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sytco · 3 years

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common blessings [joochan]

pairing: childhood friend!hong joochan x reader

word count: 3.5k (!)

requested: "toothrotting fluff ft. joochan"

dedicated to @sahiflowers.

a/n: im SO SO sorry this took so long and i hope u like it even a little and that it makes u smile thank u for being so patient ily!! ily!!! reminder im always here for u!!

In which you find that time is meaningless when Joochan is not by your side.

wonderboy.

Sometimes, you speculate whether Joochan has some kind of genius for finding you as soon as the school bell rings, signalling the end of another day.

Today, he surprises you behind the auditorium where you lean against a maple tree, hugging your bag to your chest, because you’ve skipped your last period (Introduction to Psychology) in favor of lying on the grass so you can watch the clouds in peace. And Joochan smiles a fond, fond smile because you have that look on your face again that you only get when you’re lost in thought.

“Missed me?”

You tense from shock before relaxing at the sight of your boyfriend who widens his arms so you can walk right into them.

“How’d you find me?” Your voice is muffled in the fabric of his vest and Joochan reaches up so he can play with the back of your collar.

“Just had a little hunch you might be here.” And this is the answer he always gives, accompanied with the same smug smile each time.

You pout even if Joochan can’t see it. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“Well now,” he says in an affected voice that sounds like the narrator from that National Geographic documentary on penguins the two of you watched last week, “I can’t afford to have you getting your hands on all my secrets, can I? I’ve got to keep some things to myself so that in ten year's time, you’ll still think I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe.”

It’s ridiculous, you think, how it’s nearly winter but the way you can feel the laughter that starts in his chest and electrifies you to your fingertips is more than capable of keeping you warm and making you feel like you’re really alive.

“Doesn’t matter if I find out all your secrets or not,” you mumble, “you’ll always be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe to me.”

From the courtyard around the corner, you can hear Jaehyun shouting a loud “Oi Joochan!”.

Joochan ignores him and instead casually pecks your cheek with a kiss that feels like a blessing. “Always?”

You tilt your head as though unsure. "Well… for at least fifty years, probably.”

“Fifty?!” Joochan echoes in mock outrage, and you playfully poke his side to which he flinches slightly.

“I was lying. I meant for all of time ever.”

And despite him doing his best to hide it, your boyfriend melts instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck where he’s probably smiling his brilliant smile that feels like the sun against your skin.

Jaehyun’s voice interrupts the peace and quiet once again with a noticeably louder and more panicked tone.

“Hong Joochan! We’re going to be late for soccer practice!”

Joochan groans exaggeratedly and you can’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “Wish I didn’t have to go to stupid practice,” he grumbles.

“You know, I’ll wait for you in the library until you’re done,” you offer and Joochan perks up - if only slightly because your arms still feel like heaven after years of loving you, and two hours of kicking a ball around (while Donghyun and Jibeom brainstorm inventive ways to trip each other up, much to Coach Lee’s chagrin) just can’t compete. He tells you as much in the way his arms tighten around you.

“You’re the best,” Joochan declares suddenly, “I might be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe, but you’re the best.”

You snort. “Go to practice already before Jaehyun starts going spare, wonderboy.”

Joochan kisses your forehead one last time before he detaches himself from you with a dejected sigh and picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder despite your protests. “Walk with me to the oval?”

You slip your hand into his hand only to find it a perfect fit and wonder briefly if there is anywhere in this world you would not walk to with Hong Joochan, the boy who has a smile like sunlight and a personality like a billion shooting stars.

“Of course.”

fm.

There is the occasional moment in which you wish that your boyfriend wasn’t so exceedingly talented in nearly every field he tries his hand at, because the various extracurriculars that Joochan (being the naturally energetic and enthusiastic person he is) involves himself with have an awful way of making tremendous demands on his time towards the end of the semester.

Right now is one of those moments when Joochan trudges into your room and dives face first onto your bed without even bothering to shake his coat off. “So what was it today?” you ask in a voice that betrays your concern and Joochan can’t help but smile at it.

“Theatre rehearsal,” he yawns, “then string quartet practice. Also an hour of soccer drills with some of the boys. Even though it’s a Saturday.”

You get up from your chair at the desk so you can sit on the bed where Joochan immediately moves his head onto your lap, lifting your hand and resting it on his hair. You absentmindedly start stroking it, staring out the window at a soft grey sky.

“Did you eat?”

Joochan shakes his head. “No time. My dumb E string broke again so I barely managed to have half an apple before we went straight into a new Mozart piece today. Think we might perform it at the next concert. You’d come, right?” And he asks that in a self-assured tone, because he already knows what your answer is going to be.

You give it to him anyway because there’s no point in hiding your blatant admiration for all that he does. “No matter what.”

“And just to see me, right?”

You fake a pause that has Joochan peering up at you suspiciously.

“You do know I have friends who aren’t you that are participating in the concert, right? Like Jangjun and Sungyoon?”

Joochan scowls. “But none of those hooligans are your boyfriend, who - in case you forgot but I do know you’d never - is me.”

“That’s quite true,” you concede before leaning down to kiss his cheek with a smile that makes Joochan’s stomach fill with butterflies which are probably colored pink and green and blue. It never gets old, he thinks: your talent for turning his world upside down in a look or a word or an action. And you don’t even know you’re doing it most of the time.

“Mean,” he accuses but in a half-hearted manner and your smile only widens because you know that Joochan is supremely happy despite his exhaustion, if the way his brow has smoothed completely and he has started drawing little stars on your knee is anything to go by.

There’s a gentle lull in the conversation while you continue to run your fingers through Joochan’s hair, and especially his fringe. It’s almost as though time has passed you by, leaving you together in your own little reality where things like hazy futures and big concerts and broken violin strings do not dare draw near.

“Wanna order something later on for dinner?” you ask quietly.

“Maybe,” he grins through closed eyes, “but nap first.”

Your radio continues to run, and you drift in and out of listening to the DJ duo while watching the rain finally fall outside.

“It’s been pretty cold recently, hasn’t it?” one of the DJs opens the conversation after a small stream of ads.

“Sure has, pal. And speaking of the cold, apparently our first snow of the season is scheduled for next week Friday!”

“So do you have any plans lined up with a special someone?”

“Just had to remind me of how single I am, didn’t you”- rambunctious peals of laughter crackle from the speakers - “but maybe some of our lovely listeners will send in their plans for next Friday.”

“I sure did - and wow, they’re already pouring in! Do you wanna read one out?”

“Let’s see… Listener ha_miii_ran says: ‘I’m planning on confessing to my crush of two years. I’m pretty nervous about this so I’m hoping the two of you will wish me luck!’ All the best of luck to you, Ha Miran-nim, from the both of us. I don’t know how you’re planning on it, but hopefully the first snow will act as a good luck charm for you!”

“Yeah, good luck Ha Miran-nim!” the other DJ chimes in. “Be sure to update us on how it goes!”

“Well, we’ll be back with some more stories after this excerpt from a famous piano concerto - maybe some of our more classically-inclined audience will recognise its globally renowned composer.”

A beautiful melody begins to play and you’re on the cusp of losing yourself in the music when you are most abruptly interrupted by a sleepy, but decisive, “Gershwin.”

You blink down at Joochan. “What?”

“It’s Gershwin. The composer. Don't you think your boyfriend's clever for knowing that?"

“I thought my boyfriend was asleep, actually,” and you narrow your eyes.

“I was,” Joochan protests, “I only woke up when they were talking about the snow or something. And then they talked about that person who’s confessing to their crush of two years - got me thinking about how I can relate because I vividly remember having a crush on you for at least three before I could muster up the courage to confess. Which ended up working out for the best, you know,” he adds in a thoughtful tone, “but sometimes I’d get so nervous just thinking about it that I couldn’t sleep at all. Anyways, I’m really hungry now, so can we order something soon please?”

Maybe it’s the way he so nonchalantly wears his heart for you on his sleeve, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you as though you have strung the Milky Way itself together and made a gift of it to him. Maybe it’s the way you simply realize that you might not be able to live with yourself if you were to lose your boyfriend, ever. But for whatever reason it is, a thousand smiles bloom in your heart and you lean down to give Joochan a kiss that hopefully tastes like everything you cannot possibly put into words.

“Anything you want,” you whisper, and Joochan draws a heart on your knee in response.

enchanted.

You’re outside the auditorium again but in front of it, this time, and not behind. The post-concert hubbub has died down, mostly owing to the fact that much of the audience has left already whether it’s to a late congratulatory supper or down to the boardwalk where fireworks are scheduled to go off at midnight. The bouquet of lily of the valleys in your hand trembles slightly as you use your other hand to fumble around for your ringing phone.

“Hello?”

“You’re waiting outside, right?” Joochan asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“See, Donghyun, I told you I was right about - wait. Wait! Don't move!”

And then you have less than two seconds to process exactly what is happening before your boyfriend catches you up in a running embrace that sends the world spinning in a flurry of snow and stars and kisses that Joochan plants all over your cheeks. He remains blissfully unaware that somewhere in the vicinity, Donghyun has started making gagging sounds at your very public display of affection, punctuated by Jaehyun’s giggling. (You pay them no mind.)

“Did you enjoy the concert?” he asks, fond expectation twinkling in his eyes.

You nod too much. “You were incredible,” you tell him honestly, and Joochan beams.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he says in a satisfied voice as he pulls you closer. “Guess all those hours of practice paid off.”

“It’s almost like that’s the whole point of practicing,” you tease.

“It’s lucky you’re cute and I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Joochan crinkles his nose in contrived distaste for your little jab before hugging you again so he can hear you whisper just how proud you are of him, right into his ear.

And the two of you stay like that for a little before you remember the gift you brought with you.

“For me?” And the look in his eyes reminds you of how he looked at you when you first told him that you loved him too - or maybe of every time you’ve told him that you love him too.

“Who else?”

He snaps up the bouquet, pressing it against his nose and inhaling deeply with a smile. "This is a nice surprise."

"They mean 'return to happiness'," you say, gently touching a little white bloom that looks like a star against the backdrop of Joochan's black school blazer. "Thought it was cute. And the florist was sold out of roses anyway."

Joochan laughs with the warmth of a thousand sunbeams and puts your hand in his so he can start gently tugging you away.

“But your violin”- you begin protesting.

“But nothing,” he shushes you as the school gets smaller and smaller behind you in the distance. “I don’t even want to see that thing for a week. Hey, and guess what - I found a secret place for just you and me so we can watch the fireworks without being pressed up against everyone else like sardines in a tin can.”

“You and I are going to watch the fireworks?” you echo, surprise colouring your voice.

Joochan’s exhale turns into a giggle. “Who else?” And you dig an elbow into his side, hiding a smile at his antics.

The two of you stroll down quiet streets and you lean into your boyfriend’s comforting warmth. Most shops are closed with the exception of some fast food chains and convenience stores, but you notice almost none of them now as Joochan picks up the pace, his excitement bleeding into the quiet song he sings that floats up in the air and is lost somewhere in the stars above.

“Here we are,” says Joochan proudly and he helps you up into the little gazebo at the top of the hill you hadn’t realized you were climbing. “Take this,” he adds as he tosses you a torch that brightly illuminates the space you’re in as soon as you switch it on. You turn to the rustling sounds on your left, finally seeing the wooden bench that Joochan is busy spreading a rug over.

“You planned this beforehand?” And there’s a note of wonder in your voice - the same kind that only Joochan ever seems to be able to evoke. “I thought we were going straight home.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him with a charming smile and you do so immediately. “Told you I can’t give up all the secrecy. Not yet.” Or, he thinks privately to himself, not when you look at him like that.

The golden light from the torch casts long shadows over the grass and gives Joochan’s face a nearly ethereal glow that reminds you of summer sunsets despite the cold. You slip into a soft and easy silence - one that comes from memories built upon memories, resulting in a code made up of gazes and touch that only the two of you will ever understand. And so when he squeezes your hand gently, you instantly open your arms for him to sink right into.

There’s only a few minutes left until midnight when you finally speak.

“Joochan,” you murmur.

“Mm?”

“You ever think about where we’ll be this time next year?”

Joochan shifts his posture slightly. “Often, actually. Especially when I go to sleep at night and think about tomorrow - then I’ll wonder if it’ll even remotely go the way I want it to.”

“And how do you usually want it to go?” you ask.

“Someone has a lot of questions today,” Joochan remarks with a droll look on his face that makes you laugh briefly before his expression sobers. “But usually I want it to go safely. You know? Everything in its proper place and things like that. And more importantly, I want to know all the time that I’ll be able to see you.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking out over the view of the city. If you squint, you can just make out the boardwalk by the beach and the crowds of people who have gathered there, young and old alike. “I’m scared sometimes.”

Joochan frowns. “Scared of what? I’ll fight it off for you,” and he waves a threatening fist at nothing in particular.

“The future, I guess. It sounds silly but… sometimes I don’t know if we’ll always be okay. Like this, the way things are right now. Whether it’s tomorrow or next year or even after that.” Your voice fades in volume until it’s nearly lost against the threads of your scarf, and Joochan’s heart breaks a little when he hears it: the genuine uncertainty and timid fear that seeps past the smile you give him in an effort to hide it.

“Why do you think we might not be okay?”

You look down at your feet, almost embarrassed by your own honesty. “Well, people… change, Joo. They move places, and have goals to achieve and dreams to chase down. And we’re not immune to that either.”

It’s Joochan’s turn to be silent for a bit as he mulls over your words before he straightens in your hold, turning his face towards you so he can affectionately bump his nose against yours. “You’re right,” he says in a voice that mirrors your sadness, “and it would be a lie to say I don’t think about the same things you do. But”- and he leans in to give you a quick kiss that’s shaped like a smile - “it’d also be a lie to say that every dream doesn’t feature you in it. Because every dream of mine that I’ve ever had places you centre stage.”

He kisses you again, a little longer - a little more wistfully.

“You see, the real problem here is that you have me perpetually thinking that I can’t do any of this without you,” he says simply. “Whether it’s late night phone calls or early morning messages; or maybe we’ll find ourselves having to book flights for each other, holding bags full of gifts that remind us of us. And maybe it’ll be hard and maybe I’ll wake up some days, knowing I won’t be able to see you. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be okay.”

You swallow and Joochan watches you carefully, the urgency in his eyes prompting him to lift your chin so you can see it too.

“Even if we change,” he continues in a whisper, hoping you will understand the heart in his words. “And we should. And we will, and we’ll still be okay. You believe me, don’t you? Seeing as I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe?”

Somewhere, midnight comes and goes and the fireworks start, dousing you and Joochan in bursts of coloured light.

“Of course I do,” you smile with eyes that glitter with tears of relief and he pulls you into a tight hug, so tight you can feel every movement of his rib cage as he breathes in and out.

For once, you do not feel that fear deep down that threatens to taint your time with the only boy you think you cannot live without. And so you unreservedly hold him in return, fingers running through his hair as he tells you that he loves you, over and over again.

up, up and away.

There had been a time during your childhood when your one greatest wish had been to go see the stars.

So your friend Joochan, in all his clumsy sincerity, had done his best to make you a rocket out of a box he’d found at home. He’d then brought it to your house after he’d finished it, blue marker staining his fingertips and glitter shaped like stars lost in his thick fringe.

The two of you had sat in it together and looked up at the moon, holding hands from childish innocence and recounting thrilling tales of adventures you’d never had. And before having to go home to bed that day, he’d made you a promise that present-day Joochan complains about not being able to fulfill.

“I know I said I’d take you to the stars,” Joochan sighs in displeasure from where he lies on your bed, right next to you, “but while your boyfriend is exceptionally talented, you do know I’m no astronaut, right?”

You hold his hand in response and look into his eyes that sparkle with mirth and deeper in, shine with a love that always gives you peace.

It may be that Joochan will never be able to keep his promise of taking you to space in a real, functioning rocket. But, as you drop a kiss on his mouth that soon widens into a brilliant smile, you can’t find it in yourself to really care.

After all, it’s hard to miss the stars when for you, they all start with Joochan and end with him.

if u liked this please consider dropping a like and reblogging with ur thoughts because feedback is!! always appreciated thank you!!!

#SCREAMS IT'S FINALLY DONE WITH I'M FINALLY FINISHED #golden child #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #hong joochan #golden child hong joochan #golden child joochan #joochan #ju writes #gncd #golcha #im now off to go cry. or nap. both

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soprano193 · 4 years

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Not a Couple

Chapter 8

Jane:

It only took thirteen seconds for Jane's more sophisticated friend to comment on her outfit. After placing her two suitcases in the back of the cab and hopping in the backseat with Jane, she eyed her friend with eyebrows raised. "Jane, I thought you were kidding about the sweats!"

"I was. Mostly." She laughed to herself as she realized how odd of a pair they made, Jane in her black sweats and a Red Sox tee, and Maura with a pencil skirt and green flowy blouse. "Maura, are you comfortable?" Jane asked, gesturing down to the Doctor's heels.

"Comfortable enough." Her answer was non-committal, accompanied by a shrug of her shoulders. So she wasn't comfortable.

"Maur, we're going to be on a plane for seven hours. The driver can wait a few extra minutes for you to change into something comfortable for the trip."

For a moment, it seemed like the honey blonde would accept the offer to change, or at least pick out more comfortable shoes. But with a shake of her head, Maura resigned herself to her choices. "I'll be fine. I've flown many times in this exact outfit." At her words, the cab lurched forward, headed to Logan.

"Hey, as long as you're comfy."

Her friend laughed. "Well, I can see you are!" From her purse, she pulled out a legal pad, flipping through the pages. "I updated my itinerary. I was up for a while, adding you to my plans, and finding new things that might interest us both." As she chatted away about palaces, catacombs, and cathedrals, Jane watched her face, wondering again in awe how she kept so much information inside her brain. Maura must have seen the look on Jane's face, and stopped her rambling to look at the former Detective, her brows furrowed. "What?"

"Nothing. Just watching your giant brain work." At this, Jane swore she saw the hint of a blush creeping up on her friend's face. Looking down at the legal pad, her eyes fixated on Maura's tidy scrawl. "So, did you pack our days, or did you give us some wiggle room?"

"I picked things that would interest us both, and left days for relaxation and writing in between."

"And in all this planning, did you manage to get any sleep?"

Her friend paused. "Not much. But, I planned a two-day recovery so that we can start to adjust our internal clocks." Maura glances at her, hazel eyes studying her face. "What about you? You left pretty late."

"I didn't sleep. I had a few things to finish packing into the Pod so they can store it for me. And I had to add a few nicer outfits to my suitcase." At Maura's pleased smile, Jane grinned. "Besides, I figured we could sleep on the plane."

"Oh, but we shouldn't!" Maura's outburst startled even the cab driver. "When we get to Paris, it will be nighttime. We should try to stay awake on the plane, and then sleep when we get there. It would be beneficial for our internal clocks."

"Maura! You're telling me that I should stay awake for two days voluntarily?"

She giggled. "You've stayed awake before!"

Jane groaned. "During cases, Maur. When there's a body dump and a killer on the loose. There's a difference." They continued to laugh, talk, and plan during their short ride to Logan. Check-in was quick in the early morning before the busy period started. And they were through security after about 30 minutes.

Once in the terminal, Jane wasted no time searching for a store with coffee. She sent a silent prayer to the coffee Gods when around the corner from their gate was a Boston Joe's kiosk. "Maura, coffee." It was a statement rather than a question, and her friend only nodded in response.

"I'm heading to our gate. I'll meet you there."

Jane nodded in response, tapping her friend on the shoulder before jumping in the back of the line. She almost didn't notice the way Maura stiffened at the contact. As she watched the Doctor walk away, she brushed the stiffness off, figuring it had to be exhaustion.

The line was moving slow. There was only one worker behind the counter and several tired travelers looking for a pick-me-up. After the first customer, her phone chimed. A message from Davies.

C: I heard you were starting late. I hope you're not backing out?

J: I'm not, I promise. Just taking a long-deserved vacation to Paris with Maura.

C: Ah, the City of Love. I've heard great things. Send me pictures?

J: I will. See you in a month.

C: Have fun, Jane.

When she got to the counter, she ordered Maura's non-fat latte with no foam, and her own latte with a triple shot. "My travel companion won't let me sleep on the plane." She explained to the barista, who seemed unfazed by the amount of espresso she was pouring into the former Detective's drink. Coffee firmly in her hands, Jane made her way to the gate.

Maura sat in a chair by the windows, her laptop out as she typed away. "What are you working on?" Passing her friend her drink, she watched Maura's screen.

"Well, my plan for this vacation was to change my scenery and write. I figured I might as well now since I probably won't on the plane." She took a sip of her drink, grinning when she saw the stevia packets in Jane's hand. "Thank you. I have something for you, too." She passed over her boarding pass, her finger lingering over the seat number.

It took Jane a second, but once she saw it, she grinned. "You got your seat changed!"

"I did. The person next to you was happy to switch."

"I call the window seat." This made Maura laugh, which made Jane's heart jump up to her chest. Making Maura laugh was one of her favorite pastimes. It would be hard in a month when she couldn't do that every day. Trying to distract herself from her worries, Jane pulled out her phone. "I should tell Ma we made it to the airport safely."

"I already texted her."

Grinning, Jane watched her friend out of the corner of her eye. "Okay, so I'll watch a movie then." Fishing her headphones out of her pocket, she pulled up Netfix and started a random movie. But instead of watching the movie, she read what Maura was typing.

If Maura noticed the intrusion, she didn't let on. She flipped between her word processor and a scanned version of her outline often. At one point she switched to a page filled with character information, adding to it, expanding on her points. When she hesitated, Jane would watch her face, how her jaw would set and her eyes would narrow as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say. Or her small, satisfied smile when she'd written something she liked. Watching Maura's face change as she wrote made Jane want to read her book even more.

On the plane, each passenger had their own little TV on the backs of the chairs in front of them. Once in the air, Maura found archeological documentaries, the kind that had the British narrators that made Jane fall asleep. Jane opted for something with more explosions, to help keep her awake. Unfortunately, around three hours in, she was struggling to keep her eyes open. She tapped her companion, who pulled out an earbud. "I know we're supposed to stay awake, but what's it gonna hurt to take a little nap?"

The Doctor raised her eyebrows at her in response. "Well, it won't hurt, but the time difference and jet lag can be unpleasant. You'll be prone to irritability, fatigue, indigestion, and headaches."

"Maur, I'm already fatigued, and am halfway to irritable. I need to sleep."

"Well, I won't stop you." Her friend's response was all she needed to hear. From her carry-on luggage, Jane pulled out the matching leopard U-shaped pillow that came with her bag. Her friend's laughter didn't stop her from putting it around her neck and against the plane wall. "Sleep well, Jane."

Despite her exhaustion, sleeping on a plane was proving to be very difficult. Every little movement she could feel, and she had never been great at sleeping while sitting. As she was about to give up and complain, looking to Maura for support, she found her friend with eyelids fluttering, her chin resting on her fist. "Maur," She started, making the Doctor startle, "get some rest. You're tired."

The honey blonde shook her head, blinking her hazel eyes. "I can't. I don't want to be irritable."

"Maura, you're with me. I'll forgive you." Jane felt her face soften as she tugged her friend to her, letting Maura rest her head on Jane's shoulder. As Maura snuggled in, letting sleep get the best of her, Jane rested her head on top of Maura's, finally losing consciousness.

They were awoken by the flight attendants, who were preparing for landing. Announcements were made over the speaker that they were approaching their destination. Jane lifted her shade to see what was going on. Maura peering over her shoulder, Jane held her breath until they landed safely on another continent.

It took them almost two hours to clear customs, their bags being the last off the plane. Maura hailed a taxi outside to take them to their hotel. Inside the cab, she spoke perfect French with the driver, which Jane watched in awe. Too tired to even try to follow the conversation, she instead opted to text her Mother, making sure she knew they arrived.

The cab dropped them off at a hotel walking distance from the tower. It looked huge, lit up in the night, glowing beacons shining in the air. Jane could feel her mouth opening as she took it all in. Sure, she knew they were in another country, far from home, but seeing the tower like that, so close, that's when it hit her. She was in Paris. With Maura.

As her friend entered her thoughts, she felt a hand slip into hers and tug it, pulling her gently along the sidewalk. "Jane, come on."

"Pinch me."

The Doctor's laughter was gentle, as she pulled herself into Jane's side, lacing their fingers together. "Why would I want to do that?"

Jane squeezed the younger woman's hand. "So I know this is real." The light chuckle and grin that adorned Maura's face, her dimples showing as she walked backward, it almost outshone the tower.

Their room had a view of the Tower from the balcony. Jane stood at the full-length windows and stared for just a bit longer before being pulled out of her trance by the blonde Doctor placing pills into her hands. "Melatonin. It should help with the jet lag." At Jane's quirked eyebrow, she continued. "It will help you sleep." Jane didn't question it further, and accepted the glass of water her friend held out. The honey-blonde made her way across the room to the bathroom, gathering some clothing from her opened bag as she went. "As much as I want to unpack, I also feel like it's important that we sleep." Jane took the opportunity while her friend was getting ready to change clothes, drawing the curtains closed. "I'm worried that it will be difficult given our nap on the plane."

"I'm not," Jane answered back as she yawned, throwing her travel clothes in a pile and climbing under the covers on her side of the bed. "I think that melanin you gave me is kicking in." As she closed her eyes, she heard her friend chuckle, her footsteps coming closer to the bed. By the time Maura had set up her phone charger and joined Jane under the covers, Jane was asleep.

When her eyes opened next, the clock on the side of the bed shone back at her. 3:42 am. Part of her wanted to groan and fall back asleep, but she woke feeling refreshed. Blaming it on the time change, she turned to face Maura.

Maura was still asleep, her breathing even, her face serene. Despite the long day of travel, her hair was still in perfect waves which sloped gracefully over the curve of her cheek. Jane reached over to brush a stray piece out of her eyes, and felt her breath hitch as she waited to see if Maura woke. Instead, it seemed as if the blonde smiled at Jane's touch, relaxing more in her slumber. Jane felt her heart flip at the intimacy of the moment, realizing that the only other person who would ever experience this was Maura's eventual spouse. It was a strange honor to see the well put together Doctor in such a vulnerable place, and Jane scoffed as she realized that she was jealous of a person who didn't exist yet.

Pushing her thoughts from her head, Jane decided to peruse Facebook, looking at photos from her friends back home. After a few minutes, when she remembered where they were, she climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb her sleeping companion. Walking to the window, she pulled it open and stared out in awe. The Tower's lights were off, but she could still make out the imposing figure in the darkness. The lights absolutely added to its beauty, but just knowing it was there sent shivers down her spine.

The hand pressed into the small of her back had surprised her, but instead of jumping, she leaned back into it, until Maura's arm wrapped around her and she situated herself at Jane's hip. "The lights stop at 1 am." Maura's voice was soft, like she was afraid to break the serenity of the moment.

"I wasn't complaining." She felt Maura chuckle beside her. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"You didn't." The reassurance made Jane let out her breath, relaxing more into her friend's embrace. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just about ten minutes. I remembered where we were and thought I'd admire the view."

"That's a good plan." Maura stood with her, looking out at the Tower, street lamps, trees, and buildings that they could see from their window. "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

Jane turned her head to look at her friend. Her face was lit up by the glow of the moonlight, her mouth pulled up in the corners, her eyes wide as they looked around the city. Jane was looking at Maura when she answered. "Yeah. Gorgeous."

________________________________________________________________

They spent the first few days adjusting their internal clocks. As much as Jane wanted to explore this foreign city, she also was glad for the time to reacclimate. They found a few coffee shops and restaurants near them and went grocery shopping for some fruits and other things to have in the room. Maura dedicated two hours each day to writing, time that Jane had decided to dedicate to reading or Duolingo. She wouldn't be fluent, but at least she could ask where the bathroom was and understand the response.

Maura set up their first outing, keeping the plans to herself. "At least tell me if I need to dress up."

"No need. Dress comfortably." This was all the permission Jane needed to pull out her BPD sweatpants and a comfy t-shirt. Maura only shook her head, not saying a word, a smile on her face.

"You said 'comfortably'!" Jane shouted in an accusatory tone at Maura's face.

"I did, I wasn't planning on saying anything." Her friend laughed as Jane changed, and she chattered away about lunch plans, when she wanted to write, and her desire to take ridiculous touristy photos.

Jane assured her that they would take all the photos she wanted to. "We need more pictures together, anyway. And my new apartment will need decorating." It was the first time in days that Jane had mentioned her upcoming move, and almost immediately she regretted it. She could see the flash of sadness on Maura's face, her hands fidgeting, followed by her immediate compartmentalization. Trying to bring levity to the room again, Jane smiled. "So tell me more about this adventure."

Maura brought her on a guided tour of the Catacombs. If anyone else had brought her, she would have found it creepy. Most people don't tour graveyards. But this was different. Jane learned about the transfer of hundreds of bodies from overflowing cemeteries to underground quarries, under the cover of darkness so citizens wouldn't be alarmed. They walked along corridors with bones lining the walls in elegant patterns, their tour guide explaining the painstaking work that went into the design. Unable to resist, Jane leaned over to Maura and whispered, "this looks like a scene right out of Scooby-Doo." The Doctor's stifled laughter and the looks of other tourists were worth the glare of the guide.

At a Cafe along the Seine, while eating sandwiches and sipping wine, a woman approached and spoke with Maura. Jane was not proficient enough to figure out what the woman was saying, but watched as a flustered Maura blushed and answered her back. The woman gave an awkward smile and rushed away, nodding at Jane as she left. Not wanting to be left out, Jane looked at the still red blonde, waiting for an answer to her unasked question. Maura gave a nervous chuckle before explaining. "She said she thought we made a cute couple."

Jane furrowed her brows and looked toward the door, where the woman had made a quick exit. "What brought that on?" Looking at the way they were sitting, she didn't notice anything different. They weren't any more affectionate than usual, although she was aware that some people found their affection for one another unusual. Shrugging, she turned back to the younger woman. "I mean, I know we aren't the last people to be approached awkwardly in public. Frankie and Nina get a comment monthly about how beautiful their baby will be." She took a sip of wine. "And it was only Ma once."

This made Maura laugh, her fingers trailing along the bottom of her wine glass. "Your mother says a lot of intrusive things. And asks a lot of questions. It's endearing."

"It's annoying."

Laughing, Maura took a sip of her wine before gesturing to the door, where the woman had left. "What kind of questions do you think your Mother would ask us?"

"If we were in a relationship?" Jane clarified before continuing, waiting for the nod of the Doctor's head. "Probably the same thing she would ask any lesbian couple. Who pays for dinner? Who asks who on the date? Who is going to carry her grandchildren, because so far only one of her children has succeeded in that?"

"Which one is the man?" Maura added, her eyebrows raised at that last word as she waited to watch Jane's reaction.

"Yes, she would ask that. And I thought we established years ago that I would be the guy." Jane smiled to herself as she remembered that case at Merch, going undercover, turning her head and being face to face with Maura's…

"But Jane, isn't the point of a same-sex relationship, that neither one of us is 'the guy'?"

Maura punctuated her words with air quotations, making Jane snort. "You do have a point there, Maur."

Both women dropped the conversation and went back to their meals. It wasn't the first time they had flirted with the idea of dating one another. But for once, it was the first time Jane had felt sorry to see the conversation end. As Maura ate, jotting things down about the setting that she could use in her story later, Jane wondered how her Mother would react to her dating the younger blonde. She had always seen Maura as another daughter, and certainly treated her with as much kindness as she treated the rest of her children. Plus, Maura was a Doctor, so she had that going for her.

"Jane." Her friend's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Jane's nod was slow as she blinked herself to reality. "Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking that I haven't texted Ma in a few days, I should do that." Maura accepted this response, her eyes floating back to her notebook. Jane let out a breath, careful not to draw attention to herself. She did send out a quick text to her mother, along with a photo of Maura next to a skull. It looks like you girls are having a great time. Looking back at Maura, Jane smiled. Maura was very concentrated on her descriptions, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. Every so often she would look up, cock her head as she looked at something, then scribble down another description. Jane found the sight amusing, yet endearing. Watching, she realized that before she worried about how her Mother would react, she needed to figure out her own feelings first.

________________________________________________________________

A few days later, they visited the Louvre. Jane had never been a fan of art museums, but she knew that this was the trip Maura didn't want to miss. "This is where the Mona Lisa is, right? Let's go see it first, and look at all these other things later."

Maura grabbed her hand, pulling her back to the Doctor's side. "No." She said it in a matter-of-fact tone that made Jane stop. "Everyone goes there first. The best thing to do is wait until closing time, when crowds have thinned."

Jane couldn't help but groan. That was the only piece of artwork that even slightly piqued her interest. Holding a map of the vast museum in her hands, she sighed, ignoring the amused look on Maura's face. "Fine. As long as we still get to see it."

"I promise, you'll see it." Maura giggled, pulling her into a room.

The museum proved to be more interesting than Jane had anticipated. For one, it was interesting to see how many "Virgin and Child" sculptures could fit in a single room. Walking through the sculptures, Jane watched the progression and noted the subtle differences in style. Meanwhile, Maura chatted away, throwing out words like 'gothic', or 'renaissance' off the top of her head. Jane never needed to read a plaque, or plug in and listen. She had a walking encyclopedia who was raised by an art teacher at her side.

As they made their way into the rooms with Roman and Greek statues, they came across one that Jane recognized immediately. "Maura, please tell me there's not a body in it this time."

Her friend paused before answering, her head cocked to one side. "That would be highly unlikely, but I can't rule it out."

Shaking her head, Jane linked elbows with her, pulling her forward. "Well go stand next to it so I can get a picture."

"What? Why?"

"You wanted to take touristy photos! This is a touristy photo." She positioned Maura next to the giant sculpture and backed away until she could fit both in her picture. "Maur, pose like the statue."

"What should I do with my arms?" She waved them around for emphasis.

"Whatever you want. Imagine what she may have been doing." Reluctantly, Maura did just that. Her left knee angled and her body twisted slightly, she placed her right arm over her stomach, and her left pushed forward, as if holding up a mirror. Jane snapped the picture, walking back toward her friend. "Very intellectual, Maura. Do me." Jane stood in the same place, waiting for Maura to get her framing right. Once she held up her phone, Jane extended her arms to the left side of her body and started swaying her hips like she was doing the hula. Laughing, Maura took her picture, her head shaking.

As she approached, she held her arm out, lacing it back through Jane's elbow as they fell back into step. "It's highly unlikely that anyone in ancient Greece would know how to hula." She wore a smile on her face, knowing full well that Jane was messing with her.

"Well, I'll take my chances. You could be wrong this one time."

"Perhaps." The Doctor conceded with a smile, pulling Jane into another room.

The best part of the Louvre was definitely watching Maura. The way she examined every detail of the paintings and sculptures, her hazel eyes darting around, taking them all in. The way she spouted facts like it was nothing, again making Jane wonder where she kept all that information. It was, of all things, stone statues of winged bulls with human heads, that made Maura stop in her tracks. Jane understood it to a point, they were massive and made her feel small. Jane placed her hand in the small of Maura's back, trying to move her along, but her feet were planted. "Tell me what you're thinking, Maur."

"It's just," she gestured in the air, her hands not settling on any one thing, "these statues are over three thousand years old, Jane. And made from stone. And they're so well preserved, and detailed, and here. It's amazing."

Jane had a memory at that moment, of Maura going on about being in awe of what human beings can do. It was endearing at the time, but now, seeing it in action, watching the look on her face, Jane knew this was incredible for her. "Yeah. It's amazing." She responded, her eyes fixated on her friend's face.

They made it to see the Mona Lisa before closing, Jane shocked to realize just how small it was. She then dragged her friend to take more photos in the gardens and along the Place de la Concorde. Then they returned to their hotel room so Maura could write. While Maura worked on her project, Jane recounted the memories from the day. Maura's laughter at her dancing, her never-ending knowledge that she shared so willingly, and that look of awestruck wonder that made her so beautiful. Looking across the room at Maura, Jane felt her stomach sink as she thought about leaving. This trip was making everything so hard.

________________________________________________________________

It was during a morning writing session that Jane realized that Maura was staring at her. She tried to ignore it at first, returning to her phone, but every time she looked up, Maura was looking at her. "Am I distracting you? I can go work out for a bit if I'm bothering you."

"No, please don't." She closed the top of her laptop. "I'm describing you."

"Why?" Jane's brows furrowed as she looked at her friend, her phone falling to her lap.

"They told me my characters and setting were flat. I need to practice using my senses to make people and characters come alive." With that, she reopened her laptop, going back to typing.

"Does it have to be me?" Jane asked as she watched Maura look up at her again.

"Whom else do you suggest I describe?" At this Jane shrugged, picking her phone back up and listening to the green owl teach her French. At one point, she looked over and saw Maura watching her again, her eyes focused on Jane's feet dangling in the chair. Jane began to wiggle them, making Maura roll her eyes. "You have to pretend I'm not watching you. Act natural."

Jane returned her feet to normal, stilling them. "Okay, bossy." This elicited a chuckle from the Doctor, putting a small smile on Jane's face. Jane decided to focus on her Duolingo, finding her French skills improving. When Maura closed her laptop, standing once the hour was up, Jane held out a hand for the Doctor's device. "Do I get to read it?"

Maura's eyes grew wide as she held her computer close to her. "No. It's private."

"Maura! You wrote about me! I should be able to read it!" She was pouting as she whined, her hands opening and closing.

The Doctor chuckled at the sight in front of her, shaking her head. "No, Jane. It's private. And it's not important, it was just an exercise." At Jane's huff of displeasure, she continued. "But give me a few days, I want you to read my revisions on my manuscript."

Playing up her disappointment, Jane huffed. "Fine. That kind of makes up for your secrecy." The only response from the Doctor was more chuckling as she tucked away her computer and changed for the day.

________________________________________________________________

The day they went to Notre Dame, it was rainy. Maura fretted in their hotel room about her hair, and the rain messing it up. "It's the perfect day to pull it back, then." Jane tried to reason with her as she redressed. "You always look nice when you pull it back."

"You think so?" The honey-blonde poked her head out from the bathroom, her hair gathered in her hands as she looked toward the former Detective.

"I do." Taking this positive response, the Doctor disappeared. If Jane was being honest, her friend always looked amazing. No matter what she decided to do with her hair, or what outfit she chose to wear, she always looked amazing. "Do you think I would lie about that?"

Emerging from the bathroom with a smile and high ponytail, the younger woman reached for her umbrella and purse. "I think if you thought it would get me out of the room faster, you might."

Stopping Maura from leaving with her hand on the door, Jane made sure to look in her eyes, her face soft as she spoke. "You're gorgeous, my friend."

Maura stifled her smile, as any humble person would. "Somehow that sounds familiar."

"Yeah, a know-it-all told me that, once." With a chuckle, they left, walking side by side.

Upon entering the cathedral, Jane crossed herself before she lost her breath. Maura's hand in the small of her back kept her moving, but her eyes hadn't come down yet. The ceilings were so high, the room so large, she felt small in comparison. Maura walked at her pace through it all, allowing her to examine the artwork and the architecture. They both stopped to stare at one of the rose windows, high in the air, and at that moment Jane knew what Maura meant when she said that she was in awe of what humans could do.

While admiring the high ceilings and stained glass, Maura's voice pulled her out of her trance, low and reverent as she admired the cathedral. "Standing here as a non-believer, I have to admit that I understand." She met Jane's eyes, and continued at her furrowed brows and curious look. "I mean, just being in here makes me feel insignificant. Like there has to be something else out there, something bigger than myself. It's easy to see why many turn to religious beliefs when they are looking for something more."

Grabbing the younger woman's hand, Jane gave it a squeeze. "You know you're significant, right?"

She nodded. "I do. And I hope you know that too." Jane realized she was blushing, heat rising to her cheeks as she saw Maura's genuine smile. She gently moved Jane along to discover more within the walls.

They stumbled upon an altar with a picture of the Virgin and Child in the background. Red and white flags (Polish, Maura told her with a smile) hung on either side. The picture depicted the mother and Jesus with dark complexions, brilliant gold halos on top of their heads. Maura began talking about Black Madonnas found elsewhere in Europe. "Considering Jesus was reportedly middle eastern, these paintings would be more historically accurate," she explained, as Jane pulled her to see more stained glass windows.

It was the window that seemed to depict a journey that caught Maura's attention, her eyes following the detail. The light shone through this window just right, making Maura's face glow in shades of red, a stray strand of hair grazing against her cheek. Jane's heart skipped a beat, her stomach fluttered, and she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around the awe inspiring woman she called her best friend. Before she could stop it, she spoke. "So beautiful."

Maura, not moving her eyes from the window, answered back. "Yeah, it is."

As their vacations began to come to a close, Jane found it harder and harder to imagine returning to a life without Maura. They talked about plans, Jane's moving process, Skype schedules, and holidays. As much as Jane didn't want to think about it, she knew planning was the best way to combat Maura's anxiety about her leaving. As for her, she was happy to wake up next to Maura every day, to watch her as she slept, to see the subtle changes in her face as she wrote. It was in the quiet of one of those moments, when she had to resist the urge to press a gentle kiss to her lips, that Jane realized what she was walking away from. That she may be leaving the love of her life along with her family to pursue this next step in her career. Sometimes it made her question her decision.

________________________________________________________________

Their last big tour was to Versailles. The grounds were large, the gardens full, and Jane had to fight to keep her face neutral as Maura twirled in the hall of mirrors like a little girl. "Jane, can you imagine attending a ball in the past?"

"What, with the tight bodices, and the hoop skirts so wide they make your ass look huge?" Maura laughed, and Jane felt a pull in her gut. "Yeah, I'm gonna pass."

"Jane! You looked amazing in your Revolutionary War dress." Her hands played with the edges of Jane's jacket. "It would be like that, but with more frills."

"Maura, when would I ever say 'more frills'?" Maura laughed at her, dropping the jacket and moving away, and for a moment Jane wondered if she felt it too. Pushing down her feelings, she continued as normal. "What, are you gonna teach me to waltz too?"

"Oh, not the Waltz." She turned away and wandered down the hall, knowing Jane would follow behind her. "The Waltz only became popular after the Revolution, after the palace at Versailles fell out of use."

"Well, excuse me for being ahead of my time." She couldn't help but laugh with Maura as she turned back around to face the taller woman, walking backwards in the hall.

"If it helps, I've always admired that about you." She caught sight of herself in the mirrors and twirled, slow and graceful, making Jane glad she still had her phone out to capture it on camera. She thought back to that revolutionary war era dress, Maura done up in frills and bows, her hair in a graceful yet intricate updo, and she remembered how beautiful she looked that day. If only she had realized what was right in front of her sooner.

They made their way into another room, either the war room or the peace room. Jane wasn't paying attention as Maura spoke, and was instead looking at all the gold that adorned the walls. "How rich do you have to be to cover all the walls with gold?"

"Gilded bronze." Maura corrected, admiring the large circular painting on the wall.

"Okay. How rich do you need to be to cover all the walls with gilded bronze?"

Maura laughed at the question, bringing a smile to Jane's face. She pointed behind them, into the hallway. "Actually, the real impressive thing here is the mirrors."

"The mirrors are impressive?"

Maura nodded, looking into Jane's eyes as she spoke. "Yes, mirrors in the 18th century were very expensive, only the elite could afford them. That whole hallway was meant to remind allies and enemies how rich the French monarchy was."

Glancing back to the hallway, Jane couldn't help but scoff. "That's a lot of money to blow on an ego boost."

"I found the effect rather striking. Didn't you?" Maura wasn't looking at her anymore as she spoke, her head tilted upward as she examined paintings on the ceiling.

Thinking back to Maura in the hall of mirrors, twirling as she caught sight of herself, Jane couldn't help but smile. "The effect was definitely striking." Her friend laughed at Jane's tone before taking a hold of her hand, pulling her to another room.

When they finished in the palace, Jane pulled Maura into the gardens. Maura had told her they were almost three times the size of Central Park. They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening looking at trees in boxes, hunting down fountains, and watching water shows in the most elaborate outdoor setting Jane had ever seen. The few pictures she took of Maura near some blossoms she knew she would treasure forever.

________________________________________________________________

"Let's go somewhere nice to eat." Maura's voice pulled Jane from her haze. It was their last day in the city of lights, that fact made more real as Jane checked into her flight. "I can get us reservations at a restaurant near the Tower."

"I'm not opposed." The words sent her friend into a flurry of activity. Between looking at review, getting changed, and making calls, she was all over the room in varying stages of undress. It wasn't the first time she had seen the Doctor in varying stages of undress. A month ago it would have been just another day in their lives. But now Jane found herself looking away, trying to forget how her creamy skin contrasted with her deep purple bra. She breathed a sigh of relief as Maura emerged from the bathroom in a pink blouse, her hair straight instead of her usual loose curls.

"I've found a restaurant." She said with a triumphant grin. "Get dressed, we leave in a half an hour."

Jane pulled her one good white blouse out of her suitcase. It had black piping along the edges and down the center of the shirt. This paired with her black pants was as fancy as she was willing to get. Emerging from the bathroom, she breathed a sigh of relief at Maura's nod of approval. She had added a rose gold bracelet to her ensemble, as well as some simple silver earrings. "You look great." Jane breathed, hoping it didn't sound as awkward as it made her feel.

"Thank you. That top is stunning on you." The returned compliment made the former Detective blush. "I haven't seen it before."

"Ma picked it out about three years ago. So naturally, I haven't worn it." Her explanation made the honey-blonde snort, her head shaking. "I know, it's silly. But sometimes she picks out clothing with an ulterior motive, so I don't wear it when she wants me to."

"Jane, you have to let that black dress thing go."

Grabbing her wallet and following Maura out the door, Jane corrected her. "That wasn't the only time, Maura."

The restaurant was nice enough, tucked away into a corner, the Tower seen only in the distance. Maura ordered the duck, while Jane stuck with a meal she knew she would like, beef tenderloin. For a while they talked about Maura's book, and the changes she had made. They then reminisced about their favorite parts of their vacation together, planning to choose another location to visit together in a year. But as dinner came, they had to address their impending separation. "I fear that this vacation has only increased my sadness about you leaving." Maura broke the ice, her face down as she spoke.

Reaching across the table, Jane caressed her hand, the touch foreign to her now with her realized feelings. "Am I still sad? Absolutely. But I don't regret this time I've had to spend with you." Maura's lips pulled up for a split second as she tried to smile through her sadness. "Besides, I'll be back before you know it for Thanksgiving."

Huffing, she pulled her hand away from Jane's, returning to her meal. "I know. And when I have long weekends, I can come down for a visit."

"Exactly!" This made the younger woman smile brighter as she sat up taller in her seat. "Frankie said the drive wasn't too bad."

"Frankie made the drive?"

Nodding, Jane took a bite of her food. "Yeah, he drove my car down there, and Ma drove him back. He and Tommy set up my bed, and left my apartment keys under my floor mats."

"So you're all set up."

"The rest of my stuff will arrive in two days. I'm just waiting for an email from the FBI outlining my first few days." At the mention of the organization, her mind flashed to the man who had offered her the job, the special agent who asked her for pictures of Paris. The special agent she hadn't answered in a month. Even though she was slowly realizing that a relationship between them was not going to work out, she hadn't meant to ghost him. "Shit."

"What's the matter?" Maura looked concerned, her eyes blinking as she looked at her friend.

"Agent Davies. He asked me for pictures of our vacation, and I've ignored him all month long."

"Oh." Maura's reply was curt, shocking Jane with the harshness of it. "You'll see him in a few days. You can catch him up then."

"I know." Taking a sip of her wine, she continued. "I wasn't gonna text him right now. It's our last night in Paris. Tonight everything is about you." Maura seemed to relax at this, loosening her shoulders and speaking in a normal voice.

After dinner they walked along the Seine, taking in the sights and sounds together. They reminisced about cases, funny stories with Jane's family, and their significant others who never seemed to stick. Maura was careful not to bring up Davies, but why, Jane couldn't understand. Maybe she was sensing the doubts Jane was feeling. She hoped Maura wouldn't figure out why she was having doubts. That would be harder to explain.

They found themselves standing on a bridge. A ferry boat was out in the distance. The sky was getting dark. Maura took a moment, closing her eyes and listening to the sounds. Jane took the opportunity to snap a picture. Maura saw the flash, shaking her head. "Jane, let me see it."

"It's gorgeous, Maura." She was gorgeous. She couldn't say that out loud again. But she turned her phone around so Maura could see it, grinning when she nodded her head in approval. "We should get one together."

"Jane, I don't know if I want to take pictures."

"C'mon, Maura." She turned her camera around and stood next to her friend. Demonstrating on her screen, she showed her friend. "See those lights back there? It will make for a nice photo." Her friend nodded, and Jane wrapped her arm around Maura's waist, holding her other arm out to take the photo. Maura's arm wrapped around her back. "One. Two. Three." Jane smiled and took a picture, realizing only after the flash that Maura had been looking not at the camera, but at Jane's face. She turned to her friend, feigning upset with her voice. "Maura! You have to look at the camera. It'll be pretty!"

But Maura was looking at her with soft, wide eyes, her smile broad and unwavering. "Yeah, pretty." It seemed as though Maura was leaning closer, her eyes closing and mouth parting. And before Jane could stop herself, she closed that gap, letting her lips meet Maura's. Her hand fell, placing her phone in her pocket so she could put both her hands on the younger woman's waist, pulling her closer. The small moan Maura let out made Jane weak at the knees, and she opened her mouth for more.

But as she did, Maura pulled away, biting her lips and looking away. "I'm sorry." She covered the lower half of her face with her hand.

Jane wasn't sorry. Everything she had been figuring out was answered once her lips met Maura's. Her past actions, their closeness, the way she was drawn to Maura, it all made sense. And yet, now her friend was standing across from her looking ashamed. In one moment, Jane had figured out what she needed, and lost it all at once. "Oh my God."

"Jane, wait."

Jane began to back away. "Oh my God."

"Jane, please!"

Jane ran. Even as she could hear her friend pleading with her. She ran, letting the hot tears spill from her face. She ran to the place that had been home for the last month. Traces of Maura were everywhere. She couldn't escape. She paced the floor of their room. At some point, she would have to face Maura, have to face the shame and disappointment. Catching sight of her pajamas, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it would work.

Maura had tried to give her space. She returned to the room half an hour after Jane had. But Jane had decided to hide, wrapping herself in blankets and pretending to sleep. "Jane?" Her friend called out, her voice small in the large space. Jane stuck with her charade, not moving, evening her breathing. "I want to talk. Can we talk?" She could feel Maura's presence standing next to her. When she said nothing, Maura cursed. "Shit." She kicked off her heels and crawled on the other side of the bed. "What have I done?" A part of Jane wanted to roll over and hug her, was angry at herself for causing her friend so much pain. But another didn't want to face the shame, the embarrassment she caused her friend. She had just lost so much, she couldn't lose any more. So she stayed wrapped in her cocoon, ignoring the words of her friend, her heart breaking into more tiny pieces.

Maura fell asleep after about an hour, though Jane could tell it was restless. She tossed and turned, and the look on her face was not the serene picture it had been for the past few weeks. Jane on the other hand, did not sleep. She replayed that kiss in her mind over and over, reveling in the moan, the feel of Maura's hand on her hip. Then she replayed the look of shame, the way Maura crumpled in on herself. She watched it again and again. Now Maura knew. Maura knew Jane loved her, and she didn't feel the same. It was too much to bear.

Jane left an hour earlier for her flight, hailing a taxi at the front desk. She scribbled a note to Maura before leaving, dropping it on her pillow. I hope you can forget this someday. She didn't sleep until she was on her plane, the neck pillow squashed up against the window. No one teased her about the print, no one told her she had to try to stay awake. The person next to her did not watch documentaries that made her fall asleep. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. She blew it.

________________________________________________________________

Three days later in her new apartment, her phone rings. Picking it up, she is met with an accusatory voice on the other end. "What happened?" It was Frankie, always concerned. Thankfully, Maura had people in Boston looking out for her.

"Frankie, I fucked up." She sat on her bed, the only piece of furniture she had unpacked.

"Hence why I'm calling you. Janie, Maura won't talk about the trip. She's just really down. She'd not even talking to Ma. What happened?"

Free hand rubbing her eyes, Jane answered. "I kissed her."

There was a long pause, "I don't understand why that would make her upset."

"Frankie, she was ashamed. Maybe of me, maybe not, I don't know. All I know is that I realized I'm in love with her, we kissed, and now she's ashamed."

"Janie. She's not ashamed of you."

Letting out a breath through her nose, she continued. "Well, if she wasn't, she is now."

"You guys need to talk."

"I don't disagree. But I need time."

Jane could hear his car door shut. "Well, don't wait too long."

"I'll try. Don't tell Ma."

Her brother laughed. "I'll try. But you know me, I fall for all her tricks."

"Great." After saying their goodbyes, she hung up. Opening the gallery on her phone, she looked through all the photos she had of Maura. Posing next to a skull, Admiring paintings at the Louvre, posing like statues, smelling trees at Versailles. That last photo, of the two of them together on that bridge would forever be her favorite.

________________________________________________________________

"Janie! I'm lost!" Her Mother had this weird habit of yelling through the phone, so Jane put it on speakerphone and left it on her counter.

"Ma, I sent you the address!"

"I know, but Ron's GPS isn't working and my phone keeps sending me in circles!"

Jane had to laugh. Her Mother had a hard time with technology. "Where is Ron?"

"Back at the hotel. He's researching GPSes."

"Well, send me your location, and I'll come meet you." Her Mother had been good at that. For a while after Maura's kidnapping, she used to do it to give Jane peace of mind. With a ping, Angela sent her location, and was just a couple of blocks away.

Jane pulled into the empty parking lot, and parked right next to Ron's white car. Her Mother got out when Jane did, and despite her protests, wrapped Jane in a huge hug. "I've wanted to do this for two months, missy. Deal with it."

Jane hadn't seen her Mom since leaving for France. After a week of Maura and Jane both being stateside, Ron decided to take Angela on a road trip. They had spent a few days in New York City, a couple of days at the Hamptons, had been to Hershey Pennysylvania, and had updated Jane on their journey along the way. "Well, I'm sorry to hear about the GPS." Jane teased her Mother, putting her hands in her pockets. "You can just follow me home, though."

"Sounds like a plan." At this Jane nodded, reaching for her door. "Oh, Jane! You'll never guess what I saw on the road!"

Stopping, Jane turned her head to face her Mother. "Was it the Mystery Machine?"

Angela laughed. "Not this time! No, we saw a turtle. Ron got out to help it across the road."

"That's nice, Ma." Jane smiled, reaching again for her car door handle. "Let's head to my apartment."

"Or maybe it was a tortoise." Jane stopped again as she spoke, sighing. "I could never tell those apart too good."

"Ma, it's hot. Let's get out of the sun. Then you can text your favorite Doctor and find out for sure."

"Well I'm just saying, I'm glad it wasn't a snapping turtle. Ron needs his fingers, you know." Angela laughed, her eyes following a car pulling in behind them.

Jane was growing tired, and had forgotten how sometimes it could be hard to get Angela back on task. "Ma, just get in the car! You can tell me all about the turtle or tortoise later!"

But as she reached for the door handle, she heard a voice from behind her that stopped her in her tracks. "Angela? Jane? What are you guys doing here?"

#fanfiction #my fic #rizzles #rizzles fic #not a couple #rizzoli and isles

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ghostmartyr · 3 years

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how a life can move from the darkness [9/?]

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

Summary: Two drug addicts (Eren and Historia) meet in group and decide to be roommates to make their living situation slightly less weird. From there we do the slow burn found family dance mixed in with the struggles and agonies of recovery. Heavy on friendship feels, especially EMA. Eventual yumikuri.

One of Eren’s mother’s many complaints about his childhood was how he wouldn’t go to his parents for nightmares. Even when he was small enough that they’d make him wet the bed. He hadn’t wanted them to know he had them, in case they said something about not fighting so much, or not watching movies they told him not to watch, or not reading those books his dad kept in his office. He didn’t want to hear about how he wasn’t grown up enough.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, heart racing from teeth and blood he wasn’t supposed to know about, and his mom and dad were out, he’d find Zeke.

Still awake, waiting on the couch for him with baseball reruns on the TV. Zeke had never said he told him so, or called him too young for anything. He would wrap Eren in a blanket too tight to move in, dump him on the other side of the couch, and tell him to go back to sleep.

Not as quiet or as gentle as hot chocolate with Frieda.

Historia actively avoided private conversations with Frieda.

They didn’t even have a TV.

They did have a couch. When Eren rushed home after work, Historia was taking up all of it, fast asleep, shoes tossed under Benjamin, and a series of very large numbers written all over both her bared arms. She’d slept all the way through dinner.

Eren would have asked Armin or Mikasa about what he was supposed to do, but he’d never listened to anything they tried to say when they thought he needed help. They always found the right things on accident, later.

He’d also scared them earlier when he told them he loved them.

He needed to say it more. He didn’t want it to be some big, heavy thing like everything else they had between them now.

Without them, and without prodding Frieda into a concern Historia didn’t need, all Eren had to go on was the feeling that he was the one staying up with a blanket ready.

Figuratively. He wasn’t at Reiner’s level of dedication, but he woke up in the middle of the night too often to force himself to stay awake when he could sleep. He kept his bedroom door cracked, but didn’t fight drifting off, reading through the articles on snowflake eels Armin had linked him and letting them ease his eyes shut.

He didn’t know how much later it was when the door opened all the way and Historia thumped down on his carpet, rousing him from using his phone as a pillow.

There were a few dizzying seconds of him blinking his eyes and trying to figure out if they were blinking or he was imagining they were. The only thought making it through the fuzz in his head was how the deterioration of personal boundaries after dark had to be genetic, and that went away when he started to wake up properly.

He looked down at the Historia-shaped shadow curled next to his bed and hoped he didn’t fall back asleep before she decided it was time to start sharing. Along with hoping she wasn’t the type of happy couple person who believed in sharing details. He’d spent all of high school overhearing too much of Sasha and Connie gleefully narrating their classmates like they were all in a nature documentary on mating. Once was enough, and Ymir was already Ymir.

The blurs of the dark were almost sharp by the time Historia said anything.

“I tried to kill myself.”

Any illusions of Eren accidentally falling back to sleep jumped out of his skin with his heart rate. “Just now?”

“What?” The Historia shadow turned abruptly to look at his way, blurs of hair growing her for a few blink cycles. “No. No still—only once. That—with the heroin. That time.”

“Right,” Eren said, too disoriented to will the moment of panic to shut up without thinking of orange bottles. At least it was too dark for him to need to look put together. Maybe there was something to having these talks at night. “What about it?”

Historia’s jeans creaked as her shadow shrunk on itself. No other noise came from the circular blob for several minutes.

Zeke had used a TV for this for a lot of reasons, Eren thought, full of 3am clarity.

He was almost back asleep despite himself when Historia spoke up again.

“Ymir lives a mile away.”

She said it so quietly that it sounded like the notes on snowflake eels. Food, habitat, personality. Things you needed to keep in mind if you were going to try raising one. Eren didn’t catch the death lurking in the words until he felt his bed frame shake.

“I almost never saw her again.”

Eren pulled himself out from under his covers and grabbed one of the blankets resting next to Historia’s head. Cotton turning into rocket science in the night, it took him full seconds to get the blanket draped over Historia. Her hands grabbed the edges and tugged it tight.

“You did see her again,” Eren said, “You’re going to see her lots. Probably every day if you ask.” The still shadow blob of his friend didn’t give him any hints of how much that truth helped. He tried a different one in case. “You’re alive.”

He could hear Historia tugging the threads on his blanket. “Am I?”

Eren didn’t give whatever argument she was going to try time to make room. “Yeah.”

She sighed at him, proving his point.

More silence followed, but Eren was awake now, and he could wait it out. It was easier once she stopped trying to take his blanket apart. He didn’t have much personal attachment, but Mikasa had learned to sew by patching up the holes her cats had left in it.

Historia unfurled enough to bump her head against his mattress.

“When I saw her again…” Historia said, “I think that’s what it feels like to be alive. I don’t think what I’ve been doing counts.” Her arms dug in under the blanket. “And now she’s a mile away and it’s too far. I want her here. I want—” her head dropped to her knees.

More quiet.

Ambulance sirens sounded somewhere off in the distance.

“I miss heroin,” she said.

Eren snorted. “Yeah.”

“I think I miss her more.”

She didn’t add to that. She didn’t really need to. Five minutes with both of them screamed it.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Eren ventured. “We’re supposed to care about people more.” That was how most of the people he knew stayed sober. Including the two of them. “She won’t kill you, and she’s not going anywhere this time. Everyone she cares about is already here.”

Historia seemed to struggle saying the next words out loud. “Eren, I need her.”

Eren shrugged. “I need Armin and Mikasa.” Plus more people than he’d ever thought he could care about, her included. Trying not to need them was where everything went wrong. Even before the pills, when he was just an angry brat who didn’t know how lucky he was.

Historia shook her head, blurred hands raking through her hair. “Not—not the way—they’re your friends, Eren. They’re yours, not your—” she cut herself off. A miasma of irritation billowed off her like fog, filling the sudden silence.

“I don’t even know if she loved me back.”

The sheets on Eren’s bed were back to his star ones Armin and Mikasa had doubled up to buy him when the holes in his shark ones ripped their way off his mattress. They’d gone back on a week ago, after over a year of refusing to look at them. His mom had made him take them home with him.

Every piece of him tied back to them in some way, and the only thing about them he could ever hate was how painfully obvious they made it that they loved him.

“She’s not heroin,” Historia said softly. “She’s not. She’s—she’s too many things for that. I can’t—I don’t want to turn her into another fix.”

Eren propped his elbows on his star-covered knees. “You said it wasn’t the same thing,” he said. “Whatever you two had.”

“It wasn’t,” she said flatly. “I was still a person then.”

Not yelling at Historia never took the same effort as not yelling at Mikasa, but if he ever changed his mind and started thinking shaking some sense into her had a chance of working, there were moments where he’d leap at it. “You’re a person now.”

“No, I’m not!”

Her arm collided with the side of his mattress. Anger, something Eren finally understood, was in every hitch of her breath. Her fist stayed pinned to his bed frame like it was held there by magnets.

“I’m not what I was, and I’m not anything else either,” she said, the stilted words scraping like sandpaper. “I can’t just fall back into her life and have everything be okay because she’s everything. I can’t give her this.” Her hand swam its way back to her, digging into her forehead.

Eren wondered if this was where the tears started, and if that would help any of him figure out what his role was supposed to be here besides support. He listened to the angry breathing, waiting.

The sobs didn’t come.

Laughter, fragile and startled, fell out instead.

“I want it.”

Eren threw a dart and hoped it landed on something. “…Ymir?”

“No—I mean, yes, but—” Historia kept laughing, hands fully in her hair. “Better. I want better.”

She said it in the same half-furious, grasping tone Eren had declared right and wrong in on seven different playgrounds. The one that said something good existed in the world, and everything was wrong because the good wasn’t theirs yet. Frustration and impotence waiting for an Armin to shine it up and point it in the right direction.

She said it like someone who wasn’t waiting around to die.

Months of weight lifted off Eren’s chest. His arms sagged on his knees, and for one Armin moment, he understood how easy it really had been for all of them to grab forgiveness instead of punishing him the way he deserved. How thrilled they must have been to have a chance to forgive him at all.

“That’s one way to get out of telling her you like her,” he said.

A corner of blanket smacked him in the face, and he tossed it back at Historia easily. She didn’t wrap it around herself again. Aided by a few more minutes awake, he could see her hand slowly tracing her arm.

“Did she write her number on your track marks?” Eren asked, peering closer.

“…Yes.”

Ymir could stand being less Ymir for five seconds of her life every once in a while. “Romantic.”

Historia’s tone turned soft. Dissolving into the gentleness Mikasa sometimes had for him and Armin. “Yeah.”

Or maybe Ymir being Ymir worked for Historia.

That was horrifying, and Eren’s cheeks hurt thinking about it. He reached out and poked Historia’s head, ignoring her limp attempts to bat him away. “You’re going to have to hurry up on better if you don’t want her to beat you to the punch.”

“I will not,” Historia said irritably. “She’s awful at talking.”

“She never shuts up.”

Historia was smiling, with enough shadows in her face to pretend the annoyance went with it. “That’s how she hides it. She keeps everything important to herself, and no one ever notices because they’re too frustrated or embarrassed to find out how she feels. Ymir’s too shy to wait quietly and risk someone seeing her.” Historia took back her piece of blanket. With a level of fondness Eren wasn’t sure he needed to hear, she said, “It’s unfair.”

When Hannah and Franz had first taught him that some people could speak in hearts, he had never thought his ears could enjoy hearing them out of anyone. He rested his head on his pillow and slid his phone back to its charger on the nightstand. “Sounds like her.”

“She’s an idiot,” Historia said, without a spot of judgment.

Eren pulled his covers up around his shoulders. “Yours, though.”

“Not yet.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it.”

“Sure.”

His mattress creaked. Eren, eyes closed, found the decorative pillow Frieda had insisted he keep on his bed. He waved it out in the air around Historia’s spot on the floor for a second before it left his fingers. He didn’t know what she did with it. The moment after it disappeared, so did he, drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face.

----

Armin would call it a multiple choice question, how mornings with Reiner went. There were the normal mornings where Eren had to keep their pace in check or worry about carrying him home, the becoming normal mornings where the bikes came out, the weird mornings where Reiner talked him into something like trying an unheated pool for laps, and the rare, apocalyptic ones where there was no Reiner.

Today was a no Reiner day.

Ymir was standing outside the house inhaling a thermos. Steam rose from the lid and a patched beanie was covering most of her head. Without bothering to say hello or make eye contact, she spoke up. “Why do you do this to yourself.”

Eren slowed his jog to a stop in front of her on the sidewalk. “I get paid.”

“Not enough.” Ymir downed the rest of her drink and tossed the thermos on top of Bertolt’s neatly trimmed hedges. “I’ve seen what this costs. You need someone else to start managing your finances.”

Before leaving the apartment, Eren had asked if the new state of Historia’s thing with Ymir meant he had to start being nicer. Historia hadn’t bothered looking up from saying good morning to Benjamin to tell him that that was exactly the wrong way to make friends with Ymir.

Making friends with Ymir had never once been something Eren wanted to care about. He still didn’t. He could feel himself caring anyway.

He asked the stupid question to get it out of the way. “We’re waiting for Reiner?”

“Nope,” Ymir said with a pop. “I booted Reiner off the island for the day. Just you and me, alone at last.”

“Stop trying to make this weird.”

“What do you take me for, Eren?” She waggled her eyebrows. “I’m saving that when we’re both all hot and sweaty.”

Eren rolled his eyes and decided to touch his toes until Ymir grew up. It was easier than looking at her. She was back to smiling, and he was embarrassed noticing how different it was from her usual smirk. He’d never thought of Ymir as someone like him and Reiner. She was the babysitter of her group. The Frieda, only without any of the shadows and fear holding her back.

Historia had talked about making that mistake. Thinking Ymir never needed anyone.

Historia would miss that someone had needed her.

Ymir would turn out to be a sap. All those romance novels had to come from somewhere.

The back of Eren’s head received a rough poke.

“Time’s wasting,” Ymir said. “Bert’s making waffles, and if you think I’m missing that to have a touching heart to heart jog, that hair of yours is starting to smother your brain.”

Eren swatted her hand away and didn’t rise to the bait, even if he did stand up. “How fast do you want to go?”

Ymir was bending backwards nonchalantly. She mirrored him and pulled her leg up to her chest, smirking that smirk that was too happy to properly deserve the word. “Tell you what, let’s make it easy on you. Your job is to keep up.”

----

One of Eren’s friends from high school had never really tried being his friend. They smashed into each other and then there was just too much debris left over to keep acting like they weren’t a part of the same circle.

Eren’s lungs were choking in his chest, his heart felt fit to explode, and his legs were burning.

Competitions with Jean usually wound up with punches and threats to finish things up in the parking lot after class. Bumps and bruises and the debate advisor screaming at them to please keep in mind the rules of engagement, and proper debate did not require a change in volume, boys.

Next to him, Ymir was trying and failing to stand up straight, both of them quietly dying in Reiner’s driveway.

No one had told him she was fast. Did she write her books on a treadmill? Their race back to the house had almost ended with a crash finish from both of them.

“So,” Ymir said, still gasping, “I promised you weird.”

“That was enough weird for one day,” Eren said, regretting the full sentence the second he started it. He clutched at his knees and willed his blood to stop beating into his head like a club.

Ymir was leaning against the side of the house heavily enough to leave sweat behind on the paint job. “That? What, you never had a proper workout before?” She reached out and tussled Eren’s hair. Pulling away nearly made him fall over.

Another minute of heavy breathing, and she grabbed at him again.

“This is going to make both of us uncomfortable, so we might as well get it over with now,” she said.

Eren didn’t have the time or energy to dread. He was left with nothing but his own spinning head and Ymir’s lanky, soaked frame dragging him into her arms.

“Uh.”

It was not a comfortable hug. Eren had his fair share to compare it to. He was tired, they were both boiling in the weak morning sun, and his clothes were damp enough without adding another person’s sweat. Ymir was also bony in a way that made her shoulders jab his.

“Thanks,” Ymir said, softly enough that Eren could only hear because of how close they were. “I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.”

Eren awkwardly tried patting at her back. “You’re welcome?” He thought about how much lighter they both made each other and put in another stab. “She—she didn’t think so either.”

He was rewarded with another hair ruffle that caught on a painful tangle. Ymir shoved him gently and he stumbled closer to stable ground. “I know,” she said. “Add it to the list of what that thank you counts for.”

Track marks and shivers panged in Eren’s mind. Ymir’s deliberate handwriting covering up all the memories on Historia’s arms. His heart, slowing down from the sprinting and confusion, wound up for another round.

“She would have made it,” he said. The alternative was as unthinkable as it was unspeakable. “She’s strong.”

Ymir chuckled, and Eren recognized the shimmer in her eyes. “Come on, Eren, you should know this.” She seized him by the shoulders and started walking him up the porch, giving his hair another tug. “Strong people are the ones who dig themselves so deep no one else can get them out.”

Before Eren could puzzle out if that was an actual compliment, she slapped the back of his head and strolled into the house, loudly asking Bertolt where her waffle was.

----

“No roommate today?”

Eren dragged himself away from watching Zeke throw pitches into the backstop. Armin and Mikasa were in the outfield, Armin dazzling with excitement over the gopher that had stuck around after practice ended. Eren was picking up empty bags of sunflower seeds the team before them had left behind.

Stalling.

Yelena, elbow on the roof of the dugout, seemed to take that as an invitation to talk.

“She had an appointment,” Eren said. Trying for supportive and completely opaque.

Their last meeting, Historia had tried talking. That would have been fine and great for her, but what she’d said was, “I got addicted to heroin trying to kill myself, and I need to not feel that way anymore.”

Petra had called her back after and given her a rolodex full of names. She’d asked Historia, in her most concerned tone of voice, to call at least one.

Eren didn’t know how many Historia had called to get an appointment as fast as she did, but the cost of brute forcing therapy for the week was missing out on one of Zeke’s practices, and he was supposed to be the good sponsor and approve of that instead of telling her how badly his experience with therapy went. She’d heard it all before anyway. The only positive thing he used to be able to say about group was that it was an improvement over the damn shrink, so he’d said it. Weekly.

“That’s a shame,” Yelena said. “The quartet look suits you.”

Eren shrugged instead of agreeing. Off in the distance, Mikasa was smiling at Armin like there was no place in the world she’d rather be. Eren wasn’t listed on the team. He would have skipped Zeke’s invitation entirely if it hadn’t meant dodging them, too.

Even if it was weird only having Mikasa and Armin around, and there was everything wrong with thinking that. He didn’t know which of his friends to blame for the voice in his head that said it might be less weird if he went over and admired the gopher in the outfield with them instead of shadowing Zeke. It sounded like all of them.

Several of the steps before twelve also reminded him weird was the wrong word.

Scary came closer, and if he weren’t so tired of being pissed, that would have him right next to Zeke, trying to crack a hole into the wooden parts of the backstop. Maybe that was the right move for taking a step forward with his brother, but it wouldn’t do anything to fix him.

Eren crumpled up the bags in his hands and swung up and out of the dugout, brushing shoulders with Yelena on his way to a trash can.

She followed him. “Is there a story behind why all of you are staying so late?” Yelena asked with an innocence too earnest to feel real. “If it’s team spirit, I’d be happy to join in, but it seems to be a bit more personal.”

“We’re having dinner with my mom later,” Eren chanted. He left out who ‘we’ included. He was working on it.

“That’s nice to hear,” Yelena said. “Zeke’s always had nice things to say about her. Is Historia meeting up with you all there?”

Eren stopped. He turned around to meet Yelena’s benign smile. “Zeke talks about my mom?”

“Sure,” she said. “Not as much as he talks about his beloved little brother, but she comes up. Don’t worry,” she added, like the look on Eren’s face came anywhere close to worry, “it’s nothing but good things.”

Eren balled the sunflower seed bags up and slammed them into the trash. “Excuse me,” he said—because they were talking about his mother and his mother had tried to teach him manners long after the first argument about how rude people didn’t deserve them—leaving Yelena behind for the pitcher’s mound.

Zeke didn’t change his rhythm on Eren’s way over, but he could see Armin and Mikasa both tense up out of the corner of his eye. The gopher popped back underground.

“Eren,” Zeke said, when Eren was ten feet away, “do you need something?”

It was the fourth step. Being completely, ruthlessly honest about everything wrong with you as a person so maybe something had a shot in hell at fixing it all. Eren’s hands unclenched. The open air against his palms made them feel empty. His head felt almost as empty, since the million conversations he and Zeke just didn’t have stayed crammed down his throat.

Still. “Mom wanted you to come over for dinner,” he said.

Zeke’s fastball smacked against the crude smiley face someone had doodled on the backstop. One of its eyes had a crack through it. “How kind of her. Will you be leaving with your friends, or should we all go over together?”

“Whatever works for you,” Eren said. Zeke kept throwing. There was an entire basket left by his feet. Eren wanted to kick it over.

“I’ll be done here soon.”

“We can wait on you.”

THWAK

“Wonderful.”

If the gopher hadn’t already gone down its hole, Eren stomping over to Mikasa and Armin would have gotten rid of it fast. For their sake, he ignored the look they shared while he was still out of earshot. And Armin’s deep breath before his smile.

Mikasa favored more direct approaches. “Will Zeke be joining us?”

“Yeah.”

A flurry of cloud drifted by the setting sun, and the next look Armin tried to share with Mikasa didn’t happen. She kept her eyes on Eren. Watching him, like she always did, but the reflection of irritation and futility felt more like a conversation than what he’d just managed with Zeke.

Eren was too many steps away from her to walk up and hug her without it being weird. Asking for a hug would also be weird. She’d probably worry instead of finding it nice.

Armin tried to inject some positivity. “How about Historia? Is she still busy?”

Pulling away from Mikasa’s magnetic presence, Eren shrugged. “Probably,” he said. He’d texted during batting practice and asked, but he hadn’t gotten anything back. Maybe because she didn’t need to be told not to answer her phone during an appointment. Maybe because she could sense Eren trying to probe her mood and she was already stuck paying someone to do that and once was enough for a day.

The Petra in his head could take the blame for some of that. He’d never liked being around people after shrink sessions. He’d hated being alone after them.

Eren’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he snapped it out.

Sorry, we just ordered.

Eren blinked.

He hadn’t had a fun day. The shadow of his mom, and being alone with Armin and Mikasa, and all of the things wrong with feeling wrong about that, had put him in a bad mood and Zeke had made it worse without lifting a finger.

A glimmer of something going right peered out of his screen.

[…] […] Ymir says hi.

“She’s definitely busy,” Eren said.

“Oh.” Armin sounded disappointed. “That’s…”

Eren slung an arm across Armin’s back. “It’s good,” he said, meeting Mikasa’s eyes again. Winning back that soft smile she’d had when it was just her and Armin and the gopher. “Really good.”

----

Most of Eren’s formative memories included Armin. That was what happened when you met someone that cool when you were a kid. Every memory with them mattered, because they mattered. He had life-changing moments around tying shoes because Armin was there with him.

Armin had asked, when Zeke was dangling his arms over the fence that separated the playground from the pickup zone, waiting for the teacher to decide that their grandparents really were Eren’s too, what it was like having a big brother.

“He’s like an extra stair,” Eren had answered, very wisely. “He reaches all the high stuff and helps me up so I can, too.”

“I wonder how tall we’ll be when we grow up?” Armin had asked, eyes full of sparkles and future.

Eren had known the answer to that. After declaring to his dad that he’d be as tall as a mountain when he was his age, instead of choosing to stop like he had, his dad had picked him up, placed him atop his shoulders, and said a lot of what his mom called doctor words. It all meant that if he ate right and listened to his parents, he’d probably be as tall as they were. Jeans mattered. That was why Eren was sure to never wear them.

But before all those words, his dad had smiled up at Eren, and said the important ones: “We can both be taller whenever we want. All I need is you. And all you need,” he flicked Eren on the nose, “is me.”

In the playground with Armin, Eren had declared, “As tall as we can make ourselves!” and scooped Armin on top of his head so they could be kings of the playground.

He hadn’t been able to lift Armin.

Armin’s shoe kicked him in the lip.

Their teacher had called Eren over then, and his grandparents had seen the blood dripping down his shirt and panicked. Zeke had politely asked the teacher for a tissue and picked Eren up.

Eren had pointed at Zeke and shouted back to Armin, spitting blood down on the sidewalk. “He’s very tall!”

Petra had told him once, and the group a few times, that sometimes it helped to have a solid picture of what you were aiming for. You didn’t have to fly blind into your relationships and circumstances. You could think of what you wanted and ask for it, or make it happen.

When Eren thought of what he wanted out of his brother, all that came to mind was Armin. Armin’s voice asking, ‘what’s it like?’ and none of the answers working anymore. He didn’t know what to do with a Zeke. He had Petra’s outline and a huge hole where whatever he and Zeke could be wasn’t.

From that standpoint, getting Zeke to come along to dinner wasn’t a bad achievement. His mom had mentioned it, Eren had asked, and now Zeke was sitting in the dining room, politely complimenting the stew while Mikasa staidly avoided eye contact and Armin reached over every few mouthfuls to loosen Eren’s grip on his fork.

For the third week in a row.

Eren was starting to think Historia was scheduling her appointments the way she was on purpose, just to get out of adding one more pensive face to the table.

“This is delicious, Carla,” Zeke said, folding his napkin and gently collecting his silverware on his plate. “Thank you again for the splendid meal.”

Eren’s mom, who had a bounce in her step and a light in her eyes whenever Eren showed up with the dinner crew in tow, spared an amused look for her son before smiling at her stepson. “You say that every time, Zeke.”

Zeke’s glasses flashed in the light, giving his smile an emptiness that matched the tiny hole in Eren’s gut week after week. “And every time it is warranted.”

The scraping noise irritating Eren’s ears was coming from his plate, and it stopped the moment after Armin’s hand came back to his and released his fork to its original spot on the tablecloth with a blunted clatter.

His mom shot him another look, but kept speaking to Zeke. “You’ll have to keep coming by, then. It’s so nice to have my work appreciated for once.”

Mikasa stiffened in her chair in time with Eren, and both of them objected together, even if Eren’s voice thundered over Mikasa’s. “We appreciate you.”

“It’s also lovely to see how contagious that attitude is,” she continued, barely pausing at all to squeeze Mikasa’s arm. “Thank you, Zeke. I’ve seen more of your brother in these past few weeks than I did when he moved back in.”

Zeke and Eren’s mother were the only people around the table who didn’t flinch. Sitting next to Armin felt more like sitting next to a bonfire with snapping teeth, and Eren didn’t know if he wanted to hug him or punch himself.

That was the main problem with these dinners. He couldn’t do either.

Mikasa would say the main problem was Zeke.

Finding that soothing wasn’t the way out of all this. Probably. Even if some part of his soul uncurled, imagining what it would be like for Mikasa to rage as hard as he did and choose to share it with him.

Zeke, as diplomatic as Armin was when he was trying to get whoever was between him and Eren to kindly not pay attention to how one Mikasa was all that was keeping a very bloody brawl from continuing—smiled, glasses catching the light again. “Eren’s been working hard on spending time with all his family lately,” he said. “His effort isn’t something I can claim credit for.”

Eren’s fork was grinding into the tablecloth this time, and Armin’s hand was as warm as the understanding in his eyes that Eren still hated wanting as much as he did. Eren had to be the one working hard to spend time with Zeke, because Zeke got a text about how his day was going and assumed Eren was bad step away from rehab again. All Zeke could claim credit for was—

Being there. Whenever Eren asked.

Always.

“Would you like some help clearing the table, Carla?”

Eren wanted to punch him.

“Zeke, please, you’re a guest,” his mom said, while he and Mikasa jumped to their feet and almost broke Armin’s plate when they both grabbed for it at the same time. His knife took a dive for the floor, but Eren caught it.

When he straightened, shuffling his and Armin’s plate together and waging a silent staring contest with Mikasa to see if she’d hand him hers, Zeke took up his own and Eren’s mom’s, smiling distantly. “It’s my pleasure,” he said.

Mikasa handed Eren her plate sullenly before Zeke could make it out of the room first. Eren muttered his thanks and marched into the kitchen with his brother. Who didn’t ask for Eren’s pile. They walked in together. They reached the sink. They dropped off the plates and silverware. All without needing conversation. Because Eren’s grandparents and Eren’s mom hadn’t raised animals, and they could figure out putting plates away without talking.

Wordless communication was a sign of closeness.

They walked back to the dining room.

Eren plopped in his seat, eyebrows burning from the effort of holding back his mood.

His mom was watching him, smiling wordlessly.

He tried to iron out his scowl. For her.

She tapped her forehead, only lined with age, and shook her head at him as Zeke eased back into his seat next to her. Next to Eren, Armin was there, patient and resigned to the inevitable explosion that Eren was not going to let happen.

Mikasa caught his glaring eyes and understood.

She’d been taller than him most of their lives, even if she wasn’t anymore.

Eren took a wrench to the screws in his scowl and breathed. No cheap shortcuts. No orange bottles or baggies he should have thrown away. A few weeks of bad dinners that made his mom smile wasn’t asking much.

Zeke sat calmly in his chair.

Eren needed a tennis ball.

----

Waking up earlier than anyone in the apartment wasn’t something Eren thought of as mattering. Historia stayed up too late and he sometimes wondered if he was supposed to help her with that, and he thought Benjamin judged him for being up first and not bringing him over any food, but he never thought about it as a real part of his life.

Waking up because something clattered in the kitchen was alarming and weird.

More weird because the sun was already out, so it couldn’t be Frieda.

Eren woke up with his eyes open and face smushed into the stars on his pillow, not having any idea where he was. He didn’t move. He wasn’t sure his eyes were following instructions well enough to blink. His pillow was soft. The light lining his bed from the crack in the curtains wasn’t. He had a hand dangling off his bed.

Another clang hit from outside his drowsy haze.

Pots and pans.

And voices.

Eren fumbled for his phone, digging it out from under his hip and swiping away the incomplete text he’d fallen asleep trying to send Armin. The clock blared at him. He’d slept in. It was his day off, he’d slept in, he’d failed at roping Armin into a movie, and there were people banging around the kitchen with more noise than anyone who had a key created.

They didn’t know anyone who came over without a written invitation.

Eren took a stumbling lurch out of his bed and room, the full morning light sparkling into the apartment and jabbing him directly in the eyes to go with the even louder clattering his door had protected him from.

A sing-song greeting slipped through the rest of the cacophony.

“Good morning, sleepy head.”

They knew one person who came over without a written invitation.

Eren stood in the threshold of the hallway. Ymir sat on the counter, sitting next to a waffle iron and licking a beater. The rest of the entire kitchen was strewn around her, in disarray except for three empty plates. Shopping bags cluttered the usually spotless floor. Historia, nowhere closer to helpful than he was, had her elbow perched on one of the remaining edges of the counter. She was watching Ymir with bland confusion and a spark of something Eren couldn’t name. The batter from the beater in her hand dripped down her wrist.

Across from them both, the sink was full of more dishes than he’d thought they’d owned. A mixing bowl with a cereal bowl lumped in it was sliding slowly against the side, jangling several forks.

More awake every bizarre second, Eren stared blankly at Ymir. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s the first thing she said, too,” Ymir said. She twirled her beater in Historia’s general direction. “You two could use a manners class.”

Without really looking away from Ymir, who as far as Eren could see was doing nothing outside of lapping up batter on top of their counter, Historia drifted out of whatever daze she seemed to be in. “She making us breakfast,” she told Eren.

Her elbow nudged the nearest plate. Two black slats had been thrown on top of it. They’d probably looked closer to something edible before Ymir ever touched them.

“She burned the toast.”

Ymir scoffed. “Your toaster has more settings than the sun,” she said, brandishing her beater at it. She turned back to Historia, comment at the ready—and Historia was smiling at her. Ymir stopped. Like she was back to falling off a wall, only Eren didn’t have to save her. The conversation paused, Ymir’s tongue stuck to the beater before she swallowed around it and continued with a soft rasp. “Did you just go out and buy the first, most expensive one you saw?”

“…Yes.”

Ymir was trying, badly, to hide that soft, not-Ymir smile that fit her face too well. Eren started considering grabbing a bowl of cereal and heading back to his room. A beep disrupted the thought. Ymir hopped to the floor and dropped her beater to a battered plate, popping open the waffle iron.

“A toaster that could fit a whole gingerbread house, and no TV,” she drawled, delivering a perfectly cooked waffle to one of the plates and slathering more batter onto the iron. “You guys really have your priorities set around here.”

“The TV light’s bad for Benjamin,” Historia said before Eren could. Ymir rolled her eyes and shoved the waffled plate into Historia’s hands on her way to pull the syrup off the stove.

There was syrup on the stove.

Eren slowly reached for a stool and eased onto it. Breakfast and Ymir. Bertolt and Reiner were missing, but they were missing when he came home from family dinners to Historia and Ymir fast asleep on the couch. No one expected him to talk then.

No one expected him to talk now. The third plate next to the waffle iron was the only real sign that anyone had thought he’d be in the room with the two of them. Eren’s elbows joined the small space Historia had carved out for hers. He didn’t join her in staring at Ymir. Historia covered that enough for everyone he knew and had never met.

“What are you doing to it?”

“Buttering it?”

“You aren’t going to be able to taste anything but butter. I could have grabbed a stick and shoved it in your mouth instead of going to all this trouble.”

“Ymir, that’s too much syrup.”

“It’s the right amount of syrup for—are you putting more butter on it?”

Historia jabbed the part of her waffle that was still visibly waffle with her fork, slicing the piece off and defiantly popping it into her mouth. Ymir tossed her potholder over the remains of the stick of butter. Most of it untouched. She still slumped back on the counter with the look of someone reading off a death row inmate’s crimes. Bertolt left that out when he made waffles.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Ymir said. Pretending not to be staring at her. She was like one of Mikasa’s cats, only noisier. “What about you, Eren, do you start every day trying to poison yourself?”

As removed from having an opinion on the state of the waffle Historia was chewing as he’d been for the entire conversation, Eren shrugged. “I think Historia knows how to feed herself,” he said.

“You would, wouldn’t you, but then you get to displays like this, and—”

Historia, with a speed people who made it their business to be around Ymir picked up one way or another, popped her fork into Ymir’s mouth, the skewered piece of waffle making immediate contact with her tongue. Syrup stuck to her lower lip, and Ymir’s eyes fluttered shut, taking the offered bite with no resistance. The glowering pride on her face lasted until Historia flicked away the syrup with her finger, melting her faster than the butter.

Eren watched his empty plate instead of looking back at Benjamin. Armin said people anthropomorphized their pets too much. A fish could not relate to this.

With a groan that didn’t read as exasperated as any of them were going to pretend, the fork was released to its owner. “Compliments to the chef,” Ymir said, scrubbing her battered hand over her mouth.

“The chef burned toast,” Historia said. She found the remaining free inches of counter space and sat down next to Ymir.

“Toast isn’t cooking,” Ymir said, grabbing up another fork and bypassing Historia’s halfhearted deflections to rip off more of the buttered waffle. “It’s a bargain with an electrical socket, and yours didn’t pay up.”

Reiner wasn’t here to mouth ‘ignore her’ over Bertolt’s shoulder, so Eren spoke up. “I thought you were blaming the toaster.”

“I can blame you too if you’re feeling left out.”

“I wasn’t awake.”

“Yeah, your commitment to helping has never been clearer.” Ymir stole more waffle. Shared. Historia, with a small shake of her head when Eren caught her eye, had twirled the plate around so they were eating from opposite sides.

The iron beeped, and Eren slid his waffle—which was staying his—onto his plate and dealt with his own syrup. Ymir had used Bertolt’s recipe. It tasted like his tongue was going to melt into sugar and made him want five more. Reiner passed out after three. Splitting one was probably for the best for someone Historia’s size.

He didn’t think being helpful was what Ymir was going for. She was squishing Historia most of the way off the counter and then catching her with a snipe about being more careful in the kitchen.

He still had his phone. The only thing he knew about his day off besides Ymir turning it into hers was that it was sunny out.

No one was paying attention to him anyway, so having his phone out and texting someone at what counted for the breakfast table wasn’t bad manners. He found Mikasa’s contact listing and hit send.

want to climb today?

The relief when she texted back in under a minute wasn’t anything to be proud over. Or anything he deserved, but he was supposed to be practicing remembering that without wanting to rip his throat out. Relief fit.

Of course. Where?

you pick. anywhere’s good

“And where,” Ymir said when he got up with his plate, like any of her attention was on him, “do you think you’re going?”

“Grabbing my stuff to go rock climbing with Mikasa.”

“The cat girl?”

Eren looked at Historia, who remembered Colt had a cockatiel better than that he had a brother. “Sure,” he said.

“Because spending time with her is so much better than time with us,” Ymir said, picking off a piece of Historia’s second waffle and licking away a dribble of syrup. Her elbow caught one of the bowls that had gone into the cooking, and a cascade of clatters dipped further into the sink. “Didn’t think you were the type to ditch your friends for a girl, Eren.”

Historia had worked her way into being fused to Ymir’s hip. Their feet periodically bumped together and bounced apart too carefully to be an accident. Eren said, because Ymir being Historia’s whatever only meant he had to put up with some of her, “I don’t see you cooking breakfast for Reiner.”

Ymir smirked at him. “That’s what Bertolt’s for.”

Eren rolled his eyes. “I’m going climbing.”

The chorused, “Have fun,” when he stepped out of the apartment on his day off, bag stuffed with extra water Mikasa didn’t need because she knew how to function, only felt sincere from one of them. That was fine. He had somewhere to go when they didn’t ask him to stay.

[next]

#drug au #fic #mine #long post

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msilwrites · 4 years

Text

The Beginning of a Marriage

A/N: SEXUAL TENSIOOONNNSSS... LOL!

JUST A SHORT THOUGHT:

WARNING! SPOILERS from the book and movie 365 Days: I just finished reading a detailed review of the book. The difference between the Massimo in the book vs Massimo in the movie was so great, I felt so sad reading the detailed review about the book and the characters. (DETAILED REVIEW Read here....). Nonetheless, this story was inspired quite a bit by the Massimo from the movie. The review of the book and the difference it has with the movie not only made me want to write about strong female leads, but also, develop some sort of bond between my two characters as; (another spoiler from the book review; “Laura and Massimo as a couple - Those two didn't really share any interests, they didn't talk a lot about anything aside from how perversed they are & their sexual fantasies. Their whole relationship was built on violence, blackmail, anger and fighting.”)

And I believe the reviewer did make a point!

This story is the continuation of ‘The Wedding’

Genre: Action/ Drama / Comedy

Sandro Balestreri - Michele Morrone

Tilly McLeod - is an original female character

Will McLeod - Liam Neeson

Henry McLeod - Henry Cavill

The Beginning of a Marriage

The moment they reached the Balistreri’s ancestral home where the wedding reception will be held. Tilly immediately got out of the car, and ran all the way to the front door of the villa.

“What’s the hurry bella?!” Sandro teased.

He expected Tilly to trip and fall and embarrass herself, with the way she was going, but to his surprise, she was very graceful, despite the high heels and the long gown. The long part of the back hem of her dress, flew with the wind, which made him stare longer than he intended, she looked so ethereal, reminding him of the goddess of the wind.

“Quickly, Sandro! they’ll be here in an hour or two?” Tilly says whilst running up the on the steps of the entrance, completely oblivious to the way her husband stared at her.

He sighed, and turned off the car’s ignition, and pulled out the keys. By the time he entered the villa, he can hear the clucking sound of Tilly’s heels from upstairs like a staccato on a piano.

He chuckled as he climbed the staircase and was a little surprised that the sound of the tick-tocking of her shoes suddenly stopped. When he reached the second floor, he saw her door, slightly ajar, enough for him to peek through. Out of sheer curiosity, Sandro took a peek at the small slit of the door only to find his wife busy talking on her phone,dressed in nothing but a nude strapless bridal shapewear, whilst her wedding gown, lay neatly on the side sofa. Though it didn’t show the parts that he wanted to see, it accentuated her hourglass body. Who would’ve thought his wife hid such a voluptuous figure.

“Damn...” he whispered to himself, a naughty smile formed on his lips. “Who would’ve thought...”

“You’ll be late for an hour later than the designated time? Oh! of course, there’s no problem with that, we have more time to prepare for my side then. Take your time, we do not mind...” she says to the person on the other side of the line. He guessed it must be the magazine interview later on. After putting down the call, she sighs, and lays her head on top of the dressing table, completely exhausted.

With another exhausted sigh, Tilly gets up from her seat and changes into different dress, swiftly slipping into it. It had the same elegant silhouette as her wedding dress, but this time, it was black and a bit more minimalistic, with longer bell sleeves complementing the classic silhouette in the most delightful way. She paired with another set of emerald necklace, but took a little longer choosing the earrings, so she spread what she had brought on to the table to compare. Unable to choose, she leaves the previous task to re-touch her makeup.

Sandro didn’t notice that he had been watching a little longer until she lifted her head, to check the time. Though, there was nothing much to see now that she’s dressed, he felt like a voyeur. He didn’t understand it himself as to why he seemed to be enjoying watching Tilly dress up, there was something so sultry about it. In fact, he was getting a little hard down there.This was the first time he considered something so sexy without a woman being naked.

Suddenly, Sandro accidentally pushes the door open, causing Tilly to almost jump out of her seat.

“Who’s there!!??” she shouts.

However, Sandro quickly slips away, and hides at one side.

Tilly pops her head outside of her door, and looked from right to left, trying to see if there was anybody in the hallway. Much to her relief, there appeared to be no one. She closes the door shut, and Sandro hears the clicking sound of the doorknob, indicating that she had locked it this time.

Sandro sighs in frustration, and tried to find a way to ‘cool’ himself and his ‘friend’ down there. His eyes lands on the large window not far from where he stood, and the first thing he saw was the pool.

“Good Idea...” he thought to himself. It was indeed the perfect time to go for a relaxing swim.

**********

“Sandro!” Tilly’s deep, mezzo-soprano voice echoed throughout the hallway, reaching all the way to the backyard where the pool was. One of the first things he had noticed about Tilly in the beginning was her voice. Despite the sunny disposition and the small height, he didn’t expect her to have a such deep soothing voice that reminded him of those narrators in documentaries. When happy, it will be a little tone higher. When annoyed, he could hear her voice strain, turning a little raspy, as if she was containing something within herself. It made him little curious how would she sound like if angry.

Sandro swim’s to the side of the pool and sits down, he could already hear the tick-tocking of her heels approaching.

“Yes, bella?” he greets turning his head to her direction. There she was looking so regal in her black off-shoulder gown, walking towards him.

For a moment, she stops to take a good look at him. He was wearing nothing but those swimming shorts. She couldn’t help but agree that Sandro was no doubt a very handsome man, with a well-toned muscular body.

“See something you like, bella?” he teased, seeing the expression of admiration in her face.

Tilly smiles, clears her throat, and crosses her arms. “In fact yes... you’re a really handsome man, Sandro!” she says shamelessly, catching him off-guard. Often, a woman would either ‘neg’ him, tease him, call him arrogant, outright deny it, play coy, or play games when in such situations. But it completely surprised him that Tilly owned up to it.

“Wow... Thank you...” he chuckled, not really knowing how to respond to her honesty.

Tilly nonchalantly sits at the lounge chair behind him and asks. “What made you want to swim at this time?”

“I don’t know?” he said, as he looked up at sky. “ I just found it a little too warm for my liking, I guess...” he says, when she was the very reason.

“I see, well, I’ve come to tell you that I have your new suit ready. I placed it on top of your bed, just wear it when the people from the magazine arrives.” she instructs, before walking off.

“Where are you going?” he asked, watching her walk back to the door.

“I’m gonna take a nap, I’d appreciate it if you’d wake me half-an-hour later!” she says, before closing the door behind her.

**********

Sandro smiled, trying to contain his laughter, as he approached a sleeping Tilly, laying in the couch. He didn’t understand the weird, hammerhead shark looking ‘headdress’ she was wearing. He did see it in a magazine before and thought it was ridiculous.

“Well, an odd wife indeed...” he tells himself. “So she does have her inelegant moments...” he adds, realizing that he always saw her composed and dignified.

“Wake up, bella... they’re here...” he said, slightly shaking her. To his surprise, Tilly gets up, in a bit of a panic.

“I can’t see! what’s happening!!??” she said, her hands flailing in slight panic.

Sandro bit his lips to stop himself from laughing and pulled the unsightly thing off her head.

“Oh!” she lets out, laughs a bit, which caught him off-guard, he surely did not expect Tilly to laugh at herself. “I forgot I was wearing that...” she said, a little embarrassed.

“What the hell is this?” he says, examining the weird looking object.

“An ostrich-pillow... I’d get you one if you want?” she offered.

“No, Thank you...” he said, placing it on the side. The thing looked far from an ostrich.

**********

“Hi! how are you doing?!” Tilly greets the interviewer cordially, giving her a hug and the customary kiss on each cheek.

“I am fine, oh by the way, you look stunning!” the journalist compliments and looks at Tilly from head to toe with admiration. “Congratulations and Best Wishes to both you and your husband!” she adds.

“Thank You!” was her response.

Sandro watched from the side as Tilly greets the staff from the magazine one by one. It wasn’t so long ago that she looked unpoised, wearing the hammerhead pillow of hers. Now she was back to graceful and sophisticated Tilly.

“Sandro?” Tilly called and then turned back to the journalist. “ Come and meet my husband, Sandro...” she says. “Sandro this is my friend and reporter Lauren Wescott, Lauren, this is my husband, Alessandro Balestreri...”

“Nice to meet you Mr Balestreri, congratulations on your wedding, and winning the Forbes Travel Guide and Haute Grandeur awards.” Lauren mentions, referring to Sandro’s actual job.

Though Sandro’s family is still a mafia, they had long since been trying legalize, and have been continuing to do so. In the surface, everyone knew Sandro as the outstanding and award winning restaurateur and hotelier, and the COO (Chief Operations Officer) of the Balestreri Group. Only those who are loyal to the oath of Omerta knows what Sandro is and his family, including Tilly’s family. Though Sandro and Tilly’s family have long been trying to legalize their businesses, it never meant that they still don’t get their hands dirty. Especially when things take a different turn. Sometimes, things are just done the hard way.

“I heard that you and your hotels were nominated for the Stelliers awards? I wish you luck...” Lauren adds, talking about another hotel awards.

“Ah, yes, Thank You... I do hope to win something this year...” he adds. “Please take a seat...” he offers as he sat beside Tilly. “Shall we begin?”

“Of course!” she says enthusiastically. Lauren takes out a pen notepad, ready to jot down notes. “So how did you two meet?”

“Oh, through my parents, and then his aunt...” was Tilly’s simple answer. “His aunt was trying to matchmake me with him, and so here we are...” she added.

“Matchmaking?! that’s a good way to meet each other, specially now that it’s full of social dating apps...” Lauren comments and sighs.

“The first time you met, what were the things that caught your attention about your significant other?” Lauren reads from her notes.

“ I always saw Sandro as a man with quiet confidence about him. I would say the most memorable part of the first meeting would be his eyes. When I turned to look at him, he was looking at me with the citrine eyes of his... and I was not able to speak, so I drank tea to cover it up.” Tilly turns to face Sandro who had one brow arched, and a mischievous smile plastered on his lips. She knew that what she said will be used against her anytime soon.

Sandro’s turn came, and looked at Tilly. “ The first thing I noticed and captured my attention was her voice. Well, she might not know this, but the first time I met her was during the Wimbledon...”

“Oh!” Tilly looks at him surprised, and tries to see if he was making this up, or she had really seen him in person before?

“Really? we would love to hear that story?!” Lauren says, interested at the story that Sandro was about to tell.

“ It was during the men’s doubles a few years back. There was this lady and her brother, who was seated beside me and It turns out to be her.” he begins, Lauren was genuinely interested, whilst Tilly felt nervous, and tried to recall if she had committed any blunder that day.

“It was when Marach was hit in the worst possible spot, and then I overhear this woman beside me telling her brother, ‘ Headlines tomorrow, ‘Marach gets a whack!’ Well, he doesn’t have to worry about contraception now!’ ” Sandro says, saying it in typical Tilly fashion, spot on with her scottish accent.

Lauren throws her head back laughing, remembering that particular incident during one of the Wimbledon’s match. “ Yes! that is so Tilly!” confirming Sandro’s story on how Tilly usually is.

Tilly laughed along too, in relief. But she did remember the guy beside her laughing at her dry comment, dress in a light blue summer suit, wearing shades. But then that was all to it. She just didn’t expect that her future husband had been sitting right next to her then.

By the way, if you want to read the previous story, here it is, ‘The Wedding’

The Next Part of this story is here; ‘Marriage’

A/N: I will be editing this because I probably have made a number of grammatical errors. I hope you enjoyed the story. FYI. It will be a series of one shots.

#Mafia #Omerta #IronLady #Iron Lady #Independent Woman #Michele Morrone #Michele Morrone Face Claim #Michele Morrone Fan Fiction #Michele Morrone FanFiction #Michele Morrone X OFC #Michelle Morrone x OC #Michele Morrone x Original Female Character #Original Story #Massimo Torricelli #Massimo Torricelli Face Claim #Massimo Toricelli Inspired #Drama #Action #Comedy

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onisiondrama · 3 years

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Onision: IRL EP: 2 - Onision’s Response videos summary Part 2

“Onision Debunks Adrienne Mention in Discovery+ Documentary Using Her Apology Letter & Last Contact” (3 of 8)

Starts with a clip from the documentary. Shiloh says she found out James was dating a girl. They show a clip from the video “I Found Her” where James announces to his audience he is dating Adrienne. Text on screen says “Adrienne has lived in fear of Greg ever since she had a brief relationship with him when she was 26.” James says that’s not true. He shows the email she sent him in 2012 after he and Shiloh broke up for the last time. He points out she says she owes him an apology, she compares her exes who cheated to Shiloh, she sympathizes with him and says his feelings are valid, she admits he broke up with her, he points out she apologized multiple times in the email, she says they wronged each other equally in the relationship, she blames her treatment of him on being broken, she says she had no malicious intent, she wishes him well.

I knew this one was coming. He’s been using this email against Adrienne for years. I’ll reply a little further down.

He also shows an email from Shiloh sent months after they broke up (July 2012) saying she is really proud of him and his video quality. He says they haven't interacted since.

Again, there were years where Shiloh was trying to be civil toward James. She wouldn’t speak negatively about him online. He was the aggressor online and would being her up constantly in videos to bash her.

He reads his reply to Adrienne, saying he could have acted more maturely. She replies and says she’s moving to Seattle. James asks if she was in fear of him, why was she telling him she was moving to Seattle? He points out she said he was a good person in her reply. He says that was the last time they had a conversation, so she would have not have any more interactions to change her opinion of him. She gives him her phone number and offers her friendship in the email. He says Discovery + is once again publishing a lie.

Ok so, James and Adrienne only dated for three weeks, but he relentlessly attacked her online for months after it ended. On social media, in videos. After their short email exchange, James uploads a video titled “Onision- TOTAL VICTORY” where he makes similar points to above and concludes he was the good one in the relationship. Adrienne replied to this video on social media. This is the part James always leaves out. She says she sent that email in an attempt to get him to stop talking about her online and she regretted sending the email because of the way he distorts it. She also points out he was the one who begged her back after they broke up, so she was the one who rejected him. She went over almost all of his points, so you can read her full reply here.

I believe that was the last thing Adrienne ever said online about James. I believe her claim that she has been living in fear of him. He attacked her viciously online.

He asks if they are trying to frame him as someone who goes after people who are young, why do they include someone who was 26? He says their story doesn’t add up.

Why does James call his father a pedophile if he is married to a full grown women? That logic is so dumb.

Besides, the relationships he started with women in their 20′s is nothing to brag about. The longest one was Adrienne and that only lasted 3 weeks with break-ups in-between. The other was one week and the last was like a day or two. They were all utter and complete trainwrecks.

“Ex Admits She Was Always An Anti-O & Shiloh Gets Caught Lying on Onision Documentary” (4 of 8)

A narrator reads a portion of Adrienne’s leaked email about her relationship with James. Adrienne says she watched James’ relationship drama with Shiloh online and realized she “had a crush on this person who I absolutely loved to hate.” James says she admitted to hating him. He says it’s psychotic to date someone you hate.

Ahhhh. For years James would say Adrienne admitted on his forums that she was a hater / anti-o before they dated. I had no idea what he was talking about and he never showed proof. This must have been where that came from. It never clicked for me because whenever I read her email, I always read it as she like to hate watch Shiloh and James. Not that she was like enraged by him or was actively a “hater.”

I could totally see how someone in that time period could have started off as a hate watcher but then sympathize with him and develop a crush on him. At that point, the only public relationships he had were with Skye and Shiloh. Skye had not come out and said anything negative about him and Shiloh had gone back to Canada after her mental breakdown. We didn’t even know for sure if James divorced Skye for Shiloh at this point because we didn’t have solid dates for anything yet.

It was apparent there was something off about James, but there was not a lot of evidence that he was abusive at this point. Most people assumed the memory loss video and the mental breakdown video were faked by Shiloh and James for views. If they were real, it seemed as if Shiloh was severely mentally ill and they were caught up in an incredibly toxic relationship. At that time, James used to upload a lot of extremely manipulative sad and crying videos. He came off as someone who yes- overshared, had a big ego, and was unhealthy in relationships, but at the core he came off as a hopeless romantic. I think this is also what attracted Kai to James during this time as well.

The narrator continues reading Adrienne’s email. Adrienne says James made asinine statements like if you really loved someone, you would give up everything to be with them. James asks how is that as asinine statement? He says she’s making fun of him for being a loving person. Adrienne says she put down her bag and he instantaneously started making out with her. She says he did not rape her. James says it’s nice she said there was no crime.

Chris Hansen says Adrienne decided James was too crazy and maniacal to deal with. James says he’s the one who broke up with her. He says he’s confused and they should get their facts straight.

James broke up with Adrienne, but then he begged her back. She’s the one that rejected him. Adrienne even had the voicemails to prove it.

Shiloh says she slipped back into a relationship. James says she didn’t mention she faked a pregnancy to come back. Shiloh says she went back because she felt like she had some issues to work out and she needed to become a better person. James puts this on screen:

Shiloh says she felt very jealous of the other girl he was with. James laughs and asks if they are talking these people seriously? He sarcastically says, he’s so abusive so I want to get back with him because I was jealous of the girl he was with. Shiloh says she felt the need to reclaim her ground. James says i.e. her territory, her control over his life. “and they say I’m the controlling one.”

Shiloh says he bought her a ticket back to Seattle. James uses an email to prove he actually flew her to L.A. He says she was full grown adult who lied about her pregnancy to get back with him. He shows one of the emails she sent him to try to get him back. In the email, she says she was living on the streets and was raped. She begs for his help and promises to never get in his way and to give him all the money she had. She says she would never let him live on the streets. James says he called her to see if she was okay and it turned out she was lying about that too.

Shiloh says she was overwhelmed with the fantasy feelings of having a ring on her finger. James says this is after she threatened to destroy his life. He says after that video, she agreed to get engaged to him. He show images from one of the last videos they made together and sarcastically says “that’s us not having fun together.”

They show a clip from “The Truth Hurts, But So Do Your Lies.” In the clip, James says Shiloh was allegedly pregnant with their child. He tells her to let people know the truth. He says he doesn’t want this to somehow end with her being the good person in all this. Modern day James says they don’t include that she was accused of sleeping with someone before she flew out to be with him again. He says the timing of the pregnancy was off so he didn’t know for sure if the baby was his. He says when the doula said she was pregnant, she was only back for 5 or 6 weeks tops.

He googles Rogue and reads it was the made up child of Shiloh and Greg’s. He said the fetus was real, but the photo was not. He says once again Discovery + including things out of context.

He’s mixing up the events. The photo was uploaded to Shiloh’s Facebook before they found out they were pregnant. It’s believed Shiloh uploaded it because she did not want to admit to the internet she made up a pregnancy in order to manipulate James into getting back together with her. Their real pregnancy and miscarriage happened after.

#queue

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trangs-studyblr · 4 years

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Verbs: Past, Present, Future Conjugation

The only part of speech that gets conjugated in Korean is verbs and adjectives (and 이다). As you already know, a sentence must end in either a verb or adjective or 이다.

Many conjugations require the additing ~아/어 to the stem of a verb or adjective. The “/” indicates that you need to choose:

~아: If the vowel in the last syllable of a stem is ㅏ, ㅗ,ㅑ or ㅛ

Exception: if the last syllable in a stem is 하, ~여 is added to the stem to make 해

~어: If the vowel in the last syllable of a stem is anything butㅏ, ㅗ,ㅑ or ㅛ

For verbs that have a last syllable that end in a vowel (including 하다), ~아/어 gets merged to the stem itself.

아 + 아 = 아 (eg: 가다 + 아 = 가)

오 + 아 = 와 (eg: 오다 + 아 = 와)

우 + 어 = 워 (eg: 배우다 + 어 = 배워)

이 + 어 = 여 (eg: 끼다 + 어 = 껴)

어 + 어 = 어 (eg: 서다 + 어 = 서)

여 + 어 = 여 (eg: 켜다 + 어 = 켜)

하 + 여 = 해 (eg: 공부하다 + 여 = 공부해) Although 하 + 여 can be written as 해, there will be some situations (usually official documents) where 하여 is used instead.

Most verbs and adjectives do not end in complex vowels (ㅠ, ㅑ, ㅔ, etc). With these, the same rule applies as above - the final vowel does not end in ㅏ or ㅗ, so add 어 plus the rest of the conjugated ending. With these complex vowels, it is irrelevant if you merge the addition to the stem. Both forms (merged and non-merged) would be correct.

바래다 + 었다 = 바랬다 or 바래었다 (to fade)

매다 + 었다 = 맸다 or 매었다 (to tie up)

메다 + 었다 = 멨다 or 메었다 (to put on/carry something on one’s shoulder)

Honorifics

In Korean, different conjugations of the same word are used to imply respect and politeness to the person you are speaking to depending on that person’s age and/or seniority in relation to yours.

In Korean, you must use a higher respect form when speaking to somebody older or higher in position.

나 is the informal way to say “I” and 저 is the formal way. As such, 나 is always used in informal situations and in sentences conjugated informally. Conversely, 저 is used in formal situations and in sentences conjugated formally. All conjugations with different honorific endings have exactly the same meaning.

Informal

Used when talking to your friends, people you are close with, people younger than you and your family.

Formal: ~요

Used in most situations, even in high respect situations. This is usually the way most people speak when they are trying to show respect to the person they are talking to. Most of the time, the conjugation is the same as the informal form with ~요 added to the end. Adding ~요 to the end of anything in Korean makes it more respectful.

High Respect: ~ㅂ니다

This is a very high respect form that is used when addressing people who deserve a lot of respect. The difference between IH and FH is not very big. As long as you speak in either of these two ways, you will not offend anyone.

Plain/Narrative present tense form: ~(ㄴ/는)다

This is the most basic way to conjugate past/present/future verbs. This form is used when talking or writing about what is happening, or “narrating” life events. What is being said is not intended for any specific audience, but rather just a general account of things.

Although grammatically correct, it is rarely used in conversation and mostly used in writing (eg: tests, books (not in dialogue), research papers, newspapers, magazines, etc). This form is also called “diary form” because it is usually used when writing to yourself.

Usage Type 1 (speaking and writing) is ONLY used when you are speaking to someone younger than yourself:

This conjugation is generally seen as informal, and usually used (with 나) when speaking to someone who is NOT older than you AND with whom you are close, or when writing in a journal or reading a novel.

1. To show your reaction or impression when talking about a present action or situation:

이거 좋다! = This is good! *In present tense, you would say 좋아 to the other person, but 좋다 expresses the reaction more clearly of seeing something for the first time.

여기 강아지 있다! = There is a puppy here! *In 반말, you would say 있어, but 있다 generally does a better job of expressing your surprise or excitement.

저기 기차 지나간다 = Over there, there is a train passing by *지나가 is typically used in 반말, but 지나간다 is used to show surprise or discovery of a certain fact.

전화 온다 = The phone is ringing *In 반말, you would say 와. However, because you are describing a certain situation or action AS it is happening and not directing the phrase at anyone in particular, the plain form is used.

오늘 날씨 좋다! = The weather is good today!

전화가 안 돼요. 어? 다시 된다! = The phone is not working. Huh? It is working again!

2. to talk about a present action, situation, or a regular activity;

나 먼저 간다 = I am leaving now (before you) *In 반말, you would say 가 or 갈게, but here you are narrating your action as you are doing it, as if to say “Hey, I am leaving now, as you can see. Show a reaction right now if you are going to react.”

그러면, 다음에는 너 초대 안 한다 = If you do that (If that is the case), next time, I will not invite you (and make that a rule) *할게 or 할 거야 are two ways to say this in 반말 since you are talking about the future. To describe it as a rule or a habit, you can use 한다.

저기 내 친구들 온다 = There come my friends

그럼 나는 여기서 기다린다? = Then I will wait here, okay? *By adding a question mark, you can imply that you want the other person to react.

Usage Type 2 (writing only)

When used in writing or towards no specific audience, the distinction between formal and casual language disappears. The sentence is neither formal or informal – as it is just relaying facts. When used like this, no specific person is the speaker, and nobody is directly spoken to, so you don’t generally see 저 or 나 with these forms.

This is a common way of describing a series of actions and is often used in personal journals, recipes, narration scripts for documentary films, or wherever a very neutral and narrative voice is required.

경은은 오늘도 아침 8시에 일어난다. 일어나서 제일 먼저 하는 일은 핸드폰을 보는 것이다. = (In a documentary film) Kyeong-eun gets up at 8am as usual. The first thing she does after she gets up is check her cellphone. 이 학교에서는 500명의 학생들이 한국어를 배운다 = In this school, 500 students learn Korean 한국어를 잘하고 싶으면, 매일 공부해야 한다 = If you want to speak Korean well, you need to study every day

Although plain form is not very common in conversation, the conjugation is important to understand more complex grammar or to read most printed forms of Korean.

Present Tense

Informal

Add ~어/아/여 to the stem of the verb.

나는 밥을 먹어 = I eat rice (먹다 + 어) 나는 집에 가 = I go home (가다 + 아) 나는 선생님을 봐 = I see the teacher (보다 + 아) 나는 문을 열어 = I open the door (열다 + 어) 나는 한국어를 공부해 = I study Korean (공부하다 + 여)

Formal

Add ~요 to the end of the informal conjugations

저는 밥을 먹어요 = I eat rice (먹다 + 어요) 저는 집에 가요 = I go home (가다 + 아요) 저는 선생님을 봐요 = I see the teacher (보다 + 아요) 저는 문을 열어요 = I open the door (열다 + 어요) 저는 한국어를 공부해요 = I study Korean (공부하다 + 여요)

High respect

Add ~ㅂ니다 if a word stem ends in a vowel and ~습니다 if it ends in a consonant.

저는 밥을 먹습니다 = I eat rice (먹다 + 습니다) 저는 집에 갑니다 = I go home (가다 + ㅂ니다) 저는 선생님을 봅니다 = I see the teacher (보다 + ㅂ니다) 저는 문을 열습니다 = I open the door (열다 + 습니다) 저는 한국어를 공부합니다 = I study Korean (공부하다 + ㅂ니다)

Plain

For nouns, add ~ㄴ 다 if a word stem ends in a vowel and ~는다 if it ends in a consonant.

나는 밥을 먹는다 = I eat rice (먹다 + 는다) 나는 집에 간다 = I go home (가다 + ㄴ다) 나는 선생님을 본다 = I see the teacher (보다 + ㄴ다) 나는 문을 열는다 = I open the door (열다 + 는다) 나는 한국어를 공부한니다 = I study Korean (공부하다 + ㄴ다)

For adjectives, just leave the adjective as it is, and it is conjugated in the present tense.

그 사람은 아름답다 = That person is beautiful 그 길은 길다 = That street is long

*In the case of descriptive verbs, since the verb stem is what remains after removing ~다 from the verb, the narrative present tense form is actually the same as the verb’s dictionary form.

*있다 and 없다 are conjugated in the same way as descriptive verbs; therefore, they stay the same in the narrative present tense.

Past Tense

Add ~았/었/였 to the stem of the verb. The appropriate ending is added afterwards based on conjugation/formality.

Informal

Add ~어 after 었/았/였.

나는 밥을 먹었어 = I ate rice (먹다 + 었어) 나는 집에 갔어 = I went home (가다 + 았어) 나는 선생님을 봤어 = I saw the teacher (보다 + 았어) 나는 문을 열었어 = I opened the door (열다 + 었어) 나는 한국어를 공부했어 = I studied Korean (공부하다 + 였어)

Formal

Add ~요 to the end of the informal conjugations.

저는 밥을 먹었어요 = I ate rice (먹다 + 었어요) 저는 집에 갔어요 = I went home (가다 + 았어요) 저는 선생님을 봤어요 = I saw the teacher (보다 + 았어요) 저는 문을 열었어요 = I opened the door (열다 + 었어요) 저는 한국어를 공부했어요 = I studied Korean (공부하다 + 였어요)

High respect

Add ~습니다 after 었/았/였.

저는 밥을 먹었습니다 = I ate rice (먹다 + 었습니다) 저는 집에 갔습니다 = I went home (가다 + 았습니다) 저는 선생님을 봤습니다 = I saw the teacher (보다 + 았습니다) 저는 문을 열었습니다 = I opened the door (열다 + 었습니다) 저는 한국어를 공부했습니다 = I studied Korean (공부하다 + 였습니다)

Plain

Add 다 after 었/았/였.

나는 밥을 먹었다 = I ate rice (먹다 + 었다) 나는 집에 갔다 = I went home (가다 + 았다) 나는 선생님을 봤다 = I saw the teacher (보다 + 았다) 나는 문을 열었다 = I opened the door (열다 + 었다) 나는 한국어를 공부했다 = I studied Korean (공부하다 + 였다)

Future Tense: ㄹ/을 것이다

Add ~ㄹ/을 to the stem of an adjective or verb to changes it to an adjective that describes a noun in the future tense. The noun that is used in this situation is 것 (thing) - sometimes shortened to 거. Then, to end the sentence, add 이다 conjugated in the present tense. Because the ~ㄹ/을 creates a future sentence, 이다 does not need to be in the future.

~ㄹ / 을 + 것 / 거 + 이다

*Note that the conjugation of 이다 changes depending on whether 것 or 거 is used because one ends in a vowel and one in a consonant. Koreans also often confuse whether to add ~이에요, ~예요 or ~에요 to 거, so it is not uncommon to see somebody use 할 거에요.

Be aware of irregular verbs and how they are affected by the addition of ~ㄹ/을.

Informal

Add the informal conjugation of 이다 (~(이)야) to ~ㄹ/을 것/거

나는 밥을 먹을 것이야 / 거야 = I will eat rice (먹다 + ~을 것이야 / 거야) 나는 집에 갈 것이야 / 거야 = I will go home (가다 + ~ㄹ 것이야 / 거야) 나는 선생님을 볼 것이야 / 거야 = I will see the teacher (보다 + ~ㄹ 것이야 / 거야) 나는 문을 열을 것이야 / 거야 = I will open the door (열다 + ~을 것이야 / 거야) 나는 한국어를 공부할 것이야 / 거야 = I will study Korean (공부하다 + ~ㄹ 것이야 / 거야)

Formal

Add the formal conjugation of 이다 (~이에요/예요) to ~ㄹ/을 것/거

저는 밥을 먹을 것이에요 / 거예요 = I will eat rice (먹다 + ~을 것이에요 / 거예요) 저는 집에 갈 것이에요 / 거예요 = I will go home (가다 + ~ㄹ 것이에요 / 거예요) 저는 선생님을 볼 것이에요 / 거예요 = I will see the teacher (보다 + ~ㄹ 것이에요 / 거예요) 저는 문을 열을 것이에요 / 거예요 = I will open the door (열다 + ~을 것이에요 / 거예요) 저는 한국어를 공부할 것이에요 / 거예요 = I will study Korean (공부하다 + ~ㄹ 것이에요 / 거예요)

High Respect

Add the high respect conjugation of 이다 (~입니다) to ~ㄹ/을 것/거

저는 밥을 먹을 것입니다 / 거입니다 = I will eat rice (먹다 + ~을 것입니다 / 거입니다) 저는 집에 갈 것입니다 / 거입니다 = I will go home (가다 + ~ㄹ 것입니다 / 거입니다) 저는 선생님을 볼 것입니다 / 거입니다 = I will see the teacher (보다 + ~ㄹ 것입니다 / 거입니다) 저는 문을 열을 것입니다 / 거입니다 = I will open the door (열다 + ~을 것입니다 / 거입니다) 저는 한국어를 공부할 것입니다 / 거입니다 = I will study Korean (공부하다 + ~ㄹ 것입니다 / 거입니다)

*Colloquially, 거입니다 is often shortened to 겁니다

Plain

Add the plain conjugation of 이다 (~ㄴ다) to ~ㄹ/을 것/거

나는 밥을 먹을 것인다 / 거인다 = I will eat rice (먹다 + ~을 것인다 / 거인다) 나는 집에 갈 것인다 / 거인다 = I will go home (가다 + ~ㄹ 것인다 / 거인다) 나는 선생님을 볼 것인다 / 거인다 = I will see the teacher (보다 + ~ㄹ 것인다 / 거인다) 나는 문을 열을 것인다 / 거인다 = I will open the door (열다 + ~을 것인다 / 거인다) 나는 한국어를 공부할 것인다 / 거인다 = I will study Korean (공부하다 + ~ㄹ 것인다 / 거인다)

Future Tense: 겠다

Add ~겠 to the stem. The appropriate ending is added afterwards based on conjugation/formality. Unlike the past and present tense conjugations, there is no difference if the stem ends in a vowel or a consonant.

Informal

Add ~어 after 겠.

나는 밥을 먹겠어 = I will eat rice (먹다 + 겠어) 나는 집에 가겠어 = I will go home (가다 + 겠어) 나는 선생님을 보겠어 = I will see the teacher (보다 + 겠어) 나는 문을 열겠어 = I will open the door (열다 + 겠어) 나는 한국어를 공부하겠어 = I will study Korean (공부하다 + 겠어)

Formal

Add ~요 to the end of the informal conjugations.

저는 밥을 먹겠어요 = I will eat rice (먹다 + 겠어요) 저는 집에 가겠어요 = I will go home (가다 + 겠어요) 저는 선생님을 보겠어요 = I will see the teacher (보다 + 겠어요) 저는 문을 열겠어요 = I will open the door (열다 + 겠어요) 저는 한국어를 공부하겠어요 = I will study Korean (공부하다 + 겠어요)

High respect

Add ~습니다 after 겠.

저는 밥을 먹겠습니다 = I will eat rice (먹다 + 겠습니다) 저는 집에 가겠습니다 = I will go home (가다 + 겠습니다) 저는 선생님을 보겠습니다 = I will see the teacher (보다 + 겠습니다) 저는 문을 열겠습니다 = I will open the door (열다 + 겠습니다) 저는 한국어를 공부하겠습니다 = I will study Korean (공부하다 + 겠습니다)

Plain

Add ~다 after 겠.

나는 밥을 먹겠다 = I will eat rice (먹다 + 겠다) 나는 집에 가겠다 = I will go home (가다 + 겠다) 나는 선생님을 보겠다 = I will see the teacher (보다 + 겠다) 나는 문을 열겠다 = I will open the door (열다 + 겠다) 나는 한국어를 공부하겠다 = I will study Korean (공부하다 + 겠다)

*Two verbs that are often conjugated in the future tense without actually having a meaning in the future tenses are 알다 (to know) and 모르다 (to not know). 알다 and 모르다 are often conjugated to 알겠다 or 모르겠다. Although they are conjugated to the future tense, those two words are typically used to express that somebody knows/doesn’t know something in the present tense.

Resources:

How to Study Korean: Unit 1 Lesson 5

How to Study Korean: Unit 1 Lesson 6

How to Study Korean: Unit 1 Lesson 9

Talk to Me in Korean: Level 1 Lesson 16

Talk to Me in Korean: Level 1 Lesson 17

TTMIK Level 2 Lesson 1. Future Tense / -ㄹ/을 거예요, 할 거예요

TTMIK Level 3 Lesson 6. Future Tenses / -(으)ㄹ 거예요 vs -(으)ㄹ게요

TTMIK Level 5 Lesson 16. Narrative Present Tense in Korean / -(ㄴ/는)다

#노트 #문법 #동사 #일반 #한국어 #korean #notes #grammar #verbs #regular #conjugation

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backofthebookshelf · 5 years

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Book Recs for Magnus Archives Fans

I was just rambling in tags the other day about how my avatarsona was "the Archivist, but a public librarian: Oh, you like dirt?? Let me tell you all the dirt stories I have!!!!" so, uh, here I am I guess.

I'm gonna spare you all the M.R. James and Algernon Blackwood and House of Leaves and Blindsight; you know all that already. These are my horror backlist recs.

The Bone Key by Sarah Monette Y'all. Y'ALL. Kyle Murchison Booth was absolutely the Archivist before Gertrude. He was poached from the Parrington by the Usher Foundation and the Eye glommed onto him at once, because the Eye loves disaster queers who can't people right (and also Gertrude). This I believe to be true, and so will you.

Kyle Murchison Booth is an archivist at the Parrington Museum, which is somewhere in New England, sometime in the early twentieth century. He also has a lifelong entanglement with the supernatural which is almost entirely not his fault, and he would very much like it to stop, but he also feels responsible and he can't just let evil mirrors and cursed necklaces and possessed dressing gowns randomly eat people who have no idea what's happening. Even if it means he's going to suffer for it.

(This collection doesn't contain all of the Booth stories, so here I am going to link to "White Charles", which happens to be my very favorite Booth story.)

For you if your favorite part is: honestly everything about MAG, from the modern sensibilities about early twentieth-century-horror, truly eerie ghost stories, to suffering eldritch librarians (thanks to whoever tagged my most recent fic with that you're so valid), monsterfucking and soft gay pining. No happy endings here, sorry.

Bedfellow by Jeremy C. Shipp You may or may not have heard that Macmillan-Tor is launching a horror imprint, and I don't know how long it's been since a major publishing house has had a horror imprint, but I am EXCITE. This book is part of the trend that's the reason why: Tor.com has been publishing these kickass novellas for a couple years now, and their horror books are top notch.

One night a stranger knocks on a family's living room window and asks to be invited in. They ask him to stay the night. He's an old friend, after all, he needs a place to stay. You can't kick out your twin brother when he's just gotten divorced, no matter how much Gatorade he spills on your two-year-old hardwood floors.

For you if your favorite part is: the Stranger, this is all Stranger, it's terrifying and good.

Through the Woods by Emily Carroll A graphic novel, some of these were originally posted as webcomics (have you seen His Face All Red, and if not, why not???) and the only disadvantage to having them in book form is they can't blink at you. Probably. Very folktale-ish, with all the death and violence that implies, and also the slightly eerie feeling that you know this story already, and then it turns around and slaps you.

For you if your favorite part is: looking over your shoulder when the foley gets good; Once Upon a Time in Space (I know that's not technically part of the Magnus Archives but shush)

Universal Harvester by John Darnielle I am not usually a fan of artists who jump media. Just because you can write songs doesn't mean you can write novels. Apparently writing good songs doesn't mean you can't write good novels, though, because John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats (pretty sure that's his full name at this point) wrote Universal Harvester and I love him for it.

Jeremy works at a video rental place in Nevada, Iowa (it's pronounced Nah-vey-da, and yes it’s real, I've been there, and yes, it's probably haunted). It's the 1990s, and someone's been returning their VHS tapes with something on them that isn't just the movie. Footage that includes a barn that he recognizes, just outside of town.

Fair warning: this is not the kind of mystery that gets tied up in a nice bow at the end.

For you if your favorite part is: Jon losing it with paranoia in S2, The People's Church of the Divine Host, the Lonely

The Good House by Tananarive Due If this author's name is unfamiliar to you, RUN, do not walk, to your nearest internet bookseller and purchase every single one of her books immediately, you will not regret it. She also just came out with a documentary on black horror, Horror Noire, on the Shudder streaming service. They've got a free month if you aren't a horror movie person, it'd be worth your while. This book summary sounds like it's full of tropes. It is, but Due has the cred to write them well.

Angela Toussaint hopes to salvage her suffering marriage and her troubled relationship with her teenage son with a trip to her grandmother's house, a home so beloved the locals in small-town Washington state call it "The Good House," but tragedy strikes instead. Two years later she returns and finds that the tragedy isn't over, and it's not going to stop on its own.

For you if your favorite part is: the very practical statement-givers who know what's happening to them and Will Not Put Up With This Shit, the Desolation, the Hill Top Road statements

The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins Is this horror disguised as fantasy? Found family disguised as horror? Grown-up Neil Gaiman? Less grimdark George R.R. Martin? Honestly I have no fucking idea, but it's amazing. Fair warning, unlike Magnus Archives, this deserves all kinds of trigger warnings, including but not necessarily limited to: sexual assault, torture, mental manipulation, dysfunctional families, incest(?)

Father is missing, and his twelve children (though extremely talented in their own ways, and not strictly speaking children any more) are at a loss without him. But also, without him, things are starting to seem different. He might be God? They might not be human? (They were probably human once.) He might not be God but maybe one of them might be next? If any of them survive.

For you if your favorite part is: slowly turning into a monster, the relationships between entities and avatars, monsters hot (not kidding about the trigger warnings)

The Loney by Andrew Michael Hurley I have to keep reminding myself that Magnus Archives isn't really folk horror, there are two separate (if related) strains of British horror here and folk horror is not the one we're on, but at the same time I really want a good creepy rural pagan cult to show up in the series, you know? Anyway.

When he was a child, our narrator used to go with his family on an Easter pilgrimage to shrine on a bleak stretch of Lancaster coastline locals called The Loney. His Catholic mother was searching for a cure for his older brother, and she was convinced if they kept going long enough she would be granted her wish. The locals, however, are not huge fans of her annual visits, and even less so when the boys become involved with the goings-on of a pair of glamorous tourists.

For you if your favorite part is: the Lukases, I didn't realize until I was writing this up that I'm picturing Moreland House in the exact place described by this book

Eutopia by David Nickle One thing I love about the historical statements in Magnus Archives is just how truly historical they are. There's almost nothing in "The Piper" that isn't historically accurate - yes, Wilfrid Owen spent several days in a trench underneath the shredded bodies of his fellow soldiers. Like. You can't make up horror worse than that. But then you add monsters and it gets good. And I'm a sucker for early-twentieth-century history, it's such a bonkers time.

It's 1911 and the new Eugenics Record Office is sending agents out to catalog the disabled, infirm, and otherwise undesirable members of society so they can figure out what to do about them. In the utopian town of Eliada, Idaho, Dr. Andrew Waggoner runs from the racism of American society and straight into the influence of Mister Juke, the most troubling patient in his new practice. (Trigger warnings for, obviously, a whole lot of ableism. Treated like the monstrousness it is, but there's a lot of it.)

For you if your favorite part is: learning history through horror, the Flesh

A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay I hate male writers writing about teenage girls, so you are going to have to trust me when I say that I had to check, several times while reading this book, to make sure that Paul Tremblay is actually a dude. He's very good. This book was kind of his breakout, so if you follow horror you've read it already, but if you don't necessarily then please do not miss it. His newer ones, Disappearance at Devil's Rock (Stranger, Spiral) and The Cabin at the End of the World (Slaughter, Extinction), are also good but not as good as this, I think.

Fourteen-year-old Marjorie is having a rough time - outbursts, hallucinations, paranoia. Treatment is difficult (and expensive) and her family ambivalent; they turn to a local Catholic priest, who recommends an exorcism and, to help manage those medical bills, a production company who's interested in filming a reality TV show about the process. Fifteen years later, Marjorie's sister deconstructs the now-famous show and wrestles with her own memories of childhood. Trigger warnings for ableism on the part of many of the characters, but not the narrative.

For you if your favorite part is: the Spiral, metafictional analysis of horror tropes

#the magnus archives #book recs #there's a lot of other things i could tag this as #but i wrote it for this fandom #is this a transparent excuse to get more people to read booth stories??#it is #it really is

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songwritingtipsandtricks · 4 years

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New episode of the podcast to this blog!

Transcript:

Hello and welcome everyone again to another episode to this podcast. My name is Kieper, and I am thrilled to talk to you today.

This podcast is dedicated to writing lyrics and overcoming writer's block. I hope the previous episodes helped you with just that. If you like the show so far, I'd love to hear your feedback on the content and really appreciate your ratings in whatever application you are listening to this show to help this show further develop. If you know anyone that might benefit from the tips we are talking about, feel free to share the program with them.

So last week, we were talking about writing lyrics with the mindset of a programmer. And we came to the conclusion that we need to write every day, see structures in the code, solve future problems and look at other people's code. And I hope these commandments helped you with just that and you have tried to use these techniques in your songwriting already. Maybe it even paid off somehow.

In the past week, I have been searching for something new to talk to you about. And then I realised that this corona shutdown itself is something we could be talking about. As it gives us as songwriters a lot of opportunities to grow, write songs and collaborate, even though we are apart from each other. So this week is dedicated to the songwriters Home Office. We will be talking about routines in your quarantine, some software to use in your writing and how you could collaborate with others while they are not physically present.

So what can you do when everything stands still, most concerts for this year got cancelled and you don't know what to do? First of all, relax, it is quite essential to lose all the tension that builds up over the months of routine and everyday life. Look at it as an extra holiday for the first couple of days. Nothing is more toxic than pressure when you are trying to be creative. It is art after all that you are trying to produce. Drink some tea, read a lot, do all the things that you wanted to do when you were too stressed from working your sideline jobs perhaps.

When boredom hits, you will get creative automatically. It might surface in lyrics that pop up in your mind. It might also be an interest in covering some songs that inspire you, and you would like to incorporate in your songs. Try out some new styles or tunings on your instrument and develop your skills. It might ignite a spark already. While we are mostly talking about writing lyrics, knowing your instrument is an essential part of your career as well. And if your instrument is your voice, well then go ahead and do regular singing exercises to increase your strength and range. Try imitating singing techniques and scales of your favourite singers. Read a lot about your instrument and about techniques to further improve your skills. Notice this time as an opportunity for you to focus on your creative path and use it wisely.

When it comes to reading, read some blogs or listen to podcasts that target your field of interest. These formats are easy to follow along and portable. So whenever you are making breakfast or shower, try listening to a podcast, read some blog posts that inspire you and see whether something pops up in your mind. For me, quite a lot of ideas pop up from podcasts and phrases that the hosts are using.

A high profile strategy for writing better lyrics is looking at other's songs. So when you are listening to music, try to follow the story, or read the words alongside the music. You might as well use a mindmap to understand the full story. After that, you can use that mindmap to write your own story based on this blueprint by altering some factors such as character traits, settings and relationships. Most popular stories in books are based on the same foundation by narrating differently. So try using this with your favourite songs. You can also try to change the perspective to tell the story from a different angle.

Okay, so much for development and finding and making up new stories, after all, there are some rules that we need to follow when writing coherent and good-sounding lyrics. So you might want to look up a webpage to find out more about literary terms, meter, syllables and basic rules to writing poems. This is a powerful tool to write lyrics that fit your music and even make your music follow the words. If you know about this, then you can translate words into music or vice versa. It is because speech has a rhythm, it has patterns, and there are so many useful devices to make our story more appealing and convincing. So look up some basic rules of writing poems.

And after that, you might want to analyse whether your favourite songs follow some of these rules, or where they break with them. As we said last time, it is essential to see patterns and schemes in songs. Repetition is quite crucial in pop music, as it gives the listener a silver lining to follow. Imagine for a second, you are listening to a song by your one of your idols which you have never heard before. Still, after the first chorus, you can follow the melodic line and sing along to, because there are a lot of repetitions in the song that vary only slightly from the one prior. So try some repetitions both lyrically and musically to give your listener something to follow along.

A significant opportunity opens up with this because you can use the rhythmical blueprint of another song for your next song. Analyse the meter of the song and how the patterns of the different parts are structured to write your song following the same blueprint.

What can you do else than writing lyrics? Well, besides your instrument, knowing how to record yourself helps to make proper demos of your newly written songs. So while you might not have an entire recording studio at hand, there are some ways to record yourself. First and maybe the most used method would be the voice memo application on your phone, which is in your pocket most of the times, I guess. So wherever you are, you can quickly record a song idea. Another tool on your phone would be GarageBand on your iPhone or WalkBand on Android. Personally, I have only used GarageBand, yet WalkBand should be able to do the same with some more limitations. In GarageBand, you can record yourself, add virtual instruments, add loops from Apple Loops to find interesting beats and samples to try something new. You could also use live loops to use it in a live setup if you want to or make a remix. So endless possibilities right in your pocket. Interestingly enough, you can even do a multitrack recording with an interface or use amps when you are busking.

But this is just for jotting down ideas. The proper software would be on your computer, I guess. So whatever digital audio workstation you are using, you should be a pro in using it to your benefit. So know everything about it. Watch as many videos and tutorials as you possibly can. It should be your second nature. With a proper interface and mic, you are able to do everything in your DAW, you don't need a recording studio. Well, not for now and not for your usual work. The most famous DAWs would be Logic Pro X, Ableton Live, ProTools, Cubase and so many more. So find the right DAW for your work. It is just like finding the right pair of shoes. Once you know about your DAW, you might as well want to watch some production videos of your favourite songs to understand how great producers make songs stand out and share their tricks and best practices.

So one thing that is really important for becoming a better writer is to not focus on writing at all. Try learning something new every day that is not work-related. Watch documentaries or join some online courses on a variety of subjects. Personally, I try to complete one course each month on FutureLearn a platform hosted by the BritishCouncil. The classes are free, and surely there is something for everyone. Take a walk outside and sketch a tree or a river, do something for fun and self-reflect on this later in your writing. Find one moment each day that could be worthy of writing about even though you have not been trying to find something. Find inspiration in your actions. In time, this will lead to an open mind that is ready to find new things to write about in every little thing you do.

So how can we write songs together in these days? Remote collaboration is possible through Skype, Zoom, FaceTime or WhatsApp Video calls. However, I found a useful tool on the web a few days ago, and it inspired me to collaborate with others and write new songs. Songcraft.io helps with writing lyrics, tabs and chord sheets with others in real-time. So you could talk via FaceTime and at the same time write lyrics, put the right chords to them and find words to rhyme or paraphrase them. So when it comes to collaborating on the same project, try giving this a shot. Maybe this sparks imagination. Accompanying this program, I use RhymeGenie and TuneSmith that have a more in-depth dictionary and functionality to adjust the search. The urban dictionary, Merriam-Webster, or MacMillan provide us with the correct definition to words we want to incorporate.

And as always, turn off that inner critic and just write, you will still get better at writing when you are doing it. So do not think you are at your peak yet. Just persevere. It is a steep and rough way to the point you want to reach, so take step by step. You will always find something to rephrase.

So that is it for today already. I hope these approaches help you with writing great lyrics and awesome songs this week. I would really appreciate your feedback and ratings on the platforms you are listening to, all the scripts will be available on my Tumblr, Facebook and Webpage. If you have an approach that helps you and you would like to share with me, simply send me a voice message via the link in the description and get in contact with me. To support the show, you could donate on Patreon and get exclusive access to exercises, reviews of songs and exclusive episodes to this show.

So much for this time, have a wonderful week and happy songwriting.

#podcast #Apple podcast #google podcast #Stitcher #breaker #outcast #pocketcast #Spotify podcast #spotify #music #lyrics #home office #daw #Logic Pro x #Ableton live #cubase #protools #garageband

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bookaddict24-7 · 5 years

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MUSIC MONDAYS!

A series where I recommend a book, review it, and create a short playlist to give a sense of what the book is about.

This review may contain spoilers.

Trigger warning for this book: Abuse, Grief

This is a review of an Audiobook.

I’ve been listening to audiobooks a lot more in the last year and every so often I come across some pretty cool ones that I simply can’t stop listening to. Of all of the audiobooks I’ve heard, Sadie by Courtney Summers is probably the most creative and emotionally moving. Told with a full cast and the quirky format of a podcast and traditional storytelling, Sadie is definitely an audiobook that should be on everyone’s To-Listen list.

Sadie is on the hunt. When her younger sister is found murdered, Sadie is sure she knows who the killer is and she’s not shy about hunting them down. She will meet new people, face new mysteries, and even force herself to face the grief she’s holding close to her heart. While Sadie hunts her demons, West, a radio personality, is conducting his own hunt. Told in the form of a podcast, West is searching for the truth behind Sadie’s disappearance and how her going missing and her sister’s death is a reminder of how many tragic events occur every day to young girls in North America.

Summers does a fantastic job of creating characters that are realistic and don’t suffer from the tropes that seem to follow tragic characters. Sadie stutters--not because of the death of her sister, but because it has been a part of who she is for a good chunk of her life. Her protectiveness of her sister is born from their history, and her determination is governed by her strong personality. She is perhaps one of the saddest characters I’ve read simply because her grief was so raw and honest. When grieving, a person isn’t always thinking about life in metaphors, but in the “what-ifs” and the “what-nows”. I saw these emotions in Sadie and my heart ached for her.

There are other characters worth noting in this book, such as the second narrator, West. He himself has a family and the last thing he wanted was to take on the task of hunting down Sadie and the mystery of her dead sister. But just as we continue to learn more about the circumstances of Sadie’s life and choices, West also begins to understand that there is so much more than surface level facts when looking at a story. His own growth as he becomes intwined with the sisters’ story is both great and depressing because though he knows the world is an imperfect one, he is being stripped of a certain naivety that some people inevitably carry with them. It is doubly sad because he himself has a young child.

While not every character was written as more than one-dimensional, the ones that were well written were the ones that truly mattered. Sadie’s neighbour, for example, was an asset to the story because it’s a great way of seeing how someone from the outside might have viewed the situation and what they might have missed.

Death isn’t made into this magical creature in Sadie. Yes, it is a prominent topic in this book, but it is just a truth for Sadie. It is incredibly sad and heartbreaking when you realize that while we’re hunting with Sadie and sleuthing with West, a young teenage girl won’t have a future. Perhaps one of the things that hit me the most about this book was the loss of so much promise, as is always the case when a child’s life is stolen.

One of the final dark topics I want to touch on is the abuse mentioned in this book. I like how Summers wrote about the topic because a lot of the time I believe that sexual abuse is a dangerously secretive event when it happens. By giving hints and alluding to the events by slowly revealing them, Summers creates this ominous feeling of something terrifying hiding under the already dark layers of her novel. At times, her writing gave enough detail to be the obvious monster in the dark without actually showing its face. It’s such an important topic because of how the characters have been affected by the abuse years later and how it’s a cycle that needs to be broken. I am fortunate to not have a relatable experience for me to draw on, so I can only comment on what I’ve read in the past, or seen in documentaries, so forgive me if I am wrong.

I didn’t read the physical book alongside the audiobook, but I think it would have taken away from the experience. Having the “transcripts” of the podcast would have made it harder to believe that West was a real person searching for the truth. I loved the production and how it felt like he was actually travelling around looking for answers. One of the best touches, in my opinion, was the use of music. There’s a particular song used at the end of the audiobook that made me tear up.

Jarring, honest, and gut-wrenching, Sadie is most definitely a book I recommend. For once, I do strongly recommend picking up the audiobook over the physical copy. It’s an experience I would love for others to have!

My Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5

Age Recommendation: 15+

Genres: Contemporary, Mystery, Grief, Abuse, Audiobook

Add it to your Goodreads here.

See the playlist on Spotify here.

The Playlist:

When You’re Gone by Avril Lavigne

She Remembers by Max Richter

Sisters by Thomas Newman

Lost Boy by Ruth B.

Human by Christina Perri

How Far Does the Dark Go? by Anya Marina

Cold by Jorge Mendez

Have you read this book yet? Would you recommend it?

Happy reading!

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quietdaysco · 5 years

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The Process: Research

Ever wanted to make something, but didn’t know where to start? We too. In this second installment of The Process, we’ve finished forming our idea and now it’s time to inform it.

2. Research

Mind you, this isn’t a “step two” per se. Here’s the big kicker on what we soon discovered about this part of development:

Research is an active, ongoing process, whose goals change throughout pre- to post-production.

We may have created the idea of Primrose Path but our research didn’t stop at the end of pre-production, as if to say we’ve got everything we need and now it’s time to dive into making it. During production, we still had questions. Research is the only reason that, if you stopped us on the side of the street, the topics of future biomaterials and methods, dynamic UI design, and historic architectural eras could all pop up in the same conversation.

And all of that is valuable information to us, because researching is relevant in every area of the process! But what kind of information did we look for?

Our five categories are Community Canvassing, Story & Character Development, Team Management, Game Design, and Marketing.

Let’s break it down:

A. Community Canvassing

Identifying and learning our target audience.

Identify personal wants from our game.

We have to stop and think: what kind of game do we want to play? If you want something, chances are, there’s a group of people out there who want the same thing. They are our audience.

Identify the type of media and genres relevant to our game.

Our video game is a visual novel, and its market genres are predominantly adult, drama, and romance. Because the medium of visual novels originated and is popular in Japan, we use the term otome (Japanese for “maiden” or “girl”) or otoge (portmanteau of “otome” and “game”) in our genre list. So, our game is an adult, drama, romance, otome—or focused on a female main character who deals with a cast of potential male partners.

Case any census data and statistics on target and related communities’ research blogs.

This one was important to us because we like considering quantifiable data that gives us the bigger picture. Statistics blogs and databases helped us get a clearer view of different demographic subsets of the visual novel community. It’s also important that we read material about sister media like the general interactive fiction community, as both deal with reader input and resultant story-branching.

Inquire fans in those genres for game recommendations and any opinions.

Community hubs are a click away. We connected with others via forums like Reddit and instant messenger servers like Discord that specifically revolve around fans and game developers of the visual novel medium.

Read game reviews in those genres by other fans and critics.

The most interesting thing for us when we read these reviews is not so much what someone did or didn’t like, but what aspects of the game they focused on, and what other topics they decided to connect to their original answer. You may be surprised how people decide to expand on their answer and where tangents lead, which is very telling, valuable associations.

Connect with other developers for support and networking.

The Western visual novel community is a small community, but commercial success is not confined to said community. Building a rapport with other hardworking devs is important, as it follows us in such a small space—for better or worse. There’s a lot to learn from the wider indie development community, too.

B. Story & Character Development

Creating an organic experience.

Real-world parallels to inspire for or reference in game direction.

Whether we take a trip to the city with a camera and sketchbook, rent and buy books from libraries and bookstores, or visit Google Maps in satellite view, we are pulling up everything we need to inform our game’s locations, people, and events.

Observe and converse with people.

The behaviors, quirks, appearances, opinions, and feelings of people are abundant, and it’s not until we observe and sometimes familiarize ourselves with others that we catch some of the concerted expressions that create a nuanced individual.

Interacting with others is first-hand experience, and listening to or reading others’ experiences is second-hand. If we can't write from first or second-hand experience, we must inform ourselves with other sources, as it’s crucial in writing characters with whom we may not directly or easily identify. We often defer to interviews and documentaries to start.

Psychology and sociology research.

Sometimes reading from experts about general trends and triggers of the human condition makes it easier for us to understand, verify, and better portray things like addictions, behavioral disorders and mental illnesses, fetishes, and cultural stigmas for our character development and world-building. Though this isn’t limited to negative or abnormal things we cannot identify. It can also be in what ways the values of a person or society evolve, or how players interact with video game avatars!

Read and deconstruct critically-acclaimed novels in our genres

It’s understood that if people want to become better writers, they have to become better readers. Being able to settle down with some traditionally-published, well-received books relevant to our interests will help us build on our knowledge of suitable writing conventions, as well as analyzing broader narrative elements, like plot pacing. We even have a list of writing resources saved to help us break it all down!

C. Team Management

Standardizing ways to increase workflow efficiency.

Pipeline development.

Know a general end-date to keep in mind for the finished product. Setting a scope for our project and a timeline for production challenges us to keep on task as we work towards that date. We’ve set ours up by month and refer to that document for phase estimation.

Time management, task delegation, task tracking, and work logs.

Whether your team is me, myself, and I, or made of employees and contractors, it’s important to stay synchronized and keep record of that progress. Quiet Days has our own GitScrum board to help us with assigning tasks, timing how long a task takes us versus the amount of time we expected it to take, and streamlining the process from start to finish. It also keeps track of percentage of overall project completion and key performance indicators (KIP), or the metrics of a user’s personal contribution and work ethic over a period of time. There are a plethora of other task management sites and apps available to use too.

Style guides to standardize writing and art.

Between the two of us at Quiet Days, we both work on the 2D art and writing, and we both default to different visual and writing styles. So, we’ve set up and continue to add to our respective guides, keeping the art style and narration and character portrayals consistent. This is especially helpful should we take up other artists or writers, so that they can easily assimilate into our workflow.

Account delegation for social media and company correspondence.

Understanding who does what for cohesion under a company brand is important for its image. We share all accounts under the company name, so technically both of us have access, which works well for our team of two. It’s early, but so far “delegation” seems to have taken on a natural division between Coda and Elm—the former taking to micro-blogging, and the latter to streaming and forum correspondence. While this dynamic may change in the future, we both refer back to each other under the Quiet Days brand.

Potential for contracting help.

We’ve considered that there may be a time in production where a helping hand is needed. Additional considerations like the freelancing market and pricing are kept in mind for the future.

D. Game design

Scrutinizing game elements from a developer’s lens.

Consider for which platform to design.

PC? Mobile? Console? Cross-platform? While we are primarily designing our game to be played on PC, should we want to capitalize on popular handheld consoles like the Nintendo Switch, for example, things like game engines and builds, game optimization, resolution, encryption, touch capabilities, and content guidelines for their private company platform all need to be considered. These things change between platforms.

Consider designing globally.

There are people different from us who would like to enjoy our game too. We consider the user experience (UX) for things like the possibility of game translations and using fonts types that read well for different language characters like Chinese or Russian. We also consider how to customize the experience to accommodate for players with different cognitive abilities, which falls under accessibility features.

Play what’s commercially un/successful and community-recommended.

We can learn a lot from both good and bad game design, and what the community mostly consumes. We engage with these games and take notes on graphics, accessibility features, user interface (UI) designs, game mechanics, soundtracks, and overall presentation and aesthetic. What did we like and what would we have preferred?

Stay updated on game design development tips from industry heads

There are people who have been doing it much longer than we have, and a number of them are setting industry standards. We can learn a thing or two in how they handle a problem and find solutions.

E. Marketing

Methods for optimizing outreach and return of investment.

Social media strategies for engaging and involving our audience.

We’ve laid the groundwork for character accounts on social media to launch as a way for our audience to interact with characters from our game. While role-playing is a fun marketing and meta world-building device, we’re exploring other cool avenues like exploitable images and audience challenges to drum up future participation.

Types of advertising and promotional materials.

There may come a time when word-of-mouth may not be enough. Would we consider purchasing ad space on different sites for greater visibility, or spend money on “promoting” features on social media? Would we commission or create and sell promotional merchandising for our audience?

Crowdfunding platforms and prospects.

Popular ones like Patreon, Kickstarter, and Indiegogo all have their draws and their drawbacks for creators and supporters alike. For what expenses would we crowdfund? What additional rewards would we provide for the financial support, if any? Do we want financial support for our project, or continual financial support as a company creating content? Some developers don’t actually use these platforms to request funding, but as another way of advertising their game. Would we do that?

Cross-exposure with other devs.

Interviews, public events, and collaborations with other game developers is a win-win situation with everyone involved. We want to be able to not just network, but allow each other to introduce our products and skills to a greater audience, creating and sharing a unique, dedicated fanbase in the overlap.

The Takeaway

At the time of this post, we’re still in the production phase, so some of this information isn’t applicable right now, but no knowledge is wasted: these things will always be handy to know and consider for later. We’re making our decisions in lieu of—and even despite some of—our research, in order to create a game that we’ll love and hope others will too. It’s important that as a game developer, you too keep yourself informed!

Speaking of ongoing research, Western otome is a largely indie market with many small, tenacious teams and hardly any corporate studios. If you are a Western otome developer, please contact us! We’d love to interview you in a Q&A, get your input on your process, and feature your story on our blog!

#devjournal #gamedev #game development #indie otome #indie game #theprocess #process #visual novel #journal #otome #otome game #diary #indiedev #personal #team management #story development #character development

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hub-pub-bub · 5 years

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I pride myself on creating interesting titles for my articles and blogs. Who could ignore, “Does This Script Make Me Look Fat?“, “S-e-x Tips For Screenwriters,” or “Are You Writing With Beer Goggles On?”

The title is essentially the logline of the column, and I want mine to intrigue you into reading more.

My choice this month is as deliberately colorless as I could muster to make a point. I’ve been reading a lot of dry, dull, and flat dialogue of late.

This is a cautionary tale on how “not good” dialogue can

drag

your

entire

script

down.

Even when you have an exciting and compelling concept and a solid story.

No matter what the genre, bad dialogue flattens the story by undermining the tone. Visceral moments built around dull dialogue, whether they are shocking scares, heart-racing action sequences, thigh-slapping comic moments, or tear-inducing dramas, are akin to a slammed oven door on a rising soufflé. Deflated and disappointing.

Dialogue: Art or Craft?

Before I began this article, I had to think about whether dialogue is a screenwriting skill that can be taught, practiced, and mastered, or whether it is an art. I’ve been fortunate to work with some truly talented writers who had “an ear for dialogue.”

My ultimate decision is that while you can get better at it, like a craft, for the top writers of dialogue – although they work hard at making it outstanding – it is an art. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t learn something from them and use it to grow.

Writers known for their dialogue actively listen. They pay attention to voices, they eavesdrop, they recall patterns, phrases, distinctions, inflections. But great dialogue is not transcribing. It is learning about howpeople talk in the real world and then distilling it into something better that reflects real life rather than imitates it. We’re telling stories, not making documentaries.

Great writers take the everyday and elevate it. Because, in fact, how we talk in “real life” can be wordy, meandering, and damn boring. In a script we are looking for powerful and succinct expression of thoughts and feelings.

Writers known for great dialogue write in voices that they know. Voices that they can hear in their heads, whether it is “smart,” or “Southern,” or “smarmy.” I have had more than one marvelous writer of dialogue tell me that they get to the point where the characters are speaking to them in their heads. Congratulations, you are probably in the only profession where “hearing voices” doesn’t guarantee you will get carted away to the crazy house.

Writers known for great dialogue understand that dialogue must serve a purpose. It must advance the story, reveal character, support the tone, and compliment the pace of the scene.

Writers known for great dialogue know that less is more. Great dialogue is often characterized as “lean.” They avoid lengthy talky scenes, long, uninterrupted monologues, and they leave space for subtext – that which goes unspoken can have the greatest impact.

Writers known for great dialogue know that it has to woo the reader on the page and sound authentic when spoken. Read your work aloud. Have it read. Tape it and play it back. If it “sounds like dialogue,” start rewriting.

Writers known for great dialogue still agonize over every word. Because they want the characters’ intentions to shine through, their personalities to come across, and the nuances of their inflections to be clear to the reader.

In the industry, writers known for great dialogue often come from theatre. Yes, I’m talking about Aaron Sorkin, Alan Ball, and many others. Because on a page of a play there is almost no description. What is there is minimalist. Playwrights learn to tell their entire stories and reveal their characters through dialogue. They are forced to get darn good at it. Might be a good exercise to practice by writing a scene or a short piece that is almost 100% dialogue.

On the other hand, the more I’ve thought about dialogue, the clearer it is to me that dialogue is inextricably interwoven with description. I found that you simply can not talk about one without referencing the other. As you master how to write a screenplay, it becomes clear that the interaction between dialogue and description is like a carefully choreographed dance. A tango that would not be complete without both partners, moving seamlessly together, supporting and elevating each other. That’s where you make the leap from craft to art.

Killer Dialogue

In striving to write dialogue that enlivens your story rather than killing it dead, these are the top crimes to avoid:

Expositional Dialogue: Dialogue that struggles to convey fundamental information to the audience can be deadly dull. In decades past, we might have seen newspaper headlines on the screen. Now we’re often subjected to lengthy (and incredibly conveniently timed) TV news broadcasts that spells out the facts and background. This may be efficient, but it feels like a cheap writing short cut and is inherently dry.

Voice over narration can be useful, but only if there is no other way to show us rather than tell us. This device is best used sparingly and artfully, as an integrated element of the story that reflects the tone.

There should be a rhyme and reason to narration in a script. It should be consistent with the story. Its usage might be heavier in Act One to establish the narrator and their point of view. Sparingly in the second half of Act Two, as the pace and stakes increase. Then wrap up and underscore the theme, provide resolution and add resonance in Act Three.

A large clump of narration in one juncture of the story stands out. It slows the pace and can feel like a crutch for conveying information. The best exposition comes from many sources. Showing is more powerful that telling. We can glean information from vividly described settings. We can see character’s appearance, behavior, actions, body language, and expression in description.

Lean dialogue supports other expositional tools, and description can add subtext that speaks volumes.

OTN Dialogue: Industry shorthand for “on the nose” is far from complimentary. This is dialogue that is literal in conveying what the characters think and feel. I am scared. I am happy. I am hungry. It is stiff and unnatural. Characters who speak in simple declaratory sentences reflect what the writer wants us to know. More skillful dialogue comes from the character and is supported by description.

Doubling Up Dialogue: Dialogue that repeats what we have just learned in description is redundant. Don’t tell us what we already know. It drags down your script and slows the pace of a scene. Be confident that we’ll get it.

Description: Jack acts nervous, worrying about the plans for the big heist. Jack dialogue: “I am very nervous that you are not going to be able to pull this heist off.”

Versus:

Description: Jack paces restlessly, taking a few steps in one direction, then reversing. Jack dialogue: “Tell me you have your shit together.”

The second version is shorter, more visual and more visceral.

Showboat Dialogue: Few things rankle readers more than recherché or Delphic dialogue. While you and I may have an SAT-worthy vocabulary, imagine the frustration of being unable to comprehend a sentence. Or maybe you don’t have to imagine if you were unaware that recherché means rare or exotic and Delphic is deliberately obscure or ambiguous.

The purpose of dialogue – and I see this blunder in description too – is not to show us that you are smart. It is to communicate clearly. I shouldn’t need a dictionary just to grasp a sentence. And if your reader does, then you are throwing off the reading experience, putting a stumbling block in their path when your aim should be for the words to flow in smooth, comprehensible sentences. Your script should communicate clearly to any and all readers.

Dialogue and description that includes obscure literary or musical references may have meaning to you, but unless it is recognizable to your reader, it’s a fail.

Yes, if your character is a brainiac, they might have a great vocabulary. But baffling your reader, even in a story about rocket scientists, should be rare and serve a purpose. Unless it is reflecting a specific character trait, strive for clarity.

The Worst Dialogue Sin: Thou Shalt Not Write Dialogue That Fails To Reflect The Tone. The quickest path to dialogue that makes a script dead on arrival is a failure to reflect the tone – not merely the genre – tone is far more specific. Family comedy, broad comedy, raunchy comedy, dark comedy, and dramedy are just some of the many tonal variations in the catch-all genre of “comedy.”

While your comedy doesn’t require a joke in every sentence, keep your dialogue in line with the tone of the story and of the scene. We think of action dialogue as terse, while character-driven stories are expected to have more dialogue that reflects and reveals character and arc.

Dialogue should also match the pacing of the story and the scene. As conflict escalates, especially in the second half of your script, dialogue should also be tight and brisk to match the pace.

Another cause of flat dialogue is the “repressed” hero. I’ve found that main characters whose core issue involves suppressing their feelings, leads to dryer, clipped dialogue. Fair enough as a character trait, but this often infects the entire script, keeping everything from falling short of being visceral. And in truth, the repressed character should be simmering beneath the surface, with inner conflicts conveyed in description and supported by subtext.

Think of the voice of the story – its unique tone – coming through in every sentence – from description to dialogue.

Praiseworthy Dialogue

How do industry pros describe great dialogue?

Lean, fluent, distinctive to characters, authentic sounding, and enhancing the tone…

All forms of high praise for dialogue.

Here are some ways to earn those accolades:

In N’ Out Dialogue: Sharply written scenes get in late and get out early. No wasted time on greetings and exits. In N’ Out hones in the on the purpose of the scene. Effective scenes both advance the story and reveal character arc.

Jack, John, Jake and Joey Walk Into A Bar: I know that some people go crazy when I imply that professional readers don’t read every single word of your script – but it’s because we shouldn’t have to. We should be able to stop reading character’s names after Act One because their voices are distinctive. It’s more challenging in an ensemble where the characters are highly homogenous, but that makes it all the more important. And a visual difference in the characters’ names makes it even easier for our brains to process, which makes your script flow.

Totes Dated Dude: Strong dialogue reflects the time period and is age appropriate.

Writing for teens can be tough, but the best dialogue avoids the clichés. By the time we read them, they’re already dated. Think of Clueless, written and directed by Amy Heckerling, who was lauded for her teen dialogue. What made it so impressive and appealing was that it was invented, a reflection of teen talk and a step ahead, rather than copying current trends. What is on fleek today is totes dated tomorrow.

On the flip side, period dialogue that is sprinkled with contemporary phrases shows a lack of research and an inattention to detail.

A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words: I read a wonderful article recently (which I would link to here if I could find it!) that showed a page long scene between an arguing man and woman, and then cut the dialogue in half, and in half again, and finally down to just a couple of lines. The more they cut, the more dynamic the scene became. Less words meant more room for subtext conveyed in description. It upped the emotion of the scene with what we saw the characters do rather than what they said. With each cut, the scene became more intense emotionally.

The real power in dialogue is often is what goes unsaid. Less truly is more. And action does speak louder than words. Subtext – conveyed by a character’s expression, gesture, or glance – intensifies the spoken word and underscores the meaning of the moment.

Button Up: Effective scenes have a clear high point and then cut to the next scene. Time and again, writers give us the line with the most impact, whether it’s a comedic punch line, peak conflict, or a big reveal, yet diminish the resonance off the moment by adding a few more lines after. Know the scene’s button and cut out on that for maximum effect.

The Last Word On Dialogue

Great dialogue has a rhythm and flow that becomes the heartbeat of the story. It mirrors the structure of the script. Initially setting the tone, revealing character, and conveying exposition, it goes on to accelerate as the conflicts escalate. It supports the scene in tone and pace. It becomes a vibrant element of the story, working in harmony with description to elevate the entire script.