#(hence not being pushed from the clan house)

[osirisdefencesquad]

snippet of Eîr and Vela, as Sanne is being integrated into the clan

Eîr was used to people being uncomfortable around him. This is what he tried to convince himself, at least.

And it was understandable. It really was! Whether they were uncomfortable because of his attunement to the Void, or the Hive mutations, they had reason. ...It never did hurt any less.

"This new one's an interesting find, for sure" Vela informed him as he climbed up to Eîr. Grateful for something to pull him out of his own head, even if it was talking about what put him there, Eîr lept for the conversation.

"Do you know how she's settling?" he asked the other hunter, shifting from the railing to the bed of cushions, accepting the coffee Vela handed him.

"Other than damn near losing her mind every time she comes into contact with someone void attuned?" Vela winced, offering up his scorched right arm for Eîr's observation "well, for where we found her."

"How is Wraith taking that? hasn't he been invested in the new lights recently?"

"Hard, from what I can tell. Kirach has him out on patrols until we give the all clear"

"...which Eva is working on now. do we know why she has such a strong adversion to Void?"

"Nope. Vias is prying at her -she seems more comfortable with other Awoken- but she's barely a month out the grave."

"So something from her past life. Is Zirne still hanging around Osiris?"

"Yep. they've found some new thing to throw themselves at. Saint projects about a week until Osiris takes a break, and I give Zirne 'round four days. She's already low from the strikes."

[zelmyna-dragonheart]

I don't normally scream about other people's rottmnt au on here, but @somerandomdudelmao 's Cass Apocalypse Au is driving me up the wall, and I have words!!

Everyone who is reading the series knows it is currently in the process of Casey Jr. resurrecting his uncle/dad's.

Theory Time!

First off, let's go into why Casey can do this.

Yes, Cass has confirmed that the memory spell that was used was mixed with a time travel one. Thus, using one's memory's as a gateway to not only traverse time but dimensions.

However, Casey Jr. is able to see spirits when he does this but also remains physically in the present - which leads me to think that he is being astroprojected across time and space as a literal spirit. Hence why he can visit his memories and the past without altering the events on a physical level. As a spirit, Casey Jr. can see and engage with other spirits in existence at that time.

In the powers of spirit to spirit interaction, he is the only person alive who can literally pull other spirits through dimensions. With his body anchored in one time branch and his memories anchored in the other one, Casey Jr. Is the literal bridge for spirits to cross from one to the other.

No matter the condition of the spirit.

Theory #2

Cass has shown us F.Mikey communing with his ancestors when Donnie originally pasted on. It also was largely suspected the krangg could destroy ninpo and spirits.

With the Hamatos, spirits and ninpo are consister linked if not one. So, of course, when Casey Jr. travels back to his past in his time branch and is able to intact and unintentionally pull Donnie's disintegrating spirit into and out of time with him; Casey Jr. effectively saved Donnie's ninpo. Immediately after his recuse, Donnie admits that his NINPO is in shambles and that he is doing everything in his power to hold it together.

With this confirmation in mind, let's have a look at the conditions surrounding the other turtles' ninpos and spirits.

First off, Raph

Raph's spirit and ninpo were perfectly healed and intact with in the robot body Donnie created for him. The only thing is that Raph's 'body' could be turned activated or shut down. Like a Fullmetal Alchemist parallel, Raph's soul, spirit, and ninpo are housed within a metal container. In episode two or three, when Casey Jr. found the robot, Raph was reactivated after an emergency shutdown that lasted YEARS.

His ninpo and spirit woke up. Know that, shutting himself down again to allow his generator to be redirected as a power source would not kill Raph but rather put him to sleep. He would never die but remain suspended for all time, trapped in his metal shell until someone reactivated him.

This made Raph not only be the easiest but most accessible spirit for Casey Jr. to rescue. Raphs' spirit would have remained there, in perfect condition, for however long it took for Casey to get to him.

Now, let's look at Mikey.

This old mystic warrior was the most in tune and most powerfully adept with his abilities. Drained he may have been, Mikey said that opening a time gateway would use whatever he had left. His mystic powers and ninpo are linked. Opening the time gateway was a strain on his spirit, his ninpo. He was literally splintering apart as he opened the portal. In Mikey’s moment of death, he pushed the last of his ninpo in the portal. His ninpo burst like a firework.

At this point of this written theory, Mikey's has not been rescued.

This leads me to speculate the condition and difficulty of said rescue for one Casey Jr. Mikey's soul is untrained by Krangg's chemical warfare, so it is not in danger of disintegrating but nor is his soul bound to a metal shell, his spirit is actually free to reform and rejoin his Hamato clan.

This leaves Casey Jr. vary little time to connect with Mikey's spirit. There is the option that he will witness Mikey's ninpo shattering into a million pieces. However, he may also be witness to Mikey's ninpo, in stark contrast to Donnie rapidly decaying ninpo spirit, pull back together. In glorious younger self. All golden and whole.

All that training and usage of his ninpo would have given his spirit and ninpo the ability to reform faster than one that was infected with a ninpo-distorying illness. This moment, where Mikey spirit lingers before ascending or choosing to join with his ancestors, Casey would have to approach.

Then again... Mikey could also rather stick around and wait for Leo to join him.

Option 2 is that when Mikey explodes, Casey Jr. would have to act fast to catch the ninpo pieces upon explosion. I like option number one a lot better.

Regardless, Mikey could be a time sensitive rescue. Mikey is quite literally a wild card in this realm.

This brings us to Leo.

Can you see where I'm going with this?

It's not a secret that Casey has related to Younger Leo about how his future self was a shield for Mikey's ninpo.

F.Leo is shown to have sacrificed the use of his ninpo, or lack there of, to draw the Kranggs apparently one-time-use ability to lock or damage ninpo/magic on to himself to free Mikey to mystically blast Kranggs to oblivion. In contrast to Mikey's fully intact Hamato ninpo, Leo's utterly demolished ninpo is in full view for us to see .

How it got way we can only speculate - but it may have been sacrificed to help Mikey originally and never fully recovered. F.Leo even claimed once, after using his ninja skills of speed to confuse and irritate Krangg into using that ninpo destroying sonic wave they have, that he had no magic or anything for them to destroy.

So here is the thing. If a Hamato spirit and ninpo are one in the same... where does this leave Leo's spirit? His soul? His ninpo? It's all in pieces, broken, destroyed. Claimed to no longer exist. But the pieces remain.

They are pieces in a container. Like how Raph's spirit and ninpo were contained in metal, Leo's broken ones were still collected together within his living body.

So what happens when Leo's body is incinerated by that krangg's beam death? Like his twin, Leo’s spirit has been affected by the krangg and was unable to heal. There is no holding himself together here. He is most likely already like clear glass like pieces on the breeze or scattering in the wake of the after math. Destined to fade from existence.

He's the most likely to join his Hamato ancestors immediately, but without the ability to pull his ninpo together on his own, Leo would take time to reform with the Hamoto Clans help.

If Casey is to save Leo's ninpo and spirit at all, he would have to find away to collect the pieces of Leo's shattered ninpo once the beam hits.

Another problem, if Kraggs technology has the effect of destroying one's spirit, Casey's astroprojected spirit could be in danger if that death beam gets too close. He wouldn't be able to save his sensai and himself if that is in the way and active.

Saving Leonardo's shattered spirit and ninpo would not only be near impossible, but a definite risk to Casey Jr.'s own spirit. Astroprojecting his spirit still puts put's his life in clear physical danger of coming in contact with spirit damaging tech. Saving any remnant of his sensai's spirit and ninpo is going to acquire a plan. Or dumb luck.

That being said... Donnie is our evidence that even in pieces, Leo could be saved. Casey Jr. would have to get dangerously close to the death beam. That or stand among the lingering pieces of Leo's soul as they float for a moment in the aftermath. In any instance, all Casey Jr. would need to do is come in contact with any of these spirit partials, and they would all be sucked up in to him.

Unfortunately, I'm not sure Leo's broken spirit would be overly responsive to any of Casey' Jr. 's concerned shouts, if at all. But Casey would be able to feel him.

On returning to the present, we know from Donnie that krangg effects are left behind. This would result in two ways of Leo being resurrected.

1. On returning to the present, Casey would scramble for the cloning tube and instantly deposit the ninpo fragments. Leo would return with a new body shell for his broken bits. In this case, Leo would probably be comatose for a good long while until his pieces, now cleansed from anything krangg, reform and heal in safty.

2. Leo's ninpo is too weak to transfer into his clone and takes refuge in Casey instead until his cleansed ninpo pieces find a way to pull together. Maybe with help from Mikey?

Also, could Casey house two Hamato souls at once? Since Mikey and Leo practically died at the same time.

Because to wrap horribly long theory thread, I would almost expect a spirit Mikey to tell Casey's to grab Leo first then come back for him as Mikey's spirit is safe in the aftermather of the death beam. If Casey housed two Hamato spirits at once (headache just thinking about it), then Mikey mystic warrior aspect could collect and even help mend Leo's shattered ninpo.

But in conclusion, F. Leo is the most at risk and dangerous Hamato spirit to rescue. Logic states that there would be a possibility that F.Leo may never get rescued and be a lonely turtle spirit with his ancestors after. However, this is Cass's Au and Donnie of all people is defying logic. So I predict that some kind of Dumb Luck option from above will be Leo's saving grace. I just feel Casey Jr. is going to have a few singe marks on his soul to tell about when all this is said and done.

TL:DR - Raph was the easiest turtle to rescue as his spirit was stuck in a tin can. Mikey is a wild card in terms of spirit condition, but saveable on a time limit. Leo is the most riskiest and dangerous to save with a broken ninpo.

Casey Jr. and Donnie have no fear.

Live on future turtles!

[blackboar]

Anne Neville didn't buy clothes for Edward V of England's coronation. Does this mean that Richard III had the idea of usurping the throne at that time?

I either forgot or didn't know that fact. It's possible that we don't have any records of her buying this particular type of clothing, or that she might already have those clothes.

Anyway, the interesting point is: when did Richard choose to usurp, and what is Anne's role?

When you get to learn Richard not as king but as magnate, you get to see some patterns that Hicks' highlighted in many of his works. One particularly important feature is Richard's ability to temporarily (or definitely) retreat on a want only to come back after in a stronger position. That's the case with the Kingmaker's inheritance, the Richmond Honor, the De Vere inheritance, various offices, etc...

Richard can back down when met with serious resistance or when such resistance would be too costly to overcome vs some settlements. Hence when the second Edward IV died, Richard indeed had usurpation in mind but could have been forced to back down. He met such little resistance through the effect of surprise that he never backed down. In my opinion, he hesitated a bit in May but definitely made his choice in June through Hastings' execution. I think it went quicker than he expected because his foes were much more frail and divided than he thought, and because he was lucky. He received unforeseen help from Buckingham and was at the apex of his prestige after the Scottish campaign.

Anne thoroughly approved him. The White Princess is on the right on this; she probably even pushed him. We have no proof that she has shown any reluctance on her husband's actions, and every indication tends to point out that she supported him. In Anne's mind, her father's destruction and the House of York's division started when Edward IV married Elizabeth Woodville. She didn't witness her dad's secret shenanigans with France but saw on prime time Clarence's execution that was pushed by the Woodville clan. She has 0 sympathy for them at best and hates them at worst.

And she wins a lot. Queenship for her with vast resources and immense prestige. Her son becomes prince, next in line for the crown. It's the perfect vindication of her father, and she can think she succeeded at being a better Kingmaker than her father.

Anne's views mattered. She brings much-needed legitimacy to Richard on his lordship over the North. More than the lands, she bring the connection her dead father had. She is the link between the kingmaker and the king's brother on the many, many servants, retainers, vassals and friends Richard Neville had. If she wants, she can be troublesome to Richard, even more so with her queenship. She very clearly didn't, and she chose to back him fully. Even after her death, Richard could count on Neville retainers, which shows she did a good job.

[complementary-oxymorons]

i was thinking about his ✨backstory✨ and i've got a little something cooked up before i prose it (possibly. some day.)

would have been raised by a lone dwarven woodcutter in the woods

woodcutter's name is jørgen tallowburn, he mostly keeps to himself (which he why he prefers staying in solitude) but never turns away those in need of help

for more specs on him, i imagine he's about 200ish in age, salt and pepper hair & beard, and has the most kindly brown eyes. loves cheese melted on top of good, crusty (hard dwarven) bread

jørgen got his last name in his youth, when he and his clanmates were ambushed by a grove of carnivorous plants (with one main body). since a few had already been eaten while the few that managed to escape were in no shape to fight, jørgen coated himself in tallow (the only thing that survived the attack, since all their supplies were destroyed or eaten) and let himself be consumed before lighting himself on fire to burn the plant from the inside out :D not the smartest, but it let everyone get out alive (with varying degrees of acid burn)

as a result, jørgen's body is 80% covered in scars (from the fire and acid) but he wears it with pride. unfortunately the burns also messed up some his nerves/sense of touch but he's learned to live with it

jørgen would have left his clan several years after that incident, since everyone realised that his tendency for heroics could bring glory to the clan name. after so many whispers and lighthearted teasings of "you'd be a great hero" or "jørgen the great has a great ring to it, doesn't it?" he decided to leave and go on his own great adventure

i'll skip the details but he probably ends up being a semi-successful folk hero type, but after about a century he decides he wants to settle down on the surface. sure he misses his clan sometimes, but he enjoys the freedom of living for himself, and he's not getting any younger. so he builds a modest home in the woods and chops and sells wood to the town that's about half an hour away on foot

it's during one of these return trips that he spies something unusual. it had been storming badly the week prior, to the point where it had been a miracle that no trees had fallen onto his home. however, while lugging his shopping back home, he finds a strange mound of black and white among the leaves. approaching the mound, he finds a freshly-hatched dragonborn, its scales still soft and slippery from pushing its way out. with no time to lose, he quickly takes the little thing in, with every intention of finding the parent

unfortunately, no parent ever comes to claim the little hatchling, which jørgen ends up naming tyr (maybe the patron god of his clan?). tyr proves to be a cheeky little menace – chewing things around the house, running amok, filling the once-quiet space with giggling and laughter. jørgen can't find it in him to turn tyr in to another family, so he continues to raise him as his own

tyr ends up being a great help as he grows up. cutting wood helps him to burn off any excess energy so he isn't as restless indoors, and thanks to his strength, jørgen eventually ends up buying a cart which tyr very happily pulls to the town and back. (hence the pack mule tendencies in the present day) it makes their work efficient since more things can be loaded up to be transported to and fro so less trips have to be made into town. (jørgen still really likes his solitude)

ooh i think jørgen would get into carving windchimes while he lives alone. it keeps his hands busy and gives him something to sell for a little more gold than just firewood. so tyr would grow up surrounded by wooden windchimes in various stages of creation. tyr would definitely want to try making some, but he definitely has a long way to go before he can make artisanal quality chimes like jørgen

okay yes so important points: tyr's not good with touch because of jørgen's tough dwarven skin + nerve damage, so that's why he has trouble with more delicate people. got his appreciation of finer things because of jørgen's love for gold and pretty stuff (when tyr was 3 an artisanal fair popped up in the town square and jørgen made sure to bring tyr along). jørgen is the one who instilled heroic values & the drive to help others into tyr, and also tyr follows jørgen's preferred garb of comfortable leathers and furs

God this is getting long so ill stop here but yeah ill go make lunch or sumn and play game

giggling and kicking my feet i finally caved and bought what the cool kids are playing (bg3) and i think my tav is handsome and a good boy (no spoilers please)

he's called tyr (friend who watched me told me he shares his name with someone) he's a black dragonborn barbarian who was a folk hero (background) prior to being tapewormed

i know there are in-game limitations to certain specificities so i'll jot down a few things that are important to me even though i'm only just at the ruins at the crash site

one of his necklaces is a thick disc of tough, tanned, acid-resistant hide. he uses it as a chew pendant when he's stressed or thinking or bored. it smells pretty bad but is clearly very taken care of

gets embarrassed and apologises a lot when accidentally walking in on any gal changing (i tried unequipping companion armour and got flashbanged by the fact i could do that)

generally just helps people because as a dragonborn with a big body and tough scales he feels like it's good to protect those in need

bonds with gale over the fact that they both don't have darkvision. likes the magic man's funny words

is not keen on astarion for obvious reasons (their first meeting), but doesn't outright hate him or overly distrust him at this point

thinks lae'zel is very interesting, and admires her focus and fiery spirit. grateful to her for her help at the beginning of the game, and very in-awe of her combat prowess

likes being similar to his companions, or having some form of connection with them. has a scroll of chromatic orb in his inventory for that reason (yay gale)

has to learn to manage his claws/hands/touch. scales aren't the most sensitive to tactile feedback so while he tries to be gentle (especially with squishier individuals) it's either he's too rough on accident or barely touches things at all

the party's designated pack mule. he doesn't mind; he figures it's something a good leader would do. also very particular about sorting party items; moreso than expected of the average barbarian. cares a lot about making sure his companions are carrying useful things + remain as unencumbered as possible

i feel like when someone gets close enough to him to be considered a friend, they can just tug on his horns for his attention. he doesn't mind; he knows he spaces out quite a bit

snores..... badly. astarion/shart/lae'zel probably kick him awake their first night at camp. eventually they learn to just roll him on his side/cover his head

would think that horn jewellery is very pretty but would be too self-conscious to buy any for himself. he splutters that he just thinks they look interesting before scuttling off (or as much as a dragonborn can scuttle)

specifically fond of wind chimes, in any shape size or material. finds their sounds soothing and admires how decorative they can get. can listen and stare at them for hours

not the most graceful fella. loves music and fun auditory experiences, but his body sometimes doesn't catch up to what his heart wants to do. better on the battlefield than in the ballroom

I really don't wanna think about his backstory rn + should go to bed but this is what i got

[al-hekima-madara-blog]

Why does madara say that cooperation is a silent form of conflict ?

Hi anon ! So sorry I've started answering your question early on and then I've totally forgotten it in the middle of my drafts ! Anyway without further ado let's see what's going on :

In my opinion there is, as often with Madara, many layers of interpretations of what he's saying. I'll start by the most complex reasons and then go down to the most obvious one.

1/ Reality is hell

for a bit of context, when he said this sentence "cooperation is nothing but a silence fight" chapter625 he had already deciphered Uchiha's tablets and knew chakra's origin. Sure, it was falsified by Black Zetsu to push Madara into becoming Kaguya's vessel, in spite of himself. But the biggest points were correct as he explained further in chapter 646 : Kaguya got an unparallel power to stop wars, Hagoromo shared chakra and taught ninshu to humankind. But both failed to create a long lasting peace.

Later In Chapter 665, Madara still in a confession's mood with Obito, went deeper into Hagoromo's failed world. The scan is a bit long but necessary to have all the elements of his mindset :

In Madara's observation of the whole Shinobi system since its origin, The rules of this reality are doomed. He knows that humans already have a tendency to conflicts before Kaguya's intervention. But with chakra being shared between humans, now it's totally impossible to achieve any type of peace. Hence why getting rid of all chakra in the world (except for himself) was an important part of his plan.

"But people didn't use to reach one another's heart"

If you notice in the two panels when he shows Ninshu's failures. First, humans start to focus on themselves rather than talk to each other. And in a second phase the chakra is actively breaking bounds between people. Why? Because amplifying your chakra create now a competition between people. Like a domino effect. To Madara, it's a dead end. Humans are inherently egocentric and competitive, and chakra works as a destructive fuel to those flaws.

"because if you don't have you will loose everything"

Also the final panel is really moving. Madara put on the responsibility of his own failures to protect his brother and his clan's trust to his lack of power, while I'm pretty sure he was aware that he was already a powerful Shinobi at this time. but still, it's not enough to beat Hashirama. In this Chakra-ruled world, looking for more is not only a necessity but an obsession and an addiction, a thirst who could never be quenched.

2/ Hidden villages vs hidden villages :

Now that we explain that for him chakra is a curse, let's think about the creation of hidden villages. The main reason why others copy Konoha's model was not as naively Hashirama thought because they shared the same dream but just because they felt threatened by the new power combining by both Senju and Uchiha forces. And Kumo is a perfect allegory of this competition. Even during peaceful times they always tried to gather more justsus and being ahead of the race for power and resources. They tried to catch Kyuubi long before Madara, they possessed during a time 2 bijuus Hachibi and Niibi, they tried to kidnap Hinata to get the byakugan. Peaceful period is then to Madara just a brief truce before the next bloodshed.

3/ Uchiha vs Senju

Tobirama's behaviour and the private conversation he had with his older brother showed him that the conflict between the two clans weren't resolve at all just because both of their leaders shook hands. People still didn't trust each other. And even Hashirama wasn't totally sincere. They're leaving inside the same village they won't show openly their hostility to each other, but that doesn't mean they will share power. In the secret of their houses, they still continue to hold grudges to each others. From open battle, now they went into a psychological warfare, with political battle for influence, conspiracy, paranoia, suspicion, smear campaign, discrimination and ultimately by the elimination of the weakest clan. And this topic is sensitive to Madara who is notoriously known for not trusting people easily. Joining Konoha was already a heavy sacrifice, the result is to him more than disappointed. Here, literally cooperation is a silent conflict.

4/ Madara vs Hashirama :

"So when heart and heart connected, no one was ever able to understand each other"

I'm almost just paraphrasing him but he said many times that although they had a deep bond, both as close friend with the same dream and both as avatars of past Otsutsuki, the context makes this friendship impossible to maintain : the raging wars, the clan's leadership interest, their rivalry, their common dream but hold by opposite means to reach it. For all those reasons Madara knew that it will be a matter of time before they will dispute within or outside the village and going on the same cycle of hate.

"Those with power will always fight for more"

This panel as well is really informative. It isn't solely a reference to himself but both him and Hashirama. The Senju's leader as well is ambitious and competitive to gather more chakra in order to protect HIS dream, HIS village as he corrected himself in the Valley of the End. This is the reason I think Madara didn't resent him for his betrayal, it was surely painful to experience, but he expected somehow to happen. Race for power through chakra changes and corrupts everything, even your best friend with the best intention. Their deadly rivalry was Fate, they couldn't prevent it because of this so called cursed reality. He lived within a very fatalist paradigm if you think about it. He is also an empath "very sensitive to his environment" as he admits to Hashirama at their first encounter, without a surprise he ends up being the living product of his time, the warring state era. This endless violence was all he ever witnessed in his life and the only answer to war he could give. Every aspect of life, even the more innocent, is for him a potential death threat, a power struggle. I wonder if it would have been different if he had grow up during peace time?

[riverisnotsafe]

Mine.

PAIRING: F!Servant!Reader x Naoya Zenin

WARNINGS: NAOYA ZENIN. Naoya smut. NSFW, Minors DNI. | If you're into any of these: possessive Naoya, breeding kink (?), mentions of overstimulation, jealous Naoya.

A/N: You can call me Noct or River. I’m still fairly new to how tumblr works and how writers and bloggers (?) write their imagines/fics so I do apologize in advance if my writing is not to your liking. I will also post on AO3 under sunflowerpsycho. I'm still trying to improve^^ This was self-indulgent and not edited so pretty all over the place and might be unclear in some parts, sorry bout that.

The reader lowkey a pick me but depends on how you view her, either she's a pick me or she just acts the way she acts to accustom and stroke the lil bitches ego.

“A-ah! Naoya-sama!” you moan his name as he shoots his load deep in you. A few moments of bliss and you were ready to clean yourself. Naoya never liked staying in bed long after sex. He finds it disgusting. All the fluids of sweat, semen and love juices mixed together made his skin crawl. “Oi woman, where are you going?” You haven’t even gotten up but Naoya had you strongly wrapped in his embrace. His cock still deep within you, as if acting as a plug. “I’m gonna wash myself..? You don’t like being dirty like this...usually?” the last bit came out as a question when Naoya buried his head deep into the crevice of your neck. “Ah, I’ll let it pass today. Just stay here. My cum is gonna leak out if you move.” he tried to shove himself deeper, earning an unexpected moan from you. “L-leak out???” Does Naoya have a breeding kink? Is he trying to keep his cum in you???? “N-naoya-sama...are you trying to breed me?” at the mention of breed, you could feel his dick twitch in your core. “Shut up woman.” Ah...so he is and he’s embarrassed to admit. “I feel honoured if that’s what you’re trying to do...” another twitch.

Under that tough misogynistic act, this man is just a boy who thrives on praise, he probably was deprived of any in his childhood, hence the superiority complex. But with you, he’s quite honest. The body doesn’t lie. You were just another servant. He probably paid and slept with many so you never thought of it as anything special. Besides, after all of this dirty work, both of you end up going your separate ways. A servant and the young master. That’s all it is. That is until one of the maids tried stealing from the family, unfortunately from Naoya and he didn’t take it too lightly. A woman and a thief, absolutely the worst. Ever since that, he appointed you as his personal maid, to ensure that only one person will serve him. Only one will enter and exit his quarters. Only one will serve his meals. Only one will tend to him. Only one will follow him around the house. Only one will keep him company when needed. Why did he choose you? Honestly you had no idea. Out of all the servants, clearly you were the least appealing, especially for a man of Naoya’s caliber.

You could never rival the looks of any of the other girls. You were chubby. Your thighs a bit too thick. Your cheeks were puffy. You had no thigh gap. Curves? Well, they weren’t hour-glass curves so you were bedrock bottom ranked. And when it came to family, you were a nobody. All the other servants have been serving the Zenin clan for generations. You were just a nobody who was pulled into the servant life to pay off your parent’s debt. What luck. It took him time though, to make you tend to him sexually. He might have a big ego and any woman would sleep with him but deep down he knew it was only for money and his looks, which he prided on. The sex was always bland. He could care less about the women’s pleasures, he would ejaculate outside, toss them money and demand them to immediately leave. He found them disgusting. Weren’t you just the same?

He had a great face, an even better body and all the riches you could’ve dreamt of, so why has he not tossed you out yet. He for sure can suspect that you’re just the same as all those women, plus, you were even lower, a nobody. Yet, here he is, deep inside you. This has been..about the sixth time you and Naoya have had intercourse. The first three times was when you were just a normal servant. Coincidentally he always found you and forced you to pleasure him. The pay was good so you never complained. After becoming his personal maid, it took a few months to make you fulfil his sexual needs, which is rather strange. A man like knows nothing of consent. He’s a tyrant. What he wants, he can get and he will. So why did he take months to make you fuck him when it was so easy before becoming his personal servant. Who knows? Maybe it was his underlying insecurities asking him to be sure.

“Naoya-sama...may I turn to look at you?” he grunts. “I’ll be sure to avoid any leakage” he nods. You slowly turn your body, still impaled on him. It was a different kind of pleasure but you withheld your moans. Your face are so close. This moment is intimate, for you and him. Almost unreal. He’s gorgeous. That red tint of blush and sex afterglow just added more to his beauty. “Naoya-sama. May I speak more than usual?” “Only because you asked for permission. Proceed.” he avoided looking into your eyes. A shy one. “I appreciate my master’s kindness. Thank you for allowing me to speak. Naoya-sama...please be honest with me. Are you trying to impregnate me? Why? I’m just a lowly servant. I could never be perfect to bear your children, or be a concubine. I have no value. You are too kind. We should stop. I will remove myself now. Thank you for your time master.” You slowly push yourself off him. He grabs your arm harshly, definitely bruising it.

“You said no leakage. And how dare you speak to your master so insolently? How dare you question what holds value to me or not. You are a lowly servant. You’re a filthy no-name bitch. You live to lick my shoes and pick up money I throw on the ground. You are not going anywhere. You are staying on this bed with me in you. You have to be reminded who your master is.” Oooh, you definitely pissed him off. You winced at his words. They were normal, he always told you where your place is so it wasn’t a surprise. “You stupid woman. Now it’s out. You moved and now it’s out.” he sounds disappointed. He was whining like a child. “Naoya-sama!” he plunged into you hard. “Yes, scream my name you stupid bitch.” He went faster and faster. “Don’t cum inside...I’m not worthy master” “Shut your mouth. Worthy? No woman is worthy of me. Selfish. All they care about are themselves. Such an inferior gender thinking what they know is worthy? I decide. I decide your worth.” He changed positions. He pressed both your legs close to your chest. A mating press. He was so deep. The squelching of his previous load acting as lubricant was erotic.

“You. Your lewd body. You were always trying to seduce me. Those luscious thighs. These fat breasts. You were made for child-bearing. The look you make when I fuck you. So in awe, eyes rolling back. Ah. Ah. Sometimes you even forgot payment because you rushed to clean yourself. You were the only memorable one. The sounds you make. You’re erotic. No one else can see or hear you except me. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Naoya drilled you senseless. So desperate to hear you. Desperate to look at your expressions. Desperate to conquer you. “N-naoya-sama! Ah! Ah! Naoya-sama!” You had practically lost any sense and all you could feel was his dick fucking you mercilessly. The veins. The length. The girth. He fit like a glove. He had shaped you to be accustomed to him. “When that no-name clan came yesterday for a meeting. I saw your look. You enjoyed how they all looked at you didn’t you? You slut. You’d want them to fuck you like this right? Only I can though. You smiled and served them. Desperate bitch.” The meeting yesterday?

Your mind wandered. Oh yes, a small clan that are partners with the Zenin in business. The heirs were quite good-looking and well-mannered, how could a lady not feel flattered. You can’t remember if you specifically smiled or enjoyed their small talk. Was being polite not a simple necessity a servant should have towards guests? To ensure their master was not seen as tardy. You can’t remember their names or faces. All you remember was Naoya slipping his hand under your garments and fingering you. “You enjoyed people watching right? Especially since they were good-looking. I WAS RIGHT THERE WITH YOU. Disgusting piece of shit.” He got even rougher. You don’t know how many times you’ve orgasmed and how many times Naoya had ejaculated in you but he was still at it. He’s jealous huh.. how strange. A man that could have anything and anyone in the world was strangely possessive of a worthless woman like you. “You can’t show them those expressions. Mine. Your kindness mine. Your sounds. Mine. You’re my servant.” he sounds sad.

Despite being in subspace, you unintentionally reach out to your master and cub his face. “Naoya-sama. I love you.” Those unintentional words made the malicious man slow down his pace. “What did you say?” Is he angry? Oof, all the best dealing with another tantrum. You couldn’t feel anything. Legs sore. Your mind had wandered. The pleasure had made you dumb yet the little consciousness you have for your master remained. “I love you, Naoya.” His cock twitched. “Again” “I love you.” “Again” “I love you, Naoya-sama”. All that repeating made you come to your senses. “I don’t remember the men from yesterday. All I remember were your thick fingers in me. My expressions and mewls were for you. If this body is what you want then I will offer it all to you, my master. Ask, you are my master after all. All of me is yours.” You get up a bit, and stagger, he fucked the life outta ya. “Master, allow me to speak.” a small dumbfounded nod. You slip a hand onto his cheek and kiss him. Both of you never shared a kiss.

It was too intimate for a servant to kiss their master. Only their betrothed would be worthy but you couldn’t help it, you needed to assure this man-child, you were no one else’s. “Master, I-“ “Naoya. When we’re alone call me Naoya.” a small smile crept onto your lips. “Naoya, breed me.” His face was flushed. That’s exactly what he wanted. Through the night, he fucked you in every inch of the room. Both of your fluids and smell, absolutely drenched his quarters. He never once ejaculated outside. Every drip of his semen was in your womb, he wouldn’t even pull out, in fear it would leak. Shower? He fucked you while showering too. His animalistic senses stopped when a knock on the door came.

“Lay down with your back arched. It can’t leak.” He put on a robe and answered. A woman’s voice. “Naoya-sama. Naobito-sama is calling for you.” “Tch. Annoying old man” he slams the door shut. “Oi. Arch even more.” He came back to you. “I’m going to put this in you so you don’t spill.” He was holding, A DILDO? This man has a dildo? “N-naoya-sama, t-thats...” “Some servant I had my way with some time ago left it to fuck with me. I kept it not knowing what it was but now the shape looks like it’d plug you up good.” A servant he had his ways with huh. You were just another one right. He seemed to have noticed your train of thought. “Stupid woman. That servant is long gone. And now. You’re mine. No other stupid bitch except you. Stop thinking nonsense. Maybe I’ll remind you a bit more. That old man can wait.” He unrobed and pounced you. You definitely can’t walk for a few days.

“I’ll plug you up and we’ll go see the old man” he sounds, quite joyful. “If you move and leak, I won’t hesitate to fill you up again.” Ah. He’s definitely Naoya Zenin. “Naoya-sama” you smile. “What? You should be grateful that I’ve allowed you to speak so many times since last night.” You can’t help but giggle. A slight blush forms on Naoya’s face. “How dare you laugh at m-“ you pull him in for a kiss. He reluctantly kissed back. “Naoya-sama, I love you.” you smiled. He thrusted into you without warning. “The old man can definitely wait. You filled with my child is more important.” God knows how many times he’d come in your womb without pulling out, there’s no way you’re not pregnant. “Naoya-sama...let’s stop here...I can’t walk properly if we continue, then a different servant will have to serve you.” He was about to argue but held his tongue. “Fine.” He pulled out and slowly shoved the dildo in. Looks like he’d rather have wobbly-legged you than another servant. You can't help but smile. “Go shower and meet me back here. And clean the room after meeting with the old man. The smell...erotic but dreadful. Wash everything.” “Yes my master.” You hurriedly got clothed and rushed to the servant quarters to clean up. You were happy. What a weirdo.

[all-about-seggs]

A pact in blood-

Rating: 18+, Explicit

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

Word count: ~3K

Warnings: Semi-incest (Satoru is your cousin/ distant relative), masturbation, Cunnilingus, fingering, hand job, the relationship is a bit messed up, yandereish undertones.

A/n: This takes place when he's still in the academy.* Image source*

“AA-ahhh! Please don’t- don’t stop…”,

Your broken pleas reverberated through the room as Satoru’s deft fingers worked their way in and out of your sopping wet hole. You gripped the sturdy jacket that covered his shoulders, folding the fabric between your fists was the only thing you could do to maintain the last shred of composure you had.

He was like a passing cloud who offered you momentary relief and was on his way as soon as your were done, the fragments of longings that remained on your body etched deeper after every night.

Position after position, he went from your pussy over his lips to eating you out ass up and face down, all for the pleasure you couldn’t seem to get by yourself. You were now splayed out on his lap, face buried in his neck and one arm draped over him for support. Waves of his sweet scent and the euphoria assaulting your senses at the same time, taking you closer and closer to the edge.

It’s been quite some time now but the memory of your first encounter with your unfairly gorgeous cousin Satoru has been etched into your mind as if it happened just yesterday.

You were in the manor of the esteemed Gojo clan for a family event and even though you didn’t shared the same surname you were related nonetheless and were hence invited. It was a four day and three night celebration where the entire place was abuzz with excitement.

It didn’t really mattered to you, being here with a go with a flow kind of attitude, you just minded your own business until spoken to and not mingling with the faceless crowd of people you didn’t even knew the names of.

Thankfully your room was in the separate building which was a little bit further from where all the riotous events centered around. After just half a day of being in the middle of the chaos you wanted to find a way to unwind and that’s when it happened.

Stark naked and two fingers up your little cunt, there was no explaining or bullshitting your way out of this situation when the heir of the household, Satoru Gojo himself walked in in you. Feeble attempts to cover yourself and half hearted stutterings died in your mouth as soon as the young man opened his.

“ Wrong”, the deadpan reply of his made your already shaken up state worsen. Panic flooding in your system begged you to make excuses or atleast request him to not speak of this to anyone, after all families of high status are nothing if not conservative and you didn’t wanted to cause anyone any trouble.

“ I meant, y/n chan, that you’re doing it wrong”, not paying any mind to your internal conflict he continued speaking form where he stood near the door, “ don’t you know how to masturbate? I thought you were in highschool?”

His genuinely perplexed tone made you reconsider your previous opinions about the heir to the clan. Satoru, a guy who walked in on a relative masturbating, was supposed to show courtesy and leave the second he entered but instead he was rating your technique, which in all honesty may have been lacking indeed but you were desperate to cum and he seemed to pick up on that.

“ Since you’re clearly having trouble getting off”, he loosened the obi of his particularly formal kimono and shifted his uncovered ocean blue eyes towards your form, “Want me to teach you?”, his question made you gulp, then gauge your eyeballs out in disbelief. Sure you weren’t closely related and have only spoken once or twice but you attended all the occasions and holiday celebrations at their place and knew that your relationship was only platonic. His offer to cross that line made you flinch back at first.

Heaving a sigh he closed the door and sat cross legged on the tatami mat next to your futon.

“ Relax, t’s not a big deal”, flashing a toothy grin he leaned forward until your noses touched.

“ Afterall, I AM your big brother”

“ wait- you’re also in highschool!”, You retorted, “ I bet you’re a virgin too. So what CAN you teach me anyway?”, overcoming the initial embarrassment, your mouth started moving in its own accord only getting encouraged by his laid back demeanor.

“ Pfttt- so you get defensive when cornered? How cute!”, he giggled, a smile teasing at his lips at your obvious attempt to hide the shame burning in your core.

“Don’t worry, I know my way around a pussy just fine”, light hearted words fell effortlessly from his mouth and you could swear half of your brain was short circuiting because of his crude way of speaking. For all his regal appearance, he was just like any other highschooler, a year older than you but his stature and delicate features gave him a magestic aura that exceeds that of people decades older than him.

Just by the few encounters from the past, you figured he wasn’t one for following traditions or rules if it didn’t suit him. He was way above the rest, in his own distant world everytime you saw him, the school he went to, the things he had experienced were all different.

Forgetting the other's existence after passing each other by with a few formalities exchanged was all you had done with each. You two were never close or even friends but now the chance presented itself to take your non existent relationship to the extreme end through your bodies.

You wanted this.

To feel good. The hormones of youth pumping your impulsiveness you relax your muscles and lie on your back. You could clearly hear Satoru’s playfully indifferent chuckle from above when you slowly part your legs to show him the sides of yourself that even you have never completely seen.

“Just this once, okay?”

He said he was just teaching you how to masturbate but it wasn’t that simple. The only person to get naked was you and the only person who experienced the mind numbing pleasure, was also you. He only needed his deft fingers and mouth to make you feel better and for a while you didn’t even question.

That one lesson of self pleasure which you both were supposed to forget turned into an entire session as day after day Satoru would show up at your parents house unbeknownst to a soul and you both crossed the same lines of platonic relationship everyday.

The euphoria was endless but with a single rule that you weren’t allowed to touch him in turn and it goes without saying that the two of you never went all the way. It would always start with small talks about the day, even when you’d be talking, all your focus was on what was to come next.

That’s why after a few weeks of the detached pleasure he provided you, it got you thinking what he actually wanted from you. Satoru had already seen, touched and tasted all your body had to offer, never revealing any of his own.

You wondered if he ever felt sexually frustrated by always giving and never asking for anything in return. You knew he was not THAT nice. At least that’s what you believed considering his sadistic streak in bed. He did seem to be enjoying himself when he's messing you up so maybe he didn’t have many sexual urges that he needed to satisfy and was just acting on curiosity or maybe he had someone else, someone older with more experience who he didn’t constantly had a upper hand with and was able to see them as an equal. This thought alone made your chest tight, with an unnatural pain that threatened to break your heart.

You had to catch your darkening train of thought before it reached to the conclusion you were most afraid of. Knowing full well that this was just a fleeting moment that is only supposed to be enjoyed through a lens of carefree thinking, you push the budding feelings of the some very complicated emotions out of your system. The surge of jealousy you felt may have born out of falling in love with a family member but it was wrong on so many levels.

A love that starts with lust never ends well for anyone but as you were laying in his arms, the control over your body handed completely to him, your mind wondered how things would feel vice versa.

“ You seem distracted y/n”, Satoru looked at you, with his glasses off the beautiful azure eyes hidden beneath a delicate layer of white eyelashes filled your vison.

“ I’m obviously not doing it right if you have time to get lost in your thoughts”, putting you down on your bed, he started to move away and for a minute you got your hopes up, thinking your chance to finally have him completely and you cursed yourself for wanting at the same time. But no amount of berating would scrub off the insatiable thirst you had, for its roots had already made their way to your heart.

“Please let me help you too”, these few words took a lot of guts, letting go of all the inhibitions and threads of morality you fix Satoru with an unwavering gaze.

“ That’s okay babygirl, I’M the one who does the teaching here afterall”, you saw what he was trying to do, his airy yet gentle tone didn’t left much room for argument but the gray zone of your relationship was blurring to the point of confusion urged you to give into your clamoring emotions.

Without a second thought you jumped on him with all your might, closing the distance he put within seconds to cover his mouth with yours. You knew how much you weighed but despite your aggressive actions his sturdy form didn’t even deter form his position while catching you. You twirled your tongue over the roof of his mouth, the taste of your juices still lingering in there.

Hoping to have proven your resolve that wasn’t going to settle for getting brushed aside you break the kiss and look expectantly at him. An invisible bond between the two of you taking shape, strengthening the magnetism that attracted you to him.

“ That eager for my cock are you?”, Taking your face in one of his huge hand he makes you look straight at him, “You really want more? More than I'm already giving you?”, just one more push. You thought, with just a bit of coaxing, you were sure Satoru's wishy washy rules would crumble to make way for your upcoming actions.

“ I do. I know exactly what I want but”, steeling your nerves you face him, eye to eye, “ What do YOU want?”. The question was simple but the conflict swirling within Satoru’s eyes was evident and for the first time you realised that maybe this wasn’t just a case of casual hookup for him as well.

“ I want all your firsts. That’s all.” After a short stretch of silence he spoke, ironically the borderline obsessiveness of his glib response, like magic, cleared away the fog was previously clouding your mind. The nonchalance of his smirk should've been the red flag that made you rethink your life choices but the heat of the moment only seemed to ignite your lust.

Not uttering a single word, you quickly work on shedding him off his cloths, he doesn’t make any attempts at stopping you this time around, this knowledge pulling a smile out of you. By the time you reached for his boxers your hands were shaking.

Whether from excitement or nervousness you couldn’t tell but looking down through the veil of his heavy eyelashes, Satoru’s passion was evident.

Eyeing up his exposed body you still for a moment to take it all in. You ran you hands through his sculpted chest and down to his abdomen, your nails scratching the surface of his defined muscles. All of his masculinity contrasted with his oddly sweet scent and velvety pink lips that never failed to lure you in for deep soft kisses.

There’s no doubt girls must be always fawning over him and his perfectly smooth skin was something that even made you jealous. You were so captivated by his looks that you had to shake yourself free from your lovesick stupor .

You feel him up a little, hands running across his toned chest, you drag your nails through the rise and dips of his abdomen down to the contours of his defined V- line before turning your attention to his hardening member. Your breath quickens as your trembling fingers hook beneath his waistband.

Taking out his pulsating member you run your eyes up and down his entire length. He was big, to say at the very least. Bigger than you'd expected and more than you thought you could handle but backing out now would be straight up hypocrisy when your drooling mouth said otherwise.

With your ass right next to his chest, you start licking and sucking his tip with fervour, not wanting to waste even a single drop of his cum that you wanted so bad. You heard him moan lightly behind you, his voice only fuelled the fire that was burning your core. Having never given a blow job to anyone before you struggled in keeping a steady pace and his girthy cock didn’t make it any easier on you.

In just a few minutes you jaw ached and your entire face hurted but Satoru showed no signs of cumming.

In your own world again, you racked up your brain to figure out how to please him when suddenly you felt a hand climbing up your thigh. With the other hand he gripped your hips and pulled your lower half until you were straddling his mouth.

“ It’s a lot better like this don’t you think?”, as he spoke you felt his breath caressing your nether lips and you shivered in delight at the new position.

He snaked his hands in between your thighs and spread open your slit, glistening with your dripping arousal using his thumbs. Every single fold of yours now in display Satoru licked his plush lips before leaving open mouthed kisses on the exposed skin. His lips pulling out a series of appreciative hums as you desperately try to focus on your own actions.

Taking his hard length half in your mouth and half in one of your hand you tried to match the skilful movements of Satoru’s tongue that relentlessly lapped at your clit. After a few minutes of trying and failing to suck him up properly your senses got completely clouded by the heavy onslaught of that familiar release you had gotten used to.

You wanted to ask him to stop so you catch up to him but he the vigor in his actions and your own overwhelming surge of desires made you decide against it, the broken stings of his name died down with you still half choking on his length.

The only thing your lust laden mind could decipher except for pleasure was shame. To you, it was shameful how, being the one who asked to touch him, you were the one tethering near the edge. Before long your convulsing pussy was dripping with your juices, trickling down from his face that was still buried nose deep in your crotch.

Messing you up always filled Satoru with a kind of affection that he didn’t thought he was capable of.

Your cute whines getting muffled by his cock that you could only take half way past your llip sent waves of ecstasy down his spine. The cum that kept on flowing from your aching hole that he was the first to taste and the last as well took him to a high that no amount of pleasure could.

He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be the provider of your everything who had complete control over you or if he just wanted to spend hours into the night, praising every fibre of your being that was so eager to make him feel good. This duality of his thoughts confused him further and in that moment he knew he had to see this to the end.

Your heavy pants was the only thing that could be heard in the otherwise silent room, guilt and pleasure leaving you tongue tied. You move yourself from above him, your quivering body falling like a sac just beside his own.

“ I’m sorry! I couldn’t make you-“, before you could finish your breathy apology he brought up a finger near your frowning lips to quite you down.

“Its okay sugar, it was your first time. Not a big deal.”, the soft notes of his voice took the edge off of the disappointment you felt, “I told you. I’ll teach you everything.”

Those eyes. Two shining orbs of brilliant blue gazed at you in the same way you found yourself staring at him. Watching over you like it was their birthright and oddly enough, the scrutiny made you feel completly at home just like the warmth of his long arms that wrapped themselves around you.

" Realx Y/n, I'll be very thourough with my teaching, afterall,", your heart thumped loudly in your chest in response to his smooth voice, "I don't do things halfway.

The pleasent fatigue that had taken a hold of your body slowly dissipated but the growing haziness of your mind got you wondering if you were falling in deepness of his ocean blue eyes but as soon realization hit you, you were already halfway through blacking out.

That you’d never be forgiven for wanting.

From that moment on, you knew.

Part 2? Idk you tell me(╯︵╰,)

[cerastes]

May I request a review of general coolness and awesome of the horses we saw during the event?

Right, Maria Nearl event!

I liked the event quite a lot, though I do feel like it dropped the ball at the end. That aside, I had a lot of fun the entire time!

First of all, the cast was wonderful. Maria is explicitly not a powerful or skilled fighter to any degree that matters in the frame of strength the story takes place in, being definitely more skilled than the average person and even the average nameless knight, but being woefully outclassed by practically anyone that has a name in the Major. A humble mechanic with a heart drenched in justice, Maria doesn’t even like to fight, and adheres to a knightly ideal and a duty she must fulfill instead to justify her participation in these commercialized bloodsports, which carries the narrative. She is joined by a lovable cast of rambunctious family and family friends, who serve as her mentors and support: Her aunt, who is more akin to an older sister-slash-maternal figure, Zofia, who we are immediately shown is so close to Maria that the moment Maria made a big decision (the participation in the Major) without confirming with Zofia first, she immediately chastised her, wondering why she did not consult with her beforehand. Aunt Zofia is her aunt only due to technicality, as she’s a lady-in-waiting (or, in other words, belongs to a branch family of the Nearl clan, and is actually only 5 years older than Maria) and, more importantly, a decorated, retired competition knight who earned enough in her career that she can live comfortably for the rest of her life, ironically far outstripping the main Nearl house in terms of wealth. There’s also Kowal, an old Ursus mechanic, engineer and smith who mentors Maria in the ways of the wrench, willing to pass his workshop to Maria with her as his successor any day of the week, who himself also used to be a squire to V, an old, retired knight of old who served as Grandpa Nearl’s peerless sharpshooter and who trained Zofia back in the day. Finally, we have Old Marcin, owner of the cast’s favorite hangout, a little bar where he and Maria mediate the infinite squabbles, fights, and arguments that Kowal, V, and occasionally Zofia spark between one another. The event does a great work of introducing the dynamic between these five characters as something extremely domestic and comfortable: You can tell these five are tight and that they have spent a long time together. It’s just another day in their low profile lives when, suddenly, Maria dons Margaret’s old armor and decides to take arms for the main Nearl house, which is currently on the brink of ruin and about to lose its knighthood and nobility titles.

And this decision, and everything this decision means, informs everything that happens afterwards: Zofia tells Maria that if she’s worried about being left homeless, then that’s just foolishness, since Zofia is absolutely 100% ok with Maria moving in with her. She’s loaded. They can live comfortably for the rest of their lives without a concern. Kowal, likewise, insists that Maria is a good enough mechanic that she can earn a living by doing that. But, see, it’s not about a livelihood for Maria, it’s about preserving that for which Margaret and Grandpa Nearl fought and stood for, it’s never about the wealth, it’s about the name, the principle, not the glory, the weight of ideals that blood was shed to nourish and maintain. Maria is not even sure if she’s doing the right thing, but she’s got to do something. Why? Look no further than Uncle Mlynar. A bitter man, a corporate slave, spitting bile at her niece and apologies at his bosses. And the fact that it is very clear that this guy can kick some serious ass -- we never see him without his trusty blade hanging on his hip and, at the end, tells Margaret to square the hell up -- makes it all the sadder: In any other context, Mlynar might be a knight’s knight, hell, Margaret herself says she respects him still, but the Mlynar we see now is an unimportant cog in the capitalist system, just another grunt apologizing to his phone every time his lips part, who gets in hot water just by making small talk because, whoops, your workload accumulated again, better get chop chopping. Mlynar is a very telling character, because he represents everything Maria resents about the current state of the Nearl family: Disgraced, meaningless, existing as an extension of other bigger conglomerates. He is what she wishes to never become, and what the Nearl house cannot be any longer, if she has any saying on the matter.

Maria is not a good fighter. This is important and delightful, because she wins not due to aptitude, strength, or experience, she instead uses her knowledge as a mechanic, her “pegasian sight” (what Grandpa uses to refer to Maria’s incredibly powerful investigative faculties, being able to analyze situations and catch even the smallest details quickly) and the sheer heft of her brass pair of metaphorical horse balls to pull through with clutch victory after clutch victory. Zofia trying to cram as much fundamentals as she can on Maria in as little time as possible so she can survive also helps a lot.

Maria’s victories earn her the possibility of sponsorships, which would, superficially, fix her problems: The main Nearl house would retain status, she’d get a Title, and she would not have to fight anymore. But, see, this is not the point of Maria’s fight. One might say “Maria should’ve just taken the sponsorships”, but that’s not the point of Maria’s fight. She is pushing back against this highly commercialized view on “knighthood”, just like Margaret before her did. Margaret had a clear intent and her passions made her act mostly in anger, as she makes no secret: She hates Kazimierz for what it has become. Maria’s intent is less clear, even to herself, but she’s very much aiming for the same thing, but instead of Margaret’s anger, Maria has her determination. To have taken any sponsorship would have superficially kept the Nearl house afloat, but Maria is not looking to keep the house alone afloat, she’s looking to keep the house and the ideals in which it was built afloat. It goes beyond mere status.

In a world as bleak as Arknights’ and specially Kazimierz, Maria is no doubt naive to the point of frustration... But it is that which we call naive that makes a knight’s knight: Chivalry forged from ideals, sacrifice’s blunt borne from beliefs. The easy way out would’ve ultimately doomed her story, hence why she did not just move in with Zofia, hence why she did not just succeed Kowal and accept his workshop, hence why did not accept a sponsorship: It never was about that.

The very first event of the game, Grani’s Treasure, takes place in Kazimierz as well, but in the isolated outskirts, and we see hard-working, honest people, inhabitants of a nice little scenic hamlet. Now, we see what Kazimierz really looks like: A sprawling megalopolis of neon and concrete where the system shamelessly feeds on whoever sticks out their neck. The contrast couldn’t be harsher, and any hell is upheld by its demons: Czarny was a fascinating character, in that he very clearly held a lot of influence and power... And was extremely replaceable. The moment he messed up badly enough, he was instantly replaced by just whoever the hell picked up the phone next. It’s chilling. One puppet performed poorly? Irrelevant, there’s an endless supply who’ll take his place, provided enough fear and funds. Fear and money. The two currencies of Kazimierz. When a shadow council can just appoint you as the next Spokesman just on basis of you having picked up a phone without any real background check beyond “the previous Spokesman likely intended for this next sack of meat to pick up his phone in case he messed up”, well, congratulations, you’ve crafted a terrifying capitalist hellscape. No wonder Margaret hates Kazimierz so much, given the rot brewing in its underbelly and upper echelons.

And to all this, I have to say: It’s lovely. I loved the world building, implicit and explicit, I loved the cast, I love the themes explored and how characters were used to juxtapose these.

I feel it kinda drops the ball at the end by just... Not having a conclusion? It just sort of ends, which is very weird because events tend to be good at concluding themselves. I assumed we’d get some post-Challenge stages cutscenes to tie everything up like in the past but... No, not really, it didn’t happen. Margaret swoops in, the sisters perform the Ultimate Kamehameha on the Sarkazian Knights, and then it sort of ends one brief talk later. It needed a bigger epilogue, for sure. But this doesn’t ruin the event or anything, just a bit of a weak ending, everything else is still delightful and I loved it very much.

So yeah! The horses sure were wonderful!

[onedivinemisfit]

During my recovery, this has been my biggest project, no kidding. I looked but couldn’t find Obi’s witcher!AU body template so I sketched some Bruxa!yuki designs instead. <w< I’ll finalize and colour them when I’m well, or so I hope, unless I forget XD

Pls forgive any mistakes I’m not 100% yet. ^^; 

Explanations below the cut~

AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata Witcher (c) Andrzej Sapkowski TW3 models (c) CDPR Art: Me

Disclaimer: I am not a tailor and as such all my opinions are based on preference and evt pushing rules in my favour XD

The main idea with her wardrobe was to underline that whatever she’s doing, Shirayuki is feminine, and wants to present feminine, hence the skirts and ribbons and embroidery. She’s also a person fond of utility, so belts, pockets, and layers that can be added or removed as she fancied, was also an important facet to add. But she’s also bruxae, monster species, so she’s got a few blind spots, so to speak, regarding what is and isn’t proper to wear in human society. But most of all, her clothes make it easy for her to use her bruxa powers to move around swiftly, silently, and with purpose

Around half of these were referenced from the witcher 3 game, with me picking my favourite garb, and what made more sense for her in different situations. 

1. Huntress Outfit - this one I made myself, using only some of the basic wardrobe notes from tw3. I’ve a softness for overdresses/kaftans with splits, especially if they’re combined with tights/buckskins. Shirayuki is a poor bruxa living in the woods outside a small human settlement, so she doesn’t have access to a tailor other than on market day, or when peddlers arrive, hence she often has to redesign old/too-small clothing for new purposes. Another point was to reinforce her sleeves, to make it easier to brush away branches and undergrowth, and adding the Skelligan waist shawl, a gift from her half-sister, as recurring themes.

2. Winter Outfit - another I made myself, because I was dying to design something that included a sheepskin jerkin. The waist shawl helps redefine the jerkin and give it a feminine twist, and the wrapped sleeves both reduce noise and keeps her cuffs from leaking precious warmth. The wool tunic could have been a dress, but I wanted to focus on showing off her fur-tucked winter boots and knitted long socks. Shirayuki probably knitted them herself.

3. High Summer Outfit - another self-made design. Made so as to underline her non-humanness, borrowing heavily from witcher elven aesthetics, with lots of exposed skin, crossed fabric, and asymmetrical cuts. This is what she wears when the weather *won’t* allow you to dress decently or you get purged by the sun, basically. Again, since Shirayuki’s often short of fabric, a lot of refashioning going on. 

4. Commoner Outfit - A very basic woman’s dress, very presentable, very respectable, especially since Shirayuki is trying to sell the lie that she’s a normal human woman. It’s her go-to outfit for visiting human settlements, or for performing simple chores around the house, such as cooking, sewing, or spinning. Things that keep her in or around her homestead, and not gallivanting in the woods at midnight looking for prey.

5. Relaxing Outfit - merely a dusty day dress pulled over her nightgown, for those chilly nights where Shirayuki doesn’t want to undress for bed until she’s halfway under the covers. When the chores are done and all that’s left to do is sip a cup of blood, read a book beside the hearth and wait for Ryuu to return from his late night wandering, she likes to shed all those layers and relax.

6. Throw-together Outfit - referenced from the game, almost entirely (Keira Metz’ witch model) - save the shoes and headband. After the loss of her home and her more presentable clothing thanks to witcher Obi (who will later admit that yes he does in fact owe her a new dress... and blouse... and apron...) this outfit was assembled through raiding an abandoned witch’s hut. Anything that could suffice as clothing, basically, even the old curtains. Shirayuki doesn’t personally care that some of her *assets* are pretty much on display, but she would like some linen anyway, the cotton does chafe a bit. Aside from the pearl necklace, nothing she’s wearing actually belonged to her in the first place.

7. Formal Commoner Outfit - reffed from the game, (Keira Metz’ second model) the shoes being the sole exception. A dress for special occassions, perhaps May Day, Equinox celebrations, etc. Not that Shirayuki often dared participate in such events, due to the amount of people who show up even in small villages to throw tankards together and dance around bonfires. But she does pilfer the dress from the abandoned witch’s hut anyway, thinking maybe, afterall, since it’s so pretty and it had matching sleeves to go with it... keeping it wasn’t such a dumb idea. 

8. Pants Outfit - reffed from the game (juggler npc) A cross between a traveler and a city dweller, a light-weight yet very elegant outfit for strolling in the human cities. The top is presentable enough that she doesn’t look poor as a pauper, while the pants give the impression of someone on the move, a stranger. It also provides the most comfortable riding experience, the few times she does ride, as she has no need for a lady’s saddle.

9. High-Class Outfit - reffed from the game/one of my favourite tw3 modders, (New Sorceress models by Roksa) I only added the shoes and circlet. When Zen has the dress made for her, it is by FAR the most expensive thing she’s ever worn. Not a single thread of the dress isn’t well-made, the dyes are the brightest and most even-coloured, and the silk is light as a touch on her skin. While the dress itself is a demure, feminine dream, what sets the ensemble apart are the dark cat’s eye gems, just hinting at Shirayuki’s darker secrets. They’re set in gold, for obvious, unspoken reasons, as she reacts to silver much like being set on fire...

10. Evening Outfit - reffed from the game, I just changed the necklace (Ida Eméan’s Gwent card art) another very expensive dress, but surprisingly one that Shirayuki tolerates better. No stiff, itchy velvet, no heavy damask, just sheer silk with gold thread (again for reasons obvious to a bruxa) some simple sleeves, and a chain of stones, no gilded jewellry that could empty a bank vault if sold to the right people. She probably takes a fancy to this dress while attempting to woo a certain witcher, which explains the understated beauty, the most daring of cuts, one that screams “look at me, only me” and the simple-at-a-glance design. Much like Shirayuki herself.

11. Skellige Outfit - inspired by the viking-esque game design for Skellige fashion, this dress is for when Shirayuki and her family stay in the Isles, following her sister’s suggestion. A dress that signifies the matron head of a household with its pewter clasps and apron, follows Skellige fashion demanding you wear a shawl with your clan colors (Shirayuki, although clan-less, was given one by Torou) and layers. And armguards. And a split overdress. To show that this is Shirayuki’s choice wear afterall. 

[jungwooisms]

pairing: tailor!jungwoo x female!bookbinder!reader   genre: fluff, angst, smut, period piece others: nakamoto yuta, suh johnny, moon taeil, park sooyoung, lee donghyuck (mentioned), kim doyoung (mentioned), lee ten (mentioned), lee taeyong (mentioned) warnings: cursing, sexual content (unprotected sex, oral f. & m. receiving), drinking, an overabundance of 60′s references, unrequited love word count: 20k

It's autumn in New York that brings the promise of new love Autumn in New York is often mingled with pain Dreamers with empty hands may sigh for exotic lands It's autumn in New York It's good to live it again

1963, Autumn. The small knife in hand cuts through the thin leather with relative ease, stopping at the point you’d marked with a small piece of chalk, you switch to cut the other end of the material. You eye the coffee sitting on the opposite end of your work bench, watching the steam rise from the cup that you’d barely taken a drink from. It was only nine in the morning and you hadn’t slept well the night before, had there not been any orders to fill you would have slept in a while longer. 

With the leather finally cut into its allotted pieces you go to move to the bound paper you were trying to cover before you hear someone walk in. The chimes above the door at the front of your shop sound off with a soft resonance, the same sound that had echoed the room for years. Footsteps treading carefully into the center of your shop, you can’t eye the stranger from your closed off workshop unless you open the heavy wooden door. 

A quiet “Hello?” rings out, they sound apprehensive and unfamiliar to you. There’s a tinged worry that treads on the lone word, leaving you all the more perplexed as you set down the leather and the semicircular knife onto your workshop table and head out into the main gallery of your shop. 

“Can I help you?” Question falling from your lips as soon as you begin to push open the oak door, finding a taller man looking down at one of the fabric laden books on one of the display tables. 

“Oh,” his attention turns to you from the book, to the doorway you’d entered from and then back to you.  The horn-rimmed glasses adorning his face slipping down the bridge of his nose. “I’m here to pick up an order for Moon Taeil.” His slender hand moves from its once stagnant position to push the glasses back up before moving to his right-side front pocket, “I can show you the receipt if you need it—”

“There’s no need,” you shake your head and raise your hand. Taeil had been a longtime customer of your family’s shop, you assume it’s mostly because of a mutual acquaintance with the Suh clan, but you would never be the one to edge into that conversation unprovoked. “I’ll go and grab your order,” a short smile and you’re turning on your heels and striding into your storeroom/workshop once more. 

When you walk back out a few moments later, the books wrapped in brown paper to protect their covers, the stranger is once again looking down at the assortment of books atop your display tables. 

“So,” you begin as you hold out the bound books to him, “are you new? I don’t think Taeil’s sent you before.”

He takes the books gingerly, his gaze returning to the soft leather-bound journal after he gives you a short nod in thanks. As if it took him a moment to process the question he blinks and turns back to you, “Sorry— My name’s Jungwoo Kim. I started working for Taeil last week.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you nod, trying to register the face with the name as comprehensively as you could. “Tell him to give me a ring when he needs his next order, I know he goes through those fairly quickly.”

“I will,” Jungwoo smiles, “Before I go do you think I could buy this?” His head nods down to the leather-bound journal he’d been eyeing earlier, “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

A small smile gracing your lips, “Of course, it’s unlined though. Is that alright?”

“It’s perfect, thank you,” he says as you pick up the book as his hands were already burdened with his boss’ order. “How much do I owe you?”

“No charge,” you shake your head, fingers tightening along the spine. It’s smooth but the ridges of the leather run coarse under your touch, “Think of it as a congratulatory gift for getting a job under Moon. I know he has a reputation for being a bit of a—”

“Hard-ass?” Jungwoo muses, eyes widening as he realizes how he’s just insulted his boss. “And really, I can pay for that, I’m sure it must’ve taken you a while to make it.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s the exact term I was looking for, but it does fit,” you laugh, raising the book up. “Don’t worry about it, do you want me to wrap it?” 

“If you could,” he offers a smile as you move to the roll of brown paper atop the register table. 

It only takes a minute for you to cover it, you’d done hundreds, if not thousands, of wrappings for novels and books. Once you finish tying the twine bow atop the journal, you gently stack it on the books Jungwoo holds. 

“I hope to see you here again, Mr. Kim. That is, if Taeil doesn’t scare you off.”

“He’s like a weird mix of my dad and what I’d expect Hardy Amies to be,” you weren’t sure exactly who Amies is or what Jungwoo’s father was like, but you did know Taeil. Oddities and all. “And don’t worry, I have a stronger resolve than most,” he shoots you a wink before spinning on his heels and heading towards the door. He calls out a, “Thanks again for the book,” before shoving the door open with his hip and losing himself in the crowd of the street outside.

1963, Winter There was nothing quite like the holiday season in New York. Shops elevated the grandeur of their storefronts to catch the eye of window shoppers. Your own shop had seen an influx of patrons, as was typically the case around this time of year. But the demands were great, your hands had the slew of papercuts and hastily put on bandages to show it. Not that you minded it all too much, it was great revenue and it had paid for the camel hair coat you donned this evening. 

The city was abuzz with life and festivities along almost every street, and while the excitement from Hanukkah and Christmas had died down over the last few weeks, most now looked towards the reining in of a New Year as December thirty first arrived. 

“We’re going to be late,” Yuta’s arm slides under yours, the crux of his arm locking into yours as his pace quickens along the dimly lit street. The sound of his derbies clicking against the pavement reverberating around the nearly empty row of houses. 

“It’s ten and we’re going to a New Year’s Eve party, I doubt we’ll be late, Yuta.” You let out a scoff, fumbling with your bag for a moment, not sure what you were searching for in the first place. The streetlamp’s orangey glow not aiding you in deciphering the numbers etched into the doorways of the homes. 

“Says the person who took five years to pick out a jacket, I’m surprised we got out of your apartment before my hair turned gray— Wait a minute,” his fingers of his free hand trailing up to the dyed platinum locks on his head as he turns back to shoot you a glare, “It did.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” eyes rolling, you nudge him with your shoulder “It’s not my fault your stylist bleached you instead of dyeing you.”

“I feel like an idiot, they can’t even see me to fix it for another week.” He groans as the pair of you make your way to a brownstone tucked away neatly into one of the city’s streets. It would be innocuous from the others aligning the strip had you not been able to hear the gentle buzz of chatter and the occasional laugh drift out from the screened door. 

“Did Suh invite the whole block?” Yuta murmurs as he lets go of your arm so that he can jump up the short handful of stairs to the front door two by two. 

“It would explain how dead the rest of the street seems,” Musing, you follow him, more carefully as you’d always seemed prone to falling up stairs. The voices grow in volume and now you can even hear the scratchy sound of some music floating from the door. There’s no one at the door to greet you when you walk in, just an array of faces that you seem to recognize while others are brand new acquaintances, Yuta and you drop off your coats in a nearby closet and shuffle your way inside in search for the nearest drink station.

“I’d say his house is beautiful, but I can barely see anything. How does he know this many people,” Yuta questions as he slides out of the way of someone’s elbow almost hitting him in the stomach, “All I want is to get slightly drunk tonight but I bet the alcohol’s already gone.” 

“It’s the Suh household you know that’s not going to happen,” a snicker leaves you before you feel a gentle tapping on your shoulder. Stopping in your tracks you’re fully ready to meet Johnathan Suh’s smirk and subsequent banter, but it takes you a minute to realize that it wasn’t your childhood friend that had garnered your attention at all; instead, it was a somewhat less familiar face.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Jungwoo’s cheeks are slightly flushed with a smile, the contents of his champagne glass half-empty as he poses the question, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, sure.” You return his smile, nodding your head as he begins to walk off, only stopped by someone calling out to him.

“I didn’t know Pincushion would be here,” Yuta’s voice draws nearer behind you, it seems like he realized you weren’t trailing after him anymore. You feel his hand land on your shoulder as he continues to talk to Jungwoo, “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks.” He taps his shoe on the floor, only stepping forward a little bit to let someone pass by behind him.

“Pincushion?” You question, looking from Yuta to Jungwoo with a quizzical look on your brow.

“That thing he wears around his wrist every time he comes in?” Yuta shrugs, “I couldn’t remember his name the first time I saw him, but I could remember that. Hence: Pincushion.” 

“Is that what it’s called?” You recall the ball of velvety looking green fabric you’d seen on Jungwoo’s wrist the last handful of times he’d come to pick up the tailor shop’s orders. 

“Yeah my grandma used to have one and I stole the needles from it to use as swords for my toys when I was a kid,” his shoulders shrug as he looks past Jungwoo and spots something beyond him. “I see one of those guys with a tray of drinks, I’ll get back to you in a bit.” And with that he’s off, sliding around you and Jungwoo to brush his way through the crowd in a frantic sprint to grab himself a glass.

“Does he know that there’s an open bar in the other room?” Jungwoo asks aloud as he watches your friend disappear into the crowd.

“Not yet but give him twenty minutes and I’m sure he’ll be all over it.” Yuta wasn’t one to drink heavily often, it was more of a holiday thing where he only did it if he knew he wasn’t going into work for the next few days. Needless to say, that Christmas and New Years are binge drinking galore for him. 

“So, book binding? How’d you get into that line of work?” You’d been so concentrated on looking for your friend’s brightly colored hair that you almost didn’t hear Jungwoo when he asked. 

“Family business, dad’s too sick to come in.” Your eyes flickering over to him, a small shrug of your shoulders.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” his brow contorts into worry for a moment, as if he’d offended you somehow. 

“Don’t be, if anything I think he’s playing it up a bit just so mom has to be around more often,” You smile, it was really only minor back issues but the doctor had prescribed bed rest and your father had been milking it for months now. 

“Smart man,” a short laugh into his drink before he takes a sip from his glass. “So, how do you know John?”

“Old family friend, plus he’s as rich as all get out so it’s nice to see what it’s like.” You note, looking up to the chandelier overhead. If it were anything but Tiffany you’d be surprised. “What about you?”

“You didn’t hear this from me but Taeil might be secretly dating one of his sisters and she invited the whole shop just as an excuse to see him.” The two of you lock eyes, a playful smirk on his lips dancing in the warm glow of the room. “I’m not complaining.”

“I don’t doubt it,” chuckling for a moment, you then look up as if you’ve realized something. “I should probably go and greet the host; can you imagine how rude of a guest I’d be if I didn’t?”

A ceding nod as he steps away from you, gesturing with his glass towards a side room off the main hall, “I think I saw him in there a few minutes ago.”

“Thanks, Jungwoo,” you move to pass him, heading towards the doorway before you stop for a moment, your head tilting in question, “Want to meet back up later?”

“I’d love that,” a gentle thud in your chest as you nod at him, beginning to move again and question the feeling that had plagued you enough to ask him that. 

You don’t find Johnny in that room, or the next, or even upstairs in his own bedroom. You do, however, find him on the second-floor fire escape, the butts of several cigarettes at his feet and a glass of whiskey in his hand. It’s cold, had you known this would be where you’d speak you would’ve brought your coat with you.

“Johnathan Suh,” You begin, crouching down to duck through the open window, catching him as he’s begun to lean against the brick exterior of his home, “Hiding away from your party again?”

“The guest of the hour,” A grin as you walk towards him, “How are you? I haven’t seen you at all in the past few months.”

“I’m good, good… It’s been so hectic with the seasonal shopping and all, who knew journals were a hot commodity for gift-giving?” You sigh, elbows resting against the cold fence of the escape. The time between now and the last you’d seen him had been great, but it had always been far and few in between when it came to his jet setting tendencies. 

“Sounds hellish for sure,” Musing, he takes a sip from his glass, the scent of whisky hitting your nose as it nears. His other hand rests atop the rusted metal of the fire escape, impatiently tapping as he looks out into the backyard of his home.

“And what about you, Mr. Start-Up? Tear down any more conglomerates recently?” You query, noticing that he was on one of his inward treks again. Something must’ve come up with his family.  

A snicker, as he offers out his glass to you, noticing that your hands were painfully empty, “No, but we’re working on a pretty big acquisition right now. It’s all mind games and if I didn’t make a shitload of money I’d be out of this business.” 

“Lucky you though, you’re able to retire at thirty-five if you really wanted to,” musing as you swirl around the contents of the glass, the ice inside clinking around. 

He laughs, the cold air mixing with his breath in plumes of white that spiral into the nighttime. You push yourself from the wall, bringing the glass to your lips and downing the rest of the contents as quickly as you can, “This isn’t the time to be hard on yourself, John. I think the countdown’s about to start,” a look at the small wristwatch on your wrist, the time indicating that you had about five minutes until the new year began.

“Shit,” the word elongated exasperatedly as he leans over to catch a glance at the clock face, “Let’s get back out there.”

The two of you amble inside, your cheeks cold with the winter air and hands a little stiff from holding the glass for too long. You set it down on one of the various demilunes scattered around the hall as you make your way back into Johnny’s living room. He’s lost along the way, pulled into a group of businessmen to talk or fawning girls to cajole with, you’re not sure which at this point. All you’re trying to do is find someone you know. 

You can try to push through the crowds to find John, but at this point it’d be like trying to part the Red Sea with your own two hands and it was infeasible to say the least. Or you could head to one of the drink stations around the house in hopes to find Yuta, but he was as elusive as a snake and it’d be a miracle if you could find him before the clock struck midnight.

“Sixty!” A choir of voices ring out from a nearby room, you think you can hear John’s voice rising above them all, but it might also be your ears playing tricks on you.

“Are they really counting down the entire minute?” The voice next to you startling you so much that you jump, turning, you see Kim Jungwoo looking off in the direction of the countdown. His brow furrowing in confusion, “I at least thought it’d be the last ten seconds or something.”

“Jesus Jungwoo,” hand over your heart as you try and catch your breath, “You almost scared me to death.”

A laugh, “Sorry about that, I’m a little light on my feet.”

It also didn’t help that you could barely hear with the throng of people surrounding you. The gaiety electrifies the room, as it does the entire world when on the eve of a brand-new start. 

“Did you want me to help you find one of your friends? I’m sure they couldn’t have gone too far,” his height somewhat advantageous to him as he scans the crowd, not seeing you shake your head as the countdown reaches thirty.

“I think I’m fine just staying with you,” you don’t notice the way he tenses ever so slightly at your words, a more rouge tint to his cheeks as he looks back to you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you sure?” Eyes widening as your gazes’ lock and you feel the familiar warmth creeping up the back of your neck.

“If that’s okay with you?” You question, the countdown hitting fifteen.

“That’s great— fine, it’s— yeah,” he trips and stumbles over his words, trying to find solid ground somewhere on the confab plain. It’s at that moment the countdown comes to ten, and the pair of you join in for the last seconds of 1963.

Five, four, three, two — 

“Happy New Year!” 

The clock had struck midnight and he was the closest one to you, you can’t remember if it was you or him that pulled the other closer to share a kiss. The kiss was chaste, but it resounded around your ribcage like the booming of the fireworks being shot off a distant skyscraper. A smile on your lips as you mouth back your own, “Happy New Year!” Despite it being innocent in nature, you know with the way the feeling buzzes on your lips you yearn for something more.

1964, Early Spring. The two of you’d spent time together since that evening, outside of that transactional relationship formed in the commerce of you selling your journals and him picking them up for Taeil whenever he could. It was outside of that realm, more personal as the days, weeks and months had transgressed. 

By some miraculous circumstance, and no less of your incessant mentioning, you and Jungwoo had been seeing each other on a regular basis 

“Taeil?” The door of the tailor shop opens with nothing short of a struggle. The heavy oak pressing back against your foot as you pry it open, your hands too full to push it. 

“Need some help?” A voice behind you, startling you so much that you almost drop the large stack of books in your hand. You look over your shoulder to see Jungwoo standing behind you, his head tilted as if to question how you’d made it this far on your own.

“Thanks,” allowing him to brush past you, he steps into the shop and holds the door open wider as you enter. “Where is everyone?” Noticing that the usual handful of other tailors didn’t seem to be aimlessly roaming the store waiting for a customer to arrive.

“Busy,” He notes, motioning for you to hand him the plethora of journals. Obliging willingly, you hand them off and stretch your arms, surely the strain from the hardbacks would pull your finger muscles. “There’s been an emergency tailoring session, some big shot’s in town and needs alterations done for some party they’re throwing tomorrow night.”

“Explains why no one came to pick up the order today,” you muse, “Shouldn’t you be helping with that?”

“I will be in about an hour,” he sighs as if he’s already imagining the work that he’ll need to put in this evening. “But someone had to watch over the shop today.” 

“Do you want company while you wait?”

You’re not sure how you’d gotten roped into staying with Jungwoo until well after the sun had set and the last customer had come in for the day. The lights of the shop are off, save for the small lamp that sits above Jungwoo’s workstation. He sits at his little desk in the back corner of the shop as he sews and hems away. His eyes scan the notes the patron had given when they’d dropped off the clothes, you had to squint to try and read the messy scrawl etched onto the parchment. You sit some desks away, flipping through some editorial detailing the up and coming designers of the fashion world but nothing was particularly catching your eye.

“Three alterations in one night, Taeil’s really trying to work us to the bone,” Jungwoo sighs exasperatedly, his hands falling atop his desk, a needle held between his right index and thumb while his other hand holds the garment he’d been attending to.

“Doesn’t it take a week to do something for just one piece?” You ask, not too versed on the schematics of it all, just acutely aware of when your father had needed suits adjusted as he aged.

“Normally,” he glances over to you, a hazy impatience settling behind his brow as he thinks to the two other pieces he was set to mend. “But it’s nine-thirty now and the guy wants them done by noon tomorrow,” Jungwoo almost barks out a laugh at the absurdity of it all, “I didn’t even get the roughest pieces, Doyoung’ll be up all night and finish five minutes beforehand if he’s lucky.”

“What are they making him do?” Magazine set aside as you stand to stretch, your legs numb with the fuzziness of pinched nerves.

“Some simple inseam stuff like I’m doing, but also taking in a few jacket sleeves and fixing shoulder divots,” He says as if you know what he’s talking about, upon seeing the puzzled expression that paints itself on your face he explains a little more, “It’s nearly impossible to do with the amount of time we’ve been given.”

“Why’d Taeil accept this job then?” Pins and needles poking through your skin as you walk over to him to take a look at what he was working on.

“Because the client’s paying us a fortune,” setting the needle down he pulls a pin from the cushion around his wrist to situate it into an odd angle in the fabric in front of him, “I might actually be able to take you on a real date if I finish this in time.”

“I’ve kind of liked the ice cream socials,” you shrug your shoulders, as he turns to look at you, “And all of the gritty little dives, it’s more memorable that way. Plus, it makes me a cheap date.”

A small ‘tch’ leaving him as he turns back to his work, “You deserve more than that.”

“As long as you’re there I’ll be fine,” you lean down to press a kiss on his cheek, “Now I’ll stop distracting you, I’ll make dinner or lunch or something because I know you’ll be dead on your feet tomorrow.”

“Try and get to bed early,” he says as you go to grab your things from where you’d left them up front, “I know you like to overwork yourself too.”

1964, Summer When you’d been invited to Jungwoo’s small apartment, you’d expected a small dinner and then maybe you’d go and watch television or explore the city afterwards. What you hadn’t expected was to see dark plumes of smoke emitting from under the doorway. You don’t knock, instead you barge into the apartment to find Jungwoo unlatching his windows and opening them to let the smoke escape, the source of the plumes coming from his small kitchen. 

“What happened?” You call out as he turns to you, your hand rising to your face as if it could vanquish the putrid smell. 

“I cooked,” the last window opens with a struggle, Jungwoo’s arms ache with how much force he had to exert when opening it. He shuffles over to you, seeing that you’d walked into the kitchen to find the source of it all.

“You… cooked....” A charred, black entity sits in a pan that Jungwoo had presumably pulled from the oven minutes prior. “Jungwoo what is that?”

“A loaf!” An almost excited tone cutting through your confusion as you turn and tilt your head at him.

“A… loaf of?”

“Meat!” At least he’s trying to sound cheerful, but that was his disposition most of the time. His hand guides your gaze over to a handwritten recipe atop the counter, he must’ve gotten it from some program. “I followed Julia Child’s recipe.” 

“I’m not trying to be mean but that looks like a brick.” Gaze flickering back to the meat-brick. 

“Yeah,” a sigh as he picks up a nearby spatula, grazing it atop the burnt meat, it scrapes atop it rather than giving way at all, “It’s about as hard as one too.”

The utter exasperation breaking through in his voice cause enough for you to laugh, the absurdity of it all pricking tears into the corners of your eyes. “We can try and salvage it,” you offer once you calm yourself down enough, the occasional chuckle flitting like a bird around your ribcage.

“Let’s just go to Le Pavilion or something, there’s also a new movie out too, we can try and catch it if we eat fast enough.”

And you do. For some reason Jungwoo orders the most expensive dish on the menu and doesn’t even like it, offering it to you instead with an abysmal pout that almost has you reeling in the small interior of the restaurant. The atmosphere is warm and jovial, met by the sinking sun as the two of you exit the venue, hands interlocked with a faint tightness as if you never wanted to be without him in your grasp again. Jungwoo and you then walk to a theater some blocks away, hands still held and a bubbling silence between you.

The film that Jungwoo had mentioned earlier had been Mary Poppins, some Disney flick starring Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke; you’re sure you’d heard Andrews somewhere before, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. 

“I didn’t realize they could combine live action and cartoons like that,” Jungwoo’s voice full of childlike wonder as the pair of you exit the cinema. The smell of popcorn wafts out of the theater’s doors and the bright bulbs of the marquee overhead creates a strange glow contrasted to the nighttime sky. 

“I didn’t either,” you note as a few kids brush past you and begin to race down the street, their voices carrying off into the night. It brings a small smile to your lips as you watch them gallivant around, not a care in the world as they continue to chase one another.

“Do you want me to walk with you back to your place?” Jungwoo offers, extending his hand out to you. You don’t answer aloud, instead just take his hand into yours and begin to walk the steadily emptying streets.

“Have you always lived in the city, Jungwoo?” It takes a moment for you to speak again, instead of just admiring the way that the lights glint off of passing windows and the rumblings of the cars that pass to your left drown out in the other amblings of the city.

“No, my family actually lives up north a little way away.” He hums to himself as he thinks, “I thought I’d always be stuck up there too, but I got the offer from Taeil and moved here as fast as I could. Although I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it at times.”

“I see,” you mutter, not knowing the feeling of leaving your home. It was a foreign concept to say the least, for almost the entirety of your life you’d know you were going to take over your father’s shop one day, and you’d been complacent in the matter. You’d had your hobbies that you dabbled in, but this was a nostalgic comfort that would and had transitioned into your livelihood that would take you no where else other than the little shop you call your own. “Would you want to move back?”

“Maybe when I’m older, sure. But I want to see the world first,” he nods his head, a twitch in his hand as he holds yours, “there’s so much I haven’t done or seen.”

It was a reckless ambition, but Jungwoo lived in that fantasy of the unknown, he had for all of his life. That was what he knew and all he abided by. You’d be fooling yourself if you didn’t worry for him at times, but he’d made it so far and you were curious to see where he was going. There was a creative longing, a desire to make, within him that no one else you’d come across had.

“I love you.” The words aren’t romantic when they fall from your mouth, when they’re swept up in the humidity of the summer air and ring around both his and your ears. This was more of a reckoning, a realization of the culmination of your growing feelings towards him since you’d met him almost a year ago now. A weight you hadn’t realized was there lifting from your chest, a songbird free from a gilded cage.

Jungwoo pauses, his feet stopping on the concrete as you continue to walk, only pulled back when you meet resistance. So, you stop yourself, turning back to look at him, a little ‘o’ on his lips and a confused look gracing his features. Had you said it too early? Or did he not reciprocate your feelings?

“You beat me to it,” a small pout emerging onto his lower lip, “I love you too.”

1964, Autumn “I can’t imagine those are comfortable.” You’re sure the clacking of your shoes could be hear miles away, with the obnoxious way they hit the sidewalk. They were pinching your toes too, and you might as well have put a band-aid on the backs of your heels because they were definitely going to be blistered tomorrow morning.

“They most certainly aren’t, but they are cute.” You note, standing on your toes so you can click the red slippers together three times at the heel. “

Jungwoo stands at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to your apartment, offering out his hand for you to grasp when you carefully make your way down the steps. As opposed to the cool air that had begun to settle into the city, his hand offers warmth against your bare skin as his fingers intertwine with yours.

“Which way to Yuta’s?” He questions, looking over your costume for the evening.

“He lives over in Flatiron, kind of near the shop so it won’t be too far of a walk.” You notice him looking at the checkered dress and bright shoes. “Was Dorthey not a good idea, Mr. Holmes?” Noting his outfit of choice, the pipe held in his free hand, the detective cap as well as the cape to match.

“I think you look cute,” Looking away from you and towards the street you’d begun to walk down.

Yuta’s apartment was small, it being so led to more intimate parties than one would find at John Suh’s home, in a way you appreciated it a little more. Bigger parties with unfamiliar faces made you feel as if you had to act less like yourself and more robotic in your interactions.

“I’ll let you in if you promise not to chuck my house to Oz,” Yuta asks as he joking cracks open his front door as the two of you stand in front of it, “And Pincushion here doesn’t try and solve a murder or two.”

“Hmm I guess that’s doable, right?” You play along, turning to Jungwoo to confirm.

“It might take some restraint but I’m sure I can manage.” Hand under his chin as if he’s deep in thought.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Yuta sighs and swings the door open, “Drinks in the kitchen, I think Hyuck’s trying to do a comedy-musical routine in the living room. I’d steer clear because he’s trying out ‘audience participation’ tonight.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” You laugh as you walk inside, the warmth of the room exacerbated by the sheer number of people crammed into the tiny space.

“I do kind of want to check out Hyuck’s thing,” You mention to Jungwoo after you find a space where the two of you can stand unimpeded.

“I don’t know if I can stomach that quite yet, want me to grab you a drink in the meantime?” Jungwoo asks, looking towards the kitchen and the few people filtering in and out of it.

“That’d be great,” a smile and then Jungwoo’s off to struggle his way through the packed room.

Lip bitten you try and look through the crowd, but the drawls of laughter tell you almost exactly where Donghyuck’s giving his tri-annual standup show. It’s shoulder to shoulder and you can barely hear him over the other going-ons of the party but from what you can ascertain it’s pretty funny.

“Happy Halloween!” A hand on your side as they call out, you turn, and it takes you a moment to recognize the face under the Gomez Addam’s mustache and wig.

“John!” A smile as you move to hug him for a moment, pulling away with your hands resting on his forearms, “I thought you were overseas?”

“I was supposed to be, a nasty storm delayed us by a few days over in Spain so I’m not leaving until Wednesday.” He says, looking over your outfit. “Didn’t you wear this like two Halloweens ago?”

“What no one knows won’t hurt them,” a playful nudge on his shoulder, “And if I were to remember, this wig looks very Elvis of you.”

“You might be able to remember correctly,” The black strands of hair that were pulled back still reminiscent of the shape they once held. “Hey, I was wondering if I could talk to you alone?” John smiles, a nervous tinge to his voice as he continues, “It’s a little loud in here and I can’t really hear.”

“Oh, yeah,” brow furrowing at the attitude shift, “But first I should tell— Jungwoo!” The confused expression on John’s face somewhat laughable as you wave your boyfriend over, spotting him exiting the kitchen with two drinks in hand.

“There you are,” Jungwoo says as he walks over, placing a kiss on your cheek as he hands you a glass. You’re not too sure what the contents are, but it’s warm and smells spiced and oddly autumnal. “Hey John,” he greets with a small nod of his head as you take a small sip from your glass.

“Hey Jungwoo,” a return of the nod, “I should probably let the two of you go, I just remembered I have some calls I need to make.”

“What did you want to talk about?”  You ask as John begins to turn on his heels. It freezes him, he looks back to you before offering you a warm smile once again.

“It’s nothing important, I’ll catch up with you some other time, yeah?”

The party goes one without much note after, the most affable thing being that routine that Donghyuck had been preparing.  At one point you and Jungwoo had slipped out citing an acute tiredness as an excuse to just walk the city some more. By this time of night, the kids that had gone out in search for candy were slowly waning, now only the belligerently drunk wandered the streets in search of the home they probably lived in.

“You have to admit that the joke about Red Skelton was pretty funny though,” insisting that Donghyuck wasn’t the worst comedian you had ever seen. Sure, his act could be cleaned up a little but there was definitely potential.

“What was it— I know a guy who bought a $99 color TV set. Now every Tuesday night he watches Green Skelton?” Chuckling as he recalls the joke, Jungwoo shakes his head “That was pretty good.”

“That’s the one, he’s no Jerry Lewis but he’s trying his best,” you laugh as you arrive to the entrance of your apartment, “Did you want to come in?”

“I’d love to,” he says, and your heart skips several beats, “but I’ve got a client coming in early tomorrow.” And then your heart drops, “I’ll come by tomorrow after I’m done?”

“Alright,” you nod and you say your good nights, he places a kiss on your cheek before turning on his heels and walking into the darkness of night. 

You fumble with your hands, trying to unlatch the small picnic basket that had acted as your purse for the evening, in search of your keys. 

“Actually, do you have room for one more?” You’d been too distracted trying to get your keys that you hadn’t heard or seen Jungwoo come back to your stoop. 

“I thought you said you had work tomorrow,” a wayward glance to him.

“I do, but it’s dark and I’m kind of afraid to walk home alone, I mean what if a ghost or vampire gets me? I’m too pretty to die right now,” he states, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits for you to invite him in. 

“A big baby, more like it,” you scoff, once again turning to look at your door and stating, “If you are coming inside, can you lend me my own spare? I think I dropped my keys at Yuta’s.”

“Yeah I think I’ve got it on my ring,” he rummages around his pocks for a moment until you hear the familiar jingle of his keys. There are only four that adorn the metal hoop; his apartment’s, his mailbox’s, Taeil’s shop’s, and the most recent addition: yours. 

“Roommate not home?” He questions as the two of you make your way inside, kicking off your shoes as you beeline to your kitchen.

“At some B. Altman holiday extravaganza with her beau,” pulling two glasses from a cabinet and grabbing a nearby bottle from the small section of your kitchen dedicated to alcohol, “Nightcap?”

“A small one,” Jungwoo nods as you come into the room, he’s standing over your record player, turning it on and beginning to play whatever was on the platter. You set the glasses down onto the coffee table and pry the cork out of the bottle, pouring two small glasses as he falls into the sofa beside you.

“I hope Delamain’ll do?” You set down the bottle and pass a glass to Jungwoo, only settling down on the couch once your own glass is in hand.

“It’s perfectly fine,” he sips at his glass, setting it down on the settee as he muses some more, “What record is this?”

“Ella Fitzgerald, mom gave it to me for my birthday last year, it’s one of her favorites.” Sipping from your own glass steadily turns into you just downing the liquid in one go. The glass hits the end table with a clink when you set it down, Jungwoo’s free hand resting on your thigh as he listens to the music wafting through the air.

“It’s lovely,” he sighs out as you rest your head on his shoulder, the scent of his Pour Monsieur cologne invading your senses as you settle. The meticulous grazing of his fingers over your thigh cause for you to sigh, wanting to sink further into him.

“Can you kiss me?” The words fall breathlessly from your lips, as his fingers trace the hem of your dress. And he does, turning his head to crash against you with such voraciousness that your teeth click against each other before he steadies and falls into motion with you. The pair of you stay like that for a moment, before you felt his hand slip under your leg, urging you to sit atop him. 

You straddle his waist, feeling a hardness beginning to strain against his trousers as you grind down onto his lap. He lets out a moan, probably the sweetest thing you’d ever heard, his eyelids fluttering as you do it again. A smirk graces your lips, your hands trailing from his chest to the button on the front of his pants, the fabric coarse under your touch as you move to unfasten it. Before you could, you feel a pair of warm hands atop yours, you looked up to see a wide-eyed Jungwoo. 

“I didn’t think I’d be doing this today, so my underwear isn’t exactly mood appropriate—” He says all too quickly for you to comprehend fully, “Just don’t judge me too hard.”

“They can’t be— Is that Mickey Mouse?” You catch the name on the waistband of his underwear, hesitating on releasing any more of the animated character for your eyes to see. 

“And I think you’ve just killed the mood,” he groans, his head falling onto the back pillow as his hands fall atop the couch cushions. 

“No, I didn’t,” you lean down for a kiss, rolling your hips over him, feeling that he was almost fully erect. His hands fly back to your sides, guiding you along as he lifts his pelvis to meet yours. “I think they’re cute but maybe leave them home next time.”

“Next time?” He mused, looking up at you through clouded eyes, a joking tinge added to his voice “What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?”

“Call it foresight,” shoulders shrugging as you look down at him, your head tilted ever so slightly “and you don’t seem like the hit it and quit it type, baby.” He’d slept over at your apartment before, maybe you’d had a few drunken makeout sessions but nothing ever this sobering, this far. In hindsight maybe you should’ve been nervous, let the butterflies in your stomach take over and calm you down. You’re not sure why you’d taken such a confident route with him, it just seems like he needed it. 

“Baby,” the word fell out as a whisper as you saw the faint pinkness of his cheeks in the glow that emanates from the lamp to his right, “Can you spare me any further embarrassment and just take them off already?”

“It doesn’t feel like you’ve got anything to be embarrassed about,” your hand brushing his away from the front of his pants, you sit up on your knees, “Mind kicking them off for me?”

He readily complies as you tried to maneuver without inhibiting him, you noticed him watching you, a hunger in his gaze that sent shivers down your spine. 

“Fuck— is someone else here?” You listen to the familiar sound of your front door unlocking; it doesn’t open but you can hear loud footfalls and an even louder voice talking outside of the door. 

“Sooyoung?” You call out after you were sure the voices had stopped, walking to the kitchen when you hear roommate’s keys hitting the kitchen counter “I thought you were staying at your boyfriend’s?”

“The asshole broke up with me because he wanted to be Holly Golightly. Him! He might have the astoundingly good looks for it but I think I’m a little prettier, don’t you think?,” The door of the fridge slamming shut, a rustle around the utensil drawer as she looks for a spoon. She did look stunning as the Hepburn character; you have to admit. “They’re re-airing that episode of Perry Mason if you wanted to watch it.”

“Jungwoo’s actually over so I think I’m just going to call it a night,” You say, leaning against the doorframe, watching her begin to dig into a tub of ice cream. “I’ll be sure to rant about your ex with you tomorrow.”

“You’d really do that?” A sigh as she shoves the spook into her mouth, “I’ll try not to wake you guys up when I get up for work tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Sooyoung,” a smile before you slip away and head back into the living room. “Alright Woo, it’s time for bed.”

“Alright,” Jungwoo pushes himself off of the couch, shouting out a ‘Goodnight Sooyoung!’ before ducking into your room. With his long strides he walks to your bed and subsequently falls into it as you turn to close the door behind the two of you.

“Don’t you want to change, Dr. Holmes?” You note his still costumed self as you look at his sprawling figure on the bed, “I think I’ve got your bed clothes from the last time you were here… Not sure if I cleaned them though.”

He huffs, “Forget it, I’m going to sleep.” He crawls to his side, blanketing himself with your duvet as you go into your bathroom to remove your makeup and change. 

You can hear him softly snoring as you exit the restroom, your face still a little damp and the scent of your cleanser tingling your nose. Sooyoung’s turned off the music in the living room, the garbled sounds of the small black and white tv quietly floating in under your door. It takes a moment, but you climb into bed next to Jungwoo, pulling the duvet up to your chin before you shut your eyes and fall into a dreamless slumber.

It isn’t sunny out when you wake up, you don’t want to look at your clock for fear that your alarm was about to go off and you’d miss the opportunity to sleep in a few minutes more. An arm draped over you, even in sleep Jungwoo was a cuddler. Normally you weren’t opposed unless it was the summertime and it was unbearably hot outside. 

“You know,” you hear him mumble tiredly, as if he senses that you’ve woken up too, “I always thought your apartment would be much more… bookier.” With the way his voice rasps with fatigue you’re not sure if he’s fully awake or half asleep. 

“What were you expecting? Books wall to wall?” eyes still closed as you pull your duvet closer to you, feeling his arm tense around your waist. 

“Kind of, something akin to a fairytale library,” his breath hot on your back, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the sensation. “Like uhm— some Grimm story… Oh,” voice perking, “Can we go for that Halloween next year? You didn’t even tell me what you were going as until I saw you tonight.”

“You want to have a couple’s costume?”

“Yeah,” breathing slowing as if he’s falling back asleep agin,”Maybe Lucy and Ricardo, that’d be fun.”

The next time you wake up, the sun’s blaring into your eyes with an intensity you had never asked for.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” Jungwoo’s mumbling and shuffling around your room, sunlight was pouring in from your windows and he looked heavenly even in his manic state.

“What’s wrong?” Stifling a yawn behind your hand as you watch him frantically feel his pockets.

“It’s nine-thirty, We— I overslept,” another string of curses escaping him as he looks around your room, “Do you have a phone I can use?”

“It’s on the dresser.” You point lazily to the red rotary.

You hear the dial tone ring a few times before someone on the other end picks up, “Doyoung can you put my client on the line?” A pause, “Yes I know I’m late.” Another pause before Jungwoo speaks again, “Hello Mr. Smith? Yes, this is Jungwoo Kim I’m running a little late for our appointment, I’m stuck in traffic and if you could give me another— Huh? Oh, yes, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Only minorly,” he frowns, “You wouldn’t happen to have a suit perfectly tailored for me to wear, would you?”

“Can’t say that I do, why don’t you just go in what you’re wearing?”

“I am not going dressed up as Sherlock Holmes for this client, I have some pride you know.” 

“You’re literally wearing Mickey Mouse underwear,” you snort, “it doesn’t look that bad anyway, just don’t wear the hat and lose the pipe. Maybe the cloak too but it’s kind of sexy.” 

“Don’t try to tempt me,” he groans, buttoning and zipping his pants, “I’m late enough as is.” 

“I’d offer you an iron if Sooyoung hadn’t broken mine, that shirt looks super wrinkly now that I see it in the sunlight,” you note, he still looked nice though. He would probably look nice in anything he wore.

“Ugh, really?” Hands running over the wrinkled fabric he sighs to himself, “I’d say I’ve looked worse, but I normally have myself together.” 

“Good luck. I, for one, am going back to sleep.” You sigh and fall back into your blankets, not wanting to leave the sanctuary of warmth quite yet.

“Now who’s the baby?” He scoffs and you hear him tread to the side of the bed, a kiss planted on your forehead as you crinkle your nose up at him. “I’ll call you later today?”

“I’ll talk to you then.”

1964, Late Autumn. The rain began only a few minutes into your trek to the cafe, your umbrella weeping with the droplets as they roll off its surface as you trudge down the street. There’s a rumble in the distance but you’re not sure if it’s the local train station or thunder somewhere off beyond the city. Your other hand in your pocket, running your finger along the ridges of your shop’s key. While you know you’d locked it, you can’t help but have the underlying fear that you’d left the door wide open so that anyone could just walk in. Although you’re not quite sure what they’d take, a few blank notebooks don’t seem like it’d do too well in any sort of underground market. 

By the time you pull yourself from your thoughts you’re standing in front of a small cafe that felt more like a second home to you than your own apartment did at this point. The door swings open, you stand in the entranceway so that you can close your umbrella and leave it in the small stand upfront before you head fully inside. It smells like autumn, or at least the coffee’d variant of it. Pumpkin, nutmeg, and a few other scents you can’t quite pinpoint wafting through the air as you walk up to the counter to place your order. You pick out a few pastries as well and ask that they’re brought out when your coffee is ready. A hand to remove the paper-wrapped book under your arm so you can reach for your wallet, realizing then that the water had soaked into the leather. The wrapping paper now a little damp from where it’d brushed against your coat, you pick it back up as well as grab the receipt from the barista before scouring the cafe for what you’d come here to do in the first place.

Jungwoo’s dozing off when you find him in the back corner of the coffee shop. His jacket slung on the chair beside him, a scarf thrown haphazardly atop it as he leans with his head tilting backwards, pretty much dead to the world. Had the two of you not been frequent customers you’re sure that he would’ve been kicked out by now. But there he was, black turtleneck, tailored pants, and the cartoon bandages he loves so much wrapped tightly around his fingertips.

He doesn’t wake up when you accidentally scrape your chair on the ground when you pull it back to sit across from him nor does he wake when you drop the paper-bound book atop the table with a loud thud. Jungwoo does, however, wake when you brush your hand gently atop his, nearly falling out of his chair as his eyes open wider than you’d ever seen someone’s do. 

“That wasn’t funny,” he frowns as you snicker, glancing over to the counter trying to act as if he’s regained his composure, “did you already order?”

“For me? Yes,” you place your bag in the chair adjacent to you, shrug off your raincoat and hang it on the back of your chair. “For you, what is it that you get? Flat white, two sugars, low fat milk?”

“That’s it,” he hums, leaning his head back once more. It must’ve been another sleepless night for him.

“You should be thankful I’ve got an exceptional memory,” you frown as he can’t see you, he overworks himself too much and if you ever try to bring it up he brushes it off with a wave and an excuse of ‘I’m just doing what I love’. 

“You know,” he begins, leaning his head back up, opening his eyes to look at you. There was something shining behind them that you’d only seen on a handful of occasions; he has an idea and he’s not sure that you’ll like it, “I was wondering if you’d model a dress for me? Not for a fashion show or anything. I just think it’d look good on you.”

His gaze breaks from yours to look at the aisle behind you, you turn and see the barista coming with your drinks and assortment of baked goods. After a few repetitious ‘thank you’s she leaves and the pair of you are left alone once more. 

“Are you flirting with me?” An eyebrow piqued as you look at him. He’d asked you to do some of the strangest things before, going from the mundane ‘I think we need to get annual tickets to the opera just in case I forget your birthday and it’ll be a birthday present’ to ‘I swear to god if we don’t rescue this cat right now I’m never calling you again’. But it was two am and a shitfaced Jungwoo had thought that a raccoon was a cat as it rummaged through the garbage. That had also been the night where he’d serenaded you with his own rendition of Blossom Dearies ‘Dance Only With Me’ and Sinatra’s ‘I’m a Fool to Want You’; he’d broken down crying at the latter and you’d forced him to go to bed early. He only went on the condition that you’d hug him as he slept. It was certainly an interesting way to spend your first date together. 

“Do you want me to be? I’d say it’s fairly doable,” He winks as he drinks from his mug, blowing on its contents beforehand to cool the brew. 

A laugh, the brown paper under your fingertips wrinkling as you strain your fingers and push it towards him. It slides across the wood with relative ease, you finger partially tearing the paper where it had been dampened by the rain. 

“I brought you your book.”

“Unlined and all?” He asks as he sets down his cup, shifting himself forward to get a better look.

“Unlined, flexible binding, the works.” 

“You’re a lifesaver,” he sighs, taking the still wrapped book into his grasp. 

“I know,” you smile, watching as his fingers toy with the twine that kept it together. 

“Hello? Paging Ms. Bookbinder, you there?” Jungwoo’s hand waves in front of your face, suddenly you’re back in reality and trying to remember the conversation. You didn’t realize you’d zoned out that hard.

“Yes Mr. Reichelt?” You question, looking down as his finger’s unlace the twine you’d wrapped around the paper packaging. 

“Don’t call me that I am much cooler than Franz Reichelt, and less dead, for that matter.”

“Can you say that after you drink your coffee?” You poke jokingly while he eyes his mug with a wary glance.

“Anyway, were you even listening to me?” He leans towards you, elbows resting on the tabletop and a slight curvature to his smile that looked far too playful for the current moment. It stilled your heart for a second before you shake your head at him. 

“Not really, no.” You confess, sipping from your cup, “What is it?”

“I was asking if you would let me make a dress for you. I’ve had this idea in my mind for weeks and I finally got this mulberry silk imported from Lyon and it’s too good not to use immediately.”

“I don’t even need a dress like that, Jungwoo.” You frown, picking at one of the pastries in front of you, pinching off a piece before stuffing it into your mouth. “I’m not exactly the type that goes to parties where I’d need a silk dress.” You think that the last party you’d attended you’d worn a sweater and a dress from your roommate’s closet, nothing remotely close to what he was proposing. 

“You don’t even know what it looks like,” he pouts, “All I need are your measurements, you won’t even have to see the thing if you don’t want to.” 

A sigh, “Fine. When do you want me to drop by?”

“Does Tuesday around ten work for you?”

“I should be able to get Yuta to look over the shop while I’m gone.”

1964, Winter. The ringing of your shop’s bells draws you to the front room, your hands wrought with binding glue, you try to rub them on the apron you wear to rid yourself of the sensation. Before you can ask what the customer needs you stop in your tracks, head tilting to the side, “Isn’t it your day off?”

“It is,” Jungwoo’s voice is cheery as he walks in further, looking at the array of newly bound books sitting out on display.

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t want to see you?” You fluster at the words, hard to hide the small smile that forms on your lips.

“I mean, you can, it's just that I’m working.” You motion to the store, to the few customers browsing the items.

“You’ve spent however many nights watching me hem skirts and taper jackets; I think it’s time I return the favor.” A nod of his head as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “What can I do to help?”

“What the hell’s pincushion doing here?” Before you’re able to open your mouthm Yuta’s come out of the back room with a stack of books in his grasp, “I thought you’d be holed up in your shop by now.”

“It’s my day off.”

“And you’re spending it… here…” The thud of books landing on a nearby table as the skepticism in Yuta’s voice rises.

“Yep.”

“He must really like you,” Yuta scoffs, going to grab a different selection of books off of another shelf. He turns to you and asks, “Can you grab me the leather samples from the back? I think Maisel’s coming in today and you know how he gets.”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You shake your head and head to the back room to search for the swatches.

While he waits, Jungwoo notices a small web lingering in the intersection of two walls, the sunlight glinting off its strands having been what alerted him to his presence in the first place. At first, he thinks to sweep it away with a broom he knows is hidden away somewhere in your storeroom. You weren’t the biggest fan of bugs or arachnids; he was surprised you hadn’t rid your shop of it by now. But he can't find it within himself to brush the web asunder. It had worked hard to build and craft its home; he knew firsthand how difficult creating something from nothing was. 

“Her name is Jorōgumo.” Yuta had walked up behind Jungwoo with little announcement. The younger jumps, turning his head to look at the other. “I offered to kill her… him...? For her but she said it was eating the bugs and to let it be.”

Jungwoo eyes the fat-bodied spider, “Why is it named that?”

“It’s a fairytale from Japan, there’s a spider that looks like a woman. It entices men to follow her and then eats them while they’re distracted,” Yuta explains, the sound of the storeroom opening behind him.

“Are you bullying Arachne again?” You frown, handing the swatches to Yuta and looking up to the small web in the corner.

“I am not bullying Jorōgumo.”

“If I’m keeping a spider in my shop, I am not naming it after a monster.”

“And a heretic is better?” Yuta scoffs, tapping Jungwoo on the shoulder, “What do you think, Pincushion?”

“I’m just wondering why both the myths have to be women,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks to you, “Do you think you’d be free this evening so I can take your measurements? I finally have some free time to start working on that dress.”

“I think so,” a nod as you look to Yuta, “Mind looking after the shop for a bit?”

1965, Early Spring “Didn’t you already measure me?” Jungwoo’s hands hold a rolling measuring tape as he holds it up to your forearm as you ask.

“Yeah, but I want to make sure this is perfect.” Tape lowered; he writes down the number into one of the journals he’d brought with him to your apartment. Trailing away from that your eyes look to the bouquet he brought when he’d come over.

“What’s the deal?” Brow furrowing at the pink, red and white blooms, “You never give me flowers.”

“It’s a special occasion,” Beaming, he’s as bright as the sun. A jilted visage against the cool tones of your apartment’s interior. He looks up to you with a vividness in his eyes, “Your boyfriend’s going to Paris.”

“What do you mean Paris?” A hitch in your voice as you ask, a strange and warped confusion overcoming you.

“Taeil got me an apprenticeship with one of his friends, he’s going to be in town in a few weeks to talk about it with me and I want to show off the dress there.” He’s speaking at a mile a minute, a clear excitement as he beams.

“Don’t fall for some mysterious Parisian woman while you’re there,” You poke, still unsure about how you even feel about this.

“I doubt I’ll have time to even wander the city. With all of the workshops and sessions we’ll have. It’s going to be the opportunity of a life— ow—” he says as you gently hit his shoulder. “I won’t fall for some other girl, I promise,” He laughs and continues to take your measurements.

1965, Late Spring “Did you have a good time tonight?” The lock clicking into place as he asks, your footsteps falling on the floor as you make your way to his workbench in the center of what would’ve been his living room had he not made it into a makeshift workshop. 

You note the tools, the fabrics and array of swatches that litter his home, the pincushion he wears on his wrist as he works settled onto the tabletop. It’s as if the apartment is a representation of him, messy in ambition but persevering through the struggles as he tries to find the limelight of his own. A smile forming as he walks over to you.

“I had a wonderful time, thank you for inviting me.”

It had been a small gathering at the tailor shop, a small dinner with Taeil, Jungwoo, Taeil’s friend and Jungwoo’s future mentor Ten, and yourself. The entirety of the night you’d felt a knot forming in your stomach, the anxiety of Jungwoo’s future endeavors weighing heavily on your shoulders. You want to be happy for him but the closer it gets to Jungwoo’s departure for Paris leaves you feeling more and more despair at the event of it all.

“Thank you for coming,” Jungwoo’s hands find your sides as you lean your backside against the rough wooden edge of the table. “You made it all the more bearable,” smiling softly in the dim lighting of the apartment, he leans forward and places a soft kiss on your lips. The wine from earlier lingers on his breath, you're sure it does the same to yours, the darkness of the red already making you warm and your body feeling weightless, almost as if you were floating in a pool of water. 

You part, staring into each other’s eyes, a silent conversation before he’s leaning in again to find your lips. His kiss seems as if it seeks to steal the breath from your lungs. To devour you entirely until all you can think of is his closeness, the softness of his lips atop yours, of just him. The woolen fabric of his overcoat is rough under your fingertips as you move your hands from the workshop table to his shoulders, gently pulling at the cloth to urge him to discard the garment. His hands leave your sides momentarily as he shrugs the jacket off, the fabric falling and pooling on the floor at his feet. A metallic clang echoing around the space as he leans forward to lock his lips with yours.

“Jungwoo,” you breathe, soft pants escaping the both of you as you turn your head from him, your eyes trailing to the sewing scissors that had clattered onto the floor. Another rustling of fabric and you realize he’s discarded his suit jacket as well.

“Let it be,” a hand under your chin, guiding you back to the comfort of his lips. He presses himself into your touch, the way your fingers dance along the smooth cotton of his starched shirt, fiddle with the buttons and run your fingertips atop the small engravings adorning them. 

“Are we really going to do this in your workspace?” You look up to his darkened gaze, your voice caught in your throat as his own fingers move to toy with the neckline of your dress. Gentle, electric touches that have you reeling.

“Does that bother you?” His lips leave yours once more as he places soft, yearning kisses to your cheek, trailing down your jaw and then to your neck. He raises a hand to pull away the neckline of the dress to allow him better access to the apogee of nerves nestled at the point where your shoulder and neck meet. Teeth biting ever so gently that you would have mistaken it as a light graze had you not felt the sharp pinch. It pulls an almost whining sound from your vocal cords, causing your head to tilt to allow him more space to roam. 

Lips curling into a smile as he pulls away, his hand sliding from the table to your arm, then raising and gently pulling at your hair, “You didn’t answer me.” 

“God, fuck, no it doesn’t bother me,” you trap his lips in yours, tilting your head up so the orange glow of the street lamps outside shine into your eyes before you shut them, finding yourself lost in the entity of your lover. The slowest ministrations of your hips trying to roll against his, to seek out friction and closeness and the yearning of him to once again be a part of you, “Jungwoo.” Your tone is darker, needier, wanting as he presses his clothed self flush against you. 

A huff of air escaping you as he once again pulls his lips away from you, and then the gentle rolling of his hips against yours ceases as well. Eyes opening to find him looking over you, not scrutinizing, it seems as if he was rather admiring the picture that sat before him.

Head tilting, the presence of desire absent for a moment as he muses, “I think it looks amazing.” He hums as he lowers himself to his knees, somehow the softness of his voice makes you want to comply with every word uttered, “Can you sit on the table for me?”

Hands brushing against tulle and satin and a plethora of other fabrics you could care less about at this moment in time as you find your hold on the table as you move to sit atop its surface, your heeled shoes clattering to the floor as you do so. Jungwoo’s fingers caress your calves as he leans himself closer to your core, his warm breath making your mind conjure some of the most unspeakable thoughts. 

“I’ll have to let the designer know he did an amazing job,” you smile, involuntarily shivering as he slides his hands upwards, the hem of your dress inching towards your stomach the further he ascends. 

His face merely inches from your heat now, your hips squirming at the proximity. “I think he’d be appreciative of the feedback,” Jungwoo smiles, his face now obscured from vision due to the collection of fabric, you have half a mind to tear it off of you, not that you ever realistically would. It was far too precious. 

The rip of fabric, the coolness of the air hitting your now exposed sex, you whine in protest as he begins to slide the now torn fabric of your underwear away from you. 

“I’ll get you some more,” his right hand hovers over you, he uses his middle finger to swipe up the length of your slit, causing you to draw in a sharp breath. 

“Are you a lingerie atelier now— Fuck,” you begin to joke before he begins to tease your entrance with the tip of his finger. Your own hand moving to your breast, trying to fondle the mound through several layers of fabric. He slips the rest of his finger inside of you and with a moan you roll your hips to try and meet him halfway. 

It’s not until he eases in another finger and begins to languidly move them in and out of you as well as latch his lips to your clit that your vocalizations rise in volume. The digits curl inside of you, his tongue swirls around the sensitive bundle of nerves and your head finds itself lost in the euphoria of the moment, your hand falling away from your breast to find itself running through Jungwoo’s locks. He hums against you as your fingers tighten their hold, nearly sending you over the edge.

“Are you close?” You look to him, lips coated with the sheen of you, a tinge to his voice that straddles between curiosity and a carnal question. 

Hand moving from his hair to his cheek you can only nod, trying to roll your hips to the increasing speed of his fingers inside of you. His eyes watching you as you do finally reach your climax, chortled breaths escaping you as well as a slew of incoherent words and his name. Jungwoo can feel the way your walls spasm around his fingers and sighs to himself as he pulls them from you, wishing that it had been more than just his digits that had made you cum.

You sit up, a little dazed and a lot more aroused than you were when you’d first stepped into the apartment. Jungwoo rises to greet you, your lips clash together and you can taste yourself on his tongue as you vie for dominance. 

“Switch with me?” You ask, parting for air, voice whispering as your hands move to once again toy with the hem of his collared shirt.

And he does, backing away from you enough so you can land your feet on the floor and trade places with him. Your turn to take control for a moment, you feel the hardness of his cock through his pants as you tentatively palm it, trying to elicit some sort of sound from him. 

“Come on, Woo, I know you’ve got it in you,” you tease, running your hand up and down the etching of his member, slowly and meticulously trying to draw him out of his shell. 

“Have what—” he cuts himself off as you run your fingers over his cockhead, a low groan as if he hadn’t wanted you to hear it. 

“Have that,” you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The taste of salt greeting you, the sheen of sweat on his face glittering in the lights dimly illuminating his apartment. You fall to your knees, sending shivers down your spine as the cool air that balloons the skirt of your dress as your knees hit the floor with a dull thud. Hands sliding up his thighs, you move to his belt to hastily unfasten it.

It falls away, as do his pants and underwear, you were going to mention the lack of cartoon characters adorning it, but you were too preoccupied taking him into your mouth to comment. 

Tongue running over the slit on his head, it draws the sweetest sounds from him, saccharine-like honey that drips from his moans and rings around your ears. His hand running through his hair, his other gripping the table as he tries to stop himself from bucking into your mouth as you take him further. 

Your knees ache from the rough floor, the pain not deterrent enough for you to forget about the wetness between your legs. Fidgeting as your head bobs up and down on his length, you don’t think he takes notice. Yet Jungwoo was more perceptive than he let on at times, considering his hand now rests upon your hollowing cheek. 

“Get up,” Jungwoo urges, his voice hoarse as he tries to gently nudge you away from his cock. “I want to cum inside of you.” When you do let him leave your mouth, a thin line of spittle trailing from his head to your lips you hear him sigh out again. It was so easy to get a reaction out of him, he almost feels like putty in the palm of your hand. 

The indents from the wood settle into the flesh of your thighs as he helps you stand and lightly pushes you back onto the table. His belt clattering onto the floor as he fully kicks off his pants, his shoes, and briefs. 

You wonder at this point if you should take off the dress, but as your hand begins to reach for the zipper, he stops you, “No, keep it on.”

He kisses you again, taking his hands to gently pry your legs open so he can align himself with your core. Lips parting, you feel his cockhead brush up against your entrance before he pushes himself into you, his hands moving to trail up the sides of your legs. Slowly, feeling every inch enveloping him as his fingers tighten their hold on the skin of your hips. 

“Fuck,” he moans, fully sheathing himself inside of you. His brown eyes meeting yours, tongue darting out to wetten his lips, ��Do you need a minute?”

When you shake your head no you fully expect him to start fucking into you with reckless abandon as he did most nights you stayed together. But he doesn’t, instead he starts to roll his hips into you, not trying to fuck the life out of you, rather trying to gauge how and what made you feel good.

“Woo,” you mutter with half-lidded eyes, hands trailing up his arms and to his shoulders, your nails digging into the now exposed skin. It was sure to leave marks, but only small crescent moons that would fade away come morning. 

It’s whispered ‘I love you’s’ that fall from his lips as your forearms wrap around his neck to pull you up

 and draw him in closer, a thrumming in your chest each time he says it. And you repeat it back to the best of your ability, to find a constancy in him that hadn’t ever made itself presentable to you in a lover or significant other before. 

For a moment you’re able to lose yourself in him, to forget that he’d be leaving you soon and your heart along with it. You’re enveloped in the presence of him and you wouldn’t have it any other way, you wouldn't let it be any other way. 

Jungwoo’s thrusts become more sporadic as he reaches his end, one of his hands leaving your side and moving to your clit to try and bring you over with him one more time. You’re sensitive and strung out on him, legs tensing as they try to close, stopping around his waist as you press your forehead to his shoulder. 

He cums with little warning, other than his hand moving from your clit and back to your side as he stills himself within you. The sweat collected on both of your bows intermingling when he presses his forehead against yours. His breathing slows as he regains his composer, kissing you as he slides himself out of you. When he pulls away to slide on his briefs you land your feet on the ground with shaky legs, holding the edge to balance yourself.

Jungwoo turns back to you and almost has to stifle a short laugh, your face contorting to the feel of his essence leaving you, it was strange but not overtly bad. Just not something you were fully accustomed to.

“Let’s wash up, hm?” Hand taking yours, he leads you to his small bedroom, only stopping midway inso he can help you out of your clothes. He unzips the dress, the cool air of his apartment fully encasing you as he pulls the fabric off your shoulders. You feel his lips press a soft kiss onto the nape of your neck and he catches the scent of the perfume you’d applied earlier in the evening. The dress falls, pooling at your feet and you step from its depths and onto the hardwood floor. Before you’re able to reach for the dress, Jungwoo’s swept it up, already moving to hang it in his closet. 

The two of you shower together, reminiscing on a handful of occasions with him that you’d fully devoted to memory but also of the future as well. Jungwoo was excited to leave, every mention of it fractalizing your heart just a little bit more, not that you’d let him know, you just put on a smile and tell him how happy you are for him.

You borrow a shirt from him to wear to bed, exiting the bathroom while he brushes his teeth and combs his hair. While he does, you wander his room, looking at the shelves that adorn the space. Most books atop them are about tailoring or sewing, things that wouldn’t typically draw your attention. You then spot a few that are familiar, the bindings nostalgic under your fingertips as you trace them, no names or words that addressed their titles.

“I never realized I made you so many,” You muse, looking at Jungwoo who’s just exited the bathroom.

“I have been your loyal customer for a while now, you know.” He notes, falling into his bed and collecting the blankets, he pats the mattress beside him to beckon you closer. 

You fall back into the bed beside him after you saunter over, encased in the blankets for a moment by the duvet he tosses atop you before you look to him, “I don’t want you to go.” It’s a simple statement that carries all too much weight for those six words alone, they lie heavily in your chest, saying them aloud does nothing to stop that. 

“I know, I know,” There’s a hurt in his voice as he knows just how difficult it’ll be to part from you. “We’ve still got almost two months left before I go though, let’s try to make the most of it, okay?”

1965, Summer It had only been a month since Jungwoo landed in Paris. His French is awful, and he only knows how to call things pretty, cute or something lewder thanks to the teachings of his fellow apprentices. There are bags under his eyes from another sleepless night, a cigarette hanging from his lips (a terrible habit he’s picked up as of late), and the mute sounds of some song playing out of the bar he’d just crawled out of. It’s probably Bridget Bardot but he can’t tell from his position, not that he can understand anyway, he’s barely been able to comprehend his own thoughts.

His fingers ache, only nude bandages that are a little too pink wrapped around them because he can’t find the cartoon ones that you’d given him tucked away in his things. His eyes feel strained, tired, and pulsing from overanalyzing stitching and searching cloth for tears, pulls or other impurities. Montmartre was beautiful, not that he was able to see if often as he was constantly working. And if he wasn’t working, he was probably trying to catch up on lost rest.

This was his dream, a part of it though, the other half had you somewhere tucked away in the echelons of his fantasy life. Although he was doing what he wanted, what he loved, there was something about you being in absentia that had him feeling empty. He’d written countless letters but only signed and sent a handful, worried of saying too much and worried of saying too little. To you and his father, his father that had sent him on this path at a young age. ‘Make something of yourself,’ he’d said when Jungwoo was seven, ‘you’re too ambitious not to.’

If he could laugh at him now, he would. But his father was an ocean away, retreated somewhere in the depths of Jungwoo’s childhood that he’d rather leave behind. 

Yet you on the other hand, he’d written you what felt like every day and struggled with each composition. Jungwoo had never missed someone’s voice as much as yours, the gentle feel of your hand intertwined with his or even the sounds of your footsteps trailing through your shop. He’s supposed to be happy, why isn’t he happy?

The cigarette burns, the acrid smoke filtering into his lungs as he inhales, a plume of what’s left leaving him when he huffs out, the cigarette dropped onto the ground, smoldering away. Hand flitting through his knotted locks, the dampness of sweat clinging to the pads of his fingertips as he brushes over his brow. 

Most people had dropped everything to work under Ten, a certified maestro of their craft. And Jungwoo had dropped everything, not begrudgingly at first, but as the dog days of the beginning of summer and the end of spring drew near there was a rising anxiety within his chest. If you had asked him not to leave as he was standing at the terminal’s gates, he probably wouldn’t have gone at all. 

He’s been giving up more and more lately; sleep, adequate meals, a solitary living space. Jungwoo’s worried when this serpent of work will seek out to devour you away too. It’s not that he wants to let you go, but if he’s to make something of himself he might have to, as cruel and malicious it may seem. In that you waiting for him was burdensome, not to him but to yourself. While he’s off gallivanting in an ancient city you’re in your shop, was he just supposed to expect you to idly sit by and wait for him? He’s not sadistic enough to tether you down to the unknown.  

1965, Late Autumn. You’d come home that morning with a new record tucked under your arm, the words ‘Rubber Soul’ peeking overtop the paper sheath that the store had given you as you set it down on your countertop after discarding your shoes and jacket by the door. You hum to yourself, shedding your bag, reaching for the new record, and bringing it over to your player, Sooyoung’s worn copy of one of Billie Holiday’s albums resting on the platter. With gentle hands you remove it from the spindle, tucking it away in its cover before releasing Rubber Soul from its own and setting it onto the player. System turned on, you place the needle on the record and adjust the volume so the first few riffs of ‘Drive My Car’ begin playing through the speakers. 

Nodding your head to the rhythm, you set down the cover and make your way to the kitchen, noticing the small pile of postcards and letters you’d received from Jungwoo over the last few months. He’d been so busy he hadn’t really had the time to call or write a lot for that matter. But it wasn’t like calling was free, especially an international connection. With each new card that he sent to you, there seemed to be less that he wrote of and more empty space adorning it. 

“Hey,” You hear Sooyoung say as she exits her room, her purse in hand as she heads to the hall tree to grab a coat, “I’ve gotta head in, someone completely ruined the display for the winter collection.”

“I thought you were in charge of that?” A tilt of your head as she passes by. Sooyoung’s one of the floor managers of the flagship B. Altman some blocks away, and that left her unnecessarily stressed by the minute details of the store. 

“I am, but I let one of the new girls try and set it up,” a frown as she opens the door, “That’s what I get for trying to take on a protegee. I’ll be back around dinnertime, okay?” 

“I’ll see you then,” waving her off with a hand as the door slams shut, the sound of your friend’s key locking the door before the apartment falls into silence once more, the only sound coming from the next song on the vinyl. 

Stifling a yawn with your hand you head to the living room, plopping down onto the sofa as you reach for a magazine atop the table. It was one of your roommate’s detailing a plethora of fashion information, this seemed something like Jungwoo could take to more so than yourself. Before you’re able to get lost in the pit of missing him again the phone on the table next to the sofa begins to ring. 

“Hello?” Magazine tossed aside, you reach for the phone, pulling it to your ear as you lay reclined on the couch. Fully expecting a family member or one of Sooyoung’s friends over the line you sound a little more crass than normal.

“Whoa,” a familiar, achingly distant voice calls out, “Did I do something wrong?” 

“Jungwoo?” Eyes widening, your grip on the phone tightening before your brow furrows and you sit up, “Where are you?”

“I’m actually in a phone booth outside of Ten’s shop right now,” A short laugh, there’s something quiet about it, “I feel like I’m in some sort of film.”

“It sure sounds like you are,” distancing yourself from the line for a moment as the connection pops and crackles. Ear returning to the phone you feel your heart swell as you lean against your wall, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” He sounds apprehensive, as if there’s something ruminating behind his lips, but he was too afraid to say it. “I’m sorry for not calling sooner, it’s just been extremely busy here.”

Twirling the phone cord absentmindedly with your finger you shake your head, not that he could see you, “It’s alright.” The disquiet in his voice putting you on edge, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve been thinking,” He’s holding his breath, and you don’t realize that you are too.

“Of?”

“Ending this.” There’s a pause, a bated breath, and a clearing of his throat before he begins to speak again. It sounds robotic, rehearsed, even. “I don’t want to leave you waiting for me when I don’t even know when I’ll be back.”

“If you don’t think I’d wait for you you’re ridiculous,” A confused tone to your voice, you blink several times as if that were the cure-all to comprehend what he was suggesting. “Is there someone else?”

“God, no, of course not. It’s just—” A break in the facade for a moment before it turns static again, “You deserve constancy. I don’t want you waiting around for me when you could be happier somewhere else with someone else who’s actually there for you.” 

“Are you serious?” With the thought of him being an ocean away you could barely go as kicking and screaming as you wanted to, but you can’t. It’s hard to collect your thoughts with so many jumbling around your head. 

“I’ll get Taeil or someone to stop by and get my things,” voice muffled, there a small banging coming from the other end, as if someone’s hitting the outside of the phonebooth that Jungwoo was situated in. 

“No,” you frown, a heavy feeling settling into your stomach. “I’ll drop the dress and your things off at the shop.”

“Keep the dress, it was a gift,” his voice insists, sounding defeated and tired. 

“I don’t want it, I want you, Jungwoo.”

He would rather watch the stars flicker and die from their sepulchered facades in the expanse above, watch the oceans shrivel and continents shrink, than be the source of your privation. It’s as if he can hear your heart break over the line. It isn’t loud, it isn’t ear shattering— it’s a hairline fracture that webs out and settles into every fiber of your being. He knows it because it’s the same thing he’s afflicted upon himself. 

“I’m sorry, I love you but there’s no feasible way that I can—” he pauses, and you hear a voice tinned by the crackling line. It’s French, sounds angry and causes Jungwoo to speak into the phone once more, “I— I have to go. I’ll call you back later so we can talk about this, okay?”

“Okay,” the word is lifeless as it leaves your mouth, you hang up and pull the phone away from your ear as if you could still hear his voice after you’d killed the call. 

You are a bag of bones, skin, and whatever else deigned itself rotted enough to crawl its way inside of you and flourish. Amber leaves looking more titian as you leave your apartment, a muted tone as you walk the streets and to your shop. The lights inside aren’t as bright as they once were, sounds far too muffled by the blood rushing to your ears as Yuta asks you what’s wrong.  

1966, Winter “Try this one,” The bartender standing in front of you sets down another glass. He’d been talking to you on and off the whole night trying to get your opinions on different drinks he’d been concocting to try and get put on the menu.

“What is it?” Amber liquid swirled around what looked like a dried slice of orange. The whiff of something floral and reminiscent of anise hits your nose, causing your face to scrunch. “That’s not straight absinthe and cognac, is it?”

“Cognac Tesseron, Peychaud’s Bitters, simple syrup, and just the smallest taste of absinthe,” Carefully crafted and delicately handled you pick up the glass and observe it some more. “I’m thinking about calling it the Forget Me Not, but we’ll see what management thinks of that name.” Voice tinged with that oddly specific Brooklyn accent he turns to his other clientele, leaving you with the newest cocktail. Lips carefully pressed to the glass you drink, mulling over the flavors as you do so. After thinking about it you set the glass down, lips pursed together, it wasn’t a bad taste you just wished there were sweeter notes to it.

Alone. You sat alone in the dimly lit bar that denoted itself as La Fête. Why, you weren’t sure, but the cacophony of spirits mixed into the glass between your fingers was the only thing that had made you feel well the entire evening. Some comedian stands on the stage a few meters away, giving off a routine that wasn’t hitting as well as it should be. There’s muffled laughs and chortles from the audience in front of him, yet you’d barely heard a word he said.

“Mind if I join you?” A voice rings out to your right; you’re unable to see who it is until they take a seat next to you.

“Mr. Suh,” Eyebrows raised as Johnny turns to face you, “What brings you here?” You hadn’t seen him in a month or so, not after that had happened.

“Yuta told me I could probably find you here, and Sooyoung also told me about trying to cheer you up since the gifts she got you weren’t working,” A smirk playfully bouncing on his lips. “You look awful.” Hands folding atop each other as he adjusts himself in the seat.

“What makes you say that?” Scoffing as you bring your glass to your lips, taking a sip of your drink before setting it back down.

“Yuta did say you were going through something heavy.” His tone lowers, becoming more sympathetic and less lighthearted than it’d been a moment before.

The gentle ambiance of the bar around you, as well as the slew of alcohol in your drink, mellows your inhibitions and voice. It was the calmest you’d felt the entire night. “I just needed a break from all of this,” hand motioning towards your head. 

“I can understand that” Pausing for a moment he opens a nearby menu, perusing the selections. “I just came from a conference in D.C., aren’t you going to ask why?”

“Hmm, why?” You pose, head tilting as you turn to look at him.

“We’re acquiring some major stock in Marriott,” “Forcing a bunch of bigwigs to give up their assets is an adrenaline rush I won’t get anywhere else but there.”

“Sounds… fun?”

“In reality it’s just a bunch of stuffy old men with their own hands up their asses, “Although I guess I have to get used to it; I’ll be one of those men someday.”

“Johnathan Suh you will never be like any of those men,” sigh losing itself in your glass as you bring it back to your lips.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” as he closes his menu, he calls the bartender over, ordering some drink that sounded all too extravagant for your taste.

The pair of you sit in silence for a few moments, your glass now set atop the marble bar as your eyes wander around the warm, eclectic interior. “Are you merging them with that Canadian group? I can’t remember their name.” Snapping your fingers together as you try and recall. You look back to Johnny, who was beginning to take a drink of another one of the bartender’s creations.

The glass now moved away, and he frowns into the back of his hand; you wonder if it’s due to the alcohol. Head shaking in the negative he answers, “I actually left that partnership a year or so ago, decided I didn’t want any of ‘Daddy’s Help’ and tried my own hand at it.” Leaning back, he adjusts the lapels of his suit jacket, “And I’ve been doing a pretty good job if I do say so myself.” His confidence was a manic beast at times, but it never failed to make you roll your eyes. “What about you? Gonna commercialize your shop anytime soon?”

“As if,” You snort and look towards the darkened windows of the venue, “I’m perfectly fine in my shop,” Elbow resting on the counter, you lay your cheek atop your hand as your hair falls around your face, looking up at Johnny as your cheeks warm with embarrassment, “It’s all I can manage.”

Johnny laughs, it’s hearty and you feel your pulse rise along with the heat in your cheeks, “Don’t sell yourself short.” Shoulder shrugging, he returns to his drink, finishing it quickly while you sit up, rubbing your cheek.

“We’ll see when I get there,” smirk showing itself again as his fingers trace circles on the light marble of the bar. “Oh, weird, crazy question really,” His hand moves to his jacket, fumbling around one of the inside pockets for a moment as he searches for something. 

“Want to go to a wedding with me?” A piece of elegantly cut cardstock tossed down onto the bar, you don’t recognize the names scrawled onto the front of it in some pretentious calligraphy.

“Aren’t you dating that girl?” Fingers pulling the card closer, trying to recall the name, “Yoona or something? Why don’t you take her?”

Johnny almost chokes on his water as you speak, hitting his hand against his chest to get some air. “God no,” He coughed, setting his water glass down. “Yoona’s just a family friend, more like my big sister than anything else. If anything, my sister will get married before me.”

You nod your head in understanding, “Ah, is she still dating Taeil?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust them to tell me if it was raining outside or not,” he muses. Suddenly his demeanor turns mischievous, you’re not sure how to properly describe it as he leans in towards you, the smirk back with a vengeance. “But why were you interested in who I’m dating? Are you curious?”

It takes most of your willpower to lean back away from him and roll your eyes as you scoff out, “As if.” He only increasingly gets closer before you put a hand on his shoulder and playfully push him back.

“And what about you?” Does he seem nervous? You hear a genuine interest in his voice, but you aren’t sure if you’re exaggerating it due to the miasma of spirits clouding your senses. “Has any prince charming come up and swept you off your feet yet?”

“Does it look like it?” Eyebrow raised, you motion to yourself, “Yuta told you why I’m here, didn’t he?” Frown settling onto your lips you finish your drink, setting it down back onto the bar with an audible clink. 

“He may have mentioned it in passing,” John mutters, finger rubbing along the rim of his glass.

“I haven’t spoken to him in weeks, months even and he has the audacity to send in an order?” You try your best to sound indignant, but the truth was that it’d felt like a stab to your heart to see the hastily signed ‘Jungwoo Kim’ adorning the invoice. Your heart had almost stopped then, you’d thought that you and he were, at that point, separate entities once more. “He made it blatantly clear he wants nothing to do with me anymore, he can go woo as many Parisians as he’d like, I’m over it.” Not yet, you weren’t. But maybe repeating it enough would make it a reality.

“You know what I think?” John asks, finishing the rest of his drink as you look to your empty glass.

“I’m not drunk enough?”

“I think you’re plenty gone. But I don’t think you’ve ever let anything destroy you this much, or if you have, I'm a terrible friend for not realizing it. And with that being said, I will personally take up the reins to try and get you out of this slump,”

“Any other thoughts, O wise and wonderful mood maker?” 

“Yeah, this comedian’s garbage. I’ll take you to a Lenny Bruce set one day and you’ll laugh your ass off.”

“I appreciate it,” a snicker leaves you. “Anyway,” your eyes move to your watch, checking the time, “I should probably head back to my place, it’s getting late and I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” You rummage around your bag for a crumpled mess of bills that you toss onto the counter in front of you.

You stand and begin moving towards the exit when John speaks up, “Want me to walk with you?”

“If you want to,” pausing, you turn back to him and offer a smirk of your own, “it’s not too far away.” The two of you walk in silence through the winding interior of the bar as you make your way to the front entrance, you see through the large wooden doors that it is pitch black outside, thankfully the streetlights adorning the sidewalks keep things fairly visible. When the doors open and the two of you step outside you can’t help but let out a “Shit, it got cold.” 

“Here,” John shrugs off his already unbuttoned suit jacket and hands it to you, you can see the thin dress shirt he’s wearing, and you wonder how he’s not shivering himself. “Did you leave your jacket inside?” He asks as you drape the soft fabric over your shoulders.

“At the shop,” Standing outside, your toes on the edge of the sidewalk, your head cranes, trying to remember which way you’d walked here. “It’s…” you look to the signs at the end of the street, “that way,” hand motioning towards your abode once you recognize the names. “It’s about a fifteen-minute walk, I can always call a cab or something, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“It’s alright,” His shoulders shrug as the two of you begin walking, “It’ll help the alcohol get out of your system.” Had he seen you stumbling on your feet on your way out? If he did, he doesn’t say as the two of you walk the uneven streets, pushing through masses of tourists and civilians parading around the city. It’s not long until the crowds wear thin, leaving you, John, and the occasional pedestrian roaming the streets. “I’ve always loved this city,” John muses as the two of you stroll through one of the many parks dotting the town.

Nodding, “It’s lively for sure.” Your hands move to close his jacket tighter around your bare shoulders, “I don’t think I could imagine leaving it.”

“Maybe for a summer home though?” John laughs, moving his hands to his pockets. “I remember how you’d stay inside whenever it snowed or went below thirty when we were kids.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, “I wouldn’t say it’s that much of a problem anymore, I’m just a big fan of the sun in all its glory, not when it’s obscured behind a wall of cl—” Perhaps you would’ve finished that sentence had the heel of your, admittedly too high-heeled shoe not gotten caught between one of the junctures of the sidewalk, causing you to fall forward. You feel a pair of hands on you, one wrapped around your waist and one on your shoulder, as the ground rapidly rises to meet you.

Eyes closed you hear, “Are you alright?” as you’re hoisted back up onto your feet, never feeling the impact of the ground. 

“I’m fine.” Once his hands had left you, you raise your hands to your cheeks, feeling the rushing blood warm your palms, “I guess I’m a little tipsier than I thought.”

John looks at you for a moment, and then down to your feet, “I think you broke a heel.” Finger raised; you follow it downwards to look at the heel almost completely detached from the sole. “Here,” voice quickening as if to distract you from it, he takes your arm and puts it over his shoulder so you can lean some of your weight onto him, “wouldn’t want you to fall over again.” After offering him a quick smile and a small ‘thanks’ of gratitude you begin to walk again.

After a minute or so of walking, the pair of you take a turn onto one of the main drags of the city, the cool air soaking into you. “Do you mind if we stop for a second?” You ask, thinking you may have twisted your ankle when you tripped.

“Of course,” the two of you make your way to a bench along the sidewalk, you sit while John stands next to you. It’s a moment of quiet before he speaks up again, “Are you feeling alright?”

You can only shake your head in the negative, for fear that you may explode should you open your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” He questions, sitting down next to you, his hand falling atop yours in an act of subtle comfort.

Everything. Your throat becomes dry as you lean forward and embrace him, unable to vocalize the horrid deluge of hopelessness and heartbreak washing over you. 

You had seen the shop where Jungwoo was apprenticing when you’d gone into Taeil’s one morning, it had been featured in some editorial that he subscribed to. Seeing that it was a beautiful boutique and was quite revered among local and international audiences hadn’t dampened the blow at all. Jungwoo hadn’t been lying when he said it was the opportunity of a lifetime.

It still hurt. You’d been selfish in trying to make things work, too absorbed in it you hadn’t felt him slipping away until it was too late. Yuta had sat you down one day and told you to shape up. Jungwoo wasn’t coming back and the sooner you realized it the sooner you’d get over him. You don’t remember how long you cried into his shoulder for. For the eidolon of him was beginning to fade now, the lingering remnants of it still striking you to the core whenever you catch a glimpse of it.

“I just want to go home,” you try your best to sound strong, hating that the veneer you usually kept was able to slip so easily. Pulling away from the other you move to stand, kicking off your shoes and moving to hold them before you begin to walk.

“Aren’t your feet going to get cold? It’s nearly the middle of winter,” John calls out after you as he catches up, unsure of how to go about comforting you.

“I’ll be fine,” your toes cold on the concrete, “It’s only a few blocks away.”

It’s silence once more as the pair of you two amble to your apartment, the windows dark when you approach, Sooyoung must be out again. A sigh leaving you, alone again.

“Thanks for walking with me, Johnny.” You stop, turning to your accompaniment and smiling softly at him.

“Johnny?” His brow raises at that, “Are you sure you’re not still drunk? I don’t think you’ve called me that since we were twelve.”

“Yeah, I know. But I mean it, thank you.” Your other friends had tried to console you but Johnny’s attempt had been the most successful so far that had gotten you to even budge ever so slightly from the slump you’d found yourself in.

1967, Summer. The sparkler hisses as Johnny hands it to you, the bright end flickering with every centimeter the flame engulfs. A smile on your lips as you look to him, an equally bemused smile gracing his face as he steps away and begins handing out sparklers to a few other guests. After the host finishes handing out the sticks a large chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ begins to ring out, directed at Taeyong Lee. 

You didn’t really know the guy, but Johnny said he was hosting a birthday bash at a lake house up in the Catskills this weekend and it was a good excuse to get away from the city for a bit. It was a work friend of his, not sure from which endeavor but you aren’t complaining. Work at the shop had been far too busy to manage with just Yuta and you, you’d been looking at several applicants, but you had a difficult time sifting through the resumes. This was a much needed, and much deserved, break away from it all. 

Before the sparkler has a chance to burn down to your fingertips you blow it out and set it onto one of the porcelain plates atop the table in front of you. A small crowd had gathered to sing and with the rapidly setting sun it was difficult to see familiar faces among the crowd.

“Looking for someone?” A pair of hands placed on your hips as the question sounds out, the familiarity of it making you smile a little brighter.

“Just you,” You turn, looking at Johnny.

“Oh?” He questions, leaning in for a brief kiss before pulling away, “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that means you’re thinking of something,” A sparkle in his eye, the light from the nearby dock casting a green glow onto the lawn.

“Just work things,” you admit, “Even if I’m miles away from the shop it’s still on my mind.”

“Work’s a sickness, isn’t it?” He mutters, “Well, they’ve already started to start cut the cake, want to head in and grab a slice?”

“Sure,” you say his hands leave your sides, taking one of your hands in his and heading through the lawn and into the brightly lit interior of the home.

“Taeil said he’d be arriving a little later, my sister’s ready to blow a gasket but, when isn’t she?” Johnny laughs as you make your way to a nearby table, grabbing a plate with a precut slice of cake on it before turning back to him.

“Is this from the same bakery who did my cake last year?” You ask with nearly a mouthful of cake.

“I told you I made that cake,” he says jokingly, grabbing his own slice, “And if it were, would you say yea or nay for them making the wedding cake?”

“Yea. Definitely, this is by far the best buttercream I’ve ever had,” you nod, “Although I do need a drink.”

“Amaretto sour?” Questioning as he sets down his plate, ready to go off and mix your drink himself.

“You know I can’t,” a frown settling on your lips as you take another bite, “Just water.”

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Johnny says and heads to the bar in the next room over.

You move out of the way of the other partygoers looking for food and make your way to a window that looks out at the road in front of the house. As you watch, you see the bright headlights of a car pulling into the drive, trying to careen past the other vehicles lined up there. It must be Taeil.

It’d been a while since you’d last seen him, having to mail his orders to him now that you’d moved shop locations. So, you head to the front door, anxious to see an old friend. The door opens with a swing of grandeur, Taeil Moon stepping inside with a clear look of panic on his face.

Taeil spots you as he enters, rushing over to you, “She’s not angry, is she?”

“Your wife?” You question, putting a finger under your chin in thought, “She’s only told half of the people here how upset she is, so I think you still have time to save yourself.”

“I’d better get in there then,” he sighs, almost brushing past you before he stops, “I should also tell you that—”

You don’t hear what he says, though. Because you hadn’t realized that there was someone standing behind him until they step through the dark entranceway and into the bright lights of the foyer. For a moment it feels like time’s stopped, the plate in your hand straining from the pressure your fingers now exert on it as you lock eyes with someone you hadn’t ever expected to see again.

It’s you who breaks away first, mumbling about needing to find Johnny while it feels as if your heart seizes in upon itself in your chest. Before you’re able to rejoin the party, you feel a hand gently grasp your arm, “Can we talk?” The question is quiet, almost lost in the atmosphere of the celebration as Jungwoo asks.

A strangled gulp as you nod, setting the plate down on a small mail-table before you brush past him exit out of the front door. He follows you wordlessly, from the gravel path that wraps around the house and to the backyard that overlooks the lake. You keep walking, wading through grass that comes up to your knees until you’re standing on the wooden dock, the gentle sloshing of water hitting the posts giving you something else to focus on.

Face green in the light of the dock light overhead, it beams around the soft fog rising from the water as you hope it would swallow you up instead of you having this conversation with Jungwoo. 

“You never returned my calls,” he says, standing several feet away. His tone isn’t accusatory, it sounds hurt.

“I kept forgetting.” Liar. Nails digging into your palms as your hands clench with an anxiety that hadn’t riddled you for two years. “And you only called four times.”

“Five.”

“Four.” Resolution in your voice as you try and stand as firmly as you can. The shoes you were wearing were pinching your heels and you want nothing more than to kick them off into the water. You turn to look at him, trying to stay as calm. “Would you have picked up even if I did call back?” A tangling in your stomach as you recall having Sooyoung answer the phone for the next handful of weeks after the two of you had parted, each time he’d called Sooyoung would say you weren’t home.

He hesitates, at least his body does, the words, “Of course I would have,” escaping him before he could prep himself with a more eloquent response. 

“You seem to be doing well,” It’s silent until you break it, noting the suit he was wearing was from a higher end retailer.

“So, do you,” a break in his voice as he notices the crack in your demeanor, “I didn’t see you at Taeil’s wedding, I thought he would have invited you.”

“My mother got sick, so I missed it,” you recall having to forgo the event last year. Did that mean Jungwoo had been back that soon?

“You still have the dress.” There had been a melancholy deep set into your bones that had lasted for what seemed like lifetimes, now resurfacing more and more the longer you look at him. You’d forgotten about what you were wearing, the same dress that the tailor had labored unknown hours over and that had been the figurative wedge between you and him. Maybe this was some deity’s cruel sense of irony. “I still think it’s one of the best I’ve ever made,” 

“It’s a little tighter now but it’s still one of my favorites,” you can’t lie. Be it from the laborious love that was sewn into every stich or the bygone memories associated with it, it was and still is one of the best pieces you own.

“I really was an idiot for letting you go, wasn’t I?” Hands shoved into pockets, he’s not sure what to do with himself.

“You did what you had to.” Brow hardening, a remembrance of the last time you’d spoken.

“Don’t say it like that,” a soft plea, he’d never meant to hurt you.

“Then how should I say it?” A bitterness you thought forgotten riddled within every word you pose. 

“You know I tried to visit your shop when I first came back,” Deterrent of the conversation, he looks across the water to the distant shore. “But it was empty, some guy passing by had said you packed up months earlier and just left.”

“There was a water main break, ruined most of our inventory and we had to rebuild from scratch in a new place.” You still remember the dread you’d felt that morning, walking in to find everything in shambles.

“With John’s help?”

“Johnny helped.”

“Congratulations on your engagement, by the way,” eyes flickering to the ring on your finger, the light of the dock glinting of the main stone. “He’s a lucky man.”

Jungwoo sounds bitter, you can understand why but you can’t understand one thing. “Why did you come? I’m sure that Taeil said that I was going to be here.”

“I don’t know.” The answer is simple, but there’s a heaviness to it that you can feel. “I’m supposed to be flying out to Milan tomorrow. I guess I just wanted to see you again.”

“Did you expect me to fall into your arms, Jungwoo? To take you back?” Lip bitten, you’re sure you were going to draw blood if you kept at it any longer.

“Maybe I did when I came back last year, when I’d tried to see you.” He frowns, “I think now I want to make sure you’re happy.”

Happy. It feels as if that word dances off of the water behind you, across the sound and into the forest. Were you? The encroaching despair that had taken aim and marked you when Jungwoo had left was gone, a memory overwritten by the years that had followed, by the people who had followed. The shedding of yourself that came when he left took a while but without a doubt you can truly say this is the most complacent you’ve ever been.

The door to the lake house opens some ways behind Jungwoo, the lights from inside spreading across the lawn in an obscene spotlight on the two of you. A silhouette stands in the doorway, it’s easy to tell who the figure is as he leans against the door frame. You smile as you look at the outline of Johnny, heart swelling as it once had for the other man in front of you.

“Yeah, Jungwoo, I’m happy.”

[merakiaes]

Salvation - Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This is the third part of the little mini-series for Tommy. It isn’t proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes. I might come back and change some things later but until then, I hope you enjoy it xx

Wordcount: 3354

Summary: After meeting the entire Shelby clan and having a great time at the Garrison with them, Tommy shows up at your doorstep only a few hours after your return home, in desperate need of your care after a rough fight. 

Part One - Nice To Meet You

Part Two - First Impressions

After resolving the whole conflict at the Garrison, everything had gone really well for the rest of the evening.

Tommy had put Ada and yourself in a car home when the clock was around one, sending you home after a long night of good fun.

Ada, having had a lot more to drink than you had, had passed out pretty much the same second you arrived back home, dragging herself up the stairs without as much as a goodnight.

You, however, had taken the time to get out of your clothes and makeup, wash up and properly dress for sleep, and fallen asleep with a smile on your face around half past three, excited for the dinner Tommy had promised you the next day.

You slept soundly for a few hours, but unlike you had expected to, you didn’t get to sleep through the night.

Only a few hours after getting back home, you were awoken abruptly by knocking coming from downstairs, seemingly from the front door.

Being familiar with the danger that automatically came with knowing the Peaky Blinders and those related to them, you wasted no time in sitting up on the bed and reaching over to the bedside table, pulling the drawer out and grabbing the loaded gun Tommy had forced upon you for protection only one day after you had first met.

But as it was known, you weren’t very fond of violence, and doubted you would ever be brave enough to fire a gun at another human being if it ever came down to it, which was why your heart was beating so violently in your chest as it was now.

What if you were being robbed? Or attacked? What would happen if an enemy got inside and tried to take you and Ada? Would you be able to pull the trigger? You didn’t know, and you hoped to God you wouldn’t have to find out.

With shaky legs, you pulled yourself out of the bed and exited the safety of your locked bedroom, tiptoeing down the hallway.

You stopped yourself when you reached the top of the stairwell, listening closely for any sound that could indicate danger. You heard nothing, and for a moment, you wondered if someone perhaps just had the wrong house.

But then the knocking came again, just as you were about to turn around and go back to bed.

The sudden noise caused you to jump in fright, your eyes widening as you raised the gun in front of you.

You sucked in a deep breath, holding it as you began walking down the stairs.

You could make out the blurry shape of a person through the frosted window on the door, which only made you panic more.

The person knocked again, causing you to suck in another breath.

“Who’s there?” You yelled out, clicking the safety of the gun as you walked closer.

“It’s me.” The person answered almost immediately, and you instantly recognized the voice.

“Thomas?” You questioned, lowering the gun in your hand.

But you didn’t wait for a response, only rushing over to the table in the hall and putting down the gun, before rushing over to the front door and unlocking it to let him inside.

The worry was already evident in the pit of your stomach just from hearing his voice, knowing there was a very slim chance he had come all this way to delivered good news at six in the morning.

And the worry grew into absolute terror as his face became revealed to you.

Your eyes opened wide as you met his, your hand coming to cover your mouth.

“What in the world happened?!” You whisper-yelled as you opened the door wider and stepped to the side with hurried movements to let him inside.

Tommy limped over the threshold, closing the door behind him.

He pressed the bloody rag to his bleeding nose, and before you could stop yourself, you had raised your hand up to his face, letting your fingers touch at the swollen, purple skin around his eye.

“We ran into some trouble.” He answered, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You helped him lean against the wall, keeping him upright and checking over his face in the light coming from the kitchen.

“’Some’ trouble?” You questioned back, eyes wide. “This is what you call ‘some’ trouble?”

You shook your head, inspecting his face and injuries with featherlike touches, trying your hardest to not hurt him further.

“You’ve got a broken nose, broken blood vessels in your eye and your other eye is completely swollen shut.” You told him, biting the inside of your cheek lightly. “You could’ve died from the amount of blood you’ve lost.”

“I didn’t lose that much. I have thick blood.” He denied, but you only glared pointedly at him.

“You’re as pale as a snowman on Christmas day, your pulse is really weak, you’re trembling and can barely keep on your feet. Anyone can see that you’ve lost a large amount of blood so don’t try me, Thomas.” You told him sternly, finally letting go of his face. “Why the hell would you come all the way here and not seek medical attention at once?”

“I was already in the neighborhood.” He kept trying to lie, but you were having none of it.

The blood on his face was dried, indicating that he had, in fact, not been in the area at all, but rather come the entire way here like you had said.

You took a step closer, taking his face in your hands and caressing the back of his head comfortingly, looking up at him with concern. “The dried blood on your face says differently.” You whispered, shaking your head.

He closed his eyes at your touch, and leaned down to rest his forehead against yours. “I wanted to see you.”

His voice was equally as quiet as yours, and judging by the weight of his head against yours, he barely had the strength to keep it up.

“You saw me just a couple of hours ago.” You answered, but he wasn’t fazed at all by your observation, only whispering back:

“I know.” 

He sighed, and opened his eyes again, looking into yours. “Where’s Ada?”

“She’s sleeping. I would tell you that we have to be quiet but she’s knocked up like a light.” You answered, drawing a snicker through his pain.

“She’s not really known for being able to hold her alcohol.” He commented, and you raised your eyebrows at that, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Oh, believe me, I know.” You answered, finally letting go of the back of his neck and taking a step back. “Now, come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You offered him your arm and he wasted no time in taking it, pushing himself off the wall with a painful groan.

“Thank you.” He whispered, throwing his arm over your shoulder and allowing you to help him into the sitting room, where you had first sat down and enjoyed each other’s company.

You wordlessly helped him sit down at the sofa and left him there for a moment to go start a fire and light some of the lamps, getting some light into the room.

After doing that, you ventured into the kitchen and prepared a bowl of warm water, a few rags, thread and needle, bandages and some booze for sterilization, bringing it all back into the sitting room where the fire was now crackling away in the fireplace.

Tommy’s eyes were on you the second you appeared in the doorway, almost as if he had been watching it in wait for your return.

But you took no note of the way he was currently staring at you, too busy focusing on keeping the supplies in your arms and setting them down on the coffee table in front of him.

You wasted no time in getting to work, wetting the rag and wringing it out, bringing it up to his face to start cleaning away the dried blood and dirt.

“I thought you promised me not to get into any more fights.” You told him quietly as you worked away on him, your eyes flickering to meet his for a brief moment.

He didn’t even flinch when you pressed the fabric down into one of his cuts, answering calmly. “Believe it or not, I didn’t start it this time.”

Not once did he take his eyes off of you as you took care of him, his eyebrows slightly knotted together as he spectated the concentration on your face and the tenderness of your touches.

“You’re right. That is hard to believe.” You chuckled, shaking your head slightly. “But I’ll just have to take your word for it, won’t I?”

You flashed him a gentle smile, before putting your focus back on his face.

You didn’t say anything else the entire time of cleaning him up, and you finished getting rid of the excessive blood in a few minutes.

Once you were finished with the water, you dropped the bloody rag back into the bowl and grabbed another, soaking it with alcohol and staring to sterilize the cuts.

When reaching one in particular right above his left eye, he hissed, and you drew back your hand, immediately starting to inspect the wound.

Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a lot bigger and deeper than the others. Unlike the others that looked to be caused by hits, this one seemed to be caused by a blade, hence the depth.

“Have you ever gotten stitches?” You asked, putting the rag of alcohol back to the table.

The corner of his lips tugged upwards slightly, eyes flashing over with amusement for a brief moment. “I fought in the war.” He told you, humor evident in his voice. “I’ve gotten plenty.”

You flushed slightly at that, and a nervous laugh escaped your lips as you realized he was right. “Right, of course.” You chuckled. “Forgive me. I forget.”

You bent over to the table slowly from where you sat a the edge of the sofa, starting to prepare the things you would be needing for the next step.

“Your eyebrow is split and will need stitching.” You told him, and he nodded while you continued. “I’ll go get you something to bite down on.”

You began standing up, but before you could go anywhere, his hand shot out and caught your wrist, causing your head to move around to look at him.

“No, don’t go anywhere.” He shook his head, and you gave him a confused look.

“But I-“

“I don’t need it.” He interrupted. “I can take it.”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “Is this you trying to impress me?” You questioned, and he raised his eyebrows. Or well, as good as he could with one of them being split open.

“Is it working?” He asked, and you pondered on it for a moment, narrowing your eyes at him in thought before shaking your head.

“No.”

“I thought not.” He chuckled, looking down slightly.

You weren’t all too fond of giving him stitches without something protecting his teeth, but nonetheless, you sank back down onto the couch beside him.

“Are you sure you don’t need something to bite onto?” You questioned again as you slowly began preparing the threat and needle. “I have the skill to poke a needle into your skin, but I am in no way qualified to fix broken teeth.”

But despite your clear worries, he only gave you a soft look, nodding his head slowly.

“I’ll be fine.”

You looked at him for a moment, giving him a chance to change his mind. But when you realized he wouldn’t you nodded your head, and went to work.

It was clear to you that he was in pain as you sewed him up, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, his pulse quick and hard and a layer of sweat quickly collecting on his skin.

But not once did those tears fall, and you found yourself both amazed and sad that he was able to take the pain so well. 

Amazed because, well, it said itself. But it also made you feel bad for him, knowing that he would’ve had to go through great deals of pain in order to become this accustomed to it.

And no human should have to do that.

Once you had finished the stitches you put the needle back on the table. Turning back around to him, you put a small piece of paper on top of the cut to stop it from bleeding further and gave him a guilty look.

“I’m going to have to reset your nose, too.” You told him, and inwardly cringed when you noticed his jaw tense.

It was obvious he was trying to keep up this strong façade, but it was also obvious he wasn’t as strong and unbothered as he put on.

But still, he just nodded, and knowing that you both probably wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, you moved your hands up and snapped his nose back into place without a second thought.

The snap and crackle of his bones made you flinch, and he let out a sound of pain, squeezing his bruised and swollen eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, quickly bringing your hands away from his face. “There, you’re all done.”

He let his head fall back onto the back of the sofa, his eyes still closed and his breathing slightly uneven.

“I’m beginning to think you like seeing me in pain.” He spoke after a moment of silence, bringing his head back up and looking at you.

You knew he was just joking around, but still; you could only give him a sad look and shake your head. “I hate it.” You admitted quietly.

A thick silence fell over the two of you, your eyes locked together and neither of you blinking for a long moment.

The crackling of the fire at the other side of the room soon fell deaf to your ears and it was like everything around you disappeared. The only thing you could see was him, getting completely lost in his pools of blue.

But it wasn’t exactly strange, was it? They were like the ocean. Just as beautiful and with just as large a capability to drown the victims they lured in.

And you could shamelessly admit that you were struggling for your life to keep yourself breathing right now.

Your breath caught in your throat and your back straightened up significantly when you noticed Tommy leaning in closer, your racing heart picking up even more speed. It honestly felt like you were going to go into cardiac arrest.

“Thomas…” You whispered, but you didn’t get to say anything else, as his lips were pressed against yours the next second.

Now, you had kissed your fair share of men throughout your life, but you had never, never, found yourself feeling like you did at this moment.

It was like your insides were set on fire. Your entire body grew hot, and the familiar tingling sensation in your stomach and chest erupted quicker than it had ever done before.

And the feeling was mutual.

From the moment your lips touched, it was like your bodies moved on their own.

With heavy breaths and desperate hands grabbing at each other, you lifted your leg over his, straddling his lap all while keeping your lips locked together.

Your hands moved to the back of his neck, your nails gently scratching his scalp, and his hands moved up the insides of your bare thighs with patronizingly slow movements, along up your hips before they stopped at your waist.

There, he squeezed the flesh hidden under the thin layer of silk, and it was only then you came to the realization that you were wearing nothing but a short night gown.

Before then, you hadn’t even thought about it, and the realization would have surely had you blushing in embarrassment, hadn’t you already been flushed with excitement and desperation.

Your hands moved down from his neck and started unbuttoning the buttons of his shirt with hurried motions.

Tommy’s hands had now found their way underneath your night slip, his thumbs rubbing your skin and caressing their way back and forth.

The buttons came undone in no time, and you wasted no time in moving your hands underneath the fabric to his shoulders, beginning to brush the piece of clothing off of his body.

But before you could get too far, however, you accidentally brushed against one of the bigger bruises on his shoulder blade, causing him to jerk in pain underneath you. 

You instantly broke away from the kiss, your eyes wide and your hands disappearing from his shoulder.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, panting heavily and eyes wide. “Are you okay?”

You wasted no time in starting to check over him, making sure you didn’t fuck up any of his bandages in your distracted state.

He brought his hands up to catch your wrists, stopping you in your movements. “I’m alright, (Y/N).” He assured you, but the pained look on his face told you the exact opposite.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again, letting him intertwine your fingers and leaning your forehead against his.

You caught your breaths together, looking deeply into each other’s eyes once again. 

You hesitated, slightly afraid that he would regret the turn of events even though he had been the one to make the first move and despite the fact that you knew he did, in fact, harbor feelings for you.

But you quickly pushed any doubts to the back of your head, the fresh memories of the kiss you had shared only seconds before clouding your entire mind and causing your lips to move all on their own.

“Another time?” You breathed out, trying your hardest not to look too desperate as you stared down at him.

Tommy dropped your hands again and slowly moved them back to your waist, pulling you closer to his body and letting his eyes fall to your lips.

“Another time.” He agreed, and then softly pressed his lips back onto yours.

Six hours later, right around noon, Ada woke up from her drunken slumber and went to check up on you.

When she didn’t find you in your bed, she rushed downstairs in panic, only to find you sleeping on top of her brother’s chest in the sofa in the sitting room, his eyebrow stitched and the coffee table a mess of bloody rags.

You had fallen asleep shortly after the change of events earlier that morning, but unbeknownst to you, Tommy had laid awake the entire time, just staring down at you as you slept soundly.

Ada had breathed out a sigh of relief upon finding that you were safe and sound, but hadn’t wasted a single second to lecture her older brother.

He hadn’t even looked up when she stopped in the doorway and called out his name, his fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair.

“You better keep her safe, Tommy.” Ada told him, glaring at him from the doorway with the famous Shelby fire flaring behind her blues. “Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Even then, Tommy hadn’t been fazed in the slightest, his eyes not once moving away from your face as he answered. “I’d give my own life in a heartbeat if it meant she got to keep hers.”

Ada was in no way keen on the idea of her brother courting her best friend or getting you involved with her family at all, but even she couldn’t deny that there was nothing but sincere honesty behind his words.

As she watched the scene unfold in front of her, she realized without a doubt in her mind that the way Tommy looked at you was the exact same way she looked at Karl; as a second chance to a better life and a fresh start.

Just like Karl was hers, you were Tommy’s salvation.

[ms-rampage]

New Dawn: New Horizons Chapter 1 - Prelude 

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: It's been almost 20 years since the nuclear explosions that destroyed all of Hope County. A lot has changed, many new faces, old friends and new enemies are all head. 

Guest OCs: Cristina Winchester-Smith (FC: Brianna Hildebrand), Bianca Winchester-Smith (FC: Maisie Williams), Daenerys Winchester (FC: Xia Brookside)

Guest Characters: Nick Rye, Carmina Rye, Gabriel [Supernatural], Lucifer [Supernatural], Mickey and Lou [mentioned], God/Chuck [mentioned], Joseph Seed [mentioned], John Seed [mentioned].

Written by @athenalillystar and myself. Supernatural & Far Cry New Dawn crossover. Hope y'all enjoy! 💗💗

Taglist: @wargames94 @rabbitsoldier @mrsladydiana

________

"I was just an infant when all this happened. My name is Cristina Tatiana Winchester-Smith, and life has never been the same, to my parents at least. Half my life I spent living underground in a bunker. All this was just an experience for my siblings and I. My family had to rebuild everything they had established. Saving, helping out those in need, it's our family business. 

The next generation of the Winchester family has grown over the last 15+ years. Ever since the bombs dropped, Joseph Seed was right about everything. Everyone in Hope County emerged from their bunkers after 7 long years. The Collapse happened, sending the world into a nuclear holcaust by the Man upstairs, but that still doesn’t mean he, God, didn't play Joseph Seed and his family. 

Cristina Winchester-Smith, the eldest daughter to Paige Winchester and Kenneth Smith along with her younger sister Bianca, and their cousin Daenerys, the only daughter to Kate Winchester, and unfortunately the daughter to John Seed, whom she doesn't know anything about because she doesn't know of his existence. 

Walking through the ruins of what was once Holland Valley. Everything's destroyed, gone, obsolete. 

Paige used to tell them how everything was, how everything was beautiful, the small town of Falls End, the church, the bar, the agriculture. How life was beautiful and simple, before the bombs fell, and now everything is obsolete. Never, not once telling them about the Cult that terrorized the whole town and how the leaders tortured their whole family.

They walk through the tall grass, rummaging through the prepper stashes in the abandoned destroyed houses looking for supplies.

"Did you find anything!?" Bianca calls out, from a nearby house.

"No, nothing!" Daenerys yells back, not far from her.

In another house 20 feet away from them, Cristina is digging, and pushing debris of a collapsed house out of the way. As she's searching for supplies, a gust of wind blows through the house, and a flutter like noise. She doesn't think anything of it. She hears footsteps from behind her, thinking it's her sister or cousin.

"Hey, did you find anything?!?" she asks, not looking back. Digging through the rubble.

After a few moments of no response, she speaks up again, still not looking back.

"Hey, did you find anything?!?!" she asks again. The voice of a man makes her snap her head back. 

"Ooh how this world has changed" he whispers. She turns around, and sees a tall blonde man with his back to her, slowly standing up, her hand ready on her pistol. 

"Umm who are you?!?" she asks him. 100% suspicious. 

He turns to face her. He's very attractive, he looks like he could pass for her dad. He’s so much older than her, and has beautiful piercing blue eyes.

"I go by many names" he tells her, stepping closer to the eldest Winchester.

She narrows her eyes at him and says, "I don't understand. Is that a reference to something?!".

"I'm Lucifer" he says in a calm voice that sends shivers up her spine.

Her eyes widened for a second, taking a few steps back, and let out a soft chuckle. 

“Okay!!” she laughs. When he doesn’t respond, and stares at her with a serious, dead look. She internally panics.

"Wha-?!!? No?! You serious??" she whispers, trying to play it off but the fear in her voice betrays her.

"Yes" he responds softly, standing still in front of her, blocking the doorway, the only way out.

"You better be joking” she tells him, after a few moments of no response from him “Are you gonna kill me?!?!". 

He steps closer to her, examining her face. He tilts his head to the side while examining her face. She slowly backs up. 

"You look familiar" he says softly. 

Cristina is a splitting image of her mother Paige. Lucifer thinks that this person is Paige Winchester, but appearing much younger, and with blue streaks in her hair. 

He reaches his hand out to touch her face. She backs up against the wall. 

She’s able to duck underneath him, avoiding his touch, only for him to appear in front of her again.

She lets out a slight gasp, and drops to the floor. Crawling away from him.

“I’m not gonna kill you” he tells her, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. 

She crawls back to where she was before, her back against the wall. He kneels in front of her, his hand reaches out to touch her face. Freaking out, she’s never seen, nor met this man before. His huge hand touches her forehead, and he closes his eyes. After a few seconds his eyes open, and are now glowing red. 

She panics, and crawls away from him. Her scream getting caught in her throat, unable to call for the other two.  

“Winchester” he mutters,”You’re a Winchester”.

“Yeah” she responds, softly, her voice breaking. 

“I’m guessing the other 2 are Winchesters as well?!” he asks.

She nods her head, “Yeah” muttering softly.

“Paige Winchester is your mother I’m guessing” he asks, standing up, and taking a few steps away from her. 

“Yeah?. Why?” she asks, beyond confused. 

He sighs, and with a hint of annoyance in his voice, “I know your mother, and her sister Kate Winchester. Pretty much your whole damn family”. 

He turns back around to face her, and says “Sam and Dean Winchester are, or were Paige and Kate’s 1st cousins. So that makes them your 2nd cousins? I’m guessing?!”.

Dumbfounded, and wondering if this is all some dream or hallucination. He’s telling her about relatives that she has never met before, she’s heard her mother talk about them to Kate and her father Kenneth. 

“I still don’t understand” she tells him, shrugging. Confusion written all over her face.

“The famous Winchester clan. My dad, God, he was bored of the human race. That he did all of this” he explains to her enthusiastically, with his arms out. Referring to the collapse, and the world being destroyed. 

“My mom said that some man named Joseph Seed said that all this would happen” she tells the Archangel.

“Yes, because he was picked by God, but what he didn’t know was that, God, Chuck was playing him, and would lead to the destruction of humanity. Hence The Collapse" he tells her. 

Her eyes widened, everything made sense. Everything that her mom, and aunt have said over the years makes sense. 

After emerging from the bunker after 7 years, they were able to rebuild their home. Making sure everything would be protected from the Highwaymen. A group of assholes who force people out of their homes, taking whatever they want from whoever they want. 

“I didn’t catch your name” he says, breaking her from her thoughts. Crossing his arms. 

“C-Cristina” she hesitates. 

He claps his hands, “Well Cristina, you won’t see the last of me. I might pay your folks a visit. Most Angels, and a few Archangels were all cast out of Heaven when my daddy farted on humanity. So I’m gonna go find my bros” he says, “But before I leave. One more thing. You look too much like your mother. It’s weird”. He tells her with a smug, disgusted look on his face, as if she were responsible for how she looks. His last words to her before he disappears, or are they?!. 

She looks around looking for him. Cannot believe that she met Lucifer. The Fallen Angel. The Devil, Satan himself!!. Her thoughts are interrupted by her little sister and cousin calling out for her. 

“Cristina!!” Daenerys calls out. Startling, and disturbing her thoughts. 

She steps out of the house, “Yeah!?!”. 

“Did you find anything?!” Bianca asks.

She shakes her head, “No I didn’t find anything”. Trying not to show any fear in her voice or in her eyes. 

“Well, I found 5 rolls of duct tape, 3 metal springs and some titanium pipes” Daenerys tells her.

“I found titanium pipes as well, and 3 rolls of copper wire” Bianca tells them. 

She nods her head, “Okay, well let’s head back to Prosperity then” she tells them. 

They jump into their motorcycles and ride back to Prosperity, their safe haven. Cris riding by herself, Bianca in hers with Daenerys in the side cart. 

They didn't find much supplies, but enough to fix a car or part of a motorcycle.

The eldest child, Cristina who is still disturbed, and discombobulated after encountering "Lucifer". She didn't say anything to the other 2 because she didn't want to freak out, or have them worry about it.

She would tell her parents but they might not believe her, telling her that it was some Highwayman trying to scare her, but that didn’t explain him disappearing out of nowhere, and his eyes glowing red. Thinking about everything he said. Him saying that he knew her mother, and aunt.

They make it back to Prosperity, walking through the front gate with their supplies. They hand all their supplies they found to Nick Rye, and they go inside the house.

"Hey, are you guys hungry?" Paige, the mother to Cristina and Bianca asks.

"Yeah, sure" Cristina replies. Trying not to look bothered

She hands them plates with different types of sandwiches and chips. They all sit outside on the steps. Paige notices her eldest daughter looks bothered.

“Cri, you okay?” she asks. Putting on her best concerned mother look.

She lifts her head up, and looks at her mother, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired” she replies.

Paige nods, and goes back to making lunch for everyone in the safehouse.

As they’re sitting outside eating, Kate along with Selene walk down the stairs with boxes of medical supplies. Daenerys sees them, and immediately gets up from the steps. 

“Hye mom!” she calls out. Kate turns to face her only child.

“Yes Dany!?” she asks.

“Would it be okay if Cristina, Bianca, Jeff, Tom, Carmina and I go to Roughneck’s Crag tonight?” she asks, trying to use her puppy dog eyes that she inherited from her. Kate furrows her eyebrows at her, scrunching her nose. Trying to be a good parent, but also wanting to keep her daughter away from danger, but also wanting her to have fun and be a kid.  

“I’m okay with it, but you have to ask your father. He has the final word” she tells her, and walks towards the infirmary.

Daenerys’ adopted Archangel father Gabriel, whom she doesn't know is an Archangel, nor her biological father walks by, going towards the garage. He was one of the several Angels that were all cast out of Heaven when the bombs fell. 

“Hey dad!” she calls out.

He stops, faces her and says with a smirk. “Yes Dany boy?”. She rolls her eyes in embarrassment at the nickname he gave her. 

“Would it be okay if Bianca, Cristina, Jeff, Tom, Carmina and I go to the Roughneck’s Crag tonight?” she asks, with her blue puppy dog eyes.

He crosses his arms, staring at her, trying to put on his best strict father face. “Did you ask your mother?”.

“Yes” she replies.

“And what did she say?” he asks, looking down at the small pink haired human that is his daughter. 

“To ask you. But she said she was okay with it” she replies, using the puppy dog eyes on him “Sooo is it okay!?!”.

He stays silent for a moment, anticipating to answer her question. “It’s okay with me. Just be careful” he tells her.

“Thanks dad” she says, and goes back to her cousins at the steps. He goes to the garage where Nick Rye, and Kenneth Smith are. “What did he say?” Bianca asks her. 

“He said it was okay” she answers. 

****

Later that night, at the Winchester-Smith compound, Bianca, Cristina, Jeffrey, Thomas and Daenerys leave for the Roughneck’s. Which is a hang out spot for those who survived the Collapse, and need to take a breather.

“Be safe!!” Paige shouts as they drive off the property. 

Kenneth taught Cristina how to drive when she turned 15, since there are no cops. Well there are a few cops but they don’t care. No law enforcement officers that survived the bombs cares about their jobs. So she can drive without a license.

All of the adults stay behind. Paige, Kate, Kenny, Gabriel, as well as their old friends Mark, Nate, Martin, Cody, Adrian and their families. Paige and Kate’s mother Mandy, and their godmother Barbara. 

They had to rebuild, and expand their house, once they came out from the bunker after 7 long years. Splitting the house into 3 houses once again.

Putting up a 25 foot wall, solid concrete with a 25 foot iron gate. Security cameras pointed at all corners of the property. Always heavily armed.

“I’m not very comfortable about them going out this late” Kenny says to Paige. 

She sighs, “I’m not either, but I want them to have fun. They know what to do when they encounter the Highwaymen”. 

Kate and Gabriel approach them from behind. 

“Daenerys has an ear to detect trouble, they’ll be fine” Kate explains, reassuring them.

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t want them to run into the twins” Kenny tells her. 

Kate scoffs, shaking her head “The twins. Mickey and Lou, a couple of little fucks, who need an ass whooping”. Paige chuckles, “Yeah, no shit”. 

“They’ll be fine. I know it” Gabriel tells them, sitting on the kitchen counter. They turn to face him, “Are your Archangel senses kicking in?!” Paige jokes. 

He nods his head side to side, “Whatever I have left, which isn’t much” he tells them.

“So you’re a human?!” Kenneth asks.

“Partially human” he says, before joking “I hate it. I know I’m fond of humanity, but how do you all live like this?!?”. 

They laugh, despite what this celestial has gone through, from being cast out of Heaven, losing his grace but he got to marry his soulmate, even if she doesn’t know it. The soulmate part. 

“You know you love it!!” Kate teases, wrapping her arms around his neck. Placing his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“If I have to deal with you, I’ll take it” he responds, kissing her. He gets off from the counter, and heads outside. 

“Where you going?!” she asks him. He turns to her, “I’m gonna try, and contact my old man for the 5,678th time”.

“Is Heaven radio even working?!” Paige asks, “Is anyone up there taking the calls?” 

He shrugs “It does work, nothing but static. They still should get my calls. Even if the line is busy”. He goes outside, standing far away from the house, so he can get his message through the line. 

He looks up at the sky, and prays “Hey dad, it's me, Gabriel. Answer me, or you won’t get rid of me until you answer all of my questions. You’ve been holding off for 17 years and you will reply back”. 

A moment a silence, then a gust of cold wind blows past him. Looking up at the night Montana sky with green, pink Northern lights illuminate all day and night. 

“Well, well, well” a familiar male voice says. He turns around, and sees his older brother.

“Lucifer?!” he exclaims, surprised to see his fallen brother.

“Gabriel?!” he mocks him, “You’re one of the Archangels that fell?!”.

He shrugs, “Yep. The old man won’t respond to my calls”.He takes a few steps closer to his older brother, “He owns me, and every other angel an explanation”. 

Lucifer steps closer to his little brother, he sighs, then his eyes wander up, and sees Kate at a window inside the house. 

“Are-are you living with the Losechesters?!?” he asks. Look of disgust on his face. 

He looks back at the house, then back at Lucifer, “Yeah, after I fell and landed on Earth. With the very little powers I had, I teleported to them” pointing back towards the Winchesters who don’t see them.

“So they took you in?!?” Lucifer asks, confused.

Gabriel sighs, “Yeah, and I uhh. I eventually had a relationship with Kate”. 

Shaking his head in confusion, nothing knowing what to say, “You had a relationship with Kate Losechester?!” he asks.

“Well, I'm still in a relationship with her” he says. Still beyond confused that his brother is in a relationship with a weak inferior human, “I’m practically a step father” he adds.

His eyes widened, “You? A father?. How the Hell did that happen?!” he asks, holding back laughter.

He sighs once again, “Well around the time daddy dropped a deuce on humanity. Kate was pregnant, and when I teleported to their bunker, she was 7,8 maybe 9 weeks, Paige was also pregnant, she had triplets. Kate had a daughter, and that's how I became a step father. Being underground for 7 years because of radiation. I would’ve nailed Kate, and impregnated her myself but you know the whole Nephilim thing, and she’ll die giving birth to it”.

Lucifer trying to take in everything Gabriel said, and trying to process it all at once.

“So. So you’re human?!?” he asks. 

“Partially human. I still have my powers, they're just very limited. I have no access to Heaven, Hell, Purgatory. I can still teleport, but I’m not as strong as I was before I fell”. He sighs loudly, crossing his arms, looking up at the night sky. He looks back at his brother, and asks “So why are you here?!”.

Lucifer shrugs, and says “Looking for my brothers, and I found one so far”.

“Hey Gabe!” Kate calls him from inside the house.

“Come on Gabe, I can take you away from here. Away from them” he says, trying to convince his brother to go with him to looking for the other Angels. 

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry Lucifer. I live here now, I’m glad you want me to help, but I can’t leave them. I can’t do this to her”.

He rolls his eyes, sighing in annoyance. “Come on Gabe, this is the same Kate Winchester that killed Lilith, and freed me from my cage, which I am thankful for. The same Kate Winchester that watched her own sister get turned into a vampire, and didn’t do shit. The same Kate Winchester that lost her soul, and was a demon. The same Kate Winchester that-”.

“Stop!!. Just stop!” Gabriel cuts him off. “I’m not staying just because of Kate. Yeah I married her-”

Lucifer cuts him off by groaning in disgust, “You married a human?!?. Even worse you married a Winchester!!”. 

He ignores his interruption, and continues, “I married her, but I’m not staying just because of her, I’m staying because of Daenerys. Her daughter. My daughter!”. Lucifer crosses his arms, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“She is not your daughter!. She’s John Seed’s daughter. She’s not a damn Nephilim, nor does she have any angelic grace".

He glares at him, “John Seed is dead. I was there throughout Kate’s pregnancy. Since the beginning before Daenerys was even a damn embryo. It’s dad’s fault, he’s responsible, he kept me away from her because of his stupid little game”.

He raises his hands in defeat, “Okay. That's fine. If you wanna live amongst the humans, that's fine with me. But I’m not done with you little brother.” 

Gabriel rolls his eyes, turns around, and walks back towards the house.

“Maybe. I’ll pay little Dany a visit” Lucifer speaks out, making Gabriel stop in his tracks.

He turns to face his brother, “If you touch her, or go anywhere near her. I will kill you” he threatens him.

Lucifer smirks at him, “How?. You ain’t gotten any powers”. He goes to grab him but he disappears before he could get to him.

“Gabriel!!” Kate calls out for him again.

***

Bianca, Cristina, Daenerys, Thomas, Jeffrey and Carmina Rye are hanging out at what was once Steele Farm. Laughing, having a fun time, enjoying the Montana night. The radiation caused the sky to have their own Northern Lights. This was always a great hang out for them because you can see pretty everything from this view. 

Especially from the second floor of the hut. They spent 7 years living underground in their bunkers, and when it was time to come back out. 

Their families rebuilt everything, upgrading everything, their security, their weapons.

The Winchester kids come from a long line of hunters, their parents, their grandparents, their great grandparents, and so on were all hunters, but they don’t know this information because their parents didn’t want them to know of the evil that is out there in the world.

Cristina was always told that “God doesn’t care about anyone. That’s why everything was destroyed. He wanted all of us dead, to wipe us all out of existence because of one man. His name was Joseph Seed”.

She always thought that was a metaphor, or something like that. Yeah everything was destroyed by the bombs, and everything looks depressing. Mainly for their parents because everything was once beautiful, and normal. Life was enjoyed. They lived through it.

To them, to the kids, this was beautiful, and it was just the beginning for them.

Cristina keeps thinking about what “Lucifer” said to her. She feels like she should tell someone maybe not her siblings, or Daenerys or Carmina. Maybe she can tell her parents, her aunt, or her grandmother about that. Maybe this Joseph Seed man, maybe he’s still alive.

[mallowstep]

Questions about the bands/loner culture because I'm loving this AU already!

Is it normal for them to visit family that have, say, decided to become housekeepers or denizens in the city/elsewhere during the circuit? What is the interpersonal/social structure of an individual band like? What sort of names do bands call themselves, & is it a common/widespread knowledge, or more of a you-know-them-if-youve-met-them kind of thing? Also, when queens of different groups have kitted, is there ever any quarreling between them since toms tend to be threatening/violent toward kits that are not their own? Are there any bands who are sworn enemies or otherwise hostile toward each other, & how are these conflicts sorted out? Are new bands only started by mates, or could one be started by close friends, or littermates, for example? Do circuits ever change after they've been settled? Sorry if any of my wording is unclear, and for all the questions at once, I'm just so curious!

no no thank u so much for asking, do not apologize <3

is it normal to visit (non-wandering) kin?

as long as they live on the circuit! and most kin who leave a band are going to settle within visiting range of the circuit.

kin is really important to wanderers. let's say, hypothetically, lion stays in thunderclan, and holly and jay return to leaf and crow. (i'm not saying that's what's going to happen, to be clear.)

lion is going to bring his kits to meet with his kin every year when they're near clan territory, because they're going to want to meet them.

some cats are going to settle outside of visiting radius and not have any interest in making the yearly/biannual/what-have-you trip to meet with kin, and some leave the band because they don't want to be with their kin. sometimes circuits change, and the kin ties aren't strong enough, etc.

but in general, wanderers make a big effort to stay in touch.

what is the social structure of a band?

depends on the size of the band, the length of the circuit, and the band's history.

for small, kin-based bands (like leafcrow, rosemary&co), bands are, well, familial in structure. younger cats are expected to listen to older cats, but the general structure is very egalitarian.

(in general, bands are egalitarian, but i digress.)

the larger a band gets, the more formal things get, i suppose?

like, okay, if you have 5 cats, you don't really need to worry about distributing prey. if you have 20 cats, well, maybe you need to manage that.

one reason a cat might not get along with a band is because of the communal aspect of it. even though wanderers are generally accepting, that doesn't mean they're perfect. not everyone is cut out for that kind of mutual living structure, and sometimes it can be a toxic environment.

(for example, if one cat is bullying another, the band's response might lean towards "both sides reconciling," which isn't, like, a great response. and you're in a limited environment with very few cats. it happens, and unfortunately, the usual result is the harassed party leaving the band.)

what do bands call themselves and each other?

while some bands have names (like the sisters), most consider themselves a family. so if they absolutely need to identify themselves with some kind of title, it's going to be affiliated with the leader. leaf's family, rosemary's family, etc.

larger bands are more likely to have a title, naturally. these tend to be short, and associated with the founding. but i'd actually imagine there might be multiple groups that call themselves the sisters.

and this isn't common knowledge. you know who the bands you cross are, and you might hear about the bands they cross, but you don't know further than that.

so like. leaf and crow run into a band they cross on the way to the clan territory. let's say...heather.

heather might tell leaf, "oh, i heard sheep, you know, red's sheep, was staying in the old house by the river, the one with the dogs."

leaf can then pass that knowledge on to red when she sees her in the...summer? i'm not sure when they meet. but heather might not know red personally, just has met sheep, and sheep commented on red, and heather passes the news on so that leaf can pass it on.

did that make sense?

i hope that made sense.

(unrelated, but yes, you usually are going to introduce yourself as such. "leaf's holly, jay, and lion" etc.)

typically, though, bands refer to each other by where and when they cross. yes, that does make it very hard to know who they're talking about when you interact with different circuits. wanderers don't really care.

they don't see themselves as having overarching structure. there is no central meeting: yes, multiple bands do winter in the city, but plenty don't. there are like, multiple warm places.

what happens when multiple queens (in different bands) kit in the same place?

it depends. usually, they try to make their camp far away from each other. it doesn't even have to be far on human terms: a mile is plenty. maybe even less, depending on the type of territory.

and yes, this is one of the main causes of fighting between bands. they try to avoid the situation, but queens are very territorial. toms usually can't even get close enough to feel violent.

(leaf, being raised a clan cat, feels more comfortable around outside toms. but glass tries to stay out of the barn when the kits are young.)

the first step at resolution is for the leaders to negotiate. if a peaceful resolution can't be raised, then there will be a lot of posturing. cats are cowards, they don't want to actually fight.

an actual fight is the worst case scenario, and that leads into the next question.

are there feuds between bands, and how do those work?

there are feuds and grudges, but...they're usually pretty weak. see, if you cross with a band you don't get along with, it's fairly easy to avoid them.

more common is grudges built up over the winter, for bands who stay in the city, and feuds with colonies that take issue with the bands crossing their territory.

that said, if two bands come to a fight, they're going to have bad blood for a long time. wanderers tell stories, after all.

what's basically going to happen is that they're going to snap at each other about who should have to change their circuit every time they cross, and grumble about it before and after.

other bands are going to stay out of it. hard.

because they're a peaceful people. (cat?)

the feud is Bad, you see. and wanderers are not great at solving problems. they just want everyone to get along and smooth over the problem without actually resolving it. the problem is, when bands actually feud, they're not feuding for petty reasons.

now. now. the other thing that does happen is.

kits in the city/other gathering places. (i focus on the city + winter because that's where leaf and crow are, but there are other places.)

okay, so there's this passage in the beginning of the golden compass about the political structure of the kids and their colleges, and i cannot possibly express what an impact that has had on me.

but. kits feud like hell. they're in a relatively tight space for two or three moons, they have petty fights and wars and alliances and all sorts of drama.

these are usually related to their bands (e.g., rosemary and leaf are close bands), but not always. littermates stick together.

they even can get into "banding together in the face of a common enemy" if like, full-time city cat kits decide to cause trouble.

these don't usually last year to year, but they can.

fadslj winter in the city is the closest thing wanderers have to any kind of reunion moment, and it's like. it's quite territorial, honestly. bands tend to stick in their Area. by their nature, wanderers aren't interested in big groups and setting down roots. so they tend to keep to themselves more than usual.

after all, seeing family friends you see every year is different from going on a long vacation for two months or so with them.

how are new bands started?

while most new bands are started by mates, it's not the only way for them to get started.

i suppose, actually. bands aren't started by mates. a splinter group is usually pushed to break off by a pair of mates.

the "standard" formula is as such:

cat 1 from band A becomes mates with cat 2 from band B. cat 2 joins band A. cat 1 is expecting, and gets ready to nest, but tells the rest of the band to keep moving. other cats, typically close friends or littermates, stay.

the other standard formula is for littermates to form a band during their year voyage. i'd say it's maybe 60 way one, 30 way two, and 10 other.

(that said, it's usually during their year voyage that cats start to think about breaking off.)

there's no wrong reason to form a splinter band, it's just that, unless kits are involved, most splinter bands are going to function more as like. an auxiliary group that weaves in and out of the other circuit.

wanderers are creatures of habit.

do circuits ever change?

they change a lot in small ways. wanderers tend to make the same detours every trip, which is why older bands tend to have longer circuits. and older bands tend to be larger. hence larger = longer.

they can also change suddenly if something happens. like, say, a territory dispute during a nesting time (when a band settles down for a queen to kit), or a colony getting testy (like in tallstar's revenge, and squirrelflight's hope).

wanderers tend not to make major changes to their circuit (for no strong reason) after they're established, but it does happen.

the other thing is that a there-and-back circuit can flip into a loop circuit, or vice versa. basically, a there-and-back circuit starts to take a path on the "other side" of their territory, which widens over time, until they're in a loop.

in the other direction, the loop slowly narrows until it's a flat line.

all sorts of things can happen here, from forming cul-de-saqs to making detours to see kin. the one thing that doesn't happen often is "taking a shortcut." wanderers usually add to their circuit. they don't have anywhere to be, after all.

if i missed something, let me know! thank you for the questions, this was a lot of fun to answer.

[solacefruit]

Not an ask from the ask game - but do you mind explaining how you came up with some of your worldbuilding for MAMS?

- The Elders arranging pairings for genetic fitness

- the winds

- Housekeeper names

And which piece of worldbuilding has you feeling the most of that 'smug these things fit together in a logical and intriguing way I haven't seen much of elsewhere' feeling?

Hello there! I don’t mind explaining the thought process behind these, so sure, I’m happy to chat a bit about these world-building features. This will all go under a readmore as usual, so answers below!

The elders’ role.

It’s my opinion that elders would be highly valued in every clan, although their specific duties and cultural role might vary. Even before I started writing fanfiction for Warriors I always intended to give elders significant political and cultural weight, and I had a collection of little thoughts about how that might look like. For many years, one of the things I knew Windclan elders did was essentially host a micro-democratic system--i.e., they would vote on issues after a long debate, so as to give each cat an equal voice in the final decision. 

Some elements of Windclan life are decided exclusively by the elders in this way, and the arrangements are one of those elements. The arrangements came out of two thoughts for me: the first being that Wind (the founder) is a mother and a leader simultaneously, which I felt set a precedent for Windclan to allow mollies to have litters and hold power; and the second being the canon visitors to Windclan, whose purpose there was very unclear and honestly not really plasuible to me. In canon, they just come chill for a while and there’s not really any benefit to Windclan allowing them to do so. 

So from those two thoughts, I went: okay, what do the visitors offer the clan that would incentivise Windclan to invite them back every single year? And the answer is fresh bloodlines, particularly as the cats of the visiting group change so frequently as they are joined by newcomers. Likewise, I considered what impact it would have for Windclan to have a leader who also had experience raising kittens, and the answer was that she had the insight to know an insular, unmoving clan would not last. Hence why she also came to an accord with the barn cats of the nearby farmlands.

The combination to those two factors made it clear to me that Windclan’s tolerance--and even enthusiasm--for the visitors came from early in their history as a failsafe against inbreeding, and it seemed right to me that the elders--who long ago would probably have been Wind’s closest friends, the cats who helped take on some responsibility while she raised her litter--are the ideal thinktank for tracking bloodlines and deliberating on appropriate matches for warriors. It seemed like a neat and realistic solution for several problems. 

The nine winds. 

I knew I wanted to include a significant and unique element of Windclan culture in m.a.m.s. because it’s the ideal environment to do so, being a bigger story than my previous ones. The nine winds developed out of both Doylist and Watsonian interests for me. 

The Doylist (in-universe) reason is that canon suggests Windclan views themselves as intensely spiritual because of their position as closest to the stars and/or Moonstone (?)--but that didn’t really click with me, because all the clans feel they have a deeply personal, powerful relationship with Starclan. I felt there had to be more to their everyday relationship and “we sleep under the stars” doesn’t actually cut it for me as a notable cultural practice that justifies that feeling of connection. I wanted to be true to Windclan’s sense of being in conversation with Starclan, in a way that most suited their lifestyle and territory. Hence, the wind as divine messenger. 

The Watsonian (out-of-universe) reason is that I considered Windclan’s supposed connection to Starclan and stars, and then I thought of astrology, and then I thought of “what if astrology but actually interesting and potentially valuable?”, and then I devised the nine winds. Sorry to anyone who finds astrology fun or valuable, but for me, I don’t really find it compelling conceptually because (and obviously this is a super basic, watered down definition, forgive me) it is predominantly about explaining who you are based on when + where you were born and accounting for why you act or feel the way you do.  

That feels stagnant to me, so I wanted to take the concept of astrology and go, “what if it tells you who you can/should become?” and that felt very right and much more in line with stories I like to tell. I loved the idea of life as a work-in-progress, nebulously guided by ancestors, and I enjoy the difficulty in disproving the nine winds: either the wind is right because you could stand to be more x, or the wind is right because you became very x (as you should have). An emphasis on interpretation was important too, so that each cat has a personal relationship with 1. their own harbinger and 2. the day-to-day movements of the wind generally. 

As a side-note, I was also aware that systems of categorisation--Hogwarts houses or whatever else--are very appealing to readers, and I had a feeling people would go a little wild for the nine winds as a concept. I’ve so far been pretty good at predicting what it is that people really like in my work, especially as far as world-building goes, and it always makes me excited when I know I’ve about to share something new that I think everyone will go a bit mad for. 

Housekeeper names.

I wanted to achieve a few things with Cypress in m.a.m.s., and one of them was that I really wanted his relationship with Talltail to develop out of a cultural miscommunication that only becomes visible to both parties in hindsight. In the end, of course the relationship is very real, but from Cypress’ perspective, I needed something to push him to take the leap into the unknown, because I felt just curiosity and a desire for adventure weren’t quite enough to make him leave the comfort and safety of his home. But a noble, handsome traveller who turns up on his doorstep with interesting stories and a quest, who almost at once offers his name to Cypress in gratitude for his hospitality? The boy thought he’d fallen directly into a cat romance novel. 

I also felt that the sacred secret of one’s name is a super interesting cultural counterpoint to the clans, whose names and naming system exist to be known and as a way to identify each other. I got the idea initially from Old Possum’s Book of Cats, actually, a long long time ago, and have always found the thought of every cat (and particularly pet cats) having a private name pretty delightful--especially as kind of this last fierce independence, the one thing that is theirs and theirs alone. 

Personally, I also just love any kind of ritualised social conduct--another reason I love court intrigue. The sharing--or not sharing--of names has so many subtle little ramifications, and while I didn’t explore those in m.a.m.s. I love to think about it. 

And which piece of worldbuilding has you feeling the most of that 'smug these things fit together in a logical and intriguing way I haven't seen much of elsewhere' feeling?

I think they all go together really well and a lot of what makes this story feel unique is the combination of all these little things happening concurrently--or at least that’s my theory! I think of all the things I’ve written in m.a.m.s. the nine winds are probably the most intriguing, though, by virtue of implying much but sharing only a fragment of the whole? But that’s just a guess. 

I think the nine winds as a concept is the thing that is most specifically a me creation and probably the most unlikely to have been developed independently by someone else, so I’ll go with that! Admittedly I very rarely read Warriors fanfiction, so I can’t be sure, but I don’t think there’s anything quite like what I’m doing out there at the moment. 

Frankly if there was, I like to think I’d already know about it, because I’d be their biggest fan. Thank you for asking, and I hope these answers are interesting!

[nyodrite]

@a-world-in-grey @illusorygardens @sparklecryptid @hamelin-born @secret-engima because each of you seemed interested in this idea

so.

the entire thing is 30% Nyx's fault and 70% Ramuh's fault. because a non-Lucis Caelum wielding the Ring of Lucii left it's mark and made things.... incorrect in terms of Nyx's death

the Ring kind of laid claim to Nyx's soul and, instead of going to the afterlife he was supposed to be at, was trying to drag him into the Crystal

which Ramuh decided nope, not going to happen and just pushes Nyx's soul into the reincarnation cycle somewhere outside of the Crystal's influence

so eventually Nyx Ulric is reborn in a galaxy far, far away as Jango Fett which, with Ramuh kind of... intertwining with the Manda/Force/whatever, means he'll be able to go where he's supposed when he dies this time

of course when people find out about Nyx being reborn elsewhere many decide that they have to follow him

and more were tossed into things as a kind of... rehabilitation program?

the Fetts

only Arla and Jango are reincarnations

Selene winds up reborn first because detangling Nyx from the Ring took a bit longer

she isn't born Knowing, none of them are, but when Jango is born and Arla holds her brother for the first time she Knows

Jango spends most of his childhood unaware. He finds it a bit odd why Arla seems to be both amused and oddly delighted each time he calls her ori'vod but his sister is weird so he just goes with it

then their parents are killed and, amidst blood and fire and death, he remembers

then Jaster is dragging him away and he fights because he just got his sister back, just remembered what it was like to lose her and have to live without her, he's not letting it happen again

and he warps

(Nyx doesn't have magic, not like a true Lucis Caelum, but the Ring - for all that Ramuh severed it's connection to him - left... echoes.

He can still warp, it's familiar and easy as breathing to him, and he can reach out and share magic with someone but he has no armiger, he can't make potions or elixirs, what shields and elemental magic he can do is limited

but it's enough)

Nyx tosses the blade - a kukri, like he used to have, like their mother owned and taught them to uses as children in Galahd - his sister got him and warps back into the burning house

Arla - Selene, he knows it in his bones, can see it in how she switches from shooting a blaster to using a kukri to dig into the gaps of the armor as easily as she breaths - is fighting two Death Watch, she's holding them off but more are coming they just have to wait

so Nyx doesn't

He darts in, wraps an arm around his sister - has a moment to see horror cross her face - before he is warping them both out the house

the - king - Mand'alor definitely has questions when they appear so suddenly but there are more pressing matters and Nyx has time to figure out an answer

(Nyx never has to answer those questions, the Mand'alor always has a special connect to the Manda and Ramuh makes use of this to explain enough to satisfy Jaster

and if Ramuh hints at Jaster adopting both Fetts, despite Arla being technically old enough to be considered an adult, well that not favoritism that's just logic)

Jango and Arla become bounty hunters, though it's less of a full time thing and more of a I'm done dealing with politics I'm gonna go hunt something thing, and because they've no need for subtly decide to "hide" who they are by going by Nyx and Selene Ulric when on a job

technically both of them are in line to be the next Mand'alor and there pretty much even in terms of who the people want to be the next one

however, neither of them want the responsibility - or the politics, or the paperwork - and so basically try to... talk up the other as the better candidate

Nyx neatly solves this by taking on a bounty that leads to him getting a job on Kamino. and sure, it sounds super shady but there's no way his sister will be able to find him in time to keep herself from being declared Mand'alor

this holds out until the Alphas are made and then Nyx has a moment of oh shit i am a dad of a hundred and counting now

there is much panic and flailing, the comm message is basically incoherent

Selene starts praying for Libertus to show up because she left her brother unsupervised for one job. ONE. and this happens? clearly he needs his proper braincell back

and on that topic, let's head to the other, non-Ulric reincarnations real quick

Libertus is either Obi-Wan or Feemor, it depends entirely on how much I want Obi-Wan to have a proper big brother and Libertus to fuss over Obi-Wan's self-care, self-esteem and just everything really

if Libertus is Obi-Wan then Titus is gonna be Feemor, if Libertus is Feemor then Titus is going to be Dooku

which, you know what. I like that. Libertus is now Feemor, Obi-Wan gets his big brother and Titus is Dooku

so when that mission to Galidraan comes up, Dooku goes and sees Jango for the first time and suddenly Titus comes rushing in. and he's confronted with what is clearly TWO Ulrics before him

he is a Sigh

on the upside the mission ends mostly peaceful, none of the True Mandalorians are killed by Jedi and Death Watch gets dealt with

and there is now a, kind of nebulous, alliance between the Jedi and Mando

Titus!Dooku returns to the Jedi Temple and decides to reconnect with his lineage instead of isolating himself because clearly that kind of stuff didn't work the first time

and then he meets, after much scolding of Qui-Gon, Feemor who he can already tell is Libertus just waiting to wake up

he promptly tells Feemor that he should pay a visit to Mandalore as soon as possible and meet the future - because Nyx definitely saved Jaster on Korda 6 - Mand'alor

and Feemor may have intended to do so, however begrudgingly, but then he found a padawan and didn't really have time for a side trip to Mandalore

(which is good because he definitely would have stopped the clones from happening)

as for the rest.... well Crowe is Asohka, of course. For some reason I really like the idea of Luche as Xanatos du Crion?

Sonitus is Mando, not sure if he's reincarnated as someone already, but he's the kid of an armorer. Tredd I'm thinking Pre Vizsla maybe?

Pelna I'm thinking him being over in Corellia, not sure if he's a Corellian Jedi or if he winds up as a senator. Axis... I have half a mind for him to be Maul — or maybe Feral?

anyway, everyone only remembers when they see Nyx, hence why Titus!Dooku is trying to get Feemor to meet Jango

Sonitus actually remembers before Titus does, he's the son of one of Jaster's armorers and runs into Jango when he's old enough to start helping his buir

after that, Luche is actually the next to remember — because if I recall, Jango is only three years younger then Xanatos and the year Xanatos became a padawan was the same year that a some kind of pandemic spread through the galaxy, starting with Mandalore. so that sounds like a good set up to a potential mission for Jango and Xanatos to meet

next would be Tredd, which happens because Tor Vizsla dies via two protective Ulrics and so the Maat Mando'ade take in most of Death Watch after killing a bunch of the higher ranked ones

and then the few of Death Watch who got away set up Galidraan to try and wipe out the Haat Mando'ade and Titus remembers

Pelna and Libertus actually run into each other and make friends before remembering then, shortly after Feemor leaves Corellia, Nyx arrives and then Pelna remembers

honestly, Libertus is one of the last to remember but with multiple instances of where he just almost runs into Nyx

Luche!Xanatos finds Axis!Maul, drags him to meet Nyx and remember, then promptly returns to the Jedi Temple declaring he has a new padawan

then the clones happen and Ramuh gives Selene a break and reveals that Feemor is Libertus so she goes marching up to the Jedi Order and lowkey kidnaps Feemor - and his padawan who is having the time of their life right now - to drag him to Kamino

and then Feemor meets Jango and seconds later Libertus is yelling at Nyx over dying - then he finds out about the clones and yells some more over that

Crowe is the last one to remember timeline-wise but that's just because she's born later, she basically remembers as soon as she's taken to the Temple because Libertus is on creché duty with Nyx and she sees them

thats all I remember so BACK TO THE CLONES

the clones are raised as both Mando and Galahadian, and they get to choose—

choose if they feel more Galahadian, or if the want to swear to Resol'nare and be a proper Mando'ade instead of a Mando-raised Galahadian

of course there are those who are both, who have their armor painted in clan colors and clan braids not only in their hair but on display - in braided leather strips hanging from their armor

the clones also get to choose on if their names - not just if they want to name themselves or if they want Nyx to do it (and if they'd want a Mando or Galahadian name) but also if they want to be a Fett, Ulric or any combination of the two, or even something else entirely

after Selene finds out, and drags Libertus into things, a plot is hatched to kidnap the clones

Titus gets dragged into things because he's an older and respected jedi, and might be on the council, and basically changes the "order"

so the four of them wind up taking all the clones, now into the thousands with the oldest - Alphas - being preteen age?, and just flying first to Mandalore then straight to the Jedi Temple

they head to Mandalore first so that Selene can officially declare them citizens, Jaster gets to learn he's a grandfather thousands of times over and Nyx gets yelled at again

then they take any clones that didn't decide to stay on Mandalore over to the jedi temple where they waltz up to the jedi council and inform them about the army ordered for them

eventually it winds up with the rest of the clones getting added to the creché, in their own clans though raised along the jedi younglings

things get restructured a bit since most of the clones are not Force-sensitive, though some ARE because that's cool, and there's no way Nyx is going to be kept from visiting his kids

so you got some retired Mandos now in the creche with entire clans of clones that they've adopted, doesn't matter if they're a Fett or Ulric

you also got clones that straight up adopt various jedi so there's that too

anyways, Luche!Xanatos is the one who figures out about the chips which ignites all the protective rage and an investigation over just who ordered the clones though that winds up a bit of a dead end for a while

misc.

I'm not entirely sure if the Clone Wars happen here? if it does occur then it's not gonna be Republic vs Separatists because there's no Dooku to be a puppet leader — instead I think that winds up with the Sith Empire actually being reformed?

(which, has many a reincarnations seething because they already dealt with an evil empire and now there's another)

if that happens then Dathomir gets raided at some point for Sidious and Plageuis to steal Nightbrothers to raise as acolytes to help with their war

which in turn leads to some Nightsisters to side with the Jedi/Mando side because that's their future being stolen — also so Crowe!Asohka can learn about their magic and stuff because that'd be amazing

ANYWAYS

the ffxv world, i think the planet is still called Eos in it?, does in fact exist. it's just a planet floating in wild space

it is also a very, very long time since the happenings of ffxv

not sure if there's still people on planet or not, but it's definitely wilder and less tamed, all overgrown and filled with creatures

not sure which reincarnation finds this... let's say Pelna because I barely even mentioned him

hhhhhhh

Anakin Skywalker... I am not sure — he's brought to the temple young because there's no way anyone is gonna let slavery slide and Ramuh might have noticed his birth and started poking at someone to go investigate

Shmi winds up free and adopted, Shmi Skywalker-Ulric maybe? she works with Selene and both take the Senate by storm whenever they have to visit

Anakin winds up and Ulric by virtue of being Shmi's son

Libertus, purely out of self-defense, promptly adopts Obi-Wan to braincell for the newest Ulric - or, well, Obi-Wan may already be adopted by then and Lib just yeets his baby brother at the little Ulric to braincell

.....i think that's all the thoughts i have right now

[lightshadowverisimilitude]

Marry Me to the Sky 1/?

Yay! Betrothal fic for @mdzsnet One Year with The Untamed, day one: favorite character (Lan Wangji)

Wangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage from childhood, lots of people live.

Mind the cut!

~~ 

The evening that Lan Zhan turned eight, Lan Huan took him out of the disciple’s barracks and brought him to Uncle’s house. Lan Zhan held his brother’s hand obediently. He nodded when Lan Huan commented on his growth over the previous year; he had been given new robes twice when the old grew too short. It was an unnecessary observation when Lan Huan himself had presented the robes on both occasions. 

“How do you like your classmates?” Lan Huan asked him after a stretch of silence. He asked periodically about Lan Zhan’s classmates, and Lan Zhan was never sure how he should answer. Complaining about others frivolously was against the rules, as was discussing them without their knowledge. 

As with the previous times, Lan Zhan could only conclude that Lan Huan’s question was really an inquiry into Lan Zhan’s own progress and how he compared to his year mates. He flicked a glance up at his brother, who smiled down at him as they walked. “Chen Hehua has surpassed me in sword cultivation,” he admitted.

“Ah. Chen Hehua has shown promise,” Lan Huan offered slowly. “Do you like him?”

Lan Zhan frowned. “Like him?” 

“Is he your friend?” 

Chen Hehua had pushed him into the cold pond three days ago. He and his friends had only sneered when Lan Zhan had reminded them, “Fighting is forbidden in Cloud Recesses.” Laughing, arms around each other, bright and happy, they had left him shivering in the pond. 

“No.” 

“I see.” Lan Huan squeezed his hand. 

Lan Zhan really was too old to hold someone’s hand walking anywhere that wasn’t immediately dangerous, but Lan Huan had looked so happy and hopeful when he’d held his hand out that Lan Zhan had taken it without complaint. He would be teased for it later. 

“Your instructors speak highly of you,” Lan Huan said after a long stretch of silence. “In the guqin especially.” 

Lan Zhan nodded, once. Chen Hehua may have surpassed him in sword cultivation, but Lan Zhan was the best in their class in music. He looked up at his brother again. Lan Huan favored the xiao, and he took an hour out of most days to instruct Lan Zhan in it. Their mother had played the dizi, and Lan Zhan could still just remember the sound of Lan Huan and Mother playing together, and how he had thought that something was missing. Sometimes, when he played alone in the practice hall, he imagined that they were playing with him and nothing was missing. 

“I would like it if you would play for me,” Lan Huan said. He wiggled their joined hands so Lan Zhan would look up at him. “Maybe we can play together instead of practicing the flute tomorrow.” 

A soft warmth flushed across Lan Zhan’s cheeks. He nodded again. Lan Huan smiled at him, broadly enough to show his teeth, although Uncle always scolded him for it- You look like a simpleton when you show the whole world your mouth. Lan Zhan liked it when his brother smiled with his teeth, though it happened less and less frequently as he took on more duties. Their father hadn’t spoken to them since… since a snowy day more than two years ago. Uncle said that Lan Huan would take over as sect leader as soon as he took his courtesy name.

They mounted the last set of stairs to Uncle’s home and Lan Huan smoothed the smile away. Only the tallest peaks still had any sunshine on them, so it wasn’t easy to see his face anymore anyways. Lan Zhan glanced up at the sky. Disciples under twelve were required back in the barracks before dark. 

“There will be an exception made to your curfew today,” Lan Huan said, as if reading his mind. “Uncle has something to discuss with you, and he was held long in a council meeting.” 

Lan Zhan nodded his understanding. He had to pick up the hem of his robes as they went further up the stairs so he didn’t step on them. To guard against his next growth spurt, they were several finger widths too long. The extra length was a nuisance, and he wished he would grow more quickly. 

“Drop his hand. He’s not an infant.” 

Lan Huan jerked in surprise and Lan Zhan looked up. They had both been looking down at Lan Zhan’s feet, and so they hadn’t seen Uncle standing at the top of the steps. As soon as Lan Huan let Lan Zhan’s hand go, Uncle snorted and turned away. Lan Zhan felt his lips pressing together. He stopped on one of the steps and reached up to take Lan Huan’s hand again. 

“My robes are too long,” he said, and squeezed hard when Lan Huan hesitated. 

“We can’t have you trip,” Lan Huan said. He smiled then, too, but the smile was different, small and washed out like Mother’s smiles had been sometimes. He squeezed Lan Zhan’s hand briefly, and they resumed their trek up the stairs. 

Lan Zhan let go of his brother just before their hands would be visible to someone waiting at the top. Lan Huan slowed so he was one step behind Lan Zhan, hands held out to catch him if he tripped. Lan Zhan had the briefest thought that he should trip, and then Lan Huan would catch him and carry him the rest of the way to the top, and Uncle would know that there had been a reason for Lan Huan to hold his hand in the first place. 

He did not trip. Uncle was not waiting at the door to see it if he had. Lan Zhan felt a brief pang of regret that he’d let his brother’s hand go at all.

Children should not be coddled.

Lan Zhan was too old to hold anyone’s hand. He let the hem of his robes go, and they walked up the path to Uncle’s door without any further words or smiles between them. 

Uncle was seated at the table with tea already poured. He looked up at them expectantly as they removed their shoes and brushed accumulated snow off their cloaks before stepping inside. Lan Huan closed the door against the chilly breeze, and Lan Zhan arranged himself on the cushion opposite Uncle. He did not reach for the tea until Lan Huan had settled next to him, and then waited still a moment longer for Uncle to pick up his own cup and take a sip. 

Lan Zhan concentrated on holding his hands in the correct position as he raised the cup. The tea was hotter than he liked, and it made him jerk away when it touched his upper lip. A glance up showed Uncle’s eyes narrowed. Lan Zhan did not try to drink again, but he held the cup up like he was and blew very softly across it. 

Uncle nodded slightly. Lan Zhan set the cup down. 

Niceties observed, Uncle looked over to Lan Huan. “You will take your courtesy name five days hence and accept provisional leadership of the sect on the eighth day of the lotus month. I will remain as your guide for another three years. At that time, you will take the mantle in truth.” 

Lan Zhan looked sideways at his brother without turning his head. Lan Huan had just barely turned fifteen. His cheeks looked very pale in the last of the fading sunlight, but he dipped his head in a short bow. 

“If you think it is the best time, Uncle.” 

Uncle did not respond to what Lan Zhan could clearly hear was a question. His eyes did not slide away from Lan Huan’s face as much as he blinked, and then he was looking at Lan Zhan when his eyes opened again. 

“Three weeks ago, we accepted a betrothal contract with the Jiang sect of Yunmeng.”

Lan Zhan did not immediately understand what his uncle meant, but Lan Huan went tense at his side. 

“Uncle,” Lan Huan said, his voice uncharacteristically breathy. “He is only eight.” 

Uncle snapped his eyes back to Lan Huan, who bowed reflexively. Only then did Lan Zhan understand that they meant him, that they had accepted a betrothal contract for him. He tried to remember current members of the Jiang clan. He had met some of them before, once, at his mother’s house. Madam Yu had sat across from Mother and Lan Zhan had sat across from two children. A boy about his age, and an older girl. 

“Lotus Pier is our closest neighbor, and the recent troubles with the crops makes an alliance necessary. This betrothal will secure our friendship with the Jiang sect, and discussions have been ongoing with Madam Yu for three years. Considering your father’s… situation, and with a very young sect leader ascending this year, we will need allies.” It was rare for Uncle to explain his decisions, but Lan Huan would be sect leader in less than six months. The explanation was for Lan Huan’s benefit, not Lan Zhan’s. 

Lan Huan looked down at Lan Zhan. His eyebrows rucked up in the middle and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Do you know what a betrothal means, Lan Zhan?” he asked softly. 

“Yes, Brother.” 

“Would you… do you think you would like to be married?” 

“The contract has already been accepted,” Uncle interrupted, his voice carrying a note of warning. 

Careful under Uncle’s eyes, Lan Zhan reached out and touched one finger lightly to Lan Huan’s hand. “I will do my duty.” 

If anything, he thought it would be a relief to have the burden of uncertainty lifted away from him. He had known for years already that one day he would have to marry someone for the sake of his sect. He hadn’t understood at the time what marriage meant, except that his parents had been married. Beyond the somewhat opaque Rules of Matrimony, he still was not sure exactly what being married meant, as it hadn’t seemed to affect their individual lives much. They had lived separately, and had seen each other rarely. As far as Lan Zhan could tell, the only thing they’d shared at all had been him and his brother. His teachers had refused to discuss the matter with him until he was “older,” though they would not specify at what age he would be considered “older.” 

“Lan Zhan…” 

“The boy’s name is Wei Ying,” Uncle said with a grunt that sounded mildly dissatisfied, drawing their attention back to him before Lan Huan could say anything else. He reached into his robes and pulled out a sealed packet. He swept his sleeve up elegantly in one hand so he could offer the letter without dragging the fabric across the table. 

Lan Zhan took the letter but did not move to open it.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Huan asked, frowning again. 

Uncle huffed out a very short noise. “The son of one of Sect Leader Jiang’s friends. The boy was orphaned some few years ago. Sect Leader Jiang and Madam Yu recently adopted him. I understand that he is a promising child with higher than average cultivation for his age.” 

While Lan Zhan slid one finger under the seal, Uncle continued, “The original negotiation was for you and Jiang Yanli.” He nodded to Lan Huan. “Negotiations were suspended after your mother’s death and in consideration of your father's… absence. Unfortunately, in the meantime, an agreement was made with the Jin sect. This duty now falls to you, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan nodded. He unraveled the letter and frowned. The brushwork was almost illegible. It had been written in pale pink paint that further obscured the words, and a simplistic rendering of what seemed to be a lotus flower took up the bottom half of the page. Lan Zhan brought it closer to his face to puzzle out the first words, his lips unconsciously moving as he put the characters together. Only his own name was immediately recognizable. Compared to the rest, care had obviously been taken when forming the characters. 

Lan Zhan, hi! My name is Wei Ying. 

The character for the name - infant - was an odd choice, but the babyish calligraphy and poor structure fit well with the name. 

We’re gonna be married when we get old, Lan Zhan. Uncle Fengmian says it's like having a friend. I’m happy we’re gonna be friends, Lan Zhan. Tell me all about you! What do you like to eat? Do have a favorite -

Before Lan Zhan could finish reading, the letter was pulled out of his hands. He looked up, startled, to see Uncle glaring at it. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Uncle asked incredulously as he peered at the messy characters himself. “This child is barely literate. How dare they offer us such an insult?” 

“Uncle,” Lan Huan tried, voice placating, but his expression twisted, as if he was unsure if he wanted to defend Lan Zhan’s new betrothed or not. 

Irrationally, immediately, Lan Zhan was angry. He shouldn’t have been angry. He had never met Wei Ying, and he knew nothing about the other boy beyond his name and a basic understanding of his parentage. It should not have mattered to him if he was set to marry Wei Ying over anyone else. Despite those facts, Lan Zhan was angry that his Uncle would insult his future spouse. 

Wei Ying had said they would be friends.

“I will instruct him,” Lan Zhan said. He rose up on his knees to take the letter back, startling his uncle and brother both as he pulled the paper out from between Uncle’s hands. He thought that Uncle wanted to protest, but he had just done the same thing moments before and Expect nothing from someone else that you will not practice yourself. 

“He is my betrothed. It is my duty to encourage and guide his education,” Lan Zhan continued, because that was in the Rules of Matrimony: Encourage and guide the education of one's spouse down the right path.

After a moment of heavy silence, Uncle said, “So it is.”

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