#{ this thread is gonna heck me up I can feel it in my bones }

[itsyourstarboy]

Freebound

(Redacted Audio fanfic—1247 words)

Summary: Its the moonbound solstice, and Freelancer is freebound. Watch them cause chaos, on accident and on purpose.

Read here on Ao3

—

I.

The sunlight streamed through the curtains above the bed, cascading a golden glow across the room. Gavin, still dazed with sleep, stretched out an arm to pull his deviant close. His outstretched hand met cold sheets, and his brow furrowed as he felt around, cracking an eye open in confusion.

“Deviant?” He softly called.

When he was met with silence, he got up. It wasn’t like them to leave him in bed all alone. Quickly finding his pants that were discarded the night before, he exited their bedroom. Where were they?

As he neared the kitchen, he picked up on their aura. It was bouncing off the walls, feeling strong one minute, and practically nonexistent the next.

“Deviant?” He softly called, again.

They turned to him, a small smile on their face, “g’mornin’.”

The kitchen was… well, it wasn’t a mess, per say. It was… different.

“What are you doing in here, love?” Gavin asked.

“I’m rearranging the cabinets.”

“At 7am?”

Freelancer stared at him for a moment, “yeah.”

Gavin suppressed a chuckle, “may I ask why?”

“Well, I woke up this morning and I felt like I had bees in my bones, so I went to the grocery store down the street to buy six pounds of butter. Then when I got home, I accidentally set the couch on fire. Went shopping for one online, but I think I ordered 20.”

Gavin was speechless. “H-how long have you been awake?”

“1:14 am,” they laughed out in a sigh. They looked so tired.

“When you told me the solstices were often… interesting for you, this is not what I expected.”

“There is never a way to predict what may happen, I am a slave to my core for the remainder of this solstice. I think I just caused the large oak tree outside to become an even larger oak tree.”

At that, the ground shook, and Gavin’s eyes went wide.

“How about we go back to bed for a bit?”

II.

Lasko was doing paperwork on his coffee table. Nothing too strenuous—he was sunbound after all—just some stuff to keep him occupied while he felt like a dry apple slice.

Freelancer walked in the door, “hey, Lasko-babe.”

“Wh- oh. Hi, Freelancer. What are you doing here? And why didn’t you knock? N-not that I’m upset you're here, I mean, I-I’m always happy to see you, it’s just that you’re not exactly the type to just invite yourself into someone’s apartment… At least- at least I think you're n-not… are you?”

They sighed with a tired smile, “yeah I know, m’sorry. I would’ve knocked, but it’s too… too much. Too noise. M- no- that’s not… words.”

Lasko stood as his friend swayed on their feet, “are- are you f-feeling? Alright? Pft- no, what am I saying? Of course you’re not, it’s the solstice. Com- come sit down, how did you even get here, anyway?”

“Mmm,” Freelancer hummed as Lasko forced them to sit on the couch. They immediately sunk into the cushions, “I was feeling up, an’ I wanted to come hang out with you, but halfway here I felt not-up.”

“Not-up?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean- I guess that makes sense? Y-you are a freelancer, so you’re going to feel all kinds of… ‘ups’ and downs. M- Magically, anyway.”

“M’yeah, my magic has been ups and downs,” they mumbled, leaning into Lasko as he sat next to them. “I used psychokinesis to launch my phone into orbit.”

III.

Huxley was laying on his side, his head propped up on his arm, and his fingers threading through Damien’s hair. He was happy taking care of him like this. Right here, in this moment, with his boyfriend curled up next to him.

There was a knock at the front door.

“Are you gonna get that?” Damien mumbled when Huxley made no attempt at getting up.

“No,” he sighed contentedly, “whoever it is can just come back later.”

It would turn out that Huxley wouldn’t need to get the door, as whoever had knocked opened it for themself.

“The heck…?” Huxley said, sitting up slightly.

A familiar voice rang through the house, “Huuuuux? Damiiii?”

The two boys sighed in relief, glad that the home intruder was just Freelancer. Sweet, innocent Freelancer-

“Are either of you here? I think I drained the town's water supply.”

Huxley immediately sat up, telling Dames that he would be right back. The fire elemental could only let out an affirmative hum in response as he tiredly laughed at the freelancer's antics.

Entering the front room, Huxley found Freelancer hovering by a window.

“Freelancer? Dude- why are you all wet??”

They turned to him, panting heavily, “I was walking here from Damien’s place, and the Dahlia Spring decided to start chasing me, so I started running, but that made the water faster, so I jumped into your neighbor's pool to escape.”

Huxley slowly approached the window, “holy shi- Freelancer, the entire street is flooded!”

“I knowww,” they whined, “I’m sorry. I would clean it up but I’m afraid I’ll level the entire neighborhood.”

“Okay, well… let- lets just get you dried off,” Hux said, taking Freelancer’s hand to lead them to the bathroom.

“Wait, wait,” they pulled away, “is Damien here?”

“Uh- yeah, he’s resting in the bedroom.”

Freelancer made their way to the room and peeked their head through the doorway to see Damien all bundled up, “oh god that’s adorable. Is he wearing your sweatshirt??”

“Shut up,” Damien groaned, his voice all muffled from the blankets. “Why are you here?”

Huxley appeared next to them with a towel, “jeez, dude. You’re freezing.”

“It’s the solstice,” Freelancer answered, stubbornly trying to push Huxley’s hands away as he desperately tried to dry them off. “I remembered that you’re sunbound, so I was like ‘Fireboy must be feeling like shit right now, and I, too, feel like shit,’ so here I am, to feel like shit with you.”

Freelancer paused, hissing in disapproval, as Huxley ruffled their hair dry.

“I went to your place first, though. Let myself in. I cleaned everything.”

Damien sat up a little, propping himself against the pillows, “you… cleaned everything?”

“Yeah,” they wavered, leaning against the wall, “and then I remembered I was looking for you, so- oh god-” they keeled over, “I’m gonna throw up-”

Before either of the boys could react, Freelancer had run to the bathroom.

IV.

Damien’s phone buzzed with notifications from the group chat.

Gavin: does anyone happen to know where the freelancer is? I swear I left them alone for five minutes

Lasko: yeah don’t worry they’re here at my place

Lasko: they randomly showed up and eventually passed out on the couch

Lasko: sorry I would have told you but I was doing paperwork

Gavin: it’s alright as long as they’re safe

Damien: Lasko, I think you should check your couch.

Lasko: what?

Lasko: why?

Damien: Just do it.

Lasko: um…

Gavin: ???

Lasko: I’m so sorry

Lasko: they’re not there

Lasko: I lost them

Gavin: how did you lose them!?!?

Lasko: how did you???

Damien: Calm down, they’re here at Hux’s place.

Damien: They showed up a couple minutes ago.

Damien: They’re puking in the toilet.

Gavin: oh thank god

Huxley returned to the room, a sleeping Freelancer in his arms, “Dames, they tried to escape through the window, and when they couldn’t they said, ‘I’m going to stop existing now,’ and passed out.”

Damien looked back at his phone.

Damien: Please come get them.

—

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Breaking Routine

Day Seven: Ice Skating

Part of @panicfob​ 25 Days of Christmas Challenge

Warnings: Angst

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes X Reader (First Person, Nameless) ; Sam Wilson x Reader(platonic)

 Word Count: 2171

A/N:  The beginning of this series can be found on my Masterlist if you’ve missed any of this.

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It had been a long, hard quiet day. I woke up with the worst hangover I’d had since freshman year of college, although I was at a loss for which was worse, my alcohol hangover or the emotional turmoil, I was feeling. The day had been full of things that were amiss, I woke up later than normal, so Bucky had come and gone by the time I made breakfast. I had tried to go for a run but lacked any motivation, I even tried a few rounds with the heavy bag and couldn’t stay focused on it. Most of the day had passed even into the evening and I was yet to see Bucky and believe me, I had looked everywhere.

I was beginning to think that game night was a bad idea or at least the alcohol part of it. I had practically thrown myself at Bucky and haven’t seen him since. I thought we were fine afterward, at least I was fine. I understood his thought process and I respected his decision even when every fiber of my being wanted to fight him. 

After eating dinner, I realized pacing the house wasn’t getting me anywhere and I had already done all the laundry and dishes I could find. So, I found myself on the couch in the theater room watching ice skating. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted from being so inside my own head. I wasn’t sure how long I had been there before Sam moseyed in. 

“You look miserable,” Sam said plopping into the chair next to the couch.

“Gee, thanks,” I replied not pulling my eyes from the tv.

“Maria says hello.”

I frowned, I hadn’t seen Maria in weeks, I didn’t even know she was back in town. She calls most if not all of the missions still. “You got to see her?”

“She got back into town last night, she’ll be here for a few weeks.” 

“Hope I’ll get to see her,” I said looking at him.

“You will, she’s gonna be at the Stark Christmas party thing, I get to be her plus one.” He grinned, “Guess Barnes is the only one not coming. That is unless you’re taking him.”

I shrugged. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“I just assumed with as cozy as you two have been lately, that it didn’t need to be talked about.” Sam pushed.

“Well, you shouldn’t assume Sam.” My tone came out harsher than I intended. “If things were so peachy between us maybe he wouldn’t have vanished the entire day after I practically threw myself at him.” 

“Whoa,” He sighed. “That wasn’t the response I was expecting.”

Grabbing the pillow next to me, I fiddled with the threaded design. Fidgeting had always been my give away for anxiety, ever since I was a little girl. I hadn’t intended to tell Sam any of this, it really wasn’t any of his business.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked.

I shrugged, “Not much to say. We were all drunk, I asked him to stay with me and he told me no. He went to bed and I haven’t seen him since.”

“That’s it he just said no?” 

“Well not technically, he gave me a noble speech about how he refused to stay with me if alcohol was involved in my decision making.” I rolled my eyes. “Sometimes his old-fashioned personality can be really frustrating.” 

“Dude’s got some morals though. And as much as it pains me to defend him, there’s not a whole heck of a lot of those he can hold onto still. Mind control kind of robs you of a lot of those.”

I was shocked at Sam’s defense of Bucky; he had incredibly valid points, but this was progress for them. “That’s the things Sam, I’m not even mad at him for it.” I sighed realizing things for myself for the first time today. “I’m mad at myself for doing it, to begin with, it wasn’t the right time and I knew that I just didn’t want to be apart from him. The thing that upsets me the most is that he’s been gone for god only knows how long and I haven’t heard from him.”

“He left around nine-thirty this morning,” Sam stated,

I looked at him confused.

“We interacted over coffee this morning.”

“You interacted? Like you had a conversation?” I laughed.

“Not sure I’d call it that,” He shrugged. “He grumbled about him being an idiot and an asshole, which I naturally agreed with.”

“Sam,” I chided 

“I didn’t know what was going on.” He urged, “If I did, I probably would have just sent him back upstairs to fix it.” 

“Do you know where he went?” 

“He didn’t say specifically, just that he was going to see a friend.”

“Ugh,” I threw the pillow in my face.

“That was a bit dramatic.”

“Shush. I’ve been stewing all day.” 

“What are you watching anyway?” Sam asked looking at the tv.

“Figure skating.” 

“Never understood the point of it, ice rinks are for hockey, not dance parties.”

I laughed, “Those girls are more athletic than you are.”

“How do you figure?”

We went back and forth bickering about pointless facts about ice skating in general. I had always knowns I was too clumsy to ever put myself on ice, but that didn’t stop me from watching it every winter that I could. We agreed that each use of an ice rink required specific skills that neither of us possessed. Eventually, he decided it was time for him to find food and get a workout in.

“Also, before I forget, Morgan and Peter are coming over tomorrow to build Gingerbread houses.” 

“Morgan can stay, the other kid’s gotta go.”

“You can’t hate him for webbing you forever. Will you turn the light off?” I called out as he got to the doorway. 

“It’s bad for your eyesight,” He replied, turning the light out anyways.

I wasn’t sure I cared about my eyesight at the moment, instead, I snuggled further into the couch pulling the blanket off the back; I stretched out with my head on one of the armrests. Focusing on the screen I tried to clear my mind and just focus on the tv, watching their beautiful rhythm, the smooth glides broke up by intense twists and jumps. It was mesmerizing really. I’m not sure how long I stayed that way, but it must have been a while.

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky said from the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“It’s a public space,” I stated,

He didn’t respond, instead, he came to sit on the couch. Carefully lifting my legs so they laid across his lap with the blanket. We had sat this way every night to watch the news lately, it was comfortable, but it felt wrong with my current mood. Neither of us spoke through the next routine, but it wasn’t the comfortable silence I was used to. It was thick with unspoken tension and unheard emotions.

“I’ve always had an irrational fear that I would fall and get my wrist sheared off by the blade of a skate,” Bucky confessed breaking the silence.

I looked him a little confused at first, “Always, like since you were a little kid?”

He nodded, “Even Steve would go ice skating; granted he usually broke or bruised something. But I was always content to sit on the side and watch. Did you ever skate growing up?” He asked.

I shook my head, “The town I grew up didn’t have any kind of ice rink and the nearest city that did was about two hours away. Even if it did, I don’t think I’d ever try. I’m too clumsy, I’d be afraid of falling.”

“Isn’t it funny how we let the fear of falling keep us from doing things we think we’d enjoy.” Bucky mused. 

He spoke so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it. I sat hesitantly wanting to speak, there were a hundred topics on the tip of my tongue, where had he been all day, did he leave because he couldn’t face me, was he okay? I wanted to apologize for my actions the night before, but then I wondered did they really require an apology, me vocalizing something that I wanted. 

I was beginning to feel like our relations the last few days was like a figure skating routine, long smooth glides, the steady build of our friendship, the first twist with the cookies, the curving glides with the tree and stitches episode and that first jump on the sleigh ride. Routines end, sometimes they end poorly with the skater crashing to the ground, other times they end with a beautiful bow.

“Can I turn this off so we can talk for a few minutes?” Bucky asked. 

This didn’t sound good.

“Sure, you’ll want to turn on the lamp behind you.”

He reached behind him flipping on the light and quickly powered the tv off. Turning ever so slightly, my legs still across his lap but his body facing me almost head-on now. The serious expression on his face was impossible to read.

“I owe you an apology,” He started.

“No, you don’t.” I interrupted. “I owe you one.”

Bucky sighed, “Please, let me.”

I nodded, agreeing to shut up so he could speak.

“I let my fear of falling stop me last night. There were so many different, better ways that I could have handled that last night. Neither of us wanted to be alone, I knew that’s what it was. We don’t have to sleep together to sleep together.” I smiled at the way he emphasized the first sleep. “I should have been more open and talked about it. I need to be honest with you, completely honest.”

“You haven’t shared a bed with anyone in eighty years?” I joked.

“Har, har.” He pretended to laugh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.”

He reached out to grab my hand. “This terrifies me.” He confessed. “I don’t know how to do this; I barely knew how to do it in the ’40s. Last night after I went to bed and I heard your door close I got back up. I stood outside your room for a while, long enough to hear the crying. It killed me, I promised you back on the sleigh that I’d never break your heart and that’s exactly what I did last night.”

“Buck,” I sighed. “You did not break my heart. I was upset, but I was also drunk and overly emotional. I should have been clearer; I was asking you to stay the night with me not jump my bones.”

Bucky laughed, “What?”

I blushed, “You don’t know what jumping someone’s bones means?”

“Can’t say that I do, doll.”

“Well, it means to have sex.” 

“Oh,” He laughed.

“Let me be perfectly honest. You never have to apologize for having morals and not wanting to cross a line at a certain point. I know that there are some things I am more comfortable with than you might be. We grew up in different time periods. There’s nothing wrong with that.” I scooted down the couch to be closer to him, “I don’t want you to be afraid to say no to something because you’re afraid you’ll upset me.”

He nodded,

“You know the thing that upset me the most wasn’t even what happened last night. It sounds stupid, but I missed you at breakfast and everywhere I went in the compound today, you weren’t there. I didn’t know where you were.”

He smiled at me weakly, “You could have called or text. I was just in the city.”  

I looked down at where our fingers were intertwined, “I thought you were avoiding me.” 

“I was trying to give you space because I thought you were upset with me.”

“We really suck at thinking we know how each other is feeling.” I chuckled.

Bucky lifted my chin with his metal finger, “I’m not the best at saying how I feel sometimes.”  

He leaned forward pressing his lips to my forehead. When he pulled back, I looked up at his stormy blue eyes pulling me in like gravity. In one fluid motion, I closed the distance between us again pressing my lips to his. It was a sweet and gentle kiss, unspoken words of forgiveness and love shared. When we finally broke the kiss, I leaned my head in the crook of his neck trying to catch my breath. 

“I think that’s better than my stumbling over words.” Bucky laughed quietly.

“I don’t know, I like your words,” I replied pulling back to look at him again.

“You’re biased,” He kissed me chastely.

“I could get used to that.” I smiled.

He kissed my lips again, then forehead, the tip of my nose, before coming back and finding my lips once again. 

If this was our figure skating routine for the day, I’ll take it as a smooth gliding victory. 

[wongxiexie]

Lies and truths

Pairing: Kim Jongdae (Chen) x Reader (ft. EXO members) Genre: Angst, Vampire!AU Word Count: 2.538 words Warnings: Mentions of cheating, Mentions of sexual situations Note: The photo’s from Chen’s website.

“You’re lying.”

It’s a pleasant night, you guess, what with the stars in full view from the suite you are in, the floor-to-ceiling windows providing you the opportunity to bask in the twinkling lights of the dead stars overhead.

Crossing your leg over the other, you reach for your glass of red wine. ‘Pfft,’ you think. Well, it won’t hurt to dream, right? It won’t do anyone any harm if you pretend that the red liquid sloshing in your wineglass is anything but what it really is.

The texture is entirely different, sure, but maybe the taste is the same? You’ll never know for sure. How will you when the aged fruit juice tastes godawful? Or maybe that’s just you? You guess your other friends  won’t appreciate your drink choices too, so checkmate, but you beg to differ. After all, AB negative is the absolute best thirst quencher ever. No questions asked.

Still staring outside, you down the contents of your glass.

“You’re lying,” he repeats breathlessly, trying to convince both you and himself that what you just said isn’t true.

“My god,” you drag out. “I heard you the first time, you know. And I’m sure you heard me the first time, too, or are we playing the ‘repeat everything I say’ game?”

The chuckle you release is met with an unblinking Jongdae.

“But--,” he whispers, having a hard time speaking with a sob threatening to fight its way out of him. “You wouldn’t,” he says quietly, his voice tainted with betrayal and disbelief, but his eyes…

If you are to describe his eyes, the eyes you love so much, they shine with nothing but hurt.

You meet his stare head on.

“What do you mean I wouldn’t?” you raise a brow and smirk at him. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”

The first drop of tears escapes his eyes and his face is settled into an unbelieving frown. His lips are downturned and his breathing is getting heavier, showing clear as day how hard he’s trying to stop himself from crying.

Leaning forward, you place your elbow on the table and rest your chin on the palm of your hand. With your smirk still in place, you continue.

“Did you really think you could satisfy me? Funny story actually, it’s different with a vampire and a measly human, you know?” At that, you point a finger at him. “I always have to hold back when I’m with you, gotta be careful with your bones. After all, wouldn’t wanna leave you broken on my bed.”

You bark out a laugh, even putting a hand over your mouth to hide your chuckles.

“But with Minseok and Baekhyun, oh boy,” you let a dreamy sigh escape your lips, followed by a smile. “We often invite Chanyeol and Jongin too, whoever’s down for a good fuck. Totally different with you and your goddamn monogamy philosophy and that ‘let’s get married someday’ bullshit you always keep on spouting. Anyway, I’m done playing with you.”

The smile that’s still on your face causes Jongdae’s vision to blur from the tears and soon after, he’s sobbing openly in front of you. You stand up, turn around and take a few steps towards the door, ready to leave the room.

You perfectly know you are breaking him, the cruel remarks that come out of your mouth are so much like sharp knives on his soft skin and flesh.

His chair scrapes the floor and the next thing you know, his arms are around you. Jongdae embraces you as he rests his forehead on your back, pleading to you amidst his tears.

“I’m sorry if I’m not good enough, I’m sorry!” he sobs against your skin. “But please don’t leave me, I love you!”

Steeling yourself, you do your best to not give in.

“I don’t care if you have to be with someone else, just please, don’t leave me,” he cries harder and holds you tightly, his body radiating warmth onto your perpetually cold skin.

You grab his arms and pry them easily off of you. Turning around, you flatten a palm against his chest to stop him from getting closer to you.

When you look at him, you’re almost rendered speechless at his state. Tears are streaming endlessly down his cheeks and broken sobs keep on coming from his mouth. The tears, the sobs, the pain and the heartbreak all look out of place on his gentle features, those horrors not having any place in a soul as pure as his.

“I had fun and it was amusing at first, but now it’s gotten boring,” you tell him blankly.

The sorrow is radiating off of him and the pain is apparent on his face, and you know right then that his cries will forever haunt your immortal existence.

“I can’t-- I don’t believe you…” his eyes beg you to tell him you love him, to say that you’re just lying. “You told me you wanted the same thing,” he says through his tears.

He’s still pleading with you and you almost give in, almost hug him just to give him any semblance of comfort to the best of your unworthy and pitiable capability. You almost embrace him just like how he used to hold you, all just so you could put an end to the agony that is hurting him, but you don’t.

“Yeah, I figured this crying thing was gonna happen,” you gesture towards him as if in disgust. “You know what? I’ll let you do whatever you humans do in times like this.”

You finally turn your back to him, afraid that he might see through you. “You better be gone by the time I come back.”

The door slams shut behind you, not once turning to face him again. Jongdae is on the floor, bawling his eyes out, his hands clenched over his heart as if parting with you physically pains him.

Breathing deeply, you run as fast as your vampiric abilities allow you, escaping the sound of Jongdae sobbing and he is almost out of earshot, but not before you hear him let out a broken whisper.

“I love you, [Y/N].”

——

The wind is blowing but you barely feel the cold. In fact, you barely feel anything at  all.

“Why did you lie to him?” a soft voice echoes beside you.

“Hello to you too, Baek,” you say as quietly, still staring at the late night city lights from your place on the rooftop of one of the highest buildings in the area.

“Really, though, why did you tell him those things, [Y/N]?” comes Jongin’s voice from your other side. If you’re in any other situation, you would have laughed at how sad your friends seem, almost sadder than you are if that’s even possible.

A second later, you hear the familiar footsteps of your clan, the clan you’ve come to treat as brothers in the long life you’ve lived with them.

You feel Junmyeon’s comforting hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly in his attempt to alleviate the pain they are sensing from you.

“I made a mistake,” you whisper to the wind. “I made a mistake when I tried to live a normal life. I was wrong…” looking up at the skies, you gulp harshly.

“I was selfish when I pretended to be a human just for the heck of it. I thought it was going to be fun… and temporary,” you look down at your hands only to find them shaking.

“But Jongdae,” you smile painfully. “Jongdae made me feel alive,” your voice breaks and the sobs and tears you’ve been holding back are released.

Minseok immediately engulfs you in his arms and rubs circles on your back. You bury your face on his shoulders and don’t even try to stop the tears from flowing.

“I thought he would get tired of me, Minseok,” you cry, “I thought humans were shallow-- that it would just be fun and games. I didn’t know it was going to be like this.”

“So why did you leave him?” Kyungsoo voices out softly. “Why did you choose to break him like that?”

You breathe deeply. “You know, Jongdae begged me not to leave him. He said he was sorry for not being enough for me.”

A sad and bitter smile forms on your lips. “He said that, but the truth is that I’m the one who’s not enough for him. I won’t be able to give him what he really wants.”

Gripping Minseok’s shirt, you let out the realities you’ve been trying to fool yourself into ignoring.

“The truth is that I’m not worthy of him. I can never make him happy and I had to hurt him so he wouldn’t hold on to me.”

Biting your lip, you let the tears cascade down your face. “I had to hurt him if so he could have a normal future…”

“Even if it means he would hate me.”

——

It had only been a year after you’ve been together, but you were fairly certain that you were already in love with him. You were sure the same goes with him, too, for you could sense it, but even without your abilities, Jongdae never once failed to make it known to you that you were important to him.

The two of you knew everything about each other, your likes, dislikes, preferences whatsoever, dreams and aspirations. Name it and you knew it. There’s just one teeny tiny bit of information that you “forgot” to tell him, nothing important really, just that… you were a vampire.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t as insignificant as you would have liked to believe, but even with all the negative possibilities hanging over your head, somehow you knew that Jongdae would accept you wholeheartedly.

With all your unbeating and useless heart, you knew that Jongdae would love you all the same, maybe even more because as he always said, “I love you even more and more with every new little thing I get to know about you.”

You could imagine it already, the two of you spending eternity together. You were positive he would say yes if you asked him to be like you. He didn’t have any family left and you can just alter the memories of his friends, it would all be so easy.

And he would survive the transformation process, no doubt about it. Your connection was so strong that you could almost feel the threads of it engulfing your entirety. He would pull through because he was strong.

As you lay there quietly in his arms, the two of you just contently basking in each other’s presence, you become giddy at the prospect of telling him. You absentmindedly chuckle at yourself -- a vampire, giddy? Funny, but it was true.

“Darling--”

“Angel--”

You laughed when you both spoke at the same time. Jongdae chuckled at you, finding your laugh adorable. “Okay, you go first, my thoughts can wait,” he gave you a tender smile when he spoke, looking into your eyes with so much love.

“No, you go first,” you said coyly. “Mine’s a big reveal so I should go last.”

Jongdae couldn’t resist so he placed a full kiss on your lips. When he leaned back, he gazed at you lovingly and told you what probably was his biggest wish ever.

“I know it’s only been a year and I don’t mean to freak you out or anything, but I just wanted to say I love you.”

You swore you almost felt warmth spread inside your chest at his admission, but before you could reply, he continued speaking.

“Maybe it’s too soon, but I just know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to marry you someday, [Y/N]. Maybe we can buy a house near the sea, or maybe one with a garden, or somewhere in the city if that’s more your style. I want to grow old with you, [Y/N]. I just want to be with you…”

You smiled at him.

“...with you and our kids,” he said as he sighed happily. “I could already imagine having a little you, or maybe two or three. I want to create a life with you because that’s how much I love you. I know I’ve never really known my family so I don’t really know how to be a father, but I do want to have a family of my own, of ours. I’m willing to try with you. I promise I would do my very best to raise our children. I would do my best to love them and not let them go through what I had to.”

He suddenly covered his face with his hands, embarrassed of his sappy thoughts. He chuckled and closed his eyes, still shy about what he said, which was why he failed to notice the shocked state you were in.

If you had a beating heart then it would have absolutely stopped the moment he uttered those words.

All your years, decades and centuries of being a vampire, never once did you find any flaw about yourself or your kind. In fact, you loved it and you found it very advantageous especially when compared to the vulnerable humans around you.

But that… 

His dream to have a family of his own...

It was one thing that you would never be able to give him for vampires do not and cannot bear children.

You forced yourself to let out a believable chuckle. He turned to you with his eyes still holding that tenderness that could melt you.

He hugged you closer to him on the bed and placed his hand on your stomach. “I can’t wait to start a family with you.”

The smile he gave you was so radiant, so blinding and so full of love.

“But enough about me. What did you want to tell me, angel?” he said, still with that ever present smile.

You almost stuttered but you caught yourself just in time. “I was going to say the same thing!”

You almost cringed at how forced it sounded, but Jongdae didn’t notice because of the happiness that spread through his body from your words. You embraced him so you could hide your face from him, choosing to cling closer to his body to get the comfort you wanted.

Placing a kiss on the top of your head, Jongdae whispered his feelings to you.

“I love you so much, [Y/N].”

You exhaled and let out a sad smile, still hidden from his warm eyes. “I love you, Dae.”

He was on cloud nine, but that day was the day when you realized the harsh reality surrounding the two of you.

Vampires and humans may coexist, but they do not mix.

The truth was that you and Jongdae could never be together and you would let him go if it meant he could live a normal and happy life where he could have the world because you believed he deserved everything. He deserved to live out his dreams…

Even if the only possible reality of those dreams did not have you in it.

[alliswell21]

Avengerlark, Assemble!

Here is my first try at this... I know it’s not my best, and it’s actually kinda short. This first one is dedicated to @dandeliononfire, since it’s her brain child. While I do have a backstory for K & P, If anyone is interested in more, please, by all means, send in a request/prompt and I’ll try to work with it.

Unbetaed.

Enjoy.

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Heads up!” A whole car wheezes by on my right, just as the shiny flash of metal zooms past me propelled by hand and feet jets.

“Hey!” I call out in aggravation and leap in the opposite direction, shooting strand after strand of web compound out of my wrists. The Kia is still descending straight to a store front, so I start weaving a sturdy web in front of the falling vehicle.

Then out of nowhere, a huge shadow looms on top of me. I only have time to look up and hug the nearest wall before She-hulk crashes on top of the flying car with a mighty roar, pancaking the frame to the concrete directly below.

I moan frustrated.

“In coming meteor!” A male voice snaps in my suit’s com.

I start running across the wall, slinging a web and leaping upwards.

“Where are you going, webs? Get the civilians in the ground!”

“There’s nobody down there!” I yell back. “I’ve looked and there isn’t anyone on the street!”

Iron Girl’s furious growl comes through the com.

“Guys, the sky is falling! Take cover!” Hawkeye calls out just as the first ball of fire descends.

“Smash!” She-hulk punches the fireball, pretty much the same way she did with the flying car, except this time, the object ping pongs against the ground and everything it touches catches on fire.

A second and third flaming rock hit earth. The computer sirens come up into everyone’s earpieces, “Warning, warning. Imminent failure.”

“Move it, move it, move it!” Screams the Iron girl jettisoning in between meteor fragments, blasting everything in her path, but the debris is falling to fast, too close. Unnatural in my opinion.

“Warning, Warning. Failure imminent.”

“Huge bogey approaching.”

“Warning, Warning—“

“Everyone, run for cover. We can’t fight a rock that sized!” I call out, navigating myself around the chaos.

“Prepare for impact, in three, two, one—“

A volley of arrows pierce the already deflated tires of the Kia She-hulk smashed a minute ago and the whole background glitches twice, before the blue lights of the training center flicker back to life all around us. A whirring sound coming from the vaulted ceiling signals the hologram machines shutting off for the day, and soon after, a chorus of tired, painful groans echo in the cavernous room.

Only the flattened car and a few other big objects, like a dumpster and a few light poles remain.

“Ugh! That was awful.” Says Gale Hawthorne, landing awkwardly in front of me. He scowls at his crossbow, pulling at the string like he’s afraid it got damaged with the few arrows he just shot into the useless rubber of the car.

Congratulations Hawkeye, you just killed an inanimate object. The thought comes into my mind unbidden, so I force my eyes elsewhere before the words escape my mouth. Too bad my eyes turn to the exact spot Iron Girl touches ground.

I’m not as quick averting my gaze this time.

“It wouldn’t have been as bad if everyone had been in position!” She bites, flicking both hands at the same time; the Iron suit opens up down the middle, panels of shiny gold and green armor recede and fold back until only the back of the suit stands, and Katniss Everdeen’s slim, strong, and perfectly sculpted right leg steps out of her encasing. The rest of her body follows, and I have to groan internally, because she’s wearing those biking shorts again, the ones that mold to her tight, little behind like a second skin and leaves nothing to my imagination. Her sports tank top doesn’t help either.

I tear my mask off before I suffocate panting like I just ran a marathon in it.

“Everyone was in position, Catnip. Even Johanna was in position for once!” Grunts Hawkeye.

“She-hulk did good!” Responds the big, green girl, otherwise known as Johanna Mason, the She-hulk.

“I built a net for that car!” I exclaim exasperated. “Do you guys know how much wasted web material that is? It takes three days to gather ingredients, make, and package one tiny vial of web! Can we not waste it?” I grumble.

“Spider-lad sad!” Says She-hulk mockingly.

“Spider-MAN, thank you very much, Johanna. And I’m not sad, I’m aggravated about the fact that perfectly good spiderweb went to waste.”

“She-hulk sleep hammock!” Jo gives a hulking chuckle before jumping on my beautiful net, like it's indeed a hammock.

Only, she gets stuck and starts roaring angrily, kicking her massive legs and punching the air with her humongous fists, until finally the threads give and she sags half a foot deeper, but it’s still suspended above the ground, cocooned in my net.

“Stop squirming!” Shouts Gale, aiming an arrow at my web and efficiently cutting Johanna out of the mess.

I groan again. It’s helpless.

“Enough!” Calls Katniss cracking her knuckles. “This exercise was a disaster! Nobody responded the way they were supposed to. The execution was sloppy and loose. We looked like a bunch of amateurs!” She snaps, “How can we defend Earth from threats if we can’t even manage a measly simulation?”

“The simulation was faulty.” I say, “There were no civilians in the ground, the meteor shower was coming in too tight and fast, not to mention too big a chunks of it. Plus the reaction to the one punch from Jo was totally wrong, it defied laws of physics.”

Her flaming gray eyes turn to look at me, there’s anger in her gaze when we lock eyes. “You weren’t in your spot! Why did you move?”

“Katniss, the buildings were holographic, in case you forgot. I situated myself as close to my mark as I could. I can’t magically cling to holograms, you know. And throwing that car my way in retaliation is not very heroic either. You’re lucky my spidy senses tingled a second before that Kia flew past me, Iron Kat, otherwise I’d be a windshield splatter. Your warning skills could use some improvement!” I respond in kind.

Katniss’ face flush with renewed anger. I can see her biting the inside of her lip as her scowl deepens. She’s formulating her comeback, but Gale beats her to it.

“Give it a rest, Catnip. The Web Slinger is right. We can’t always have a neat formation during practice. Is just not realistic. If an enemy attacks Earth, it won’t wait until we’re all set in our designated areas, camera ready. If you want to have a real fighting chance, you need to learn to plan on the fly.”

“Fine! If you’re so awesome at improvising, then you have point tomorrow! I’m going to shower before our call with Ms. Potts.” Katniss stalks out of the training center, and Gale and I stand there watching her perfect ass walk away from us.

At least, I am.

Gale’s her second cousin though, so I guess he wouldn’t be looking at her romp the same way I am; which embarrases me right away, because I’m supposed to be annoyed with her, in a professional matter, instead I’m admiring her retreating form like some kind of pervert.

“She-hulk hungry!” Says Johanna stepping between me and Gale, jogging after Katniss.

“Did you think Catnip noticed Jo’s not wearing a shirt?” Asks Gale staring at Johanna with both fascination and revulsion.

“Dunno. But I’m sure she will once she’s showing Pepper Potts the replay video of today’s exercise.”

“She’s gonna be mad.”

“She sure will.”

“I’m glad she’s your girl and not mine,” Gale gives me a glance out of the corner of his eye. “You deal with your angry bobcat of a girl.”

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling anxious. “Um… you know about us?” I cringe.

Gale rolls his eyes and steps away from me. “Peeta, she came down to breakfast two days ago wearing the top of the pajama set Effie Trinket gave you for Christmas… while you wore the bottoms.” He turned sideways to level me with a pointed look, then kept on walking away while speaking. “Neither of you are very slick, my man. I would warn you to keep your sticky limbs away from Katniss, but she’s been more cheery since you two started sneaking around. If this practice had happened two months ago, Miss Iron Maiden would’ve force us to repeat the simulation until everything fell the exact way she envisioned it.

“No, she’s definitely more laid back since jumping your arachnid bones. Heck! I even saw her smiling yesterday. You know the last time I saw her smile? It was a while ago. So, from fellow teammate to teammate, you keep her happy, Peeta Mellark, whatever it is you do in that cave of yours, keep her happy. And I’ll keep pretending I don’t know what you’re up to with my baby cousin.”

Gale disappears down the hallway, making me feel like a total idiot.

“I make her smile?” The thought makes me ridiculously happy. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m merrily swinging on my webs from wall to wall through Avengers tower to my room; a stupid smile splitting my face in two.

I make Iron Kat smile! F yeah, I’m the man!

[greatgreengremlin]

can you put your bag things bingo fills on tumblr? it would probably be easier for requesters to see and the mods to keep track of. and, i just want to reblog your fem!hance, cause that was cute.

Actually I meant to do that, I just forgot. Oops. 

Sure I can!

(VLD) Space: Anger Born of Worry

AO3

Something Lana will never tell anyone is that during their first meeting, Huihana scared the crap out of her. Only for the first thirty seconds or so, sure, but in those thirty seconds the fear was real. She took two steps into the room the Garrison assigned her, took one look at her roommate, and felt her blood turn to ice.

That chick was freaking huge. Biceps like boulders, fists like frozen turkeys. She could probably take Lana’s head off with one punch. Nervously, Lana gulped, trying to think of something suave to say, straining to shape her mouth into a confident smirk so this Amazonian stranger wouldn’t smell her fear. Then the giantess advanced and before Lana could escape, those brawny arms encircled her, deftly lifted her right off the floor…and pulled her into a hug.

“Mmph!” Lana found herself pressed up against the soft, plentiful pudge of her roommate’s round midsection, and her face smushed into the pillows of her even softer, coconut sized breasts.

“Nice to meet you, new roomie!” chirped a voice of pure sunshine.

She gave Lana a hearty squeeze and returned her to the floor.

“So I’m Huihana, most people call me Hana for short,” she paused, amusement squiggling over her features as she blinked at Lana’s name tag. “Guess that means we’re Hana and Lana, huh? Pfft, Hana and Lana. We could totally headline a sitcom.”

“Heh, yeah.” Lana gave a chuckle, feeling herself melt in relief.

“I’ll help you put away your stuff, but let’s eat the muffins first. They’re best while they’re still warm.”

“You made muffins?”

“Uh-huh.”

Hana showed her the small oven she’d hidden in the closet. It was about the size of one of those toy ones, but Lana could tell it was made of spare parts. The metals didn’t match and the screws were different sizes.

“Let me guess, you’re here to be an engineer.”

“Yep.” Hana smiled and pulled a small muffin pan out of her makeshift oven and if the tantalizing aroma of apple cinnamon was anything to go by, mismatched metal didn’t prevent it from working.

Lana took a muffin and shook her head. Hana was a freaking teddy bear. No hecking way could she ever scare Lana again.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Lana scolds, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hana rolls her eyes and keeps rolling the orange dough in front of her. “As if you always do what you’re supposed to do.”

“This isn’t about me!” Lana barks, still too shaken to keep herself from snapping. “You’re a mess, you can hardly stand up!”

Hana shoots her a look that might’ve been dangerous if she were actually standing steady. But she isn’t steady at all, she’s tottering like a butterfly could knock her over and Lana isn’t sure if it’s making her nervous or furious.

“What I am is sore and stressed, and not in the mood,” she warns irritably.

“Oh, you’re not in the mood?” Lana scoffs. “Don’t even. I’m the one who gets to be mad! You almost got yourself killed!”

“We almost get ourselves killed all the time,” Hana grumbles bitterly, flipping the dough and rolling some more.

“This was different! You know we’re supposed to be extra careful since the pods got hacked, but you ran back into a Galra infested tunnel for no reason!”

“No reason my ass, I was checking for civilians.” Hana pauses to wipe the sweat from her brow.

“Civilians who weren’t there!” Lana huffs, grasping at her hair in frustration. “BLIP tech told us the tunnel was clear!”

“And like I already explained to you and everybody else, the dust storms on that planet were interfering with our tech. Our comms were screwy, our scanners were screwy, we had no reason to trust in the BLIP tech!” Hana gives the dough an exasperated whack with the rolling pin and Lana can see the immediate regret in her eyes as the movement sends repercussions through her battered body. Recoiling, she hisses through her teeth.

“Damn it! Ugh, just come off it. I clearly did the right thing.”

“How? No one was down there!”“But someone could’ve been down there,” Hana insists hotly. “We couldn’t rely on the tech to tell us one way or the other, so I checked for myself. It’s what a paladin would do.”

Lana chews her lip. She understands where her friend is coming from, but she doesn’t have any forthcoming fuzzy feelings for her decision either. It was too reckless. Lana doesn’t like to see any of her team in danger, but this was the kind of stunt she would at least expect from Keith or Shiro. Not Hana. It was a stunt that blindsided her coming from cautious, nervous Huihana.

“You should have at least called one of us for backup.”

And what she means is, you should have called me for backup.

“I didn’t think I had enough time.” Hana gripes, maneuvering her way around the kitchen. “It’s over and done with, so just lay off.”

Lana feels the worst of her fury dying away, but she still isn’t happy. This was too much, too close a call. She can’t just swallow it with a smile and pretend she wasn’t terrified to her core. Not with the echoes of Hana’s scream still rattling around like vengeful wraiths inside her head.

“Oh crap…I’m bleeding,” Hana mutters, yanking Lana out of her thoughts.

The red stain spreads through her robe and Lana gasps, scrambling over.

“Don’t want to say I told you so, but this is exactly why you should be in bed,” she says tersely, hiking Hana’s arm over her shoulder.

Hana is still the bigger of the two, but Lana is tougher than she looks and more than strong enough to offer her support. Hana accepts it wearily, and Lana becomes increasingly worried when she fails to fire back some retort. Lana studies her more closely and frowns.

Drops of sweat sprinkle Hana’s face, headband practically drenched with it. The pain is naked in her eyes, glistening with the mist of unshed tears. Her jaw tightens, teeth clenching as she fails to bite back a whine.

“Come on,” Lana encourages. “Just a little farther.”

“A little?” Hana shoots her an exhausted look. “The med bay’s on the other side of the castle.”

“But your room is right around the corner, and Coran helped me stock it with all the right aftercare supplies while you were out being a bad patient.”

“I wasn’t trying to be a bad patient,” she mumbles. “Today just caught up with me and sitting still in silence wasn’t exactly doing wonders for my anxiety.”

“Yeah, well you bleeding through your clothes isn’t exactly doing wonders for my mental health, either,” Lana retorts.

Hana must be too spent to keep arguing because all she does is glower.

When they reach her bedroom, Lana parks her down on the bed and slides the robe off her shoulders. The bandages encasing her torso are soaked scarlet and it sends chills up Lana’s spine. Even so, she tries to keep herself together. She opens the impressive supply kit Coran prepared and paws through until she finds the sutures.

“So you’re gonna patch me up even though you’re pissed?”

“Of course I am, jerk face.”

Lana gets the packet of numbing gel and the scissors, kneels down, eye level with the wound. She snips through the layers of gauze and they fall loosely to the bed. A wide absorbent pad remains, taped over her side. It’s sodden with blood that smears onto Lana’s fingertips as she removes it as gently as possibly.

What lurks beneath is like something out of a slasher flick. Lana is a tad nervous about tending to it because it’s such a gruesome injury, but she doesn’t want to admit that aloud. The blast from the sentry’s gun shaved off a good hunk of flesh. The aperture of the wound is irritated where Coran had to trim away ruined skin. The layer of fat beneath the remaining skin peeks out a bit, bumpy and glazed in blood. The open meat in the middle is this sickening, moist, melon pink.

“Congratulations,” Lana offers sarcastically. “You managed to pop all of your stitches.”

Hana grimaces. “I don’t wanna know the graphic details.”

“No,” she agrees grimly. “You don’t.”

Lana pinches the tip of the scissors over the broken thread of the old stitches and carefully pulls them through. Hana’s fist clenches into the blankets, a tight look of discomfort twisting her features.

Some of Lana’s frustration ebbs.

“This is the worst part and it’s almost over, okay?”

Hana nods tensely.

Lana removes the long, thin thread and discards it. She opens the numbing gel and carefully spreads it along the in tact skin around the wound.

“I’m sorry, okay?” she says softly. “I know I shouldn’t be mad at you, you did what you felt was right—“

“You mean what was right,” Hana breaks in stubbornly.

“…I thought you died,” Lana admits somberly.

“What?” Hana’s jaw drops.

Lana purses her lips as she opens the suture set. “It was the way you screamed. You’re super jumpy, so I’ve heard you scream a thousand times before, but never like that. That scream chilled me to the bone, I could just hear the hurt in it…and then when we started screaming back for you to answer, you didn’t. We— I was begging you to answer me but all I got was radio silence.”

“I scared you,” Hana concludes quietly.

“Yeah.” Lana huffs, poking the needle into the flesh. Evidently the gel is doing its job, because her friend doesn’t even flinch. “Scared me more than anything else ever has. You’re in front of me right now in one piece, talking to me, and I’m still kinda shook up over it.”

“Aw, Lana…”

Lana sews quietly, occasionally glancing up to make sure Hana’s tolerating it okay. She’s fiddling with her fingers, gaze pointedly fixed on the wall.

“Look, I’m sorry. Not for what I did, but for scaring you.”

“I don’t really blame you,” Lana says, finishing off the stitches. “This is war, we get hurt. But can you at least be a good patient for the rest of the day?”

“I will if you stick around to distract me.”

“I’m supposed to let you rest,” Lana mutters, distracted as she fishes through the supplies.

Hana groans quietly and shakes her head. “I can’t. You don’t think I got scared too? It’s so quiet in here, all I can do is relive getting blasted. It’s freaking me out.”

She takes another absorbent pad and thick roll of gauze, wincing sympathetically. “Alright. I’ll stay. Maybe I can get Pidge to bring us a projector so we can watch a movie or something.”

Hana lets out a sigh of relief. Lana returns to her bedside and strips the sterile packaging off the pad. She plasters it over the freshly stitched wound and gingerly pats it down. Hana gives a wince and she stops short.

“Too rough?”

“Nah. The gel wore off, that’s all. It’s sore.”

“I’ll bet.” It’s a hell of a wound, after all. Wide, deep, and butt ugly.

Lana unwinds a length of gauze and makes an effort to be especially gentle as she bandages her, starting from the bottom and moving upward. She smooths out as many of the wrinkles as she can and tries to secure the gauze around Hana’s torso without pulling too tight.

“Alright, almost there. Just hold your tits.”

“Huh? I’m not rushing you.” Hana puzzles, brow furrowing.

“I meant literally, my busty bestie,” Lana chuckles. “They’re in the way.”

“My bad.” Grimacing, Hana sheepishly hefts them up and Lana wraps the last layer around. She finishes up with small adhesive strips to keep the bandage in place and gives it the slightest of tugs to make sure they’re effective.

“All done,” she says brightly, pulling back. “That should keep it clean and safe. Just try not to bump into anything and don’t abuse the rolling pin anymore.”

“Thanks. I’d hug you if I could.” Hana sighs and slides her arms back into the sleeves of her robe. She raises her shoulders to get it all the way on— at least, she attempts to. Pain crosses her face halfway through the motion and the fabric slides back down.

“And I can’t do that either.”

She tucks her head down like a grumpy turtle sulking in its shell. Lana wordlessly pulls the garment up for her.

“Gonna do everything for me?” Hana lifts a tired brow.

“If I have to,” Lana says, crossing her arms. “As long as you promise not to scare me like that again.”

“If it were a promise I could keep, I would,” she says wistfully.

They gaze at each other a moment, an understanding passed. Lana deflates and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, leaning forward to pull back Hana’s blanket.

“Go on, climb in.”

“Could’ve done that much myself,” Hana mutters, sounding more weary than offended.

Lana studies her as she draws herself up, stiffly braced back on her elbows. Pain speaks in every movement, from her legs’ halting stretch, to the low breath hissed between her teeth as she carefully reclines to the pillows. Lana lightly drapes the blanket over her.

“Lemme get you something for the pain—“ Lana turns to go and stops short as Hana’s hand encircles hers.

She tugs with surprising strength for somebody who looks two seconds away from passing out, and Lana’s eyes pop wide as she gracelessly flounders to the bed.

Lacing their fingers together, Hana gives her a tender look. “This is enough. I feel better already.”

“Liar,” Lana huffs, crinkling her nose.

“No, really. Holding hands has the potential to reduce pain. Several studies suggest it produces an analgesic effect.”

Lana pauses, studying her face for any trace of deceit. Normally having genius friends is pretty cool because they can explain complicated stuff to you and help you ace your homework. But sometimes genius friends can mess with you by rewording bullshit to sound all science-y and smart. One time Hana and Pidge nearly convinced her that the moon was indeed made of some form of petrified cheese.

“For real?”

“Yeah, for real,” Hana insists, smiling gently. “When we hold hands our brainwaves begin to synchronize. It’s like communicating empathy through touch and it makes people feel better.”

“Huh.” Lana looks down at their hands and squeezes Hana’s a little tighter.

With Hana’s hand in hers, solid and warm, Lana is beginning to feel better too.

[theoddcatlady]

Youth Potion

> Subject: ‘Husband Is A Cheating B******!!!’

Bella_Gardner I cannot BELIEVE my husband. We have been married for twenty years. That’s right. Twenty years. Twenty years of me keeping our home clean, taking care of our kids, and planning every anniversary date. I never complained. I was happy with our life, with what we had.

Apparently Robert wasn’t. I come home early because the gym was closed and I find him plowing into this twenty year old blonde hussy on our couch! Our couch! We picked that couch out after we got married! And he was fucking someone else on it!

Well I threw her ass outside, barely gave her enough time to get her clothes on before I turned my rage on my husband. He’s sleeping on the couch tonight. He’s lucky he’s not on the curb with her.

When did I stop being enough, ladies? I stepped on the scale last week and I’m up seven pounds. I blame the holiday overeating. We all do it. I’m saggy, I barely have the energy for sex anymore. Not like he’s been interested in it lately, and I think I can guess why. I feel lost.

Deanna_Osborne Reminder that harsh language isn’t acceptable on the forum, but I’ll absolutely let it slide this time. Pour yourself a glass of red wine and get a tub of ice cream, I’d come over if I wasn’t across the country. It’s going to be okay. You never stopped being enough for him, he stopped being enough for you honey. <3

Addie_Miles Time to have a niiiice chat with the lawyers. Listen, Bella, men are superficial pigs. Once you hit forty, they start looking at the ‘new models’. This isn’t something you forgive and forget. It was rough but I had to do it too. He cheated on me so. Many. Times.  Sometimes you just gotta realize once they start, they don’t change. Forget about winning him back. He isn’t worth it.

Bella_Gardner I would, honestly Addie. But I have the kids to think about. The oldest is sixteen, my littlest is eight… I can’t put them through that. You know how badly it screwed me up when my parents divorced? All the fighting, all the moving from house to house, all the pettiness. It was just a giant war and I couldn’t do that to my own kids.

If anyone has a good idea to make me look twenty again, I’ll take it. Anything but plastic surgery. I can’t afford that.

Autumn_Hubbard Lol. When you find that method, tell me. He hasn’t done it yet, but my husband’s getting a little too ‘friendly’ with the neighbor’s nineteen year old daughter. For christ’s sake. She’s young enough to be his kid.

_ _ _

>Subject: ‘Been wanting to shed ten years off? I can make it twenty.’

Gus_Katsoros Hello, ladies. :) My name is Gus. And I’m here to make you the deal of a lifetime.

I might seem like your average high school graduate, but I’m also a young entrepreneur. I’ve come up with several blends of herbs and plants from the home country of my parents’ parents to create several different products with mind blowing possibilities. My products can make you more attractive to the opposite sex, boost your confidence, but today I’m here to tell you about my newest invention- The Fountain of Youth collection.

Plastic surgery ain’t worth it. Sooner or later you’re gonna have to go back to the knife, and then back again, and you’re honestly screwed if it’s botched. Thousands of dollars all down the tube and you’ll look like melted plastic. However, nature has already created the answer. In the form of a cream and drink, I guarantee you in a WEEK you’ll be seeing phenomenal results. You’ll not only look younger either. You’ll feel younger. Your husbands won’t be looking at the other ladies anymore- they’ll be wondering how they’re worthy to kiss the feet of the goddess they live with!

I’m here to offer a free three day trial. That’s all. In those three days you will look, at minimum, five. Years. Younger. A seven day course of the drink and the cream is 35.99, but in those seven days, you will look ten years younger! A fourteen day course will have you looking like a college student again. Send me proof of the Fountain of Youth NOT working and you will get double your money back. That’s right. That’s how confident I am.

Contact me at guskatsoros.ii@gmail.com for more information.

Deanna_Osborne I can’t even BEGIN to tell you how many rules you’re breaking just by being on this forum.

1.       This is a forum for women, particularly middle aged women who are usually married or have children. Transgender women are allowed. Young women seeking out advice from their elders are allowed. Men and boys are not allowed. This is our space. Find your own, it won’t be that hard.

2.       Advertising is forbidden. We do allow you to promote books, an etsy, and other forums in this section, but explicitly selling products is banned.

3.       False advertising, do I even need to go into this here? Offering false promises to make fast cash is low.

You’re lucky I’m on mobile right now, otherwise I’d be freezing this thread and banning you. If I get back to my computer tonight and you haven’t gone though, I’m absolutely going to do that. This is unacceptable.

Autumn_Hubbard What the HECK. Oh man I laughed so hard I think I ripped the sides of my shirt. Who would seriously BUY this garbage?

Constance_Alexander … So the first three days are free?

Gus_Katsoros Absolutely!

Bella_Gardner Constance, no. Don’t even entertain this troll… I think that’s what the internet calls them. He’s just trying to mess with us.

Constance_Alexander My husband left me for a women who’s twenty three. You’re going through the same thing or will soon, don’t tell me you’re not tempted!

Bella_Gardner I’m not crazy and I’m not stupid. No cream or smoothie is going to smooth my wrinkles and take away the body of a woman who’s given birth to four kids.  Nice try Gus.

Gus_Katsoros What do you have to lose by trying though?

Deanna_Osborne Back to my computer and wow, seriously? You’re not gone? Freezing this post, banning your account. Goodbye, and good riddance.

_ _ _

>Subject: ‘So I Bought the Fountain of Youth…’

Constance_Alexander I know, I know I’m crazy. I’m so tired though. I’ve never been sexy my whole life, and I’m not exactly aging like a fine wine. So I contacted that kid through his email and got more details. We exchanged like a dozen messages and well, he seemed sincere in his project. So I’m doing the week long treatment.

I wouldn’t have brought it up if it never arrived, but it did? In really good timing too. I’m a little impressed. The box is nice, the containers for the cream and the drink look really nifty too. I’ll attach images to the end of this post to show them off.

The cream is put on before bed, and you take the drink at morning and night. I’ll be posting about it here. Maybe it’s crazy, but like he said. What do I have to lose?

[IMG ATTACHED]

[IMG ATTACHED]

[IMG ATTACHED]

Bella_Gardner Constance… I got the free trial. I’m sorry for being a bit of a bitch. I really don’t have anything to lose, I’m so tired of wondering what my husband’s up to whenever he goes out, and if he’ll just take off with some whore who likes his stupid cars.

We’ll do it together, ok? Just to see if it affects different skin types.

Deanna_Osborne If only I could record my incredibly loud sigh at this moment. You know what, I won’t tell you to stop, but I will judge you. Especially you Constance. You paid money for some kid’s science experiment or hoax. But hey, do what you want. Its your cash.

Gus_Katsoros1 *It’s ;D

Deanna_Osborne Oh for god’s sake! I banned you already! Just wait until I get back to my computer.

Gus_Katsoros1 I just wanna see the results. :(

Constance_Alexander My first impression isn’t that good Gus, I’m sorry. The cream smells really metallic and its pink tinge makes me look drunk.  It’s making my face tingle quite a bit but at least it doesn’t burn. I don’t know if I can leave it on all night though, it smells awful.

Bella_Gardner The drink’s worse. Oh god, I might hurl. It tastes like a nosebleed. Literally like a nosebleed. I don’t care how old you are, I’m SUING if I get sick.

Gus_Katsoros2 You’ll get a refund if it doesn’t work, Constance, but not much I can do for you Bella. It’s a free sample. :/

Deanna_Osborne How many times do I have to BAN you?

_ _ _

>Subject: ‘Holy Crap.’

Bella_Gardner I take it back. I’m not going to sue you Gus Katsoros.

I’m going to nominate you for the Nobel Prize.

I’m stunned. It really did take five years off! The wrinkles are already smoothing out. I feel more energetic in the morning. I think I’ve even dropped a pound? I’m buying two more weeks of the product, hands. Down. Constance, get another week for yourself, and then go out on the town in a little black dress. If this kid’s promise is half true, you’ll have your husband regretting every moment of his life without you.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

Gus_Katsoros5 I made another account to thank YOU, Bella! :D It’s nice to know I’m making someone else’s life better.

Deanna_Osborne … Wait. It worked?

Bella_Gardner See for yourself. ;)

[IMG ATTACHED]

[IMG ATTACHED]

Deanna_Osborne Holy… okay Gus, I’m gonna have to ban you again, I’m sorry, I can’t make exceptions to the male rule, but sign me up for a two week treatment.

Gus_Katsoros6 It’s cool. I’m basically making a new account every time I post anyway.

_ _ _

>Subject: ‘The Fountain of Youth WORKS!!!!’

Constance_Alexander I’m crying. One week done and I really have taken off ten years. Weight, wrinkles, I feel like even my bone structure has changed! Pardon my language Deanna, but my ass looks like one of those Kardashian’s. Shut up and take my money, Gus, that’s what the kids say nowadays right?

I’m going out tonight with a twenty nine year old. He has NO idea I’m so much older than him. He runs his own company and when he sent me a message through that dating profile I made, he said I looked like the Queen of Heaven.

Thank you, Gus! Thank you! Ladies, you HAVE to invest in the Fountain of Youth!

Bella_Gardner I couldn’t agree more. My husband can’t leave me ALONE. He even, get this, brought me to a dinner with his friends and their wives. He’s showing me off like he used to when we were young.

My self-esteem has never been higher!

Unfortunately though Gus, I don’t only have praise for you though. I seem to have developed some skin sensitivity since starting the Fountain of Youth. I thought it was just some leftover pigment from the cream at first, but I’ve gotten a sunburn. Not a serious one, mind you, but I only spent maybe fifteen, thirty minutes outside? Definitely not more than an hour. I think I’ll go off the cream and give the rest to some of my girlfriends at work.

Addie_Miles No, it’s not just you, Bella. I had to do some gardening yesterday and I have a WICKED sunburn.

Deanna_Osborne I think it is definitely the cream. I’ve never had a sunburn in my life, but my skin hurts so badly right now. Only when I go outside though. Other than that, it’s fine. Better go back to the drawing board kid. Come up with something that doesn’t give you sunburns. I’m gonna stop the treatment for now, I already look younger and I don’t feel like making my husband look like a sugar daddy, if you know what I mean.

Gus_Katsoros9 Skin irritation? Damn. I thought it wasn’t going to happen this time.

I’m so, so sorry ladies. If any of you want a refund, I’ll absolutely deliver. I advise definitely stopping the cream if you’re really bothered. Again, I’m really sorry. I guess it’s just back to the drawing board again.

Gus_Katsoros10 Also sorry for the late notice but I’m going out of town. Dunno when I’ll have internet again. I’ll start filling out orders once I’m back, I promise. Hope that all you who ordered got what you wanted, and thanks for your support.

Deanna_Osborne I haven’t even had time to ban accounts eight and nine and you’ve already made ten. It’s fine, I got what I paid for. I haven’t felt this good in ages. Minus the skin pain of course. It’ll go away soon now that I won’t be using the cream anymore.

_ _ _

>Subject: ‘Ummmm?’

Autumn_Hubbard K I’m a little… concerned. After I started getting sunburns like the rest of you I threw the rest of my stuff in the drawer. I already looked thirty when I’m forty one so what’s the point?

The point is I wake up this morning and I look almost exactly like I did when I was twenty five.

I swear to GOD I haven’t even taken the drink. Heck I look better than I did when I was twenty five! I was trying to shed pregnancy weight then. Now my stretch marks are gone and I’m shaped like Marilyn Monroe. The sunburns have only gotten worse too. I’m taking a few sick days from because of how much light HURTS. Five minutes outside and I’m in bed for hours puking into the trashcan and in agonizing pain.

Is this just the stuff working its way out of my system? Because I’m not onboard with this shit at all.

Bella_Gardner No, it’s not just you. Jesus Christ, I ended up pitching it when I honestly thought I’d burst into flames after taking the trash out. It’s probably just the stuff working its way out of your system. I’m absolutely taking a few days off. I love how I look, but Christ. It’s just not WORTH it.

Deanna_Osborne I caught my husband using my leftovers. Apparently I’m not the only one who feels uncomfortable with their appearance, who would’ve thought?

I told him about the side effects but he told me how damn GOOD I look. Like I’m his Venus and he wants to be my Mars. It’s kinda attractive, I’m not gonna lie, but I’m a little concerned for him.

Although he did used to be a football player in his college days…

Addie_Miles You better tell us if it works on your husband.

Also is anyone else becoming an insomniac?

Bella_Gardner YES. Holy shit. All day I’m a couch potato. I can barely get out of bed. When the sun goes down though, it’s like someone gave me a straight shot of caffeine. I’ve been going for jogs in an attempt to burn it off, but it’s not working. I can get all the chores done without all the kids underfoot at least but dear God.

I’m tempted to have my husband use it. I mean he wasn’t ever a real LOOKER but that beer belly isn’t exactly my favorite feature of him…

_ _ _

>Subject: ‘He’s Leaving Me.’

Bella_Gardner Not even looking like a twenty five year old model is good enough for this jerk.

He’s packing his bags, he tells me he loves ‘Kayla’ more than he EVER loved me, and he had the nerve, the NERVE, to tell me that ‘at least her looks aren’t fake’.

Fake.

He thinks I’ve ‘faked’ what I look like now.. I’ve lost thirty pounds, my skin is smooth, I’m stronger and have more energy (at least at night) and the only mark on me is the scar on my belly where my youngest son was cut out of me.

And yet the only money I’ve spent is about seventy dollars on the Fountain of Youth. Yeah. Sure. Fuck you too. He’s already told me that he won’t be sending me money, if I have enough for surgery I have enough to care for our kids.

I would be guzzling wine and shoveling down ice cream but to be honest my stomach’s been super touchy lately. I don’t think I’ve kept anything down lately.

I just don’t know what to tell the kids.

Autumn_Hubbard Tell him their father abandoned them because he’s a shallow fucker.

Constance_Alexander Slit his throat and drink his blood.

Bella_Gardner WHOA, overreaction, Constance! Although it has absolutely crossed my mind to kill the bastard. I’m alone. With four kids. I can’t leave the house during the day without being in agonizing pain.

I swear if I get my hands on him I’m wringing his neck. And that is absolutely the wine talking, apparently my stomach doesn’t mind alcohol.

_ _ _

>Subject: ‘I Think We Got Played’

Deanna_Osborne                                                 My husband ended up taking a higher dose because he thought it wouldn’t affect him as easily, given he’s a bigger man. It just made it kick in faster. A lot faster. He looks exactly like he did in college.

But it’s more than that. Like I said, he used to play football, but quit when a tackle messed up his left knee. It’s fixed. Years of physical therapy, constant exercise, and heavy painkiller use. And it’s fixed within a matter of a week thanks to this ‘Fountain of Youth’.

It’s not stopping. The change isn’t stopping. And it’s not going to stop. I’ve nonstop emailed that stupid goddamn kid. You guys can try, I actually encourage that you to try, but I don’t think he’ll be responding any time soon. I think he realized what was going to happen and BAILED.

Those groups of teens that went missing from two different highschools last year? I dug deeper. At the first school there was a senior named Gus Katsoros. He went missing at the same time as the others. God be with the kids who were this psycho’s first test subjects. God be with me and my family, our canines have fallen out and are being replaced by fangs, the twins must’ve been stealing the rest of the drink. We’re not human anymore.

And God be with Gus as we are all going on the road to find this little creep.

Constance_Alexander I’ll be joining you. I’ll meet up with you in Wyoming.

I don’t know what I did last night, but I woke up soaked in blood and for the first time in days no longer hungry. Last night’s date is nowhere to be found and he’s not picking up his phone.

This little jerk took advantage of the fact I was insecure and he will pay.

Bella_Gardner I’ll catch up with you guys.

After I have a little date with my husband…

[lachalaine]

ALL OF THE MUNDAY ICONS GO ILY BTW

Munday 

not accepting (rape tw)

Send  🐶 for a role play related pet peeve.

this is going to sound so stupid but. i really… i really hate run on sentences when i read them in serious replies???? like… i understand not being perfect at grammar and all because GOD KNOWS I’M FUMBLING ALL THE TIME. but… commas are a thing? semicolons are a thing? dashes are a thing??? it’s like… it’s one of the few things that can make or break how i feel about someones writing, and seeing it once or twice — okay. forgivable. but seeing it in every other sentence…… i just. it. annoys me. tbh. and that’s one of the reasons i just stop and conk out like. no. i can’t do this. i just can’t. please!! please use your local comma today thank u !!!

Send ☠️ for something that will result in a instant unfollow from you

cries softly because do i actually have anything like that?? i usually allow most things to occur, and i want to get to see if something bad that might occur happens all the time or if its situational thing only. but… OH OKIE. YES. SOMETHING I WILL INSTANTLY UNFOLLOW YOU FOR. 

IF YOU’RE AFTER JACKIE JUST SO YOU CAN GET HER INTO THE BEDROOM. LIKE IF THAT’S YOUR ONLY GOAL. IF THERE’S NOTHING ELSE. IF I HAVE TRIED AND THERE IS NO INTEREST IN HER IF I GIVE YOU ANYTHING OTHERWISE. IF YOU ASSUME SHE’S GONNA HOP ON YOUR DICK IN FIVE MINUTES BECAUSE YOU HAVE ONE. IF YOU AREN’T EVEN GOING TO BOTHER WITH ANY OTHER KIND OF INTERACTION BEYOND THAT TO EVEN GET INTO THAT KIND OF DEVELOPMENT, LIKE NOT OF FRIENDSHIP, OR ANGST, OR JUST REGULAR ACTING LIKE A DECENT PERSON WHO’S AT LEAST SUBTLE AND ISN’T TRYING TO SEXUALLY HARASS MY MUSE INTO A CORNER JUST BECAUSE U THINK SHE’S HOT. BOY. 

i will soft block you and all your blogs so fucking fast and i don’t care if you notice, i have standards as to what kind of situations i’m willing to throw my muse into and it’s not going to be for a ship that shallow, go away. 

Send ✋ for a prompt/plot/concept/ anything you refuse to role play

i will roleplay anything but severe gore and rape scenes. by severe gore, i mean intestines hanging out and ribs being yanked by hands and dhsadha things like that. i tend to skip over reading those kind of things tbh. i still allow torture and things like that with broken bones but once organs are hanging out I NOPE OUTTA THERE THANK U VERY MUCH. also with rape scenes, i will only write the beginning of the actual intention, like at points where one might try to rip off clothes or try to touch her, i will allow like maybe — an outfit being torn off? jackie getting pushed into a corner? that kind of thing. something where the trauma starts to become real. but anything after that, i won’t subject my muse to. whether that be because she gets out of the situation or the man stops or she kills the guy, that’s all that matters to me. 

i will not write her being raped. period. 

Send 📝 for a rule you think is important when it comes to role playing

i think it’s important to have a proper ooc relationship with the other mun. i don’t mean you have to be close friends that talk all the time and plot day in and day out. but just have that — sort of comfort between the both of you to know that you at least enjoy each others presence. you don’t mind getting dm’s from them. don’t mind getting asks. don’t mind them in the notifs. you might not be close. might not be good friends. might not even write together all that much, really. but the important thing is that when you do - they know you appreciate them and their presence, no matter what. 

Send 💘 for your policy on shipping with your muse(s)

i just want ships for her that are as important to me as they are to the other person. honestly. that’s it. that’s hecking it. i want ships that are important to the other person to get involved in. ships where we explore them properly. where they grow. where they might fight but they try to work it out. where she’s not another scratch on a bedpost, and threads where there’s actual real development for feelings and not this “i created this muse just now and she’s already in love”. 

it doesn’t work that way. yes, she can fall for someone faster than she might fall for another but there’s gotta be an actual reason for it. so the policy is that: no development = no ship. because i don’t want to be the one to turn around and say “i told you so.” when the ship doesn’t go as fast as you want it to. when it doesn’t go sweet. when it doesn’t go easy. SHE IS NOT PERFECT. SHE IS NOT EASY. I MEAN THIS LITERALLY. SHE IS THE HARDEST PERSON TO DEAL WITH WHEN YOU REACH A CERTAIN POINT AND YOU HAVE TO BE READY FOR IT, BECAUSE EVERYTHING BEFORE THAT IS JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG, AND I AM WARNING YOU ALREADY. IT’S GONNA GET ROUGH. 

do not ship with her if you aren’t willing to go through it. 

Send 💞 for your policy on pre-established relationships with your muse(s)

i’m fine with pre-established relationships based on friendship. like. hanging around each other on a regular basis friendship. not close and knows personal things that may not have ever occurred friendship. if in doubt, just ask me. but as a rule of thumb, think about them as being friends that have seen each other maybe ten times and had a good hour of conversation, at the very least. anything closer or deeper is a bit… too uncertain for me. 

Send 🔍 for something you look for on other’s blogs

i look for passion. i look for people that care about their muses very much. those that will go in depth on things they didn’t realize they could go in depth in. things that make them more than just a muse in someones head and an actual character that could live and breathe and exist in that kind of setting. if you’re only after one thing in particular, which is just ships, it shows. if you’re only willing to go at the surface layer for your muse, it shows. if you’re not willing to try to explore them outside of their comfort zone, it shows. 

make them feel human, that’s all i’m looking for. 

Send 😊 for likable quality for a role play mun to have

i like muns that reach out tbh. those that like, they let you know that they see you. whether it be through liking your posts ( aesthetic or musings or actual writings ) or just leaving a small comment here and there just saying something small they think you might want to hear. like, I LOVE THOSE TYPES OF MUNS. and i know not all muns are like that because of anxiety issues. i get those anxiety feels too. but it just. it breaks a barrier with someone i think, when you can do that with them. it could be such a small gesture like just one small like on a post that doesn’t concern them and i end up feeling like OH YOU RELATE OKIE OKIE I LIKE YOU TOO. and then it gets me more involved and maybe gets them more involved until finally you’re just friends without actually discussing being friends dsabdhsabh I LOVE THAT SO MUCH TBH ITS GREAT 

Send 🔪 for a fandom you refuse to associate with 

the k project fandom. which is ironic because that’s where i started with my muse and i still love k project as an anime but just. the roleplay fandom drains me like nothing else. i had some people i liked over there but the rest just. it doesn’t have what i need in terms of writing. also undertale because it’s… not my thing. i think that might be it though more or less. i don’t know. i don’t really do fandoms that much you know? i like just grabbing certain verses and certain people and exploring things with them, but for the most part - the oc community is my favorite place to be. 

// @soulmauled

[the-final-peace]

RP PLOTTING CHEAT SHEET.

Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted. Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Templatehere.

mun name .  Ches ooc contact .  IM or Inbox preferably.

who the heck is my muse anyway . Death itself, the very essence and meaning. Not an angel of Death, or a God, or whatever. Literal Death. The Pale Rider, The Grim Reaper, you all know him and he knows all of you. Of course, this is my little spin on the character and his world, to the point my boy here is basically an OC of mine.

points of interest . The ol’ bone daddy here has an ever present cold aura about him, he’s slender and tall, pale white skin and hair. Appears almost exclusively in a tired form, very adept at pushing buttons and pulling strings to manipulate others to follow a certain path. Orchestrating fates and demises using this..talent.

what they’ve been up to recently . Honestly? Not much. There hasn’t been any SUPER HARDCORE plot things with the ol’ Reaper here in a while. He’s often more of a side character assisting others in their situations, which, is fine with me. Though..would definitely like some sweet sweet plottage here and there.

where to find them . Nowhere! :D  You’ll never be able to find Death itself unless he has previously allowed himself to appear to you, though if the muse has actively become an acquaintance with the old shepherd he’s often found in his palace within the Land of the Dead..being tired and busy as usual.

current plans . Not much here, either. Death and I are pretty...scattered as of late, so it’s been a more ‘visit to visit’ kind of setup for his threads and interactions. However, I do have a few ideas I plan to poke into and test out once I find a bit more time and energy to do so!~

desired interactions . Battles, something on an epic scale. Be it something akin to an end boss fight kind of setup, some great betrayal by Death or something of the sort. Even possibly a ‘gang up on this force of nature’ kind of battle because who doesn’t want to overthrow Death itself for all he’s done? That, or a well planned out manipulation thread, Mortem is a master of words and twisting other’s wills and actions, but I’ve rarely had an option to actually...make something of it? Something meaningful at least, beyond the occasional argument gone his way.

offered interactions . Most if not all people here are welcome at any time to hop into my inbox and slam down some sick plot ideas tbh

current open post/s . Everything, as long as it’s not actively tagged for another blog. There are so many ‘;random’ tagged posts that would work, even the ‘;musica mortis’ posts are available as interaction starters as the muses often “sing” the lyrics.

anything else . Death’s death, killing is his literal reason for existing and he’s the reason you can kill and die. That being said, he’s not a bully or the usual mindless monster murderer trope he usually gets in media and even other rp blogs that I’ve seen. I’m not gonna get him to kill a muse unless one of two things happen. Either it’s spoken about and a plot step, or the muse pokes and prods and asks for it..because i wont hold back my muse for that kind of stuff.

TAGGED BY: @burmecias-protector TAGGING: @eversusregnum | @thompsonxxwitches | @guaritrice | @karismatickitty | @sacritch | andddd whoever else might want to, just be sure to repost this instead of reblogging.

[lia-nikiforov]

Summer 2017 Anime: Final Impressions

My excuse for this being so late is that I was waiting for The Reflection to end, but also school is kicking my ass and depriving me of my will to live lol. The summer was a mysterious season, with shows I was very hyped about turning out to be a disappointment, whereas shows I expected to be utter trash ended being quite entertaining, and even a sequel I thought was bullet proof self-destructed in the end. So let’s get down to business to defeat the huns (I just watched Mulan yesterday, I can’t help myself I love that movie too much, I swear I won’t do it again... too soon)

1. Boku no Hero Academia 2: Season one of HeroAca was an entertaining and very well executed example of why the Shonen Jump formula still works. Season two is absolutely fantastic in every possible way.  The pacing was good, the animation was excellent (praiseth be BONES) and this second part of the story did an outstanding job in fleshing out its extended ensemble cast, something many shonen manga fail to do. It also has the balls to question its own idealized hero society and even bring in some complex topics regarding radicalization. It’s just an overall really good show with an extremely lovable cast, and I can’t wait for season 3. Easily takes the gold for this season.

2. Fate/Apocrypha: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Fate might be my favorite new show this season. It’s not without its deficiencies –Jeanne pretty much does nothing but run around and be Shocked and Confused, Palurdo-kun is a boring potato, we don’t really feel like we know any of the characters- but it’s definitely better written and less pretentious than UBW and although the characters are shallowly written, they’re pretty likable and share interesting dynamics. Heck, in the latest episode (I wrote this like two weeks ago oops) I even felt bad for Vlad Tepes of all people. Also Astolfo and Mordred are too excellent to exist.

3. Made in Abyss: This one was a lot of folks’ fave anime of the season, and it is indeed a very unique and marvelous production in many different senses. It has an original main idea, with imaginative creatures and landscapes, lovable characters with interesting dynamics and very well placed twists and turns to keep the audience engaged. It meanders quite a bit in the middle, and I couldn’t help wonder what purpose exactly Ozen’s training served when Reg and Riko were proved to be hugely unprepared to face the deeper layers of the Abyss, but the final few chapters were superb in every way. I do however have to take points off it because of how it casually throws around the idea of extreme physical punishment for children and the mangaka’s gross pedo omorashi fetish. I’ve heard it was severely toned down for the anime and it was still uncomfortable to watch, I distinctly remember at least three different scenes about Riko peeing herself. It was unfortunately recurring and notorious enough to damage my impression of the show permanently, but it’s still a highlight in an otherwise dry season.

4. Kakegurui: I didn’t have a lot of expectations for this show, but it turned out to be pretty neat trashy entertainment. The whole ahegao aesthetic wasn’t much my thing, but other than that it was a lot of fun, Yumeko was a unique and interesting protagonist, and her wildcard personality made the results of the bets not necessarily predictable. I’ll say the final episode, which was an anime original, was quite a disappointment because it basically achieved nothing in terms of plot or character development –except maybe for Suzui. You could tell they rushed through some plot elements and struggled with the pacing overall, and I’d say the episode with the girl with the gun fetish was kind of a waste, not because of the icky concept itself, but because the bet was pretty boring and kind of achieved nothing. Otherwise it was pretty fun and Sayokan’s opening was A+++

5. Katsugeki Touken Ranbu: Well I actually finished this one, as opposed to Hanamaru, so that’s already a small victory. It still wasn’t the show I wanted it to be and specially the faceless, aimless quality of the villains makes it pretty much impossible to get invested in the plot, but I really liked the direction they took in the last few episodes. Episodes 9 and 10 were specially brilliant. I think Horikawa’s defection could’ve been handled in a much more interesting way, but of course since all of the characters are meant to be sold as merchandise, there were things they weren’t ever gonna do, so I’ll take what I can get. Hopefully other Tourabu projects will follow along the same vein and explore the different swords in regards to their relationships with their former masters, hopefully adding more shades of gray to those dynamics. east three 

6. Shoukoku no Altair: It had a slow start, but the show really picked up steam with the conflict over the Sultanlus and Mahmut orchestrating a coup. I still think the show loses potential by making the German Empire so unequivocally evil; a more daring writer would’ve made out a more nuanced conflict in which Torqye’s obsession with controlling the four sultanlus could be as manipulative and imperialistic as the Empire’s own ambitions. Still, it was a unique portrayal of a political conflict that was resolved quite creatively and in a very exciting and satisfying manner in spite of there not being a lot of action. I was definitely hyped seeing the four new sultans gathered together at the end before departing to their respective lands.

7. Shingeki no Bahamut: Virgin Soul: I find myself quite conflicted about what to do with Virgin Soul. I loved most of the show. It had some hiccups here and there, but overall, it had been one of my favorite series of the season –and potentially the year- Until the last three episodes. Since Mugaro’s murder, the series took a nosedive and it just never recovered. Though it might be more accurate to say that the problems the writing had been dragging along became unavoidable and, predictably, they were incapable of resolving them properly. Especially regarding Charioce. There almost seems to be a disconnect between the first and second halves, because the second half completely sweeps under the rug most of Charioce’s evil deeds. His motivations were awfully predictable and were insufficient to explain all the tyrannical shit he did in the first half. In light of how everything ended, Jean and Nina’s trip to the land of the gods turned out to be completely inconsequential. Even Mugaro’s death was completely meaningless. I assume it was meant to be a catalyst to send the Gods and Demons to fight the Humans, but then that confrontation didn’t come to real fruition because of the last minute Bahamut plot. And what was the biggest slap to us all was the final reveal that “Bahamut isn’t dead after all”. So the status quo is completely restored and the entire show was pointless. It’s frustrating because I can almost touch the threads of a great story –Nina and Charioce’s final dance would’ve been beautiful if they had earned it-, but in the end it’s reduced to a disappointing pile of missed potential.

8. Isekai Shokudo: Definitely meandered for at least one third (maybe even half) of its run, overdoing it with the over glorification of the most boring foods imaginable (no matter how much glossy effects and sparkles you put on it, there is no way to make natto on rice look luxurious and appetizing), but it was still a fairly pleasant show to watch, and the final episode had a few reveals that neatly wrapped up a few “plot points”, particularly the reveal of the chef’s ancestry and how that connects to the otherworldly visitants. I think it could’ve been a lot better, but I’m also not horrified by what it ended up being, which I consider a victory this season (looks at my top 3 from the pre-season anticipation post and weeps)

9. The Reflection: What a weird show. I have very mixed but not very strong feelings about it. The first episode was really bad, but it developed a few interesting ideas along the way. I think the crux of it though, was that it had more potential than the writers could develop in 12 episodes. My biggest disappointment is that Stan Lee wasn’t the final villain and in fact, his character didn’t really do a lot. Though I guess that could be applied to most of the characters, specially the villains. The final confrontation reeked of X-Men ripoff. Incidentally, I-Guy’s story and how that came to a climax at the finale was probably the strongest part of the show. I think it’s worth a watch, if only for how weird it is, even if it is ultimately a shrug overall. The ending –as in, the literal final scene- was terrible though. They should know this is never getting a sequel unless Stan Lee funds it with his own pocket money, so that ending makes noooo sense.

10. Centaur no Nayami: What a weird show. Why do we have so many weird shows this season. I was unsure about whether to put this one above or underneath The Reflection, Although in overall enjoyment, I liked this one more I gave it minus points because of all the icky fetishy stuff (is it too late to make another Miyazaki joke?).  Also I needed more snake-girl centric episodes. Snake girl was too good, she was the best girl of the season and I will fight you about it. Idek what to say about this because it was so weird, which was good at times, and bad very bad at other times. Definitely not what I expected.

11. Re:Creators: I’ve already kind of talked passingly about this show’s multitude of problems so I won’t go too deep into it here. I think the show itself kind of plays itself with this final dialogue. Supposedly, director Ei Aoki said this was supposed to symbolize “how sometimes even if you try your hardest you still fail”, but that doesn’t excuse 20 episodes of floundering around with characters that got stunted development arcs, often resolved with the power of convenience, and that served no real purpose to the plot. Except for Magane who was a plot convenience walking, to the point she goes off scott free after literally murdering half a dozen people, but I guess it’s fine because she helped Sota to solve his manpain in the end. It really is a shame because the concept itself was fascinating, but the execution made it just a giant masturbatory “aren’t we anime makers the greatest” fest it just didn’t manage to be as cool as it believed itself to be.

12. Hitorijime my Hero: I guess it wasn’t worse than Super Lovers and that’s about the best kind of praise I can offer this show.  Even if you look past the extremely questionable aspect of both relationships (idek which is worse, the teacher that wants to fuck his student or the guy that blackmails the other guy to have sex with him. At least neither is worse than the guy that grooms his own little brother?????) the show just isn’t good. It treads familiar melodrama plot points, but they’re executed so mechanically they fail to make any impact. What little drama there is, it’s terribly forced, which in tail causes the resolutions to be flat and anticlimactic. The production values are also butt, most of the time the characters look like they have balloon heads. Will we ever get the adaptation of an actually good BL manga that we deserve? Will I die before there is a Honto Yajuu anime?

13.  Welcome to the Ballroom: Sigh, what is left to be said about Welcome to the Ballroom? I think calling it the biggest disappointment of the season would be an understatement. Although the introduction of Chinatsu has made the gender dynamics slightly more tolerable, it’s still too little to truly throw a wrench in a show that has systematically treated every woman in its cast like second-class citizens. I’ll keep watching the second half, and at least there seems to be an intent to occasionally use actual dance music –not that the sound editing does anything to favor that music, and the latest episode had more silence than music, but it’s a step-. I’d love it if Chinatsu and Tatara turned into a revolutionary, unique pair, with the woman playing the role of the leader. Now that would be the fix this show needs. Alas, I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen, and that their relationship arc will be about Tatara learning to be a proper leader and Chinatsu a proper follower, so teasing us with Chinatsu’s leading proficiencies seems borderline cruel. We get it show, you hate women. Can you at least show me any actual animated dancing before the 24 episodes are over?

14. Vatican Miracle Examiner: This show is such a bizarre, surreal watch because it makes not a single ounce of sense whilst taking itself insanely seriously. It’s one of the many weird, confusing shows this season, but it’s probably the one that’s less self-aware. Although Ballroom is way more unpleasant and a way bigger disappointment, at least it has a coherent story (a terrible one, but coherent) and an attempt at good production values. Vatican Miracle Examiner doesn’t have any of those. But hey, it has a serial killer Santa Claus, rainbow cocaine Jesus and criogenized Adolf Hitler sperm, so who’s the real winner here?

I think I’ve checked out all the shows I intended to check out for the fall season but there are a few that I’m still undecided about, so I’ll give them a week or so beore I make my somewhat definitive watchlist

[megabadbunny]

Endless List of WIPs

I was tagged by darlings @gingergallifreyan​ @pellaaearien​ and @goingtothetardis​ and @lvslie ! Thank you for thinking of me! ilu all <3 <3 <3

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on: writing, art, gifsets, whatever.

Oh my gourd, I’ve got so many WIPs it’s not even funny. It is legitimately depressing how many WIPs are currently languishing in my fic folder. Like I don’t even know what order to go in. Aw, heck. Let’s go nuts!

::draws in a deep breath:: ALL RIGHTY KIDS HERE GOES NUTTIN BRACE YOURSELVES FOR WAAAAY MORE SPOILERIFIC DETAIL THAN ANYONE ASKED FOR

Minuet (some parts eventually nsfw, partially published, I’m actually consistently working on this??? tHe FuCk):

“Is this normal?” Mickey asks Rose under his breath as the Doctor prattles on, chattering to no one in particular while he strides away with impressive speed.

“No,” Rose sighs. She watches the Doctor as he wanders off, tries to ignore the sick feeling twisting in her chest. “This is new.”

She can feel Mickey’s eyes on her when she doesn’t elaborate. “So…did something happen last night?” he asks, slowly, cautiously, like he doesn’t really want to hear the answer.

Rose fights the urge to heave another sigh, wraps her arms around her body instead. “No,” says again. “Nothing happened.”

She knows Mickey doesn’t believe her, would be able to tell by his suspicious silence even if she couldn’t see the eyebrow arching off his forehead, but mercifully, he doesn’t ask again. Instead, he proffers his arm to Rose, standing up ramrod-straight like he’s posing for a school formal photo.

Rose shoots him a questioning look. He grins at her. “C’mon, babe,” he says with a wink. “Let’s go for a stroll and you can tell me all about your adventures back in fancypants France.”

Rose smiles despite herself. “Are you sure you’d rather hear about that than whatever thrilling botany lesson the Doctor’s throwing at us?”

Mickey shrugs. “We’ll just make sure to throw a few uh-huh’s and how fascinating’s his way every once in a while.”

Threading her arm through his, Rose laughs.

forbidden planet (a mostly-complete response to a timepetals prompt from aaaages ago):

Martha stifles a laugh. For such a bigger-on-the-inside vessel, the bedrooms are awfully cramped. Her room can’t be much wider than she is tall, and the sloped ceiling—why sloped? Is her room positioned against the outer hull somehow? Just what is the TARDIS really shaped like?—does nothing to combat the claustrophobic feel of the place. It makes her think of cabins below-deck, of tight-knit quarters and tiny bunks. If she didn’t know any better, she would almost feel like she was traveling on a real ship.

A seaship, she quickly corrects. Just in case. All of this might be very new to her, but she was at least warned about the gentle buzzing at the back of her skull. Best to remain on good terms with her hostess, she thinks.

Weariness tugs at her bones, a special kind of gravity drawing her inexorably toward the bed, but she isn’t quite ready to sleep yet.

(“Go and have a good wander,” he’d said.

“Is there anyplace I can’t go?” she’d asked.

“Why would there be?”

She had laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ve got a restricted area. Maybe there’s a west wing with a rose in a glass or something.”

He had almost seemed to flinch at that, but it was only an almost-flinch. She could have imagined it.

“The TARDIS won’t let you go anywhere you shouldn’t,” he had told her. “And don’t worry: my claws are purely figurative,” he’d added with a wink.

Strangely, that hadn’t made her feel any better.)

A New Song for River (rated teen, partially published, will finish some day I frigging SWEAR):

How did this happen? How did she let this happen?

(What did she just do?)

River feels like she might choke. Something is squeezing the inside of her chest. In an odd way, she’s glad, because otherwise, things feel like they’re not really happening right now. She’s watching a movie—a truly horrendous one, at that—and she can’t turn it off.

The Doctor does not say anything, and River knows from experience that this is very rare, and very bad.

“Are you angry with me?” River asks calmly, as if they’ve just had a lovers’ quarrel. She laughs. “Are you disappointed?”

The Doctor does not offer a response, and River does not press her for one. “I suppose it’s different when you murder someone,” she says instead. “It’s always justified when you have to do it. Right?”

Sleepy Hollow ficlet (untitled, all-ages, based on a prompt I think, will it ever get done? No one knows):

The Doctor doesn’t have time to move away, barely even has time to think, before she lifts the veil and presses a kiss to his lips.

Stunned, he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t reciprocate or pull away or wave his hands ineffectually about or do much of anything, really. He just stands there like some kind of idiot.

The crowd around them laughs and claps their hands, delight from the game quickly overtaking their mistrust of the foreigner in their midst. (It occurs to the Doctor that anyone who responds to a kiss in this fashion probably isn’t regarded as much of a threat. He’s seen walruses flopping on the beach with more dignity.) Dimly, the Doctor is aware that the smirking fellow is no longer smiling—“fuming” may be the more appropriate word choice at this juncture—because halfway through, the kiss has changed into something a little bit more, the girl’s hands traveling up to tangle her fingers in his hair, lips parting to betray just the smallest bit of moisture, and now this is a kiss the Doctor recognizes.

“Rose?” he squeaks into the girl’s mouth.

The girl—Rose—frowns. She removes her veil and blindfold and stares up at the Doctor, charting his face with wide brown eyes. The Doctor smiles, relaxing just a little bit; the sight of her soothes tension in his shoulders he wasn’t aware he’d had.

Except why is she looking at him like that?

“Forgive me,” Rose murmurs in an unfamiliar American voice, “Do I know you, sir?”

The Doctor feels his grin fade off his face. It corresponds nicely with the sinking feeling in his chest.

No Place Like Hohm (partially published, mostly written fOr ReAlSiEs it just needs a good polishin’!!!):

The Doctor shrugged. “Meddling with timelines is tricky business. Anytime we land, it’s really best to disturb things as little as possible, just make a little tweak here or there, try to blend in and then disappear. You know, help where we can without making too much of a splash.”

Mickey snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

“Excuse me, I happen to be very good at what I do,” the Doctor said, “and yes, I’m very sorry that you’re not witnessing the usual full and immersive experience on your first new planet. But right now, we don’t have the time to go sneaking into the stadium and gallivant about in loincloths and spears. So we’re bending the rules just a bit.”

“Why?” Mickey asked. “Not that I really want to wear a loincloth,” he added hurriedly.

The entire TARDIS gave a great shudder as it started to materialize. The Doctor grabbed his coat. “Because,” he said, averting his eyes from Mickey’s as he pulled his coat on. “It’s Rose.”

He looked up to see Mickey watching him with a shrewd expression. He didn’t like it. Something about Mickey the Idiot being shrewd or, even worse, astute, just made him grumpy.

“Well?” he snapped. “Are you going to be useless in here or are you going to be useless out there?”

Mickey scoffed. “Like I’m going to let you take all the credit for the rescue.”

“That’s the spirit!” the Doctor agreed.

The Day of the Doctor: Redux (this isn’t quite a fic, so much as a re-imagining of the 50th anniversary special and how it could have worked better even with very similar story elements):

The Girl in the Fireplace: Redux (exactly what it says on the tin; gitf rewritten so that the plot makes sense and the characters are, well, in-character):

“So how’s it alive in deep space?” Rose asks while Mickey simultaneously blurts out, “What d’you mean, ‘living’? We’re not—”

Mickey glances round the corridor, realizing for the first time, perhaps, that the floor beneath their feet is spongy and soft, the cables stringing overhead are actually vines, the reason the walls are rough and ridged like tree bark is because that’s exactly what they are, and the lights surrounding them don’t resemble anything electronic so much as phosphorescent, only half-dispelling the semi-darkness that has fallen on the entire vessel.

And he doesn’t even want to know what that sticky stuff on the ceiling is.

“—standing around inside something alive, are we?” he finishes with a shudder, gingerly reaching out to touch something that looks, for all the world, like a patch of blue moss on the wall.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the Doctor replies brightly.

Mickey’s hand snaps back. “Gross.”

“Oh, come on,” Rose teases, “The TARDIS is alive. That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“This is different, you know it is. The TARDIS doesn’t look like the inside of a swamp, it isn’t dark and creepy, and most importantly, it doesn’t have floors that go squish.”

“Oh really?” the Doctor asks, scoping out the place with renewed intrigue. “You think so?”

“You gonna tell me the TARDIS does have squishy floors?” Mickey asks uneasily.

“No, no,” the Doctor tells him, dismissive, his eyes trailing over the walls, his brain cataloging details in the background. “Well, not usually.”

The Girl in the Revolution (explicit, unposted but maybe half-written; another post-GitF au, but considerably darker and angstier than Minuet):

“I want you to realize how selfish you are,” Rose tells him.

The Doctor nods. He doesn’t take his eye off her. “Yes,” he agrees. “I very much am.”

“You’re selfish, and you’re petty, and you’re really no better than anyone else.”

The words sound like they hurt her just as much as they’re hurting him. “Yes,” he agrees again, says truthfully, his voice gone rough.

“I was in love with you, you know.”

His glance flickers away. “I know.”

It’s true. He does know. Always has, on some level. Just hasn’t known exactly what to do about it.

He can’t quite meet her eyes, looks at the wall behind her shoulder instead. In his periphery, he can see that she’s blushing, a red flush blossoming across her cheeks and neck and chest. She’s embarrassed, and upset, but her eyes are still trained on his face.

“Don’t suppose you still are,” he says to the wall.

Rose laughs quietly. “Would it make any difference if I was?”

It’s not a no. He’ll take his chances.

Defenders of the Altverse, Episode 02: The Saturn Initiative (mostly all-ages, partially published, has technically mostly been written but I keep re-writing it over and over and AAAARRRRRGH):

“Most pressingly, I’m someone who isn’t overly fond of having weapons pointed at him for no good reason,” the stranger replied. Reaching out slowly, he placed one hand over the barrel of the gun, pushing downward until it pointed at the floor. “Well, I prefer not to have weapons pointed at me for any reason, really, but it’s sort of a given in my occupation, I’m afraid.”

Ripley didn’t move to stop him, studied his face instead. Something about the man seemed familiar, though Ripley couldn’t quite name it.

“So who is he?” Ripley asked Rose.

“Right. Doctor, Ripley; Ripley, Doctor,” Rose said, gesturing between them.

Ripley’s eyes widened. “You’re the Doctor?” he asked, holstering his gun. “The Doctor?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“I don’t think there’s anyone from the old team who hasn’t heard of you.”

Suspicion evaporated from the Doctor’s face in an instant. “Old team, you say?” he asked, suddenly curious. “What team? And why old team? Is there a new team?”

“He doesn’t know about the crew?” Ripley asked Rose.

Instead of answering, Rose just cleared her throat and looked away. “So, what’s the story here?” she asked. She crossed her arms in front of her body, holding them close like a pair of shields. “I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you—”

“You’re not, but keep going.”

“—but I don’t see why I’m needed,” Rose continued like she hadn’t heard him. “If Torchwood’s already on the case, they’ll sort it all out. Won’t they?”

“Well, I had sort of hoped you were on the case,” Ripley said, frowning.

Defenders of the Altverse, Episode 03: The Dark Forest and the Bad Wolf (unpublished, partially complete but haven’t worked on it in over a year, will it ever see the light of day? Who knoooows):

“Oh, my darling,” the Doctor forced out, feeling awkward under the heavy glare of the villagers’ suspicious eyes.  “I...love you too!”

Rose peeked up and over her fingers.  The Doctor thought she may be smiling behind her hands.  Her eyes twinkled a bit.  Only for him, though.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said, summoning any and all acting skills he’d ever possessed. “Oh, my sweet, sweet wife!”  He pushed through the crowd to get to Rose.

She did not wait for him to reach her.  She ran straight into his arms, flinging herself against him, wrapping him in a snug embrace.  Even through all of his layers of clothing, he could feel her heart hammering desperately.  She was, perhaps, more concerned than she would let on.

“You all right?” he whispered into her ear.  She tightened the hug in response.  He squeezed her back.  A hug is no good if you don’t reciprocate, he reasoned.

But the hug broke off when the Doctor realized that Rose was shivering horribly.  Of course.  He shed his coat and placed it around her shoulders.  

“Won’t you be cold?” she asked, though she received it gratefully.

“Nah,” he said with a grin. Rose smiled up at him.  That was all the warmth he needed for now.

Well, figuratively speaking.  He was actually already quite cold.

Defenders of the Altverse, Episode 04: An Inadvertent Adventure (unposted despite the fact that this damn thing is ENTIRELY WRITTEN. It has been complete for LITERAL YEARS NOW. Like at this point I’m gonna have to read-through and rewrite it just so it’s up to date with my current style. BLARGH):

Jackie gaped as the Doctor waved the lemurs goodbye. “How did you do that?” she asked. “I saw you do that before, earlier. Are you doing some Spock thing?”

The Doctor laughed.

“What?” Jackie demanded.

“Nothing,” the Doctor chuckled. “Just having a moment.”

He started removing the frond-cover from the TARDIS. “It’s telepathy,” he explained, and he smiled when Jackie started helping him pull the huge fern leaves down. “If I’m in direct physical contact with someone, I can reach out and read their thoughts.”

Jackie yanked her hands back. “Weird,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “And rude.”

“Well, I don’t make a habit of it,” the Doctor told her. “Telepathy’s a tricky thing. One wrong move, you can turn both of your brains into pudding.”

“Weird, rude, and dangerous. Sounds like you all over!” Jackie snarked.

The Doctor didn’t reply, just nodded and flashed her a mischievous grin.

Defenders of the Altverse, Episode 05 (all-ages, unposted, untitled):

“Okay, how about this?” the pinstriped man asked, stowing his hands in his pockets as he took several purposeful steps toward the Doctor.  “I’m not just from another universe.  I’m you from another universe.”

The Doctor chuckled at that. “Well, you’re a very ambitious liar, I’ll give you that.”

“If you’re desperate for proof, I can tell you everything that happened on Arcadia,” the man said quietly, “And Susan’s last words.  But I don’t think either of us want to think about either of those any more than we must.”

“Susan?  Who’s Susan?” the Doctor scoffed.

“Oh, right, I guess they could have gone with the other name here,” the man said, rocking back on his heels. “Let’s see, what else did they think of naming her?” he asked thoughtfully.  “Something to do with ‘M’. Mary? M’vula? No,” he remembered.

He glanced back at the Doctor. “Mara,” he said.

The Doctor felt the grin slide slowly off his face.  His granddaughter Mara was long dead.  Or very recently dead, depending on how you looked at it.  Either way, her body was cold and rotting.

“I would dearly love for you to tell me she’s still alive here,” the pinstriped man said, “But somehow I feel like that’s a bit much to hope for.”

Untitled 1 (sequel to la belle dame sans merci):

“…breathe, Doctor, please!” he hears, or thinks he hears filtering in amongst the rest of the clatter, and he thinks he feels the pressure of a familiar hand on his chest, on his cheek, but he can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think—

(She’s not there, she was never there, there were no kisses, no whispered confessions, no lazy afternoons or too-late nights, no silly movies or ignored phone calls or held hands or stolen glances or too-tight embraces no missions no fights no shared flats no shared beds no them no her no no no no no no)

The next thing he knows, the room around him is crowded, filled with the hustle and bustle and monitor-checking and notes-taking and questions-asking of a dozen (maybe a hundred) Torchwood doctors and nurses. Lights shine in his eyes and mouth and fingers press against his wrist and a needle pinches the inside of his arm, the soft fleshy bit inside his elbow (his antecubital fossa, he thinks dully), and for once, thank god for Jackie because she’s back in the room, answering all of the questions for him, her hand wrapped tightly around his. Before long, he feels himself drifting, his consciousness untethered and floating away into a deep, black sleep.

(He can’t make out the words, but he can hear the concern in Jackie’s voice; she squeezes his hand in assurance and he thinks he should squeeze back, but all he can do is wonder why it isn’t Rose holding his hand before the curtains fall and darkness claims him again.)

Untitled 2 (aka a totally random fic I’m still tinkering with about Rose x Depression as observed by one Mickey Smith):

“I need help,” she says one day, quietly. Like she isn’t even sure she wants to be heard.

“Sure thing, babe,” he replies. His words are firm and sure and spoken without a second thought, the way hers used to be. “What do you need?”

“I need help knowing how I should feel about this.”

Mickey glances up from his monitor, surprised. Of all of the things she could have asked, this one seems the least expected, somehow. Rose always knows how to feel about something. She always knows what to do about it, too. But she’s a little different, now, in this different universe. Mickey supposes they all are.

Rose hands over a magazine. It’s one of those trashy things from the paper shops, a publication just as likely to feature celebrity gossip as it is a mermaid washed up in Bournemouth. (There’s no such thing in this universe as a mermaid, just like the other. Mickey knows. He checked, just to be sure.) One of its corners waves and curves upward, its edges stained yellow-beige with grease. Rose must have stopped for chips on the way over. Good. At least she’s remembering to eat now.

It takes Mickey just a second to find what he’s looking for, and when he does, he has to stifle a laugh. Splashed across the front cover in obnoxious yellow, right above a photo of Rose looking as grumpy as humanly possible beneath her oversized (designer) sunglasses, a headline reads I WAS ABDUCTED BY ALIENS!—MYSTERIOUS VITEX HEIRESS REVEALS ALL ABOUT ORIGINS.

“Well,” Mickey says, rubbing his jaw. “When you compare it to Bat Boy, it seems downright reasonable, doesn’t it? Not half-accurate, either.”

“I wasn’t abducted.”

“Try telling your mum that,” Mickey chuckles under his breath.

Untitled 3 (aka “tiem babby” because I’m an adult; a timepetals prompt reply that will wither on the vine if I don’t water it soon, aaaalaksdjfl;kj):

His body is a vessel filled with lead and regret. It’s heavy, too heavy, his feet loathe to move. But eventually he stops staring and starts moving. He walks even though his limbs resist him every step of the way, his motions unhurried and thick like he’s wading through water or molasses.

(This is the first day of the rest of his life.)

Canary Wharf’s blinding-whiteness might hurt his eyes, if he bothered looking up at all. (He doesn’t; he won’t; what’s the point?) His gaze points floorward but registers nothing, gliding sightlessly over tiny mountains of debris and indiscriminate electronic carnage. When he finally reaches the TARDIS, he can barely muster enough energy to pull his key from his pocket.

Safe inside his ship, he allows himself a moment, eyes shuttering closed as he slumps against the doors.

“So?”

His eyes fly back open. The Doctor snaps up quickly enough to give a human whiplash, and he can just feel himself going pale as the blood drains from his face.

Jackie Tyler stands next to the console, wearing a denim jacket, a velour tracksuit, and an expectantly-arched eyebrow.

(Oh, and a baby on her hip. Can’t forget that, though the Doctor somehow managed to.)

Untitled 4 (aka Rose seduces the metacrisis Doctor on a Torchwood mission, aka “officesmut”; hey, at least my temp titles let you know exactly what to expect...):

It occurs to her, suddenly, that maybe he isn’t quite so hopeless as he seems.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, his breath warm against her ear, his voice dangerously low.

Rose swallows, a thrill shooting through her. “I thought we were finished here.”

“Well, you thought wrong, then, didn’t you?”

She arches her hips experimentally, grinding against him until his grip on her waist tightens. “Oh, I don’t know,” she drawls. “Feels like I had the right thought.”

Chuckling under his breath, the Doctor brushes her hair away from her neck, fingertips grazing feather-light over her skin. She shivers deliciously. Bites her lip in anticipation.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” the Doctor says, planting kisses along the join of her shoulder and neck, “but this new body is much more difficult to control than the old one. Before, it was simply a matter of exercising discipline, and only a small amount at that. But now I’m quite a bit more—”

“—responsive?” Rose suggests, pressing her bum into him again.

“Frustrated.” He nips at her neck and her toes curl in response. “Don’t think I missed any of your display tonight. I see everything, Rose, and I smell it and I taste it, too.”

Untitled 5 (unposted, explicit, another timepetalsprompt fill er mer gerrrrrrd why can’t I finish anything):

When the elevator slows to a halt on the ground floor, and the Doctor still hasn’t turned around, tension leaks out of Rose’s shoulders and she’s able to breathe again. He hasn’t noticed her; he will leave the elevator and go about the rest of today’s adventure, oblivious but wonderful, ridiculously unobservant but safe.

Rose believes that right up until she hears the telltale whir of the sonic screwdriver, and realizes that although the lift has stopped, the doors remain closed.

“Do you know,” the Doctor says conversationally, as if they’ve been talking to each other this whole time like old friends, “I remember a time when you used to run with me, not from me.”

Rose’s heart lodges in her throat. Wordlessly, she glances about for something, anything, that can help her, but either the lift is truly empty or the adrenaline racing through her veins is blinding her.

Fuck.

The Doctor chuckles under his breath. “But I suppose I should be saying Thank you. Otherwise I might have fallen for it.”

Fallen for what? Rose thinks, but she doesn’t have a chance to ask—he’s already turned around and there’s no mistaking it, he sees her now, he sees her, his eyes hard and glittering, and did his gaze always burn like this?, and fuck.

Untitled 6 (explicit, multichapter, unposted; prompted a hundred million years ago and certainly the promptee has given up on it by now yet I stubbornly slog on; simply labeled as “post-je super angst latest” because wow, am I clever or what):

“Awful quiet,” Jackie remarks at the tailor’s, her voice low so that only Rose can hear. She rifles through a clothing rack and pulls out a suit jacket (in blue, not brown; she’s cottoned on quickly).

“How d’you mean?” Rose asks.

Tilting her head, Jackie holds the jacket out at arm’s length, surveying the garment and the Doctor in the same glance. The jacket’s skinny, but not as skinny as he is. “Thought you’d be bouncing off the walls, the both of you,” Jackie explains. “That, or tangled up in the bedsheets.”

Rose groans. “Oh my god, mum.”

“Don’t give me that. I know how it is. Lose the man you love, spend years pining after him, finally find a parallel version of him in an alternate universe. Bound to be some celebratory shagging, isn’t there?”

Jackie replaces the jacket on the rack and grabs a different one. “Especially when he keeps wearing those tight trousers. You buying what he’s selling, or what?”

Rose closes her eyes and prays for mercy. “Mum, I’m pretty sure he can hear us.”

Both of them glance across the store to check, but the Doctor seems absorbed in the necktie display, smiling when Tony points to a tie in a shade of nearly-TARDIS-blue.

“Nah,” Jackie sniffs. “Even his hearing isn’t that good, I reckon.”

As soon as she turns away, the Doctor looks up at Rose with a wink.

(Is she imagining things, or did it suddenly get a few degrees warmer in the shop?)

Untitled 7 (college theatre au; another prompt-reply from like centuries ago I’m so so sorry nonny I hope you’re still alive and your bones haven’t turned to dust):

Rose opened her mouth to politely tell this gent and his posh Estuary accent to mind their own business, but fortunately, her eyes moved faster than her lips; she found herself staring at a bloke who, despite being so thin that a hard look might knock him over, was pretty enough to make her heart trip on itself. Academic types didn’t usually do it for her (there was something about their snooty voices and prim manners and patronizing attitudes that grated on her nerves, somehow). But, looking this fellow up and down as subtly as she was able, eyes cataloging everything from his spectacles to his wild hair to his freckles to the ever-so-slightly tatty brown pinstripe suit—paired with Chucks, no less, who wears Chucks with a pinstripe suit?—Rose felt that perhaps she could make an exception this time.

“Thanks, professor. I’ll keep it in mind,” she teased as the lift lurched and lumbered upward.

“What makes you say I’m a professor?” he asked, mouth twitching in amusement.

She shrugged. “S’just a joke,” she replied, but halfway through her sentence, it occurred to him that he was looking at her in a very specific way, and that gave her pause. He wasn’t leering at her like the lads on the sidewalk, or sneering at her like gentlemen in suits were oft wont to do. Instead he was watching her almost like—

Like she was onto something.

And...I think that’s it. Phew. I’ve got my work cut out for me!  ^ ^;;

Tagging: @tiffotcf @helplesslynerdy @abadplanwellexecuted @wordsintimeandspace @lvslie and anyone else who’s interested in playing! :3

[carrotcouple]

In The Land of Higashiizumo (AO3)

Kiun has four jobs. One, working for an organization called ‘Equilibrium’. Two, guarding the gate of Yomi. Three, taking care of his cousins. Four, being Takemikazuchi’s anchor. The last one is the hardest. It is also the one Kiun is the most invested in.

Chapter 6: Plan of Action

“So how are things going with your practice?” Hiyori asked Kiun as they sat down in the Jianhuren classroom, a bewildered Yato coming behind them.

“He’s getting the hang of it, so it would seem. The first few times it was a failure and I had to eat more of that Yokai medicine. Ebisu sama seems the most amused by all of this. Anyway, he can control his power to the point my lightning has dimmed only a little bit. In an actual fight, I don’t know how effective it’ll be. But the major issue is, has your mother discovered that you’ve been stealing sacred thread and using the raijuu seal spell?” Kiun whispered. Hiyori frowned and turned towards Yato, absentmindedly rubbing ointment on his wrists to heal the rope marks on them.

“I don’t think she’s noticed.” Hiyori told Kiun. “At least she hasn’t noticed it yet.”

“How are you feeling?” Hiyori asked Yato. “Sorry about knocking you out for so long.”

“And I keep telling you he was probably under a spell.” Yukine muttered.

“So exactly what did you people gain by letting me out so quickly?” Yato asked bluntly. He turned to Yukine. “What do you even have to do with any of these guys?” Yukine shrugged.

“They seemed interesting.”

“Yato, how about you tell me what we gain by letting you out?” Takemikazuchi walked up to Yato. Yato looked up at Takemikazuchi and then dropped his gaze. Kiun wondered if the boy was unnerved by Takemikazuchi’s stare. A lot of people got nervous when Takemikazuchi looked at them.

“Other than getting a whole lot more trouble on your plate, I have absolutely no idea.” Yato shrugged as he fiddled with Hiyori’s pen on the table.

“You have a pretty good guess, but you won’t say, am I right?” Takemikazuchi tilted his head. “So Yato kun, who is this person you’re so afraid of?” A heavy second ticked by and it was almost as if everyone in the room had stopped breathing. Yato lunged at Takemikazuchi, Hiyori’s pen in his fist aimed straight at his throat. His hand stopped a couple of inches from Takemikazuchi. Yato growled under his breath and he seemed to struggle as he tried to stab Takemikazuchi. “Man, this just proves that Masaomi kun still has a lot to learn. When Sayuri san put the barriers on me, I couldn’t even touch anything if I had the urge to use it to hurt someone else or myself.” Takemikazuchi shook his head in disappointment.

“Who the hell agreed to let this guy do the persuading?” Yukine asked with a face.

“Here’s the deal, brat. I can’t read what’s going on in your head and you can’t read what’s going on in mine, but we both have higher intelligence levels. I’m gonna ask you to understand this and realize your choices. I was kidnapped at the age of two and taken to one of the illegal Ban Shen laboratories. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was a Weizhi I would have died when the raijuu was put in me. Even then it was more painful than anything else. It took five years for my body to accommodate the raijuu. Five years of excruciating pain. Imagine your bones breaking and mending, yours muscles tearing and rejoining, your organs ripped to shreds and being brought back a hundred times a day for five years.” Takemikazuchi said seriously. Kiun closed his eyes and willed the image of little baby Takemikazuchi screaming and crying in pain away. Kiun forced his eyes back open.

I have to face this. Only if I face it will it be possible for me to hold his hand.

“And then I was experimented on. They tested how quick my body would heal, how much the raijuu could heal. Heck,” Takemikazuchi’s voice cracked and he pressed his hands against his torso. “I don’t even know how much of this body is actually mine. What if all of it is the raijuu?” Hiyori’s hand was pressed against her mouth in horror. “I was rescued at the age of eighteen. That was a year ago.” Takemikazuchi looked Yato dead in the eyes. “And yet I have decided to align myself with these people. Now tell me, Yato kun. What will your choice be?”

Yato stared at Takemikazuchi, aimed pen still stopped by the barrier. His briefly glanced at everyone in the room. The pen slowly lowered.

“Have it your way then,” he said dully. Yato drew up to his full height. “He’s my father, a Guancha zhe.”

“Your father?” All of them cried out. Yato rolled his eyes.

“Yes, my father. He’s an extremely powerful Guancha zhe. I don’t know how he does it, but he can hide his thought processes from me. He has all kinds of dangerous artifacts from all over the world and has learnt the art of astral projection. Even the former Jianhuren wouldn’t be able to hold him back for too long. In his astral form he can create actual damage and also pass through barriers. That’s how he got into Higashiizumo to tell me to find something.” Yato explained. “He doesn’t work for Equilibrium, it’s his goal to bring Equilibrium down.”

“Bring Equilibrium down?” Kiun shot to his feet. “ Wait a moment! How can one individual do such a thin-”

“If he’s got a Weizhi frightened of him and doing everything he wants, then he’s a formidable force, Kiun.” Takemikazuchi said with a troubled look on his face.

“He wants me to get a certain scroll from the Iya Shrine. It has information of what’s in Yomi.”

“When does he want this scroll? Do you know anything about his plan?” Yukine was the first to speak.

“I don’t know,” Yato shrugged. “I’ve never bothered with trying to find out what he’s up to before. He’s too frightening.”

“Let’s steal the scroll!” Hiyori said excitedly. All of them turned to look at her. “If you think about it, he wants the scroll to find out what’s in Yomi. If we read the scroll ourselves we can pick up a little on his plan! You’ve never defied him before, have you, Yato kun? He won’t be expecting you to look into it seriously. Let’s do this!”

“Wait, Hiyori chan! Do you even know what you’re saying? You want to steal what is probably a top secret scroll from the Iya Shrine? The most protected shrine in Higashiizumo?” Kiun asked her incredulously.

“And if all of us work together, I’m sure we can do it!” Hiyori told him, dead serious.

“You have to admit, she’s got guts and brains.” Takemikazuchi grinned at Hiyori. Kiun resisted the urge to internally frown in jealousy. He didn’t want to behave like this every time Takemikazuchi acknowledged the prowess of a girl. “Fine then, let’s do this.”

“How would we break into that shrine anyway? Isn’t it guarded by Kofuku san usually?” Yukine asked.

“Oh, you’re pretty knowledgeable about this!” Kiun chuckled. Yukine huffed in what should have been annoyance but they all could see his ears had turned red.

“It’s true, Kofuku san is a formidable opponent.” Takemikazuchi frowned. “Yato kun, would you happen to know where exactly the scroll is?” They all turned to Yato who was staring at them speechlessly.

“Why are you guys doing this? I still don’t understand.” He glanced briefly at Hiyori with a suspicious look on his face before he looked back at Takemikazuchi.

“Eh? You still haven’t figured it out yet? You’re not much of Weizhi are you? We’re trying to save you Yato, the same way we saved Takemikazuchi.” Kiun said with a friendly smile. It was strange. People feared Weizhis and called them horrible monsters, but Kiun could see the light within Yato and Takemikazuchi. They were just children. Children who were scared of the world that was trying to reject them.

“Save me,” Yato muttered with a scoff. They ignored him. They didn’t expect him to believe they could save him yet.

“So where is the scroll?” Takemikazuchi asked, sounding rather annoyed.

“Behind a brick underneath one of the torches was all he said.” Yato told them.

“There could be a lot of torches there!”

“How would we even get in?”

“Forget how to get in, it’s getting out that’s the problem.”

“The Iya Shrine priests are pretty hard to deal with too, they’ve dealt with Shrine robbers for centuries.”

Kiun, Hiyori and Yukine started to talk all at once.

“Hold it, leave the planning to a Weizhi that knows Higashiizumo well.” Takemikazuchi hushed all of them. “Knowing Yato he would have somehow sneaked his way in and maybe gotten caught in the process. It’s not easy for him to do anything in that state. We’ll need a copy of Sayuri san’s blueprint of the Iya Shrine, our problem would be leaving the shields she’s placed around her office area intact. Then would be a distraction for Kofuku san, Daikoku san and the priests. The priests would most likely leave any disturbances to Kofuku san and Daikoku san. We need a method to deal with them. Then we have to get the scroll without triggering any alarms. All of this has to be done in a way that will not raise suspicion at all and I have an idea.” Takemikazuchi grinned.

------o------

“Kiun san, am I strange for not following in my mother and brother’s footsteps and doing something out of the norm?” Hiyori asked as the two of them started to fill in the new bookshelf they had gotten in the special class. Everyone was taking defense lessons from Daikoku but Hiyori had always been taking lessons for defense so Kiun and her had stayed back to fill in the new bookshelf they had gotten after Suzuha destroyed the last one. Kiun didn’t want to tell her that he was actually concerned that Masaomi was following in her mother’s footsteps. Each Jianhuren was known for being radically different from the other.

“It’s not strange, Hiyori chan. You are doing what you think is right with your powers. You will make a fine Jianhuren one day.” Kiun smiled. He watched the insecurity melt away from her face and she nodded as if reassuring herself. “Everyone is different. And I can tell, there’s something special about you, Hiyori chan.”

“So she does take after her grandmother...does that mean I’m going to lose Masaomi?”

Kiun didn’t want to think of it, but he believed that Sayuri san was going to lose Masaomi, not Hiyori. Either way it would be painful. Hiyori had the makings of a Jianhuren more so than her brother. Kiun wondered if Masaomi had already figured it out.

Kiun regretfully looked down at his discarded notes. He had told Hiyori the things she could not do as Jianhuren, but he had yet to tell her the price her family had to pay for gaining such power. He didn’t know how to say it.

“Oh, don’t you think Yato and Takemikazuchi san will like this book?” Hiyori asked. Kiun turned. ‘A History of Weizhis’.

“You’re very thoughtful about Yato kun aren’t you Hiyori chan, you’ve seemed to have taken an unusual liking to him.” Kiun dusted one of the books. No doubt she had been fascinated. It was just like her to become fascinated by something that should normally scare people. When he heard no answer he turned to her. She had a conflicted look on her face.

“Kiun san, don’t tell this to anyone else...sometimes, when I look at him, I hear his voice screaming my name and I can tell he’s trying to warn me, trying to save me. I hear that same voice in my dreams sometimes. When I hear that voice, I think, someone who sounds that scared to lose me can’t be all that bad, right, Kiun san?” Hiyori looked up at him. Kiun’s face had lost all color.

Scribbled somewhere in his bundle of notes was written:

The price paid for the power of Jianhuren, the loss of one of the Jianhuren in training and the test of a loved one.

Jianhuren were known for having prophetic dreams and glimpses into the future every now and then. What was Yato screaming about in Hiyori’s glimpse of the future?

“Kiun san?” Hiyori asked nervously. “Was there something wrong with what I said?”

Kiun snapped himself out of his daze. He refused to worry Hiyori.

“Ah nothing, just a little tired, I think Takemikazuchi sama went overboard with his training again.” Kiun awkwardly laughed.

------o------

“Yukionna’s can do that?” Yukine asked in surprise as they sat and there and ran through their plan.

“That’s right, at the highest level, a Yukionna jiijin should be capable of turning invisible like a Yukionna. I don’t think it should be possible for you to do it right now, but if you manage to draw even a little bit of power from the Yukionna you should be able to become unnoticeable although you’re still visible to people.” Takemikazuchi explained.

“So you want me to steal the temple layout blue prints?” Yukine asked Takemikazuchi.

“That’s the plan, you’ll be suspected the least out of all of us.” Takemikazuchi told him. “If they get suspicious they’ll probably question Yato and possibly me because there are still some people who have become wary of me since my last fight with Yato.” Takemikazuchi turned to Yato. “Some of the idiots here are way too hot blooded for their own good, so if they get scared or suspicious they might turn violent. Luckily, they shouldn’t be able to get too far. Think you can handle it?” Takmikazuchi smirked at Yato. Yato huffed.

“I’m not a child that’s afraid of pain.” Yato sneered.

“For some reason I feel like he’s insulting me, Kiun. Can I kill him?” Takemikazuchi turned to Kiun his voice straining to keep out the rage.

“We need Yato kun for our plan. So just calm down.” Kiun unconsciously reached forward, patted Takemikazuchi’s head and only realized what he was doing when Takemikazuchi puffed out his cheeks with an angry pout. Kiun flushed and snatched his hand away. Takemikazuchi looked at Kiun, slightly startled. “Anyway, continue telling us what the plan is.” Kiun gestured for Takemikazuchi to continue. Takemikazuchi turned back to everyone else.

“We need a proper distraction for Sayuri san to show up for long enough so that Yukine can steal the blueprints. The major issue would be the amount of shields she has in her office. If even one goes down the plan will be ruined. To be honest, Yukine will have to work the hardest. Yukine before the Yukionna possessed you, you were able to see shields and barriers, right?" Takemikazuchi asked.

“Well, I think I know what you mean by that…” Yukine nodded.

“The reason why you can’t see them anymore is because you have yet to match with your Yukionna’s wavelength. Once you have, you will be able to see a lot of things you couldn’t see when you were just a simple Guancha zhe.” Kiun tried to explain. “I’ll have to train you along with Hiyori,” Kiun tried to work out lessons in his head.

“So basically, as a Yukionna jiijin you should be able to avoid those shields. That’s why Yukionna’s are so dangerous, because they can’t be held down by anything.” Takemikazuchi grinned evilly and Kiun almost shuddered. Takemikazuchi’s eyes were burning with excitement and Kiun was seeing the Weizhi that he was. It was like standing on the brink of a stormy sea.

Now that Takemikazuchi mentions it, it’s true that Yukionna can’t be held down by anything except when they’re in the body of a Guancha zhe or facing an extremely strong opponent. So why did it possess Yukine? I haven’t heard of a Yukionna incident in so long and Yukionna are strong, it doesn’t gain more power from possessing a human child that hasn’t developed psychic powers properly. Yukionna don’t want to travel into populated places either, they only stay into their territory. So why possess Yukine?

“As for the distraction, Yato that’s your job. You have to somehow rile Suzuha up. Or create a scene yourself. Hiyori chan, it’s your job to attempt to stop him with your power. Now, I know that you’re more than capable of stopping him when he’s restrained like this, but you have to pretend that it’s hard for you, create a lot of fuss and disaster so that your mother can’t step in and stop the whole thing in one go. Kiun and I will be in the library and we’ll move out to assist Yukine the moment Sayuri san leaves her office.” Takemikazuchi finished. “It’s all or nothing with this plan, that’s why we have to do it perfectly.” He paused, a frown on his face. “I want to keep this mission a top secret one so we’ll have to return the blueprints as fast as possible, Yukine will you be able to scribble a rough copy of the blueprints down when you’re in Sayuri san’s office?”

“As long as it’s not too complicated.” Yukine answered.

“Yukine kun has such a big job.” Hiyori smiled brightly at Yukine. Yukine blushed and looked away.

“OK, now that we’ve had this meeting, I believe it’s time for Hiyori chan’s classes with Kiun. We should try our best to not disrupt everyday schedules.” Takemikazuchi got to his feet and stretched and everyone else shot up as well. Kiun and Hiyori left first, walking towards the Jianhuren classroom.

“Kiun san, this only occurred to me now, but the day of the Oni migration, I think my brother was starting to tell me about the classes I would take. I know they would have tried to break it to me very gently about how I was a Jianhuren and all that. But there is one thing I remember very clearly that struck me as odd. My brother told me to stay far away from Yato kun - this I now understand - but he also told me to stay away from Yukine kun.” Hiyori looked up at Kiun. “I wonder why he told me that, Yukine kun is harmless.”

“Maybe because Yukine kun is an unstable jiijin.” Kiun smiled at her.

Why would she be asked to stay away from him? Is there really more to him than I thought? I’ll have to ask Takemikazuchi after this…

“Oh...you’re probably right.”

------o------

“Takemikazuchi sama, may I have a private word with you afterwards?” Kiun asked at dinner. Kaun and Maun looked up from their food and Miun stopped picking out the fish from bone for Takemikazuchi. Kiun resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Takemikazuchi was such a child, he couldn’t even eat his fish without help.

“Yeah, sure.” Takemikazuchi said, playing with his soup.

“Stop playing with your soup, Takemikazuchi sama.” Kiun said sternly.

After dinner Kiun and Miun washed the dishes while Takemikazuchi went to take a bath. Kaun and Maun were discussing some of the shields they still had to put up especially after Yato’s rampage.

“Why do you have to be so formal with him? He’s been living here for more than a year.” Miun asked. “I mean, I understand that Kaun and Maun are still sort of scared of him, but I am stuck at home with him a lot and I know he’s harmless.” Kiun didn’t know his little sister was the type to worry about these kind of things.

“I just have always called him that, I guess and well...he is technically my superior…I mean, I’m the head jiijin in his group.” Kiun fumbled for a reason.

“But do you have to act that way even at home? You’re in love with him aren’t you? Don’t you want to talk to him informally? You know maybe call him Take chan and-” Miun started. Kiun slapped a foamy hand onto her mouth and she let out a out a sound of outrage.

“Sh! How do you even know that?” Kiun hissed. How had she found out that he was in love with the Raijuu Ban Shen?

“It’s really obvious, you know that, right?” Miun removed his hand from her face and answered. “I think he’s the only one who can’t really tell.” Kiun went scarlet. “Look at your face! My goodness, why don’t you at least try to drop the ‘sama’?”

“I’ve done it once before, but it was embarrassing…” Kiun muttered.

“You sound like a child! Like an elementary school student too shy to call their crush by their first name!” Miun laughed at him.

“Miun!” Kiun snapped.

“Alright, alright, I won’t say anything, but please do try.” Miun shook her head, still chuckling under her breath as she finished up the dishes. Kiun headed to their home office and clutched his hands. They were slightly colder than usual and shaking. Training with Takemikazuchi had definitely gotten better but it still affected him. It tired him out and left him exhausted and cold at the end of the day. He didn’t let others see it of course and he refused to let Takemikazuchi find out if he could help it. There was a knock on the door. Kiun turned. Takemikazuchi was standing there, his hair slightly damp.

“Can I come in?” Takemikazuchi asked with that roguish and attractive grin of his. Kiun forced his heart to calm down.

“Yeah, close the door while you’re at it.” Takemikazuchi closed the door and walked over to Kiun. Kiun’s heart would not calm down. Kiun hadn’t been alone in a room with Takemikazuchi since his realization that he was in love with him and now his eyes weren’t sure where to look at.

“This is about Yukine kun. You know that there’s something more to him, right?” Kiun asked, weaving his freezing fingers together. Why was he starting to feel colder?

“Ah, so you realized…” Takemikazuchi smirked. “Yukine kun is more than just an unstable jiijin. You already have realized he’s one of the few jiijin like you able to host an A class yokai in their body. Something definitely happened with the Yukionna that possessed him on that mountain. Moreover, that mountain is off limits. No one goes off the trails and up there was where Yukine was found. It’s interesting, they managed to find out about my family, but just like Yato, they haven’t been able to find out anything about Yukine kun’s family.” Kiun watched a cold smile spread across Takemikazuchi’s face and suddenly it was no longer his child Takemikazuchi but the Weizhi filled with darkness to the brim. “You know how they whisper when they think we’re not listening about how the previous Jianhuren had a vision of you and me? The rumour amongst the Ban Shen is that Sayuri san had a vision of Yato and Yukine.” Takemikazuchi reached a hand forward and Kiun clutched his hands tighter, forcing himself not to flinch. The eyes with which Takemikzuchi was looking at him with were nothing short of someone who who could crush him with a single touch. Takemikazuchi brushed a strand of blond hair from Kiun’s face. His voice was venomous and bitter when he spoke next.

“If they’re this scared of us, then how scared would they be of Yato and Yukine? We both are already a pair of harbingers of disaster and another pair has come.”

Kiun was struck with the need to say something, something that would shove that black abyss in Takemikazuchi back down so that his Weizhi would stop hurting. Kiun stepped towards Takemikazuchi.

“But we aren’t scared of you. Kaun and Maun just don’t want you to bring down the roof again and Miun adores you. She thinks of you as a little brother. Yato isn’t scared of you! He sees you as a rival! Yukine kun thinks you’re an idiot that doesn’t use his brain. Ebisu isn’t scared of you one bit and neither are Tsuyu or Suzuha.” Kiun bit his lip. “Hiyori chan thinks of you as a friend.” Kiun was pretty sure he was going to cut his skin with his nails given how hard he was clutching his hands together. “I’m here, aren’t I? I would never be scared of you, no matter what kind of darkness lies within you, no matter what you have done and what you might do...you...you’re just Takemikazuchi to me. Just Takemikazuchi. I know that’s not much of a reassurance but I mean it.” Kiun felt relief as he saw Takemikazuchi’s eyes widen in surprise and the darkness melt away.

“Kiun, you just called me-”

“IT’S SARUTAHIKO!” A voice screamed from outside and there was a loud crash. The lights went out.

“Why is that man in Higashiizumo?” Takemikazuchi hissed. “Oh well, ignore it, someone else will probably take care of it, it’s not a big deal trust me.” Takemikazuchi’s voice said. “I can’t see you, damn it.” There was slight crackle and a very thin film of lightning surrounded Takemikazuchi. Kiun made a noise of surprise as his body went completely cold. “Shit, shit, shit. Did I do that?” Takemikazuchi grabbed Kiun’s freezing hands and pulled him closer, one arm going around Kiun’s waist and then Takemikazuchi’s lightning was gone. “Sorry, just a natural reflex to use my lightning, you know.” Kiun’s heart almost hiccupped into his throat. Takemikazuchi was so close Kiun could feel his breath against his face.

“Right…” Kiun managed to not squeak, but his voice audibly wobbled.

“You OK there? Are you really that cold? Well, I mean of course you are, your hands are freezing.” Kiun didn’t know what to do and it sounded like Takemikazuchi had gotten closer! “Sorry, I went overboard during training, didn’t I?”

“No, you were fine. I know you want to get the hang of it as soon as possible…” Kiun answered. Kiun started when there was warm hand against his face the next moment.

“Did, I startle you? I was just trying to see if your face is warming up.” Takemikazuchi lightly laughed. Kiun involuntarily leaned into the warmth. Kiun heard Takemikazuchi’s breath hitch in his throat. “I wish I could see your eyes right now, I like your eyes…” Takemikazuchi’s voice had lowered and had become a whisper. Kiun was right, he was closer. Kiun was sure his face was on fire.

“Well, I like you eyes too, they’re beautiful.” Kiun was startled at how his voice had dropped in pitch.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that one.” There was hint of a chuckle in Takemikazuchi’s voice. Kiun was feeling light headed with the amount of heat that had rushed to his face. “Thank you.” It was genuine and Takemikazuchi’s nose bumped against Kiun’s and Kiun felt a moist breath on his lips.

“Kiun nii! Kiun nii! You have to come see this!” Miun’s voice screamed. They heard her thudding footsteps and then hurried and loud knock on the door. Kiun and Takemikazuchi stood frozen in place for a moment and then he heard Takemikazuchi sigh and then the black haired weizhi pulled away. The door opened and Miun stood there with a way too bright flashlight. “Sayuri san and Masaomi kun are on their way here.” Takemikazuchi didn’t hesitate and strided towards the door. “Kiun nii?” Kiun shook his head and quickly ran after Takemikazuchi. Already Guancha zhes and Jiijins were gathering. Kofuku had already arrived with Daikoku. Sarutahiko was standing on top of the body of a huge raijuu and the raijuu inside of Kiun uncurled.

“You killed it…” Kiun uttered in shock. Sarutahiko looked at Kiun.

“Yes I did, it was enraged and crazy and on it’s way to Higashiizumo.” Sarutahiko answered. Kiun felt anger, white hot anger, both his and the raijuu inside of him.

“Why did you kill it? A raijuu is an A class yokai! They’re far more intelligent than those puny little creatures that roam the earth! You could have communicated with it! Calmed it down! Asked what was wrong! Why did you kill it?” Kiun screamed. Sarutahiko’s eyes were cold and filled with disgust.

“Kiun...calm down…” Kofuku whispered.

“A yokai is a yokai, they all deserve to die, so does the one inside you and those who fancy themselves the friends of yokai.” Kiun considered himself a calm person, but it had been so long since the raijuu in him had fueled his power and his own emotions. Kiun couldn’t keep himself down. That was a death threat to one of his closest friends. Kiun had leaped at Sarutahiko. He heard at least six people yelling his name. Kiun hadn’t felt so much power in such a long time, he hadn’t moved so fast in such a long, thunder crackled overhead. Kiun was blinded.

“Kiun stop!” he heard Takemikazuchi yell. Kiun froze, the haze in his mind was broken for just a second. Sarutahiko’s sword was at his neck the next moment.

“I’ve killed a crazed raijuu, I’m pretty sure it will be easier to kill a crazed raijuu jiijin.” Sarutahiko snarled. Takemikazuchi grabbed Kiun’s hand and pulled him behind him.

“Stay away from Kiun.” Takemikazuchi growled.

“Ah yes, of course, the freak Ban Shen,” Sarutahiko grinned but his eyes were still filled with disgust, perhaps even more disgust than when he looked at Kiun. Kiun glared, wanting to punch the man in the face. He hated him. He had never liked him, he was considered the craziest Guancha zhe in equilibrium but he was the most powerful Guancha zhe in Japan and was on par with several Ban Shens. A purple wall suddenly formed in between them. Kiun’s eyes widened. He’d recognize that power anywhere. Hiyori scrambled onto the raijuu and stood next to Takemikazuchi.

“Put the sword down!” she snapped.

“What do you think you’re doing little Jianhuren in training? If you act up too much, you’ll be the one to be ta-” Sarutahiko started. Kiun didn’t need to think much to know how the sentence was going to end.

you’ll be the one to be taken.

“Shut up!” Kiun shouted. “Shut up! Don’t say another word!” He reached forward and slapped his hands over Hiyori’s ears.

“What is going on here?” Sayuri’s smooth but clearly angry voice boomed.

Kiun turned his panicked and tear filled eyes to see Sayuri standing at the the head of the raijuu, Masaomi behind her and a breathless Yato beside her. Yato’s usually emotionless blue eyes glinted in the dark. There was fear in his eyes.

“Hiyori, Takemikazuchi and Kiun get down, I’ll make him explain things to me himself. No one attacks the people in Higashiizumo without going through me. Why would you kill a servant of Raijin in Higashiizumo, Sarutahiko?” Sayuri asked. Kiun took Hiyori’s hand and hurriedly started to take her off of the raijuu. Takemikazuchi followed.

“Yokai from all over have heard of the barriers and shields your pretty little freak over there took down.” Sarutahiko gestured at Yato. Hiyori turned, fire in her eyes and she looked totally ready to clamber back up the raijuu and punch the man in the face. Takemikazuchi put his hand on her shoulder and held her in place. He looked up at Sarutahiko and Kiun saw that darkness swimming in his eyes again.

“His name is Yato, you homicidal asshole.” Takemikazuchi snapped. Sarutahiko looked ready to swoop down and impale Takemikazuchi with his sword.

“You have hundreds of yokai heading this way and this raijuu was one of them.” Sarutahiko finished. Kiun put his hand on the raijuu’s head and closed his eyes. He stood up and turned around.

“Sayuri san, tell him to leave Higashiizumo at once, this raijuu was coming to Higashiizumo to warn you me and Takemikazuchi sama of the danger that was approaching us.” Kiun said, hate so clear in his voice even Hiyori looked shocked. “Any competent and intelligent equilibrium member would have tried to listen to a servant of Raijin before killing them.”

“Masaomi, restrain him. We’ll keep him under lock and key until I get word back from Equilibrium on what will be the consequences of his actions.”

“Are you OK?” Yato’s hesitant voice asked. He was talking to Hiyori looking her up and down.

“Ah...did you go get my mother?” Hiyori asked with a nervous smile. Kiun looked at Takemikazuchi who looked back at him. They were totally not expecting that. Masaomi came, holding Sarutahiko’s hands behind his back.

“All of you return home at once, those of you on guard come with me. S class members, meet me in the training rooms in three hours. Kiun, how long do we have till the brunt of it reaches us?” Sayuri asked Kiun.

“Just about six hours, that’s what I got from the raijuu’s memories.” Kiun answered. Sayuri put a hand on Yato’s head and smiled.

“Thank you for telling me that my daughter was in danger, Yato kun.” Sayuri said. Kiun smiled and saw Takemikazuchi grin. Yato looked wide eyed and shocked. “All of you, go, rest and collect yourselves. Tsuyu, Suzuha, I know both of you are here, please send the raijuu off properly.” Both mentioned materialized with a whirl of flower petals. Sayuri turned and Kiun and Takmeikazuchi stood there watching everyone start to leave. Kofuku grabbed Kiun.

“You scared me! You dumb raijuu jiijin!” Kofuku screeched.

“Oh...sorry Kofuku sama.”

She frowned at him.

“Go catch some sleep. See you in three hours.” Kofuku kissed his cheek and then she and Daikoku left. Kiun and Takemikazuchi followed Miun, Kaun and Maun into the house.

“Kiun nii, never do that again.” Miun hissed, upset. Kiun smiled gently and bumped his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry for having scared you, Miun.” Kiun whispered. They said good night and Kiun was just heading to his room when Takemikazuchi grabbed his hand. Kiun looked at him.

“Hey, Kiun?” Takemikazuchi said in hushed tones. “I’m the one who’s supposed to get angry here, go on rampages like that, get hurt and almost die.”

“What are you saying? You shouldn’t be doing any of tho-” Kiun started in horror.

“I’m just asking you to never put yourself in that kind of danger ever again, that’s my job.” Takemikazuchi said.

“And I’m saying that isn’t your job, you idiot! I don’t want you to get into danger, ever!” Kiun continued in the angry, horrified tone he had been using. Takemikazuchi ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m not communicating this very well, am I?” Takemikazuchi whispered. He came straight and Kiun and then cupped Kiun’s face and pressed his forehead against Kiun’s, staring straight at him in the eyes. “It’s funny, I can finally see your eyes, but I was more honest when I couldn’t see your eyes. I wonder why.” Kiun was frozen and he didn’t even want to know the expression on his face. Takemikazuchi closed his eyes. “Please be careful, I never want to see you get hurt.” Kiun swallowed.

“I don’t want to see you hurt either, Takemikazuchi sama…” Kiun whispered.

“Hey,” Takemikazuchi pulled away although his hands were still cupping his face. “Do me a favor, Kiun.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Takemikazuchi like you did earlier. If you don’t I won’t listen to you.” Takemikazuchi frowned. Kiun was sure his face was as red as a tomato. “Go ahead, call me by my name without honorifics.”

“Takemikazuchi…” Kiun had never seen the black haired male beam so brightly.

“Kiun nii, about what I said earli-” Miun froze. “Am I interrupting something?”

Kiun moved away so fast he almost tripped and fell over.

“I’m going to sleep!” he declared and fled to his room.

Author Note - I’m so sorry for having taken so long to update. I went to a different state for the summer and it was near impossible to get my hands on an electronic device, let alone the internet. On top of that, my laptop broke down during my trip. Once I got back to my place, it took me awhile to get back into the flow of writing this! I hope you’ll forgive me! I’ll work extra hard for this fanfic from here on out. As always, special thanks to wuminguk for translating this for me!

[chocosvt]

read additional ending here

⚬ pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader. ⚬ word count: 18K. ⚬ warnings: nothing too jarring, but there is an unplanned pregnancy. ⚬ genre: everything, angst, fluff, smut, romance, drama.

— ✧✎ synopsis: you work as a part time florist whilst jeon wonwoo balances his time between being a body piercer and helping out at his uncle’s garage. the two of you are thrust together in an awkward meet up when you get your first piercing. wonwoo thinks you’re kinda odd, but he knows he isn’t much different, and little by little he becomes infatuated with how you can make watering hibiscus flowers sound so interesting.

— ✧✎ a/n: don’t rlly have anything 2 say other than have fun reading, the soul has been sucked out of me!! jeon wonwoo destroyed my feelings!!

He is quiet, still like a marble statue that encases ivory bone and hot scarlet. He is impassive, a heavy brow left without a single crease nor a wrinkle, the ink that churns in indolent pupils murky, yet clear with your image that reflects in similarity to a mirror. His lips are beautiful, decorated in lovely shades of rose, yet they are not curled in a signature smile that flutters a heart or preludes a giggle. That is because, above all things, the boy is gobsmacked, perhaps even a little enraged.

Therefore, Jeon Wonwoo’s lips are plain straight. No, if they were to smile, you would burst like a water balloon, sprinkling the earth in droplets of solace. But it is not solace you feel when his face finally cracks, when his eyes flare in smoky streaks that practically engulf your lungs with desolation.

There is a click in your mind, an instinct to clasp your palms to your stomach as Jeon Wonwoo points his chin toward the floor and swears. Your words are still echoing around the room, burrowing within couch cushions and empty coffee mugs. They are permanent reminders that will forever linger, steeping around your limbs and tugging softly at your clothing. They remind you that your life will never return to normal, if normal even existed to begin with, and that sometimes, life can only prevail if a mistake is there to kindle it.

He will not hurt me, you acquaint in the sealed tomb of your skull. He will not lay a finger on me even though he is confused and angry. Every syllable that ricocheted behind thick bone only amplified how your chest ached, like someone’s fist had enclosed around your heart, squeezing it while the organ beat frantically. His fingers carded in exasperation through sable black hair, a groan so deep and desponding spilling in fashion to liquor from his lips. Still, you knew he would never bruise your flesh out of anger, out of spite perhaps starting to brew. You are beautiful, and Jeon Wonwoo does not bruise beauty.

Instead, he leaves it.

You cannot sleep. Dreary bags of ash take refuge under your eyes, dragging at the skin, positively ruining it. The clock ticks close to you, a shallow serenade that doesn’t move you to turn your head, for the digits displayed would only purloin any happiness you had left. However, city lights twinkle before curtains too thin, the door to your very cramped and cigarette stained terrace split open just an inch. The sky has become a midnight canvas, the luminance glowing beneath the paint.

If sleep won’t grace you just as it graced thousands of other lamenting lives, you mine as well prosper in what’s unfolding. You part from a comforter that no longer smells of crisp cotton, bare feet halting before the terrace door to pull away curtains slick with dust. Your reflection is hazy in the glass, and it is also a familiar sight. It’s his eyes, how they ripple sleekly under moonlight, how they exude brightness before sunshine. They are gorgeous eyes, and when you used to see your reflection in them you would believe you were gorgeous too.

Things do change however, like the flip of a dime.

They were not sleek or bright when you stared into them that one morning, and your reflection was no longer gorgeous. So to capture a glimpse of yourself in the door, stomach slightly bulged like a melon and dark lavender marring below lashes was not a pleasant sight. You decided to erase it. The door creaked open, a fresh breeze patting in embrace along your figure, tinged with the smell of dew and the bustle of city life. Just as you thought, the sky was indeed a canvas, raveled in midnight sheets that poured with no end, adorned by light that gleamed from every slope in the near distance.

You sat in one of the two chairs near the banister, allowing your gaze to melt along a view that swiped the breath from your lungs every time. Absentmindedly, your palm grazed up your tummy, fingertips rumpling your large t-shirt. You hadn’t spoken to the innocent yet, in fact, you had primarily ignored it, even though it absorbed the same nutrients as you, listened to same tunes pervading from your record player, heck, it even sat through your annual The Office marathon. Inhaling a deep breath, you patted your stomach with a smile.

“Hello,” you lilted, trying to develop a warm strength to your voice, “we haven’t properly conversed yet, I’m, Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

A silence follows, and your lips curl.

“I guess I can’t ask for your name, you don’t exactly have one yet. Got any ideas?” Car engines plagued by rust grumble from the streets, tires speeding over damp pavement hover between your every silence. It prompts annoyance. You are trying to have a conversation.

“Don’t mind all the noise. I swear everyone is being especially loud tonight, and it’s only a Tuesday? Very disrupting I know, but back to the main subject. What was it again...?”

You question, a finger tracing the outline of your lips. “Oh yeah!” Then it’s spiraling back to you, your feet kicking into the air like a small child who’s never sat in a rocking chair before.

“We were discussing a name for you! What? Why are you asking me? I’m awful at names. If it were up to me I would name you after the first thing I see… like that airplane! Do you really want to be called Airplane?”

Anyone who might be hovering in terraces far up or down below would sip their nightly tea with an eyebrow knitted expression, their ears perking at the exuberance threaded through your tone. You are a neighbour usually so quiet, reclusive, and now that you snicker and howl into the gentle breeze of the night, you may have lost those qualities. It wasn’t like you would be sobbing over it, slipping little apology notes written in peach ink under everyone’s door so they could forgive you. They were bellows of amusement after all, laced with happiness.

The digits on your alarm clock were still bright, winding deeper with all your conversations that ceased to stop branching, and it was at this time you leaned back in your beach chair, palm cradled carefully over your stomach, that you told Airplane the story of you and Jeon Wonwoo.

“You deserve to know, Airplane.” You whispered. “You deserve to know at least a little about your father, about the man who helped bloom your pretty soul.”

And Airplane listened, through the poignancy that was thick like mud on your tongue, the limerence that fizzed at your fingertips whenever you would press in recognition to your stomach. Whoever Jeon Wonwoo was, he brought you a great deal of blithe. But he also turned the water that washed along your shore a dark, harrowing red, staining the sand like grapes mushed to make wine.

In fact, the story of you and Jeon Wonwoo did indeed commence with the colour red, for it was the colour that crackled off your cheeks that summer evening, sticking to the air so sweltering and hot.

But where it really commenced was the piercing shop.

“I’m telling ya, Y/N, this is the best place to get a piercing done. I mean look at all the shit I’ve got on my ears!”

Jeongyeon was your best friend and by far the most ecstatic of the bunch when you announced your interest in body jewerly. You figured she would be, since each shell on her ear was covered with miniature silver rings, even gold beads that cast twinkles when the sun hit them. Recently she’d taken a visit back to the shop, her hair the colour of raspberry tea requesting an urgent re-dye. But that wasn’t the sole thing she’d changed for the beginning of summer.

She came trotting up the beach with a glimmer reflected on her stomach, and you realized she’d gotten her belly button pierced.

Painful perhaps, you thought, but it looks nice.

And that was how you wound up in a sketchy brick building towards the edge of town, your thighs already adhering to the peculiar plastic coating on all the chairs. You were seated by the large window that showcased all the townsfolk ambling by, wide-rimmed sunglasses on the bridges of their noses while lemonade straws hung from the corners of their lips. Even in your tank top and shorts the heat was festering along your skin, so you and Jeongyeon dashed to chairs by the air conditioning.

“Okay, but who is gonna do my piercing? I don’t want any of the newbies your dad hired.”

Yeah, Jeongyeon’s dad owned the piercing shop, which explained how she could afford to dye her hair each colour that danced across the rainbow. There was perks for you as well, you got half off on your piercing. Not too shabby for your taste. But the raspberry haired girl was suddenly coiling, her brows pinched together.

“Yeah, about that, I think you might get a newbie. But!” She exclaimed before you could let a single word roll off your tongue. “If my suspicions are correct, there might be someone who isn’t so inexperienced. He might not want to though. When it’s his break he likes to sit on the roof and read. Start looking at the piercings over there, I’ll go look for him.”

Then she spun from her seat and disappeared up a staircase, leaving you to awkwardly peel your thighs from the chair and inspect the display of jewelry. Some were distinct in colour, others in style, size. It was no difficult task to dismiss those you would never wear in a million years; however uncertainty was simmering in your gut when you dwindled your options down to two perfect piercings. One being a silver crescent moon and the other a sun, pale in flecks of gold. You had no idea how long you stood there having a mental quarrel, but the world came gushing back to you when the sound of Jeongyeon’s heavy boots hit the tiles.  

“Y/N! I found him!” Jeongyeon’s lilted voice dragged your inspection away from the counter, her smile grand in satisfaction as she hauled some boy along with an ironclad grip on his wrist.  

And that was the first time you saw him, the first time you casted cherry glazed cheeks and star speckled eyes toward, Jeon-

“Wonwoo, his name is, Wonwoo.”

Holy shit clogged every nook of your skull, holy shit, holy shit, and holy shit. If you held convictions that the summer heat was bad, than the burn that glowed from Wonwoo’s stare was in every way worse. You were too occupied with singeing his facial structure before feathered lashes to notice his palm outstretched, a tilt pricking at the edge of rose plump lips. Jeongyeon was switching a watchful eye between you both, mentally counting each second that dripped by without your response. She was impressed, ten seconds of silence settled before you snapped.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You felt like a cheery housewife who was forced to act merry toward the neighbours she secretly envied, for the words pushed past gritted teeth and exploding pupils.

“I would say your name is pretty, but I have to say that to everyone.” He answered.

His palm was a cool embrace, soft, yet ever so slightly rough around the hills near his fingers. They were slender and hugged very nicely between your own, so much in fact you felt a stone of disappointment drop into your stomach when he pulled away. But whatever forlorn he imbued was quickly churned to dust when he spoke. You just about wilted to the floor.

Jeongyeon suddenly butted into the poorly held conversation.

“You could say she’s pretty instead, compliment a girl on something other than her name for once, Wonwoo.”

“I’m here to give her a piercing, not shower her in compliments.”

“Just admit you don’t like commitment.” Jeongyeon sneered with an eye roll, arms folding along her chest in a petulant manner. Hearing them bicker back and forth only gave you the pleasantry of listening to Wonwoo’s voice, reaching deep into forests thick with pine, sunlight hardly spluttering through gaps in bushy tree leaves, and since he was slightly agitated, it could do nothing but lower.

“I’ll admit I don’t like you. Stop pestering me and go elsewhere, get some iced tea, read a damn book. Just don’t be here.”

You wondered if Wonwoo was serious, for his eyes were darker than coal and his lips were twisted in the opposite of smile. But then his hand drifted atop Jeongyeon’s head, ruffling the raspberry strands while simultaneously heaving her away.

“Can I read your book?” She called from the staircase leading up to the roof top. Wonwoo stood next to you, getting ready to see what piercing you’d chosen, yet he cocked his head to bear pearly teeth at your best friend.

“Fine, but don’t lose my page number.”

“I wouldn’t dare to.” She was on the brink of leaving, but her head popped down one last time for a reminder that left your heart an unbridled drum.

“Make sure to tell Y/N she’s the prettiest girl in the whole universe!” The venomous words flowed in a sing-song tone, alerting the few customers dotting around to swivel their heads. There was really nothing to see as you lay your forehead into your palms atop the glass counter, flames tingling beneath the squishy flesh of your cheeks.

“She’s so embarrassing.” You gritted into your hands.

Wonwoo gazed upon you and blinked sincerely. He understood where you were coming from; he’d been friends with Jeongyeon for an ample portion of his life, and if she didn’t embarrass you once, it’s not crazy to speculate she doesn’t like you.

“You don’t have to say that by the way.” Wonwoo was silent as you unsheathed yourself from the burrow of your palms, eyes glossy and fingers tugging the hair from your cheeks. Now that he stood before you, under fluoresce beaming from the counter, could he conclude you were a strange one, sheltering emotions he couldn’t begin to grasp understanding of.

But Wonwoo found himself to be a strange person too, and sometimes friendship can only prevail if there is a similarity to kindle it.  

“Hmm?”

“Like you don’t have to say I’m pretty. Not that it’s my decision to decide what you say, but I can understand how you would feel uncomfortable, ya know we just met and that’s weird right? It might be weird to call someone you just met pretty… But then that’s how some relationships start and it’s not like I’m a love guru or anything,”

Wonwoo studied the curve of your lips when you spoke, how your eyes flicked to different spaces in the room though he was right in front of you. His gaze lowered to your ring finger, how you tugged on it like it was encompassed in a Chinese finger trap. You were nervous.

“You talk a lot.” Wonwoo said simply, his elbow relaxed over the glass while his head titled ever so smugly to the side. Besides his voice, blood was apparent in rushing through your ears, your heart pounding relentlessly against a paper rib cage. You swallowed,

“You talk too little.”

It was a senseless remark that spilt off your tongue, a drastic impulse to reply in snide and not look so pathetic. A surge of magma was constructing in your stomach, melting your bones as Wonwoo slipped his elbow off the counter and took a step closer to you. Smooth collarbones were jutting from underneath milk skin, the faintest traces of makeup adorned to the creases of his eyes. Even if Wonwoo did not see the beauty that twined in abundance to your figure inside and out, he was still pretty, prettier than you could ever hope to be. He leaned forwards, his arm slipping past you to grab something on the counter.

You could not look away from the onyx pools that were taunting, dark like a midnight sky. His scent was in comparison to fresh blackberries, mild yet encompassing you all at once; toxic in the manner it possessed you to bite your tongue.

“Want a piercing or not?” Wonwoo dared to ask, voice treading deep roots around tense limbs.

“I want one.” An almost inaudible jingle of keys echoed from behind you, yet you did not turn your head even an inch to inspect. Wonwoo leaned forward even more so he could finally scoop the metal off the counter, his lips not hesitant in draining the perfect alignment of words by your ear.

“Then be good, okay pretty, Y/N?”

Chills had never swept down your spine so sharply.

When you could not make a decision between the moon piercing and the sun piercing, Wonwoo hefted a sigh. Both his elbows were positioned on the glass, chin cradled in cushiony palms as he observed you trace each millimetre of glitz.

“This is something you should do before dragging me from the roof.” He balked.

He unlocked the counter for you, allowing a better view at the jewerly that would soon be pierced through your navel. Looking at each of the velvet boxes up close certainly wasn’t aiding your situation.

“This was really last minute, okay?”

“You know you can change them right?”

“After it heals, and that takes how long?”

“Four to six weeks.”

You did not reply. Wonwoo rubbed his temples and bustled on to a different approach. He moved the velvet boxes until they were positioned between you, allowing a clear angle of the twinkles cast upon them.

“Why do you want the sun piercing?” He asked.

You chuckled wryly. “Cause it’s pretty.”

Wonwoo carded back the thick mop of charcoal on his head, eyes turned to tiny slits that seethed mock agitation toward your indecisiveness. You met his gaze with a timid shoulder shrug, laughter laced into your response.

“I answered your question!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Wonwoo huffed, fingernails tapping against the glass until he found a better way of elaborating. “You know how people get tattoos that symbolize stuff? Deaths, milestones, loved ones?”

“So you want symbolization? I really don’t wanna go back to The Merchant of Venice test sheets you know.”

The boy chuckled deeply, almost to himself, reminiscing on the pure hatred that brewed for the play after answering so many of its symbolism work sheets. His pink tongue suddenly appeared, wetting his bottom lip whilst he failed at trying to conceal a grin. You wished your heart would thwart its doings until it simply stopped beating. It could not keep up with deep voiced boy’s mannerisms.

“Shoot.” Wonwoo said.

“Well, I guess the sun makes me think of spring, and spring is about life rejuvenating, coming back stronger and more beautiful. So, I guess the sun, for me, symbolizes a new beginning.”

He nodded, eyes flickering from the golden sun back up to your lips, how they curled tenuously, so smooth and petal soft. He had never thought of things that way before. New beginnings, rejuvenation, it all sounded faulty on the ears, but he supposed you had a point. Wonwoo had just found life to be a continuous loop of tragedies. They were encased in lead bullets, perfectly shaped to inflict the pain that cracked from one person to another.

“As for the moon…” you pondered, reaching deep into your mind for an answer. While staring at the silver crescent you were unsure of what to think, bringing Wonwoo’s words to recall.

Deaths, milestones, loved ones.

And then your head turned ever so slightly, eyes trailing along the boy who kept an abundance of patience covert under porcelain skin and onyx pupils. For the first time, your gaze hovered along his whole appearance, from his black jeans, his black t-shirt, his black hair. He really had a thing for dark colours, so dedicated too, amongst the hot weather bubbling outside. Yet you preferred not be so cookie cutter to everyone else, only examining Wonwoo’s surface and not the layer underneath. And then, like the morning mist had cleared, you could see it all.

The hues of sable that were silk ribbons in his hair, lashes long wisps of honey grass that feathered in breezes so subtle it could only be night time. His plump lips held the shallowest slope, perfect for loading lethal whispers that could only amount to sin, drolly syllables aimed at open hearts. But who could miss those eyes, so lacquered and mystifying. If you gazed into them long enough, you could swear you were under a sky of stars in the middle of the day.

But what those stars were missing was the moon.

“Let’s go with the moon piercing.” You decided confidently.

“Hmm? What made you choose so suddenly, huh?” Wonwoo asked, unsure of what summoned your wide smile.

“I was just thinking about what the moon symbolizes.”

Wonwoo smirked. “And what’s that?”

But you were not willing to shed any light on your conviction. If Wonwoo wanted to know, then he would have to do what you had simply done. Look. Now you had adapted to Wonwoo’s earlier position, being as candor as you could while leaning up to his ear, whispering in a tone so sickly sweet it made the boy’s stomach somersault.

“Figure it out, pretty, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo thought you needed some form of solace. After all, you lied back in the parchment covered chair with such stiltedness he found his heart aching. He sat on his little stool, rolling it toward the counter to pull out a new pair of black plastic gloves. Your eyes were trained to the way they stretched around his fingers, and though your mind was reeling with every thought possible, you quickly concluded that no one else could look so good while doing so.

“Scared?” Wonwoo asked. He had a tray set next to him, a bottle of sterilizer sitting alongside some cotton pads. Your arms were flat at your sides, threatening to twitch.

“No.” Your reply came out more breathy than intended, encouraging the slight head shake Wonwoo turned to you with. Twiddling your feet, you finally caved.

“Maybe a little.”

“You’re not very good at hiding it.” He remarked, eyes flitting down your legs to examine your feet bobbing in an invisible breeze. You shouldn’t be this nervous, this fidgety. Yet the secret was anything but hidden. It was Wonwoo who imbued such quarrels upon you, not the piercing itself.

He was slow in reaching for the bottle of sterilizer. “Do you want me to get Jeongyeon?”

“No, I’m just overreacting I guess. I know it will only be a little pinch.” He was really not a large help in soothing your heart, the genuine care that was ardent in his tone of brass a dear enemy. Your chest felt swollen just by the soft glisten in his darkly shaded eyes, how he glanced at the hem of your tank top.

“If you insist. Mind pulling up your shirt a little for me?”

He could have said just a little, why did he have to add for me? It was stupid you were tracing those thoughts, but they were persistent in painting themselves along every nook of your skull. You were overwrought, swallowing thickly while exposing the strip of skin. Yet Wonwoo held the same glow in his eyes, the cotton pad fresh with sterilizer now gliding around your navel. Instinctively your fists clenched, and Wonwoo chuckled.

“Cold isn’t it?” He hummed; his form leaned over your stomach.

“I guess it’s nice since it’s burning outside.”

You seemed less tense when you spoke, and as Wonwoo continued his gentle manner of swirling the cotton pad, he ambled off more questions. He also figured you could distract yourself. He noticed you rambled a lot.

“Don’t like the heat?”

“It’s not that I hate it, it’s just overbearing, especially today. The canteens love it though. I caught them selling lemonade cups for 13 goddamn dollars. I bought one of course, or else I would have fainted before I even got here.” Wonwoo grinned while wetting another cotton pad. This much sterilization wasn’t necessary, but the lilt of your voice was pretty to listen to.

“You should go swimming then.”

“The beach is packed. Have you ever walked down there during the summer?”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about the beach, Miss. Sassy.”

“Then what are you on about?” You wondered when he would finish with the bottle, with softly running the cotton around your navel. On the other hand it was calming the knocks against your chest, so maybe he should take his time.

But of course, Wonwoo proceeded to toss the pad in the garbage and quirk his lips at you.

“There’s a lake, stupid, if you follow Barley Street and don’t fork left, you’ll get a lake.”

You lifted your head from staring fuzzy dots at the ceiling and blinked toward the sable haired boy.

“Do you go there?”

He shrugged. “Quite frequently. Why? You wanna come with me next time?”

And then your head slammed right back down against the chair’s padding, cheeks already set ablaze with more than the sticky summer heat. Your tongue peaked quickly at your lips, tasting the lemonade you’d slurped like a madman earlier.

“You can go by yourself.”

Wonwoo grabbed the needle off his tray, smirking at the blatant tapping presented by your fingertips. He realized it was quite the riot teasing you, and that any aloof façade he pulled before people’s eyes had blinked away in an instant when it came to your tenuous smiles.

“Nah, it’s probably cause you can’t swim.”

“What!?” You barked in disbelief because that assumption was indeed false. Wonwoo had your moon piercing ready, staring at it one last time in puzzlement before leaning back over your stomach.

“I can swim just fine!”

“Prove it.” Wonwoo challenged.

“How so?” Your question was greeted with a placid sigh, one that tempted your nose to crinkle and fingers to absentmindedly clench. If Wonwoo ushered the words you were hoping to be conjured, you would simper so grandly that your cheeks would implode; your heart would feel so swollen that no amount of coaxing could calm it. You would itch to sprint home and bury your face in a plump pillow, bellowing away your elation.

So maybe it was a cleverly crafted idea for Wonwoo to convey the words while piercing your navel.

“What do you think? I’m asking your dumb, pretty face to go to the lake with me.”

For once he had pulled away with a grin concocted of malice and blithe, you were whining sharply. Yet it was just a pinch, a tiny, tiny pinch.

“You were right,” he beamed, “just a pinch.”

You sat up, eager to glaze upon the jewelry adorned to your stomach. It was pretty, and it symbolized ever so perfectly the twinge nestled behind the cherry walls of your heart.

“Yeah, it was just a pinch.” You drawled, still fawning over its soft glitter. Then your gaze was twinkling up, meeting in full bloom with Wonwoo’s eyes that portrayed the milky constellations above.

“And, yeah, I guess I’ll go to the lake with you, pretty Wonwoo. Or should I say Wonwoo that is pretty dumb.” You giggled, sticking out your tongue.

He picked you up at lunch in his Mercedes. No, it wasn’t an expensive car with a grey glitter coating and rims so polished you could perfect your eyeliner in them, it was more like about-to-be scrap metal that a barbecue dad would snatch for six-hundred bucks. You were sat on the stoop leading up to your porch when the cream coloured vehicle rumbled to a stop on the curb.

Wonwoo leaned over and pushed the door open for you, flashing a smile that decorated his plump lips of rose. You must have been quite the sight, wrapped in your sunset coloured beach towel, tongue flicking at your wrist as you tried to savour every drop of your watermelon popsicle. Sunglasses were perched on the top of your head, yet they only remained because if you attempted to tug them out a heap of hair would follow suit.

“Get your ass in the car!” Wonwoo shouted, beckoning you over with the air conditioner ruffling his up-do.

“Yikes, I’m coming. Let me finish this first!” You shouted back, eyeing the generous amount of popsicle that had yet to be swallowed. Wonwoo seemed like the type to bark a stream of never ending warnings not to get sticky juice all over his cheap ass leather seats and dash, so you did what anyone would do.

“How clever of you.” He remarked as you slid into the car, tossing your bag into the backseat. Your mouth felt encompassed in a cold burn, turning the delicate flesh numb and jabbing icicles into your brain. You tried to mumble a response, but it came out as the most incoherent thing ever spoken, the taste of watermelon drilling without mercy into your teeth. The sable haired boy set one hand on the wheel and slowly applied pressure to the pedal, his clearly expensive Mercedes now gliding down the street. Yet he feathered the brakes ever so gently when you rolled the window down and hung your head out, his brow quirking when globs of pink could be seen from the rear-view mirror.

“That was… Attractive.” Wonwoo mumbled, his hand disappearing into the glove compartment to fetch you a tissue.

“I’m glad you perceived it that way. Never again will I take my chances and try to deep throat nearly a whole popsicle. Some risky shit, almost lost my teeth.” You heaved while cleaning up your chin.

Wonwoo etched the air conditioning down and kept his eyes on the road, his deep laughter pervading the snug space of the car. “That would be an even more attractive sight.”

“Concurred.” You said with a grin.

So what did you learn about Wonwoo?

For starters, you learned there was a Jeon to his name, thus unraveling the annoyance he was soon to bear when you would cease to stop calling him that. You were both set to attend college once summer fizzled to an end, and you masked your excitement that he picked the same place as you.

He worked part time as a mechanic aside from his hours spent at the piercing shop, under the keen eye of his uncle who held wishes that Wonwoo would take over the business.

“I just fix engines, do some retouching on paint jobs, and tell the old ladies that their AC isn’t working because they pressed fog lights instead. Intense right?”

You fought with winding the sunglasses out of your hair. “Very. I don’t know how you manage to pull it off.”

Wonwoo’s thumb tapped against the dark leather of the steering wheel, his shoulders rippling in a shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know either.”

It was a sworn secrecy to never expose how your heart crackled at the thought, the appeasing view of Wonwoo in his mechanics jumper with the sleeves rolled up, grease smeared at the elbows and maybe a tiny dot on his nose. You pressed your lips together while staring out the window, observing the tan coloured buildings smear into a long strip of fuzz as your destination dawned closer. He would probably swear a lot, his willowy complexion set aglow with sweat as he accidentally burned his finger or screwed up something mechanical that you couldn’t possibly name.

You could envision him stuck underneath some grimy pick-up, firing every swear word off his tongue like a bullet, but then turn around and showcase his soft smile to an elderly lady who needed help with her air conditioning. The more you tortured yourself with the idea of mechanic Wonwoo, the more your insides melted in fashion to the popsicle left on the pavement, your cheeks feeling ripe and rosy.

What if I were his girlfriend? You randomly thought, already piecing together the heartfelt scene of bringing him lunch on his break, holding his chin ever so gently in your fingers as you wiped away the dirt and grease. His eyes that were so sleek and capable of imbuing fear within midnight would turn tender, glossy, his arms coiling around your waist and head snuggled against your stomach as you soothed him through a sweltering and irritable day. As Wonwoo forked to the left off Barley Street, he caught your tiny smile, the way locks of hair danced uncoordinatedly by your cheeks, instilling the epitome of sweet and peachy. Your lips were blooming bright in bubble gum, their smooth qualities beaming under sunlight spilt through the window.

“Whatchya smiling about?” Wonwoo posed, quickly gluing his eyes back to the road. Poignancy ballooned is his stomach when your voice became a ginger lull in his ears. He just wished he had of seen the curl to those lips as you spoke.

“You helping frail old ladies after swearing up a storm under a truck.”

The road dusted from dirt to bumpy gravel, trees beginning to paint emerald scenery through the windows of Wonwoo’s Mercedes. When you gazed out past the dash, you could catch glimmers of azure blue stretching wider and wider, dotting among tree trunks and blueberry bushes.

“It happens.” Wonwoo chided. The lake was growing before his eyes, every air freshener looped around his rear-view mirror bouncing due to the gritty roads. You had finally twisted the sunglasses out of your hair and tossed them on the dashboard when the vehicle rumbled to a halt, your jaw loosening in an ecstatic gasp.

“Holy shit, you have this place all to yourself?” You gushed after whipping your bag out of the backseat and shutting the car door. Wonwoo padded around to rest against the cream hood with you, letting his charcoal irises fleck across the lake and its dark blue beauty. Trees towered like skyscrapers around the water, shielding its glaze from anyone who didn’t suffer from wanderlust, anyone who didn’t crave the taste of pure sunshine and dew droplets on their tongue. Wonwoo cocked his head to stare at you, how the breeze drifted stray hairs to curl and twist. He even noticed the peculiar bump placed at the top of your head, and held in his chuckle at realizing it was a mark from your sunglasses.

He didn’t think when his fingers stretched out to smoothen it, garnering your wide-eyed stare.

“A few other people know about it, but I’m here the most often.”

You swallowed. How could someone look so gentle, so enchanting while conveying such a simple gesture. Something scorched up your neck and threaded hotly through your veins, making the mist that blew off the water appear like a snack to munch on.

“That lump would have fixed itself if we got in the water.” You simpered.

Then Wonwoo booped your nose, he fucking booped it.

“Maybe I just wanted to touch your hair.” He commented slyly. You bit the inside of you cheek.

“Was it at least soft?”

Then the sable haired boy had the audacity to grin, your heart smashing into your stomach when he began peeling off his shirt.

“Not really.”

You squinted in mock disdain toward him, mustering your every ounce of control to not bombard his lithely toned chest in swooning stares. To distract yourself you began copying Wonwoo, tossing your sunset orange towel to lie atop his Mercedes’ hood, kicking off your slip-ons with unnecessary vigor. For some reason, a simple mid summers drive to the lake turned into a competition of who could scramble down the sand faster, who could allow the cool balm of the water to wrap around their limbs first. Your toes met with the foam just before victory when you felt something sturdy clutch your shoulders, Wonwoo’s form sailing above you before he crashed into the water.

His impact sent you stumbling forward, until nothing but blue swirled around you and the slight taste of moss branded your mouth.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Water formed in a tiny spout flowing past your lips, bringing Wonwoo to warble without a care in the world.

“It was a race wasn’t it? I won.”

You pushed away the heavy hair curtaining over your eyes, sunlight splashing like gold paint along each ripple of azure. It was almost as though you were trapped in a painting, an image so lush and vibrant in colour sculpting the land. A belated reply finally poured through Wonwoo’s ears along with the water he knocked out of them.

“What if you screwed up and took my head off? Bet you would feel like such a champ then, huh?” You seethed back, though in reality, your lividness was wearing thin, hardly sustained as you wallowed in the beauty Wonwoo had kept to himself. Until today that is. The sable haired boy followed your gaze, knowing it was not gleaming at him, but the nature greeting you on all sides. Droplets were rolling off the tip of your nose, fingers stretching absentmindedly through soft peaks in the water. The sunlight seemed to like you, for it always brought a glossy flare to your lips, reflecting speckles of luminesce in your eyes.

“Ah, Y/N,” Wonwoo hums while treading toward you with his usual smirk, “I would never hurt you; never leave a single scar on any pretty part of you.”

Yes, Wonwoo says you are pretty. And he is not wrong.

Your lashes flutter when he floats around you, his nose just peaking above the surface. Flush tones of ruby coat your cheeks, his words cooed in a voice deeper than tree roots can knot themselves. You do not fare well under his midnight eye flitting, the way he attempts at circling you.

“You shouldn’t call just any girl pretty.” You remark, lowering yourself into the water yearning to protect you from the sun. “Dangerous stuff.”

Wonwoo managed to drift right behind you, his stare scorching up your back that glistened in clear droplets, to the string around your neck that ties up your bikini. He wonders how supple your skin is to touch, if it glides under his fingers like pearls and silk. You would probably smack him if he traced an innocent little line down your shoulder blade with his finger, though if he had you, he would not hesitate in doing so.

“I’m not calling just any girl pretty, I’m calling you pretty. I’ll take it back if it winds you up that much.”

He is met with your body whipping around, raindrops from your hair splashing his cheeks. You curl your lips at him, feigning innocence and everything sweeter than syrup. That is until you push water into his face, and Wonwoo’s nose is crinkling in the manner you adore so dearly.

“I’m just saying if you use it too much, it’ll loose meaning.”

Wonwoo cards the sable out of his lashes, fingers tangled in the thick strands and leaving them to stick up quite cutely. “Cocky. Are you expecting me to compliment you?” He splashes you back.

“No,” you cough, “it’s just a life lesson.” Hesitance does not mar you as your arm slaps across the glittery blue, wetting him in return. Wonwoo waddles along the squishy banks of sand beneath him, already preparing his next assault.

“Also,” you pipe up, “I can swim, so in your stupid face.”

“You’ve just stood there so far, not really swimming involved.”

“Cause if I try you’ll splash me!”

“Don’t act like you didn’t start it.”

“What?” You exclaim, jaw beginning to slack. “You practically yippee ki-yayed your way over my shoulders, so the blame is on you.”

“You’re just a bit feisty, Y/N. Anything getting under your skin lately?” You try to dodge his attack that is more than expected, but still end up with the taste of moss in your mouth.

“Maybe I’m just like that naturally, you assuming son of a bi-“

You do not get the opportunity to finish before Wonwoo splashes you again, and your cackles are swallowing the open warmth that basks the whole lake, slithers up the rocky cliff sides scattered about, and bustles amongst lime tree leaves. Time does not wait for you to stop floating like starfishes atop liquid linen, nor does it pause for even a moment when you cannonball off the rock jutting between oak trunks. It is continuous, ticking and ticking, though either you or Wonwoo are potent with enough care to disrupt your laughter.

He learns that you work part time at the florist shop in the centre of town, an abundance of your shift going toward grooming the petunias or watering the calla lilies. You tell him that you your boss gave you jean overalls to wear, and at first, you despised them. (His mouth remains shut even when his mind soars with images of you gardening in them, looking inexplicably adorable with dirt smeared cheeks he just wants to cup.) But then your mother cuffed the legs for you, she bought a sheer white t-shirt for you to sport underneath. He chuckles when you tell him about the snacks you keep hidden in their deep pockets, your face lighting up as relay your enjoyment while snipping the dahlias.

He keens to know more as you stride up the bank, fuzzy blotches of peach dotting the sky. You smile toward the ground when Wonwoo wraps you nice and snug in a towel burrito, his thumb brushing the liquid beads off your nose as your heart claps like thunder. You say there isn’t much more to spill about the flower shop, and you can’t help but study his pouty lips.

“Why are you so interested?”

“Y/N, I’ve been listening to conversations about spark plugs and transmission mufflers for what feels like a decade. I don’t mind hearing about the daffodils you watered for eight seconds.”

So you tell him, and his heart beats unprecedentedly fast the whole time.

Jeongyeon’s head of raspberry tea pops through the hatch in the rooftop, lips separating to coo for Jeon Wonwoo.

“Dad wants you to come sterilize the needles.”

He does not budge from his sprawled position across the dingy couch, a book propped over his face, though Jeongyeon recognizes the cover as one he’s read a million times, each word long encrypted into his brain. She calls again more sternly, her boot stamping against the rooftop. His eyes flit over for a second of examination before he spurns her to translucence, the gruff sigh that breaches his ears a common one.

He is oddly indolent, yet Jeongyeon does not think it is odd at all. She has known Wonwoo since playground escapades and the purloining of chocolate chip cookies; therefore she is well aware of his lackluster responses.

“Okay,” she huffs, lifting up Wonwoo’s gangly legs to sit comfortably on the couch, and supposes her father will have to wait, “why so glum, chum?” She still has no clue how Wonwoo was able to maneuver the patchy blue thing to the roof, but solving that mystery was for another day. When his reply is slow to dribble like molasses, she plucks the book out of his grasp and gets a responsive grunt.  

“What have I told you about grabbing my shit?” He snaps in his brass tone, snatching it back.

“I’m just trying to get your attention! You’ve been quiet all day, and I have my suspicions.” She quips in return, her stomach churning at his unexpected aggressiveness. Wonwoo didn’t mean to dampen her spirits, but he was sorting through musings in his head, pinpointing the flame that kindled the ache in his chest.

The boy’s head hits the arm of the couch, the spread of grey cotton across the sky cancelling any sunshine. But the lack of cheery light is not his reason for acting slightly petulant and intoned, and Jeongyeon frowns as he pushes his wavy fringe back with a sigh.

“It’s her.” Wonwoo mumbles, sounding like a poet who is suffering poignancy and imbued with forlorn. Jeongyeon pats his leg, an image already swallowing her mind.

Her voice is delicate as she answers. “Y/N?”

Wonwoo bites his lip, practically lacerating the puffy flesh with his ivory fangs. A hand falls behind his head, propping his stare from the ashy sky to Jeongyeon’s sympathetic glow. There is a twinge lodged in his chest, feeling like a corkscrew that twists and twists without resistance.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Wonwoo pauses, “about her, about anyone.”

“What happened?” Jeongyeon prompts, unable to halt her brows from furrowing. Maybe this is odd the way he’s acting. His eyes are usually so vacant in coatings of midnight black, but now they shimmer uncertainly, like they are wavering on emotions he does not comprehend. His fingers clutch in random spurs at sable spun hair, pulling subtly but enough to keep his mind grounded with Jeongyeon.

“We just hang out a lot now,” Wonwoo utters, repressing thoughts of the black hole that is college, how in less than two weeks he’ll have start more work, “and she’s making it really painful.”

Jeongyeon pursed her lips, fingers toying with the rip at Wonwoo’s kneecap. “Is she hitting you?”

“No…” Wonwoo manages to chuckle, tugging at his hair again. “It’s just the things she does.” His stare flickers straight back up to the sky, how it’s dreary, drowsy qualities reflect his mind turning to mush. His masochist of a brain wanders to the last time you hung out, every miniscule detail that crafts your presence triggering the jerk in his heart, how it slams without shame into his ribcage. He remembers it all, though it’s a pain the whole way through. Wonwoo catches Jeongyeon glance up too, and in that moment his lips spill like a waterfall.

“Fuck, her giggles are so cute, the way her cheeks get all squishy and how her hair falls around her face. I can tell when she’s trying to hold in her laughter, don’t know why, maybe she thinks it sounds weird, but it’s like music to my ears. Then there are her eyes which sparkle, they fucking sparkle, and when she stares at me I can hear my own heartbeat. Maybe that’s a health problem, I don’t know.”

Jeongyeon blinks down at him, the boy who is known for being impassive and cold, wearing a dark flint in his irises and a crook on his lips. She hasn’t seen such a sporadic look mapped along his features since elementary school, when they would ride their bikes through the forest trail and haul up pant legs by the stream. His voice is fluttering in different cadences, and the fingers woven through sable hair continuously fidget. Jeongyeon has never seen Wonwoo like this, her face as still as marble.

“You know those overalls she wears?”

Jeongyeon nods and Wonwoo bites his lip again.

“They’re so pretty on her, plus the worn out sneakers she has and the way she pulls her hair back. She isn’t aware of it, but she hums when she gardens, makes me wanna take her cute face and kiss her on her pretty lips, on her cheeks and her nose and her forehead. I just wanna sit her down and kiss the fuck out of her, ya know? Maybe run my fingers through her hair, tickle her thighs, buy her snacks, anything.”

At this point Wonwoo’s chest feels swollen and the crimson rushing through his ears is overpowered by an electric heartbeat. The world above him that is grey like winter slush and hollower than each crater on the moon has become a little brighter, yet it is you that made things appear that way, and not the clouds beginning to disperse. His lower lip is sore from each drag of his teeth, yet it does not register within Wonwoo’s mind. He continues to chew it, to take advantage of its plumpness as his eyelids encompass themselves in portraits of you.

Jeonyeong’s throat is dryer than sandpaper, the raspberry hair feathering her lashes a mere pebble compared to the boulder of information she just heard. She always teased Wonwoo about being afraid of commitment, every girlfriend he brought in and out of the piercing shop never hearing him utter the three sacred words that could permanently seal a relationship. They always left, yet he never seemed bothered. Then again, he had never spoken about any of them in the manner he just spoke about you.

“You know,” Jeongyeon said while gulping, “the first time you met her, and you didn’t wanna drop a single compliment. Now look at you.” Then she found a curl embrace her lips, turning their straight expression into a smile. “Kinda sounds like you lo-“

Wonwoo shot up from the couch, cupping a palm around her mouth. “You won’t tell her a single fucking word of this.” He growled. “And don’t say the L word either.”

Jeongyeon yanked his arm away, her eyes two pools of cocoa. “You have to tell her if you feel this way, don’t let her get away! Commitment isn’t always a bad thing you pussy.”

He ignored his best friend, threading a loose grip around her wrist and forcing their gazes to meet. “You will not say a word to her, understand?”

And Jeongyeon cracked, finally carding the hair from her lashes. “I understand your royal wimp.” She cackled, but not without getting a forehead flick from Wonwoo and his faint pink cheeks.

Your hands cupped the dark clay of the flower pot for the tenth time, turning it an inch more to the right and bobbing the flowers that sat brightly in the soil. Then you stood back on your knees and tapped a finger against your chin, examining their new position in the floral shop’s front window. It was difficult to tell which position looked better since you weren’t standing outside, but luckily, there was someone here who could assist you with that.

“Jeon Wonwoo!” You sang, getting up from your knees and dusting off your overalls. The boy sat on the counter, next to the register with a pink bubble blowing from his lips. It popped when he turned his head from the floral magazine in his hands, his curious gaze shifted from the glossy pages to melt over you.

“Will you do me a favour?” You entreated, swaying back and forth on the balls of your old sneakers. Sunshine splashed through the window and poured along your hair in a sumptuous shine, making it nearly impossible for him to ignore you.

“What would that be?” He responded while sliding off the counter, not bothering to mark his place in the magazine he’d been scanning. Maybe it wasn’t the magazine he was looking at in the first place.

“Can you go stand outside for a sec and tell me how these hibiscus flowers look? I’m trying to find their best angle.” You gestured toward the cream yellow flowers that sprang up from their pot, tiny dots of hot pink placed in the centre. They all looked the same to him, and he assumed they would look no different from outside the shop, but he’s learnt not to assume when it comes to you, so he chewed his bubble gum and headed into the summer warmth. He spared a quick glance at you through the glass, how your hands lie atop your hips as you scanned the flowers with a pinched brow.

He just spotted the fruit snack package peaking from the pocket of your overalls, and it made him smile. You were too cute for your own good.

“What is he smiling about out there?” You asked yourself as Wonwoo examined the flowers. “What’s so funny about a damn hibiscus plant?”

He gave you a thumb up through the window, but you mouthed for him to stay outside a little longer. In a flash you were back to swivelling the flower pot, and Wonwoo could only blow another pink bubble while shaking his head. Yet he kept his mouth shut and pulled off the best acting of his life, even taking a few steps back and cocking his head to perceive their bright colours better. People strutting past offered amused glances, grinning to themselves or their accomplice while the last week of summer drawled onward. 

You rested your hands on your hips again and stifled your dorky grin as Wonwoo leaned forward and squinted, creating an inconvenience for townsfolk ambling by. He looked quite nice that day, for his sable locks weren’t swept away from his forehead, but nice and fluffy in settling by his brows, creating an appearance that’s soft in lieu of intimidating. He had a loose grey sweater on, the sleeves bunched up to his elbows and its collar exposing fields of milk skin around the shoulders.

It was one of those days where you pretended your adoration for him was latent, hardly in bloom as he swung his legs cutely at the counter and pointed out all the flowers he liked. The stupid smell of his bubble gum followed you everywhere, sweet and sugary, thwarting you from concentration and preluding each lick of your lips.

Speaking of lips, you often wondered about Wonwoo’s. How they appeared silkier than some of the flower petals that lined the shop, how they always remained smooth and pink like roses. You sometimes wondered how they would taste, and you guaranteed that if you pulled him in by the collar and kissed him, bubble gum would explode quite delightfully in your mouth.

You eventually allowed him to come inside, and he approached you with a pinch to the stomach.

“Ow! What was that for?” You sulked though butterflies feathered your stomach, the stupid smell of bubble gum swarming you once again.

“Punk, making me stand outside for who knows how long just to put them back where they were originally.” He growled without malice, eyes twinkling playfully before he squeezed your side one last time. Your giggles were like stardust being shaken in a jar, so light and pretty Wonwoo craved to tickle you forever if it meant hearing them in a mantra. Yet he knew how fast they could develop into full blown cackles if the right joke were said, which was usually when you attempted to muffle yourself.

“I needed a second opinion, don’t act so salty.” You beamed back. Then, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the package of fruit snacks, giving them an enticing jitter.  

“Share to make you feel better?”

Wonwoo blew one last bubble with his gum before giving a nod.

“… Okay.”

So, together, you made your way to the garden outback and sat in front of the owner’s prized chrysanthemum patch, your fingers plying open the plastic and letting the colourful gummies tumble into Wonwoo’s palm. He had to throw his gum out, and you thought it was impressive he’d been chewing it since your morning arrival at the florist shop. You said you could buy him a whole pack, but he dismissed your offer, flashing you a coy smile while revealing the tiny container slipped up his sleeve.

“I took inspiration from your overall stash.” He purred, looking pleased with himself. Your hand lifted to Wonwoo’s head, fingers winding invisible ribbon through the dark strands while he threw his fruit snacks down the hatch.

“I feel so honoured.” You murmured, ruffling them without thought, a burst of strawberry washing the inside of your mouth. The boy stole a glance toward your complexion he adored to the moon and back, obsidian pupils curving along your wispy lashes and the slope of your nose. He traced the bump of your lips that were supple in a coat of watermelon chapstick, the hairs that were so incredibly thin along your cheeks being highlighted under the sun. He observed the way your feet twiddled, how skin peeked between rips in your pale blue overalls. His heart was aching again for some reason, and he pretended not to know why.

“You know what would be fun?” He heard you usher softly, the last fruit gummy popped onto your tongue. Your fingers pulled away from Wonwoo’s scalp, and he inwardly groaned, yet the disappointment was replaced with his deep chuckle.

“Tell me. What would be fun, Y/N?” Wonwoo felt his heart skip a beat when you scooped a lock of hair behind your ear, knees tugged against your chest as you eyed the chrysanthemum’s protruding their orange warmth. He could tell you were biting the inside of your cheek, pondering over the words caked behind your lips. Wonwoo peeled his gaze from you, and studied the flowers in similar fashion, the euphony of your voice becoming quieter, more sentimental. The usual summer breeze swept across the garden, an occasional petal fluttering high into the eggshell blue sky before settling back down to earth.

“Coming here with your kids, letting them run around the different gardens and take in all the sweet smells and colours. When I was younger, my mom got me an orchid seed and though she had to remind me a lot, I learned to take care of it. When it began growing, and actually blooming, I almost pissed myself.”

Wonwoo bit his lower lip while your voice trickled dulcetly through his ears, casting the faintest peachy glow to prickle along his porcelain cheeks. When you suggested the idea of something fun, he certainly wasn’t prepared to envision children scampering around the back gardens, stuffing their noses in the alluring petals and sniffing the pollen until they couldn’t stop coughing. Yet his lips still sprung at the mention of it, maybe because you felt it would be a precious moment, and that made the moment feel precious to him too.

“I looked after that orchid like my life depended on it. I watered it, left it in the sunshine. I played it fucking nature sounds at night, like creek water rushing between rocks and tree leaves rustling.” You laughed to yourself, sneaker scuffing over the ground.

“I think I named it something too. But I suck at names, so I named it after the first thing I saw, which was a dragonfly. Can you believe that, an orchid named Dragonfly?”

Wonwoo flicked his pupils after a flower petal rippling through the wind, how it spiralled in slow patterns down to burrow among the stone walkway. It was dark blue, and stood out like a sore thumb compared to the grey swathing around it. A pitiful sight that is, Wonwoo hummed in his head, something so beautiful by itself. His mind began thinking about the moon, and how strange it would look if the stars didn’t exist to accompany its glow of ivory. He was almost tempted to go pick the petal up and place it among a company much more welcoming than lifeless grey, but he repressed himself, and shrugged his shoulders.

“I can believe it actually. Sounds like a Y/N thing. You probably cried when it died, right?”

Wonwoo teased as the moon and stars plot floated at the back of his head.

“Of course, you know me well Jeon Wonwoo. So anyways, I was being a sulky baby over Dragonfly the orchid, sobbing to my mom all the things I could have done better to keep it alive. But she said that life could hurt sometimes, and that it was necessary in developing a dynamic character. Hard to believe at first, but sure enough I noticed a sprout pop up in Dragonfly’s soil some time afterward. I got two Dragonfly’s instead of one, and now that I had a second chance, I looked after them even better than before.”

You cocked your head in Wonwoo’s direction to come across his eyes glazed with their usual midnight lacquer. It was refreshing, similar to plunging off the cliff side at the secret lake and having a sudden coolness embrace your limbs. Charcoal fringe was mingling with his lashes, so you raised a ginger hand to swipe it away, lightly carding it back until his forehead shone through for a hot second. You were ready to indulge in another babbling spree when Wonwoo caught your wrist, his fingers pressing gently into the flushed skin and skyrocketing a heartbeat that was a timid slumber only a moment before.

“So your orchids were like your new beginning?” He questioned.

You smiled bashfully. “Yeah, they were now that I think of it.”

Silence began filling the gaps between you, birdsong and the buzz of bumblebees not registering in either of your ears.

“You remember the day you got your piercing?” Wonwoo asked out of the blue, his eyes never parting from your wrist. You quirked an eyebrow and swallowed a subtle breath, praying he couldn’t detect the pulse booming through every inch of you.

“Of course.”

“And you remember leaning in real close, whispering to me, telling me to figure out what the hell that moon piercing meant?”

“Mmhm.”

How could you forget, you had that day stored in a mental file, the day you met pretty Jeon Wonwoo. Nerves bubbled together like a chemistry mix in your stomach as you thought of how the silver crescent was still placed in adorning to your navel, elegant and flashy as always. You had known what it meant since the day you compared it’s qualities with the sable haired boy, yet you let him simmer with the unknown conviction. You couldn’t deny that it frightened you, that he may hold knowledge of the adoration that bloomed for him since day one.

Many sounds were barking around you, tree leaves rustling in unison, children gleefully laughing from tracing chalk outlines on the street, wind chimes tinkling in the near distance. Yet you could near none of it, not one measly little squeak. And it was all because of him. Jeon Wonwoo.

He leaned in close to you, the familiar tinge of blackberries that always hovered on his skin pervading your senses. Your wrist was practically shaking then, tremoring as his thumb stroked softer than a feather in an attempt to calm your frantic pulse. Burying yourself into the crust of the earth seemed like a fabulous idea as his lips so plump and delicate brushed against your ear’s cusp, deep voice vibrating from his chest and melting smoother than chocolate along your skin.

“Y/N, do you like me?”

Your body froze. Then it burst into flames. And then it froze again with every lick of heat sealed tight inside your chest, your limbs. When you invited Wonwoo to laze around the florist shop, you hadn’t planned for this whatsoever. And now your face was scorching, crackling without control.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” You breathed between quivering lips, your wrist most definitely shaking.

Suddenly Wonwoo pulled away, his free hand not marred by any hesitance to cup your cheek that almost burnt his palm. There his eyes were again, two midnight pools encompassed in stars.

And all they needed was a moon.

“You like making things harder on yourself, dontchya pretty baby?” Wonwoo crooned, his thumb painting just below your lower lip, tempted to pull down the soft flesh and smudge the rough pad with watermelon chapstick. You blinked directly into his stupid sparkly eyes and nodded, crumbling faster than teacake.

“Yeah, kinda.”

And then Wonwoo’s head fell to face his lap and he chuckled, the grip on your wrist faltering so he could thread his thick onyx strands back. He thought back to the rooftop of the tattoo parlour, to the dreary afternoon spent aching on the couch. Jeongyeon’s words hadn’t stopped chasing him, whacking him over the head without mercy. And there he was, sitting across from you before patches and patches of silk flowers and mirthful honeybees, sweet smells encasing the breeze and curling stray tendrils of your hair. He wanted you, so inconceivably bad that he couldn’t bear to laugh in disbelief to himself.

“Is this a good time for me to say something cheesy?” He heard you utter quietly, your pupils bloated wider than any galaxy and voice wrapped in tenaciousness. Wonwoo readjusted his palm on your cheek and grinned.

“Shoot.”

You hesitated at first, resistance and fear pooling like syrup into your gut, however it had been collecting for ages at the back of your mind, not willing to disappear. “We’re both sort of incomplete. You have all the stars but no moon, and I have the moon,” you looked toward your stomach, where your crescent was pierced, “but no stars.”

You turned your head to the side and blew out a breath of embarrassment. “God, this is so cringy, I don’t wanna say it.” The Sahara Desert had practically inhabited your face, sweltered up your neck. Wonwoo’s stare was soft, cool, yet you couldn’t face him directly.

“Well you are saying it.” Wonwoo quipped, brushing back your hair. “It’s just me, okay? Now spill.” He motivated with a pout, giving your cheek a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m basically saying we complete each other…” You spluttered out, heart abusing your ribcage so ferociously you feared it may crack like glass. Wonwoo’s palm fell from your cheek and curled into his lap, and he didn’t gain consciousness until you stood from the bench and threaded your fingers through his collar, shaking him. You had just shovelled such a grand amount of torture and weight off your shoulders, confessing boldly to the grumpy boy you met at the piercing shop, and his reaction was blander than flour. So maybe you felt a little bit riled.

“Okay I said it you stupid oaf! Are you happy, are you gonna go prance around to kingdom come and buy a megaphone to shout it to the streets?! I say my stupid, cringy, cheesy line and this is the reaction I get? You don’t even know, you don’t even have a clue as to how much I like yo-“

And then Wonwoo shot up from his seat, gripped you by the straps of your overalls, and tasted the sweet gloss on your lips for the first time. He kissed you.

He kissed you on that bench, surrounded by flaming chrysanthemums and every other flower you named so prettily but he could never remember, he kissed you until the sky replaced its eggshell blue with soft lavender, nipping and tugging and sucking until your lips were numb and your fingers couldn’t seek the exit from the maze of his charcoal locks.

Jeon Wonwoo had kissed you.

It was not responsible to distract Wonwoo when he worked, when the teal hood of a car was propped up and he plucked at grungy looking things that resided underneath it. You sat on a stool by the work bench, next to an array of shiny wrenches and wires twisting from weird box type mechanisms. He told you at least a million times to keep your dainty hands in your lap and not touch anything littering the table. When you provoked him with the consequences, he simply shook his head and smirked, returning to his work. Without much to do you repeated flattening out your skirt, tying and untying the laces of your worn out sneakers.

His voice echoed around the garage, alerting you that he was almost finished with fixing up the car’s engine and that you could go out and eat together.

“You’re washing up first.” He heard you balk, “As hot as you look with your hair pushed back and the occasional smear of grease on your cheek, we’re not going to some restaurant like that.”

Wonwoo’s head popped up, the back of his hand swiping along his forehead. “We can just order take-out, baby?” And then he was back to twisting and tugging things, a hand grabbing the light hung from the ceiling to brighten certain nooks and crevices. As much as you basked in sitting down and munching comfortably in each other’s presences, you hadn’t dug deep into your closet for a pretty lilac blouse and cream skirt just to laze around in them.

“C’mon, I put on this whole getup and spent an eternity smoothing out knots from my hair in the shower. I used up the last of my apricot conditioner! We definitely need to go out.” Yet your whining was squandered when you realized Wonwoo wasn’t listening, his eyes trained to fiddling with something deeper into the car’s hood.

Suddenly a crackle seared around the garage, your body instinctively flinching as Wonwoo’s hand shot from underneath the hood, his fingers waving about.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He hissed, throwing his head back and pacing around the room. It was then you noticed a slight red mark on the side of Wonwoo’s hand as he darted to shut off the car, the key yanked from the ignition. Your mouth fell open, but any words spoken were drowned out when he slammed the car’s hood down and released another string of curses from under his breath. If your relationship were just in the beginning stages, you would have cowered slightly, whispering at your heart to relax, but it had come quite a long way, and you knew his anger wasn’t directed at all toward you.

“That hurt like a bitch.” He growled.

A sigh tumbled from your lips as you slid off the stool, retrieving the first aid kit among the clutter of Wonwoo’s work bench. He sat on the car’s hood, feet resting on the bumper while he carded thick locks back with slender fingers.  He didn’t bother looking up when you approached him, yet he was forced to do so anyways with the glide of soft fingertips under his chin, holding the bone ever so carefully while you tugged free some cleansing wipes.

“You always tell me to be careful when you’re the one who ends up getting hurt. Now I have a puppy with a burnt hand. Tsk, tsk.” You murmured while decorating your lips with a smile, hoping to erase some of stress sticking like cobwebs to his every limb. Wonwoo allowed you to run the cloth along his forehead, in soothing strokes down his cheeks and the slope of his nose, your eyes shining with flecks of adoration and the softness he instilled in your chest. Not until he had been ridden from the grease and grime sticking to his complexion did you sit down next to him and fiddle for the burn cream, smirking at his dissuading whines.

“I can do this all myself.” He grumbled, watching you unscrew the cap and squeeze the gel substance onto the back of your hand.

“Shshshsh.” You crooned while planting a quick kiss on his nose, “Just let me help you at least once, okay?

Wonwoo squinted toward you, his lower lip jutting out slightly. Yet he knew of your persistence, how you yearned to bundle him in your affection, not to point where it became unbearable and embarrassing, but until chickadees were warbling pleasant melodies in his stomach, warming the cherry walls of his heart. It brought him to smile, rose lips tilting upward in infinitesimal movement, for if he allowed himself to smile any wider you might pounce on him. Your chin steadied on his shoulder, peaking down at the darkening burn on his hand.

You were quiet, wallowing in the tranquil silence that bathed the garage, Wonwoo’s fingers curling and uncurling as you soothed his injury with the cooling gel. It may have stung a little, but your touch was cautious, gentle, assuring his recovery and that it wasn’t something to lose sleep over.

“See?” He felt your breath tickle his ear, “All better.” Wonwoo hummed in reply, knowing you still had to protect the burn with the bandage you discovered.

“Bam.” You said smugly. “I’m a healing wizard.”

The sable haired boy turned his hand back and forth while you returned the first aid kit to the work bench, admiring the neatness of your bandaging. It was something anyone could have done, but when it unravelled under your touch and the love that simmered in your heart, Wonwoo felt as though no one could have fixed him up any better.

“Can I at least get a thank you? I mean sure you could have been humble and did it yourself blah blah blah, but ya didn’t! Your really amazing girlfriend made everything dandy and she still really wants to eat.” You chirped while twirling in front of Wonwoo, accenting your skirt.

“I mean this outfit is really nice too, but I guess I can’t complain if you still want take-out seeing as you burnt yourself and everything.” Wonwoo remained on the hood of the car, elbows resting atop his knees and gliding his midnight stare after your very word and twirl and smile. You were right; your outfit did look nice, very nice.

“Y/N?” You halted in swaying from side to side, plucking at the pale lilac colour of your blouse.

if you don’t like smut, keep scrolling until you recognize this line!

“Yeah?” You replied innocently, lashes swishing down and up. Wonwoo was marvelling over you in an ardent stare, two orbs of white glistening like tiny snowflakes in his pupils. His voice that had always been encompassed in brass managed to drop lower, sweeping along the dark ocean floors as he wiggled his finger at you.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” The four syllables practically dripped from his lips, warning you it was perilous to approach him, yet they held a certain nuance that urged you to step closer, the innocent smile that framed your face wiped straight off by the grip he installed around your wrist.

The next thing you knew, your back was flush against the car’s teal hood, Wonwoo’s arms placed on either side of your head as your legs automatically latched onto his waist. Your breath was staggered between parted lips, shaky during its journey to breach the air, your heart pumping at an unprecedented level while you could say nothing, do nothing but feel Wonwoo’s gaze devour you whole.

“Your outfit does look really nice.” He taunted you with his whisper, lips ghosting at your ear’s cusp, “But it would look so much better if I ripped it off of you, hmm?”

You couldn’t help but squirm against him, your arms that had been lying limp beside your head now settled on Wonwoo’s shoulders, giving them a subtle squeeze. The top part of his jumpsuit had been unbuttoned, peeled to rest around his waist so a white t-shirt could shine through. It was of course smeared with blotches of grease, and it became the principal scent to hover around you. Not entirely pleasant, but the stars swirling in Wonwoo’s eyes were sufficient in distracting you, tempting your thoughts to entre lascivious realms.

But Wonwoo was at work, and he needn’t dwell in distractions.

“Why now?” You squeaked, not able to shovel aside the heat bubbling in your stomach. The risk factor was enormous, yet an almost inaudible voice cooed at the back of your skull, encouraging you to continue, to keep the sable haired boy’s body pressed tightly against your own.

“Because I really can’t stand to watch you parade around in a skirt so fucking short and a blouse so see through. We can go out if you want, I don’t care, but if others are gonna see you in this then they’re gonna know who you belong to.”

He breathed hotly against your neck, palms cascading in hunger down your thighs, slipping underneath them and pressing forth the indent of crescent moons. You felt responsible if his uncle were to amble in and have such a sight mar his vision, but the husk adorned to Wonwoo’s tone was not in one bit unfamiliar. He had spoken using the same assertiveness when his clients at the piercing shop dug under his skin, when his uncle assigned him to rewire another car or take over three paint jobs supposed to be done by other workers. It was the tautness of not getting payed enough for his efforts, that college was not too generous with its work load.

It had all been accumulating, festering. Wonwoo often hid his stresses from you, but there had been more than one occasion where he burned for an outlet, fingers curling attentively around the column of your throat, a voice rumbling in cadences low and rough warning you to keep quiet as his hips slammed into your backside, the lewd act sheltered by a dressing room. He would never tell you he was stressed, but it broke through quite clearly when he would cease your conversations and eye you with glossy irises, intent scribbled through the manner of his tilted brows and tapping fingers. At first you may have been nervous, but by now it brought excitement to course through your veins, to create a coil of anticipation.

And at this moment Wonwoo was stressed, your doubts ebbing away piece by piece. You could understand that, the car he’d been prodding at for who knows how many hours refused to work, his hand just got crisped, he still had your date to worry about, college studying to swallow. He was plating it all, which meant bruises impossible to cover with concealer for you.

“So who is it?” Wonwoo crooned lowly into your neck, his lips attaching to suckle a patch of skin ever so gently. “Who is it that you belong to, baby?”

A hand slid from his shoulder to run through his hair, tangling within the sable locks and twisting them with enough intent for him to nip below your ear.

Your lips parted, a breathy answer slow to roll off your tongue. “You.”

Wonwoo ran his nose down to your shoulder; inhaling the vanilla body wash you adored so much. His palms mapped along your thighs he could never squeeze and scratch enough, slipping under your skirt and making a slow crawl toward the silk waistband of your underwear. How lucky he was that you’d chosen a skirt.

“You can do better than that, baby.” He hummed, your head titled back with the kisses he planted up your throat, taking his sweet time in nipping polished enamel along skin so soft and warm. Eventually he was at your lips, licking slowly into your mouth until your fingers grew like a python strangling his hair, your hips twitching upward to brush in want against his.

“Tell me who you belong to.” Wonwoo entreated again, his voice heightening in demand. You felt like a kitten as you mewled against his lips, every trace of sly fingertips under your skin nothing but a skim, a tease to get your centre aching.

“I belong to you.” He heard your voice crack when his free hand slapped underneath your thigh, clutching the meat and curving into its suppleness with blunt fingertips. Lust was brewing like a potion within his every fiber, the heap of stress he kept bottled beneath tendrils of assurance beginning to melt free. Wonwoo pulled your lower lip; not at all shy to prelude it’s swelling by the use of his teeth. Satisfaction had yet to blaze within his eyes, your weakening voice pleasant, but still not enough. And then Wonwoo kissed you one last time, his lips adapting a much softer rhythm in lieu of nipping and sucking. His head was lifting away, your lips mindlessly chasing after his with sparklers igniting before your closed eyes, imbuing the familiar waves of ecstasy.

When he’d teased you into a sitting position, your legs still curled around his waist, did he bunch together every strand of your apricot hair, forcing your head back.

“We’re gonna try this again, okay?” He whispered with peculiar dulcet qualities. It was difficult to nod with his fingers woven so tautly through your hair, yet you attempted anyways, something sticky ruining your favourite pair of silk underwear as he demanded you turn around. Wonwoo hovered behind you, your eyes glued to the windshield of the car and how you reflected in the glass, your lips swollen, hair a twisted mess, the sable haired boy’s favourite. Your knees pressed into the car almost uncomfortably, but you had no choice with Wonwoo’s body slipping right behind you, a distinct hardness brushing your back.

Through the reflection you could see his smirk, your breath bated as you knew it was him wondering of all the ways to summon your whines.

And then he acted upon one of them, your body suddenly bent over the hood of the car, his hand taking refuge in your locks once again. A finger trailed up the back of your thigh, tracing circles and stars, shooting shivers to prickle down your spine and tiny valley’s to erupt from your flesh. However you knew the game had really started when Wonwoo flipped up your skirt, his fingers twitching ever so infinitesimally in your hair as the view of your silk soaked underwear and legs sinfully parted washed across his vision. It took every ounce of self-control he could muster to not rip each piece of measly fabric off you, to take you right then and there, his fingers tugging your head back as he slammed his impatient length into your walls so slick and hot.

You heard him groan, and right before you could speak up, he slapped a palm across your ass, the smack of skin against skin rippling around the garage. Wonwoo leaned over you, his musky scent driving your heart to slam more vigorously into your ribcage, so unfathomably fast it could probably dent the hood of the car.  

“I’m gonna ask one more time, baby.” He growled into your ear, his voice the perfect mixture of gritty and smooth. “Who do you belong to?” You were more than ready to spill his name like a mantra, to scream it if he asked you, the desire that scolded your insides so thoroughly only containing the concept of pleasing him, washing away his stress. So with a little quirk to your lips, you opened your mouth to respond, but it was not a word that came out, but a moan.

The rough pads of Wonwoo’s index and middle finger were coming into contact with your clothed clit, rubbing lazy circles upon the sensitive bundle and applying enough force to make your thighs quiver, heat amplifying in your stomach. He only pressed harder when you didn’t respond, his voice crackling by your ear.

“Who the fuck do you belong to!” He hissed, his hand untangling from your hair to harshly slap against your ass. Your whole body jolted, jittering underneath him as he dragged his fingers to prod up your slit before circling your clit again. You were positive your whole outfit would be ripped to shreds by the end of his high, your high, as many highs as he could force you to reach.

“Wonwoo!” You belted when he ripped away from your backside, his hands tearing the drenched silk from your legs, the growl of ripped fabric slicing through the air and causing you to whine against the car’s hood.

“I belong to Jeon Wonwoo!” He spread your legs even further before his fingers found your slick again, rolling across your rose bud in figure eights and making the occasional dip to your slit. Finally the answer he’d been longing to hear, the name you could pester with calling him all day long, but hesitate to when had you keening to the stars. Wonwoo was back over you in an instant, the lewd noises his fingers were creating casting a lurid sheen to encompass your cheeks.

“That’s right, sweetheart, every pretty part of you belongs to me, every pretty part of you gets ruined by me, and then every pretty part of you gets taken care of by me. You understand?”

Boy, he was stressed alright.

“Yes.” You could barely afford to choke, his lips making the occasional kiss to your ear as he spoke. His fingers drag your gloss up the inside of your thighs, satisfied at how he felt them quiver and shake, but nothing licked warmth to his chest more than hearing you mewl, the heel of his palm rubbing sins into your clit. Wonwoo doubted he had ever wanted you so bad before, the emotions popping in his stomach so intense that he had enough energy to pound on the car’s hood more than once as well as the backseats and rear.

Amongst pulling your hair and soaking his fingers in your arousal, a brief moment flashed before lust tinted irises. The views he snagged of you during your first drive to the lake, his adventures alongside you in the floral shops garden, and the ache in his chest after going home from your first kiss.

Wonwoo may have been engulfed in lust, want, a burning need to dissolve his stress, but he also cared about your feelings too, the rapid pace you jumpstarted his heart with. You were surprised to hear his gravel tone soften during your escapade for pleasure, his palm slowing down on your clit ever so slightly so you could focus on the burst of radiance that glowed in your chest.

“And every pretty part of you is loved by me, okay? Every single fucking part of you, my baby, I love more than anything.”

Jeon Wonwoo loved you; he loved you like the stars love the moon.

So where did it all go wrong?

smut over! sorry this line is so short im typing to make it longer blah blah

You were occupied with washing the dishes. Bubbles were swallowing the sink, popping in claps of lemon as you dragged a sponge up and down your plate. The television hummed in the background, displaying the scenes of some spy based show you could never get into, yet Wonwoo always babbled about the latest episode to Jeongyeon when you all hung out on campus. You didn’t take a liking to sitting there in silence, munching down fries or sipping from your canteen as their excited chirps echoed around the room. Forcing yourself to sit through hours of footage that went in one ear and out the other wasn’t your ideal night, but you put yourself through it anyway.

After placing the dishes back in the cupboards, you bounced on your sofa a few times and raised the volume on the television. You thought you might be getting into the plot just a tiny bit when your phone began vibrating, the screen flashing with bundles of text. Heaving a sigh, you swiped it off the coffee table and realized it was just nothing more than Wonwoo and Jeongyeon exchanging details surrounding the show, details you were all absorbing with your own eyes, so you were clueless as to why they were updating each other on every second that passed.

“I’ll never understand their friendship.” You chuckled to yourself, about to shut your phone off when something caught your eye, the date. There it was, gleaming back at you and staining white light along your face, yet you were a bit clouded over as to why it snagged your attention so much, the measly appearance of a number and a month. But then it hit you, coalescing into one grand realization that brewed stiltedness in your stomach.

Wasn’t I supposed to get my period like five days ago?

You chewed into your lower lip, opening the calendar app and scrolling through all the months that had dotted past. Memories were filming by in your mind, portraying an episode more thought provoking than the one hogging the television screen. You remembered getting your period for the last few months because it struck during such inconvenience, but at this time, you hadn’t even received a sign of it.

It was impossible for you to not jump to conclusions, eyebrows furrowed as you pinpointed your last moment of intimacy with Wonwoo. Everything was there; the foil packaged being ripped, your fingers scrolling it down his length as you sat at the edge of the bed. The chances of getting a faulty condom were quite low, yet you were positive, absolutely positive nothing had slipped through. By now the texts shared on the group chat were white noise to your ears, nothing consuming you more than the anxiety steeping in your gut.

It’s probably just late, Y/N. You assured yourself, that’s all it is, your period is late.

Your giggles echoed down the corridor as you unlocked the door to your apartment, the key clicking before it was right back in your pocket. Wonwoo hovered by the doorway as you kicked off your shoes and shook out your aching feet, a long day of exploring the town making an appearance through the drag in your bones. He curled his rosy lips at you, bringing your heart to float on a sea of feathers, a factor that never died away or changed in the slightest.

“Goodnight.” He purred when you wrapped your arms around his neck, inhaling his forever lasting scent of blackberries that made you feel at home, diminishing any stresses or worries. Your fingers ruffled through his thick fluff as you parted, scattering the fringe before his eyes until he pinched into your side.

“Goodnight, love!” You half yelped, half cackled as Wonwoo took a few strides down the hallway. He began walking backwards, blowing a kiss off his lips that he wouldn’t ever fathom doing if in public. Of course you played along cheesily and caught it, his wave the last thing you fawned over before he disappeared into the elevator. You shut the door and ended up in the bathroom, turning the shower handle and allowing the cool water to splash against the tiling as you undressed. A soft tune lulled in your throat, one that had played in Wonwoo’s cheap ass Mercedes during your late night town travels. You couldn’t stop replaying the flashes of his smile, of his arms curling around your waist and head nuzzled into your shoulder during the long wait for churros.

By the time your shirt was a limp clump on the floor, you stared down at your stomach, admiring the silver crescent that still sparkled as brightly as ever from your navel. You were gentle in taking it out for your shower. It was expensive material, so it wouldn’t rust, but you had grown to treasure it so much you wouldn’t dare wear it swimming or bathing as frequently as before. However, when it was safe on the bathroom counter and your last articles were tossed, did you notice something strange.

Your stomach was a bit bloated, more rounded than usual. And then your eyes dared stray to your underwear, how they were spotted with dark red dots. It definitely wasn’t the first time you’d noticed this. In fact, the longer you stood with the shower gushing precious warm water, steam enveloping the room and fogging the mirrors, did you gulp down the lump in your throat, the ball of overwrought emotions and consternation that tripped your breathing.

But when, your mind belted, it’s impossible, it’s fucking impossible.

And with shaky fingers that struggled in dragging open the shower curtain, you dismissed the possibility that was painted in bold.

I am not what I think I am.

Wonwoo was too enthralled in the yoyo he won at the pancake lunch to pay notice to your shuffling, how after classes finished you made a beeline for the convenience store to supposedly wrack the shelves for toothpaste and plastic cups and tea bags. He never noticed you scribble down a fake list in the corner of your calculus notebook and tear it out, brushing the hair from your cheeks as you handed it to him on your departure from class.

“Can you look for this stuff? I have some things of my own to get.”

Wonwoo’s eyes darted over the list impetuously, his yoyo still flicking by his side. His nose crinkled, pushing up the silver spectacles he wore before nodding.

“M’kay.” He accepted without batting an eyelash. “Meet you at the counter.”

You swayed him with a sweet smile that accents the pink gloss on your lips, the reflection of white light twinkling in your eyes, and Wonwoo is smiling back, the yoyo finally ceased of its constant spinning.

He tapped your nose, which you learned was the equivalent of a kiss, making that first day at the secret lake a memory littered with blushing. While the sable haired boy was distracted with seeking out items you didn’t quite need, you were zipping between each isle, heart hammering like a drum in your chest until the shelves that smelt of baby powder pulled you in. Your breath was ragged as you make contact with the tiny white box, smooth against your fingertips yet imbuing fear to root through your body. The outline of a mother with a swollen stomach is slapped on the front, her hand cradled under the melon like bump.

You could not afford to stare any longer. Very hastily you darted to the self-check-out on the opposite side of the store, the crimson sloshing through your ears a constant balk to not squander a single moment in covering the box from any curious eyes. You heard the beep, the intoned voice of the machine drawling to you for what felt like ages. Finally it was done, the deed was over with as Wonwoo popped out of an isle and blinked at you, each item bundled in his arms.

“Where are the things you got?” He prodded while flicking his yoyo again.

“I realized I don’t really need them.”

Wonwoo pouted, his plump lips wiggling at you. “Well do you still want this?”

You could feel the box press against your arm, digging into your flesh yet concealed by the oversized sleeves of your jacket. Your hand brushed against Wonwoo’s cheek before selecting the tea bags among the other items in his hold.

“Let’s keep the tea.”

And then the sable haired boy was grinning, arm latching around your waist and turning you back to the self-check-out. His fingers lingered around your elbow, dangerously close to the box pressed up your sleeve.

“You feel kinda tense, babygirl.” Wonwoo said softly. “Everything alright?”

You leaned your head into his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Everything is perfectly fine, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Except it is the opposite, and with your head so preciously tucked against him, it was impossible for him to see the glassy lacquer in your orbs, the slight scar on your lip from biting it too much.

No, everything is not fine.

Everything is far from it as you stand outside your apartment door, palms resting comfortably on Wonwoo’s shoulders as he peppered your forehead in feather light kisses, whispering you for to sleep without worries, reminding you that the moon he loves and yearns to engulf in sugar spice and everything nice will always be you. He may have sensed that something was off, shifted into darkness that he cannot light up, so Wonwoo tried his best to kindle warmth within your chest, and soothe your heart that had been twisted and pulled in every direction.

He cupped your cheeks and placed his lips atop your own, whispering three words you had come to hear so often, yet melted with each breath they were spoken in. Wonwoo tapped your nose before gently shutting the door, leaving you to stand in silence, to make yourself some tea and slip under rumples of linen.

Or so he thought.

In reality you were rummaging through your jacket, you were sprinting to the bathroom and tearing open the stupid white box without hesitation. Your mind was blank as you sat over the toilet seat and waited, tendrils of hair spiralling before your eyes and a sickening thump drilling louder than steel against steel in your ears.

But nothing was louder than the sob that cracked from your throat when you leaned against the bathroom sink and grazed into the two pink lines ever so present on the stick, the two pink lines that burn your flesh in hues of dread.

Burn. Burn. Burn. A burnt hand. A teal blue hood. A lilac blouse paired with a cream skirt, swiped from bruised flesh in such a bold lust that there is no time to think about precautions.  

You are pregnant. You are carrying Jeon Wonwoo’s child.

Every single moment spiralled back to that day, all blooming from your encounter at the piercing shop, your exchange of different symbolisms, the heat flushing your cheeks as the most handsome boy you’d ever seen teased you about not being able to swim. The drive in his eggshell coloured Mercedes that brought you to hurl your watermelon popsicle out the window when swallowing it whole was not the most intelligent option, your daydreaming of his part time job as a mechanic, sunlight bathing across your features as the boy admires you in secrecy. Water encasing limbs sticky in summer heat, droplets of azure splashing into the air as you jump from slabs of rock.

It’s the gushing of one another in private, swooning and suffering in the misery of unfilled heart ache until you’re seated before flaming orange flowers and the urge to taste each other’s lips is simply too strong. The moments could scroll forever, yet they all dwindle down to the darkest that had been waiting for its chance to pounce.

You’re back to a curse word slipping toward the floor, a hand shifting to hold your stomach as you look him in his midnight eyes and articulate as clearly as you can. You show him the pregnancy test, the online pages you’d bookmarked, the swelling of your stomach. Your cheeks are hot and damp as you explain to him the spots in your underwear, the period you never got, the cramps that seize your stomach with jabs of pain. Wonwoo can only thread fingers through thick onyx strands, his eyes stretching wide.

“Y/N, how could this happen?” He stutters, speaking into his hand. You can’t look at him for a second longer; the dismay slacked into his features causing your eyes to grow glassy.

“Pretty sure it was the day at the garage, we were in such a haste to get things done, we forgot protection…”

Silence sticks to every corner of the room, most definitely laughing at the both of you, though you could never hear it. But even the mocking silence cowers when Jeon Wonwoo booms out a curse word, his deep voice striking your heart like a shot of lightning.

“We can’t be parents, Y/N!” Wonwoo says while pushing his hair back, visibly confused, frustrated, petrified.

“We’re two dumbass college kids who can barely look after ourselves! We have so little money; we would have to work our asses off to pay for that child, to give it the life it deserves!” He shouts, reaching the pinnacle of his lamentation. Your fingers are clenching, the hand that rests atop of your stomach twitching to ball up. Wonwoo does not expect you to take a step forward, though he does not expect you to lie limp and bawl salty pearls either.

“You think I don’t know that! I didn’t ask to get pregnant either Wonwoo, but that’s life and life fucking hurts sometimes! I know we don’t have a lot of money, I know there’s a lot on both our plates and that we would have to work so goddamn hard to support this child, but it’s here and it’s growing and neither of us planned for this but it’s time we damn start!”

He thinks about the story of the orchid.

There is nothing more you can say, nothing more you can do before Jeon Wonwoo’s eyes turn just as glassy as yours. Your mind is blank, though you frantically keen for more words to howl, to make him understand that this new chapter of your life deserves to be embraced no matter how unexpected it may seem. He clearly needs time to think, a moment to clear his head that refuses to stop spinning. Neither of you have anything to shout at each other, for it would go through one ear and straight out the other.

Wonwoo glances toward you, his eyes quickly dropping to your stomach that is indeed bulging the more he examines it.

“I need to think…” He breathes out in a tone so strained you wish you could take the best years of your life back. However that is a fool’s way to think, and you are not a fool.

But are you human and the pain of him closing the door as he exits your apartment proves that more than anything.

“This might disappoint you but, that’s the end.” Your voice was a lilt that drifted from the terrace, echoing into the fresh air of midnight and the misty noises that sounded from cars running up and down the street. The hand that rests ever so thoughtfully on your stomach etches for the first time, curling into the fabric of your oversized t-shirt. You sniffle, and it is then you realize the apples of your cheeks are glistening under moonlight, damp in the memories that stem from a summer too fateful and wrapped in bliss.

There is pain that lingers too, that Jeon Wonwoo had been absent in your life for nearly a month, his face hardly spotted flipping pages in the library or typing a report under the sakura tree that blooms on campus. You hate to admit you miss him, but how could you not when he presented you so much? When he kindled warmth so vibrant in your chest you couldn’t sleep because of it?

“I just want to let you know, Airplane,” you murmur, teeth briefly sinking into the laceration that was practically permanent on your lower lip, “That you shouldn’t be angry at your father. As much as you may want to be, your arrival had us both in shock, and he needed time to process things. Perhaps how life would be if you were in it, if you weren’t.”

You patted your growing stomach, aiming a smile toward the tiny human who listened to your long tale so intently and quietly, absorbing every detail and monitoring the different cadences your voice fell into when referencing something happy, something sad.

“Airplane, do you like flowers?” You ask while blinking toward the sky, pupils reflecting the milky threads of constellations and the silver crescent that does not suffer ineptitude when the challenge is to shine brightly. Silence is greeting your question, and it makes you smile.

“I think you’ll grow up to like flowers. Maybe orchids, maybe hibiscuses, maybe even chrysanthemums. I can teach you a lot about them, I promise I won’t make it boring.” The temptation to laugh at yourself bubbles for a moment, because how crazy do you sound right now? Alone, at the hour of midnight, rambling on and on to an unborn baby named Airplane about first love and piercings and flowers. Anyone who happened to be awake and gazing upon the satin sky as keenly as you would hear your conversation and furrow their brows, rub their hollow eyes to rid them of stardust and potential lucid dreams. 

They might seek themselves out to be the crazy one.

Or maybe they do not think you’re crazy, but just happen to be the tiniest bit strange.

“If you end up being allergic to flowers, I’ll show you books. If you don’t like books I can show you music. And if you don’t like music…” You warbled while twiddling your thumbs, a curl suddenly forming along your lips.

“I’ll show you how a spark plug works, I’ll show you how not to confuse your fog lights with your air conditioning. I can demonstrate the perfect cannonball, and show you tricks on a yoyo. I’ll try to learn everything so I can show you everything.“

“How does that sound?” A deep voice mumbles from inside the garage, reading glasses about to slip from the bridge of his nose as he flips the next glossy page of the magazine. His eyelids are droopy, yet they are determined to absorb every word they run across, to learn every secret that the pages have to offer. He hears his uncle call out from underneath his truck.

“What did you say, Woo?”

The sable haired boy cocks his head around from his work bench, watching his uncle slide from underneath his pickup, grease stains smudged along his face and gloves.

“Nothing.” The boy responds, flashing the older man a slight smile. “Just talking to myself.” He then faces the magazine pages again, his desk lamp attracting moths to flutter inside from the open garage door, starlight bathing the scenery dotting outside. The page flips, and he immediately recognizes the silk texture of the petals, the hot pink splash in the middle.

“Hibiscus!” He beams triumphantly, “That’s a hibiscus flower!” And he is correct too, yet his uncle just has to butt in again.

“What’s up with you kids and talking to yourselves?” He grumbles from underneath the truck, “You sure are a strange bunch.”

Though the boy hardly hears him through the glee that bursts in his chest, the light glimmering in his pupils of midnight, for he is too swept up in the fact that he’s making progress.

“I told you I’m learning, Sun.” He made sure to whisper much lower, for his ears only. “Once I learn about all these flowers, I just have to learn about everything else. I mean, your mother could teach you about flowers, but she can also teach you about spark plugs too. I can only do one, and I can’t have her besting me like that.”

The boy’s uncle could still hear him mumbling to himself, the old man’s eyebrows beginning to pinch together before he slid from underneath the truck and wiped his forehead with a damp cloth, willing to pester his nephew just one last time.

“Why on earth are you whispering to the sun, Wonwoo? Gosh, you’re quite odd, aren’t you?”

Not a single answer swallowed the silence that brewed, Wonwoo’s uncle eventually giving up and retiring all his tools to his own work bench, leaving his peculiar nephew to contain his conversation with the currently nonexistent fire ball in the sky. A yawn stretched off the boy’s lips, hardly paying notice to the moth that perched in his fluffy locks of sable, peering down at the magazine alongside him.

“I’ve gotta learn everything so I can teach you everything. I won’t let her do it on her own, that’s too much work. She has to take care of herself first.”

Wonwoo let his chin rest in his palm, eyes glazing along each snapshot of a flower different in colour and shape, memories of light blue overalls and worn out sneakers and fruit gummies tinting his mind.

“She’s really pretty too, Sun. You’ll be pretty like her too, whether you’re a boy or a girl.”

It was getting late, and though Wonwoo felt drowsiness and indolence slowly begin to encompass him, he shook the feelings away, scaring the little moth from his hair. He couldn’t afford to let you down again, to witness such pain mar your features and turn your curled smile into a frown. This unprecedented chapter with you was exactly what he needed, and after pondering for hours and hours on the roof of the piercing shop, skipping classes and meals and work, could Wonwoo say confidently that he wanted this, he wanted you. He was in love with you.

But he also wanted his little baby who he had given the nickname of Sun, because as you once said, the sun symbolizes a new beginning, and what better way to commence in this new beginning than with a family.

✎ hi, it’s choco typing from the grave, hope u enjoy, stay hydrated, eat ur vitamins, lov wonwow. peace. 

[thepeakmoment]

More Returns

Here's a superb podcast on Peaks. May 30 is the most recent episode. A great listen. Counter Esperanto Podcast: Tangents About Twin Peaks: 10th Secret: The Return

On Tue, Jun 13, 2017 at 1:53 PM, Dom wrote: I'll check it out tonight.

So my Diane prediction was on the fucking money.

I got another theory I'm working on.

Who's the mysterious billionaire? I heard some people say it may be Audrey Horne. I heard some people say it is Jack (John Justice Wheeler). I heard some people say it is Phillip Jeffries or Evil Cooper.

Put on your tinfoil hat for this one. The Billionaire is Leo Johnson. He lived through his spider ordeal. Then he took everything that Windom left behind (notes, computer files, other assorted Windom things) and built a criminal empire. I find it very hard to believe that the fucking casting director's son who was in the 1st two seasons and the fucking movie is NOT in this one.

The secret history of twin peaks tells us what happens to a bunch of characters like Leo. For instance Hank dies in prison. But not one word in the book about Leo? I got to believe that he lives and he’s not just a slobbering fool any more. I know this is probably not going to happen. But that's my theory.

I cannot imagine Leo is a rich billionaire — how did he make his money? A theory that makes sense I’ve heard on EW TP podcast that it could be BOB-Cooper attempting to catch Good Cooper if he ever left the Lodge. But really, I have no idea… not as of end of P7.

I like how Lynch-Frost are using all official Twin Peaks releases as canon to draw the narrative from — Laura’s Diary, FWWM, Missing Pieces of blu-ray edition, as well as many classic episode threads.

And like Erik, I KNOW, that Sheriff Harry S. Truman will make an appearance in this season. I feel it in my bones.

It’s looking grim for Harry — or rather, it sounds grim from Frank saying to Harry, “beat this thing.” But actually I can see Ontkean coming out of retirement to have a role toward the end of the series. I also (want to) believe Josie returning … maybe she’s the billionaire, but why would she make such a contraption mounted to the side of building?

On Sun, Jun 25, 2017 at 2:26 AM, Erik wrote: Good Morning Gents. Grab a cup a joe and settle down a minute. I got some backed up information for yous … << Starts Tape Recorder…. >>

Spot on is right Mr Domi. You got that Diane was Laura Dern AND that she drinks at the Pub we went to. I even want to say she is seated in the area of the bar that we were sitting at that night.  Glad it wasn't raining when we went, "FUCK Gene Kelly, You mother fucker!!" LOL I love Albert, he is my favorite this season. (Location: Max Von's Bar = Casey's Irish Pub, 619 South Grand, LA)

So Episode 7 should have shut up all those whiner's and complainer's of Ep 6. There was a lot of hate on the internet, and even in our FB Group, about that episode. I was ok with it. I did not like the scene with the kid getting hit by the truck, but the scene ended with the Fat Trout Telephone pole, so I'm ok with it.

"Lynch has gotten flak for the male gaze in his work, but the problems go a lot deeper than lingering shots on female anatomy.…” Laura Hudson in Vulture.

Also in EP 6 we finally got two major new pieces of music from Angelo, not his best work, but still great to hear.  The overall lack of his music is my biggest complaint this season in case I didn't make that clear.

When Johnny Jewel's Windswept first appeared, I thought that was Badalamenti  finally debuting new music. I was definitely disappointed it was not Angelo, no disrespect to Johnny. But I agree with you Erik about no AB original score. That music is what made classic Peaks so memorable. I don’t get why Lynch is using such popular music. There really wan’t any such tracks in FWWM, it was Angelo’s music and further cemented Peaks as evergreen. Lynch is acting like Scorcese in the epic cinematic story… and he doesn’t need to. Marty did not have a Badalamenti in his arsenal. Lynch does. Please use him.

EP 7...There's a body alright.. is definitely the shit. Now we are cooking. Jerry!!!! Come out of it man... Lets get Ben and Jerry back in action, not disfunction. The diary pages, Annie's message from FWWM, Leland hiding pages, DIANE from hell! ... Bringing it all back home.

There’s a dark undercurrent with Diane and Cooper. All signs are indicating something very bad happened to Diane. I think BOB-Cooper raped her.

I wonder where Frank Truman was at the time of Laura's murder? He says he remembers Leland, her father, did it, but is not really familiar with the case. BUT why the heck is Frank not asking "So what is "the Lodge" you keep talking about?” Hawk?

The way Hawk talks so knowledgable about both Lodges and the way Frank does not question or disbelieve him, then it must be common knowledge among the indigenous culture. Wonder if Frank is a Bookhouse Boy?

Ancient Doc Hayward, kinda sad, but he was still funny. Did you catch his Skype name?  MiddleburyDoc... Warren Frost was actually living in VT right? They probably actually did just Skype him and screen capture it…lol

I caught that right away about Warren Frost’s Skype handle. And no doubt, Frost stayed in Vermont to do his scene. That just recorded the screen.… I do miss Briggs. Yet he died long before Lynch-Frost’s three-year tenure writing the new story, they had plenty of time to work the presence of him into the story.

Briggsy.. Oh Major Briggs. how we miss thee. Should be interesting how this plays out. And When the hell are we going to go back to I bet the road where Andy is waiting to meet the Truck owner is up there at Frankln Canyon Pond.

The Dog Leg.... WTF?  Is Joe McCluskey the guy that rigged the car and Mr C Killed earlier on? I do think the Psycho Little guy with the Ice Pick and Gun is kinda silly. Over the top for no reason.  Oh well.… It's kinda silly also that no one has taken Dougie to the Doctor. Everyone just plays along. we have to suspend disbelief I guess.

OMG enough with the guy sweeping at the Roadhosue. Is this all the extra time he told Shotime he needed more money for to tell the story properly?  lol and more music used in hundreds of shows and commercials. I love Booker T and the MGs don't get me wrong, but ... UGH I miss you Angelo... Also... Kinda weird to see Jean Michel... Did Jacque Renault have a twin brother? lol Mr. C and Ray getting out of Prison.. Bad stuff gonna happen. I think they might have used San Bernadino County Jail for this locaton. The Cell block Cooper is located on looks familar.  I will compare some screen grabs from my Locaton and Publicity Photos we took for Beyond Scared Straight at that jail.

And beause they needed to pad the ending to get to the alloted running time... Back to the RR Diner for the end scene, and yet another over-used stock song they probably had to pay more to use than what they paid Angelo for everything. Plus, I liked that song better when they used it in the X-files episode “Home" but No, I'm not bitter.

General notes: Glad Naomi Watts has such a big part. She really owns her scenes. Wish Jennifer Jason Leigh was more present but Mr C just left Jail for somewhere... It's slightly brilliant how Lynch (but probably Frost came up with it) still has made Harry a character in the show. even if only on the phone and never even heard. I feel like Harry is there kinda. Also brilliant... Robert Forrester.... wow. Wish he was in the original or the movie. Not sure how I feel with Dern as Diane. I'll go with it and see what happens.

Outstanding questions for me....(cause I haven't been reading blogs or listening to podcasts)

What is up with all the Arthurian Legend references? Dougie lives on Lancalot Court, down the street from the Merlin Market. Janey-E meets for the ransom drop on the corner of Gueneivere and Merlin. And of course, Glastonbury Grove... Pete Martel: "King Arthur's burried in England!"

Why is it when Dougie puts his thumb up or his hand out to shake, he turns his body 180 degrees?

What is up with the creepy guy (from Mulholland Diner scene) in the Vegas Office? I can't seem to catch his meaning in the story line.

What is up with Cooper's Room Key from the Great Northern? If has finally made it back to Ben Horne...Soooo?

One last question... Did Lynch quit smoking?  He made two references to people (Gordon Cole even) quitting. Did we ever even see Cole smoke in the series or movie? weird for him to say he quit when the character never smoked on camera. "You think about that Tammy."

On Jun 25, 2017, at 4:29 PM, Dom wrote: I think Frank Truman was a police officer in Seattle during Laura's investigation if I remember the book correctly. But I think that a "Sheriff Truman" has been in power for over 60 consecutive years now between the 2 brothers and their father. It sort of like there must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

To my knowledge that was the first time ever we have heard name Joe McCluskey. I have no clue who that is. But I have a feeling we will learn.

Yea, I don’t recollect Joe McCluskey. Gotta watch again to see if he first appears or is mentioned earlier.

I think Ike the Spike is either from the black lodge or an agent of the black lodge. Remember he smelled "funny" per the little girl.

Spike did look a little monstery, his teeth especially.

I actually loved that scene of the sweeping. I could just imagine everyone watching was freaking out and I enjoyed that. And I thought that Walter did some great acting while on the phone as Jean-Michel. "He owes me for two!"

That ending scene from the RR diner was weird as shit. Its either the worst continuity error of all time or something truly weird happened there. Completely different set of people dining there after David Lynch's son runs in and asks if anyone has seen Billy.

Lynch did not quit smoking. He, like Harry Dean are lifers.

Both Laura Dern and Naomi Watts are killing their roles. Both doing a fantastic job. I just cannot wait to see them come face to face over Dougie.

And MacLachlan! All his Cooper iterations are really well done. I love that BOB-Cooper character. Can’t wait to see what trouble he kicks up now!

My new tin foil theory is that we may be dealing with 2 Twin Peaks. Twins of each other if you will. I'm still working this one out. Different versions of the same town in different universes a part of a greater multiverse?

Did you notice Andy was wearing a rolex? Kind of weird.

…And he was supposed to meet the guy at 4:30. Is that one of the numbers from ????? ?

The guy from the Vegas office is working directly for Phillip Jeffries or whoever is pretending to be him IMO.

Don’t overlook the black soot guy walking in the hallway toward the female FBI agent in the morgue. I think it’s related to the guy next to Bill Hastings cell.…

Lots of Arthurian Legend stuff from way back when. I never got that. But its seems to be very important. I would love to go to Merlin's Market.

During the end credits from the last episode buried in the music is Windham Earle's theme mixed into the background too!!!!!

I might try headphones for tonight’s part to see exactly what sounds I miss. I know there’s a lot of low audible noise and rumbling that I don’t hear when our apartment is 86º and the fan is going.…

On Jun 25, 2017, at 8:10 PM, Dom wrote: Some last minute thoughts...

Yeah I agree about MacLachlan is killing it and should win an Emmy for best actor. Black soot guy is awesome and its the same dude for sure from the jail cell. Some people seem to think we have seen him a third time as a homeless man outside of Vegas at the Rachera Rosa is whatever it is called. I don't think that we did. I will need to re-watch that again. Another tin foil hat theory. On those three pages from Laura's diary she refers to knowing who it is and that its not Bob. At least everyone thinks she is referencing Leland. That is probably most right. However I am thinking that she is referring to an evil more powerful and sadistic than even Bob.Like whatever came out of the glass box and mutilated those younglings.

On Jun 25, 2017, at 8:17 PM, Erik wrote: > "Yea, I don’t recollect Joe McCluskey."

I am thinking if the guy in the diner eating food non-stop the whole scene with Ray and the chick Mr C shot in the head.  Just before he kills her, he tells her "i killed joe, and the she freaks out, knowing the gig is up.   The previous scene the eating guy "joe" does something to a car in storage and then cooper like squeezes his face for a whole minute.   Could be McCluskey?

> "Lynch did not quit smoking."

Well, its mighty fine of him to send a non smoking message to all the youths. Considering Cole does not smoke, it is a conscious message.

> "All his Cooper iterations are really well done."

Yes, Kyle will def get an Emmy nomination. Dern and Watts will also I predict.  

> “RR diner was weird as shit. Its either the worst continuity error of all time or something truly weird happened there.”

There are no accidents on a Lynch set. If an error occurs and he likes it he will use it. So who knows why he did it. On the same level as the windows  flashing code on the FBI jet.  He is throwing out decoys i feel.  

> “then it (the Lodge) must be common knowledge among the indigenous culture.”

Then why the heck is Truman not like "well lets go up there" nor does Hawk tell him he was up in those woods when Log Lady last called.

> “Don’t overlook the black soot guy walking in the hallway”

Nope, I did not mention him cause i consider it another decoy.  Kinda like the shambling being behind the diner in Mulholland Drive...never came up again. i am sure he will play a part at some point.  

But i did forget to mention the playing card Mr. C  showed the girl in the hotel bed before he shoots her.  Aliens? Very well could be.

Have a good viewing. The damn internet saying EP 8 is extra noteworthy. Could it be Phillip Jeffries? Windom Earl?  More Leland and Laura? (I actually doubt we will see either of them again).  Audrey? Big Ed? They got plenty of options.

Cheers! ~G

Sent from the Black Lodge.