re-characterizing his outing as something significant that might actually impact his growth as a character. Rooster Teeth really just… did that. They gave us an exact repeat of episode four, had Jaune physically assault Oscar, no one stepped in, no one bothered to check if Oscar was okay, we set him up staring morosely at the door, a two week cliffhanger, and then we really got an episode all about Jaune’s emotions while Oscar bought new clothes and made these people a casserole. He immediately accepted an incomplete apology, went so far as to speak like he thinks he’s going to die… and the group just smiled at him. Because remember, right now they only care about outsiders—which Oscar still very much is—when they’re helping and not getting in the way. Which Oscar has now promised to do. The finale gives us a brief moment where Ruby tries to praise Oscar for his efforts and it just rang as incredibly hollow to me. It’s easy to be kind to people when everything is going your way. You show your true colors when things get tough. RWBYJNR has repeatedly demonstrated this volume that when push comes to shove they’re willing to throw Oscar (and Ozpin) under the bus.

I’d need an entire, separate recap to detail exactly how horrible their treatment of him has been and how worrying it is that the story continues to frame this behavior as not just acceptable, but the actions of heroes. Suffice to say, if you have friends who seem nice on the daily but use you as a punching bag whenever they need an outlet? Do me a favor and get far, far away from them.

In the interests of moving on, another thing we didn’t get was any mention of Raven. A few friends theorized that last volume’s end credits scene (where Tai spots Raven using his portal) might finally come into play, but no such luck. More importantly to my mind, Yang still hasn’t said anything about Raven being the Spring Maiden, so that continues to be a secret she keeps while heaping more judgement on Ozpin. We’ll get to that later.

We didn’t see that true reconciliation teased in the last shot of the opening. Ruby never fought grimm with arms like those, let alone in a sewer tunnel… even though one was right there at the farm. I’m honestly starting to believe what others are saying about whole episodes being cut to make time for GenLock. Something happened this volume because the writing took one hell of a nosedive. It’s not just that I don’t agree with the messages the show is expressing, it’s that we have dangling threads, confusing “twists,” and what honestly feels like half-assed storytelling. Like they knew they had to complete the volume but just weren’t feeling motivated, so they chucked together something shoddy and left it at that.

(We also didn’t get to hear what Ruby bought them all at the gift shop. I realize this is a comparatively tiny thing, but to my mind it was a missed opportunity. They could have bookended the premiere and the finale, revealed that tiny mystery, told us something about Ruby based on the gifts she chose—the fandom keeps complaining that she’s one-dimensional—and if she’d picked up something for Ozpin at the time, that would have been an easy moment to have the group start reflecting on their behavior, a reminder that just a few days ago he was an important member of their team. Obviously I doubt the gifts survived the train crash, but there’s no reason why Ruby couldn’t tell them about it; a quiet moment before they reach Atlas. Like the shorter season length though, this episode was short for a finale. We were barely given enough time for the plot, let alone any reflection.)

For now though, let’s dive into the actual episode. We open on a field where an airship lands, Neo transforming as she steps out. That really is a powerful semblance. She can create copies of herself, disguise herself, and (as we’ll see in just a moment), disguise a whole freaking airship too. Granted, that last one seems to take some effort, but as this finale will inform us later, it doesn’t really matter how tired you are. If the plot needs you to do a thing with your semblance, you’ll manage it. Somehow.

Cinder arrives in a new outfit as well and, like Neo’s, it’s pretty damn skimpy? I haven’t bothered to bring this up before because on the whole RT writes it’s mostly female cast very well, but considering how many other criticisms I’ve got today, why not chuck out one more. Meaning, why do these designs continually have to promote sexiness over practicality? Weiss, Nora, and Ruby all fight in skirts—hastily justified as “combat skirts”—and at least half the women on this show fight in heels. Yang sports short-shorts. Both she and Blake have bare midriffs. Now Neo is in a top that looks like it’s held up by a prayer and Cinder is sporting lingerie-like knee highs. There’s just no reason to design characters like this, especially when a good chunk of your cast is made up of teens. Cinder says herself that Neo will soon need snow boots. Just dress her appropriately for the weather from the start. You know, like how we didn’t get with Team RWBY while traveling through a kingdom filled with snow. Apparently Weiss wearing a scarf is enough to combat hypothermia for the whole team.

And yes, I realize costume changes require new models to be made, but that’s precisely why you should design your fighters as fighters from the start. You’re battling giant monsters? No one would wear heels. Or skirts. Or expose their midriff. It seems pretty convenient that aura supposedly protects them, eliminating the need for armor, and yet now it’s only our most masculine character—Jaune—who still bothers to wear it. Neo and Cinder are just the most recent examples of, “Why the hell would you wear that to a fight?”

Well, maybe these two will freeze to death before they ever reach the group… They’re heading to Solitas too and though they didn’t do anything in this scene besides reveal new and impractical clothing, I was more interested in their brief discussion than I was in the entirety of RWBYJNR’s fight. At least I’m comfortable in how I feel about Neo and Cinder. They’re bad guys. They’re gonna do bad things that the story frames as bad. They’re usually fun to watch. I don’t get frustrated and confused whenever they come on screen nowadays.

Cinder says, “Someone once asked me if I believe in destiny…and I’m happy to say I still do” as we get a final shot of them planning their nefarious deeds. We’re getting a lot of references to Pyrrha this volume—this, the statue, Ruby’s memories later—and taken on its own that’s fantastic. In a season though where Pyrrha’s death is subtly ‘justifying’ the group’s awful behavior and acting as a reminder to the fandom for why they unjustly hate Ozpin? Ehh…

We close on the villains and open on our “heroes” with rousing music to signal the upcoming battle, which… isn’t really a battle at all. The Leviathan is steadily approaching Argus and the Atlas personnel are calling for Cordovin. She’s still stuck, yelling about how “This is your fault!”

And it is. However, once again Cordovin’s exaggerated attitude makes it easy to ignore the fact that she’s right. She’s racist! She’s arrogant! She’s screaming and sounds like a child! Clearly our group is the mature ones here. Look at how calmly Ruby faces her down in contrast… It reminds me of how people (particularly women) are told that they’re being “Too emotional” in this conversation and therefore all the points they’ve made are somehow invalid. Of course Cordovin is emotional. A group of kids just lied to her, stole from her, started a battle against her, and destroyed her mech right when her city is about to be overrun by grimm. I’d be screaming in frustration too.

Though of course, most don’t view it that way. I agree with what others have pointed out, that if we’d been given a calmer authority figure saying the exact same things—No you can’t go into Atlas. Why would I let anyone other than Weiss cross a closed border?—it would have been easier to see exactly how horrible the group’s actions are here. As it is, Cordovin’s personality acts as a distraction. One more way to present the group as heroic when they’re anything but.

Yang and Blake arrive on the scene, wanting to know what the hell is going on. Yang asks, “Is that a giant grimm?” and Weiss responds, “Yes…and we just ruined the only thing capable of stopping it.”

That’s an admission of facts, not necessarily an admission of guilt. The group acknowledges that they ruined the one defense capable of taking out a grimm of that size, but as we’ll see, there’s no regret attached to doing that in the first place. It’s just summarizing the situation for Blake and Yang.

Granted, we get a moment where Ruby looks worried/potentially sad as they fly away from Cordovin, but what does that mean here? Is she sad about what she’s done? Or just worried about this new situation? Their actions have been so extreme that the story can’t afford to be vague about the characters’ emotions here. Plenty of people will (and are free) to read this moment as Ruby experiencing fierce regret at her choices the last few hours… but it’s just as easy to attribute her expressions to fear about the coming battle. I’m not inclined to give these characters the benefit of the doubt here. They haven’t earned it.

Regardless, we cut to the airship where apparently Yang and Blake have already told everyone about Adam. That was not the sort of thing that should have happened off screen. By all means, be practical. There’s no time for a long-winded conversation with the Leviathan bearing down on Argus, so have Yang announce that they’re okay, yes something happened, we’ll explain things later. Now you’ve established that this very important information will be conveyed either on the airship later, or at the beginning of volume 7.

What a waste. This is the end of a villain we’ve had since the Black Trailer—the first time our protagonists have killed a fellow human being—and that admission is regulated to the 30 seconds it takes to fly from Cordovin to the middle of the fight. Ruby hugs Blake and tells her she’s safe, but that’s it. That’s currently the extent of the team’s reaction to this huge revelation and like JNR learning about Salem, the audience has no idea what sort of details they received. Do they just know Adam died in the fight or that they deliberately killed him? Did Weiss hear about the brand? We don’t know. Hopefully this conversation is given more weight in volume 7, but given what else we’ve seen lately, I’m not counting on it.

Maria then interrupts with one of the most jaw-dropping lines of the episode: “I suppose I have to be the bad guy and say it, but getting the lamp to Atlas is still our top priority.”

Are we for real right now? Where was this calm, level-headed, pragmatic Maria when she was pissing off Cordovin with cashews? Or cheering at Ruby rejecting all adults? Now she starts trying to think rationally? But of course, when she does stop her manic cackling it’s to suggest something horrific. Yes, Maria. It does make you a bad guy to want to abandon a city to the grimm you brought here. She realizes that everyone is dead if they leave, right? That without the mech or silver eyes Argus has no decent way of stopping that Leviathan? Maria is meant to be the Grimm Reaper, the greatest huntress of her generation, and the writers think it’s appropriate to not only have her encouraging a bunch of kids to recklessly commit treason, but then condemn a whole city to probable death for their mistakes?

No, the relic is not the top priority. The relic is a side mission. The top priority has always and will always be protecting humanity. At least Yang, Blake, and Weiss realize this. They say firmly that they’re not leaving and Ruby gives a little shrug like, ‘Guess we’re not leaving then.’

(They really like having Ruby treat her mistakes as jokes, don’t they?)

So Ruby announces she has an idea, the one the whole fandom saw coming a mile away, and the next second Qrow says, “Eyes up, everybody” because they’ve reached the Leviathan. Ha. Get it? Eyes up?

Okay. I’m done lol.

We get shots of the terrified Argus population, including Terra and Saphron.

Ruby asks Ren and Jaune to mask the ship which, reminder, they shouldn’t be able to do. Ren maybe, but Jaune just used all his aura to protect himself and Nora from getting splattered by Cordovin’s arm. Then he was thrown into a boulder for good measure. Last episode he couldn’t even stand without hanging off of his teammates. Now we get exactly what I was afraid we would: the plot needs someone to Do A Thing so aura burnout is conveniently forgotten. Jaune gives a confident smile. Of course he can boost Ren’s semblance and cover an entire airship!

Keep in mind that we just saw Neo dropping in exhaustion after a second of using her semblance on a whole ship. Granted, her ship is bigger, but she’s also presumably at full strength right now. If we were bothering to follow the rules established by this world, I highly doubt Jaune would have been able to pull this off.

Meanwhile the Leviathan has easily taken out Argus’s first barrier. “It tore straight through…” Oscar whispers, reminding me that he hasn’t had many encounters with grimm. If I remember correctly he mentioned to Ruby that there was an occasional one on the farm (as expected), but they must have been pretty weak if an untrained kid can take them out with farm equipment. Oscar then goes straight to Haven, battles people at the Academy, gets on that train where he fought some manticores, but then he didn’t get to see the Apathy for himself. This seems to be one of the first times Oscar is seeing grimm at all, let alone one this deadly. No wonder he sounds shocked.

With the shield destroyed in an instant the Atlas personnel start giving the order to evacuate… when Ruby interrupts them. No worries, fine people. I have a plan! Wait, why should we trust you? “I’m a huntress.”

No you’re not, Ruby. Literally and symbolically, you are not currently a huntress. Ignoring for a moment all the stunts you just pulled, undermining everything a huntress is meant to uphold, that is a formal position. It’s a title that embodies great power in this world and you achieve that title by studying four years and graduating from an academy. You don’t get to call yourself a college graduate because you did one year and then studied on your own. Same with being a doctor, or a lawyer, or literally any titled position. Ruby (in continuing with the theme of this volume) is lying to that Atlesian soldier. She’s misrepresenting herself, claiming she’s something other than what she actually is: a half-trained teen with a current chip on her shoulder.

This is also another moment where she ignores Qrow when he yells for her to stop. The issue isn’t about who’s right here—whether Ruby should tell the others about her plan or not—but that Ruby is consistently ignoring everyone around her to charge forward with whatever plan she personally thinks is best. Qrow told her not to attack the Atlas military… look what happened. Qrow told her not to go stare down Cordovin’s missiles and try to make an impossible shot… look what happened. Qrow told her not to stubbornly stand her ground against a mech when the rest of her team is beaten and exhausted, and though Ruby survives, it’s only by the will of Plot Armor. She leapt into a freaking cannon. She knocked herself out. You’d think after all this Ruby would at least pause a moment to give Qrow the time of day.

It ultimately doesn’t matter though because their ship is still flagged as hostile. Atlas isn’t going to help them on what clearly looks like a suicide mission. We get a close up of Ruby daring to do what no one else can or will. “Fine… we’ll do it alone if we have to.”

…which is precisely the problem. Atlas backing off might feel like a consequence—Oh no! Their actions lost them their backup!—but all it does is get the extras out of the way (who just happen to be adults) so we can more easily focus on the protagonists (who just happen to be teens). It’s a reward. They don’t actually need the airships here, as the group is about to demonstrate, so this ‘consequence’ is absolutely meaningless. It would be something entirely different if, say, the story actually framed the soldiers as necessary to distract the Leviathan and Ruby had to admit her faults, begging them to help despite her mistakes; if the story made it clear that teamwork was a necessity. But there’s nothing like that. This is meant to read as the hero’s crowning moment.

Also, as an aside, why in the world would Ruby tell them to wait on the rest of their evacuation? What if—a wild thought here—something went wrong? Like literally every plan you’ve ever come up with? Isn’t it better to get people to safety while you try out your idea, just in case it all falls to pieces? This is just one more moment of Ruby’s overconfidence putting others at risk. She’s endangered her team, herself, and an entire city this volume… and has learned precisely nothing from it.

But we’ll come to that. Right now Ren masks the airship’s approach, conveniently keeping it up just long enough for them to reach the Leviathan, and then he’s out. They still didn’t make it in time though. The Leviathan sends out another stream of fire that takes out the second shield and hits the top of a tower in Argus. Needing to get closer, Yang and Nora distract the Leviathan while Ruby rides in on one of Weiss’ summoned lancers. I did appreciate Blake briefly supporting Weiss as she works to keep her semblance up. Whatever else, this volume has been good about brief, non-partner interactions.

We hear Ruby encouraging herself as she flies in and then she chucks her communicator into the water to concentrate. I thought something would come of that? Why bother having Yang interrupt her if there wasn’t a serious issue (it takes another long moment for the Leviathan to turn on Ruby) and why full on get rid of the communicator if that choice wasn’t going to come into play later? Eh, whatever. Far from the first time we’ve had setups that go absolutely nowhere. This volume is full of them.

So Ruby does as Maria taught her: cycling through memories of her family and friends, trying to drum up that fierce desire to protect them.

I did appreciate that Oscar, Qrow, and Maria get brief appearances… but again, the one team member who isn’t shown is Ozpin. Apparently Ruby now hates him to the point where he’s not even a part of her very generalized thoughts about who she wants to protect. I mean she met Maria three days ago and the woman now means more to her, apparently.

(For the record, I say this because Ruby knew Ozpin primarily in his headmaster form and is drawing largely from volume 1-3 material. We might have seen him in the new engine, easily. The shot of Oscar we’re given is also the one from the training room where Ozpin didn’t speak until Ruby left. Alongside Ozpin’s absence this volume, that’s the closest we’ve ever seen Oscar as only Oscar. That choice says a lot in my opinion.)

Eventually Ruby’s memories start to segue into darker thoughts and… okay. I’m confused now. Why is thinking about bad memories the thing that doesn’t let the silver eyes work? Not only were those moments where fierce protection would be at its strongest, but Ruby has only ever been in horrible situations when her eyes went off: Watching Pyrrha die, watching Jaune about to be killed, watching Blake about to kick it via Apathy. You’re telling me that during those times Ruby somehow thought about bright and happy things, not the horror of the fact that her friends were in the process of being murdered? If anything, those flashes of Yang without her arm or Penny cut into pieces should be the very thing that does set her eyes off.

Instead they fail. Ruby opens her eyes to find the Leviathan turning her way and then, as a friend of mine pointed out, she gasps out a “What?” and looks down at the relic.

No. That relic has very conveniently done nothing the entire time the group was trekking through the woods, staying at an abandoned farm, driving who knows how far, and running around a new city. You’re not going to tell me now that suddenly it’s the cause of the Leviathan turning away from people currently attacking it. Either the relic’s draw is strong enough that Oscar should have been in trouble on the train, or it’s not strong enough to act as a justification here. The relic is the new Qrow’s semblance: turning off and on when the story wills it.

In a panic Ruby yells for Jinn, which is less the “clever” choice Jinn says it is and more a potentially clever gamble. The last time they used Jinn every creature in her vicinity remained active. Granted, all those creatures were human or faunus then, but Ruby wouldn’t know if she would freeze the grimm as well. Regardless, her gamble pays off (because of course it does) and we get another example of how the protagonists are currently super special people who can never do any wrong.

Jinn: “You do not seek knowledge, but just this once I will give it freely…I will not allow you to use me without a question again.”

Why? That’s the question you have to ask for all your characters’ decision. Why are they doing this? What’s their motivation? Jinn provides none. She has no reason to let Ruby off the hook for summoning her without a question, especially since she frames that as another bad choice that she’ll (somehow?) punish Ruby for if she does it again. But this time, once again, our protagonist is let off the hook, purely because she’s the protagonist.

With this very generous second chance Ruby re-shuts her eyes, thinks only of the good times, including a memory of Summer Rose. The fandom has been waiting a long time to see her outside of a covered photograph.

Ruby manages to activate her silver eyes. It works—mostly.

I mentioned previously how the show needs to introduce some downside to the silver eyes so that Ruby isn’t suddenly over powered against every grimm from here on out. This is a downside… but an odd one. The grimm turned to stone, but not all the way? Sort of just a stone encasing that it partly manages to break out of? Okay. I mean that works, but it’s a pretty easy downside to overcome. The grimm is still stopped in its tracks, giving the others plenty of time to take it out.

And, as always, pay attention to how it’s all framed. Despite not working exactly as she intended, this is meant to be a moment of victory for Ruby. She’s succeeded in her trial by fire. She’s single-handedly saved all of Argus. The music is rising, the people are cheering, people who have no idea what silver eyes are and will now start up legends about this girl. Who was the huntress with the magic-like power none of us understand? Ruby Rose. The girl who stood toe-to-toe against a Leviathan grimm and won.

This would indeed be a wonderful moment if it weren’t Ruby’s fault the grimm was there in the first place. Like her own claims of “I’m a huntress,” this moment misrepresents Ruby to the people. No one is going to learn that she’s the one who endangered them, only that she’s the one who came to the rescue. She’s fixing her own mistake and then allowing that to stand as a heroic act.

I was so looking forward to Ruby learning to wield her silver eyes. Not like this though.

Cordovin arrives with her pinned arm gone, ready to finish taking out the Leviathan, and she’s suddenly stupidly cheerful about it. Again, characters need motivations. If their outlook on a situation changes we need to see why that happened, especially when moving from such extremes. In a matter of minutes Cordovin went from shrieking at the group to not just sunnily helping them—which is a practical consideration. As she herself says, “I was sworn to protect the people”—but also letting them go.

….there is no reason to let them go. None. It goes against Cordovin’s entire characterization, the logic of the situation, and nothing has happened in the last few minutes to change her mind. This is the story at its laziest: “We don’t have a reason for Cordovin to let them go. She’s just gonna. Because they’re heroes.”

During this conversation we get an “I’m sorry” from Ruby and that’s admittedly something, but like Weiss’ comment about destroying the mech or Ruby’s worried looks, what is she apologizing for? Because she doesn’t seem very contrite right now. The framing isn’t telling us Ruby has anything to be ashamed of. She’s the star in this moment. So that ‘I’m sorry’ feels less like an admission of wrong doing and more, ‘I’m sorry I had to attack you and that it almost got everyone killed. But I absolutely had to. No doubt. So I guess I’m only sorry that fate screwed us over. It’s not like I had a hand in this mess or anything.’

All of which is to say: there are no consequences. None. Zip. Nada. No one in Argus died (despite the fact that all those flying grimm apparently bypassed the mass of terrified people to go battle with the airships on the opposite side of the Leviathan??), no one was arrested, no Ironwood or Winter, no Ozpin coming to their rescue, no problems with aura, the mech still manages to fight, the airship still manages to fly, no one was even reprimanded for their behavior. This volume we have seen the group betray a man they were demanding trust from, steal a secret they knew nothing about, force him to relive thousands of years of trauma while taking in the personal history that was never theirs to see, verbally and physically assault him to the point where he has to remove himself from their presence, they repeat that on an innocent kid days later, do absolutely nothing to make up for that, show no remorse for their actions, steal military property, plotted to mess with one of the few remaining relay towers the whole world depends on, beat up Atlas personnel, chucked them out of a plane, started and continued a fight with a special operative that endangered an entire city of people, destroyed a city’s primary defense, risked straining kingdom relations, nearly got friends killed with these foolish stunts ….and nothing. Not a single consequence, punishment, or reprimand. RT set up a situation where the group makes horrific mistakes and then had them learn nothing from them. Far from it. They’re rewarded, telling the audience that provided you have power—be it physical strength, access to resources, or the knowledge of a super secret mission—you can do whatever you want. There is no single stupid, illegal, dangerous, or callous thing you can do that isn’t ‘justified’ with, “Well I literally could do it, so I guess that means I’m allowed to do it, right?” Our title, “Our Way,” definitely embodies the morals we’re given this season.

I’m honestly disgusted with this volume. Just as a piece of media. This isn’t a story where we’re following anti-heroes and are well aware that they’re committing horrible deeds. This is a story about traditional heroes who are now using anti-hero means, something the story has just straight up ignored. I really didn’t think RT would take things this far… but here we are. This is apparently our group now and I personally think they’re awful.

And ugh, there’s still more of this episode. We cut to the group flying that night and Maria comments that “We should have just enough fuel to make it.” Wow you… literally didn’t think anything through, huh? No one even bothered to find out if they’d have enough fuel to not crash land in the ocean halfway there. Wonderful.

We get another entirely illogical conversation between Qrow and Ruby. He tells her she, “Did good out there today, kid” despite the fact that Qrow was consistently (and correctly) trying to get her to not do the things she was doing. Is it too much to ask for Qrow to have a firm and honest conversation about her making reckless decisions instead of more unearned platitudes? And then Qrow lowers his bottle which… what? Alcoholism doesn’t work like that. Much more importantly, no one has tackled his drinking this season. Or the reasons he was drinking in the first place. Literally, Qrow’s semblance, his place in the war, Ozpin’s secret, none of it has been addressed. He has no reason to suddenly put aside his flask like he’s actually learned something. Does RT think we’re going to just imagine scenes that never actually happened?

(I mean, that’s what fic is for, but that’s… fic. The canon should at least be attempting to hit a higher bar. This is their job, not an unpaid hobby done late at night when you’re exhausted after your own full day of work.)

Qrow and Maria also have a conversation about how he was there to “Catch them when they fell. Literally, if I recall,” implying, again, something that didn’t happen. Yes, Qrow literally caught Ruby when she fell from the cannon, but that line is meant primarily in the metaphorical sense: You were there to support them, keep them from doing something stupid, steering them back to the right path, etc. That’s what Qrow tried to do, but Ruby consistently ignored him.

This is all such a mess. Though we do get some nice shots of Blake and Yang sitting together—lots of hand-holding now—and Weiss comments that she’s glad Yang was there for Blake. Yang corrects that they were there for each other, confirming the lesson they learned off screen at some point.

A conversation starts up once again painting Ruby’s recklessness as awesome heroics. Among her clique she’s all bashful now, no more arrogance when there aren’t outsiders to push back against, and Ruby tries to foster attention off on Oscar. He corrects them about landing the airship… he didn’t actually do that himself.

Oscar: “I didn’t land the ship on my own.”

We get a flashback to him panicking as the ship crashes, but this time we hear Ozpin saying, “Stay calm. It’s going to be okay.” Back in the present Nora immediately freaks out, “He took control?!” and Oscar corrects her with no, he helped guide me.

Let’s unpack this a bit. First of all Ozpin would have been 100% justified in taking control, just like he was justified in taking control at Haven when Oscar was going to get them killed by stubbornly insisting that he fight Hazel. Like everything else in this volume, each situation has its own context. Just saying, “Ozpin took control of Oscar without permission” sounds bad, until you bother to acknowledge that dying is kinda worse. It’s like if I see a 14yo boy running towards a road an I yank him backwards. Technically I just took away his agency—I haven’t allowed him to keep running forward when he wanted to—but I did it so he wouldn’t get hit by that car. If Ozpin had taken control to keep three team members, including everyone’s precious leader, from dying a horrible death via airship crash… that’s a good thing.

But he didn’t. Even now, even after everything, Ozpin is so careful to give people as much choice as he can. He assessed the situation and decided that he could guide Oscar without taking away the use of his body, the sort of consideration most people wouldn’t even bother with during a time of crisis. And think about those lines. “Stay calm. It’s going to be okay.” The last time Oscar spoke to Ozpin he was forcefully stealing the means to allow the rest of the group to betray him. Now here Ozpin is, not angry, just endlessly reassuring.

Then he leaves again. Everyone realizes Ozpin is still doing his best to give everyone what they supposedly want, right? I mentioned ages back that the group wants a contradiction, to have Ozpin fix their problems without having to deal with Ozpin as a person, and now he’s managed that. He comes in, saves their lives, then leaves so no one has to deal with the apparent horror of speaking to him. His level of selflessness is off the charts and it astounds me that anyone thinks this man is a cruel, manipulative puppet master.

…and then there’s Yang.

Yang: “Does that mean he’s been watching us this whole time?!”

Oh yeah. I don’t like Yang much nowadays. I forgot because the last couple of episodes the show isolated Yang with Blake. She’s good with Blake because she actually likes Blake and is probably in love with her. But put Yang with someone who isn’t willing to enable her misplaced anger (Maria, Ozpin) and suddenly she’s not a very kind person anymore. Like the rest of the group right now, Yang’s basic, human empathy doesn’t extend beyond the confines of their team.

Plus, what does that accusation even mean? She makes him sound like some sort of peeping tom and not the leader she was following three days ago. Yang realizes, right, that Ozpin isn’t allowed a body of his own? That he’s connected to Oscar? That anything Oscar sees Ozpin automatically sees too? There were admittedly questions about whether Ozpin was connected to the outside world while locked that deep in Oscar’s head, but Yang makes it sound like he physically left and then started stalking the group without their permission. She makes him sound like Adam.

I really can’t with this group right now. Man arrives to save the lives of the people who betrayed/assaulted him and their reaction is basically, “How dare you even look at us?” The worst part is, you know a huge chunk of the fandom is going to agree. No matter what Ozpin does, even literally saving our title character’s life, it’s somehow twisted into an act of manipulative cruelty.

Also gotta love that Qrow is sitting right there and apparently doesn’t care about this conversation. He only interrupts with a smile to tell them they’re in Atlas.

Which is, admittedly, gorgeous as hell. I do like these shots a great deal.

The only thing that ruins the view is the fleet of airships above, stationed like they’re expecting a battle. This seems to connect to the army we see Salem building in the post credits scene… but how in the world does Atlas know about something like that? Did Ironwood hear something and come up with an excuse to scramble the fighters? Or are they prepping for something else entirely? An attack from another kingdom?

Regardless, we end on one of the personnel telling the group, “Welcome home.”

After the credits we see Emerald and Mercury utterly horrified by something below. We pan down to see Salem creating grimm from the pool… and then making them grow wings. My first thought was, “That guerrilla is going to need a much bigger wingspan to accommodate his weight.” My second thought was, “Oh. Flying monkeys.” That should tell you something about what my brain considers a priority.

Hazel comes in and reminds Mercury and Emerald of an old saying: “If you want something done right, do it yourself.” That’s admittedly unexpected. Looks like after hearing that Ozpin reincarnated and ruined her plans for the Spring relic, Salem has decided to get her own hands dirty for once. I hope we get to hear more explanations for this because she’s apparently kept to the sidelines for generations and now, pretty randomly, decides to announce her presence to the world by leading an army? Who knows. It wouldn’t make less sense than anything else RWBY has given us lately.

And that’s it! We’re done! Hallelujah I need a break. Well, pseudo-break. I still intend to upload my other recaps to tumblr, dive back into our older episodes, and there are still asks to answer. So meta-ing is far from over, but it’ll be less intense than 4000+ words every Saturday lol.

Thank you all so much for reading. I’d sill be writing these with an audience of one (me), but it’s way better when there are others as well. So kudos to you all—and happy hiatus!

Other Details of Note

Neo is fully wearing Roman’s hat now and Cinder canonically wears Louboutin heels lol.

A bit of an odd note, but Cordovin’s repetitive screams about “This is your fault” almost sound painful. Like she’s physically in pain. Obviously that’s not the case in any literal manner, but there’s something horrible about watching the group destroy a part of the mechanical body she’s currently inhabiting and then just abandoning her, watching as she tires and fails to move. I really can’t emphasize enough how callous this group has become to anyone not in Team RWBY or JNR.

I enjoyed the red of the Leviathan glowing under the water as it moved. Nice touch.

“Never get used to that view,” Maria says, once again framing her eyes only as a joke and never a legit issue when it presumably would be.

Yang has ditched the casing on her arm after Adam’s attack. Maybe she and Blake can go arm/weapon shopping together.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #RWBY Recaps #mymetas

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helenarlett-rex · 4 years

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Goosebumps Review #10

Continuing to read all those books I somehow never got around to as a kid...

(Spoilers)

One Day At Horrorland

Goosebumps (original series) #16

This was another one where I had seen the TV episode years back so I thought I already knew the story, but the book turned out to be a little different than the show. The biggest difference being that the book actually didn’t suck.

Was it a great Goosebumps book? Mmm... debatable... But at least it wasn’t a bad Goosebumps book.

The story centers around the Morris family, namely Lizzy, who serves as our point of view character... but there is also her younger brother, Luke, a somewhat annoying little brat who can’t stop screaming about special affects and enjoys pinching and punching people... Luke’s friend, Clay, the nerdy scaredy cat... Their father, who is constantly pissed off and yelling at everyone... and their mother, who tries to play the calm voice of reason. They are on vacation, lost in the middle of the desert as they try to find Zoo Gardens, which is a totally royalty free theme park that totally isn’t Busch Gardens at all... And their dad must be even worse than I am with directions if they are lost in the desert because there are only two Busch Gardens that I know of and they are in Florida and Virginia... Neither of which have deserts...

So it should be no shock to anyone that they don’t find Busch- I mean, Zoo Gardens... Instead they find a theme park they have never heard of before by the name of Horrorland. So they decide, why not? And then their car explodes.

No kidding. They don’t even make it across the parking lot before their car explodes behind them. That... kind of came out of nowhere. And seems like poor planning on the part of the monsters. I get that you don’t want them leaving, but why would you blow their car up right then and there? All you are doing is putting them on edge. It seems like you wouldn’t want your victims to be on guard before they are even in the park...

Although I guess it does get the family to split up right away, as the kids go off to enjoy the park, because what do they care if their car just exploded? Those are adult problems... While the parents go off to find a phone so they can call the police.

The park is naturally full of horror themed attractions. The Doom Slide, The Bat Barn, The Coffin Cruise, Werewolf Village, roller coasters that have out of order signs on them but are still letting people on, the only bungee jump without a cord (which I’m pretty sure is just called jumping to your death), a swimming hole full of alligators, the house of mirrors... No real horror spin on the house of mirrors. It doesn’t even have a horror themed name. It’s just a house of mirrors... Yeah, the walls try to close in on them once they are inside, but they didn’t know that was going to happen going in. So from the outside it’s just a totally out of place attraction with no effort put in to make it fit in with the rest of the park.

All of the rides have some kind of gimmick where it seems like it’s dangerous and intended to kill them, but then they come out the other side just fine and wondering if it was real or not. This is helped by the fact that a lot of the horror is unseen. They think they feel bats attacking them in the Bat Barn, but it’s too dark to see anything. They think they feel spiders crawling all over them on the Coffin Cruise but it’s too dark to see anything. They think they are sliding way too fast on the Doom Slide but it’s too dark to... Man... Most of the rides in Horrorland are done in the dark...

There are also a lot of Horrorland Horrors walking around the park. Those are the monsters that run the place. Although the kids just think they are people in costumes. They pretty much just wander around the park being dicks towards the kids. Sometimes it’s kind of funny. Like when the kids ask one monster woman if anyone has ever died in the park before and she tells them, “Only once.”

“You mean one person died here before?”

“No... I mean they only died here once. No one dies twice...”

Other times they are just flat out mean. Like telling the kids that their parents left and abandoned them there. But then, they are monsters... Being mean and scaring kids is kind of their job.

There were also two other things that kept popping up again and again, but only one of them ever came into play. The book makes a point to draw attention to the fact that every time they see other families in the park the children are always crying, and it makes a point to draw attention to the fact that they keep passing signs that say “No pinching.”

The book stays interesting and amusing the whole way through, but it doesn’t really get to the actual threat until the last few chapters. That’s when things really start to pick up. When all the monsters corner them while they are trying to find a way out of the park and tell them, surprise! You’re on a hidden camera show! Now this was the twist ending in the TV episode too, and I always thought it was kind of stupid. Yeah, we are real monsters... but this park is just a hidden camera show where we scare you for fun and other monsters watch it on TV.

Uhh... Okay...

But the book, interestingly enough, doesn’t end on that note. Instead the monsters tell them they have just won a new car to replace the one that exploded, and then they use that to lure the whole family into a monster fight pit where tons of monsters pile in and actually try to kill the family. We get an actual fight scene in a Goosebumps book where this poor family has to fight against a whole horde of weird creatures, including furry snakes... The book mentions the furry snakes a lot...

By the end the family is actually fairly bloodied but manages to survive. So the monsters congratulate them for winning the game, then tries to throw them into a purple tar pit... And this is where the no pinching sign comes into play. Through a bit of writing that was probably a bit more clever than I expect out of a Goosebumps book, Lizzy figures out the meaning of the no pinching signs and starts pinching the monsters. Which actually works... Because the monsters are living balloons and when you pinch them they deflate.

Hey... I did say calling this one a good book was debatable... So the family pinches their way out of the park, they steal a bus and drive back home, we get a silly ending that’s not even worth talking about, then end.

Honestly, I liked it, but I really wish the no pinching sign had been something else. The whole time I kept thinking they were asleep and trapped in a dream, and the reason the monsters insisted on no pinching, was because they didn’t want anyone to pinch themselves and wake up. Honestly, as silly as that is, I still feel like it would have been a better ending than living balloon animals. And what was with all the crying children. The book told me like 5 different times that any time they passed another family the kids were all crying. What was the point of telling me that so many times and then doing nothing with it?

At least give me a scene where they talk to one of the crying kids and we learn that the reason they are crying is because they have figured out what it actually going on. Maybe the kids are crying because they know that when they try to leave the monsters are going to kill them so the only way to survive is to stay in the park forever and continue being scared for the monsters’ amusement. That would have actually been a kind of scary detail. At the very least it would have been better than nothing, which is what we go...

But now that I’ve read this one... Ehh... That’s my feelings on the matter. I enjoyed it, but it’s still kind of ehh... I’m not seeing what is so great about this that it deserves its own series but Fever Swamp doesn’t.

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lillaxtrigger · 5 years

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Faded land: Chapter 9

The blistering sun bakes down upon the wastelands from the clear blue skies as Clara climbs up a towering incline. With most of her journey having been taken on foot upon countless miles this past month, she wonders how her legs haven’t given out by now. With very little breath to spare, she wishes for something that can get her through the wastelands faster along with refreshing her supplies, like a vehicle of some sorts, hopefully something with good mileage and air conditioning. Anything would work really, no matter how daft the concept might allude. Managing to drag herself atop the steep hill, she rises from the cracked grounds to lay her sites upon the city before her.

Columbus. From her point of view she notices something odd about the buildings in the city. There weren’t really as many of them broken as she anticipated. Sure, there were the city’s fair share of destroyed establishments, but for the most part, Columbus seemed to be normal. Even a couple of the sky scrapers looked not a day old. Looking over the entirety of Columbus, her hunger pushes her towards entering the city.

She walks to town, finding the streets below her feet to be free of cracks. The roads beside her looking to be just as repaired. Even the dirt looks to be gradually be supporting grass and tree saplings as she enters. The scientist then spots something dash along the corner of her eye and approaches to investigate. Around the corner, she finds people walking along the pavement streets, not overcrowded or in disarray like the last city she visited. Boy was that a cluster fuck. No, what really catches her attention was what the people traveling along the roads were traversing with. Animals, not just any animals, mutant beasts of all shapes and sizes the people were riding as steeds. Most of them were fused chimera’s of two or more animals. Seeing this network of traveling mutants racing along the roads both astonishes and overwhelms the scientist. Remembering her recent encounter with mutated animal life, she proceeds with cation.

As Clara slowly traverses through the patched up streets, she looks overhead to witness several people hanging around the buildings via ropes and sashes being supported by mutant beasts atop the roofs, patching and repairing any damages they’ve sustained. It seems like these people are taking an active effort to fix their city rather than let it rot. Good on them. Before she could progress gazing upon the working repair committee and their valiant efforts, Clara feels her stomach rumble out in utter protest. The hunger being painful enough to make her groan aloud. One wayward repair man hears the young ladies cries of hunger from below and slides down, asking her: “What’s the matter, little lady? Ya feel sick?” “So hungry…Haven’t eaten in days...” “Oh...Well, there’s a soup kitchen right around the corner. Sure they’ll be able to serve ya some grub.” the worker tells her, pointing over towards the corner behind him. “Here, let me take ya over-”. He turns back to find the girl had seemingly vanished. Thought confused, he shrugs off the affair and climbs back up to his patch job repairs.

A bowl of beef stew steams before Clara as she sits upon one of the tables beside a couple of unfortunate souls. She lifts up a spoonful of the soup with a piece of hearty potato’s to inspect for any odd discoloration or shape. Can’t be two careful after all, not after the incident on that weird as hell farm. Hmm...Looks okay. Color a normal shade of blonde. Sharp cut, but overall natural. She takes a light sip of the meaty juices that the mixture was submerged in. Yep. This is normal ass beef stew. Tasty ass stew too. So tasty in fact, that she can’t help but take the bowl and loudly scarf the stew down her empty gullet. Such a rather unpleasant display makes the people sitting beside her scoot away, not wanting any of the scientists flying drips to land into their soup. Finishing the stew, she puts down the bowl to take in a deep breathe and blow out a hearty sigh. “Ahh. That’s the good stuff.”

She returns the bowl back to a nearby dish rack, wondering to herself: “Now, what to do about food.” Just then, a colorful poster depicting a man riding atop a mutant steed like the ones she saw outside draws her attention. Under the rider was a description pertaining to an events of sorts relating to said picture. “Come ride in the annual Columbus mutant steed race. Winners shall receive a lifetime supply of canned goods for there spoils. Sign ups is at the Magmor Ranch…Hmm...”

Somewhere in the city, Clara arrives upon a wide fenced ranch. The middle of this giant fresh cut field is fitted with a practice track, riders racing through the dirt roads upon their mutant animal steeds. Though the doubt of mutated animals being safe to touch has shortly been buried, the site of them still freaks her out quite a smidge. A small phobia she’ll have to overcome quickly if she wants to participate. Looking about, she finds a white building besides the fenced off racetrack and enters.

Within, she finds a crowd of people standing about in the lobby, mingling to one another. At the end of the hall, she finds a clipboard with a bunch of names scribbled upon a grid sheet of paper. Assuming its the sign up sheet, she takes the pen on the side and tries to sign her name, but there was a small problem. Nearly all of the positions have been filled, counting nearly 30 people. She wonders if there’s even any room left on the paper to sign. But at the very bottom, she spots a single empty slot. Good thing she got here just in time, or she might have been outta luck. Without a single moment to hesitate, she quickly signs her name within the square slot. What now, she ponders. Will she be provided with a steed of her own? What kind of freak of nature will she have to mount? Questions that begin to swell as she looks about for any kind of official help on the matter.

The scientist then spots a man over a counter filing paper work. An employee? She swiftly approaches the counter and grabs the attention of the office worker. “E-Excuse me.” she utters. The man looks over the counter and finds Clara awaiting his attention. “Hello, miss. What can I do ya for?”. “Um, I just entered in the races and was wondering if there were any animals left for me to ride?”. “Ehh...I don’t really know...One second.”. The official turns away from his client, asking out loud towards his fellow employee: “Hey, Judas! Do we have any more trainers left?”. “Not sure. Have you tried Isabel?” the fellow employee questions. “I think she’s already taken.”. “What about Rico. No one’s had him for years.” another employee mentions. “Oh yeah. Forgot about him.”. Turning back to Clara, he tells the scientist: “Kay, turns out we do have one more trainer left. Rico, the one that lives across town.”. The employee rips out a piece of paper from a wayward notebook and jots down what looked to be an address. “Here’s his address. Fair warning. Guys a huge prick. You sure you don’t wanna wait until next year?”. “Can’t. I’m a very busy girl.” as she takes the scrap of paper.

Asking for directions towards the address in question leads her down a rather old and barren part of town. Much in contrast towards the part of Columbus she entered from, the streets she walked on were crumbled and full of cracks in turn with the ill crossed roads beside her. The buildings and homes that were still standing didn’t look like they had much time left before they collapsed. Typical post apocalypse affair in all honestly. Maybe the cleanup crew hasn't gotten here yet. The few residents that lived around here led her towards where this Rico guy might be staying.

Aside from the complete abandonment of the neighborhood, she finds the address she had been searching for. Only one house on the street stood that wasn’t in shambles. And even then, it didn’t look all that presentable. Well, there really isn’t anywhere else this Rico guy could live around here, really. Has to be his place. Approaching the shack, the front door suddenly swings open. Out from the doorway stood a man with clown make up on, aiming a pistol towards Clara’s head. “Stay the hell away from my shack!” he roars. She backs away from the armed carnie, falling upon the shattered streets as she holds her hands high in the air. The scientist wondering how many times its been that she’s been on the opposite end of awaiting fire arms and came out unscathed thus far. Quite a number of lucky breaks, isn’t it? The scientist hopes that this encounter won’t be any different, but doubt creeps into her mind as the man before her seems to be leaving not the best impression. “I’m fucking sick of you riders coming over and tearing up my home! I’ve had it!”. “A-Are you Rico?” the scientist wonders. “Who hell wants to know?”. “My name is Clara. I’m wanting to enter the race.” she answers the clown. The man lowers his weapon, an astonished looked was painted alongside his clown make up. The surprise quickly turns into laughter that echoes through the broken neighborhood. The laughter ceasing, he asks: “Alright. Who the hell put you up to this? Was it Manfred? Fucking dick. No no, gotta be Oppela. That bitch always had a sick sense of humor. Maybe it was Derack. That asshole doesn’t know the meaning of the word stop.”. “No one put me up to this. The guys over that the ranch told me to come here. Saying you were the only trainer left.”. Hearing her answer, Rico groans, adding: “Of course. What else could it be?”. The clown man turns back towards the inside of his home, telling his guest to: “Come on in. Fill you in on the details.”. Watching the supposed trainer go back inside, she picks herself of the cracked concrete and cautiously follows the man in.

Coming inside, the scientist found the inside almost as decrepit as the outside. The furniture within looked old and torn up, being vaguely repaired at the least to keep from breaking down. Waving through the air was a strong musk mixed with a vaguely rotting scent. How does this guy live like this? Clara takes a seat upon the fragile sofa, hearing the wood and springs within loudly creaking. She feels like just the slightest impact could snap it in two. “So you that desperate to enter the race, are ya? You sure you don’t wanna wait til next year and try your luck with a different trainer?”. “I don’t really have much choice. Gotta get supplies and get outta town as fast as I can.”. “On the run, huh? Alright then, come on. Let me show ya your steed.”. “A-Already? You haven’t even introduce yourself or apologize for aiming your gun at my-”. “Kid, we got three days til the big grand prix. We need to speed this shit along, asap. Come on.”. “Jeez, fine.”.

The clown leads the scientist out towards the back of the withered shack, where out stood a tiny stable. Looking inside, she find the mutant steed she would be riding with in the race, a large bear spider. Its eight fuzzy legs attached to a big, but skinny body that boasted a grizzly head with slumbering six eyes. “Oh my god!” Clara exclaims. “Yep. A genuine bear spider. She’s a real beaut alright.”. Rico crouches down to the sleeping ursa arachnid and gently shakes her head. “Come on Angelo. Time to get up. We got a new rider for ya.” he gently tells the bear spider. Angelo slowly opens her six eyes, gazing upon her trainer and the person that’d be riding her. Letting out a soft groan as she rises from the dirt, her legs wobble as she tries to stand, like a newborn deer fresh into the world. Hearing the mutant ursa groan much louder, Rico pulls out a can of food as he comforts the starving beast. “Sh sh shh. I know your starving. Gimme a sec”. Using a pocket knife, the trainer cuts open the can of beans and feeds them to Angelo, to which the beast swiftly devours, her trainer holding the can as she eats. After the contents are quickly consumed, Rico drops the can and asks the bear: “You feel better?”. The bear spider gives a satisfied growl in response. “Good. Good.”. Getting back up, the clown man turns to Clara, commanding: “Okay. Snap to it.”. “Excuse me?”. “Gotta get on the beast.”. “You want me to ride that?”. “Well duh, you gotta ride it. How the hell are ya supposed enter the race if you can’t even get on the steed?”. Clara looks towards her potential steed, seeing Angelo's beady eyes staring right towards her. Slowly starting to take the approach, she reluctantly reaching her hand out towards the mutant bears head. “Come on, kid. She ain’t gonna bite.” Rico impatiently blurts out. “Gimme a second! Last encounter with a mutant animal didn’t go so well for me, okay.”. As her palm closes in towards the mutants head, Clara braces herself by tightly shutting her eyes. Her grasp fills with fuzz, she opens her eyes and finds that Rico was right. This beast is completely docile. She shifts her grip towards Angelo’s neck, feeling the fuzz trickle through her palm. This gives her the gumption to try and mount the ursa arachnid. She slowly climbs up upon Angelo’s back, seating herself on the leather saddle placed atop the beast. From her view, she towers over the trainer, the top of her head grazing the roof of the small stable. It almost make her feel, powerful, mounting such a fearsome looking monster. “Wow.”. “First time riding a steeds?” Rico guesses. “First time riding...anything. I’ve never even driven a car before, much less a mutant animal.”. “Congrats. Time to ride.”. “N-Now?”. “Yeah now. Gotta get Angelo in shape by the time the race rolls around and get you up to speed on riding a steed.”.

In the streets out in the front of the clowns home, Clara was trying to keep her balance atop the bear spider as they rode along the crumbled roads. The trainer reluctantly watches as Clara tries to forcefully turn Angelo, tugging the ropes along her mouth, but having no luck as the ursa simply shakes her about. “Come on! Just turn already!” the scientist complains, her steed groaning in refusal. The bears constant struggling eventually makes Clara fall of her back upon the cracked concrete below. “Agh! Ow! What’s the matter with this bear spider? I can’t get it to go anywhere I want it to.”. “She” is just fine, kid. It’s you that’s whats the matter.” she hears Rico say, the clown staring her down over head. “What do you mean by that.?” Clara wonders as she gets back up from the pavement. “I mean that you can’t force Angelo around like a car or a truck. Its a living creature, like you and me. You gotta respect her as one, ca-peesh!”. “Oh...Guess you have a point there. Sorry.”. “Try telling her that?” Rico demands, pointing towards the mutant steed in question. The ursa’s gaze shifting away from the two in a huff. The scientist approaches the mutant beast, putting her hand on Angelo's side and apologizing with: “Uh, s-sorry...About being too rough with you. I’m just not used to riding, well...Anything really.”. Hearing this, the steed pivots her head slightly towards her rider. “I’m promise not to be as rough when steering you around, alright?”. With that, the mutant ursa fully turns, answering with an appreciative groan.

Getting back atop the bear spider, she grabs hold of the ropes as she seats herself upon the saddle. “I didn’t realize that riding a steed would be so hard.”. Clara remarks. “Gotta build trust with her first. That way, she’ll listen to ya. Got it.”. “I think so.”. The scientist gazes forward, seeing the broken road ahead. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, she asks the steed beneath her: “Okay girl. Let get a move on.”. On command, the ursa arachnid goes forth, slowly crawling along the cracked streets. Upon coming towards the end of the road, the scientist commands her steed to: “Now, lets turn around.” she asks, pulling the rope to the left. As instructed, Angelo turns away from the end and back towards Rico. Seeing how slow they’re going, she gently whips the rope, giving the order to: “Kay. Let’s pick up the pace.”. With slight gusto, the bear spider speeds up, its many legs scrambling at a brisk pace. Clara sees them quickly approaching Rico upon the side of the road. A little too quickly. Oh god! Too fast! They’re gonna crash into him! The scientist pulls hard on her steeds reins in an effort to break. Both rider and trainer worried about the potential accident, they yell out towards the ursa: “Stop!”. Angelo grinds to a halt, her head inches away from Rico’s clown face. All of them let out relieved sighs upon dodging such a close call. “Phuw...sorry about that. Didn’t realize how fast she could pick up speed.”. “It’s alright. Happens to all of us. I think we should maybe take this whole practice somewhere a little more open.”. “Like where?”. “Don’t know. You’re choice, I guess.”. Thinking for a second, her mind immediately goes towards an obvious choice. “I think I might know a place.”.

Guiding both her new steed and its trainer, she takes the two back to the ranch, many a riders racing through the dirt track around the establishment. “Here we are. Should get in a ton of practice riding around here. Ya know, I didn’t notice before but some of the mutants here actually look kinda cool. There’s a rabbit wolf, a rhino cheetah, lion pig, gorilla kangaroo, gecko zebra, horse crocodile, monkey frog. Rico, are all the animals around here chimera’s like this?”. Looking over towards the trainer, she finds him to frightened to respond, simply giving a horrified glare. “Uh...Rico…You okay?”. “What...the...fuck is wrong with you!?” he curses. “What?”. “Why in the ever loving piss stains did you bring us here of all place!?”. “I thought it was a good place to practice.”. The ursa arachnid lets out a frightened groan, its 8 legs gradually backpedaling away from the dirt track. “This is absolutely one of the worst places we can possibly practice! We need to book it hell outta here right this fucking second!”. “Alright, Geez. Don’t need to be so pushy.” Clara sasses as she turns the spider bear around. “We gotta hurry, before anyone notices we’re-”. “Rico?” someone wonders. “Son of a bitch.”.

Clara turns around, seeing one of the riders eye them from behind. It was a punk looking rider atop the rhino cheetah that was racing through the track a moment ago. It’s muscularly tone legs and sharp horn could decimate anything it would swiftly charge through Between its horn, the beast eyes coldly stare at the three, Angelo beginning to inch away in fear. Quite the deadly adversary. “What the hell are you doing back here?” the punk threatens. With a sigh, the clown man unenthusiastically responds with: “Hello Derake.”. “Who’s he?” The scientist wonders. “That is the Derby Champion.”. “Four years running, you mean. You wanna tell me what a jackass like you is doing back on the track?” “Not really. Just about to leave actually.” he responds, heading towards the exit. “What’s you’re hurry for?” someone laughs as they cut them off from the way out.

Angelo comes to a sudden halt as she was faced with a scaly stallion. Blocking their way out was a kooky looking woman dressed in what would normally be way too much green leather. However, the overboard attire did match the fierce crocodile horse she was mounting. A bite from its sharp set of teeth would leave anybody in a bleeding mess. “You guys just got here and party’s just getting started.”. The horse gator under her gives a deep growl, making Angelo back way. “Whoa whoa, who’s she?” Clara questions. “Oppela. Silver medal.” Rico answers. After a sinister giggle, the croc rider wonders: “And who’s this cute marshmallow you managed to sucker in?” Looking towards Clara, she asks her: “Let me guess, he bribed you, didn’t he?”. “Well actually-”. “I don’t bribe people, Oppela. What would I even bribe her with?”. “A fair point. You live in such a squalor.” somebody with a distinguished accent points out.

Turning back, they set their sites upon a well suited aristocratic man atop an ape kangaroo hybrid. The mixture of the upper body strength of a gorilla spliced with the lower of a kangaroo made for such a powerful combination and it knew this. The chimera proudly puffs its chest in dominance, standing atop its toes. “It’s a miracle you’ve managed to survive for as long as you have.”. “And he is…?” Clara tries to fish for answers. “Manfred. Stuck in 3rd place.” Rico throws out. “At least I’m ahead of the curb. You’ve barely managed to scrape your way out of last.”. “Hang on, what?” The scientist wonders, turning towards the trainer. “He didn’t tell ya toots? Old Rico here’s never managed to snag a win in his career.” the punk stated. “Always close to dead last. It’s so pathetic.” the leather woman adds. The clown man can’t help but look away, wordlessly confirming their accusations. As their laughter dies down, the aristocrat returns the question at hand, saying: “I believe there’s still a question afoot here. Young lady, why exactly did you choose Rico of all participants?”. “Uhh-”. “Yeah, come on. Fess up. What he do to ya?” the Derake wonder. “Nothing, I-”. “Then what’s the deal here?” Oppela pushes. “Um...” Clara stall, looking back towards Angelo’s trainer. She turns back towards the other riders, admitting: “He...was the only one left.”. The riders surrounding them awe in realization with Derake adding: “There it is.”

“Young miss. I suggest you quit now. Riders under Rico’s employee do not last very long.” Manfred suggests. “Can’t really quit. Gotta win the prize and split town.”. “Well then, guess we gotta make you quit then, do we.” Oppela tell her. “Excuse me.”. “You heard what she said. Either bail or we’ll make you bail.” Derack corrects. The riders surrounding threatening them inch closer, boxing them in. “See, this shit is why I didn’t wanna come here. Got any more bright ideas?”. Rico sarcastically questions. “Just one.” Clara answers. Turning towards her future attackers, she tries to distract them with the question: “Hold on a minute. Before you guys beat us like a meat processing facility on overdrive; Answer me this: The three of you obviously really good. But tell me; Who among you is the best?”. This old trick can’t possibly work. They’d have the brains of dead sea monkeys in hopes of them actually falling for it. But what other option is there? She’s got nothin left. “Ha ha. That’s a fucking easy one. It’s me.” Derake respond. “Hold on a second. That’s a load of BS, man. It’s gotta be me.” Oppela rudely retorts. “Sorry, who the hell is the derby champ again? That’d be me bitch.”. “We’ve all been champion at one point, Derake. Simply owning the title isn’t a measure of worth.” Manfred cuts in. “Alright asshole. How many times have you won?”. “Certainly more than either of you.” Manfred answers. “Really? Cause last I remembered, you’ve only won 4 times in your whole career. I on the other hand got 7 wins under my belt.” Oppelo counters, breaking the box that they were using to trap their victims. “That’s cute. I’ve been in the game longer then either of you and all that really doesn’t even come close to my 10 winning, with a 4 years winning streak bonus!” the punk boasts. As the three rivals prattled on with their horrendously clashing egos, Clara, Rico, and Angelo use the opportunity to attempt their escape, crawling their way towards the exit. “I can’t believe that old shitty trick worked.” Rico remarks. “Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are.” Clara adds. In their ramblings, Derake glances over and notices their prey escaping, breaking the entire debacle by shouting: “Hey! The fuck do you think you’re going!?”. The others take notice, their scowls locking on them. “Shit! Bolt it!”.

Ditching the stealth approach, they rush towards the exit in hopes of making a swift escape. Oppela speeds right around them and blocks their only way out, her horse croc threatens with its sharp set of fangs. Manfred jumps towards their direction, threatening to crush them under his beasts heels. Angelo dashes out of the way of the gorillaroo’s strong kick. Feeling the earth tremble beneath their feet, they glance back and witness Derack lunging towards them. They barely escape the strong charge, feeling the raw power behind the rhino cheetahs dash as it passes. Clara looks around and sees nobody coming to their aid. The other riders and the officials simply watching as this pursuit plays out. Looking towards the exit showed a couple of them even shutting the ranch gates, trapping them withing the enclosure. What’s the matter with them? Why are they letting this happen? Why is nobody helping? Questions that race through Clara’s mind as she formulates a plan of escape from their pursuers. Finding a jumping fence coming up, Clara asks the trainer: “Suppose Angelo can’t jump right?”. “Not really, no.”. She opts to go around the brittle fence, hearing the sound of breaking wood behind them, which catches Rico’s attention.

Alarmed, the trainer pulls on Clara’s shoulder to grab her attention, warning: “Uh, kid. Rhino cheetah’s inbound.”. She looks over the trainers shoulder and finds that his warning was correct. Derack was catching up fast. Looking ahead, she nears the edge of the ranch fencing. Beyond the open fields laid the rest of the city. She could probably lose their pursuers if she manages to escape the enclosure. Swiftly, she turns away, leaving Derack to crash into the picket fence. Peeking back, she finds the blunt impact of charge to buckle the fencing. Another punch like that should be more than enough to break through.

She plans to come around again, when her turning is halted by Manfred, nearly jumping upon them. Looking up, Clara sees the aristocrat, bouncing high in the air for another stomp. “I fancy myself a good hunt.” he declares as he plummets towards them. She weaves Angelo around the track to avoid the hopping mutants. Dashing away from the gentleman bouncing assault and running through the race track.

They see Oppela and her horse croc riding up ahead, threatening to run them over. Clara looks back, seeing Manfred ready for another jump. An idea pops into her head. She faces forward, both Rico and Angelo wearing looks of concern, as if worried why their rider wasn’t slowing down. “Uh, kid. Think you might wanna hit the breaks.” he warns. “Both of you gotta trust me on this. I got an idea.”. “Does that idea involve us not ending up being chewed alive like a tasty meat stripe?”. A panicking whimper escapes from the bears maw as they drive ever closer. Oppela coming up, they see the horse croc to be exposing its sharp teeth. “Come on, little marshmallow, I wanna take a bite outta ya!” the leathery woman demands. Closer and closer both riders come, Clara waiting for the right moment as the opposing mutant readies to bite. Once they were close enough, Clara makes an immediately turns away from the gaping maw of the beast, narrowly dodging its clasping maw. Oppela turns her gaze towards Clara as she passes by, witnessing the scientist taunting her with her tongue out. “Grr, god dammit!” she curse. Manfred sees his leathery rival riding near as he plummets down towards her. Unable to stop his descent, he tries to instead warn her by shouting: “M’lady! Look out!”. But by the time Oppela notices him, it was far too late. Both their mutant steeds collide with one another, resulting in quite the inter species crash. “Yes!” Clara cheers. “Damn!” Rico astonishes.

They’re short lived celebration was halted when they hear the sound of heavy stomping behind them. Looking back, Clara sees Derack passing though his rivals, chasing them once more. “So, is part of your grand plan too?” the clown man questions. “Kind of. Just need to lure him back around.” the scientist answers. She then makes a sharp turn and dashes towards the charging mutant. “Not this shit again!” Rico shouts. This game of chicken however had far less risk, because Clara didn’t wait until the last moment to move aside. Instead she dashes away beyond the rhino cheetahs sharp horn and sets her sites upon the buckled part of the fencing. Looking back, they find Derake skidding across the grassy fields of the ranch to make a quick turn back towards his prey. Clara then stops Angelo right in front of the broken fencing, the usra’s trainer asking her: “What the hell are you doing? We gotta charging rhino cheetah coming up on our asses fast.”. “I know. Just gimme a second.” Clara stresses, turning her steed towards the right of the fence. “You really like putting me through this anxious bullshit, don’t you!?”. Both of them observe their punk pursuer approaching, quickly closing the distance. While the scientist remains a little nervous, both the trainer and the ursa arachnid are thrust into an utter shutter on the thought of being flattened like a Sunday morning breakfast pastries cover in bloody syrup. Clara’s moment was near, now was the best time for her to take action. “Now!”. She urks Angelo forward, dashing her out of the lunging beasts charge. Just as she predicted, Derack crashes through the enclosure, giving them their means of escape. Clara doesn’t waste a single moment with her exit, dashing quickly out from Magmor ranch. Dashing away as punk rider witnesses them in the midst of their escape. As Oppela and Manfred pick themselves and their steeds out of the crash, they hear their rival ordering them to: “Get up, you assholes! They’re getting away!”. Quickly, the riders mount their respective steeds and join Derack in his pursuit.

Crawling away from the ranch, they quickly find themselves racing through the streets, passing by countless other mutant driver in their escape. Rico looks back to find their three pursuers turning the corner and racing after them. He then looks down upon his beast and finds Angelo to be tiring out, her legs losing their luster. “What now, genius? Angelo here’s running outta steam and those bastards are still gunning for us.”. “You said Angelo was part spider, right?”. “Yeah. What of it?”.

Their pursuers witness them turning the corner around an apartment complex. The riders quickly follow and find their prey to have vanished, only seeing the setting sun in the distance. “The hell did they go?” Derack screeched. “They seemed to have vanished. Not a trace of them left to investigate.” Manfred concludes “You sure they pissed off down here?” Oppela asks. “I swear I saw them turn this way.”. “Perhaps your vision deceives you, Derack. Your years fleeting with your site.”. the aristocrat snarks. “What’d you say, you little piss ant?” the punk growls. “Guys got a point, mate. You did say you’ve been in the game longer than any of us. Maybe your age is finally catching up with you.”. Both rivals bombard the rhino rider with both snotty and maniacal laughter. “Shut the hell up.” Derack hollers in a huff, all three of them parting from the chase.

Unaware for any of them, their prey had been clinging high above the building right next to them. Angelo’s paws stick towards the apartment complexes brickwork like quick drying brick cement glue. Clara and Rico perched atop the beasts side to keep from falling off. “How long could he do this?” the trainer questions. “You mean you never thought once to try this?” Clara asks. “No. I always thought Angelo’s paws were too smooth to stick to anything.”. Crawling down from the wall, the scientist then asks the clown man: “Kay, now I got a question. What was that hot mess about?”. “What was what about?”. “That stuff back at the ranch. Why did everyone just stand and watch while those bastards attacked us!? On top of that, why did they attack us in the first place!?”. “What are you, new in town? This shits been a part of Columbus for over 37 years.”. “I literally just got into town today.”. “God dammit!”. The clown inhales a massive breath and exhales before explaining: “Alright, I hate explaining shit, so I’ll make this history lesson brief. Basic gist is that since gas for cars got scarce, people shifted towards riding these mutated animals. Lot less of a hassle anyway, kind of. They use them for everyday life and have help Columbus to get back on its feet into a working society. Racing them has become such a celebrated sport around here that it draws in more of a crowd than a religious holiday bonanza blowout special. As expected, winners are looked up to as heroes while losers are treated as dog shit. Which is why I’m not exactly the winner of any popularity contests around here.”.

Rico makes her get off the bear spider so that he take the reins. “Alright, see ya tomorrow.” he says just as he’s about to leave. “Wait!” Clara shouts. The clown comes to a sudden halt, peeking back towards the scientist, asking: “What is it now, kid?”. “Ehh, well. It’s kinda funny. I don’t really have anywhere to sleep, per say. I was hoping that maybe I could stay at your...” she awkwardly urges. Upon hearing this, Rico goans aloud, reluctantly offering her with: “Fine, I’ll let you crash at my place.”. “Yes!”. “But I ain’t feeding ya, got it? Barely got enough for me and Angelo here.”. With that, the trainer leaves the scientist to her own devices, who was wondering where she might stumble upon more food.

Exiting from the soup kitchen, she licks her lips as she rubs her warm stomach, mentioning: “Ahh, soup kitchen food never tasted so good.”. Coming down from her satisfaction, she begins to ponder with: “Still. I can’t keep going back and forth through town just to grab a bite. I need to refresh my supplies. But how? I don’t have any money. Do they even use money around here.” As if of sheer happenstance, a wagon full of canned goods passed by the scientist, whose eyes catches the cargo as it travels down upon the road. The scientist drops the whole money notion entirely and smiles in favor of a far more sneakier method. She really didn’t really have any cash on hand anyway, if they even used currency, that is.

The humble wagon puller stops upon the back of a small market, the rider mounting of her steed to unload her cargo. Clara peeks around the corner, waiting for the chance to swipe just one box of the canned goods. Some people take a couple of the boxes and head inside. Almost half of them are gone. Her moment passing, she sneaks forth towards the wooden wagon, careful so that no one spots her. Peeking into the back, she swipes one of the boxes and flees with her new coveted set of prizes.

She hides within a nearby alley, peeking around the corner to check if anyone followed her. Looks like the coast is clear. Clara looks upon her spoils. A single box of goods containing approximately 12 cans. Jackpot! This should be enough to last her days on end. A little bit of a heavy load, but the scientist is ecstatic from her ill gotten gains. But guilt begins to weight on her consciousness like a slab of crushing pavement. Not from the stealing, no. The shame from thievery long being numb. What truly burdened her mind was a statement left by the animal trainer in his departing words. “Barely got enough for me and Angelo here.”. Those words plant within her sympathy that begin to sprout. He is letting her stay at his place for the night. Suppose it’s only fair to share her newly appropriated goods.

Trekking back to the shack, Clara finds the inside to be relatively empty, accompanied with only the glow of the dim ceiling light illuminating the living room. She doesn’t seem to notice Rico anywhere. Maybe he’s tending to Angelo? Or maybe he went to sleep, who knows. Just in case, he hollers for the trainer to come out. “Rico? You in here? I brought home a surprise.”. Even though her words echo through the home, they fail to bait a response.

Entering the kitchen, she looks out through window towards the backyard. She finds Angelo snug within her cute little stable, but still doesn’t see any sign of her trainer. Where is he? The scientist jumps when the lights come on without warning. She quickly turns around and finds the clown once again starring her down with his loaded pistol, grabbed in only a shirt and his underpants. “Whoa, hey! It’s just me! Just, p-put the gun down!” she urges him. Complying, Rico groans out load, asking her: “So, do you normally just barge into peoples homes like this? Cause that’s the quickest way to get a bullet lodged in your brains.”. “Uh, sorry. Thought you wouldn’t mind if I just myself in. It was getting dark. “Oh really? Guess that makes things okay then, don’t it? Honestly, your lucky that I’m letting you stay here.”. “Oh, a-about that. I wanted to share something that I found, with you. Just a way of saying thanks for not making me sleep on the streets.”. She lays the box of cans atop the dining table in the middle of the kitchen. “Ta da!” she presents. Rico takes a closer look at the scientists gift, immediately assuming: “You stole this. Didn’t you?”. “What? No. No. I never do something like that. Come on, man.” she tries to deny. Although the guilt of stealing has long been numbed, getting caught was another matter in of itself. Her insincere chortling quickly diminishes as she finds her host staring at her with a disbelieving glare. Clearly, he’s not buying any of it. She drops the act with a defeated sigh, insisting on asking him: “How did you guess?”. “Probably should have took the cans out of the damn box first. That’s a dead giveaway.” the clown elaborates. “You’re not gonna rat me out?”. “Nah, long as you didn’t get caught, I don’t give a shit.”. “Wow, um...Okay, neat.”. Although she wondered why the trainer was so lenient, she counts her luck and refuses to press on. “So, uh where do I sleep exactly?”. “You can sit your ass on the couch for the night.”. “Whoo, thanks.”.

Clara gently rests herself upon the rickety sofa, careful not to break her temporary bedding. Although she’s thankful that it isn’t the cold hard ground, she struggles to feel comfortable against the itchy texture of the couch. Sitting up, she requests to her host: “You don’t got a blanket, do you?”. “This look like a five star hotel to you?”. “Not even one?”. “I only have one.”. From above, a piece of the roof crashes upon the scientist, making her look up towards the ceiling as she rubs her head. The roof has obviously seen better days, countless chips and cracks decorate the ceiling like broken glass. “God. This place is a war zone. How can you live in such squalor?”. “Don’t really have much of a choice. This is all the Colombian government will give me.”. “What?”. “Remember how I said how derby racing ties to popularity, ties into social statues too. Those closer to first are better off, while those near dead last are left to with next to nothing. Don’t even give me enough to feed me and Angelo. It’s why she’s so skinny.”. “So, the government here expects you not only to live and take care of Angelo, but to try and win with what little you’re given with?”. “Yep, even if there were only two racers, they lean more towards the first.”. “That’s…Bullshit!”. “Yep. But that’s the way it’s always been here. These people take derby racing seriously over the well being of others. Its why I always steal food whenever I can. If the they’re gonna try and screw me, I have no problem screw them back”. “Oh…”. That would explain how he knew about the stolen cans. “Well, why can’t you just, quit and get a different job?”. “Can’t. Not without risking Angelo.”. “What do you mean?”. “I don’t know what they’ll exactly do to her if I quit. Likely process her for her weird bear spider meat or something.” Rico concludes, looking towards the kitchen window. Clara join his gaze towards Angelo’s stable. “I can’t begin to fathom the guilt I’d feel over it. It’d to much for me to bear...Nn, no pun intended.”. “Well, how bout this. If I win, then I’ll split the prize with you. Nearly a lifetime supply of food should last you and Angelo a long while.”. She hears the clown give a light chuckles, snickering with: “Good luck with that. Competitions borderline deadly.” Rico sees the scientist laying down upon his broken sofa with a gloom sigh. He tries to lift her spirits by offering: “Tell you what. How bout I pick somewhere for us to practice tomorrow.”. “Like where?” she wonders, looking towards the trainer with a questioning stare.

Upon the morning, they arrive towards a wider, largely desolate part of the city. The larger fair of buildings around them remind Clara of lot of the homes on Rico’s streets, broken, withered, lack of color, could topple any minute, same business really. Only difference were the much more wider roads and crosswalks sharing the same motif that made the perfect track. A much larger course than the one over at Magmor ranch, if not as clean or up kept, but thankfully not as populated with clearly overcompensating douche bags. “Ta da...” the clown presents with little enthusiasm. “What’s with this place. Has the clean up crew not got here yet?” Clara guesses. “Not really. Can’t figure out to get ride of the bigger buildings without it turning into a safety hazard. No one ever comes here. Which makes it the perfect place for us to practice.”. “You want me to race around here?”. “Yep.”. The trainer hopes off the bear spider, patting the beasts side as he tells the rider: “Now get to it.”. Staring out towards the streets ahead, she worries about the exact integral structure of some of the buildings. “Are you sure this place is safe?”. “Kid, we can’t worry about safety when we’re on a deadline here. We got two days til the big race. Gotta get in as much practice as we can before them. Beside you won’t gotta worry about safety during the race anyway.”. “Why?”. “See, thing is, you won’t just be outrunning the competition. You’ll be fighting them back for your life.”. “What!? They’’ll be gunning to kill me!? How is that allowed!?”. “Do I really need to explain the whole derby being more important than human life thing again?”. “Well, why didn’t you warn me about it sooner!?”. “God, sorry. Figured that the whole fiasco at the race track might’ve tipped you off by now.”. Upon being given this harrowing news, Clara growls aloud, echoing through the empty block. Her frustration dying down, she gives an exhausted sigh, wondering: “Can I least get a weapon to defend myself?”. “Does it look like I have any weapons on hand?”. “What about that pocket knife you carry?”. “My can opener!? Hell no! I ain’t risking losin that!...Hang on. You’re still going for the race knowing it’ll be a bloody Mary bath house ? Why?”. “Like I said back at the track, need to refresh supplies and get back on the road asap. Figure this might just be my fastest shot.”. “That much in a hurry, huh? You late for a date with death or something? Gonna catch a moving then go out to eat before 69ing each other at the end?”. “Gee, Rico. You’re such a gentleman. It’s so heartwarming how much you care.” the scientist sarcastically remarks. “Talked long enough. Time to get in some practice.”. “Fine.”. With nothing else left to discuss, Clara sets off towards the broken roads ahead.

The long stretch of cracked concrete, she figured it was safe to test how fast her steed could crawl. “Alright girl, lets she how much horsepower you got.”. The rider whips the bear spiders reins, making the ursa speed along throught the once might urban jungle Her legs rapidly crawl through the streets, carrying both of them through the streets at a surprisingly astounding speeds. The decayed buildings around them were starting to blur in their galloping sprint. Winds blowing upon the scientist face, her hair riding along the ongoing draft. The cooling breeze felt so good, tempting her to shut her eyes as she basks in the peaceful sense that the acceleration brought. Before she could fully grasp such an amazing feeling, she notices the turn quickly approaching. She snap out of her euphoric daze and swiftly pulls the reins in an effort to prevent a potential accident. Clara manages to turn about just in the nick of time, Angelo tilting upon the sudden turn. Both of them regain their balance, the mutant ursa planting her feet firmly on the concrete. That was way too close. A second too late and both of them might have wound up becoming gruesome graffiti art with excessive amounts of red. It might be of best interest to keep herself free from distractions as much as possible when riding atop such a swift beast. A thought that crosses her mind as she continues down the ruined roads.

The block ahead of them looked far more decrepit then the rest of the neighborhood. Whole chunks of concrete road risen and fallen under the exposed dank sewer lines below. No man nor beast could practically hope to cross this horrid mess of dilapidation. She thinks about stopping, ready to pull back in the reins of her mutant steed, but something ahead catches her eye. Next to the destruction was a set of sizable buildings. In need of repair, but look stable enough. Nearing the hole down to the sewer line, she steers her arachnid towards the architect in question without halting her forward momentum. Just as she had hoped, Angelo latches onto the outer walls of the buildings, quickly crawling through their decayed surfaces. Successfully crossing over the abhorrent example of property damage, the scientist steers her steed back towards the ground and continues through the district.

The next obstacle Clara could see obstructing her path was a rather large, and toppled piece of architecture. It’s shattered and pointed rubble laid astrewn across the cracked concrete block, not a single space to squeeze through. The scientist wonder that perhaps she should brake and find a different route. But why stop now? She has Angelo climb through the broken mess of the hefty abode, the bear spider crawling along bits of rough concrete. Seemed that no matter how severely rough the rubble had become, the fuzzy arachnid could rush right through with little to no ramifications. Angelo has been proving to be full of surprises. Wonder what else she might be capable of?

Both of them loop back around towards where Rico had been awaiting. They stop right next to him, Clara mentioning: “Hey Rico, uh...So how many laps do you figure I gotta go around.”. “Laps? Oh uh! Actually, it be best if you pick different routes at random each lap. That way you be prepared for whatever random course the race is set up on.” “Random course? What do you mean?”. The trainer gives out an exhausted sigh, halfheartedly explaining to her: “Every year, the committee maps out a different route around the city. The only way racers know the where to go with is blue tape set up along the roads, informing both riders and citizens of the designated racetrack.”. “Wait, the whole city? I have ride around all of Columbus in one go!?”. “There are checkpoints that you have to stop at, but basically yes. Why do you think I want you and Angelo to get in as much practice as possible. We gotta keep the training train rolling, here. Go on, get moving!” he demands. Upon this new bit of news, she has Angelo hustle through the streets.

They burn the rest of their daylight practicing, taking little breaks every other hour. The sun setting betwixt the cracks of the distant buildings, their shadows blanketing Clara and Rico as they ride atop Angelo back home. This time, instead of the soup kitchen, Rico offers the lady dinner, the best he could muster anyway.

At the dinner table, Rico whips out his pocket knife and carves out the lid of the can. The trainer sets the can in front of his guest, presenting with a lackluster: “Bon appetit”. Looking within the can, viewing the dull noodle concoction of soup and chicken. “Chicken noodle soup?”. “Yep. Came from the box of cans you stole.”, Stabbing the top of his can, he lifts up the can of soup like a glass, declaring to her: “Welcome to socioeconomic disparity.”. Rico then downs the contents of his can like a can of beer. Probably wishes it was beer too. Clara looks down upon her lightweight dinner and thinks that a far less poisonous option for a beverage might spice up the night and soothe the nerves all at once. “You got any water?” she asks him. “Some. Why?”.

Filling two mugs with fresh clear water, the scientist deludes their drinks with the tea from her backpack. Both of them taking swigs of the homemade brew, they breathe out with a much needed relief. “Oh, man. I needed this shit. So damn good.”. “Yep. Haven’t felt like this in days to be honest.”. “I haven’t in fucking years. Where did you get this stuff?”. The scientist jumps from her seat, obviously not wanting to tell him about the less than ideal scenario she had to go through. “Uh...you know...some-somewhere.”. Rico shrugs, slouching upon the dining chair with with another sigh. “I’m going to sleep so good tonight.”. Now that both of them were far more relaxed, Clara grabs the trainers attention with: “Hey, um...Now that you’re not as...pissed, I’ve wanted to ask something that’s been bugging me.”. “Fire away.”. “What with the clown getup? Did you run away from the circus.”. “Pfft, I wish. Some assholes broke into my home one night and covered my face with permanent paint. Is why I keep a loaded gun stashed around.”. “My god. Just-Why? I-I mean, know you can’t quit, but why did you get into such a harsh job in the first place.”. She hears her trainer laugh mildly, swishing his tea around with a single hand. There’s a hint of an underline tragedy within the chortling, like a sort of self pitiable disposition. Oh god, this gonna be so depressing, isn’t it

He stops sloshing the mixture with his mug, staring down upon the reflection as he lets out a weary sigh. “I did this to my own stupid ass.”. “What do you mean?” she pries. “I got into training steeds thinking that it’d be an easy gig. Feeding, riding, cleaning, the usual. Thought it didn’t sound that hard…I was so fucking wrong. I wasn’t prepared for how demanding raising a mutant beast could be. The competition and government don’t help either.” Looking out towards his steeds outside, he continues with: “What’s worse is that I just didn’t dig my own grave, I dug Angelo’s too. Poor girl deserves better than me. Why the hell didn’t I just take the stupid store clerk job?”. The scientist could here her hosts irregular breathing, as if he was trying to keep from breaking down into tears. He composes himself long enough to drink the rest of his tea, getting up from the dining table to head down the hall. “Thanks for the tea. I’ll see you in the morning.” Rico finishes as he walks into the darkened hall. Clara can’t help but pity the guy. He really screwed himself over. Taking one last swig of her tea, she heads for bed, determined to get in all the practice she can tomorrow.

Back over at their practice course, the morning sun rises behind the horizon, brightening the twilight sky. On the road, Rico had riden Clara down towards the track, who was still very tired, leaning backwards in such a way that she’s barely able to stay on. “Alright, were here.” he grunt them. With a very audible yawn, she utters to the trainer clown: “5 more minutes, papa. I was having a nice dream about this pretty la...” the sleepy scientist mumbles. He hops off the ursa’s back, points towards the road ahead and orders her to: “Now get to it.”. “Okay, chokey, bok-bokey...” she murmurs as she rides off, Angelo exhaling a much louder yawn.

After a lap, the rider begins to awaken, shaking the sleeping daze out of her system. “Ugh...I miss coffee so much. I’d kill for a cup of joe.”. She starts to tilt back in her half wake lull, flopping herself upon the lower back of her beast. Upon impact, she hears this wet gushing sound that makes her jump back up. Now fully woken, she notices Angelo struggling to moved forward, the arachnid dragging her paws through the concrete. Clara looks back, surprised to see a thick white silk that came out from the bears backside towards an opposite building “Huuuh?”.

After bringing Rico over, he starts to inspect the string closely, twanging the silk like a banjo string. “Hmm...”. “So, you had no idea that she could do this either?” “Not really. No. Damn stuffs as strong as steel wiring though.” the trainer admits, pulling upon the string to test its strength. No matter how hard he pulled on the webbing, it would not even splinter. “Geez, no wonder you come dead last all the time.”. “Shut up and help me pull on this.”.

Grasping hold of the sticky string, all of them pull away from the opposing building with all their might. A piece of the architecture that the string had caught was pulled out from the bottom, making the entire structure crumble down. The dust settling, nothing was left of the complex but countless rubble. Angelo’s webbing was not severed from the piece that was pulled out, unfortunately. “Well shit.” Rico astonishes. Rico begins to pull the leftover string out of Angelo’s backside. Amazed by the strings durability, Clara begins to conjure all kinds of scenarios for its utility, the vast options opening up to her. “Wow. I bet I could do all kinds of crazy stuff with her webs.” she declares. “Probably. Best to mix it in with your racing practice. Ya need as much as we can get, seeing the entire town will be against you.”. The trainer takes the string out, shaking of the sticky webbing from his hands. “Oh great. Thanks for the motivation. Can’t wait to arrive at the starting line with the whole city.”. “Oh they won’t just be booing you. That’s for sure.”. “Oh what now.” Clara worries. Hearing the trainer sigh, she hears Rico start to explain: “Okay, I probably should have warned you about this from the start. That’s kinda my bad. But see, every year during the race, its very common for people to bet loads of good on racers.” “Not seeing the bad so far.”. “Thing is, those gamblers will do anything to make sure their bet wins. Setting up deadly traps, hired snipers, exploding decoys, all to thin out the competition.”. “You’re kidding, right!? How the hell is “that” legal!?”. “Technically, it’s not. But beyond the checkpoints, there ain’t enough security around to stop them.”. The scientist lets out an upset groan, realizing how much of the odds are stacked against her.

Along the makeshift course, the scientist has her steed come to a halt, pondering how far Angelo’s webbing is able to shoot out. But how to make her spit out her silk, she wonders. Thinking about how the sticky string was shot out the first time, she decides to reenact the first incident. Clara pats the spiders lower abdomen and sure enough, the silk launches out from the ursa’s backside once more. She watches the white webbing go quite a long ways, reaching nearly half a mile along the stretch of road. The tethering attaches itself to a complex upon the opposite side. Clara is about to pull the string out, but wonders if there is a much faster way to detach from the webbing. She scans through one of her steeds legs, going down towards the ursas feet. Dismounting from her beast, she gives Angelo’s paws a much closer exam. Noting the very sharp claws at the end of them, she wonders if their strong enough to cut through the silk. Angelo herself turns, as if curious what her rider might be trying to do. The ursa witnesses Clara take her claws and use them to cleanly severe the bears spiders own webbing. “Ha ha!” the rider exclaims, Angelo letting out a surprised grunt upon this discovery. It seems even the mutant beast is taking those steps towards self discovery. After that learning experience, she wonders how the newfound stick silk can be utilized. A thought popping into her head makes her snap her fingers. She climbs atop her steeds and continues down the broken roads.

Upon coming to a pair of opposing buildings that looked stable enough, Clara finds it the perfect grounds for her test. She guilds Angelo’s to climb toward the side of one of them, spitting out the ursas silk upon a sturdy part of the wall. The scientist then guilds her steed towards the opposing complex without cutting off Angelo’s tether, having the bear spider attach the other end to its wall. Crawling back, she finds the string of webbing stretching along the opposite ends of the streets. Clara pulls back on the sticky silk and finds it to be quite strongly flexible, plucking it like a readying wood ward instrument. Given the flexible durability of the webbing, it could be quickly setup for use of an on the fly trap or a makeshift slingshot. Slingshot. Hmm… The scientists decides to put a new theory into action.

Using what strength her beast could muster, Clara made Angelo pull back on their setup as far as it would go, the silk stretching quite a ways before beginning to fracture. “Alright, ready?”. The bear spiders shows clears signs of worry about where this might be going. Once the signs of splintering start to show themselves, Clara gives her beast the command: “And...now!”. Angelo reluctantly loosen her footing upon the cracked concrete, the string flinging them high into the air.

Their velocity sends them a far ways through the blocks, gliding high into the air over several low bearing architectures. It isn’t long though before they find themselves hurtling towards a towering complex. Clara knew if they didn’t find someway to stop soon, both her and her steed would find themselves to soon be recent example of the dangers of aerial shenanigans. She spots a building ready to pass through and acts fast, making Angelo shoot out a string towards the wayward abode. Attaching itself to the complex, the flexible silk begins to slow their careen. Both of them come mere inches away from the building before being flung backwards. They’re thrown back towards the attached architecture, Angelo mistakenly severing her own string in their midair tumble. That slight error makes them fly out of the building reach, instead plummeting towards the streets below.

Angelo on a panic, Clara waits for them to near the row of buildings below until she has her shoot out another string. Once close enough, she pats the beasts back side, silk shooting out towards one of the torn apartment complexes. They swing through the streets on the white tether, Clara hanging on tightly so not to fall upon the pavement. Reaching the ark of their swing, another idea pops into the scientists head. She takes her steeds claws and severs the silk, making them once again plummet towards the ground. Once more, the mutant beast launches her sticky webbing upon another piece of architect, both her and her rider swing into the air. Just like before, once reaching the ark, she makes the ursa severe her own webbing. This repeats to a point where they’re swinging through the destroyed district like a famous spider themed hero of sort, only without as much cuddly fuzz or overabundance of limbs. Beyond the distract, Rico couldn’t help but watch both of them rise and fall behind building after building, a wondrously confused gaze painted across his makeup covered face. After several swings, Angelo cuts her string as they near the ground, crawling through the streets to of shoot any leftover momentum. Once they slow to a halt, the rider is left with an adrenaline fueled excitement, while the steed is left in a panicked shake. The feeling of swinging through the streets with the wind in her hair leads her to declare aloud as she adjusts her glasses: “That...was...intense! Imagine how fast we could go using your webbing. We’d destroy the competition.”. In here excitement, she only now starts to hear the whimpers of her steed, looking down as she find it covering her eyes. “Oh...I...guess that might have a bit much for you, huh”. Her steed stirred in a fright, Clara dismounts from Angelo’s saddle and jumps in front of the bear spider. She bends down upon the crouching beasts, comforting with: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you through all that at once. But you heard what Rico said, we gotta practice this for the race. So why don’t we dry up our tears and get back in there.”. But all her steed could muster as a response was a scarred whimper. Hearing this, Clara lets out a sigh and instead promises with: “Okay. How about we just take baby steps, instead. Nothing extreme like the slingshot. How does that sound?”. Angelo begins to uncover her eyes upon hearing the promise, slowly rising from her whimper. Standing once more, the scientist mounts her steed again, asking her: “Now, lets start off with that building over there.”. The ursa starts climbing up towards the complex in question, ready to give practice another go.

The last day of practice beginning to fade, Clara and Angelo swings out from behind the corner on a white tether. The ursa slashes the webbing loose to glide forward through the streets. Before they hit the ground, the arachnid spews out another string of silk towards another building and swing across the broken block. “Yeaheah!” the beast rider cheers, her beast letting out an optimistic groan. It seems that with enough practice, the ursa began to feel comfortable with the idea of swinging about through the streets. Seeing Rico on the sidelines, they land upon the ground within a swing and run out any leftover momentum, coming to a slow crawl upon reaching the trainer. “So, still think I don’t stand a chance or what?”. “Psh, you’re gonna need a hell of a lot more gumption and a little luck if you’re actually aiming to win.” Seeing her disgruntled glare, the clown then adds: “Buuut...You might just pull a miracle outta your ass yet, who knows.”. “Gee, Rico. I’m so thankful for your support. You’re my sturdy rock in the midst if this hellish storm of doubt.” she responds with mountains of deadpan sarcasm. “Don’t mention it. Now lets get going. Need a lot rest for tomorrow.”.

With Rico taking the reins, they start to head out as the sun began to set. On their way back, a passing wagon full of canned goods catches Clara’s eye. She tucks on the back of the riders shirt, grabbing his attention with: “Hey, Rico. Check that out.”. The trainer glances towards the wagon, questioning: “Yeah, whatta bout it?”. “What you say we dine as Kings tonight?”. “Ha ha. You gotta plan cooking?”.

The common wagon hauler stood atop his humble bullquana, riding through the patched roads in a relaxed galloping crawl, thought the waning twilight begins to worry him. It won’t be long til the night encroaches, and with it numerous thieves, ready to plunder his precious cargo. He’s gotta get to the store to drop off this sweet loot fast. He stops by a large alley, the opposing buildings casting the space in a black blanket of cold ominous shadows. The perfect shortcut. The rider begins his descent down the alley, finding a lot more room through then he first thought. It’d make a fantastic one way street. Maybe he could suggests as such towards city board. Halfway down, the hauler begins to relax. The light from the setting sun at the end contrasting against the darkness being quite the relieving backdrop. The man takes a comforting sigh upon it all, describing it as: “Beautiful.”. That calm suddenly snaps away when he feels something tug at his backside. Turning around, he finds one piece of his cargo being pull away through the air by a white string of sort. Oh hell no! The rider quickly backs out of the alley, determined to skewer whatever scoundrels dared swipe from his wagon. Out from the alleyway, he finds his precious large box of cans being plundered by a couple of hooligans scuttling atop a weird bear thing. There gonna get an ass full of bullquana horn when he catches up to them. Eagerly, he charges straight for the thieves, disregarding any public safety in his pursuit for justice. Justice dammit! Many a riders and passerby jump out from the bullheaded cargo haulers dash in hopes of not getting flattened. Swerving through street after street, the constant barrage of mutant beasts in the way makes it hard to see his target, but he is absolutely certain that they’ve turned the corner. Following his potential victims, he is drawn into a dead end, the twilight illuminating through the chain link fence. Although he looks hard, he can’t find his prey anywhere, the only thing of note around being the empty box the cans came in. Where the bleed piss did they go!? They couldn’t have broken through the fencing, its still in one piece. Did he misjudge his pursuit and took the wrong turn? He starts to turn about, but finds the police atop their steeds blocking his path. Oh perfect! Maybe they can help with recovering his goods.

Atop one of the building, Clara, Rico, and Angelo all watch as the reckless bullhead driver is dragged away by the authorities. Their fresh plundered spoils wrapped up nicely within Angelo’s silky white strands. “Good girl. Good girl!” the trainer praise their steed, Angelo herself letting out a happy groan upon being given well deserved scratches behind the ears. Looking down upon the alley, the scientist finds the wagon they plundered out to have been left behind, its precious cargo left for the taking. She turns over towards the clown, asking: Hey Rico. We got room for a few more boxes?”. “Oh hell yeah.”.

Night finally falls upon the city of Columbus, all of them drag their spoils back to Rico’s broken abode. Dozens of cans litter the backyard as everyone lays on the back porch after engorging themselves to their feast. Each one of them groan out. “Uhh...That was good. I haven’t eaten like that in weeks.” Clara maons out. “I haven’t in literal fucking years…Hey, kid?”. “Eh he?”. “That crazy ass tea the other tea might have made me leak personal shit that I wouldn’t have said otherwise.”. “You did almost cry.”. “Yeah...Almost. Anyway, think its fair to pry some info outta your head tonight.”. “Alright. What are you asking?”. “Why...Why the hell are you in such a hurry to get outta here? Why the hell are you wanting to enter a race you know might get you killed?”. Clara stood from her slouch, answering with hesitant: “Well to be honest...I trying to find someone?”. “Who? An old fuck buddy?”. “No. No. Nothing like that. I mean I’m trying to find him so that maybe I can fix this huge mess that we made. Last I heard of him, he got snatched up by Canadians and flown over the border. I don’t know what he might be doing with them, or worse, what they might be doing to him. Its why I gotta bolt it to Canada asap.”. The scientist hears the clown man laugh, watching him get up from his laughter filled slouch. “The hell so funny?” she objects. “You’re wanting to get through the northern border? Border patrol there is insane. You think you’re the first person to try? Those Canadians will eat you alive.”. Rico lets is laughter die down when he sees his statement have saddened the poor girl. “Um..well...Aside from the couple that do manage to sneak in, not many people make it through. You probably need a miracle to pull it off. And from what I’ve seen. You’re damn good at pulling off miracles.”. The scientist lets a soft chuckles escape her lips, returning with: “Thanks. You know, you’re not as bad as I first thought. Just some guy that took a wrong turn in his life. Hope that I can stay on the right path on mine long enough to fix this mess.”. “Eh, don’t worry. You got a good head on your shoulders. Sure you’ll do better then my stupid ass did.”. After that statement, the trainer rises from his wooden porch, stretching his arms out as he announces: “Alright. Let’s all haul our asses to bed. Got a big day ahead of us.”. Both Clara and Rico head inside, Angelo drags herself towards her stable. All of them rest up, for tomorrow will truly be quite the tussle.

#faded land #lillaxtrigger

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rjcauthor · 6 years

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How to Make a Living as an Indie Author

[Author Note: Originally published on my website in 2014. The basics remain the same.]

I thought about titling this post, "My Advice to Writers 2014 - 150,000 Books Later," [2018 Update - 1,000,000+ sold and counting] but it'd be disingenuous. I'm not speaking to all writers here. There are plenty of advice guides/blog posts for basic writers, for the hobbyist, for the person who wants to get their book queried and submitted, etc, etc.

I'm not really an expert in any of those fields, so why spend my day off writing a blog post about it? (Why spend my day off writing a blog post at all, honestly? Fuck if I know. I should be on the couch partaking of the last day of the Titanfall beta or rewatching a few of the Harry Potter movies on Blu-ray. Instead, I'm doing this. I must be mental.) Anyway, I'm writing this because I want to speak to a certain segment of the writing population, and that's the person who wants to make a living as an indie author.

I've written advice posts before, and a lot of them were filled with caveats that were designed to protect people's feelings and avoid controversy, and also protect my ass from anyone who might get upset. Let me get those out of the way ahead of time: I'm assuming if you're going to read further you're:

a) Looking to make a living as an indie author, and are unwilling to accept any other means of making a living long-term.

b) Are smart enough to decide after reading my advice if the methods I describe are a fit for you.

c) Are willing to work for 100 hours per week for a sustained period of time if that's what it takes.

d) Are smart enough to know that I'm too busy to personally mentor anyone beyond this post. You're going to need to figure out the rest for yourself. Find some author friends, some like minded people you can talk to. It'll help a lot.

(As an aside, my harsh words here in this post are going to be the least of the slings and arrows you'll have to deal with if you go down this road, so maybe take it as a warning to look for surer footing elsewhere.)

Some quick background:

In March of 2011 I had been in financial services for seven years. It wasn't going terribly well, and I was spending all my free time working on a story idea that was absolutely haunting me. It kept me up at night writing, and I was having my friends read it and waiting anxiously for their feedback. I loved it - loved writing it, loved hearing what they had to say about it, loved every part of it enough that I was forgoing all my other hobbies just to write.

That was a unique experience for me. I'd gotten a degree in Creative Writing with the intent of becoming a novelist, but gave up on that dream by the time graduation had rolled around. I hated writing after getting my degree, my love of it all ground out of me by years of being forced to write about subjects I did not give two fucks and a shit about. I'd started half a hundred novels from the time I was in fourth grade until college; after college I didn't write anything for eight years.

I had started writing again in the summer of 2010. I kept writing for a few months during that summer, in spite of everything that was going on - work demands, a toddler running around the house, a pregnant wife, a house that we were doing a ton of work on to sell, selling said house, moving in with my in-laws, and a hell of a lot more.

I wrote in spite of all of this. I wrote DURING all of this. I kept coming up with ideas to advance my plot, ideas for interactions between my characters, ideas, ideas and more ideas. I'd sit at work and write ideas down during meetings - whole chunks of scenes and dialogue. I was a financial services salesperson and trainer; I was supposed to be paying attention.

It got bad. I didn't care about my financial services business anymore, all I cared about was writing. So I started trying to figure out how to become a full-time writer, and looked into traditional publishing (which was the only game I had heard of back then). It wasn't a happy answer I came back with. The short version: Good fucking luck, kid, and don't quit your day job.

A little depressed, I put aside my writing for a few months and redoubled my efforts in financial services in preparation for the upcoming baby. By the time January rolled around, I was twice as frustrated, and I was back on the writing again. I looked for answers to the question of, "How do I become a full-time author?" again, and this time I found something different.

Self-publishing. Amanda Hocking. Joe Konrath. They told tales of copious sales, of massive amounts of money, and of working hard, but being in charge of your own destiny. I found a few other names like David Dalglish and B.V. Larson, and I started studying up to figure out how I could do just a fraction of what they were doing. It took me about a month or so to figure it all out, but I came up with a plan, and on March 5, 2011, I told my wife I wanted to quit financial services and stay home with the baby so I could write in every available moment.

I'll spare you the argument and say that eventually she went for it. So I stayed home with our youngest and wrote obsessively during naps and after bedtime, defraying daycare expenditures for the first year and releasing two books with a third finished by the end of the year. After that, we put both kids in daycare all-day, every-day and I started writing full-time as of January 1st, 2012. I was making a living by the end of September, just after my sixth book came out.

And here's what it took to do it.

1. Be calculating

Whenever I talk about what I do/did as an indie author, I inevitably hear people in the background say, "Ehh, he just got lucky, that's all."

To them I say: I planned for both failure and success, understanding that as long as I did not yield, I could work until some level of success was inevitable. Luck may have vaulted me to way above what I'd planned for, but I didn't count on it and it wasn't required to be able to making a living, which is what I wanted - and what I planned for.

I worked my ever-loving ass off in ways that no one ever saw, spent most of my off-hours in analysis, took mighty risks, gambled a lot of money, time and basically my entire future on my own success, and then watched things work ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE I PLANNED FOR IT TO BEFORE I EVEN FINISHED MY FIRST NOVEL.

You need to constantly assess the landscape by reading about your industry. You need to know about what's going on in the world of publishing, the world of craft, everything about your industry that you can soak up. Even if it sounds stupid, even if you violently disagree with it, the time you spend learning these things can all weigh in the formulation of your game plan.

Watch the people who are doing it, and try to distill the common denominators of their success. I heard some motivational coach say, "Success leaves clues." No successful author is doing it exactly the same way, but a lot of them are doing similar things.

A lot of people speak of planning like it's something you do once and forget about.

Are you fucking kidding me? Planning is an ongoing process. Like Sun-Tzu said, your plan ain't gonna survive contact with the enemy (pretty much everything is your enemy, btw, this publishing environment is like Australia) so you have to revise it constantly. Throw out what isn't working, make new plans, revise old ones. My overarching plan (strategy) was this:

i) Write a shitload of books

ii) Get them in people's hands somehow

iii) ?????*

iv) PROFIT!

*(Step iii is actually, "Get them to pay for the next ones.")

It's the little plans (the tactics) - how to get those steps done - that needed changing. And you must assess where you are CONSTANTLY. And it cannot get in the way of your writing. (Starting to see why obsession - #5 - is important?)

I had this basic strategy/plan when I came to my wife on that day in March, and frankly, the strategy hasn't changed in the (nearly) three years since. What has changed are the tactics - the little ways I carried out said plan. Back then the way you carried out ii was through 99 cent pricing. That no longer works the way it once did, so now it's permafree or box sets (or the nuclear option, permafree box sets). (See points #2 and #7).

Caveats/Pitfalls for Point #1:

a) You will need to spend your off hours studying this business the way a horny teenage boy studies every line of the pretty girl in front of him's body while he's bored in math class. (See point #5, re:obsession.) You will need to read articles, journals, blogs, books and possible advice scrawled on rest area bathroom walls. (Jenny - 867-5309 and other assorted bathroom stall wisdom is probably not going to help you, but collect it anyway. Better to have it than not.)

b) If you have no experience running a business of any kind, things will be more difficult for you. I don't know how much. I spent eight years running a business in financial services before taking on this responsibility, and it was like an internship that prepared me for being an indie author. I learned to manage my time, I learned about marketing and sales, about loss leaders, and about picking up the shovel and doing unpleasant work I didn't want to do in the name of staving off working for someone else. I hate the thought of working for someone else. It's a powerful motivator for me. If you don't have motivation to drive yourself, this is going to be tough for you.

2. Write fast

Ingredient number one in the souffle of success is hard work. But simple hard work is not enough; results are key here.

In fact, this is probably the biggest caveat to the whole equation, because if you can't write fast (and a lot of people can't, no shame in that) it might not work for you like it worked for me. I wrote 140,000 words of fiction in my evenings over the course of a couple months while I was still running my financial services business because I was so obsessed with the story I had to tell.

Some things that *might* help you write faster - writing sprints of 15-60 minutes, reinforced by taking your laptop computer somewhere that has no internet/distractions or using an internet blocking program like Anti-Social or Freedom. Still, if you can't write fast enough to get out four books per year...again, this might not be the plan for you. I'm not dogging on you, I just know what it took for me to get to my present level of success, and I'm not sure what it will take below that level of output. Is it still possible? I'm sure it is. I just didn't plan that way so I can't really advise you.

Additional caveats/pitfalls of fast writing -

a) Make sure you have an error correction process in place. Spellcheck alone is not going to do it. Professional editing would be a great idea.You have to decide what your Quality Assurance process will be, but you need to have SOMETHING in place. Not every reader is turned off by tons of errors in a manuscript, but a lot of them are. These errors take away from your story. They're a distraction. You're fighting the wind instead of using it. Don't get me wrong, there's such a thing as TOO MUCH when it comes to time spent on error correction, but you need to find this balance for yourself.

b) You can write crap to get the words out, but you damned sure better edit/rewrite it until it's professional-grade. I can fix words on a page that suck, but I can't edit a blank page. Make sure your stories are good (See point #4), that they're engaging, that they keep the reader moving through. Get beta reader feedback to tell you where people are putting your books down and try to figure out WHY they're doing it. HINT: They may not know the reason why, exactly. Study craft to narrow it down.

3. Learn business

There's a lot of bullshit out there. Tons of it. Enough to fertilize the entire world. In your opinion, maybe this post is filled with it. It doesn't really bother me if that's what you think, because once I write this post, I'm done with it. I'm not an advice guru, I'm a full-time independent author who derives all his income from selling books, not writing advice posts. So if you don't like the material herein and think it's bullshit, you know what to do with it - fertilize something.

What does this have to do with business? Everything. If you're going to be a full-time independent author, you have to fill your time with things an indie author would do. You also have to develop a really exceptional bullshit filter. You need to seek WISDOM (publishing information) from a variety of sources and develop the DISCRETION (bullshit filter) to decide what to apply and what not to. Some of the things you decide not to apply may not be bullshit; they just may not be a fit for the direction you want to take your career.

For example, discounting. Lots of people run sales on books, run specials on books. I haven't done hardly any of this, with a couple recent exceptions. This particular strategy is NOT bullshit, it just doesn't fit for the direction I want to go with my career. It's a perfectly reasonable business plan that works, just not one I want to employ.

Another thing about business - if you're not able to understand basics of profit and loss, contracts and how they affect you, the concept and application of loss leaders, basics of time management - okay, this is going to be a problem. The indie authoring industry is a place of shifting sands, where things are changing rapidly and what worked yesterday isn't necessarily going to work tomorrow.

What else goes into the business end of things? Tracking sales, choosing vendors, figuring out your budget, figuring out how to grow top-line sales while improving the bottom line by controlling costs, and dealing with the ten thousand assorted land mines that could crop up on a daily basis. Other business activities could include trawling through the data on your bit.ly or smartURL links to determine where you sales are coming from, figuring out which the best venues are for adbuys (I have no comment on this) or networking with other writers and talking shop.

Caveats/Pitfalls:

a) This is probably the least clearly delineated subject in this post. The reason why is because I don't really know how fast you can learn what you need to know. Maybe you've already got all the business experience you need to start with the basics. Maybe you have no business experience and are starting from scratch. I'm not even sure what all I've learned along the way from my previous career and how much it helped me, at least not in quantifiable terms. I just know it's helped a TON.

b) If you don't know anything about business, that doesn't mean it's GAME OVER, MAN. You can learn. I highly recommend constantly trying to assess your weaknesses and figuring out how to shore those up. A couple areas I think authors struggle with - Time Management/Procrastination and Self-Discipline. If you've got those areas down, good for you. A few books I think might help if you feel out of control or unsure are Kris Rusch's Freelancer's Survival Guide and Brian Tracy's Eat that Frog! (which is a time management/priority setting book). Actually, I've read a lot of books by Brian Tracy and they've all helped. The Freelancer's Guide is a good starting point, though, for general business basics.

4. Learn your craft

I'm not talking about grammar and spelling. Spellcheck can save you in one of these regards. You do need some basic knowledge of sentence structure, syntax, etc, but a good editor can help you if you're close on that. Grammar and spelling aren't really elements of craft.

Here I'm talking about descriptions, narrative voice, all the components that allow you to take the reader from beginning to end without losing them. There are a LOT of pieces to this particular puzzle, and you'll spend a lifetime working on this if you're serious about it because there's always something new to learn. Still, some fundamentals:

a) Openings

b) Cliffhangers

c) Pacing

d) Character Voice and Setting

Classes on all these topics (and more) can be found online. Make sure you use your bullshit filter to determine whether the person you’re learning from is actually worth learning from.

If you can't afford classes, let me suggest you at least read heavily in these and other areas of craft. There are tons of books on craft from experts out there. I'll try and compile a list to place at the bottom of this post in the comments, but I don't have time for it right now.

Be deliberate, as Joe Konrath would say, considering how best to improve and giving all due thought to how you can employ what you've learned in your next work to make your writing better.

All craft exercises boil down to one purpose and one alone: HOOK YOUR READER FROM THE FIRST WORD AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT FUCKING LET THEM GO UNTIL YOU'RE DONE.

Everything you learn in craft, from characterization to plotting to whatever is essentially boiled down to the essential storytelling skill of keeping them interested in what you're saying. Find the obstacles in your writing that are knocking people out of your work and shave the rough edges off them as fast as your peppy little fingers can figure out which keys to punch to do so.

Some things that can help you build your audience - write in a series. Same characters when possible (not EXACTLY possible in romance to keep the same main characters book after book, but in mystery, sci-fi, fantasy, etc, you should do this). Can you build a career writing standalone novels? Yeah, but I don't know how to do it so go find someone who can instruct you in this manner. (see point #7 for more on the benefits of writing in a series.)

Caveats/Pitfalls:

a) Your first million words is (probably) going to suck. I had an advantage here in that I've been writing books since grade school so I expelled a lot of these crappy words during my teens/early twenties the way White Castle hamburgers are expelled from your digestive tract - violently and messily, with much disgust from anyone who witnesses this spectacle.

b) Taken alongside the first caveat, realize that sometimes you're better off jumping series as your craft/ability to hold the reader improves. My first series did not take off the way my second series has (probably because the first book isn't as strongly written/well-crafted with hooks in the first as the second). It doesn't mean I abandoned my first series (in fact it's doing quite well now) but I did put it on the back-burner for the last couple years as I focused on the one that was paying my bills. The first book of my first series was...my first book. Ever. I was still learning to write a damned novel. My craft got stronger and my second series did much better.

5. Be obsessed

To quote Bree Bridges (half of the Kit Rocha writing duo of hilarity and awesomeness), "When I say it's possible to make money in publishing, I'm assuming you've tried the easier things like digging for pirate treasure."

This does not mean it's impossible. It does not mean you can't do it. It just means that if you're just looking to make a living, it's easier to get a job that works you 40 hours a week that allows you to shut off your brain afterward.

You CANNOT do that in self-publishing and expect to have it work. You will need to think about it all the time. Wanting to make your living telling stories has to be the thing you get up for in the morning and the thing you go to sleep at night thinking about.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life telling stories and getting paid for it. I wanted no boss, no schedule but that I set for myself, and I was willing to work 100 hours per week for myself so I didn't have to work 40 for someone else (thanks to L.T. Ryan for that quote).

6. Market

Lots of people have different definitions for this. I have only one - help people who are looking for a book like yours to find your damned book. You can call it visibility, you can call it discoverability, you can call it the gorram hillbilly rock for all the fucks I give on the subject.

How did I market? One way, and one way only, pretty much. I wrote in a series that had an overarching story, and I set my first book in said series to free. Permanently. That's right, you can read the first book in my two series for absolutely nothing in e-reader formats. (More on this in point #7.)

But wait, you say! It's now 2017 and that doesn't work anymore. Amazon has come along and killed the permafrees to death using an algorithm attached to a death ray.

Fine. What's the lowest possible price you can get as many of your books to? Do that and see how many copies you can give away. No, I don't care if you've got a ten book series and you're selling 9 for 99 cents in order to collect full price for that last one. If that's what it takes to move some fucking books, you'll find me there doing it, too. I will race you to the damned bottom, and I feel confident that I can whip the ass off most of the other people there because I'm obsessed, I'm a fast writer, and I have no problem with discounting ridiculous amounts of my backlist in order to get people to TRY - JUST TRY - my writing. I dare you not to read on.

And really, this is all marketing is. I'm trying to expose the readers who will LOVE my books to...MY BOOKS. Some will merely like them, but keep reading. Some readers will get caught up along the way and only somewhat enjoy my books. Maybe they'll read more, maybe not. A certain percentage will dislike my books. A certain percentage (hopefully small, if I've done my craft job correctly) will absolutely DESPISE my books and want to flame them in perpetuity with bad reviews and bad word of mouth. This number is baked into the cake of success, so get used to it. I want AS MANY OF THOSE HATERS to read my book as possible, because if they're reading it, so are the people who will love it.

Marketing is just finding ways to get those people exposed to your books. I don't do interviews, blog tours, (or blog posts, really), Twitter spamming, etc. I did it my way - permafree and having enough reviews to get the big sites like Pixel of Ink, E-reader News Today, Bookbub, Indie Book Bargains in the UK - to give me some signal boost so my books could go up the freebie charts. Kobo has given me a helping hand before as well, getting visibility on their site. I didn't ask for it, they just gave (and I'm grateful for it). Ultimately, though, none of these things would help me if I hadn't set the damned books free and gotten enough positive exposure to push them up to where people could find them.

Exposure. That's the magic word. And I don't mean the kind that gets you sent to jail for indecency, so put your pants back on. (Until you're a full-time writer, then pants are optional.)

7. Don't be afraid to give your work away for free

Between 11 April 2012 when I released my book Alone: The Girl in the Box, Book 1 and when I set it free in September 2012 some five months later, I sold 42 copies of it through all channels. In August I released books 2 and 3 in that series, ended up making four figures that month for the first time, five figures in November, and I've never even come close to a four-figure month since.

Would that have happened if I hadn't set Alone to permanently free? I doubt it. Sales weren't even moving in the right direction on it before I set it free to boost its exposure. The month before it went free it sold 3 copies. Since then it's been downloaded some 320,000 times for free and generated some 100,000+ paid sales for the rest of the series (almost all at $4.99 or the foreign equivalent).

There are two ways to look at those numbers - the first is to say, MY GOD, YOU MISSED OUT ON 320,000 SALES, ARE YOU MAD?! The answer is no, not really, because I've probably only missed out on the 3 sales a month I'd have generated without the additional visibility brought on by Alone being free, and I traded it for a boatload of money in the form of subsequent sales. That's not even counting all the people who finish reading the Girl in the Box series and move on to the other books I've written, because there are those people, too. (And I love them. My truest fans.)

That's the second way to look at it. The thought that follows is, "if only I could give away MORE copies for free, I'd be able to push that paid number to 200k+ or 300k+." (Which I'm working on).

Let's talk about the emotion of this for a moment. It hurts to set your beloved book free. It's painful to drop it to a low price. But a recent survey of successful indie authors found that something like 85% of those making over $500k per year had at least one permafree. Look for commonalities, right?

Whatever promotion hurts you the most will be most appealing to your readers. (That's according to one of the most awesome gurus of the indie movement, Edward W. Robertson.) I agree with that statement wholeheartedly, which is why this morning I started the process of setting my two biggest sellers - Untouched and Soulless, books 2 and 3 in my Girl in the Box series - to FREE. Why would I do that? Because I'm thinking even if I go from 3:1 freebie to sale ratio, if I could give away a million of those free (because of the added appeal of 3 BOOKS FOR FREE OMG DEAL) and it drops to a 5:1, I've still sold 200,000 more books. Boom.

It hurt when I set my first two books free, but it gets easier every time. And yes, it even hurt when I was selling a couple books a month, because I put blood, sweat and tears into those books, making them as good as I possibly could. However, their true value is not in the price on their cover; it's in how much money they're making for the author. After all, I'm not in this to make $10 per book; I'm in this to make a living. Free is just another tool in the toolbox for making that happen.

Caveats/Pitfalls:

a) Maybe your book isn't appealing to readers (NOTE: I DID NOT SAY YOUR BOOK SUCKS. Though it may. I don't rule that out, having not read your book. It may be sucking the balls of every donkey in the shire, for all I know. But maybe not.)

If this is the case, a few things will happen - once you get to about thirty reviews, you'll probablyknow it it's not appealing to readers because your review average will be low. What's low? If you're below 3.5 on 30 reviews on Amazon.com, it's not a good sign. (Caveat to the caveat: Whatever you do, don't read the reviews for your work on Goodreads. This will not be helpful to your career - or your mental health, in all probability. And definitely don't base any judgments about what to do in your career on Goodreads reviews. Goodreads reviews skew much lower than Amazon, and as far as I'm concerned, anything above 0.1 on Goodreads means I'm doing aight.)

Again, just to be plain, for bad reviews - does it mean your book SUCKS? No, not necessarily. It means that for whatever reason, it's not CONNECTING WITH READERS. Which is the name of the game to make a living. Creating pure and beautiful art is the province of people who don't have any outside concerns (and don't write genre fiction). Us lesser mortals (aka Genre writers) have to get by on the time, energy and money we have.

I would never tell you to base your career decisions on one or two reviews, but if you've got 30 reviews on Amazon and half of them are 1-stars...you're going to have a hell of time getting even a permafree enough exposure. It may be time to jump ship to another series, and possibly another pen name depending on how bad it looks.

Writers are terrible judges of their own work, and the authors who most need to be told their work sucks would still think it's awesome even if they're running a 1-star average on 5000 reviews while an author who writes amazing work tends to bash their own brains in because they got their first 1-star after 9 5-stars in a row. (Another point, which I'm going to say only once here - In the words of Troy McClure, "Get confident, stupid.")

b) Maybe you're in a genre that's not selling. Maybe it's awesome, but it's in a genre that Bookbub is ignoring. (Sorry, Bria!) That can happen. If you can, pick a popular genre. I'm not telling you to defile your art (or whatever), but I was fortunate in that the stories I wanted to tell more or less fit into a reasonably decent-selling genre (Fantasy). If you write second-person POV octopus mysteries, your mileage won't just vary - it will suck. Even if your book is awesome.

8. Never stop learning

Things change rapidly. If you're not constantly paying attention and reading industry blogs/keeping up with the goings on through some form of peer group with its ear to the ground, you will miss opportunities. You will miss landscape changes. These can be subtle (the slow death of Amazon Select - actually, know what what? That wasn't all that subtle) or obvious (I dunno. The caffeine is wearing off. Find an example on your own.) Either way, you'll lose out.

I had my plan, I had my basic strategy, and I started to make money in September 2012. I could have coasted, thinking I had my shit together. Instead, around October or November, I made an enormous change, one that felt like a pain in the ass to implement, but that has made enormous difference in my career.

I implemented a mailing list with links in the back of my books.

I didn't fully finish implementing this until February 2013 (and I kick myself for failing to do so) but HOLY CRAP does it make a different. If you're wondering what I'm talking about with a mailing list, go read THIS POST on Kboards by my friend SM Reine. I'll wait for you here until you get back. Make sure you read her follow-up posts as well, down the thread.

This single change is revolutionary. If you're waiting for your audience to come find you every time you release a book, you're basically throwing your baby into the waiting wolves of the Amazon algorithms. Want to make a bigger splash? Want to "game" the system? Get your damned fans to all buy your book at once. It'll make a bigger splash. If you have half a dozen cherry bombs and you light them one at a time, it's like launching a book with only social media to inform your audience. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop!

Get a mailing list together and send that puppy while you're informing your Facebook and Twitter, and it's like wrapping those cherry bombs together to create a stick of dynamite. It can help you push your new release up the genre list and garner you exposure for your entire series. "Oh, look, book #9 of this series looks interesting. I should go back and read book #1." Boom, you hooked a new reader. And best of all, once they sign up for your mailing list, they're added to the dynamite for future launches.

If you're going to go to the hard work of writing and releasing books for a living while you're trying to build an audience, don't be yutz by skipping the last steps to success. Find a way to make it easier for readers to hand you money. Make it simple for them to know you've got a new book out.

Don't get stuck in marketing like it's 2009 and you can just format a warm turd into a .mobi, price it at 99 cents and have an Amazon Bestseller. ( #1in the Fiction -> Fantasy -> Turds & Burglars category! Oops, sorry, they eliminated that category in the great 2013 category shuffle. Which you would know if you were paying attention.)

Never stop learning. Or you'll get your ass beaten by someone who's figured out something you haven't.

Caveats/Pitfalls:

a) Honestly, no matter how much you're learning, you're going to get caught flatfooted by big changes every now and again. Try and limit how often this happens by keeping your fingers on the pulse of the indie author world (and off other places - you will go blind, dammit, STOP THAT).

b) You're probably going to get your ass beaten by people anyway, so you might as well be a good sport about it. Be honest: from where you're sitting right now, if you were suddenly selling a million books per month at $2.99, would you be happy? What if you were selling that many but you were still #1,987 on your category's Author Ranking?

Put another way, who cares what your peers are doing if you're meeting your goals? Focus on you, because you can't control what others are doing, you can only learn from it and apply it to your own career if it fits.

9. Don't be afraid to fail BIG - and find a way to use it as a stepping stone for future success

My first year as an indie author (2011) I made $12.25. I actually earned more than that, but because of the limitations on how big your earnings need to be before they cut a check, that's all I made. I never cashed that check, and it's still sitting on my desk right now (which is how I knew the specific amount).

That's kind of a big failure, isn't it? Would you be happy earning that much for your year's labor? Whatever your answer (please say no), realize that I was expecting that, so I didn't get disappointed when it happened. The game I was playing was long term, and I was aiming more for growth than anything. I was excited when I went up to 25 sales in a month, and I didn't get all bummed out and pissed off and demotivated when I sagged the next month. New releases and promotions help push you up, but there's a natural sag given time.

Another "failure": I launched a book last month, a collection of short stories in my Sanctuary Series. Thus far it's sold 468 copies, and at a lower price than I usually price my work. Whoops. I wrote a short story collection in my lesser-selling series and it bombed. This isn't a huge surprise or anything, but it's a failure. I'm not going to go crying over it, but you can bet I'll think long and hard before I spend my time writing another short story collection.

Of course, here's the biggest one of all: Every month before I started making a living was a failure, really. It was a calculated failure, but it was a failure nonetheless. We were sinking money into daycare costs, losing time for me to go get a degree in something that would pay me (with an English degree and financial services experience, I don't have a great resume). I was willing to accept as many of those failures as it took to cross through to success. My wife, however, was not going to wait forever.

Every month (even now) I do an autopsy on my calendar. What did I do right this month? What did I do wrong? What can I improve? (I also track my wordcount, sales, and number of books presently for sale.) My entire career in finance ended up as a failure, but that doesn't mean I didn't take away a ton of salvage for use in this one.

Comb through your fuckups. Often times you'll learn more from those than your successes.

Caveats/Pitfalls:

a) When you start to see some success, don't be a fucking idiot and stop working. Work twice as hard, because now you know your strategy is doable. I worked even more in 2013 than I did in 2012 because now I was 100% sure I was on the right track. I'm going to see if I can beat what I did in 2013 this year.

b) I think this probably goes without saying (but I'll say it anyway in case any of you are morons): don't go into something TRYING to fail. Unless it's low risk/low loss. Assess the amount of time/energy/money you're going to sink into something before you commit to it if it's got a high failure rate. Don't waste your time doing stuff you're almost certain is doomed unless it's like five seconds of your time. And don't get bummed when it goes to shit, expect that in advance and be pleasantly surprised if you get anything out of it.

10. Keep writing

I think I'm exhausted and the caffeine is wearing off, so I'm going to make this as quick as I can. If you're the type of person who's easily discouraged, this is going to be tough on you. If you're the type of person who flits from job to job always looking for the "better deal" or the "next thing"...you're probably not going to have much success here, either. If you're not okay with spending ten hours per day hammering at your writing career on various fronts for a while without much of a vacation or break...I don't think I can help you. If you're not bursting with excitement at the stories you have inside that SIMPLY MUST BE TOLD, I'm not sure this career thing is going to be the right fit.

But if you're dedicated beyond the capacities of most humans, if you're obsessed, and you're smart, and you're willing to learn and do whatever it takes (on this side of the legal and ethical bounds please, you Frank Underwood, you) to build a backlist and get your books in front of people, you can make a living as an indie author. Will it be huge? Maybe. Will it be minimal? Maybe. I don't know. There's some definite variance in mileage between writers, but I've seen enough of them MAKE A LIVING to know it's possible if you approach it correctly and you're willing to work hard enough to make a one-armed paperhanger look idle.

Once you've got all these other points down, it's really down to you to keep writing. Keep putting books on your bookshelf. Take the hits that will come and do not stop tapping keys on that keyboard. I don't know how long it will take you to get there, I honestly don't. Personally, I didn't care how long it took. The eighteen months it took for me passed like nothing because I was having the time of my life.

This isn't the lottery; there's not just one winning ticket. There's really no luck involved either, just an obscene number of things that are outside your direct control. There are so many things you can do to influence these events, though, and I've outlined as many of them for you as I could here. I probably missed some; I'm kinda tired by now, and it's my day off.

The bottom line is that if you *really* want to be a full-time indie author, I think you can do it. Will it be easy? FUCK NO. If you're looking for easy, scroll back to that paragraph with Jenny's phone number. This will be a lot of "nose to the grindstone."

But will it be worth it?

In every year of my financial services career, I interviewed people looking to hire them. I'd listen to their stories, hear them talk about their work lives. Every day I did that, I put myself in their shoes and imagined what my life would be like if I had their career. Sometimes I'd shudder, sometimes I'd wonder what it'd be like if I'd made the choice to do what they did. Sometimes I'd wish I had. A lot of times I wished I had. Especially when things got bad.

Since the day I started to write full-time, I have never once imagined myself as anything other than a writer. I have never wanted anyone else's life or job for my own, and I have never wanted to be anyone but me. I've maybe wanted to have other authors sales numbers if they're doing better than me, but I've never wanted to swap anything else.

I don't want to do anything else but what I'm doing. I love this gig. It's the best job I've ever had. Last year I went to England for a week to research a novel and meet some fans. Had one of the best times of my life. In January, it got damned cold here so I picked up and took the kids to Florida for a week to hang out with my parents and go to Disney. Sure, they just went last October, but you only live once, right? (I also wrote something like 12,000 words on a book while I was on "vacation" so...)

For me, it was worth it. It was everything I'd ever wanted and when I got here, it was everything I'd dreamed of plus more. I guess what I'm saying is, if you're the kind of person who wants it that badly, who's willing to do what it takes to do it, I hope this helps you.

Keep writing. That's the last key. Through the bad times, and the good - hopefully it'll mostly be good, but you better plan for the other. If you want it bad enough that you're willing to put in effort in these areas, you can do it. If you're hating every day of it, though, then it's probably not for you, and there's no shame in that.

What being a full-time indie author basically boils down to is that you keep writing, because you love it so much you can't stop. No caveats. No pitfalls. Just a love of writing that won't ever let you quit.

(Editor's Note: There is no editor and I'm sure this post is riddled with errors. Fuck off and go write, okay? I'm going to go play Titanfall.)

#writing #writers #writeblr

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imagine-that-one-thing · 7 years

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Styles & Co. || Chapter 19.

Authors Note: Hey everyone!! Here is the Chapter. (I managed to get it finished right before I left for my mini getaway). I really hope you like it. Feel free to give me feedback and what not. I always love hearing what you guys have to say, and what you think will happen next. :) Xx

Warning: Smut Warning!! (Mother would wash my mouth out with soap and chain me to the house if she was to ever see this).

Rated M for Mature audiences: May contain, violence, sexual content and/or strong language. Don’t forget the other links: Can also be fund on WattPad, HERE Previous parts found HERE You can find my blurb Master list HERE To Enter to win tickets for Harry Styles IN Nashville TN, HERE

Harry:

I pull my eyes burning with hatred away from Charles Taylor and glance towards Niall, his own nystagmic eyes that miss nothing turning to me. His brows bump together in a scowl, his lips purse before he sighs.

“I need to go, if I stay any longer I will end up in jail,” I mutter, my eyes set on getting myself back to my Hotel without causing any sort of altercation.

I take a deep breath and Niall nods, “Let’s go.” Niall launches away from the bar, gesturing me to walk with him.

Niall and I move out of the room with all the business associates, leaving behind an opportunity as the doors shut behind us. I sigh and subtly shake my head, agitated and disappointed that I just had to make a decision to leave because of some prick that I can’t control myself around. I enter the marbled lobby that is flamed splendidly in a warm manner, nobody else accompanying the area to my surprise. I set my eyes on the tall glass doors with a gold trim, eager to step out and get myself to the Hotel so I can call Elise.

It is his voice that causes me to freeze in my tracks, my entire body going numb for a split second as my name is shifted from his repugnant margins. I jerk my body around in a sharp motion, his figure standing before me, my jaw clenching at his presence.

“What the fuck do you want?” I spit, unable to hold my harsh words from coming out. I have a lot more I would like to say, to even do, but I can’t, I can’t fuck him up while on a business trip.

He has nerve speaking my name— he has courage just being around me. He unquestionably has not learned his lesson to stay away from me. I thought I made it clear that one night, apparently he was misguided.

“How’s Elise?” He challenges as if he has a death wish upon himself.

My blood boils at her name leaving his mouth, his ruthless, revolting mouth that deserves nothing but to feel my fist hammering against it, repeatedly.

My teeth sink into my cheek as I take a profound breath, well aware that if I make a scene not only will it ruin my reputation as a businessman in this setting, but as a boyfriend. Elise will not be so generous with me the second time round if I come home after beating the shit out of someone. There is no doubt in my mind that it will just add to her stress, I don’t think she needs more of my damn troubles to become perched upon her.

“You know what, lad? She is doing great; I think the real question that needs to be asked is why you are here? And why you double crossed Logan and are now the owner of the building in Manhattan?” Niall steps in for me, not giving me a chance to spit back uncivil words that would be nothing but a string of vulgar expressions.

I don’t know what happened with Charles Taylor, or how we even managed to get in the predicaments we have with him. I don’t know where he came from or what his association is with me or Logan, all I do know is, Charles is trouble, trouble that I do not want to be associated with my business or my personal relationships.

Charles stares at the two of us with a smirk decorated across his mouth, “Me? Double cross Logan? Ha! He tried to double cross me; I just managed to get the upper hand. I’d make sure he watches his back.” Charles shrugs his shoulders without much effort, he doesn’t seem as if he cares or is in any fear at the moment. His posture is straight and firm, he is acting inferior, superior, in fact.

I roll my eyes, my fist clinching to my sides, “What the fuck do you want with the building?” I mutter, wanting answers on just what Charles has planned.

If it wasn’t for Logan, I would have the building and it wouldn’t be Charles in charge of it. Fucking, Logan.

With a tall erect posture, Charles raises a brow in an amused way, thoroughly entertained by my interest and misunderstanding of things.“It is a nice asset. You know a lot about assets and that building. Don’t you, Mr.Styles?” Charles sneers with a smile dangled on the corner of his lips.

“You’re testing my fucking limits.”

“Hmm, that pretty girl of yours has some nice assets, really nice assets… A shame if anything happened to them,” He rocks back and forth on his heels, cocky and gleeful as he taunts me.

Fuck my morals and the business.

My hands grasp his shirt and I manhandle him, thrusting him against the firm wall, a heavy huff escaping his lips as his back hits the wall with force. My anger overpowering me far more than I had expected.

I thought I could stay calm, oops.

I stare at him with dark stormed eyes that burn in his soul, but he seems unphased, he is testing me. “I bet hearing Elise’s name fall from my lips really pisses you off,” Charles grins, not seeming to be in fear of me in the slightest bit,

Crimson with fury my clenched fist makes contact with his mouth, hitting it firmly and vigorously as Elise’s name descends from them. Her name slipping from such repugnant lips sends my nerves into a furious state. He has no business pronouncing her name, he has no busy even fucking thinking about her, none.

“Harry, Harry, mate he isn’t worth it.” Niall attempts to intervein but I ignore him, my hand again making contact with Charles, something it has been desiring to do since the moment he opened his fucking mouth. He should think twice before purposely pissing me the fuck off. He has no need to be here or to be talking to me. I don’t give a damn about him, he can rot in hell for all I care.

“That’s enough, Elise doesn’t need you in jail.” Niall manages to make me release my hand from its grip on Charles shirt, my body stepping away from Charles as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

I flick my hand to the side, just now noticing the pain stinging through my knuckles from making contact with Charles.

“Don’t say her fucking name, don’t think of her, don’t even fucking breathe around her. Got it?” I mutter, “Or so fucking help me, I will put you six feet under and have no damn regrets. Stay the hell away.” I spit, not having any desire to be nice and collected with him.

Charles doesn’t say a word, he just stares at me with a slight bit of blood trickling from his lip. I take a breath and take another step back before I turn on my heel, my eyes finally looking around to see a few people have managed to catch a glimpse,

“They should take a picture, it’ll fucking last longer,” I mutter to Niall as I adjust my suit jacket and pull harshly to my front, clearing my throat as I step closer towards the doors, ignoring everyone around that may have some sort of comment to publicise in what just happened.

I step into my hotel room and let out a heavy sigh, my phone pressed to my ear as I wait for Elise to answer her phone.

When all goes to hell, I just want to hear her voice and talk to her. I never really thought I would be the man that calls his girlfriend after a lengthy, terrible day, just to hear the sound of her soft-sounding voice. But, here I am, waiting for her to pick up so I can relax for five minutes.

“Hey Harry, how are you? How did it all go?” Elise instantly challenges as I slide my jacket down my arms and throw my hotel card to the table.

“Mmm, it was terrible, Niall and I were shot down with our proposal. We are going to try again because we don’t have a plan B. I don’t know what we are going to fucking do, I hate failing.” I huff, sitting on the edge of my bed, my hand running itself through my messy hair— wishing Elise was here with me. “But, I do have good news,” I mutter, my fingers tugging at my slight curls as I hear some shuffling on the other end of the phone.

“I am sorry, Harry. You will figure it out. What’s the news darling?” Elise questions and I smile to myself, managing to hear the echo of her heels hitting the flooring of the house.

For most, hearing the tone of heels on a marble floor would become bothersome, but for me, I love it. I guess it is strange, but I love overhearing her wandering across flooring, it is soothing to me. Maybe it is because in the dead silence of the house, catching her footsteps echoing gives me a sense of clarity, it means she is still here.

When I am home, on rare occasions, and she is working late with Logan, I toss and turn in the bed worrying about where she is and how she is doing, but the minute I hear the front door open and the sound of heels echoing against the flooring, I feel at ease.

“You should be proud, I didn’t end up in jail,” I inform Elise with a small chuckle, somewhat amused with myself. The ending of tonight could have been so much worse.

“Harry,” She draws out my name, “What do you mean?” I hear her sigh on the end of the phone, her heels no longer echoing.

“Charles Taylor showed up tonight, really felt like knocking the fuck out of him, but, I was reminded that my darling wife would be very upset if I was to end up in jail.”

“Mhmm, whoever reminded you is smart… What did you do? Are you okay?”

“Ehh, I kinda… may have… punched him out a few times… but he is still breathing, he is still standing, he is fine…. anyway, how are you? How are you feeling?” I mumble my first part of my sentence,

Elise sighs on the other end of the phone, not seeming too delighted by my small disagreement.

He deserved it, he is lucky to still be alive… I want his head served to me on a silver fucking platter, but that is illegal, so I have to settle with not putting him six feet into the fuckin ground… Elise should be proud of that,

“I am great.. Thank you for asking. You need to get some sleep and calm down so I will let you go, please try not to get yourself in trouble in the mean time. I don’t want to have to kiss you from behind bars.”

“Oh, ha ha, you are funny, ye’ should be a comedian, really.” I chuckle, “Alright darling, I love you. I will talk to you at some point tomorrow.”

“I love you, I miss you, Harry.”

“I know, I miss you too,” I respond back with a smile on my face, my heart fluttering and feeling warm when I hear that she misses me.

We aren’t that overly possessive, irritating couple that can’t be away from each other without breaking down, no, that isn’t us. But, when I am away on business trips there is a part of us that becomes a little softer and vulnerable.

I am not genuinely used to waking up on my own; I am usually blessed to have Elise fast asleep beside me by the time I am needing to get up, to say the least, my bed feels empty and cold without her. My arms were cold and bare as the sheets enveloped them last night.

I heavily huff, pushing the covers off my body and sitting up, my hands running through my hair as I come to terms with the fact that Niall and I have one last shot at this business deal.

I rush myself around the hotel room, losing track of time as I ponder over what the fuck I am going to do. Their whole account is perfect for me to have, it would be one of the most successful accounts I have to date. The Consolidated Underlying Holdings the account holds such value.

I hurry out my door and close it behind me, digging around in my pocket for my phone as it rings. I hope it isn’t my possible client cancelling.

*** ***

“Hey, Elle,” I answer my call as I close my hotel room door, trying to balance all my things,

“Hey, how are you?” her voice is soft and soothing as I walk towards the elevator,

“I am exhausted but good. I have my meeting; I am waiting on Niall. How are you?.”

“I am good, do you have time to talk?.” … Elise questions with her soft voice, something telling me that this conversation is not going to be a sweet, loving conversation.

“I have a few seconds.”

“What we discussed the other night, you could be right… I don’t know if it is just stress.” Elise quietly informs me, a sniffle managing to trail its way through the line as I grow silent, my eyes widening just as the elevator doors open and I am forced to step out. “Harry?” Elise’s voice breaks, my own words becoming hitched in my chest, “Are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am here, Elle,” I mumble, my head unable to fully wrap around the idea of her possibly being pregnant. When I mentioned it the other night, I was a bit unsure on whether I actually believed whether she was or not; I thought I should just pitch her the thought, just in case. Now, now that it is something coming from her lips, I feel as thought my breath has been drawn away from me and that the walls are closing in on me. “Uh.. uhm, okay..” I stutter, trying to focus as I walk the lobby of the hotel, “I-uh- are you okay? You said you were feeling better.” I manage to question, not knowing what the fuck I am meant to say.

“You sound as though you’re breathless, are you okay?” Elise challenges,

“Yeah, had to take the stairs,” I lie, “Don’t worry about me, okay. When I get back I will take you to wherever you need to go so we can find out.” I pull myself together, knowing that she is probably just as scared and worried as I am, and I am not even the one that has to carry the baby. “Hey, darling, I hate to have to do this, but I have to go… I have my meeting, uhm… we will sort it out, I love you, Elise.”

“Okay, good luck, I love you too.”

*** ***

I hang up the phone and shove it into my pocket, taking a deep breath as Niall reaches me and takes the file from my hand, his eyes scanning over the figures, my own managing to cast themselves on a small girl that is standing unobtrusively by her mother, a blanket in her hand that drapes to the floor.

The little girl, who seems no older than three presses her hand to her mother’s leg, wanting the attention. Her mother glances down, the little girl instantly holding her arms up wanting to be in her mother’s arms. She presses her cheek to her mother’s shoulder, her eyes beaming over at me as I stare in wonderment.

That could be Elise, holding our little girl or boy as they become drowsy, in need of a small morning nap to get them through the day. That could be me bouncing our child on my hip in the lobby of my building, giving Elise the morning off of the crying squeals of an infant, the gurgling mumbles filling my lobby with nothing but joy and happiness.

“Harry, did ye’ hear me?” Niall distracts me, snapping me out of my gaze and thoughts of a baby.

I look at him, clueless to what he said.

Walking from the Hotel to the conference building, all my eyes manage to see is babies, babies everywhere. Their wide eyes peering at me in an adoring way, they little legs and arms wiggling everywhere, they button noses, and their tiny bodies seem to catch my attention.

That could be me, walking down the street and carrying my bundle of joy in my arms while bundled up in fluffy blankets and adorable onesie clothes. I can only imagine how tiny the clothes would have to be when the baby is first born—so little and dainty.

Elise:

The minute I stroll through the door I feel a sigh of relief escape me. I take notice of the dim light in the living room radiating into the hallway and I smile to myself, quite pleased to finally have Harry home. I gingerly make my way into the living room, discovering him on the couch, asleep. I step out of my heels and shrug my coat off my shoulders, sliding it down my arms before I throw it to drape over the coffee table. I move closer to the couch, my eyes glancing down at Harry, his arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted to the side as his hair messily falls flat around his face— poor thing must be exhausted. I am so glad he is finally home. He was due home hours ago, but his flight was delayed so I didn’t get to meet him at the airport like planned.

I gingerly lower myself onto the couch, his body instantly stirring,

“Hey, love,” he mumbles, his arms immediately moving so I can relax on his chest, his voice deep and husky like.

“Hi,” I nestle into him, his luscious scent becoming inhaled as his arm wraps around me, “I know what I want for my birthday,” I whisper, feeling content for the first time since he has been gone.

“Mhm, what’s that my darling?” He drowsily questions while I cuddle into him, his warmth radiating me,

“A puppy,” I respond, feeling his chest rise as he chuckles,

“No,” .. “I like how the first thing you say to me is that you want a puppy, not that you love me or missed me.” His voice is raspy and full of exhaustion as his draws out his words in an extra slow tone.

“I missed you,” I murmur into his broad chest, his hand benevolently flowing through my hair, “quite a lot.” I carefully lift my head off of his chest, grinning down at him before I caress my lips to his, feeling every curve of his mouth for a moment.

“I missed you too, Elle.” He whispers against my soft lips,

“You never told me if you got the clients,” I whisper, curious as to whether he managed to win over the potential clients. Harry heavily sighs, his chest rising and falling, the quietness giving me my answer.

I nestle back down to rest on him, “it is okay, there will be other clients. I still love you, darling,” I assure him, his fingers still running through my hair soothingly,

“Mhm, I love you,” Harry hums, “We should go to bed,” he whispers, stopping me from falling asleep on him.

I hear Harry’s voice echoing from somewhere down the hallway as I leave my body tangled within the comfort of our freshly washed sheets.

“Elise, where the hell is my phone?” He steps into the room and immediately stops in his tracks, “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t know you were resting.” He lowers his voice, his eyes spontaneously glancing around the bedroom.

I give him a small smile and a nod, tugging at the comforter lightly to wrap it tighter around me. “I’ll be out of here in a second, it has to be in here.” He laments, doing his best to rummage through the bedroom in an unobtrusive manner— failing completely as he opens the drawers to his side table.

“You’re very quiet, Harry.” I chuckle in a joking style, concentrating as he smirks and promptly glances over towards me, “like I couldn’t have been quieter myself.” I tease, amused by his attempt to search silently for his phone.

“Alright, that’s enough from you. I have no idea where I left it. I haven’t had it since this morning.” He closes the drawer and glances back towards me before glimpsing towards the watch on his wrist. “It’s an odd time for you to be in bed, are you alright?”

“I could ask you the same question.” I grin, unsure of why he is home at this time. He just got in last night and I assumed he would be buried in his office until an ungodly hour.

“How so?” He tilts his head to the side,

“You’re not at work. You should be slaving away in your office.” I respond with a small smile.

He rolls his eyes playfully at me, his lips pursed into a firm line.

“Do you not agree?” I challenge, raising a brow with a small smirk across my lips.

Harry shakes his head, “You act as if I never come home.” He sighs, pressing his hands to his hips,

“Well, it is on rare occasions I see you before seven.” I softly respond,

“I’m a busy man.” He nods, “why are you cooped up in bed?”

I give him a small shrug, “Just tired and cold,”

“Mhm. Jackass tiring you out with his ridiculous excuse for a business?”

“Harry.” I sigh, “don’t start.” I warn, not in the mood to deal with the whole ‘Meyer Styles’ disagreement.

Harry gives me a grin, his eyes shining as he looks over at me, straightening his posture after closing another drawer, “Baby, want me to lie with you?” Harry offers sweetly, his proposal causing me to grin.

My brows knit in a frown,“Don’t you have to work?” I challenge,

With a cocky wink and confident smile, he reassures me, “Yeah, but I don’t feel like going back to the office. I’m going to shower.“ He crawls on the bed, leaning down and kissing me sweetly.

He draws away, his scintillating eyes dip to my décolletage.

“If that is your way of asking me to join, I am not getting up.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No, just wanted to kiss you, my darlin’.” He mumbles, crawling off the bed before wandering towards the bathroom, leaving me to leisurely fall asleep to the sound of the water flowing,

I hear a dismal huff escape from Harry as he closes the wardrobe doors, seeming somewhat irritated.

“What’s wrong?” I drowsily request, my eyes admiring his shirtless body, appreciating every curve and arch of his abs. His hair is damp and fluffy resembling, falling around his face perfectly to my liking.

“I can’t find my business hoodie.” Harry sighs, referencing the black hoodie that represents Styles & Co.

I draw the comforter higher up my body, doing my best to hide the Styles & Co. logo sketched into me.

I give Harry an innocent grin, having no desire to take his hoodie off and hand it to him. It’s smooth, comfortable, and most of all —it emanates like him. I feel content when wearing his clothes every now and again.

“I seem to have a clothes thief.” Harry clears his throat, his eyes narrowing down on me and I bat my eyes innocently at him.

I’m not stealing his clothes— I’m simply borrowing them for an unknown period of time, at some point I’ll put the hoodie back on his side of the wardrobe, freshly clean and smelling like the laundry detergent, but until then I’m borrowing it.

“Baby, I ordered you your own business hood, why don’t you wear it?” Harry graciously requests, beginning to pick his dirty clothes up off the floor, placing them in the dirty laundry basket.

“Yours is better.” I shrug, my eyes once again trailing towards Harry’s perfectly flawless frame.

“Elise, they’re exactly the same.” Harry chuckles, picking his phone up off the bed and glancing down at it.

I beg to differ, the hoodies are not the same. One is infused with Harry’s scent, and one is infused with my own— I much prefer his lingering scent.

“They’re different. I like yours.” My hands pull at the comforter, my body getting cozy within the bed,

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll just stay shirtless.” Harry smiles, causing me to smirk. I could never dispute a shirtless boyfriend— I mean fiancé; I like him with clothes off, there’s no doubt about it. “Are you okay? You’re very quiet.” He changes the subject, “And you only wear my clothes when I am gone for too long, you’re extremely cold, or when you’re a little down. Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

He brings a smile to my face as I softly giggle at his comment.

I shake my head, “No, you don’t need to kick anyone’s ass.” I respond and he nods, entering the bathroom.

Harry shuffles out of the bathroom, the pregnancy box I accidentally left in there, now in his hand, “Elle? Do you have something to tell me? Is this why you’re curled up in bed? Do I need to sit down?” Harry softly questions, his face seeming a bit pale. He stares at me, bringing into view the test. The test that reads positive.

I shake my head, “negative, Harry.” I respond, adjusting my position in the bed.

“Are you sure? Because this says positive, Elise.” He comments, “Elle, I need to know if you’re pregnant, it’s okay. I’m not going to run or anything, I can handle it. I just… I want to know whether I’ll be a Dad.” He trails off, his eyes dropping to look at the positive test resolution in his hand. “I’m okay with being a Dad… this says positive and you’re telling me you’re not. I’m… I’m conflicted here, Elle. ” He breathes out with a soft voice, his hand shaking as it holds the test.

I sit up in the bed, the comforter falling to my hips. I sigh with a small pout, “I’m not pregnant.” I shake my head, watching his every expression.

“But—but this says you are.” He refers again to the stick,

“It’s a false positive.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should get a test that isn’t from a convenient store box.” He comments, his eyes staring at me with nothing but confusion and worry.

“Harry, I’m in bed because I just got my period. I’m not pregnant, Darling.” I inform him, watching as he sighs and stares down at the test before he walks back to the bathroom.

I can only assume he’s throwing the tests out.

He steps back in, his lips at first staying pursed into a fine line before he breaks the silence between us,

“Well, at least you’re not pregnant.” He shrugs, “That wasn’t sympathetic of me, sorry.” He mumbles, “want me to lie with you for a bit? Come on, let me under the covers.” He benevolently stretches at the covers, sliding between them and moving closer to me.

"Harry, are you upset about this?” I softly challenge, unable to get the look of his face out of my imagination— the look he had when I told him I received my period. He seemed shocked, but for a split second when he was staring at the test, there was a crooked grin in the corner of his lips, his eyes for a moment glistening a bit brighter.

He doesn’t respond, and the room stays quiet as I feel his chest rising and falling, his arms around me. “Harry?”

“We don’t need a baby right now, things are too hectic and we aren’t married yet.” He responds, not giving an answer but more of a statement.

It is evident we do not need a baby, but the question I am wanting to ask is— does he want one?

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“I don’t know, Elle… since you called me and told me there was a chance, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like for us to have a baby… I was walking the streets and I felt like everyone around me had a child and I just… I—I kept wondering about us having a baby.” …. “I know a baby isn’t ideal by any means and that we probably aren’t ready right now, but the idea of a baby kinda scares the fuck out of me, but also makes me feel warm inside…. I think a baby is something I’d want once we are married.” Harry informs me, keeping me nestled into him with his warmth. "What do you think?” Harry clears his throat.

When my eyes saw the positive sign, I went blank, my mind went utterly vague— I found myself crying on the bathroom floor.

“I just don’t think a baby is something I can handle,” I mumble, unsure of how I truly feel, my mind reminding me of yesterday when I took the test. “Maybe it is something to discuss when we are married and in a different place. Maybe when we both aren’t working so much?” I respond, coming to a conclusion that the topic of a baby should be brought up once we are married and not so caught up in the world of business.

*** ***

I stand in Harry’s office waiting for him to stand from his desk so we can leave for the business dinner that we must attend. I had other plans in mind for tonight, but he had to ruin them by informing me of a dinner.

“Can we maybe skip the dinner?” I offer while he’s sliding his jacket up his arms, my fingers pressed to the file in my hand that I managed to sneak away from Logan.

I was rummaging around in Logan’s office when his secretary was meant to be going through files. For some reason, he had her do my job, (I am not complaining because I still get paid), but it did make me curious.

I managed to coax her into going across the street to buy coffee, buying me at least fifteen minutes in Logan’s office without anyone knowing. I searched the obvious places before I remembered all the times I saw Harry pulling things from the most random of places, such as, but not limited to— inside the plant that I forced him to have in his office for decoration, taped under the third shelf of his large bookcase he once pulled a file, and one time he had things hid in the lamp shade without anyone noticing. He can be crafty and sneaky, to say the least.

I found the file with Harry’s name on it taped under Logan’s desk, the place I managed to look, the last place I had left in mind after scouring the whole damn office in under fifteen minutes.

“Why?” Harry questions, unsure of why I would want to skip a free dinner,

“Kinda have other plans in mind,” I whisper, biting down on my lip as he raises a brow, reading my eyes, understanding my intentions, my wants, my needs.

“Do you still have bruises?” He questions and I shrug, “let me see your back.” He instructs, being sweet and protective.

I turn around and he discreetly lifts up my top, allowing it to fall back down over me, “Nope, you have bruises still.” He shakes his head, grabbing his keys from his desk,

“Harry, come on.” I whine, “do you not find me attractive anymore?”

“You’re still as attractive as the day I first laid my eyes on you.” Harry assures me, “can I have that file?” He smiles, his lips pursing into a straight line when I shake my head,

“Harry, you’re depriving me— so I’m going to deprive you.” I hide the folder behind my back, concentrating as he furrows his eyebrows before letting out a chuckle.

“Depriving you? Hm.” He hums with a wide and cocky grin.

“Do you know how long it has been since I’ve actually orgasmed?” I quietly question, his eyes narrowing down on me.

His lips prime into a line, insulted and unamused by my comment, “Oi, you’re making it sound like I’m horrible in bed.” He comments, trying to reach around me to get the file but I step away,

“You haven’t touched me since the night I got the fucking bruises. Three weeks; I promise I won’t shatter to pieces.” I inform him, “and before that, you went gently because you didn’t want to have me quivering. So, that’s almost two months.” I continue, his arms crossing over his chest as he listens to me ramble on about out currently non-existent sex life.

He cocks his head and arches a sly brow,“You’re sexually frustrated,” he chuckles, “it’s cute. Tell ya what. Give me that file, and after dinner, we can make love.” Harry proposes, “do you think you can wait that long?” He winks, stepping closer and brushing his lips against my own,

“Maybe,” I mumble, bringing the file to rest in front of us,

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He takes the file from my hand with a slow and sexy smile painted across his mouth.

“He already knows my file is missing, don’t you think he will catch on if this goes missing too?” I ask Harry, gesturing towards the file with all of Harry’s details in it.

“You’re going to put the file back when I’m done,” Harry informs me, standing straighter and smoothing his tie before taking my hand with his and leading us out of his office, not allowing me to ask any more questions regarding the file…

*** ***

I sit at the dinner and sigh, unamused by all the conversations about business, my fingers drumming to my thigh as I try to pass the time in a quick manner.

To be quite honest, I don’t care. I don’t give a damn about any of it, right now all I care about is the handsome man sitting in front of me—the one who seems to have deprived me for far too long.

A cheeky notion pops into my mind and I smirk as I slip my foot out of my heel, subtly raising it under the table to glide up Harry’s leg.

He flicks his eyes up towards me, eyes rolling skyward, his lips pursing into a fine line while I snicker to myself, everyone else far too busy worrying about a business conversation taking place.

I urge my foot past the curve of Harry’s knee, sliding it over his thigh, amused as I watch his jaw clench and his eyes widen. He clears his throat, gazing at me keenly— sexual frustration crinkled in his eyes.

I take him further by surprise when I push my foot to brush over his bulge, arousing it as I innocently stare at him, slamming his eyes shut for a brief moment. His arousal becoming an opiate I have no wish to kick. He gulps, his arousal compressing further against my foot before I delicately and subtly rub my foot against him, absorbing the feel of him—torturing him under the table.

I continue to allow my foot to explore the texture of his pants and the increasing bulge that touches the tip of my toes and gradually glides down the base of my foot with every move I make. His erection bumping against the tender touch of my foot as I give him a naughty smile that has him imagining things other than business.

The bold caress of my foot becomes unbearable for Harry as I breach his every defence— my foot coaxing him to abandon his current position across from me.“Niall, can we swap seats? I’d like to sit with Elise.” Harry clears his throat, speaking to Niall who is sat right beside me, a beer in his hand.

Without any questions, Harry is taking the seat beside me, his arm draping around my chair, his lips pressing to my ear without hesitation.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he informs me and I shrug, having no remorse for the doings of my foot.

He teases his hand on my thigh, his thumb rubbing circles on my inner thigh and squeezing lightly as he engages in conversation. I take a look at the time and do my best to use it to my advantage. I rest my head on Harry’s shoulder, a subtle hint that I want to leave.

To my bitter and sexually frustrated disappointment, he doesn’t take the hint, not all.

I sigh heavily, moving my hand to rest on his bulge, no longer being subtle with my advancements. He clears his throat, yet again before I feel a kiss to the top of my head.

“Patience, darlin’” he mumbles just for the two of us to hear, causing me to pout when I don’t get my own way.

I have been patient long enough.

I give up and remove my hand from his desire, settling with continuing to rest my head on his shoulder, taking note of how another girlfriend is doing the same with her business boyfriend who seems to be far too interested in the conversation with Niall.

Harry stands to his feet and takes his jacket off, placing it over my lap like a blanket, before he kisses my cheek.

“Aren’t you cute, keeping her warm… See, I told you he had a heart, Niall.” Anastasia chuckles, playfully nudging Niall— something tells me that the two of them sitting together may inflict a relationship.

“Niall, you could learn a few tips. Maybe then Anastasia will say yes to a date.” Harry winks, taking his seat back beside me, Niall instantly blushing and muttering under his breath, changing the subject.

Harry carefully shifts his hand under his jacket, his hand resting back on my thigh comfortably, his warm hand becoming even more pleasing. He squeezes my thigh and inches his hand higher, his fingers dancing over the zip of my jeans, my body stiffening at the sudden occurrence.

He can not be serious.

I take a breath as his lips kiss my cheek, “you okay?” I hear him mumble, a question he’s asking for reassurance and the go-ahead to continue to leave his hand resting where it is.

I nod, a saucy grin inviting his touch. I take a breath as I feel his fingers discreetly push the zip of my jeans down, popping the button at ease.

I can’t believe he’s serious. This is inappropriate— so inappropriate— but I don’t want him to stop.

It’s not like anyone can see.

“Can you stay quiet?” He whispers benevolently, his hand slipping into my pants, gliding over my lace lingerie, testing the waters with me. I nod, the fire burning in my soul putting my morals to flame as I allow him to continue.

His fingers dance around the edges of my undergarments, teasing me to the maximum instead of getting straight to the point. Tampering with my sanity with each slow motioned glide outside the lace.

He gradually slides his hand over me, fucking with me over my underwear, showing me no remorse.

He takes his time— his voice steady as he seems involved in conversation while his hand fucks with my sanity. I clear my throat and do my best to pretend to listen to the conversations, completely failing with his tender touching coaxing me to abandon all thoughts but one.

He takes me by surprise when he finally gives in, pushing inside me, circling inside me at ease, igniting a further passion brewing inside my body.

It’s been so long, too long.

I feel my breaths getting heavy as I stay withdrawn; my feet curling in my shoes as my hand grips the edge of my seat, a sigh escaping me instead of a groan.

I focus on keeping my lips pursed into a straight line, my head spinning with every circular motion he inflicts on me, butterflies rising inside me as I arch my back slightly in my chair. Unchaining wild, delicious feelings rattling my cage as I do my best to breathe.

I pick up my drink and sip on the straw, needing something to keep my mouth occupied as he slides upwards, relentlessly moving, dipping, swirling and circling around, adding pressure and trying to find the one spot.

A familiar hot longing squeezes inside me, his motions already spinning my raging emotions into a chaotic mess.

I let out a breath as I arch my back again slightly, allowing him easier access as I breathe out, pressure thrusting inside me with every long and slow motion that closes me tighter around him. His fingers abruptly thrust and hit me in the perfect spot, causing me to choke on my drink—instead of groaning.

“Darlin’ you alright?” He questions like a caring, soon to be husband, his fingers removing themselves from me carefully, as I catch my breath.

I nod, smiling at everyone around us as their eyes follow with concern as they stare at me.

I can’t believe he fucking did that. Fucking tease.

I assure everyone I’m fine before the attention is no longer on me and on the topic of conversation that Harry and I have managed to disconnect ourselves from.

I clear my throat and move my hands to subtly button my jeans under Harry’s jacket, before I carefully stand to my feet, excusing myself to the bathroom.

When I exit, I am surprised to see Harry leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest with a smug grin on his face— a cocky smile dangled on the corner of his lips.

“I fucking hate you.” I murmur as I still feel the butterflies in my stomach, my legs feeling shaky from his small teasing at the table.

“Why?” He pushes off the wall and I step closer to him, my hand crushing against his chest. I lean up and whisper, “my jeans are fucking wet, no thanks to you.” He chuckles, his hand settling to rest in the small of my back, putting on a small embrace of a show for anyone who may see.

“You started it… want to go back and finish dinner?” He proposes with a cheeky tone to his voice.

“I want to pin you against this wall and take every fill of you, but my morals and senses are coming back to me— so that is inappropriate,” I whisper into his ear, “so, yes. Let’s go back to dinner and hurry it the fuck up, please.” I continue before I gingerly move to gaze at him, a cocky grin painted across his lips.

He offers me his hand and I shake my head, “I washed my hands,” he mutters, lacing our fingers together as we walk back towards the table, Niall and Anastasia standing to their feet.

I raise a brow, watching as Niall grabs her coat and helps her slide it up her arms, “I wonder what they’re doing?” Harry whispers into me,

“The same thing we are,” I chuckle, “leaving,” I continue, not giving him room to dispute my wants and my needs.

Harry politely smiles as Niall and Anastasia announce their goodbyes, filling the table with a few ‘awes’ to escape the others’ lips. I gently nudge Harry, hinting for him to say our goodbyes as well. He gives me a teasing grin before listening, politely excusing us on both of our behalfs.

*** ***

The drive to his building felt longer than usual, we can blame the raging desire brewing between us for that.

To my surprise, it was him who mentioned spending the night at the penthouse because it was closer; I like his thinking, he is finally deciding on not depriving me and not making me wait any longer.

He opens the door of his Audi and offers his hand to help me out, a grin pressed across his luscious apple red lips— lips that I want to attack and taste every corner and edge of.

We step up the steps to the golden trim, glass doors’ of his building. He presses they access keys and uses his card before the doors unlock and allow us in. The doors’ close behind us, a chill spreading through me as the automatic lights flicking on, lighting up the exposed and abandoned Lobby.

“Harry, you should invest in a bloody heating system,” I mumble, tightening my jacket around me, his arm snaking around my lower back,

“Oh, ha, ha. It is always cold down here when I get in,” He responds as my heels echo against the flooring as we make our way towards the elevator.

His fingers press against my jacket, drawing small circles on the small of my back, keeping me intrigued and eager for what awaits when we get upstairs to the penthouse. I bite my lip, my eyes watching as the numbers decrease before the elevator light kindles and the doors slide open.

We step inside and I stand in the middle as Harry steps and swipes his card, pressing the floor to the penthouse. He turns to face me, his lips suddenly attacking mine as he considerately pushes me against the back wall, his hand gliding around my body to rest in the small of my back as our tongues dip and swirl, our bodies struggling to keep their distance with every luscious tasting action. I press my hands to his neck, beckoning him like a siren’s song, his hands gingerly pressing in the small of my back, pushing our bodies closer, allowing his erection to cushion against me.

The doors open and he drags his mouth from mine with a heavy sigh, his eyes full of desire as he stares at me for a moment. He allows me to step out first, my heels sounding until I reach the carpeted hallway. I turn on my heel to wait on Harry. I go to continue walking but I am stopped when his hands rest on my waist, drawing me back into him, a deep primitive tug that signaled the casual walk to the penthouse was going to be far from casual. He spins me around, my hands hitting his chest as our bodies pressed together, a small chuckle escaping my lips before I find my mouth attached to his firm male lips that know what they are doing. His hands travel to cup my behind— heart-shaped ass begging a squeeze, “jump,” he mumbles against me, hauling me up to wrap my legs around his torso, our lips reconnecting, my hands traveling all around as he walks us towards the door. The two of us focused on the sensation of our tongues dipping and swirling, the slow, passionate, kisses between us. A long, liquid kiss that rushed lust through my body, leaving me wanting more and more with each moment.

He keeps me hoisted up as his hand presses his card to unlock the door before he pushes the door open with ease, stepping inside and shutting it behind him with his foot.

He carefully places me down, my feet instantly sliding from my heels, my agile hands forcing his jacket down his arms and allowing it to collapse to the floor with ease. We step around his jacket, stumbling our way down the hallway, our mouths attached, our hands desperately trying to pry our clothes off. We stumble into the wall, my back hitting, “Sorry,” he pulls away, looking at me with wide eyes. I shake my head, my smoldering eyes drawing him in as I slide upwards against him, a groan escaping his lips before he is prying my shirt off of my body, throwing it to the floor. He grins, his chest rising as he takes a deep breath, his eyes dipping to my chest, admiring the new lace cupped at my boobs. Without taking his eyes from me, he flicks open his buttons one by one, somewhat teasing me.

I breathe out and press my hands to his pants, unbuttoning them gradually, my hand accidentally managing to glide across him, earning myself a small groan at my touch.

We stumble again, forcing our wild, reckless and restless mood to shuffle closer to the bed. I launch him against the wall as we round the corner into our bedroom—my lips parting his to rain kisses over his silky skin— his scent rising to torment me, my head spinning as I bite down benevolently on his skin, his hands unbuttoning my jeans— the last piece of clothing to not have made it to the floor.

The enraged desire and anticipation rise with every rich, sensational kiss his lips allow.

I move my rained kisses to follow his torso, crossing over the beautiful landscape of plains, tight abs and soft skin, carefully pressing my knees to the flooring, his eyes peering down at me delighted with my excited anticipation. I circled his hard length with my hands, exploring the texture of his shaft. I press my hand at the base of him, enthralling my with his touch, my lips kissing the tip of him fascinated with the soft roundness of him— the head of his staff nudges at the feathery strokes of my tongue— his breaths unsteady while his hands are tangled within my hair. Pleasure licks at his lips as I go further, taking him between my lips, “Elle,” His husky voice whispers a want and need. The familiar hot longing squeeze of my hand on at his base sends his eyes to close shut in ecstasy, his body holding back the groans as he continues to grow.

Shuddering with desire he lets out a groan, his hand moving from the strands of my hair, resting on my shoulder. “Fuck, you’re good.” He mutters as he squeezes my shoulder, my mouth slowly descending down his shaft one last time, the feather stroke of my tongue captivating him one last time.

He helps me back up to my feet, wasting no time with pushing me to the bed, hot and ready to get down to business, his hands tugging my black skinny leg jeans off of me, leaving them no remorse as he throws them to the floor.

He takes bold possession of my mouth, feeling every curve as his hand reaches down, the silken length of my thigh becoming graced by his hand, his fingers dancing delicately on the inner face of my thigh, my head already spinning as he inches higher, drawing down the lace underwear, enthralling me with his touch, sliding a finger in and beginning to dip and surge like he did in the restaurant. “Breathe, relax.” He draws away from the kiss, mumbling against my lips, my fingers pressed into his silken curls, “Elle, relax,” he again instructs, sliding another finger in, forcing a moan from my wet lips at his heart-stopping tenderness.

My toes curl into the sheets as I feel his every long motion, his name leaving my lips in small whimpers.

He knows how to work those damn fingers perfectly. Everything about him is damn potent, he is the kind of man that causes women to hyperventilate… and if he continues these head spinning motions, I might just hyperventilate.

I breathe heavily, my fingers already digging into his bare skin as I throw my head back against the pillows, his name moaning from my lips. He grins, his eyes staring into mine before he skims his tongue over my lips, causing me to whimper when he uses them to tease me. He thrusts and circles his fingers one last time, a loud moan leaving my trembling lips, my head literally spinning.

He grasps my knees and eases them apart, anticipation so keen as he crowns his thighs at my hips, his package, plumb and swollen bumps against me before he’s at my entrance, sliding in slowly. Probing in a slow repetitive rhythm he takes my breath away, his mouth kissing mine, the chain of his necklace dangling over me, lightly pressing to my warm chest, “Relax, Elle.” He groans, “Fuck, you’re tight, relax sweetheart.” He breathes, my body tightening around him as he thrusts and I raise my body to press into his, my hands gripping him, the long, gradual, ride of delight silencing the deep hunger inside me.

Our tongues dip and swirl in sweet motions, my fingers digging into his back, his strength throbbing inside me at a faster pace — transcending physical pleasure. He breaches my every defense, taking my breath away. Gravelly words uttered against his flesh with every rippling momentum. He kisses the slender column of my throat before he relentlessly moves my hips against his. Heat and power radiate between our warm bodies, bodies eager to feel every inch of each other, bodies filled with a hot longing desire. We both work together to create a fulfillment of passion and love. Unchaining wild, delicious feelings reach unbearable heights, both of us moaning into each other, my breath getting lost every few moments with his hard length throbbing inside me, my legs already beginning to quiver. “Breathe,” his lips skim my trembling lips, as tremors rise in the wake of him breaching my every defense, the surge of his possession catching me in the right spot.

I arch my back to better accept him, tensing as he goes deeper, my chest rising rapidly, my head spinning climax coming at me in drugging waves. Buried in my sweet heat, my eyes narrow to half mast. A passionate tide overtakes the onslaught of raw physical desire as he releases and fills me; my head falls back with a heavy breath escaping my lips. He gives me one last long, liquid kiss that rushes lust through me before he falls to my side.

I stare up at the ceiling, my head spinning as my body slows down and begins to rest, my thighs quivering with heat.

“You deserve some credit,” I cough, “That was the best damn orgasm of my life,” I comment, his chuckle instantly filling the room,

“I am pleased,” he laughs, “only took, what is it? five and a half years?”

“About damn time, huh?” I joke, closing my eyes as I take a few deep breaths, my head spinning. Harry pulls the sheet over the two of us, the warm sheet pressing over my sweaty body.

“I love you,” I breathe out, shifting to face him, his head tilting to shine his gray eyes at me,

“I love you, too.” He whispers, kissing my lips lightly…

What do you guys think? :) xx

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nevospitanniy · 7 years

Text

Rambly Teen Wolf/Big Wolf On Campus meta

Preface this by saying I didn’t expect to actually get into TW. This show kicked me in the teeth, balls and every organ I do and do not possess. If I’m going to be any degree of helpful, I need some structure up in here. Fair warning, it’s just like my opinion man.

1. Characters

Tommy is Scott. A werewolf with a heart of gold that cares deeply about people around him. It’s explored much more in depth with TW, duh - they had more seasons, more money and a higher age rating, using more drama and angst. But the outline is definitely there: they are both introduced to the fantastic world of lycanthropy by their extremely knowledgeable and helpful buddies (Merton/Stiles respectively), can be shitty to their best friends (Tommy throwing Merton under the bus to save his popularity/Scott abandoning Stiles for Allison multiple times), take on the role of the designated savior of the town from supernatural threats, prefer non-lethal methods, are Alphas (Tommy’s status could be contested, I guess, but the show never put an actual emphasis on pack dynamics, probably they thought it was too odd of a concept to start explaining because then you have to get to the whole omega part and that is c o m p l i c a t e d), fight organized evil!werewolves, had two main love interests, none of which held up (yeah, weaksauce, but I thought I’d still put it out there), kinda subpar in academics but good athletes. Scott gets so much more actual character development it’s not even funny, while Tommy just sort of meanders in what he has and gets dumbed down a lot for seasons 2/3.

Merton is Stiles, no shit. A nerd best friend, a friend in need more importantly, a loyal (mostly) spastic (very) companion. Dynamic between sciles and tommerton (platonically) is quite different because of how their backstories differ - after all, Scott and Stiles have known each other since forever, while Tommy pays attention to Merton only after being bitten, when they become friends almost out of necessity. But there is no denying that all four of them, in their respective duos, are joined at the hip, oftentimes with an inclusion of a girl to break up their awesome bromance (Allison/Lori and Stacy). Merton/Stiles go unappreciated for their efforts a lot, especially if you consider they are human and yet get into the same exact shit as fast and durable werewolves, surviving by wits, last ditch effort loyalty change (Merton) or a fear override (Stiles) and saving the day half of the time because they actually do research. Both seem to have a penchant for magic (unsubtly implied but never expanded upon for Stiles), both are comedic reliefs, even if in slightly different ways as commanded by the genre, both are excellent students, both are mostly unsuccessful with women and ambiguously bi/pan/omni, if you consider the technically non-human options. Complicated family relationships. Both have abandonment/commitment issues, both room (jury is still out there for sciles because of 6b) with their best friends in college. As for notable differences, Stiles undergoes a massive character transformation, a monumental shift, I’d say - not exactly doing a 180, but inching closer than any other character to actual plot relevant growth, and not for better, which is a rarity. Merton’s personality also changes for the worse, but it’s a result of clumsy writing and forced female presence in the shows plot as a romantic crutch. It would be interesting if fan meta on Merton’s less ehh flattering moments was expanded upon and explained in the series; what I wouldn’t give for an actual quality heart to heart between Tommy and Merton Ike every show nowadays seems to have in abundance, where they call each other out on their issues.

Women are more complicated. There are no exact parallels, barring the very basic archetypes, which would do no justice to any of the four, namely Allison and Lydia for TW and Lori and Stacy for BWOC. But yes, Allison is close to Lori - a fighter, someone who can take it and dish it out. Problem with Lydia/Stacy comparison is that it breaks down as soon as Lydia gets a sliver of character development, because at first, her queen bee status definitely resonated with Stacy, but while she was put on a bus without any real involvement in the show’s plot, Lydia becomes downright plot essential.

2. Writing

BWOC had an incredible season 1, with select episodes of season 2 being very good and, well, we don’t talk about season 3. Point being, even with the constraints of a cheap Canadian show for kids it managed some genuine brilliance, I’m sure in a big way thanks to the chemistry between cast members (specifically the two of consequence). Monster Of The Week format certainly seemed to work well for them, and I will forever mourn the loss of all the potential arcs and plot twists that never saw the light of day. TW had the privilege of, despite a mediocre display in season 1, becoming popular enough to spawn 5 more seasons, and I think they definitely had very strong moments, most of them carried on the back of Dylan O'Brien, like void!Stiles, relationship between him and his dad, and yes, his relationship with Derek, which turned out to be largely inconsequential to the plot (writers queerbaited the f u c k out of its audience and then just did nothing of worth with the pairing, BUT THATS HARDLY RELEVANT). I don’t know whether Peter Knight is just that good or the innocent nature of BWOC lends itself to less complicated plots and finished stories, but most BW episodes were microcosms, closed systems that had little bearing on any overarching storylines. They provided closure, well-defined villains and good guys, which is a very appealing quality, if a touch simplistic. I admit, I would’ve liked to see something with more “depth” and conflict, but the restrictions of the channel/network/rating are nothing to sneeze at. TW on the other hand ties almost every episode into another, weaving a continuous storyline. Personally, I think they should’ve done more one off episodes to break up the monotony of waiting for action set pieces. You need some hella witty dialogue to keep people watching while fuck all is happening and they sort of failed at that (again, Stiles carried most of the comedy). Almost everyone in BWOC is uniquely likable; TW has a much bigger cast so they definitely had ups and down as far as character writing was concerned.

Main problem with this whole disjointed comparison is how you can’t compare things that aren’t on the same level. It’s not a dig at quality or anything, but TW had 6 seasons and a huge budget, while BW barely got 3. TW and BWOC kinda started in a similar vein, but boy do they differ. That being said, I have an inkling that BW may have ended up looking a lot like TW in different circumstances - if it was made at a later date, on another channel, with a different rating/audience in mind. But then again, a lot of good things BW is liked for are a direct result of these aforementioned “hurdles” - all the double entendres would never fly for a tv-14 rated show, its generally cheerful and uplifting tone was probably required by the network and being a child of the 90s it carried a lot of charm that would be borderline impossible to fabricate now if they wanted to keep the ~aesthetic. So I can only compare real TW with hypothetical BWOC that got a bigger budget and more screentime. But doing that makes NO SENSE, so imma just finish with some general thoughts about the direction show might’ve gone.

I genuinely think that in different circumstances, Merton could’ve had a wonderfully dark character development. He’s a non-violent character, but does have this morbid curiosity that could’ve put him eventually in a position to cause grievous bodily harm to someone. He seems to get off on power play (both having power over someone and surrendering it), and that’s a slippery slope for an emotionally tender and damaged character. Tommy is his rock in a number of ways, his human connection outlet, a more teen oriented show would, of course, use his ‘scars’ to carry the narrative of overcoming tragedy. Merton does the same for Tommy, being his emotional support, because how liberating it must be to not hide his werewolf side and he could do it literally with 1 (one) person before Lori came into focus. Queerbait aside, their relationship was great, a deep involved friendship, and with Tommy being so resistant to evilness and Merton being so easily corruptible, they could’ve played off this contrast in a way more interesting than what we saw in s3.

I also would’ve loved to see some female characters that aren’t barely two-dimensional; Stacy was, in one word, confused - we know very little of her actual personality, aside from her feminism rhetoric and an allergy to committed relationships. Lori was ‘the action girl’, and she got a slightly bigger piece of pie, but still not nearly enough. Fuck, I don’t even know if the show passes a Bechdel test. TW showed us actual fleshed out female friendships that weren’t toxic or competitive, would’ve been nice to see something of the sort in BWOC.

#teen wolf #big wolf on campus #readme.txt

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theultravioletcatastrophe · 7 years

Note

From the aesthetic ask meme: ALL OF THEM. You're welcome.

ALRIGHTY THEN! Let’s see if I can put this under a break so I don’t clog up anyone’s dash.

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?Earlier today. I’m always singing to myself! Today it was probably a song from Moana because my daughter was listening to the soundtrack and those songs just get stuck in my head, y’know?

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?Honestly? I want to know the true nature of physical reality. Like, quantum physics can’t be the full picture because there’s a couple places where it’s either broken or incomplete, but so far we haven’t figured out what should replace it as a theory. I wanna know the truth about the universe.

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?I wanna say my daughter, but to be quite honest my wife is definitely more responsible for how she turned out than I am, so I can’t really say that. I guess my other greatest accomplishment is retaining some scrap of sanity and decency in this awful world that seems to want to destroy itself at every possible opportunity.

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?I don’t think you can call this a “memory” since it literally just happened, but I finished watching Mysterious Girlfriend X and honestly it made me so happy. Despite the fact that it only covered about half the manga it had a much more satisfying ending, somehow.

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?I mean, probably? I’d probably make an effort to be kinder and more loving. I’d do more to help people. I’d try to save up every cent I could to ensure my family doesn’t have nothing when I’m gone.

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?Ehh, not really, not in the sense most people usually use that term. I wanna go to space though. :D

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.I wanna describe my mom, but it’s going to make me sad, so I don’t want to right now. Sorry. :(

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?Yes and no. My parents had a pretty awful divorce when I was about 7, and things stayed weird until I was in high school. But like… I remember being happy and stuff, so…

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?Last night, when my wife was talking about being sad. I just felt so helpless, like I couldn’t do anything for her, and it made me really sad too.

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.My wife. I shouldn’t have to explain why. :) (I mean gosh come on her url is literally @youwillfindmestargazing)

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?I have! Some of the best conversations I’ve had have been with strangers at parties. There’s something so intimate about sitting on a bench on someone’s back porch talking about deep stuff with someone you’ve known for 20 minutes, while people inside are blasting music and screaming, and someone is throwing up in the bushes off to the side.

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?Oh geez, I don’t have many of those anymore. It was probably with my friend @aboutthreeneps who is one of my best friends ever and I love him. :3

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?“I want you to know how much I love you, and I want you and mama to look after each other, okay?” (which I would say to my daughter)

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?Um, they’re fine? I don’t really care that much about people’s eye colour lol

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.“[A]lways looked to be a man of action, ‘cause that’s what the old man should have been, but… this world, it wore him out. This world, it wears you out.” This quote is from the song “Man of Action” by Matthew Good Band. This song is basically my theme song and if you’ve been following me for any length of time, you probably understand why.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?“A Short Study in Fooling Yourself and Everyone Around You”

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?I would immediately put half of it into some kind of guaranteed investment like a GIC or even a TFSA if the interest rate was good enough. This would supply my income to live on for the entire rest of my life. The other half would be blown extravagantly on stupid shit I don’t need but really want (and also I’d give a bunch to family and friends and to charity, I’m not a total asshole).

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?Yes, and yes. It means you get hurt more often, but it kinda makes things easier.

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.Dear Earl, you’re not gonna believe this, but I’m you from 21 years in the future. Listen: don’t waste time pining over Leah or Connie or Katie, it’s not worth it. When you finish high school, learn a skilled trade. Don’t mess things up like I did. Try not to be a disappointment to your mom, and tell her you love her. Most importantly, get organized, manage your time, and DON’T PROCRASTINATE. Sincerely, you, but with more experience.

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?I’m… definitely not punk lol. I’m not really pastel, either, though.

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.I like them to a point. Just… don’t go overboard and you’re fine.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?Nope! Mostly due to the fact that society looks down upon masculine-presenting people wearing makeup, but partly also because I have no idea what would look good on my gross face. :P

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way.Well, I mean, Sithu Aye has absolutely been a very positive force in my life ever since I discovered him about a year ago. Please give him a listen, he makes the happiest metal music in the world (without the disgusting vocals!). You can get his entire discography for 30 quid right now! What a steal!

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.“Please stop exploiting other people, the animals, and the earth, because if we keep going like this there’s not going to BE an earth much longer.”

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.Other than going to see our city’s symphony orchestra play, I’ve only ever been to a Marianas Trench concert (well, technically, I’ve been to 3 of them). The symphony shows are always amazing but the Trench shows were a total blast. What a great band to see live. I’m actually wearing a shirt I got at their last concert right now!

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?I want to receive a letter from the Queen, signed also by the Governor-General and the Prime Minister, authorizing me to do whatever the hell I want for the rest of my life, as long as I’m in Canada.

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?Well, I’m sitting at a desk right now, and it’s a disaster. I have a desk at work as well, which is a bit more organized, but still quite a mess lol.

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?Browse tumblr until it’s way past my bedtime, brush my teeth while either browsing tumblr some more or reading manga on my phone, crawl into bed and become unconscious for usually no more than 6 hours. Ugh.

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?Nothing, really. My dad and I are pretty chill with each other and I don’t think there’s any secrets I’d want to keep from him (not that I’m going to go telling him everything though, haha). And, well, it’s not like my mom can find out anything she hadn’t already known, so… :x

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?If I HAD to? I’d go with some crazy cool colour like purple or blue. I’d style it the same way it is now, which is that I towel it off after a shower and flatten out any parts that stick up. Actually, if I had purple hair, I probably wouldn’t even do that. :P

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?My wife, my daughter, my IRL friend Ashley, and my tumblr friends Cody and Rachel (yes, you, Rachel). We’d go to a farm just outside town and pick strawberries, and then we’d all have a nice picnic in a field somewhere.

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them.-infinite money (should be obvious why)-a hammerspace bag (should also be obvious)-your freedom, Genie (because I’m not a butt)

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.Hmm, I’d have to say the mad scientist costume I did when I was in university. I wore my lab coat from chem lab, I styled my hair to stick straight up from my head (and used this weird hair spray paint stuff to make it silver), and I would burst into rooms going “BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?I don’t think I’ve ever done anything really awful while drunk or high. I mean, I don’t normally get drunk/high enough to the point where I start doing truly stupid things. I guess the worst was that time my friend Cory and I split a 26er of vodka between us in the span of like… half an hour, and then we proceeded to smoke a joint of nothing but kief with a bunch of other people. I got WAY too wasted and ended up throwing up on the floor of the guy’s dining room (and afterwards was still too wasted to clean up after myself, so someone did it for me).

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?There are a lot of things I would never do for a million dollars. Intentionally harming a sentient creature would probably be at the top of the list though.

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?I’d pick the song one, because there are too many people in my life that I love too much to never see them again. (The song I pick would almost undoubtedly be Oceania by Sithu Aye.)

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love.Of course! I’ve done it so many times now, I BETTER know what it’s like! To me, falling in love with someone means that you put their own happiness and well-being before your own. It means you want to spend all your time with them, and knowing you wouldn’t get tired of them. Realizing all this about someone is quite exhilirating, and a little scary.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?I feel like I would have when I was younger, but now, hmmm… now I’m at an age where I don’t think I could “rock” anything anymore! XD

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?Grande cafe latte with coconut milk. Honestly I’d trust any of my vegan friends to order me something I’d like.

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?My daughter. I want to make sure she grows up to be a better person than I am. If she grows up to be a better person than her mother, I’ll be pretty astonished, but also extremely proud. She is my life right now. :3

#ask #gravityeyelids #thank you rachel :D #i know you know i love answering every question in these ask memes so thank you for making this legit lol #ask me a thing!

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ghostlywritten · 7 years

Text

No Point I.

“Jagiya!” Taehyung yelled as soon as the door to your practice room opened up, loud enough to be heard over the beat coming out of the stereo. You glanced over at him through the mirror whilst he waved enthusiastically, but proceeded to finish the choreo. He pouted as you ignored him until the song ended and held his arms up for you when you were done.

“I expect a hug that will heal the wound in my heart for ignoring me,” he whined and you sighed with a small smile, hugging him to get the puppy look off his face. And because it felt too good to resist him. He snuggled you into him, swaying you from side to side like a child would with a stuff toy and you could only imagine the big toothless smile on his face.

“What has my jagi been doing all day? I didn’t get to see you at all,” he complained, tightening his grip when you tried to let go. “Practicing, Tae. You know our comeback is coming up soon,” I said into his white shirt, inhaling his smell that always seemed to lift my mood for some reason.

“I do, but I should still be able to see you everyday, shouldn’t I?” he continued, childishly and I chuckled at his behaviour. Looking up at him you noticed the notoriously playful glint in his eyes, but also a small amount of frustration. Well, don’t blame me, blame the work. “Yeah, you should, but I guess we can’t help it,” You said, shrugging. Taehyung bit his lip before he smiled brightly again, trying to hide his disappointment. You furrowed your eyebrows. Did I say something wrong?

“Well, are you free tonight? We could go and eat ice cream or stroll around the Han River, it’s your favorite place, right? Or OH! We could cuddle.” You laughed at his excitement, he was just too cute. “I will take the cuddle, I will be too tired to do anything else,” you chose, sighing as you rested your head against his chest. Even though you loved dancing and that you got the opportunity to do it professionally you more and more had the feeling that your passion turned into some kind of duty, a very tiring duty.

Taehyung hummed in sympathy, rubbing your back. “Cuddling it is.” You sighed in contentment that night as you cuddled in the sofa after he requested your version of hot chocolate, glaring at his other members when they asked for one as well and stating that those hot chocolates were to only be made for him. Zipping through the TV shows he stopped at some movie to keep his and your members quiet and hold your attention, making sure the movie was lame enough for you to not get entranced by it like you usually would with movies, even going as far as to completely forgetting his presence from time to time. That’s how much you loved them sometimes.

“(Y/N),” he whispered and you looked up at him, surprised that he called you by your name and not ‘jagi’, ‘turd’ or 'yeobo’. “Yes?”

“I love you,” he smiled softly and you felt the words seep into you, lifting every weight and worry off your body.

You smiled back wholeheartedly, “I love you too, Taehyung.” He pressed his lips against yours for a moment, molding them together and you enjoyed every second of it. Who knew it would be one of the three last kisses you would share.

Yunah. A pretty name for a pretty person with short brown wavy hair, a cute face with delicate features and a rather comfortable fashion style. Together with her kind and funny personality the perfect combination. That’s how you could describe the new trainee girl the best. “Annyeonhaseyeo, I’m Yunah and I’m a new trainee. Please take care of me,” she introduced herself to you and your group. You observed her indifferently, not really caring who she was but rather why she would interrupt your dance practice so close before your comeback stage. Your latest single mv was released already, so it was about time you went to perform it. You smiled as you thought of Taehyung’s proud smile as he watched the video for the first time, yelling 'That’s my girl right there!’. Shaking your head you zoned back into the conversation your other members held with the new trainee girl, not yet realising the significant amount of impact she was going to have in your life.

“….and she is from Daegu. And she likes japchae, too!” Taehyung rambled as he sat, leaning against the mirror wall whilst you practiced the moves you were not confident with yet. “We should ask her to go eat japchae with us one day. So she can get comfortable. I remember how uncomfortable I was when I came here with my accent and all.”

“Yeah I remember, too,” you remarked and his eyes snapped to you with a playful glare. He suddenly stood up, walking up to you. “Come on jagiya, you’ve trained enough for today.”

“But I’m not good with the moves, yet,” You objected, twirling out of his reach. He chuckled, his eyesmile causing you to stop and let him get to you, “You are more than ready for the comeback stage, don’t worry,” he reassured, cupping your cheeks, his thumb grazing your skin lovingly. You nearly melted into puddle, but shook yourself out of it.

“One last round and then I’m done,” you offered and he groaned, “But I’m tired, jagi~,” he whined, throwing a little tantrum that you couldn’t help but giggle. “I won’t take long, I promise.” ….

“Won’t take long, my ass,” Taehyung grumbled after one hour when you finally decided to call it a day.

“Aww come on, jagi,” you chimed, in a way better mood than before now that you had managed the moves skillfully, “It was only an hour.”

“An hour that you could have spent cuddling with your precious boyfriend,” Taehyung complained as he looked down on his phone that blinked up. You casually looked down as the name 'Yunah’ flashed on his screen.

“Well, we can spent time together now,” you reasoned and hugged him from behind. He placed his free hand on yours, hesitating. “I have to go now, though.”

“Hm?” You perked up, stopping yourself from snuggling more into his back.

“I have to go, yeobo,” Taehyung repeated and freed himself gently from your arms.

“But why?” you asked, pouting slightly without realising it and he stared at your lips for a second.

“Ehh, manager-hyung messaged us to meet up now. Some urgent matter.” I briefly thought back to the name that flashed on his screen a few minutes ago. 'Since when is manager-hyung called Yunah.’ You wondered dryly, but shook it off as you smiled at him, sadly.

“Alright, I will see you later then?” He nodded cheerfully, pecking your lips quickly before rushing out. The second last kiss and it was way too short. That night you would wait for him, but end up falling asleep on the couch in vain, not a single response from the endless calls you made.

The next day you woke up with one message from him, apologizing and stating that he had to stay back with the others to do some music. You replied with a simple 'okay’, not being able to think of anymore as you had to get ready for the comeback stage. You would have to travel throughout the country and perform on different stages, not to mention the fanmeetings. 'Damn I should have spent time with him instead of practicing,’ you thought mournfully but soon left it behind you. Quite different from Taehyung.

Unfortunately he knew from past experiences that a simple 'okay’ from you meant that absolutely nothing was 'okay’. And even though you really meant the 'okay’ this time he didn’t know. And so - whilst you were too busy to check on your phone for the week - he bombarded you with messages filled with endless apologies like he usually would even if he wasn’t always entirely sure why he had to after you 'okay-ed’ him. And after the week of you unintentionally ignoring him he quite frankly got sick of it.

“She never talks to me,” Taehyung said through a mouthful of japchae. He could never get enough of it. “And I always have to apologize. And I sometimes don’t even know why!”

“I’m sure she has her reasons.”

“Yeah, well it would be nice if she could share her reasons with me then,” Taehyung huffed. “I mean, communication is the key to a good relationship, right?”

“Wow,” Yunah chuckled, who was sat in front of him in the restaurant. “You seem to know more about relationships than her,” she mused jokingly, causing him to laugh as well.

“I mean, everytime we fight it’s me who has to give in because she is so damn stubborn! Is it really possible that it’s always my fault?”

“No of course not,” Yunah tried to reassure him and placed her hand on his. Taehyung halted in his movements and glanced down at her hand. When was the last time you took his hand. Wasn’t it always him taking your hand? The young boy growled in frustration, startling Yunah.

She slowly retracted her hand from his, “S-Sorry, I thought-”

“No! No, it’s fine,” Taehyung exclaimed, grasping her hand instinctively. “Don’t be sorry. I was just thinking about (Y/N).”

“And that causes you to growl like you want to kill someone?” Yunah laughed and Taehyung smiled at her, suddenly noticing how melodious her laughter sounded. Maybe because she never held back her laughter or hid her face in her hands like you would. You would always say you looked ugly when you laughed even though he begged to differ.

“No, it’s just that…I feel like I’m the only one who puts effort in this relationship.” Yunah felt her heart go out to him. She, herself, had been in a relationship like that where the boy didn’t appreciate her like he should, causing her to break it off while breaking her heart at the same time.

“I know how you feel,” she said, squeezing his hand and he smiled in relief.

“Thank you!” They sat there, staring at each other and again - out of nowhere - Taehyung noticed something he hadn’t before. Her eyes. Her beautiful, twinkling eyes that reminded him of yours a little.

A phone rang and they broke out of their reverie. “Oh sorry. That’s mine,” Taehyung said, fumbling for his phone. Yunah cleared her throat, feeling a blush creep up her cheek. What was she thinking? He had a girlfriend.

“It’s the hyungs,” he declared and she turned her attention back to him. “They found a new place to 'party hard’,” he quoted and they both chuckled, “I should probably go and watch over them.”

“Oh? You watch over them?” Yunah asked, amused.

“Yes, I do,” he agreed.

“So you are the moralizer of the party?”

“Nah, but I’m the only one with the clear mind at the end,” he said, tapping her forehead. Yunah furrowed her eyebrows before understanding, “You don’t drink?”

“Not anymore, nope.”

She nodded her head, but asked why to keep the conversation going as they waited for the bill. Taehyung shrugged, “(Y/N) doesn’t like drinking. She wouldn’t want a drunk guy as a boyfriend.”

Yunah kept quiet for a while, reminiscing the memories of her last relationship, how she twisted and bended herself out of shape to fit his standards. For the second time on that night she took his hand in hers, “Tae, (Y/N) is not here tonight. So just for tonight, be yourself and 'party hard’.”

Taehyung looked at her, pondering before he slapped his free hand on the table. “You know what? You are right. Tonight I’m gonna be free and myself.”

“There you go!” she exclaimed cheerfully and he grinned, gleefully. He didn’t know when the last time was that he could breathe so easily. Every weight on his shoulders - practice, perform, act cheerful when he wasn’t, you - seemed lifted off his shoulders. The young idol looked down at their joined hands before he looked back at her.

“Do you want to come, too?”

She looked into his eyes in surprise. “Eh, I don’t know, Tae.”

“Come on, Yunah. It’s gonna be fun. Plus, you already know the others and they like you,” he listed off the reasons why she should go and she couldn’t help but think how adorable he was. 'He deserves better than (Y/N).’

“Alright, I guess I can come for an hour,” she agreed.

“Great! Let’s go!” And off they went, not knowing what would happen that night. ————————— Scandal: V from BTS spotted with a trainee at a party

Namjoon aka Rapmonster stared at the tabloid in shock. “Taehyung!” he yelled out, enraged. Stalking up to his room he pushed the door open with a bang, causing the occupants to flinch in their beds and groan with pounded heads. The leader went up to the sleepy boy and shoved the tabloid in his face. “When did this happen?”

“What is it?” Taehyung mumbled, picking himself up lazily.

“What that is? It’s an article writing about how you were spotted making out with a girl, Taehyung!”

“Bwoh?!” the boy bolted up upon hearing the news and scanned the tabloid thoroughly. He felt the blood drain from his face when he saw a picture, but sighed in relief. “Hyung, you can’t see anything in that picture. There is no proof, so we can just deny it.”

“Deny it? So it is true? You made out with a girl. A girl that is not (Y/N), your girlfriend?” Namjoon remarked, disbelievingly. How could he stay so calm about this. Taehyung scratched his head, closing his eyes at the pounding hangover and sighed, “Of course not, hyung. I don’t remember anything, but you know I would never do that.”

“Good, because she is not going to like this. And neither will manager-hyung.”

“Calm down, hyung. He won’t be mad.” …..

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND, TAEHYUNG?!” the manager yelled in their meeting room.

Taehyung cowered in his seat. “Or maybe he will,” he muttered to Namjoon, who vigorously nodded his head next to him.

“How could this happen? When did this happen? And when did I allow you guys to go out anyway?!”

“Hyung,” Jungkook spoke up, weakly, “We were free that night and you said we could do whatever we wanted.”

“Do whatever you wanted, yes, but not something that would cause a freaking scandal! Do you even know what we will have to go through from now on?!” the manager continued to yell at the seven boys, who seemed to get smaller and smaller with each word. “Bang Si-Hyuk will not be happy about this. Especially because it’s true!”

Taehyung snapped his head up, astonished. “Hyung, that rumour is false. That never happened!”

“Oh, it didn’t, you say?” the manager almost laughed at the innocent puppy look on their faces. “Were you not at that party? Did you not get drunk? Did Yunah not confess and apologize to me countless times about what happened?!”

“What?” Taehyung said, confused, “What did she say?”

“She came up to me this morning, apologizing about getting drunk with you guys and kissing you in public. Taehyung, I do not care about your personal relationships, but I thought I made it clear that you were to hide it from the publici…” Taehyung didn’t hear the rest of it, he couldn’t. All that he thought about was the fact that he kissed a girl other than you. He…cheated on you.

Feeling the panic built up inside him slowly, he clenched his fists, trying to keep his calm. What if you found out? What if you read that article? What if you had already read it?! Flinching and startling his members in the process he began to frantically search for his phone.

No messages. His heart started to pump like he just ran a marathon as he pressed the number he knew inside out, holding it up to his ear.

“Yah, Taehyung! Are you even listening?” Manager-hyung grumbled, put off by the unusual rude behaviour of the young boy.

“(Y/N)…,” he whispered as the call went to voicemail, his eyes so wide and looking at him with a desperation it started to worry the older man, “She is not picking up.”

“Maybe she is busy right now,” Jin reasoned, trying to comfort his dongsaeng.

Taehyung suddenly jerked up. “I need to see her!” And with that exclamation he went to run out of the room, however he was held back by his members.

“Where do you think you are going?”

“She is on her comeback stage tour.”

“You can’t see her now.” Taehyung closed his eyes tightly, banging his fist against the wall in frustration. What if you knew and broke up with him? He couldn’t let that happen. The others gathered around him, trying to help out but he was inconsolable. 'I will never ever drink again…’ ———————————— “Ughh, I will never wear these shoes again,” you huffed as you were finally set in the car that would take you back to Seoul, now that you had wrapped up your last comeback stage. Taking off the heels you gave your feet a generous and very much needed massage. Whoever came up with the concept of wearing heels whilst dancing such complex choreos was crazy.

“Eww, (Y/N)-ah, put your shoes back on, your feet stink,” one of your Royalty members playfully complained and you lightly threw one heel at her. She yelped in exaggerated pain, falling on top of the member next to her.

You sat back in your seat as the car started and headed back home, staring out of the tinted window. Thinking of what would await you there you smiled at the thought of Taehyung and decided to check up on him after days of neglecting him. Pulling out your phone you found it dead as it had no battery left. You looked at your seat neighbour, who clung to her phone like her life depended on it.

“Unnie, can I borrow your phone for a seco-?”

“No! I haven’t seen my baby for a week! I’m not giving this away.”

“What? Baby? Unnie~ I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t. I’m talking about my phone.” You sighed/chuckled at her response. She truly loved technology. Aish, you would have to wait until you got back to hear from him.

After five hours of a seemingly endless drive you finally arrived back in your dorms, only to be surprised by the whole BTS gang in your living room.

“WELCOME BACK!” they yelled from the top of their lungs, causing your leader to shut the door close in shock without getting in. You girls stood there for a minute, staring at the door before you burst out laughing, opening it again.

“You pabos scared us so bad!” one of your members exclaimed as soon as you opened the door the second time only to see them rolling on the floor with tears of laughter in their eyes. You chuckled at this until some kind of whirlwind rushed through the girls and crashed into you, knocking the breath out of you. You immediately recognized the scent surrounding you and laughed as you hugged him back. “Hey Tae,” you whispered.

“Hey (Y/N),” he whispered back, tightening his grip as you tried to back away to see him. You giggled at his sudden need for closure. “Missed me that much?”

He nuzzled your neck affectionally. “You have no idea.”

“Aww, you lovebirds,” the Royalty members cooed, before they simultaneously went, “Eww, I’m gonna barf.”

You laughed at their reaction, yet again failing to get out of Taehyung’s arms. “Jagiya,” you laughed and he finally loosened his grip around you.

The rest of the night he wouldn’t move from your side, when you went into your room to put your bags inside, when you went into the kitchen for a glass of water, he had even tried to follow you into the bathroom until you shut the door on his face, laughing.

“Seriously Tae,” I started as he snuggled closer to you on the couch while you tried focusing on the movie. You leaned into him when he squeezed you tightly, “You’ve been so touchy all day. What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” he snapped, startled, “Nothing is going on. Why, is something supposed to be going on?”

“No…I was just wondering if something happened,” you remarked, confused by his behaviour.

“Yeah, hehehe no nothing happened,” he repeated, fumbling around uncomfortably. You stared at him for a while, watching his eyes shift around but never look at you. Placing a kiss on his cheek you hoped to ease his uneasiness. Whatever it was, he would surely tell you at some point.

Well, he didn’t but at least his weird behaviour stopped after a while. Instead of being awfully clingy he got awfully distant. And even though you were glad about the space because you had to keep up with members during your comeback time you were also quite disappointed to not see him waiting for you or watching your dance practices like he normally would.

Like today. Today was a Thursday and he would have practice at the same time as you so you expected him to come over during a break. But you waited in vain, even during your break he didn’t come. Puffing out a breath in frustration you laid down in a starfish position, staring at the ceiling. What was going on? Lately he didn’t seem to have any time for you. Sure, he was preparing for his comeback but that wasn’t due to three months so he wasn’t that busy, yet.

You looked over at your members, who looked just as exhausted as you felt. “Big break?” you suggested and they nodded, mumbling in agreement. Though you had also other intentions in mind

“Hey the Bangtan Boys haven’t come over for sometime now,” you tried to bring up casually. They pondered for a second before coming to the same conclusion.

“Why don’t we go and watch them for a change then?” our leader spoke and you immediately jumped up.

“That’s a great idea!” you exclaimed, enthusiastically. Noticing how the others looked at you in amusement, you coughed awkwardly. “I mean, sure. Let’s go,” you said, acting nonchalantly.

“Oh don’t give me that,” your eldest laughed, pushing you as you all made your way to the door, “We know you can’t wait to see your Taehyungie.” You felt your heart flutter at him being called yours and smiled unconsciously.

Peeking into the window at their door you saw them doing the ending pose of their song and you girls quickly opened the door, clapping obnoxiously for them with cheers like “That was great” and “Fighting!” and “Wooooo”. They laughed loudly, the tension that previously dominated their expressions fading when they started to relax.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin asked. You silently admired how friendly he seemed saying that whilst it always came off as cold when you said it. Shaking your head slightly at the distraction you walked up to Taehyung with a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he greeted back, hugging you half-heartedly and you wondered where his bear hugs went off to. It was silent for a moment as he was usually the one to open up a conversation you would continue for hours but this time it seemed like he was intent on avoiding your eyes for some reason.

“We were just going to have break, too,” Hoseok mentioned and that was the cue for everyone to sit down in a circle and chat around mindlessly. You kept glancing at your boyfriend, who was oddly quiet for his 4D alien nature.

“Is everything alright?” you asked, placing a hand on his. He mumbled a distracted 'yes’ and slowly pulled away, leaving your hand hanging. Retracting it you tried not to feel hurt about it.

Suddenly the door opened and in came Yunah with a bag of take out’s, “Hey guys- Oh,” she halted in her movements as she noticed us, her eyes widening when they landed on you. You gave her a quizzical look and she quickly looked behind you before composing herself. You glanced back to see Taehyung with a slightly panicked expression and his hands tightened into fist that you could see his knuckles straining against his skin. 'What on earth is going on?’

Turning back to the newcomer you saw her bow politely to everyone. “Annyeong sunbae-nims. I’m Yunah, a trainee here.” Your members smiled warmly at her and you gave her a nod of acknowledgement like you usually would, though with narrowed eyes. “I bought chinese take outs,” she said to the guys, holding the plastic bag up and they cheered, Hoseok and Jimin scrambling to help her with it.

Spreading the goods around, you noticed how Taehyung’s lightened up as she gave him his food, smiling his rectangular grin and your heart tightened. She turned to us with an apologetic look, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you would be here,” she said, looking down guiltily at the now empty plastic bag.

“It’s fine,” one of your members reassured with a smile, “Our break is over now, so we have to go anyway.”

With that you girls stood up and said your goodbyes, you deliberately ignoring Taehyung’s outstretched hand as he expected a hug. Well, he expected in vain, causing him to frown at your back in confusion, his rejected hand still hanging mid-air. 'Why are you being like that?’ he wondered, before sighing to himself. It wasn’t like he had any right to reprimand her for this cold behaviour, which he was actually used to from previous fights. His heart stopped in realisation. She couldn’t have known, could she?

A hand on his shook him off of his thoughts and he looked up to see Yunah sitting down and smiling at him with worry, “Taehyung oppa,” she said and he felt warm at the 'oppa’. You would never call him that, before you got together it was always a formal 'sunbae’. Yet again he sighed at the negative thoughts he had about you. 'Am I really supposed to think about you - my girlfriend - like that?’ This relationship gradually didn’t make sense to him anymore. Maybe that was why he got so distant with you. Maybe that was why he didn’t push Yunah’s hand away like he did with yours earlier. And maybe…that was why things turned out like they turned out.

“Taehyung oppa,” a voice called out to him as soon as he stepped out of the room with his members and the manager staring at him, judging him, silently scolding him for his drunken mistake. Taehyung closed his eyes tightly before he turned to the person he wanted to see the least. No, it was actually he didn’t want to see, fearing you would see what he had done in his eyes, the guilt eating him away.

“Yunah,” he nodded at her, before pushing past her, slightly resenting her for snitching to the manager what he had done.

“Please oppa, wait!” she called out to him and he didn’t have the heart to ignore. After all she had to bear the consequences, too. He stopped and waited for her to catch up.

“I’m really sorry for what happened last night,” she breathed out quickly.

“Yunah I-.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a slight headache building. “What even happened?”

“Wha- you don’t remember?” she asked, surprised and he thought he even saw hurt flash across her face.

“No. I’m not a really good drinker. I never remember.”

“Well,” she shuffled nervously and he watched her intensely when she blushed, “we went to the party your hyungs had told you about and I had told you to let loose for tonight because you were so stressed about (Y/N) not answering you. And so we got really, really drunk and…we danced…and started k-kissing at some point,” she stuttered, turning as red as a tomato. If it hadn’t been such a serious matter he would have laughed at how shy she was being.

“That’s it? Nothing else happened?” he probed and she quickly nodded her head, watching him sigh in relief. “Don’t worry, Yunah. It’s going to be fine. We will just declare this rumour as false. It won’t affect your or my career,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She bit her lip, heart beat picking up at his touch.

“I’m really sorry for what happened last night,” she repeated and he nodded his head with a slight smile though it slipped at her next words, “but I don’t regret it.”

“What?” he asked, shocked and she blushed again yet refusing to back down as she looked up in determination.

“I don’t regret it, Taehyung oppa. I know I’m the worst person for kissing you when you have a girlfriend, but I can’t deny my feelings. I like you and I won’t ever regret liking you.”

He stood there shocked as she slowly moved away from him. “I know there is no way we will be together since you have your (Y/N). I just wanted to get this off my chest,” she said, feeling relief coursing through her at finally confessing even if the inevitable heartbreak would follow. She was proud of herself for confessing and standing up to her feelings after her emotional break up with her last boyfriend.

Days passed with sleepless nights for Taehyung as he waited for you to come back and yet hoping you wouldn’t because he had no idea how to face you. What if you knew already and didn’t want to see him ever again? He growled in frustration, tossing around in bed until he got hit by a pillow from his roommates, telling him to keep it down.

The day you came he couldn’t have been more relieved that you had no idea about anything. Wanting to make sure you wouldn’t find out in anyway he stuck by you throughout that day and the days after until he was sure the scandal had died down and the tabloids wouldn’t mention it anymore. Afterwards he distanced himself from you, the guilt that had been hidden by the panic of losing you coming to the surface and he couldn’t let you see it.

“Just tell her already,” Jin advised him, “She will be glad that you told her.”

“No, she will leave me, hyung,” he said, the dark bags evident under his eyes, “She will leave me for good.”

The eldest sighed, concerned about his dongsaeng’s health and relationship with you. “I’m afraid she will find out at some point. Such things never stay hidden for too long. It’s not like you guys are happy either right now. You keeping a secret from her is putting a wall between you two. It’s not healthy.”

“Better a sick relationship than no relationship with (Y/N),” Taehyung responded, stubbornly. Feeling the urge of escape he walked off the dorm, musing how depressing it was that he couldn’t even forget and be himself in his own dorm with his brothers anymore.

Deciding to catch some fresh air he walked to the Han River close by, letting the breeze freshen him up. He felt slightly better as if the wind picked up all the worries that weighed down on his shoulders, lifting them up and carrying them away for at least a small amount of time. Letting his eyes wander he spotted a small figure a few metres away. Squinting his eyes he recognized her to be none other than Yunah.

Watching her silently, he felt his breath come to a slight stop at the way her short wavy brown hair swirled around in the wind. How was it that he always felt good seeing and thinking about her but the feelings he had around you lately were such a burden. Why did he feel like you grew more and more apart and he got closer to her instead? When did his feelings for you transferred over to her? He saw her look up at the feeling of someone watching her, her eyes widening. They lightened up when he slowly walked over to her, stopping a metre away.

“Hey Taehyung oppa,” she greeted him sweetly and he closed his eyes at the battle that occured in him.

“That confession…,” he began slowly, feeling one side of him gain the upper hand, “is it still- do you still like me?”

She looked at him in surprise before nodding slightly. He nodded as well, his eyes flickering down to her lips momentarily. “Why do you ask all of a sudden?” she breathed, noticing him come closer.

“I don’t know,” he said so quielty she almost thought she imagined it.

“What are you doing?” she whispered as he leaned down, their foreheads touching. She held onto his bicep for support when her knees nearly gave up on her.

“I don’t know.”

“What about (Y/N)?”

“I don’t know.” And with that he crashed his lips down on her, silencing all the other unanswered questions she had for him.

That was how their little affair had started. It wasn’t much that they did, but it was more than he did with you for weeks. Meeting up secretly he made the effort to take her to as many different places as he could, feeling on cloud nine whenever she squealed in delight or kissed him, demanding.

“Who is she?” you asked the day he asked to break up with you, void of any emotion.

“What?” he flinched at her tone.

“Who is she, Taehyung?”

“I- Yunah,” he said, defeated. There was no point in lying anymore. You narrowed your eyes a little with your back turned to him. Wasn’t that the trainee girl with the chinese food a few weeks ago?

“And why?” you asked the question he had dreaded. “Why do you want to be with her so much that you forgot about me?” your voice broke and you heard his breath hitch.

“(Y/N)…”

“Why do you love her and not me?”

“(Y/N)-.” You whirled around.

“What happened to us?” he looked at her, sadly.

“There wasn’t much left of 'us’ anymore, (Y/N),” he said and your heart broke.

“We grew apart slowly without realising it.”

“That wasn’t growing apart. That was you distancing yourself from me. Because you fell in love with another,” you saying it out loud made it even more real an tears gradually filled your eyes though you refused to let them out.

“Maybe…”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When did you start falling for her?”

“(Y/N)-”

“When?!” you raised your voice, giving him a stare that struck him to the core. It was obvious that he started falling for her during your relationship - which really stung - and you just wanted to know at what point you two went wrong.

“I-It just happened, (Y/N), I can’t really tell you. I guess when I kissed her-,” he immediately clamped his mouth shut, biting on his lip with a grimace at his mistake as your eyes widened.

“You kissed her?” you choked out and he looked down to the side, away from your pained expression, “You kissed her while you were with me? My boyfriend?”

“Please (Y/N)-”

“That’s cheating, Taehyung!” you cried out and he flinched yet again at the harsh word.

“N-No, it wasn’t. I was drunk during the first kiss.”

“You kissed her more than once!” you yelled and felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore and he closed his eyes, cursing himself, “Taehyung, how could you?” you whispered, all the energy drained from you and your shoulders slumped in defeat, “I-I need to go.”

“(Y/N), please. Let’s not end it like this,” he tried, but you immediately cut off all his hopes of settling this peacefully, “There is no other way to end this.”

He silently followed you to the door, his heart heavy seeing your back slumped like this. You normally walked with your head high, always making sure to not let people see your emotions as it was part of how you grew up. Emotions were a weakness, you would say. Knowing this it ate him alive all the more as you shuffled and stumbled, your hand shaking as you desperately fumbled with the door for a few seconds before finally managing to open it and flee from him.

He had no idea how long he stood there, staring at the spot you were last seen, “…Good bye.”

II.

Help me Get Coffee Support?

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a-rush-of-dreams-to-the-head · 7 years

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part 3

** Two weeks later **

You wait in the entrance of the burrito bar, coat pulled tightly against you as the wind increases in velocity and makes its best effort to further mess up your soggy, windswept hair. Chris had been back in England for a day to see his family and you were meeting here before he was flying back to the next tour date in Singapore. The weather seems to be trying its hardest to ruin any chance you had of looking decent and the anxiety bubbling in your stomach ramps up a notch. You look up at the sound of footsteps. Chris is running through the rain, hands attempting to shield his head from the onslaught of water. You can’t help but laugh – he just looks so comical. When he slows to a stop in front of you he smiles warmly but spotting you laughter, his face falls.

“Hello to you too!” He grumbles. You try to control your laughing, but you look up and seeing him sulking like a soggy puppy just makes you laugh more. “There was traffic…I had to get out and run.” His defensive tone isn’t making it any less funny. He falls silent and you stop laughing. He looks almost… embarrassed. You pull down your hood to reveal your mess of hair and he looks at you for a second before choking on laugher that you fear is about to spill.

“Don’t you even dare.”

Your food has gone cold, but you don’t care. You and Chris are deep in conversation and have been for a fair while. However, your mind keeps returning to that kiss on the night if the Paris show. What did it mean? You have been talking over text for weeks but neither of you had mentioned it again. You know you didn’t want it to be the last one but you didn’t really think that Chris could want the same… could he? I mean he’s been texting you non-stop since you last met. He’s sent you countless postcards. He ran through the rain to meet you in a burrito bar. Chris notices you’re staring into space and leans across the table so his eyes are directly in front of your line of sight.

“Whatcha thinkin about?” he asks, smiling. “cause I didn’t think my question was that puzzling.”

You smile sheepishly.

“So puzzling that I didn’t manage to catch it. At all.”

“ehh, it was boring anyway. Your thoughts are strikingly more exciting.” While he thinks you’re not looking his hand moves toward the chips in front of you. You notice.

“I’ll strike you with more than my thoughts if you even touch those.”

He laughs and withdraws his hand, leaning back into his chair.

“It was worth a try.”

Its later in the afternoon and Chris is getting out his phone to show you video evidence of his unicycle riding ability.

“Fuck” He exclaims and stands immediately.

“What? Are you ok?” You reply, concerned.

“oh god, I gotta go if I wanna get my flight. I’m slumming it in commercial this time.” He explains as he hurriedly walks round the edge of the table. You follow him out the door, intent on making sure he makes it into a taxi OK and wanting to say goodbye. He runs out and manages to flag one down. As it pulls in he gives the cabbie his destination and then turns back to look at you. He says something else before running back across the pavement to where you are standing. You open your mouth to tell him to go so he doesn’t miss his flight, but you don’t manage a single word as he takes your face in his hands and kisses you gently. Your whole body begins to melt but it’s over too quickly and you barely have time for a whispered goodbye before he is gone.

**Three weeks later**

The flight to Budapest was relatively painless but Chris still felt as if he could hear the shouts of the crowd of the proceeding show echo in his ears.

You: Night cutie xx

Y/N <3: night sexy xx

He laughs at the sudden show of boldness.

Y/N.

He misses her so much; much more than is warranted by the amount of time he's spent in her company. She made such an impression, with her lame yet endearing sense of humour, weird hobbies and almost constant blush on her face – especially when he caught her staring at him. He falls asleep with this thought still in his mind.

The next morning, however, didn't start how he expected it to. He was awoken by Jonny throwing the curtains open and chucking a pair of jeans at him.

"Jon what're you--"

"We're going out Chris." This makes Chris sit up. Have I forgotten something? A meeting? Radio show?

Jonny senses his panic, "We're going to find you a muse." He sits down in the hotel room chair, "Chris.., you haven't been writing much at the moment... at all in fact…and it's worrying the band." Chris knows he hadn't been working as hard as he should recently... He just can't find any inspiration, but when he looks at Jonny's tired face he knows he must do something.

"Okay. Let's go."

Jonny takes Chris to a beautiful park, to try and inspire something, but Chris just stares at his phone. He takes him to the cathedral, to try and inspire something, but Chris still stares at his phone. He finally takes him to an art gallery, but Chris is engrossed in his phone. Jonny's had enough.

"Chris, will you please put your phone down? I'm trying to find you some inspiration, here.”

Chris looks up from his phone. "... What?"

"Argh!! What is so important that you're so insistent to ignore everything I'm doing for you??"

"I'm not Jon I just-- hey!!" Jonny snatches the phone out of his hands and looks down at it in shock.

Y/N <3: my blender just broke!!!

Chris: thanks for the JUICY goss ;)

Y/N <3: that's worse than one of mine... -____-

Chris: I'll buy you a new blender to make up for it

Y/N: only if you're delivering ;)

"Chris....?"

"She... I just... Look Jon, I don't know what I'm doing.... But I really like her."

"You know.... She might just work." Jonny looks lost in thought and Chris doesn't expect him to say what he says next. "Well I guess we'd better get her over here then." He grins and flips the phone back to Chris, putting his arm around his shoulder.

"Whoa, you're okay with that?"

Jonny smiles and leads him out, "I'm not saying it'll be easy... But I'm optimistic."

Chris leaves the pretentious gallery feeling exhilarated.

Maybe this time, this time he could get to know Y/N properly. He smiles at the thought.

Soon, Chris realises one huge obstacle to the plan. Will.

"Um, Jon... This might not…work" He forces out through clenched teeth, remembering what the drummer had had to say that unlucky afternoon in the hotel. Jonny frowned.

"I refuse to believe it Chris, it's at least worth a try even if it doesn't help you write. The other guys could do with some new company anyway." He insists, but Chris is shaking his head.

"The other guys are the problem Jay. They -" Jonny interrupts him, sticking holdfast with his idea.

"If this is about Guy, forget it, cause he is obviously going to try and wind you up no matter who is around."

"Let me speak Jon!" Jonny falls silent, somewhat dejected. "Will.. um... Noticed... Me and Y/N." Jonny raises his eyebrows. "Though not as… directly as you did. He was even less keen about the whole thing really..." Chris trails off, disappointment and anger emanating from the man in a silent storm of emotion. Jonny doesn't look particularly put off.

"Hey, Will didn't like Clocks at first. What does he know?" He attempts to salvage Chris' mood, but the singer doesn't seem convinced.

"He told me I was putting her at risk... That I wasn't thinking... that I was taking advantage of her." Chris almost spits and Jonny considers it all for a moment.

"Well firstly she is her own human being Chris. I'm sure she is competent enough to know more than you give her credit for. I agree that you weren't thinking man, at least not with your head." He gives Chris a reprimanding look. "I mean... In a dusty corridor..?" Chris blushes deeply and looks away, ashamed. "As for anything else, you gotta do what you feel is right Chris." He pauses for a moment and then grins widely. "Though now it is for sure some of my business, if it's affecting your work"

That's how Jonny managed to convince Chris to try and talk Will around. In theory, they didn't really have to ask the drummer and Chris suggests just booking the flights and surprising him multiple times, but Jonny insists. Will always felt like some sort of boss and it would do no good for band relations to go behind his back. Chris awkwardly walks into the room where Will is unpacking his drums, ready from shipping.

"Um, Will" he starts, and Will turns around with a faint smile. "I was - um.. well - we- I mean I.." Jonny cuts him off and takes the lead.

"I think I found Chris a muse. A... Female... Muse." Will raises a single eyebrow, saying nothing. "Just checking your cool if we um.. ship 'em in." Will tilts his head to the side slightly.

"And would this 'muse' happen to go by the name Y/N, by any chance?" he asks, almost softly, and the two other band mates nod hesitantly. He takes a moment to think it over. He still doesn't like it... but Chris has been so off recently. Maybe seeing her again will straighten him out, Will thinks. Maybe Chris will get over it all, and besides it'd be nice to see Y/N again. He sighs deeply and turns to Chris. "Three conditions. One, I get to tell her. Two, you make sure you don't let Guy mess with her anymore. Three, you promise me this is not some sort of ploy for a one night stand that'll emotionally ruin her." Chris blinks in surprise.

"Done, done and I swear on my life"

Around 4 hours later and you are sat in Gatwick airport, heart racing. When you had seen Wills number it has struck fear into your heart. He wasn't really one for small talk, or rambling phone calls, so you assumed the worst. when you picked up the phone, he sounded almost nervous and you blurted out a stupid question.

"ohmygod Will is he hurt? Is he dead!? Oh god, please tell me he isn't dead." Will had alleviated your fears, almost laughing, and you felt shame creep across your mind at the memory of your panicked spiel. Instead he asked you very hesitantly if you'd like to come back out on tour with them, just for a long weekend, and you had bounced at the opportunity. Lucky for you both Fridays and Mondays were lecture free, so you pretty much had a full four days to spend with the guys. To spend with Chris. Although your heart aches to see him again, you worry about it nonstop. What if he doesn't like me anymore? What if I don't like him anymore? You dismiss your anxiety ridden mind and instead head toward your boarding gate, legs still shaking but excited for your adventures ahead. You'd tried to insist on paying for the flights, even though you couldn't really afford it, but Will was a force to be reckoned with when he had his head set on something and insisted the business class tickets were on them. You'd made a risky joke about it being plane rude they hadn't sent their jet, that luckily Will appreciated and elicited an extremely rare laugh from the drummer.

"Have I entered a parallel universe, or did a joke of mine just make you laugh?" You had giggled down the phone, which caused Will to faux-gruffly tell you that you made a mistake and it must have been phone static. You had missed the drummer and his attempts at teaching you rhythm, getting to be able see him too was an added bonus. Your phone beeps as you seat yourself in your overly large business class seat, trying not to think about the flight ahead, and you see a text from Chris.

SEXY: You'll be fine on the flight sunshine xx

SEXY: Close your eyes and think of something more pleasant ;-)

You giggle at both the unexpected nickname and at Chris' suggestion

YOU: Oh, I'm sure I can manage that. :-P

SEXY: I'll be waiting for you as soon as you arrive. xx

YOU: If I don't crash and die

SEXY: If you die, I'll have to kill you x

YOU: I'll try my best to not take off anytime soon. x

SEXY: I take it back, please drown :-P x

You laugh, fears alleviated for now, ready for departure.

As soon as the plane touches down you're off like a shot. It wasn't that the ride was horrible, but it was. The fear of being so high up held you rigid in your seat the entire time, slightly alleviated by the alcohol from the complimentary champagne but made slightly worse by the complimentary coffee.

Needless to say when you get off the plane you're a little giddy, especially when you're waiting for your bag and see a text from Chris.

SEXY: ready when you are, gorgeous xx

With your tired suitcase in hand, you walk out to the arrivals lounge of Budapest International Airport. You look around and your eye is caught by a flash of bright colours. You turn to it and see Chris holding a beautiful bouquet of pink and orange flowers, but it's not quite as beautiful as the singer, who is standing there wearing a slightly undone causal dress shirt and fitted black jeans. But the best part is his relieved smile as he starts to jog towards you and you find yourself doing the same.

The second you're close enough he takes your waist into his arms, crushing the flowers onto your back. He lifts you up above his head, so he's looking up at you and you have to wrap your legs around his muscular torso. You put your arms around his shoulders and press your lips onto his, you can feel him grinning like a maniac as he moves to kiss you back. You sigh happily into it and just savour the moment as his hands roam your back and his lips move with yours. You stay like that, in his arms and gently pulling his curls until you're breathless.

"Hey, gorgeous." He breathes as you pull away.

"Hey..." You're breathing heavily and your forehead is against his. Your giddiness stops you from catching what you say next as it leaves your mouth.

"You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet." At this he gently drops you and turns away childishly with his arms folded over his chest.

"Go back now. I'm done with you!!" He cries dramatically and you can't not laugh.

"Chris no!!!" You shout back just as loud. You're doubled over laughing so hard you can't breathe, when he puts a hand on your lower back and begins to push you out of the airport.

"You hungry, doll?" He asks as he grabs your suitcase with his other hand.

"Sure thing. Where we going?" You smile and playfully spin around to face him, walking backwards and stepping on his feet slightly.

"Hey, none of that!!" He moves to the side of you, smiling. "Thought we could go somewhere with local food?"

"Do they have steak?" You spin back around and take his warm hand in yours and he nods. "Then I'm... Game!!"

"I will leave you here." You squeeze his hand reassuringly as you walk out the doors, towards the waiting car.

"You love it really." You wink as you hop in, not letting go of his hand for a second.

Your car eventually pulls up to a dark wood door with gilded frames, the word "ONYX" in capital letters sat prominently on a sign on top. The windows are blackened, and small shrubs sit either side of the ornate entrance. Chris gets out first, briefly detaching himself from your hand, but proceeding to offer it back to you as you exited with a mock bow. You giggle, still entranced at finally seeing the man again and the memory of your lips on his still fresh in your mind. It's about 8 and so the restaurant seems pretty busy. You silently worry that you'll get turned away at the door by the looks of how fancy the place is and the business you see from the shaded-out windows, Indian who could get a reservation at this short notice. Chris leads you inside and a matrè dî turns hurriedly toward you both, the same dollar sign expression that you saw in the eyes of the sales assistant in Paris in his eyes.

"Van egy foglalás" Chris says confidently in what you assume to be Hungarian and the man smiles at him.

"Ah, megérkezett! Azt beszélik nyelvünket jól uram. Hallottam a túra nagyon jól megy , hadd mutassam meg a táblázatban." He says and begins to walk deeper into the restaurant, you are following close behind - having no idea what either man just said. The decor inside the restaurant is decadent to say the least, soft candles light the room and the wall's ornate red and gold decorations are making you feel underdressed. The waiter arrives at a particularly well positioned table, tucked into an alcove near a decorative pillar.

"Egy gyönyörű asztal egy kis magánéletet . Leszek vissza a borlap is." He says, winking slyly at Chris and and pulling out your chair for you. You sit down and raise a single eyebrow at the singer as the waiter walks away.

"You speak Hungarian?" You ask and he smiles sheepishly.

"I've picked up bits and pieces, it’s um quite similar to German in a way, I guess" he looks embarrassed but you smile warmly at him.

"You Hungary for dinner?" you ask, managing to maintain a straight face. It takes a while for Chris to realise the pun and when he does he immediately places his head on the table.

"That one hurt me deep inside." He murmurs, muffled by the table cloth. He then lifts his head slightly and looks you in the eyes, solemnly.

"I warn you, one more and I'll have to get revenge." He looks so serious that you can't help but laugh and at this his expression breaks and he laughs with you. It's at that point the waiter returns with a wine list, presenting it to Chris. Chris says something quietly in Hungarian and the man departs with a smile, soon returning with a bottle of fancy looking champagne and pouring you a tall thin glass each. Chris lifts his in a proposal of a toast.

"To… us" he says almost hesitantly and you clink your glass delicately against his and sip gently, maintaining eye contact with the singer whose eyes seem transfixed on you. His expression switches to nervousness and you frown slightly, then suddenly you get a brainwave.

"Um... Us? Like…us as in there's an us, or just to us as in... like me and you... Separately?" You blurt out, face the colour of the scarlet walls. Chris becomes similarly flustered but this just seems to make him look even cuter and you sort of want to jump over the table and kiss him right there.

"I'd...um... tell you what I'd prefer, but I don't think I've been... um... Subtle" he fumbles, still blushing, but looking you directly in the eye. "So I guess it depends on... um... You." He looks positively terrified now and you confuse him by laughing.

"Chris, you can be extremely dim sometimes." You sigh. “I’d like nothing more." You finish, taking his hand from across the table. Your eyes glitter mischievously.

"Well now we've got through The Hardest Part. at least." He groans loudly in pain and his eyes darken.

"Don't call my bluff Y/N, you will be punished for that." He almost whispers and you quickly laugh to try and displace your anticipation of this threat. His expression lightens once again, however.

"This means I can call you my girlfriend all the time, right?" He asks smirking, "...and not just to deter unwanted bouncers at shitty night clubs?" His joke makes you laugh, but Chris’ expression has suddenly turned serious.

"We can tell the boys after the concert tomorrow. If you want." He suggests, smirking. "Give us space to run away if they get jealous of what they've missed out on. But for now, I want you all to myself" You roll your eyes again but smile.

"You'll have to fight them all off Chris." You joke and your conversation deteriorates into a discussion on who out of the band, and then in the wider world in general, Chris and you could beat in a fight.

When your main course arrives, it leaves you mildly confused. Although the plate is fancifully decorated with jus, your steak is pitifully small and oddly rectangular. You cut it in half and your meal is soon gone in two overloaded forkfuls. When you finish you glance toward Chris, who seems to be laughing at you.

"What?" You ask defensively, and he just laughs harder.

"Hungry?" He taunts and you blush, which softens his expression but doesn't lessen his laughing. You look down at his plate and see the small delicate mouthfuls he has taken and feel horribly inexperienced and out of place. He seems to find it endearing however and giggles his way through his weird seafood dish, while you sit shamefully with an empty plate. Two more courses and endless teasing later, and you are stood at the entrance of an alleyway nearby, waiting for your lift to arrive to take you back to the hotel. Suddenly, Chris attacks you with a precise barrage of tickling and you squeal which simply spurs him on further. After a few minutes of discovering you are horrendously ticklish, Chris stops - his hands now lying flat against either side of your waist.

"I told you-" he says, but his voice is breathy and soft. "-that it wouldn't go un PUN ished." You look up into his stunningly blue eyes, the witty comeback on the tip of your tongue instantly lost. Instead you find your eyes exploring his own, parting your lips slightly without realising. Chris, however, realises and his breathing quickens as he pulls you closer. "Now, let's call a truce", he murmurs, moments before your lips make impact. Your hands almost instantly trace the path across his upper back into his hair and he hums into your lips in appreciation. One of his hands keeps you pressed to him by your lower back and the other climbs to the back of your neck in a successful attempt to deepen the kiss as he bends your body backwards. You shiver at the skin-on-skin contact, which seems to encourage him further but then, almost instantly, hear a car pulling up next to you. You begin to pull away and Chris resists before very reluctantly letting go of you, murmuring sulkily that the car could have waited. You giggle and lightly punch him in the arm in mock-punishment before sliding into the unfortunately timed car, your hand now in his.

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