#(they aren’t around here anymore but nevertheless the few times we interacted and they tried that w me made me paranoid for ages Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[deathxproof]

hm, out of all of the things I was expecting when I slowly started putting myself back in fandom spaces, “unresolved trauma from being an autistic kid/teen who was always perceived as Too Much” wasn’t on the list, to be quite honest.

[neko-rogers]

72 Hours

You only have 72 hours to detain Steve Rogers. He’s the only opportunity you can get to find out what happened and why half of the population mysteriously disappeared.

word count: 3,168

tags: eventual dark!steve rogers and non-con; however, none much in this chapter but plot and interaction

    Things escalated so quickly.

    Ever since half of the world population had suddenly disappeared, which left fewer people walking around the streets of Manhattan, your job had become stressful yet so useless. The rest of the investigative crew are close to giving up and adapting to what has been left.

    Meanwhile, here you were. Neither convinced nor ready to accept the fact that most of your friends and family have vanished.

    Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. By now, the withdrawal is coming close to a year and a half. Yet the clues you have gathered merely comprises for a month of effort.

    “You should be giving up on this already.” Two of your colleagues walk behind you, either of them comforting your bothered state by rubbing your back as a gesture to cheer up. The hint of hopelessness in their tone bothers you more than their initial intention.

    “I doubt you will be solving one of the biggest mysteries of the world yet,” they state with an implication of humor before pulling back. From the corner of your vision, you could see their jackets folded neatly and hung on top of their arms. Just as their uniforms remained pressed, it conveys that they were already prepared to check out of their shift.

    “But hey, if you do solve it, let us know. We’ll be more than supportive and grateful for your efforts, Agent.”

    “Thanks. I hope so,” your voice was soft, resisting to show any sign of weakness or vulnerability despite on the verge of breaking down on the inside.

    Within a few minutes, the office was left noiseless. Most of the officers who had day shifts proceeded to depart by the hour until you and two others have remained.

    For you, it did not matter whether you got paid for overtime from your original schedule. Since you did not have anyone to look forward to when coming home, you preferred to spend most of your hours at work, searching for a way to somehow bring them back.

    The chances were so odd and slim. The fact that all your families and friends near your location were wiped out. You could not do anything since you did not know who caused all this disaster, let alone the reasons behind the disappearances.

    As your elbows were resting on top of your desk, your head fell onto both your palms. A big sigh was released from your lips countless times already. This wasn’t just getting lonely anymore, you were obsessing over something that was far from your reach.

    The plain screensaver of the bureau’s logo was dancing over your desktop. Along with several pictures, specifically one or more for each member of the well-known extra-terrestrial fighting group of Avengers. Their superhero names were scribbled with red ink and pinned onto a small corkboard.

    Tony Stark.

    The name haunted you to your dreams. The billionaire who brought good and bad things into New York City.

     You are not entirely sure why your guts were forcing you to focus on this man amongst the rest of his alliance. But you were just desperate to cling onto any evidence blindly hanging in front of you.

    For the entirety of the event, you haven’t had a single report about him. Assuming that he’s been trying to hide from this mess, you tried contacting other bureaus from across the world in search of the man. For months of being very pushy, you have only been getting the same phrases like a broken record.

    ‘I’m sorry, Agent.’

    ‘No. We haven’t had any reports about Tony Stark.’

    ‘My crew has been trying their best, but there aren’t any traces of him.’

    ‘We assure you we’ll find him sooner or later, Agent.’

    ‘Please be patient, we don’t have much manpower here anymore.’

    For months, you have been at the edge of your seat. Eager to answer the phone at the first ring. If it’s not considered patient then soon enough it’s going to run out. You did not know what backup plan you have once that does happen though.

    Maybe going crazy would ironically be the sanest thing to happen.

    Nevertheless, you will eventually cross that bridge when you get there. For now, the only option you have is to overwork yourself to the edge of insanity.

    “A long day you got there, Agent?” A subordinate of yours passes by with two cups of coffee in her hand. She sets down the other right beside your computer screen and glances at the pictures splayed across your work area.

    You groan, a frown still evident as you sat up straight before replying, “Oh tell me about it, I’ve had the longest year.”

    She gave you a warm smile, like always around this time of evening. Though only being hired recently after a month of the mysterious disappearing arc, she continued to attend to her shift and adapt as the others would. And despite almost a year of greeting, and often bringing you a cup of coffee, you never really gave any of your attention to her.

    This time though, you looked back just as she was about to leave. You were quick enough to get a glance of her name plastered on her identification card connected to a lanyard that draped around her collar.

    Agent Maria Hill.

    “Agent Hill,” you addressed her. She turned around with a smile, looking neatly as ever with her hair combed and pinned in a neat bun.

    “Yes?”

    "Thanks for the coffee, like every night." Your gratitude combines with a warming smile that reaches out for her. Though appearing exhausted from staring at a screen and documents for hours, you tried to look your best when facing her.

    "It's no big deal." Her reply trails down to murmur a few indistinctive words that you merely brushed off, assuming that it was nothing but a nice gesture.

    Before her figure could entirely exit the vicinity of your workplace, you swiftly chirped, "And thanks for being so nice to me!" A chuckle was heard from her, leaving off with a smile as she walked away without responding anything in return.

    Immediately, your mood shifted again returning to your usual distressed state of mind.

    The coffee you drank earlier was wearing off from your system. You could drink the cup your colleague had offered, but you figured it could not do much now that your body could only harbor caffeine to such an extent. A twelve-hour shift with merely half an hour of lunch break would not leave you, or anyone, at best. By sooner, your eyelids were getting heavy, risking to doze off at work.

    Your fingers reached to move your mouse, dragging the cursor along with the useless mail your inbox has been receiving. Each of them took that least bit of hope of finding Stark, making you feel caged and haunted every day as there is not any progress in a year.

    Again, you groan, louder this time. Other agents around could have heard you yet shrugged your frustration casually since they have witnessed it for months. You ball your fists and slam it against your desk, rough enough to make a sound echo throughout the room, but not enough to break it into two.

    “Fuck, I need the rest,” you admit to yourself.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

    24 hours

    Days have passed. Like usual – nothing.

    As always, your routine started just as you were walking to the agency. However, amidst peacefully walking at the pavement, trying to get even a hint of peace of mind, the phone tucked inside the pocket of your jacket started ringing.

    The name of your agency was the first thing you have noticed as you faced the small screen. Moreover, you did not hesitate to slide the green phone button to answer.

    “Hel–”

    Just as you were about to offhandedly greet the person at the other line, they made their way to cut the conversation fearfully.

    “They found him! They found him, Agent!” The fearful yet impressed tone was evident, and eventually, you realized that the familiar voice belonged to Agent Hill.

    Nonetheless, your mind started wandering to different scenarios, jumping to conclusions like a kid. Despite barely hearing anything other than they caught someone, you were sure looking as joyful as ever. It was as if every bit of hope you lost each week have been restored.

    For a short while of daydreaming, you have recovered quickly. Moreover, inquire about the context of what she’s trying to refer to. “What do you mean you’ve found him, Hill?”

    Your heart raced quickly. The tension behind finding out who it was was far from the reality of it being a pause for mere seconds.

    Please say you have found Stark. Your mind could only pray harder for those words to be repeated from the other end of the call.

    “The team found one of the members of the Avengers,” she answers.

    “Which one of them?”

    “It’s Steve Rogers.”

    Your world partly crumbled after hearing a different name compared to what you were expecting. Nevertheless, happy enough that you were progressing on the vision you have laid out.

    “Hold on, I’ll be at the station in a few minutes.” You assert, turning around the corner of a street you were approaching. From here, there was a fair five-minute jog until your office. Considering that it was early morning, you did not hesitate to start speeding your pace.

    Right now, as if things escalated so quickly

    Once you arrived, you passed vacant offices until reaching the interrogation room. The other officers were gathered outside it, facing the two-way mirror that displayed the known Captain America.

    Maria Hill was standing closest to the mirror. Getting the best view of the super-soldier sitting peacefully inside the room. You approached her with a confused look upon your face.

    “How did you even find him?”

    “It’s a long story, there were two of them though we could only catch up with Mr. Rogers,” she explains.

    “Alright.” You motioned for your other colleagues to return to their original tasks. Both you and Agent Hill were left, given privacy to talk about what should be done.

    “Give me a moment with him, I’ll try to see what information we can get.” Agent Hill nods at you and hands over a folder. She gestures for you to take a step inside the room and reassures that she will be outside to act as a witness.

    As you enter the room, it felt colder in addition to the resentful stare coming from Captain America himself. His gaze does not leave you, following your trail up until you reach the metal chair and take a seat in front of him.

    Your back begins to sweat even after barely interacting with him. You did not know what could happen. For all you know, he could rip his handcuffs and beat your face over the table.

    Nonetheless, you tried to look as assertive as possible. Adjusting your posture to feel comfier in your seat and clasped both palms of your hands over each other. You look in front, seeing the man still staring at you.

    You took a deep breath to prepare yourself “Nice to see you in Manhattan again, Mr. Rogers.” Your voice was close to breaking, but you disregarded it. This is your nearest encounter with a superhero, so it would be normal for anyone to feel pressured.

    The soldier raises one eyebrow at your greeting. He pulls back and slumps on his chair, acting as if he’s the one probing the detainee. “Been keeping track of me, ma’am?”

    The tone of his voice instantly became cocky. Even so, smirking while his gaze shifts from the floor and back at you.

    “I have been keeping track of the Avengers for these past months,” you affirm. To prevent a boost of ego in his system, you also added, “But I wasn’t specifically keeping my eye on you, Captain.”  

    He imitates an offended look, placing one of his cuffed hands over his left chest. “Ouch. Was expecting a pretty woman like you tracking down America’s Golden Boy.”

    “Nonetheless, do tell me which one of us were you looking for. Is it Stark?” You tried to ignore his mood swings. The sudden change of being quiet, then proceeding to act hurt, and now seeming provoked even if you had not given any answers yet.

    You figured it was best to ignore his question.

    “Mr. Rogers, may I know what you were doing here in Manhattan and who you were with–”

    “I asked you a question first,” he reminds.

    “Look, sir, I don’t think it will help if I’m the one answering questions here,” you sigh. “So if you could please cooperate with us.”

    “Cooperate? Why would I?” He scoffs. “You can only detain me here for seventy-two hours at most. Considering that you have no evidence against me, you can only hope to pray for a miracle.”

    His attitude was not at all welcoming. Your blood started to boil at the man seated in front of you, acting as if he is completely innocent about all this.

    “Is it true that you aren’t withholding any information about the disappearance of half of the world population?” You argue with a brow raised at him.

    “I know nothing,” the man answers.

    “And if you do know something, that’s obstruction of justice. You know that right, Captain?”

    He smiles faintly. This time he breaks his stare, looking at the floor while answering, “Yes I do, ma’am. Very well.”

    His expressions were starting to drive you crazy. You were used to this kind of scenario back when things were normal. Though after the events transpired, it has been a year without you interrogating someone who was held inside this room. You’ve gotten subpar upon looking like an intimidating officer.

    “Okay then.” You nod, “Can you explain to me why you and your accomplice tried to run away from the cops.”

    “We didn’t,” he said, ever so boldly. “Your friend, over there, spotted us and tried to cuff us immediately. Which one of you thought that was a good idea?”

   Your gaze follows onto the large mirror placed near the door of the room. You could only see both you and Steve Rogers, but you knew Agent Hill was at the other side listening to your conversation.

    “Look, half of the population mysteriously disappeared,” you sigh in between, “it’s not something a normal person would be able to perform. Can you blame us for following up on the Avengers?”

    “I guess not then, ma’am.” He nods, accepting your statement. “Still won’t change the fact that I have no idea about all these disappearances, yeah?”

    “Right, then tell me who were you with before Agent Hill decided to detain you here.” You lean back while crossing both your arms against your chest. Your teeth lightly bit the insides of your cheeks as you tried to hold out a frustrated sigh.

    “Well, I was with Nat,”

    “Nat? Natasha Romanoff?” You raise your chin, intrigued to find out more. “Five-foot five, Russian assassin, shoulder-length vermillion hair, Natasha Romanoff?”

    “That’s impressively accurate.” Steve Rogers chuckles in front of you again before adding, “Except that she’s blonde now.”

    You tried to take in a few minutes to grasp the information. The silence prods through your thoughts as you analyze the possibilities, perceiving that maybe, just maybe, you’re a few steps closer to Tony Stark.

    But the man disrupted your thoughts, “Still don’t know why you’re holding us custody despite all this. You won’t get anything, might as well cut to the chase.”

    “You’re quite a smart-mouth there, Captain.”

    “And you’re quite eager to find about Stark, Agent,” he mocks. You throw your head back in defeat. This was going nowhere and both of you knew it.

    Instead, you push against the table so you could finally stand up. You rest both your palms flat against the cold metal table, arms stretched wide to balance your weight out.     “I think that’s enough for today.” You grab the untouched folder before turning to your side to walk towards the door. “Thank you for trying to cooperate with us, Mr. Rogers.”

    As you head out, you noticed that Agent Hill was already out of sight. She most likely headed to do her job rather than to stand and watch you and Steve exchange nonsense.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

    As you get home, you dressed into casual home clothes and headed to bed.

    You could not entirely fall asleep. The super-soldier was stuck in your mind, frustrating you into the depths of it.

    You tried to ponder, grabbing the folder of compiled documents that Agent Hill handed you over earlier. As you opened it, the first layer of it was pictures of Steve Roger’s face throughout the week. You guessed that they were not just trailing him today, but also studied his moves for the past week.

    Furthermore, you flipped through pictures of him and his crew, but they looked like they were not in taken in New York. It was dark and the faces of Steve, Natasha, two other persons in the background could be seen fairly.

    “Huh.” You furrowed your eyebrows realizing that there were more details about them that you expected. For a while also wondering why Hill did not updated you about these at least.

    But eventually you acknowledged that you were so busy figuring out information about Tony Stark, that you forgot that the other superheroes he has worked with were just as significant.

    Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff. Sam Wilson.     Location: Edinburgh, Scottland     21:32. April 2018

    Steve Rogers. Natasha Romanoff.     Location: Manhattan, New York     13:05. October 2019

    His beard remained almost the same despite the year difference. His golden hair was brushed backed sleekly. His appearance was still alike a year ago which meant that he was trying to maintain that kind of appearance

    Compared to his clean, shaved aura back in 2012, you can admit that he looks way more intimidating now. You did not know whether he was trying to look different to prevent the bureau from recognizing him or if it was because he wanted to look like some creepy degenerate.

    Nonetheless, there were a lot of questions running around your mind. It was only tonight when you finally got to grasp on who and what you’re dealing with.

    However, your comprehensive scanning was interrupted after hearing a tap on your window. It did not sound as terrifying as it would, but it was loud enough to interrupt your thoughts from getting further.

    In the end, you set the files on top of your nightstand and switched on your lamp. You lay in your bed, eyes sealed shut yet your mind still wanders off, trying to fit together the pieces of the puzzle.

    When drifting to sleep, the most evident question strayed:

    Why was Steve Rogers, and his team, staying in Manhattan, despite hiding completely undisturbed in Edinburgh?

[improudofit]

hii!! could u do a jungkook reaction where y/n is a really jealous type (like she gets really jealous anytime she sees armys swooning over jungkook etc) and she wants to break up with him because it’s really hard for her to be with someone that is basically everyone’s crush? it’s up to you if they break up fr or if jungkook convinces her to stay! omg that’s so specific i’m so sorry skfksnr but thank u in advance! :)

hey! thanks for the idea.

if all fails...i tried. sorry in advance if this doesn’t work for you.

hope this fits what you were looking for...

“This is my job, Y/n..”

For most shows Jungkook would perform with the boys, interact with the fans and even provide a bit of fan service for Armies but never fail to look directly into the camera for you viewing from home or work.

You’d watch from the comfort of your bed wrapped in one of Jungkook’s hoodies or t-shirts trying your hardest to compose your jealousy. You try to remind yourself that its part of the job, to be loved and even adored by fans and it wasn’t the best feeling.

Nevertheless, you understood, giving that he would always make it up to you once he got home.

You smiled anticipating the joy ride he’d have planned. Your lewd thoughts we’re interrupted by the heighten of armies cheers as you’re eyes practically glue to the screen in your hand. A fan was invited on the stage, like every concert. Yet, something was off about this one. Nevertheless the interaction continues as your boyfriend Jungkook begins to speak while practically sweating through his this navy blue blouse.

Jungkook, being the flirt he is, noticed the flustered Army, then proceeded to unbutton a few more buttons revealing his chest. “It’s a little hot in here, right?” Was the last statement you heard before shutting your phone off, waiting for his flirty ass to return home.

About an hour later he walks in as you hear his huge duffle bag fall by the door.

“Jagiya? Are you awake?”

He asks as you remained turned facing the wall opposite of your bedroom door.

His figure creates a shadow from the light in the hallway was he stands in the doorway. You hear the zipper of his hoodie slide down as his footsteps lead to your bedside. Jungkook smirks knowing you aren’t sleep, but proceeds to go along with your attitude. “Are you upset?” he asks sitting behind you tracing figure-eights on your exposed lower back.

You shot up from the audacity this man has to come and ask you that. “Are you serious, Jungkook? You know what you were doing.” You poke his chest becoming angrier by the second as that ridiculously sexy smirk refuses to leave his face. He remains quiet for a few more minutes to let you blow off some steam.

“You know I do this for Army, Y/n.” he responds waiting for a response from you. “I know but.. don’t you think you’d tone down the sexiness? You wouldn’t like if I was out there flirting right?” you stand your ground. “Yes i’d be a bit jealous, but Id understand if it was your job.”

“I don’t want to have the same argument every night I come home from a show.” he stands up rubbing his face, obviously annoyed. “Talk to me when you get out of your feelings about this.” Jungkook leaves you in your bedroom heading to the living room, shutting the door behind him.

The next morning you walk into the kitchen seeing Jungkook up in the kitchen. Last night was a sleepless one, “Never go to bed angry..”

You remember the agreement you two made after your first fight. Only the lord knows hows how many you two have had since then. You join Jungkook in the kitchen as his eyes remain glued to the bowl of cereal in front of him. Silence is the only thing shared between you both as you brew coffee without sparing him a glace, same with him.

You were expecting things to go back to normal, yet you’re just dreading the next time he comes home from a concert. It’s exhausting dating the maknae of a iconic kpop group. You don’t think you can do this anymore.

“What?” Jungkook spoke as you turn around in shock that you said that out loud. “Are you serious?” Immediately you regret everything you just thought about, how could you leave? But he can’t keep over looking it like he always does.

“Y/n, I know you don’t like the attention I give Army but do you think that it’s so intense that we have to separate?” Jungkook rambles meeting you at the counter holding your hand. “Jungkook I hate it. I know it seems like just some silly jealousy thing about me but I really dislike it and I hate when you dismiss it like some inconvenience of mine!” You explain to him.

“Then what can I do? Jagi I can’t just stop performing all together.” Jungkook questions searching my pupils for some type of opposing emotion. “That’s why I think we should end things.” You finally admit as Jungkook seems to lose his words, along with his grasp of this relationship.

Deep down this relationship wasn’t the strongest. Yet the optimistic Jungkook always would try to get you to see things from his perspective, which you tried.

“Keep it together Jungkook,” he’d repeat to himself during a fansigning later that day.

[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER VIII

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: severe swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of fire

WORD COUNT: 3.2k+

AN: this chapter took an achingly long time to complete, and while it’s not very long, it’s really important!!

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

"Stop fidgeting," Taehyun said through gritted teeth.

"I can't help it," Beomgyu responded, teeth similarly clenched. He waved politely as he sat down on the throne. "This is so itchy. I told the seamstress not to put the silver stitches down the side of the trousers, but evidently she didn't listen to me."

"Well do try and endure it," Taehyun said, a plastic smile on his face as he bowed to the noble who came up to him. “We have three more hours of this.”

Beomgyu crossed one leg over the other, trying to quell the itching. He rubbed his nose, annoyed. “Who made the revel this long?” he demanded, glaring at Taehyun.

“You said to keep it as if it were a real revel,” Taehyun replied smoothly. “Don’t you remember?”

Beomgyu sighed. “The flower ritual, the ballad composing, the synchronised dance and then the free dance? Is the schedule normally so packed?”

“Well, it’s a festival celebration,” Taehyun reasoned. “Those are always really long. Plus, we needed to include something like a flower ritual to make it seem real.”

Beomgyu grumbled, fidgeting with the silver stitches on his legs. “I can still go and interact with them, right?”

“Yeah sure, I don’t care,” Taehyun dismissed. “If you get mauled before your speech, it’s not my problem.”

“I won’t get mauled,” Beomgyu said. “That happened one time, okay?”

“Yeah, and since then we’ve hidden in the King’s Corner. Which you didn’t set up this time. But by all means, you’re welcome to try and see if you’ll be overwhelmed by the people.”

“Rude,” Beomgyu muttered. Nevertheless, he stayed up on the dais, elbow propped up on the throne’s armrest, cheek smushed against his hand.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun had gotten good at zoning out during formal events. He stood, next to Beomgyu’s throne, staring at nothing and thinking of nothing. He was completely and utterly zoned out from everything that was going on around him. When he registered a finger annoying at his sleeve, however, he gradually zoned back in. Taehyun looked down, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Those ruffles look annoying.” Beomgyu, eyebrows furrowed, was examining the lace ruffles of Taehyun’s sleeve, a look of utmost concentration on his face.

When Taehyun tried to tug his arm away, Beomgyu only held tighter to the fabric. Afraid of ripping it, Taehyun kept his arm in place, choosing to subtly glare at Beomgyu.

“Come on, I know you’re not really that fascinated by my sleeve. What do you want?”

“I want to know what colour this is. Ivory? No, it’s far too much of a soft colour to be ivory. Chiffon, maybe?” Beomgyu paused, frowning down at the sleeve. He leaned forwards so that his nose was practically touching the material, and spoke in a low tone. “Also, there are Lords watching me, and I don’t like it.” He leaned back with a casual smile on his face. “Ah, I’ve got it. It’s pearl.” He smoothed down the fabric, gently rearranging the folds so that they hung evenly. Taehyun’s ears burned when Beomgyu’s fingers brushed against his skin, and he quickly crossed his arms to prevent Beomgyu from playing with his sleeves anymore. He shot Beomgyu a glare, before scanning the crowds. The scowl slipped off his face once he noticed what Beomgyu had picked up on.

“You’re right.” He bit his lip, scanning the ballroom. Now he was paying attention, he noticed that something about the atmosphere felt… off. He widened his eyes a little, realising what it was. “Shit. Beomgyu, are you sure you still want to go ahead with this?”

Beomgyu looked at him as if he were crazy. “Uh, yeah? Of course? A few hostile Lords aren’t going to stop me.”

“No, no, it’s not just them,” Taehyun said. He nodded his head towards the ballroom floor. “Can’t you feel it?”

Beomgyu looked out at the ballroom, scanning the marbled room. He looked at the people, gathered together in their small groups, talking, dancing, eating. He looked at the few strange Lords lurking behind the pillars, glancing at the dais on which Beomgyu and Taehyun stood. He looked at all of this, before turning back to Taehyun. “No? I don’t feel it?”

“You don’t?” Taehyun said sceptically, scanning the ballroom himself. “Hm. That’s odd.”

Beomgyu tilted his head. “Why? What do you feel?”

“I don’t know, it just feels… something feels… not right. Something doesn’t feel right.” Taehyun shook his head. “Don’t worry. It’s probably nothing.”

Beomgyu eyed him for a moment, before signalling over one of his personal guards. “Call in the Invisi. Something’s not right here, and we need to be cautious.” The guard nodded, stepping down from the dais to carry out the order. Taehyun looked at him curiously.

“You’re bringing in the invisible guards?”

“I trust your judgement,” Beomgyu stated simply. “If something happens, it’ll be good to have them here. If nothing happens,” Beomgyu shrugged. “That’s fine too. They won’t appear unless necessary, so it’s no harm done if we don’t need them.”

Taehyun nodded slowly. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense,” he acknowledged. “You trust my judgement that much, huh?”

“Well duh. You’re literally one of the smartest people in Gojongja. I didn’t pick you to be my vizier just out of spite,” Beomgyu said. “I’d rather like to have you by my side as I rule.” He quirked a small grin. Taehyun’s ears warmed at the unexpected compliment. With a start, he realised he missed this. Missed how warm and friendly it could feel to be around Beomgyu. The past few months, they’d constantly be surrounded by this cold, electric chill around them, as if one wrong word would ignite an explosion from either one of them. He glanced down, and gave a small smile.

“So I guess you want me to be the Queen to your King?”

Beomgyu’s smile froze in place, before slowly slipping off. He gave a small scowl. “That’s not saying I want to be King,” he said. “I still haven’t forgiven you for that.”

And just like that, the fragile, comfortable atmosphere they’d created was shattered with those words. It reminded them both of how they’d managed to end up here, and the unspoken undertone of ‘I still haven’t forgiven you for betraying me’ hung in the air between them, like a cold, unshakeable chill.

Taehyun didn’t say anything, and returned his gaze to the ballroom floor.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

The two of them stood there on the dais for a while longer. Neither said a word. Beomgyu kept glancing over at Taehyun, while the vizier was intent on avoiding his gaze. Taehyun scanned the crowds of people idly, before doing a double-take and looking more closely.

"Beomgyu…"

"King Beomgyu, if you may," Beomgyu corrected, taking a sip of water. "We're in public."

Taehyun ignored him. "Where's Lord Yeonjun?"

“Oh, he’s visiting Aruyeo,” Beomgyu said calmly. “He had a letter to deliver. I told him one of our messengers could take it for him, but he said the person it’s for is wary of strangers. So he’s taking it himself.”

“He’s riding all the way to Aruyeo?” Taehyun asked, surprised.

“Yes. He left this morning. He might not be back for a while.”

“So he took one of the horses… and left? To Aruyeo?” Taehyun said doubtfully. “Do you trust him?”

"Yeah. Don't worry," Beomgyu patted Taehyun's arm, "everything is fine."

"Did you actually plan a speech?" Taehyun asked skeptically after a few moments.

"Yes. Sort of. It's all up here," Beomgyu said, tapping the side of his head. "I'll know what to say when the time comes, chill," Beomgyu sighed when Taehyun glared at him. "Remember the impromptu speech I gave when you crowned me? That was good, wasn't it? It'll be fine."

Taehyun hummed dubiously, but didn't say a word.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“Sir, it is almost time.”

Beomgyu nodded. “Thank you, Seojung.” He took the glass and decorative spoon offered to him, and looked over at Taehyun. Taehyun nodded.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said to Beomgyu.

Beomgyu stood up from the throne, and walked towards the front of the dais, lifting up the glass and spoon.

The light, tinkling sound of metal against crystal filled the ballroom, and gradually the chattering died down as everyone looked up at the King. As he looked around, suddenly, he felt it. There was something wrong.

Nevertheless, he willed away the foreboding feeling in his stomach, and smiled, a brilliant, sparkling smile, which lit up even the darkest corners of the ballroom. “You’re all well, I hope? I apologise for organising a revel at such short notice, but I hope you all don’t mind.” He gave another bright smile, looking around the room.

“As you all know, this revel is to celebrate the Flower Moon, which is today. Now, you may be slightly confused at this, since here in Gojongja we don’t really celebrate the Flower Moon. But, this date coincides with an important announcement I wanted to share with you.” Beomgyu clasped his hands together, and a little flicker of nervousness fluttered in his stomach. There was definitely something wrong. “About a month ago, Coronation Revels ended. During then and now, several things have happened, which I believed it would be best to tell you about.

“Some of you may know that an Aruyeonan representative came to my coronation, as is custom when a Gojongja monarch is to be crowned. This lord has the name Lord Yeonjun.”

“Cut the chase!” a voice called from the crowd. “We know what you’re going to say, so hurry up!”

Beomgyu blinked, momentarily thrown off, before quickly regaining his composure. “Alright. Lord Yeonjun came to propose an alliance, and I accepted.”

Outraged yells were heard from the crowd. Some people nodded their heads in a ‘I told you so’ way, as if they knew of the alliance already, while others looked outraged and shocked.

Taehyun’s hands, which were clasped tight behind his back, dug into the soft skin of his forearms. This was going to go wrong.

“I told you!” The same commoner as before yelled out. “I told you, that Lord told me he’d made an alliance, and no one believed me! He did this without telling us! He gave away our land!”

“Please calm down! I assure you, this alliance was made with Gojongja’s best interests at heart. I’d never give away your land. It is beneficial to us, it truly is.” Beomgyu placed a hand over his chest. “I swear it.”

“Sir!”

Taehyun’s fingers wrapped around his wrists tightly. He turned in the direction of the voice. Though his face didn’t change, inwardly, he cursed. Those stupid Lords.

“Your Greatness, if I may,” the Lord called out. “Even if this alliance was to be beneficial, don’t you think it would have been best to discuss with the public? This is their land you’re bargaining with, their lives you are potentially altering.”

Beomgyu frowned. “I am sure I just said that this alliance does not affect your land, nor your lives. The only thing we bargain is our knowledge.” He looked at Taehyun. “Is that correct?”

Taehyun nodded. “Yes, sire. The only physical part of our country that we bargain are the forests.”

“See?” Beomgyu turned back to the Lord.

“But still,” the Lord continued. “Discussing it with us beforehand gives us reason to trust you.” The Lord turned to address the rest of the public. “Do you think, having a new King make important decisions such as an alliance, without discussing with his people first, is a trait of a King you trust?”

People voiced their agreement, still glaring at Beomgyu.

“That is enough,” Beomgyu said, annoyed. “Please, sit dow-”

“Is it the sign of a good, strong King to team up with another Kingdom? Is it a sign that you are capable, if you need another Kingdom to back you up? And most importantly, is it the sign of a trustworthy King for you to do these things without telling any of your people?” The Lord scoffed. “It’s not. It’s not at all. You-” he stabbed a finger in Beomgyu’s direction- “are not a King I’d trust at all.”

Beomgyu blinked, shocked, before letting out a laugh. “Well that is indeed a pity! You don’t trust me? That’s understandable.” When the Lord opened his mouth again, Beomgyu held up a hand. “Enough. I am not even a year into my reign. And, being from a new clan, of course you don’t trust me! However, you must have seen me in court, perhaps about five years ago? And you’ll know that I am nothing if not trustworthy and have Gojongja’s best interests at heart. You, however…” he looked at the Lord, and gave a pitying smile. “You are a lesser Lord. Who, I believe, has only been in court for just over a year. What do you know about what I’m like?”

The Lord pursed his lips, face growing dark. He stood there, vibrating with anger, before rushing towards the throne. Before he could get far, though, Beomgyu thrust out his hand, presumably to use the wind to push him back. However, as soon as he flicked his wrist, the chandeliers suddenly exploded, raining crystals onto the ballroom floor. Most fires from the candles were extinguished as they fell, but some caught the ivy and set fire to the vines. People screamed, cowering away from the crystal shards. Over the chaos, the Lord continued to yell.

“He can’t even control his abilities! What sort of King is he?”

More voices began to chorus angrily against the King. Beomgyu didn’t seem to hear any of them, glaring at the first Lord who had spoken out. The Invisi had already begun to spill in from where they’d been standing to try and placate the people. Beomgyu was still stood, motionless, and Taehyun felt his hands curl into fists. He looked back out at the crowd, and saw that all the Lords had disappeared, and only the common folk remained. He felt his arm being tugged, and suddenly, Beomgyu was pulling him off the dais, away from the ballroom.

“Hey!” Once they were out in a hallway, Taehyun tried to yank his arm away to no avail, glaring at Beomgyu. “Let go.”

“Shut up,” Beomgyu glowered, striding fast down the hall. Taehyun was going to say something else, but caught sight of Beomgyu’s face. His mouth was set in a hard line, eyebrows furrowed. Taehyun hadn’t seen Beomgyu with anything other than an annoyed frown or a teasing smirk before, and this strange side of him sent chills down his spine. Beomgyu’s eyes, normally twinkling with a mischievous light, were now dark and fierce, and burned with a ferocity that Taehyun had never known a human to possess. Taehyun gulped, and let Beomgyu keep a firm grip on his arm, leading him to wherever the King was going.

“Wh-where are we going?” Taehyun asked.

“Council room,” Beomgyu replied shortly. “All the Lords disappeared, see? They’re probably there.”

“O-okay.”

Beomgyu glanced at him, and noticed the iron grip he was keeping on Taehyun’s arm, and let his hand release the vizier. Neither of them said another word.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Beomgyu threw open the door. “What-” he roughly scraped the chair across the floor, pushing it aside- “the fuck-” he slammed his hands down on the table, glaring at the other members of the council- “was that?”

Taehyun quietly followed Beomgyu, standing behind the King.

Beomgyu’s fingers curled into the wood, ferociously glaring at the Lords, who had suddenly gone silent. “Well?” he asked.

At that moment, the one troublesome lord strolled in, followed by an incredibly tall one. “Ah, you’re here already. I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself.” the Lord bowed mockingly, smirking. “Lord Haejun, Your Greatness. A pleasure.”

Beomgyu stared down his nose disdainfully. “I don’t care. I just want to know what that was.”

Lord Haejun widened his eyes, putting his hands up innocently. “Don’t put all the blame on me!” He looked around, and grabbed the tall lord’s arm. “It was Lord Soobin’s idea.”

Beomgyu let out a sarcastic laugh. “I’m not dumb. There’s no way this was his idea.” He stalked up to Lord Haejun, and brought his face close to the Lord’s. “Why did you do that? Why would you go to so much trouble as to put fucking bombs in my chandeliers?”

Lord Haejun looked unfazed, grinning obnoxiously. “No bombs, Your Greatness. It was simply you and your out-of-control power.” Beomgyu growled, and fisted Lord Haejun’s collar, pushing him up against the wall.

“You little shit,” he hissed. “That wasn’t me. You know that!”

At this point, Taehyun knew that he should step in, maybe separate the two, but he couldn’t seem to do anything other than stay against the wall, and watch it all unfold.

“Oops, looks like you found me out,” Lord Haejun said. As Beomgyu snarled at him, scrunching up the Lord’s collar even tighter, he let out a laugh. “Gosh, father said you were calm and composed! Where’s all that gone, hm?”

Beomgyu growled, and released the Lord’s collar. “Lord Namjae’s little boy, are you?” He turned to glare at Taehyun. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Taehyun, for some reason, couldn’t speak, couldn’t utter a word against Beomgyu’s rage. It was like all his words had deserted him. He opened and closed his mouth helplessly.

Lord Haejun straightened his collar, smirking. “He didn’t feel like there was any need, obviously. Anyways, Father’s away on business, so I planned the little… performance in his stead.”

Beomgyu clenched his hands into fists. “Little? You harmed the public! This is serious. Did you all know about this?” he thundered, glaring at the rest of the nobles. They all stuttered, suddenly unable to form coherent sentences. “Doesn’t matter. You probably all did.” Beomgyu turned his fierce gaze to Taehyun. “You take care of them. And this time, don’t fucking forget to remind me to change the members of this council.” He gave one more disgusted look to the cowering lords, and a venomous glare towards Lord Haejun, before sweeping out of the room. Taehyun stuttered weakly, hand raised. Beomgyu was just… storming out? He looked around the room, unsure what to do, before waving a hand.

“You- you’re all dismissed.”

And then, without waiting for the lords to react, Taehyun hurried out after Beomgyu.

“Beomgyu!”

Beomgyu turned at the call of his name, and saw Taehyun running to catch up with him. “What?” he snapped.

“A- are you okay?”

“I’m fucking fine,” Beomgyu said sarcastically. “I’ve just been accused of intentionally harming Gojongja, and called weak in front of the whole Kingdom. I’ve never been better.” He glared at Taehyun. “Don’t ask me stupid questions.” With that, he stalked off, leaving Taehyun standing shellshocked in the middle of the carpeted hallway.

“Sir Taehyun!”

Taehyun looked behind him to see Yeonjun coming up to him. It was evident he’d just gotten back from riding, as his boots were splattered with mud, and he still had a coat on.

“I saw all the glass in the ballroom,” he said, stopping next to the vizier. “And there’s a lot of blood, and some fire. What happened?” For some reason, the question ignited an irritated fire within Taehyun, and his mouth twisted into an annoyed frown.

“Well the announcement went fine,” Taehyun said sarcastically. “What do you think?” He glared at the Aruyeonan. “Just go to your chambers. Don’t interfere.” Yeonjun hesitated, but bowed and walked away, muddied footprints following him down the hall. Taehyun watched him go, and ran a hand through his hair. What the fuck had just happened?

[tenshindon]

*waves* Hi, I'm Silver. I want to write Yamcha more accurately (he seems really nice?), but I haven't the time or money to buy the manga or episodes, so... any tips, I guess? Can you help me? Thank you 🌻💜

hiya !! i’m always happy to talk about yamcha and The Character Of yamcha :) gonna put my thoughts under a read more cause this Might be long:

I havent watched Z or Super in a while but I do watch and read through the original Dragon Ball often so accuracy May Vary due to my trash memory. I’m also going to try to keep the games’ depictions of him out of this since accuracy varies among those.

The first thing I wanna touch on is Yamcha’s ego- especially how it evolves over the series. The main thing to keep in mind is that while he is generally cocky about his fighting abilities (which is a major weakness of his as he underestimates his opponents often and gets in trouble because of that), he’s never overly confidant with himself as a person; he seldom tries to paint himself as a better person in comparison to others and rather keeps realistic skepticism about himself. It’s also worth noting that, depending on how old Yamcha is in your depiction, his awareness for his fighting inadequacy compared to his friends varies (the older he is obviously the more conscious he is).

Next thing I’ma talk bout is something that i see kind of treated inconsistently; Yamcha’s relationship with women and his love life. I feel like a lot of people forget that Yamcha’s defining character trait in Dragon Ball was his gynophobia- he chased Goku and his friends so long for the dragon balls so he could remedy his fear of women. Of course, he eventually does date Bulma as they realize dating each other would resolve their mutual wishes for Shenron (Bulma’s being getting a boyfriend and as mentioned before Yamcha’s fear of women). As we’re all aware though, nearly a decade later Yamcha and Bulma mysteriously separate, and the reason for doing so is never explicitly made clear in canon (I could honestly make a whole separate post on Bulma and Yamcha’s break up- there’s a lot to discuss with it so if anyone wants that let me know lmao). The majority believe that Yamcha was unfaithful which, in review of his whole character, makes literally no sense- even just subtracting his fear of women (though I’ll elaborate on that later). But back on track and in regards to his fear of women, it never fully goes away. It just so happens that he’s most comfortable around Bulma, and since Bulma’s the most prominent female character of the series we tend to forget his fear in the first place. When around other female characters, he’s subtlety more anxious- or at the very least he isn’t so much of a playboy as fanon interprets him to be. One final thing to note is- unless I remember the series wrong (and anyone’s free to correct me on this)- Yamcha’s never implied to have gotten another girlfriend or even a lover at any point. Of course it’s hard to track the intricacies of Yamcha’s life- this is a shonen anime where slice-of-life episodes are limited, and even then Yamcha is far from being a prominent character anymore (post Dragon Ball).

Up next is his loyalty/friendships, methods of handling conflict, and overall courage because in my rat brain these all go hand in hand. Nevertheless, Yamcha’s a devoted friend- he’s shown time and time again to be supportive of his pals and, even in spite of his shortcomings, always does his best to help the gang out. Like i touched on before, as Yamcha gets older, he’s more and more aware just how far behind in training he is in compared to his peers. But that doesn’t stop him from trying to fight off whatever threat’s present. So with that we can infer that even if Yamcha can’t be the absolute best, that’s not going to stop him from at least trying if it means helping his friends or making them feel better. Additionally, he’s quick to stand up for others, even if he doesn’t know them too well or even at all and he’s shown not to hold onto grudges. One thing to remember is that, presumably for 16 years, Yamcha’s only companion was Puar (that’s not even considering his life before meeting her) and most interactions he has with people involve robbing them. His social skills might not be the best (though that doesn’t mean he can’t act socially capable- he clearly has no issue trying to make Beerus feel comfortable and like a friend at Bulma’s party) but again, his social skills varies with age and the situation. But again, referring back to his readiness to defend others, he isn’t afraid of getting into conflict if it means helping someone else.

Last few topics I’m going to talk about are his relationships with property, finances, and goals- they seem like a small topics but I still want to talk about it. Now hopefully we’re all familiar with Yamcha’s beginnings of being a desert bandit- and seeing his methods of obtaining items, he didn’t try to charm his victims into giving him their stuff. He just took it if he could if he couldn’t intimidate them and retreated if he couldn’t get what he wanted (which is also noteworthy of Yamcha’s awareness of his limits- a bit contradictory to his fighting ego but it seems that if Yamcha’s certain he isn’t able to win something, then he’ll save himself if it means delaying a goal or staying alive). He doesn’t seem to mind playing the long game either, as he’s willing to tail Goku and co. for months as he waits for them to gather the dragon balls without ever letting his true intentions slip. When it comes to finances, Yamcha doesn’t seem to care to heavily about them: back in the desert, Puar mentions to Yamcha that he should wish for money to which Yamcha dismisses it quickly, stating he could just steal money if he really needed it. It’s also worth noting that despite being a successful baseball player by Super, Yamcha chooses to live in a modest apartment. Either he’s very paranoid with money and, despite having enough to buy a full house, chooses to live in a cheaper apartment building or he’s more comfortable with smaller living spaces- which makes sense since he’d lived nearly two decades in a desert cave and had to scavenge for supplies (plus he seems to still think fondly of the desert as he has a painting of such in his apartment).

For the TL;DR version of this post, here’s essentially what you should keep in mind when portraying yamcha:

He’s generally a very lax, simple, and sociable person when he wants to be- though a bit socially awkward when he isn’t prepared

He’s not egotistical, but he has a bad habit of underestimating his enemies at times. this changes over time of course.

While he’s not itching for conflict, he is loyal and quick to stand up for friends and strangers alike

He acknowledges he isn’t the best, but that doesn’t stop him from trying

He’s ambitious and seldom gives up on his goals

He cares little for huge amounts of wealth or property and generally is just trying to get by in life comfortably

While not cripplingly petrified of women post DB, he still maintains a mild anxiety around women he doesn’t know- even around women he does know pardon Bulma he’s still a bit on edge

I’m done with my character study using the anime and manga, but I like talking about Yamcha so below this little buffer I’m going to get into how the games portray him. I might’ve forgot something or got some things wrong so feel free to talk to me about that if you want to. Anyways, you can stop reading if the above is all you’re concerned with- regardless if you keep reading or not, I wish you the best of luck in writing Yamcha ! :)

If you’re still reading, join me in my continuous ramble of the Rubix cube of Yamcha’s character because Toei and Toriyama can’t be consistent.

Something that seems to be portrayed a significant amount is that Yamcha’s aware of his charm and that he uses this to advantage to smooth talk his way out of situations- not that he just so happens to be good looking and endearing and his panicked socialization just happens to work out for him. In regards to his way of talking out of situations, that’s honestly something I could see if Yamcha acknowledges he’s against a threat much greater than his fighting abilities will allow him to handle- and it’s not like he doesn’t consider himself attractive, if we’re to take his reaction to losing his tooth as anything (in case you aren’t aware, he curses Goku for ruining his “beautiful” face). An example of this is most prominent is his interaction with Frieza in FighterZ, where Frieza remarks that Yamcha is both “handsome and sensible”, to which Yamcha attempts to keep the conversation casual so as to not have to fight (which he later points out to Goku once the latter urges that the three of them should just start fighting already). Though I’m sure his first reaction isn’t to talk his way out of something- he’ll just do it if the opportunity presents itself.

I obviously take huge issue with Yamcha’s portrayal of being a womanizer- his major goal was to settle down, get married, and live out the rest of his life with someone. So for him to be portrayed as having to juggle girlfriends is a bit strange to say the least. You could maybe argue that Yamcha hypes himself up to be a lady’s man as a way to cope with his anxiety (fake it til you make it y’know) but I have little faith in the characterization in Dragon Ball games and for them to think that complexly- plus, again, it contradicts with his humble and awkward personality.

Aside from these two notes, that’s all I have to say. so I’m done- forreal this time.

[themysteryofwriting]

for your bthb, how about logan as "the collector"?

@badthingshappenbingo

The Collector (Sanders sides fic)

Word Count: 3003

TW: Kidnapping, Taxidermy on a person, blunt force trauma, character death, implied use of a date rape drug, major character death

Everyone collected things.  Some people collect stuffed animals, other people collect pins, and even others collect stamps.  So why was Logan so different just because he collected people.

He had collected quite a few people throughout the years.  There was Patton, who had been there the longest.  He was a sweet guy.  Always cheerful, even now, trying to keep the others upbeat and happy.  Patton had been here since Logan’s senior year of college.  They had met at a small cafe.  Patton trusted way too easily.  It wasn’t hard to get that ball of sunshine to come with him.

The twins came about a year after Patton.  He saw them during a show he went to and knew he just had to have them.  The twins being Roman and Remus of course.  Named after the Roman legend and just exquisite in every way.  They took a bit more planning to get then Patton.  Which was no surprise considering Patton had literally walked with him until Logan had decided they were close enough for him to drug him. But nevertheless, the twins were added to the Collection.  It was such a shame he couldn’t talk to them anymore, but they had made their choice.  If they had listened, then Logan wouldn’t have to have gone to such extreme measures.

A little bit after that, and before the twins made their massive mistake came Dee.  He was a shy boy, who didn’t trust many people. He also had a burn on the right side of his face. He had actually met him before the twins, but it took nearly a year for Dee to trust him enough for him to get him.  He had only been with them a few weeks before the incident with the twins.  But it was clear after that that neither Dee nor Patton would be trying anything.

And his most recent edition, at least until today, going only a few months back. He had met him on the way to work and got the same feeling that he had gotten for the twins.  He just had to have Virgil.  Virgil took a little bit longer to get but he was with them now.

And today, Logan had found a new target.  He would have probably passed right by her if he hadn’t noticed the missing posters she was putting up.  They were missing posters for Virgil. He had seen them around here and there and had tried taking them down without arousing any suspicion.  He didn’t realize who had been putting them up though. Before doing anything, he had to find out more about her.  He picked up one of the flyers she had and walked over to her.  “I think you dropped this.”

“Oh thank you,” she said, smiling take the flyer.  “Sorry, I’m probably dropping them everywhere.”

“No, it’s fine,” Logan said with a smile.  “Do you mind if I ask who that is?”

The girl shook her head.  “He’s my older brother, Virgil.  He went missing a few months back.  Everyone else seems to think he’s run away, but I know my brother better than that.  We’re really close, he wouldn’t have left without telling me.”

Interesting. Virgil hadn’t said anything about a sister.  And she would be both a good addition to his Collection and a good way to keep Virgil in line.  “...You know what I think he looks familiar.”

“Really,” Virgil’s sister asked hopefully.  “Do you know where you could have seen him?  Was it recently?”

“....You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s my older brother, we’ve always protected each other….,” Virgil’s sister winced as she realized something, “I’m sorry, I realized I forgot to ask for your time.”

Logan smiled softly at her.  “Logan Berry,” he said introducing himself, using a fake last name just in case she decided to do some research.

“It’s nice to meet you, Logan,” she said, smiling up at him, giving off the same energy as Patton, “My name’s Rachel.”

“Why don’t we go to the cafe so we can talk this out.”

“Well I need to finish putting up these posters first,” Rachel said, “Someone keeps tearing these down, I’m free tomorrow afternoon though.  Maybe around 2ish?”

Logan nodded.  “Then we can talk then.”

Rachel nodded.  “See you then,” she said before heading off.

“Rachel Bosque,” Logan muttered, knowing her last name because of his research on Virgil.  He grinned a bit.  She would be an excellent addition to his Collection.  He abandoned his original plan of what he was going to do and head home.

“I’m home~,” Logan called out as he walked inside the house.  If you could even call it a house with how gigantic it was.

Before going to work, he went to check on the rest of his Collection.  Dee and Patton both glanced up and clearly knew what the look on his face was.

Virgil, like he had been the past couple months, was sulking in the corner, glaring at Logan.

“You’re back early Lolo,” Patton said with a smile that wasn’t entirely real.

Dee just sat next to Patton, already scared for the newcomer.  He knew by now that Logan wouldn’t hurt him if he didn’t mess up, but he was still quiet.

Logan nodded, smiling a bit.  “I think I found a good addition to the Collection.”

Virgil’s eyes widened in disbelief, where Patton and Dee nodded, having recognized the look on Logan’s face.

“Who is it,” Patton asked.

“You never told me you had a sister Virgil.”

That made Virgil growl.  “Leave her the fuck alone. She has nothing to do with this!”

“Ah don’t be like that Virgil, you know I’m not going to hurt her.  Besides, don’t you want to see your sister again?”

“I don’t want you to have anything to do with her.”

Logan tsked.  “Now Virgil, I don’t want to have to punish you again.”

Virgil flinched slightly before going quiet, he was still glaring at Logan though.

Logan smiled and hummed before going to do research on Rachel.  He hummed a bit as he did so, wondering how he hadn’t come across her before.  If he hadn’t already known that they were related, he might assume they were dating with the number of her photos Virgil was in.  It seemed like she worked in a theatre, working on props and stuff like that if the theatre’s page was any accurate.  The more he read, the more he was certain she would be a perfect fit for his Collection.  If his interaction with her earlier was any indication, she would be easy to grab.  He could probably slip something into her drink when she went to the bathroom and simple as that he would have her.

Noticing the time, Logan got food for himself and his Collection before planning everything for tomorrow.  He would have her before dinner time tomorrow, he just knew it.  After he finished getting everything together he headed to bed so he would be refreshed for their meeting tomorrow.

Upon waking up, Logan did his normal routine for himself and his Collection before double and triple-checking that he had everything he would need.  After being sure, he headed out to the cafe that they had planned to meet. He didn’t have to wait long, as Rachel showed up soon after he did.  

“Hey Logan, you weren’t waiting long were you?”

“Not at all, should I order us drinks?”

“Sounds great,” Rachel beamed putting her stuff down.  “I’ll go to the bathroom while you’re doing that.  Get me a hot chocolate, I’m not really one for caffeine.”

Logan nodded, ordering the drinks as she headed to the bathroom, slipping something into Rachel’s while no one else was looking before heading back to their table and putting their drinks down.

Rachel soon came out.  “So do you know where you might have seen him?”

“Well I’m going to have to think about,” Logan said as he watched Rachel take a sip of her cocoa and started a mental timer.  “I think it was about a month ago.”

“You saw him a month ago,” Rachel asked, a little too excited, “That’s so much sooner than anyone else has seen him!”

Logan smiled a bit.  “Well let me see if I can remember where.”

Logan kept listing places, with Rachel scribbling them down until he noticed Rachel struggling to keep focus.  

“Hey you don’t look so good, maybe you should head home.

Rachel nodded, starting to stand up before she stumbled again.  “....I don’t think I’ll make it home,” she muttered, her words slurring.

“Well then I can take you home,” Logan hummed, “What’s your address?”

Rachel muttered something incoherent as Logan started ‘taking her home’.  Of course, that wasn’t necessarily her home.  Before too much longer she fell unconscious and Logan picked her up, a little surprised with how light she was, as he started walking home.

It didn’t take too long for them to get back and quickly injected her with the tracker he injected all of them with and quickly set that so he’d be alerted if she tried to leave or anything like that.  As soon as that was set up he brought her to the others.

“What did you do to her,” Virgil practically shouted upon seeing Rachel.

“Oh calm down Virgil, it was only something to keep her unconscious a bit.  She’ll wake up soon.”  Logan put her down on one of the beds and as soon as Logan stepped away, Virgil ran up to her to make sure she was okay.

“I’ll come back to check on you later,” Logan said with a smile as he left.  Virgil just growled at Logan, trying to protect his sister.  Logan just smiled, needing to get everything else ready for when she woke up. Well, technically most of it would be coming tomorrow but he still needed to get it ready.  He wanted his Collection to be happy after all.  He kept an eye on the time for when he knew Rachel would be waking up.  

Once the time approached, he got up and headed back over.  Sure enough, Rachel was starting to stir.  Virgil started glaring at Logan as he showed up, to which Logan only responded with a smile.

“...Virge,” Rachel asked quietly, starting to sit up.  It was almost like if she was afraid if she spoke louder he’d be gone.

And just like that, Virgil turned away from Logan to pay attention to his sister.  “I’m right here Ray, I’m so sorry.”

Rachel practically tackle hugged Virgil and sniffled a bit.  “You’re okay, you’re really okay.”

“Depends what you mean by okay,” Virgil muttered, glaring a bit at Logan again.

Rachel noticed and finally got a good look at their surroundings.  He watched as her eyes glanced around the room, which he made sure had things for all of them to do, before her eyes landed on him and she realized what happened.  “...Logan you….drugged me?”

“I’m sorry, but I needed to grab you quickly, and besides, now you’re reunited with Virgil,” Logan said.

Logan could practically see the moment she realized.  “You….you were the one who took him.”

“He was just a perfect addition to my collection, just like you.”

Virgil clung tighter to his sister as Logan said that.

“Now I’m sure the others can explain everything to you, but the most important thing.  As long as you listen to me, you won’t get hurt.”  Upon saying that, Logan walked away, hearing Patton starting to explain everything to Rachel.  

And with that Logan went back to his normal schedule….at least for the next 3 weeks.  Once Rachel had been there for three weeks, just when Logan was about to go to bed, he got an alert.  

He glanced over to see who it was.  It looked like it was Virgil and Rachel.  Logan sighed and got up to check on the situation.  Fortunately, they weren’t anywhere close to the door so Logan headed to a good place to meet up with them, hoping the situation was like he thought it was.

Soon enough, they showed up, Virgil all but pulling his sister along.  Rachel glanced around looking scared and actually freezing upon seeing Logan standing there.  

Virgil growled upon seeing Logan.  “I’m not going to let you keep us here.”

“Did Patton and Dee never tell you about the twins?”

“The twins,” Rachel asked quietly.

“They are part of Collection too, but they tried to escape, and...let’s just say they’re not with everyone else.”

Virgil realized the implication and pulled Rachel behind him, protecting her.

“Now you have two options.  You two can either go back to the others and have a small punishment in the morning, or you can fight me and lose, and find out firsthand what exactly happened to the twins.”

“Virge I-,” Rachel said, clearly terrified.

“Well I choose option 3, I knock you out and get my sister and me out of here,” Virgil’s voice softened before speaking to Rachel.  “Don’t worry Ray, I got this.”

Logan just smirked, prepared to fight.

Rachel nodded slightly and stepped back, not wanting to get caught up in the fight.

“Let’s do this,” Virgil growled, immediately lunging at Logan.

Logan sighed and literally just stepped to the side and avoided him.  “You know you’re going to have to try harder than that,” he said with a scoff.

Virgil just growled again and changed into a fighting stance before going into attack.

Logan easily fought back.  He was almost a little bored with how easy this was.  “I’ll give you one last chance to go back to the others, Virgil.”

“Fuck no,” Virgil hissed, still trying, and failing, to knock Logan out.  Not that knocking him out would have stopped him anyways with the chips in their arms.  

“So be it,” Logan sighed grabbing an encyclopedia from the desk and while Virgil was distracted, he swung with all his might, making sure to hit him in the temples.

Logan smiled a bit as Virgil crumpled to the ground and he checked for a pulse.  Had to make sure he was dead first after all. First, he held his hand up to Virgil’s nose and mouth.  No breathing.  Good.  Logan then checked for a pulse and smirked.  Just one last check.  He grabbed a penlight from his desk and shined it in Virgil’s eyes.  No reaction from either pupil.  Perfect he was dead in every way that mattered.  

Upon hearing a sob from the doorway to the room, Logan remembered Virgil wasn’t the only one there besides him.  He got up and Rachel flinched and stumbled back.  “P-please I-I'll go b-back.  I-i don’t w-want to d-die.”

Logan only smiled, leaning down to Rachel’s height and caressing her cheek. “Oh I know, you were just following your brother’s terrible decisions, weren’t you?”

Rachel nodded, possibly from fear, but to Logan that didn’t matter.

“Let’s take you back Rachel,” Logan said with a smile, trying to hide Virgil’s body from her.  It didn’t matter that she had tried to leave as well., she needed time to process before seeing that.

Rachel nodded softly, letting Logan lead her back.  Logan smiled a bit as she was brought back to the others.

“Rachel,” Patton asked, shooting up in worry, “Oh thank goodness you’re okay!  Wait...where’s Virgil?”

That one question and Rachel broke down in a sob.

“Patton, you can make the next couple of meals,” Logan said, “I’m going to up late tonight with a project.”

Both Patton and Dee paled slightly upon hearing that.  “Alright Lolo,” Patton said, moving to comfort Rachel.

And with that Logan set off to get to work.  He needed to at least get the basic stuff down today before the body started rotting. He picked up Virgil’s body and brought it over to the same place he had worked on the twins’ bodies and quickly got to work.  Once he had finished the basic work, gotten rid of everything he didn’t need, and preserved the skin so it wouldn’t dry out, Logan headed to the bed for the night.

It took about a month to finally finish, with breaks to get the stuff he needed to get done and to check on the rest of his collection.  Once done, he moved it to the same place as the twins.

He figured Rachel would want to see what happened so he came to get her.

“Lolo please,” Patton said, knowing what Logan had planned, after all, he had shown the two of them after he finished with the twins, “No one deserves to see that.”

“Just consider this….a punishment for trying to escape.”

Patton nodded and turned to Rachel, who was hiding a bit behind Patton.  It seemed like she was a little scared of him now.  Not that he could blame her.

“Logan’s not going to hurt you, he’s just going to show you something.  And we’ll be right here when you get back,” Patton told Rachel softly.

Rachel nodded, mutely getting up and following Logan.  

Logan smiled a bit as he led her to the room.  “I just thought you’d like to see what became of Virgil.”

Rachel glanced up at him in confusion as they arrived at the room and Logan gestured inside.  He let Rachel walk inside first and waited until he heard her drop to the ground before following her in.

Rachel had dropped to her knees and was just staring up at the taxidermy of Virgil Logan had worked so hard on.  

“You don’t have to worry about any of this as long as you don’t try to escape again,” Logan said, “And listen to what I say.”

Rachel nodded mutely.

Logan smiled and brought him back to the others.

Most people collected objects, but Logan collected people.  So what if that made him different.  It’s not like he was doing anything wrong as long as he kept them happy.

[sukarabia]

Ruggie x Sky - How Pretty

Because I’m a sucker for festival dates, after all T_T

Sky let out a dejected sigh as she walked through the festival stalls. Everywhere she looked were couples, friend groups, or families, all having fun: yet here she was, ruminating as she hung her head low. Night Raven College was celebrating one of its anniversaries, and truly, she couldn’t even remember what that celebration was for. But what she knew is that she messed up, big, big time.

--

“Oi, Sky- you sure about this? That box’s kinda heavy, isn’t it?” Ace looked dubious as he saw Sky pick up a box full of paint tins.

“Ace, what do you take me for? Carrying such a small box will be a piece of cake for me.”

She regretted those words as soon as they left her mouth. What was even in that box? Sky was told it was only 'a few’ paint tins meant to help the art club design posters, but the box was a lot heavier than she had thought. Nevertheless, her pride wouldn’t let her admit that she couldn’t carry it- so off she went, legs wobbling. But seriously- why was that box so big? She couldn’t even see the ground, and-

“Wah- Sky, careful!”

“Huh?”

As soon as she heard Ace’s voice, Sky looked up- only to feel herself lose balance on the slippery ground. Her brain couldn’t process what had happened- but in the span of a few seconds, she landed on the ground, the box’s content shattered on the floor, and saw... someone drenched in paint?

“Sky, you oka-” Ace rushed over before stopping. “Who- WAH? Dorm Leader Riddle???”

“R-Rosehearts-senpai?” Sky’s eyes widened as she heard Ace pronounce his name. But her classmate was right- right in front of her was Riddle, completely drenched in green paint.

“.....”

Riddle stood there for a second, seemingly processing what just happened. Ace and Sky, frozen in fear, waited for him to explode- but to their surprise, Riddle just sighed and wiped some paint off his face. His eyes seemed to say, not surprised.... as he spoke to Sky:

“Sky, I think it’s better if you don’t handle the manual work- as a matter of fact, I think it’s better if you walk around the festival for now.”

--

Sky felt tears prickle her eyes as she recalled the events. Ah, seriously, how could she embarrass herself that badly? Ace tried to cheer her up, “Do you not realise how lucky you are?? It would have been off with your head for me!!”, but even her friend’s attempts at recomforting her felt futile as she remembered the expression on Riddle’s face.

It’s not like I was expecting anything from you, anyway. It was the exact expression everyone always looked at her with. Especially him. It felt that as time passed, the distance between them was growing further and further- she was trying her best, but no matter what she did, things always ended up going south. Would she always remain the little black duck of the family? Lost in her thoughts, Sky did not notice the silhouette behind her, until she felt a hand on her shoulder-

“Kyaaah!! what-” Sky jumped, startled, until she recognised the owner of the hand. “Ruggie?? You scared me!”

“I could say the same thing, y’know! What’s up with ya? I tried callin’ you, but you just wouldn’t pick up. What are ya doin’ all alone?”

“Ruggie....”

“Huh? Why are you crying? Wait, wait, explain-”

--

“... So that’s what happened, huh.”

“Ugh... Seriously, so embarrassing... I wanna hide in a hole....” Sky sighed, sitting on a bench, a little further from the festival.

“But aren’t ya happy? That he didn’t get mad, I mean?”

“Of course not!! If he doesn’t get upset, that means he was totally expecting it!!” Sky eyes teared up again. “I tried so hard to build a reputation, but now it feels like everyone knows how useless I am, that they don’t even have expectations for me anymore....”

Ruggie looked at the young girl next to him. Slowly, he reached his hand to pat her head, looking away as she started sobbing. The laughter and lights from the festival in the distance seemed almost cruel as Sky struggled to catch her breath. Why do things never go as planned?

“... Ain’t that better, though?”

“Huh?” Surprised, her tears stopped as she peered over at Ruggie.

“The fact that people know how you truly are, y’know. Doesn’t it feel better, to not have to keep up a front and whatnot?”

“But-”

“No one’s perfect, y’know. Not Jamil, not me- not even Vil-san, or Malleus-san. Everyone goes through hardships ‘n’stuff. Ain’t that normal?” At the mention of Jamil��s name, Sky’s face fell. “We all go through trials, and that’s what life’s all about, doesn’t it? Doesn’t come with a guide book or anythin’.” His eyes met Sky’s. “What just happened, wasn’t that because ya didn’t ask for help? It’s rich comin’ from me, but y’know, asking for help isn’t a bad thing. No one’s gonna judge you for that, m’kay?”

Sky let out a small hum as she diverted her attention back to the stall. The lights seemed even stronger reflected in her teary eyes, and Ruggie was almost enchanted by the sight. Shaking his head, he snapped out of it, and stood up. Startled, Sky looked at him with a surprised expression as Ruggie extended his hand to her.

“Now, what d’ya say about us visiting the festival? Might as well, right? Shishishi ~”

--

“Waaah, Ruggie, you’re amazing!!!”

Sky marvelled over Ruggie’s goldfish scooping skills, as the young hyena managed to catch another 3 goldfishes at once. The Octavinelle student responsible for the stand seemed to grow more and more uneasy as his goldfish stock began to shrivel. Seriously, how is that guy so good at this...?

“Heh, that’s nothin’ for me, y’know ~” Ruggie’s ears wiggled, obviously delighted by the praise. “In my hometown, we often go fishin’, and stuff.”

“Fishing? But... not for goldfishes, right?” Sky looked caught off-guard. Eating goldfishes...? Seeing her expression, Ruggie could not resist teasing her.

“Shishishi, of course we did. Goldfishes are delicious, y’know? Want me to cook them for you later?”

“H-huh? No!!!! You shouldn’t eat goldfishes!! Look how adorable they are!!!” Instinctively, Sky protectively held her goldfish to her chest. Ruggie couldn’t help but laugh at her innocence.

“Shishishi, you believe me way too easily ~” but Sky’s expression remained full of suspicion. “... Oi, what d’ya take me for... Why would I eat goldfishes, there’s barely any nutrients in them, y’know.”

“.. Pff... Hahaha... Ruggie, you’re seriously so weird.” It was Ruggie’s turn to get caught off-guard. Sky finally looked like she was back to normal, and he couldn’t help but slightly blush at her smiling face.

“.. Ah, that’s right. Wanna go to another stand?” He tried changing the subject, looking away to hide his rosy cheeks.

“Ah- I completely forgot about it!” Sky jerked up, startling Ruggie in the process. “Ignihyde are doing a carabine stand- I heard Mayu sewed cute plushies as prizes, I wanna go!!”

--

“Aaah ~ that was fun....” Sky sighed as she sat on a bench near to another stall.

“Sure was. Didn’t know those Ignihyde guys designed a whole zombie-style shootin’ game... Kinda felt off with the whole festival theme, but it was fun ~” Ruggie leaned back on the bench, stretching as he drank a can of fresh coke.

“Ah... We walked for so long, I’m super thirsty now...”

“Mh? Wanna drink mine?”

“Huh?” Sky blushed as her eyes widened. “N-No way! That’s basically an indirect kiss!!!”

“An indirect ki-” Ruggie looked caught off guard, before switching to a grin, scooting closer to Sky. “Shishishi, if that’s the first thing ya thought about, must’ve been on yer mind, hasn’t it? ~”

“W-??? No, of course not!!!” Sky got up, as red as a tomato. “I-I’ll go get my own, you stay here!!!”

“Want me to-”

“No!!!! I don’t need you to come!!! You stay here!!!”

The young girl stormed off, ears flaming as Ruggie let out a small laughter. Man, was he glad to finally see her acting like her usual self again. Jamil’s Overblot really affected her, after all: for a few weeks, she barely smiled, sighing and looking dejected whenever she was alone. Ruggie had been seriously worried about her- she really took her vice dorm head’s ob personally, and had avoided all social interactions for a while. But a month after, it finally seemed like she was regaining hope. Aah ~ how troublesome... But I’m glad. He thought, watching over Sky as she pondered over which drink to buy.

“- Hey, isn’t that Gray-senpai lil’ sis?”

“Ah, Sky Cymatilis, right? Yeah, heard about her.”

“She’s kinda cute, isn’t she? Man, they’re really do look alike.”

“Nah, leave it, wouldn’t bother. They’re like night and day.”

Ruggie snapped out of his thoughts as he overheard two RSA students walk past. Were they talking about Sky? Little sister? Sky never really talked about her family, but Ruggie remembered overhearing Sky and Ace complain about older siblings. What that ‘Gray-senpai’ her older brother? And what was that last comment about?

“Alright, I’m back!!!”

“Ah, Sky, welcome back. What did ya get?”

“This cool drink from the Mostro Lounge stall, they had so many flavours!”

“I see, I see ~” Ruggie sipped on his drink absentmindedly, before turning to the girl next to him. “... Hey, Sky. Got any siblings?”

“H-huh? S-siblings?” Sky expression looked like she had just swallowed salt. “A-ah.. Well... I do... K-kinda... An older brother...”

Ruggie hummed a small ah, I see, as he finished his drink. Sky’s reaction told him what he wanted- that it was a sensitive subject all right, so he chose not to pry about it further. She’d tell him about it in due time, probably. On the other hand, Sky seemed preoccupied as she twirled the drink in her hand. Siblings, huh.... After a few minutes of silence, Ruggie plopped a hand on her head.

“Wanna go see fireworks? They should be startin’ soon. I know a perfect spot for that ~”

--

“Waaah, this place is so nice!”

“Heh, of course ~ Savanclaw’s the best place for firework viewin’.”

“Seems like a lot ofstudents thought the same, huh. It’s fuller than I expected.” Sky leaned back on the rock Ruggie chose, considerably higher than the rest. “But it’s a lot comfier than I thought, and we’re going to get such a great view of the fireworks!!”

“Shishishi  ~ Got that right.” Ruggie smiled, turning his head as soon as he heard a loud BANG! “Oh, they’re startin’.”

The two young students remained in silence for a while, in awe of the fireworks. Crowley made sure that NRC’s festival would be more impressive than RSA’s, all the way down to the colours of the fireworks- the green and blue-ish colours filled the night sky, reminiscent of auroras.

“Wow.... The colours are amazing... It really feels like I’m in another country right now....”

“Yeah, they really went all-out with that one, huh.”

The show went on for a few minutes, occasionally accompanied by a bunch of “Ooh”s and “Aah”s as the fireworks depicted the face of the great seven, as well as Crowley’s own mask- which brought a few laughter from the crowd. As a rain of spark came on during the finale, everyone cheered, raising their hands to the sky, entranced by the sight.

“Wow, that is so pretty...” Sky marvelled.

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” But Ruggie hadn’t been watching the fireworks. How could he? All his attention was devoted to watching Sky’s dewy eyes, illuminated by the large-flowered fireworks.

“.... How pretty.”

[reddie-fangirl24]

Reddie &the dance scene from the Titanic ♡

This was so fun to write! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy the story. The last half is based on a deleted scene from the film.

Support me on my Ko-Fi!

Eddie wasn’t sure what to expect when Richie took him down to the third class quarters. A party was going on in a rec room, that was for sure. Immediately, Eddie felt an immense contrast watching as people danced around lively, men performing a variety of instruments on a little stage playing Irish music, and everyone just having fun. 

Sitting down at a table with some of Richie’s friends, Eddie felt a little shy interacting with them. He met the group, or as Richie noted, ‘the Losers’, for a bit when he came looking for Richie that morning. They were all so welcoming generously welcoming him to the third class. 

Stanley was a nice fellow. He was fond of this woman named Patty. From the way they stared lovingly into one another’s eyes, a sting of jealousy ran through Eddie’s gut wishing he could have that with Myra. Bill was a writer. And Mike immediately made a conversation with Eddie, asking him questions about his own life. 

Out of everyone here, he was the only one who was dressed up. Richie shed off the suit that Beverly Brown had given to him for the dinner in first class right when he showed up. He untangled his hair from the gel that made his beautiful curls stick down. Embellishing the restraints of first-class, Richie happily mixed in back with his crowd.

Occasionally, Eddie saw a few people staring at him, even young children pointing towards him. Knowing that They must have been hesitant to talk to him not knowing how he’d interact with them. Nevertheless, they were all welcoming, more friendly than the people who were in the first class.

It was so embarrassing how most people from his own class looked down on those who were poor. Myra, especially. She kicked dirt on a child when they were on a walk once. Out of the goodness of his heart, he dropped a dollar in a can for a homeless woman who was playing music. But Myra shouted out at him, snatching the money right out of the can.

It was so lively down here. Joyfulness radiated off of everyone. Despite being the poorest of all the other classes, that didn’t matter. Clearly, one man had too much to drink falling over right near Eddie. But, he got right back up, dancing along with his friends. Eddie felt so jealous, wishing he could enjoy his own life like them.  

People in his own class had no idea what fun was anymore, just talking about money, what they spent it on, and boring conversations about politics. Eddie abhorred conversations regarding the subject, but Myra loved it, ranting on and on about any topic regarding politics. 

Richie was among the crowd of people dancing with the same little girl that Eddie saw him drawing with that morning. Eddie’s eyes hooked to the scene. He clapped along joyously to the beat of the music. He even enjoyed a glass of beer, something in which he never did. It felt so good to be a rebel for the evening. Wait until he told Ben!

The song ended. People clapped and cheered for the band. Taking a short break, the music started up again. Patty pulled at Stanley’s arm wishing to dance. Stanley gave in and they went up on the stage. Bill got up noticing this woman. And soon Eddie was alone at the table when Mike left him.

Richie bent down to the little girl. “Hey, I’m gonna dance with him for a bit,” he said indicating to Eddie. The little girl frowned. “Don’t worry, you’re still my best girl, Cora!”

Staring right into his eyes, Richie indicated for him to join him. 

“What? Me” Eddie asked surprised.

“Come on, get over here, Eds! You know you want to! I don’t see any other first-class rebels here!” Richie told him slyly. 

Lifting his eyebrows in surprise, Eddie briefly looked around to see if Richie meant the right person. When Richie stepped up the little stage, approaching him, with his hand out, Eddie nervously averted his gaze.

“Come on, we gotta loosen you up!” Richie encouraged him. He liked doing that which made Eddie admire him all the more. At least somebody heard his prayers for someone to notice his sorrow and pain.

“... I, um, don’t dance.”

“Are you bullshitting me right now? Everyone dances!” Richie huffed, helping him to his feet. “Come on, show me what you got!”

When Eddie was a little boy is mother spat at him whenever he acted out. He wasn’t doing anything bad. Dancing was one of Eddie’s favorite things to do, but it had been ruled out in all the unnecessary rules from his mother and Myra believing that it would only worsen his illness. 

“Richie...” Eddie tried to warn his new friend, but he had no idea what he wanted to say. He wanted to do this.  

Taking no buts for an answer, Richie took his hand and pulled Eddie onto the stage. Eddie never shared a dance with a man before. Years ago when he was with... that man, he never wanted anything to do with Eddie aside from one thing. When his mother and Myra found out about the affair, Eddie said goodbye to any entertainment there was in the outside world.

“We’re going to have to get closer.” Richie touched his back, pulling Eddie closer into his frame. Richie towered over him. Feeling his insides warm, Eddie entangled his hand into Richie’s large hand. This was it. They were really going to do this.

 “I don’t know the steps,” Eddie told Richie as a last resort before he may embarrass himself.

Ignoring Eddie’s pleas, Richie started dancing, looking right into Eddie’s brown eyes as he did. “I got news for you, neither do I! Just go with it!”

And that’s what Eddie did. They spun in every direction around that little stage throughout all the people. Eddie joyously laughed as Richie’s glasses bounced on his face. He gasped believing that they were going to fall off the stage when they got too close to the edge, but Richie pulled them away just in time. 

Richie led him in a close, fast-paced kind of dance with their bodies flush together and holding hands. Eddie did what he could to keep up, though their movements were random. That didn’t matter. People were having an exciting time spectating them, clapping and cheering over the music.

“Follow me!’ Richie stopped their dance to pull Eddie up on a little stage. Richie was front and center. Eddie already knew that he liked to be the standout. That’s what he adored about Richie (which he would never admit to his face). Richie was never afraid to speak his mind, even if he was brash or loud.

Richie began to dance again, his shoes slacking noisily against the platform. Eddie did not hesitate, joining in, dancing in his own motions and pace, upstaging Richie. Once Eddie started dancing, Richie stopped, staring at his rhythmic movements.

It all came back to Eddie. His dad took him to this bar when he was only four and they danced the night away. As his father noted, they need a break away from the lack of fun in their society. His mother was anything but happy, but Eddie would never forget how free he felt that night.

Eddie would never understand why his father married his mother. What was he saying? His marriage to Myra was arranged, too. On the nights his father put him to bed, he told him how he dreamed of becoming an inventor and just enjoying a free life. When he was of age, Eddie tried to run away, but his mother refused to let him go, trapping him.

Trying to dance in unison to Richie’s tapping feet, Eddie noted all the eyes that were on them. A first-class man dancing with a third-class man. They all clapped, enjoying the scene. Glancing over at Richie, he watched, smiling at him. Richie’s smile made his heart warm.

“Now that’s what I call loosening up!” Richie complimented him.

“Feel like you can’t keep up?”

“Wanna bet?” And Richie took both of his arms and started swinging them around in fast circles, twirling around

“Richie!” Eddie exclaimed holding tightly to Richie’s hand. This felt so strange, especially for a man of his age. He actually felt like he was twenty years old again, something he never felt when he was that age. “What are you doing?”

“Didn’t I tell yah that I was going to loosen you up, Eds?”

“I told you not to call me that!” Eddie giggled.

“Too bad, you like it!”

When they finished, Eddie was so dizzy that he stumbled over. Just like one of those fairytale stories, Richie caught him, holding him up from the ground. He stared down at him, holding Eddie tightly.

“You okay?” Richie asked, concerned. He touched his face with his gently soft hands.

“I have never been more than okay in my entire life!” Eddie exclaimed, his eyes gigantic, hooking his arms around Richie’s neck. When Richie helped him stand back up, Eddie hugged him so tightly. He was never an affectionate person, but he was just so overcome with excitement and gratitude.

“Takin’ things kind of fast aren’t we?” Richie turned up his brow as they stood there holding each other.

Eddie swatted his arm. “Shut up, you asshole!”

“Oh, we’re feisty tonight!”

Little did Eddie know that he was being watched from the staircase of third class. Myra’s angry eyes watched him like a hawk. Sighing sadly, Ben held the woman back indicating that she should wait until Eddie had returned from the party later on to confront the matter. Ben was beside himself with guilt. At least the man was having fun right now.

Taking a break, Richie went and got them beers as Eddie removed his jacket. Eddie had no what came over him. He guzzled half of the bear down in one drink. Richie stared at him, surprised.

“What, ever see a first class man drink before?” Eddie raised his glass high in the air as a toast for a night of freedom.

Richie followed, happily clinking glasses with Eddie. “You’re the first, you animal!” 

Unfortunately, somebody bumped into Eddie, splashing his beer all over himself. This riled Richie up who pushed the man away. “Hey, get lost!”

Eddie stared at Richie. He stood up for him. Nobody ever defending him before. 

“Are you okay?” Richie asked him, placing a protective hand on Eddie’s shoulder. 

Nodding, Eddie smiled from ear to ear. Normally, he set out in a panic furiously trying to clean out stains or germs. He just didn’t care. “Yes!” And that was the truth.

Distracted by two men challenging one another to an arm-wrestling match, the two watched. Eddie went along with the crowd encouraging for one of them to win. In a second, the match ended with beers spilling over.

“You call that an arm wrestle?” Eddie asked aloud, not aware that somebody could hear him.

“You think you’re strong enough?” The man who won the arm wrestle noted to Eddie. Let’s see you beat that man!” he indicated to Richie.

Staring up at Richie, the other wasn’t so sure of what to make of the moment either.

“I don’t think...”

“What, afraid you’re going to lose, Tozier?” Eddie was up for the challenge and he sat down, slamming his beer down on the table. He held out his hand. “Let’s see what you got in those muscles of yours.”

Clapping their hands together, the arm wrestle started. Richie was very strong. Sweat dripped from Eddie’s face, as he strained his arm, reminding himself to breathe. With his other hand, he gripped and clawed at the table, groaning. Finding strength he didn’t know that he had, Eddie knocked Richie’s hand against the table, toppling over beers to the ground.

Covering his mouth in surprise, Eddie stared at his shaking arm and back at Richie. “Did you let me do that?”

“No, that was all you!” Richie smiled at him rubbing his sore wrist. 

Eddie proudly took another drink from a beer. He hadn’t felt this was in years. Eddie felt like... a man.

Around them, a conga line formed as passengers continued to dance in excitement. Noticing, Eddie joined in and pulled Richie in. 

“I’ve never been in one of these before!” Eddie told Richie as they went along.

“Then you’re giving me a lesson, too!”

Eddie laughed jovially as he further immersed himself in having some fun with the third class festivities. As Richie told him, this was a real party. Having more fun than he ever did in his entire life, Eddie did not want the night to end. Everything about the evening was incredible.

--

Later in the evening, it was time for Eddie to return to first-class. Noting that he was a little hungover, Richie walked with him. It was chilly that night as the Titanic sailed through the quiet sea. 

Eddie and Richie started singing together, not well, which caused a few people to turn their heads at them.

‘Come, Josephine in my flying machine

Goes up she goes! Up she goes!’

They looked at each other confused when they forgot the lyrics that came after. 

‘Uh, something something on a bean...?

Where?

There! She goes!

On! My! The moon is on fire

Come Josephine to my flying machine!’

Just like that, the fun ended when Eddie took one glance at the first class entrance. Richie noted how he went right back to his sullen quiet behavior. The man frowned, stepping away. Instead, they looked out into the ocean.

“I don’t want to go back,” he said under his breath, hanging off on one of the ropes that attached one of the Titanic’s four smokestacks. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Richie, It was quite the experience.”

“Didn’t I tell you that it was going to be a real party?” Richie nudged at him, annoying Eddie. 

Noting how put down he became, to distract Eddie, Richie pointed towards the starlit sky. “Beautiful.” His insides heating, Eddie looked at Richie. He followed his gaze to study all the stars. 

When he was little he and his father star gazed all the time. Of all moments, Eddie wanted to return to those days where there were no worries. The night before his father died in some incident that his mother refused to describe the details, his father was indicating that he was going to run away with him.

“I guess whoever is up there must think we’re ants,” Richie noted, hanging off on the davits from the smokestack. He had a lot of kid in him for an adult.

Eddie laughed at the small joke. “I wish that’s what every evening could be like.”

“Maybe the stork mailed you to the wrong address,” Richie noted. “You’re not like any of them.” That was for sure. All those first-class people must have been screaming to let loose for once.

Something caught Eddie’s attention. “A shooting star!”

The star darted over the night sky, rapidly disappearing.

Richie’s eyes lit up. “Haven’t seen one of those in the longest times. You know, when I was little, my dad told me that shooting stars meant that somebody was going to heaven.”

“Whenever I see one, I make a wish,” Eddie told him, leaning over the railing at the stars.

Richie looked down at Eddie, looking at his gleaming eyes. “What did you wish for?”

Eddie could feel Richie’s body right up against him. He was so warm. He made him feel safe. Turning around, he was so close to Richie’s lips that he could feel his breath against him. If only...

“Something I can’t have,” Eddie confessed sadly.

Richie frowned, knowing what Eddie was indicating. He placed his hand on his face, removing a strand of his hair that fell in the way of his eyes. 

Before he could do anything that he may regret, Eddie retreated inside. “Good night, Richie.”

[theparanormalperiodical]

The Real Story Behind The Babadook (2014), And 17 Weirdest Bogeymen From Around The World That Might Be Hiding Under Your Bed Right Now

Strange times we live in.

It’s a Saturday night, and I’m hauled up at home eating a vegetarian lasagne whilst my mother asks me for the 37th time why I’ve decided to give up meat, when really, if there was no global pandemic, I’d be hauled up at home eating a vegetarian lasagne whilst my mother asks me for the 37th time why I’ve decided to give up meat.

It really is a strange time we live in.

But, in my attempt to protect the vulnerable groups in society and halt the spread of the latest Twitter hashtag in its tracks, I decided to catch up on the horror films hadn’t found the time to press play on just yet.

So, a bucket of popcorn and some mild trauma later, I could finally join in the conversation about The Babadook.

6 years too late.

Nevertheless! Once I’d emotionally recovered, I finally had my Sex And The City moment. No, not the ones with feminism that would make Emilline Pankhurst perform the equivalent of a Viennese Waltz in her grave - the one where Carrie sits in her NYC apartment and thinks about men at her computer.

“I couldn’t help but wonder: could the Babadook be based on a true story? ”

Unfortunately, I discovered that the Babadook is based on the concept of the boogeyman, an urban legend that has a greater global reach than Covid-19. 

So, to distract you from the global pandemic with the threat of a creature lurking under your bed and waiting to snatch an ankle, I thought I’d let you in on the reality behind this queer icon.

First, let’s talk ‘bout The Babadook.

It was one of the biggest hits of the 2010s, combining the classic trope of creepy children with the classic colour palette of depression. Our story follows a single mother and her son who begins to be visited by an imaginary creature fresh from the pages of a children’s book.

With spiky talon-like hands, a cloaked figure, a jaw crammed full of teeth, a face paler than that time you bought that foundation on a whim in TK Maxx - all crowned with a dusty hat - the Babadook the child was seeing certainly had a sense of style.

The child, Sam, begins to create intricate traps and weapons designed to stop the Babadook, all the while the book predicts the mother’s rather dark future. It becomes clear that the Bababook is preying on the mother and essentially possessing her, a diagnosis that is confirmed when the mother attempts to kill Sam.

She then regurgitates a black inky substance evocative of ectoplasm, and is released from its grip. 

The film ends on the happy family feeding the Babadook as it lives in their basement.

This indie horror - once it had finished polishing the 5 awards on it’s mantelpiece - might have woven a intricate plot deviating from the simple basis of international man of mystery James Bond The Boogeyman, but the basis still sticks out more than that wardrobe in the corner of your bedroom you’re now highly conscious of.

Simply put, the Babadook matches the basic concept of the boogeyman:

There’s some weird, dark creature that knicks kids and eats ‘em if they wander alone or don’t go to bed or misbehave. Just like Krampus, the bogeyman is a legend propagated by parents to convince kids to stay in line.

That being said, the mythical creature isn’t the only inspo behind this cinema-hit.

Specifically, the brains behind the film, Jennifer Kent, claimed it was about a deep-rooted fear we all have: that of going mad. On top of this, it seeks to show parenting from a real perspective.

The film focuses on a single mother as she faces one of the most difficult challenges in life: she loses her husband whilst going to give birth to her son, and then has to raise him alone. But that is not all.

Kent also spoke of a real encounter with the bogeyman. 

Basics, her bestie’s son was being plagued by an imaginary monster, so she pretended to talk to it to calm his concerns. Sure, this tale might not have kickstarted the real terror engaged with in this movie, but it invited us into the reality behind the bogeyman.

But beyond this, the movie also detracts from the Babadook, and instead looks for the primal instincts in the mother - it looks for the bogeyman within us all.

That’s right - the real horror that was inside us all along.

Yawn.

But the thing is, it also brings up hell of a lot of paranormal activity that is remarkably accurate to theories of the supernatural.

      Let’s start with the introduction of the Babadook.

He arrives in the form of a creepy children’s book no one’s seen or heard of. Armed with a chilling nursery rhyme and an aesthetic last seen in 2007, the Babadook follows the basic principles of a basic haunting: ghost does spooky stuff, ghost spooks humans, humans invite it in following the consent laws of the universe by interacting with it, ghost spooky powers intensify.

This begins with the book itself. Although the film doesn’t consider if he is a paranormal being aligning with the concept of demons and spirits (etc.), this book follows the concept of haunted objects.

By opening the book and reading it - or, interacting with it - they invite in the Babadook. And when she tries to destroy it, it crops up again, fully intact and conveniently lying on her doorstep.

No ‘sorry we missed you card’ needed.

This closely follows the theory of the haunted object, something more on-trend than tutting at empty shelves in the grocery store. Haunted objects have a habit of failing to be destroyed, and by engaging with them, such as not asking permission for taking a picture of a haunted doll, you enter communication with them.

From there, you’ve basically consented to a full possession. The object is a vessel for a spirit or a demon until a new, better, breathing vessel can be found.

You can find out more about this here.

I can’t find anything about haunted books specifically online, but as a variety of haunted objects exist, from bunk beds to boxes, I’m sure there’s potential for it.

     Next is the eventual possession of the mother.

One of the most dramatic moments we witness is when the mother coughs up this black bile which represents the removal of the Babadook. This bears a striking resemblance to ectoplasm, a white liquid often released by those experiencing intense paranormal activity.

When mediums experience a trance-like state, they supposedly release a fabric-like or thick substance that darkens as physic energy is intensified. It allows those in the supernatural realm to interact with the physical realm, and for spirits to represent themselves to the audience of a seance.

This film was one of the first to explore the potential paranormal explanations behind the bogeyman, and give some basis to a beast that has haunted communities since the beginning of time.

Speaking of the beast…

Who is the bogeyman?

It’s sometime in the 1500s.

We are in the middle of a small country called England, struggling to make ends meet between the near constant famine, the anxiety of being cursed by a witch, or some war with [insert european nation that may or may not exist anymore].

Either way, when we aren’t trying to spell everything with an ‘e’ at the end, we are being taunted by hobgoblins.

These pesky beasts made their name in tormenting Englishmen, playing pranks on them or simply just being foul.

Hobgoblins are the OG bogeymen, or are the first we can trace back to recorded sources. But they were no means the last. And they were by no means the only ones in the world.

As a simple definition, the bogeyman is a mythical creature that makes sure kids are staying in line, and was made up by parents. The thing is, the bogeyman features in every culture that has ever been created.

And given the realm of the paranormal explored so far on this blog, perhaps your local Babadook isn’t so out of the question.

The bogeyman has always claimed a rather vague existence, representing a non-specific terror that has even extended to just ‘being the devil’ in some cases. The origins of the name are no different: ‘bogge’ comes from middle english, meaning ‘something frightening’ or ‘scarecrow’.

It has even been interpreted to mean ‘goat’ which can be traced to relations to the devil.

Appearance wise, the bogeyman has several broad features that stretch across cultures. Standard features include sharp teeth, talon or claw-like hands, hooves for feet, and even bug-like features. The Babadook might have shared in a few of these #basic-bogeyman traits, but it’s not all about looks.

How does his personality fair?

The bogeyman can pick between three personality types: something that punishes misbehaving children; one that is just violent for the hell of it which includes stealing kids, and eating them and/or taking them back to hell; or one that protects the innocent.

“So what you’re saying is, this is a vague looking creature with a vague personality with vague ambitions that is made up by parents who are tired of their kids interrupting their vague post-marital sex?”

Okay, fine, the bogeyman bears little resemblance to the basic concept of the bogeyman. But this is what makes him the international man of mystery. It’s the regional divergences between each nation’s own Babadook that makes this creature quite so peculiar.

You see, I assumed the bogeyman would be a universal concept draped in more black clothes than a kid that was in the throes of that scene where Edward leaves Bella. 

Turns out that there’s actually a band of bogeymen which can be specified by their not-so-casual racism and genitalia.

But as the 195 countries dotted across the globe have fostered their own child-eating monster, I thought I’d cut to the chase and fill you in on the world’s weirdest bogeymen.

*Rolls up sleeves of Team Edward hoodie*

     The Sack Man

Making his cinematic debut in The Nightmare Before Christmas, the Sack Man is the international symbol for the bogeyman. Whether he himself is draped in sack-like materials, or is lugging one around with him, Hombre Del Saco uses his luggage to capture and carry naughty children away to, uh, somewhere.

Most popular in Latin countries and Eastern Europe, the Sack Man is the most well travelled bogeyman on this list.

     Babaroga

The original inspiration behind the Babadook - note the similar name - Babaroga is a resident of Serbia and its neighbouring countries. However, the mood board for the Babadook’s inspiration stopped there.

Babaroga literally translates to “old woman with horns”.

And this pensioner spends her time finding children, putting them in a sack (how original), bringing them to her cave, and eating them. Or, to shake things up, she pulls childrens through small holes in the ceiling.

     El Coco

When he’s not featuring in lovable Disney hits, El Coco is snatching kids that don’t get to sleep when they should. With nursery rhymes detailing the legend - a chilling similarity to the Babadook - spanish-language countries across the globe are versed in reportedly seeing a coconut-like face hiding under their beds.

With a brown hairy face and body, and glowing red eyes to match, this famous humanoid might be closer than you think.

“Que viene el Coco y te comerá” 

 - A line from the traditional Spanish nursery rhyme.

     The Mamma

Pakistan gets its fair share of attention on the news cycle, but aside from the war going on, no one has ever noted the rather peculiar beast haunting the nation’s young women.

The Mamma isn’t the mothering being the name suggests, but is a large ape that lives in the mountains and only comes to the civilised world when in need of a young girl. Once he’s kidnapped ‘em and taken ‘em back to his cave, he licks their hands and feet so they can’t escape.

I have a strong feeling that what happens next to these innocent women isn’t as silly as someone licking your feet.

     La Tulievieja

Bringing together the award-winning aesthetic of The Ring and the naseau-inducing aesthetic of Cats, La Tulievieja is Panama’s warning for naughty children. Legend has it she is a spirit cursed by God for drowning her child.

The thing is, God’s curse was, uh, confused. Her monstrous form consists of acne scarring, long hair, claws for hands, a cat’s body and a farmyard animal’s hooved feet. On top of that, she also looks like the child she drowned.

Yep, confused.

     The Jersey Devil

Most countries suffer from multiple bogeymen - here in the UK, for example, we have 12 varieties - and America is no different. The Jersey Devil is actually one of 4 variants, and, like La Tulievieja, is also confused.

Fresh from the jaws of New Jersey, this beast has a horse’s head, bat wings, hooves, and a snake’s tail. First spotted in the 18th century and then again in 1909, it is believed that this legend was actually manufactured as a real estate hoax to coax residents into lowering their selling prices.

You might be able to deny the existence of this beast, but the Cipelahq (a large owl), the Long Black Being that makes a habit of slithering round like a snake, and Bloody Bones (a dancing skeleton and a separate skull) have yet to be disproven.

     The Copperpenis Owl

Hungary has 3 different bogeyman, and most fit the description of the international beast: there’s one with a sack, there’s one which is just a-bit-beasty, and then there’s the giant owl with a penis made of copper.

I personally feel a Babadook with rose gold genitalia circa 2013 might have detracted from the overall feel of the film.

     Ijiraq and the Qalupalik

Iniut communities also follow beliefs in the bogeyman, and probably focus on them more than others because if you wander off in the Arctic you will either get mauled by a bear and die, or freeze.

And then you’ll die.

They actually have 2 resident bogeymen. There’s the Ijiraq, a shapeshifter that kidnaps kids. You know, pretty basic bitch stuff. And then there’s the Qalupalik who is slightly more spooky.

This is a mermaid laden with green skin, long fingernails, and ratty hair that carry babies away in amauti (pouches or sacks for carrying kids) and bring them to live in their underwater world.

     Butzemann

Remember when I mentioned that thing about casual racism? It’s a bit of grey area, ironically.

Germany’s very own bogeyman is known as The Black Man.

(You can see my point.)

That being said, this probably doesn’t actually refer to the colour of his skin as most Germans during the Middle Ages hadn’t actually seen anyone from the African continent. Instead, his outdated nickname was actually down to his preference for dark corners.

The closet, under the bed, in forests during the early hours... If it’s spooky, you’ll find him here.

     Babau

Germany isn’t the only country with politically incorrect bogeyman. Italy has its very own Black Man, a mysterious figure which often features as a black man (gasp) or a black ghost. Only this entity has no legs.

The Marabbecca on the other hand is specific to Sicily, and mirrors the mythology of the Inuits.

Don’t play too close to the water, kids, or a Marabbecca will swim up and drag you to your watery grave!

     The Kropeman

Our final iconic bogeyman isn’t like the other girls, even if his fellow Luxembourgian monsters are. There’s yet another Black Man, and there’s something about an uncle, but it's the Kropeman which has me sleeping with the lights on.

Under the streets of this small country roams a man with a long hook.

When he’s not busy dodging rats in the sewers, he’s grabbing kids by their nose via the hook, and dragging ‘em down into the storm drains.

So - which one is hiding in your closet?

(Aside from the queerness your inner 14 year old hasn’t fully unleashed yet like a big bisexual dragon spewing flames of gender-neutralness.)

(Don’t worry, I’m fine.)

Are you a whore for horror? Passionate about the paranormal? Do you want to see a new real ghost story every day? Then you have to follow this blog.

Read this post next!

[lastbluetardis]

Family of Six (6/14)

After James and Rose bring their newborn twins home, they work to find a balance between all four of their children, and each other. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU.

This chapter: Teen, 6200 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 33, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: (almost) 6, Twins: 3 weeks

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

Next update: September 10th 

AO3 | TSP | FF | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14

Later that night, after he had fallen into a fitful sleep, James stirred at a quiet voice calling his name and a small hand shaking his arm.

“Daddy?”

He grunted and opened his eyes, blinking against the darkness until Sianin’s face came into focus. His foggy brain immediately cleared. “Yes, darling?”

“Can I sleep with you and Mummy?” she whispered.

“The twins are in here,” he said.

“Oh.”

Her eyes glistened with tears and he cursed himself for his phrasing.

“I merely meant that you might hear them crying throughout the night. I know that sometimes bothers you. But you can still sleep here if you want. C’mere.” He patted the edge of the mattress. “Want to be sandwiched between me and Mummy?”

“Uh huh.” Sianin clambered onto the bed, then crawled over him until she was at the center of the mattress.

Her movements woke Rose, who turned towards them.

“Sianin?” she asked sleepily, squinting.

“Daddy said I could sleep in here.”

“‘Course you can. Is everything all right, sweetheart?”

James tucked the blankets under Sianin’s chin, then he slid his pillow closer to the middle of the bed for her. He brushed her silky hair away from her face, then continued to stroke it just because he could. After her disastrous bedtime a few hours earlier, he wasn’t going to question why his daughter wanted to be with him and Rose.

The room was silent for a few long seconds, and right when he was certain Sianin wasn’t going to answer her mother’s question, she asked, “Do you still love me like you used to?”

His hand froze mid-stroke. The question shattered his heart into a million pieces, the shrapnel shredding through his stomach and chest until his whole body ached with despair and devastation.

She can’t possible think… 

His head swam as he and Rose moved at the same time to pull their daughter into their arms, resulting in a tangle of limbs as they squished Sianin between them.

“Of course we still love you, darling,” he rasped, trying to resist the impulse to yank Sianin out of Rose’s arms so he could give her a proper hug. “We never stopped. Never.”

At the same time, Rose said, “We love you so, so much Sianin. So much.”

Sianin sniffled in the dark and turned into Rose’s chest, clinging to her mother. James tried not to be offended.

“Daddy and I love you so very incredibly much,” Rose murmured into Sianin’s hair. “I can’t begin to tell you how much we love you. The feeling is too great to be put into words. There is no five-year-old on the planet more loved than you are by us.”

“Why did you want new babies then?” she asked, her voice muffled by Rose’s chest. “Were Ainsley and me not good enough?”

“That’s not it at all, Sianin,” James said, wanting to pull her into his arms and squeeze her tightly. He thought that if he could only hold her close enough, she’d be able to feel the very beating of his heart and realize that it beat for her. “Just because Mummy and I had more babies doesn’t mean we were in any way dissatisfied with you or Ainsley. Far, far from it. We love you and Ainsley more than anything in the universe. Nobody could ever replace either of you in our lives.”

“But the babies…”

“They’re not a replacement. They’re an addition.”

Sianin continued sniffling into Rose’s shirt. James was helpless to do anything; Rose had folded Sianin so completely into herself that he couldn’t easily touch any part of his daughter. He settled for resting his hand on her arm and rubbing it with his thumb.

“I’m so sorry you thought you were being replaced,” he whispered. He wondered how long she’d thought that. Was it a more recent feeling? Since they’d brought the twins home? Or had it been ever since they’d announced Rose’s pregnancy? He prayed she hadn’t felt like this for the last seven months. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I want things to be like they were before,” Sianin whimpered. James envied Rose and the way their daughter burrowed into her for comfort.

“I know,” Rose said, rocking her gently. “But we can’t go back to that. We need to try to move forward as best we can. It’s all right to be sad for what you lost; you knew one way of life and that’s gone now. And it’s absolutely okay to be sad about that.”

Sianin cried harder into Rose’s chest, and James wanted to snap to Rose that she wasn’t helping. But he stayed quiet; the last thing they needed was to start an argument in front of their distraught child. And maybe it was best if Sianin cried it out, long and hard, even if it killed him to watch.

When Sianin’s sobs dissipated, Rose said, “It’s okay to take as long as you need to be sad and to adjust to the new phase of our family. But try not to only see the negatives, yeah? That’s not a healthy way to look at the world. Hannah and Maddie are a permanent part of our family, and being upset or angry won’t change that.”

Sianin gulped down several lungfuls of air and sniffled thickly. “The babies aren’t what you said they’d be.”

James reached behind him for a handful of tissues, which he passed to Rose.

“How so?” Rose asked, wiping Sianin’s eyes and nose.

“Everyone said they’d be fun. That they’d be friends I could play with. But they’re not.”

“It will take a bit of time to play with them the way you want to,” Rose said.

“You should’ve said that.”

“You’re right. We’re sorry,” Rose said, kissing the top of Sianin’s head. “What should we have said instead? Hmm… that they’d come out looking like pink-faced dough blobs? And are about as squishy as a dough blob, too?”

Sianin giggled a bit. It was a thin, watery sound, but it was a giggle nonetheless.

“Or… they’d be loud little poo machines?” Rose mused.

Sianin giggled again. She was quiet for a moment, then she asked, “Does Ainsley still love me like before?”

“Of course she does,” Rose said.

“She spends lots of time with the babies now,” Sianin said sadly.

“I know. She likes helping with them and playing with them.”

“But they don’t play,” Sianin argued.

“They can be interacted with,” Rose said. “Now that Maddie is smiling, it’s more fun to be with her. Hannah will get there, too. Maybe you can join in with Ainsley when she plays with the twins?”

Sianin didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, “Can I stay in here all night?”

“For as long as you’d like,” Rose said, kissing her daughter’s forehead. She then caught James’s eye and murmured to Sianin, “Can you go give Daddy a good cuddle? I have to wee.”

Sianin rolled over and crashed into James’s chest. He didn’t know whether Rose actually needed the toilet or if she was just letting him have a turn at holding their daughter, but he appreciated it nevertheless. He had to stop himself from squeezing Sianin as hard as he wanted to, and instead clutched her to his chest and pivoted so he was on his back and her head was pillowed in the crook of his shoulder. She wrapped an arm around his middle and draped a leg over his thigh, hugging him tight.

“I love you,” he whispered into Sianin’s hair, kissing the top of her head. “I love you more than you’ll ever know, Sianin.”

“Love you, too,” she said, tangling her fists into his sleep shirt. “Will you tell me a story?”

“Absolutely,” he said. He bought himself a few seconds to think as he fussed with the sheets, tucking her in. When they were settled, he began to speak. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little princess named Shannon…”

“That’s almost like my name.”

“Shush, it’s Shannon, not Sianin.”

Sianin laughed and nestled further into his arms. He couldn’t resist kissing the top of her head again.

“Anyways, once upon a time, there was a beautiful little princess named Shannon who was beloved by her entire kingdom, but by none more than her parents. Princess Shannon loved doing everything by herself, because she was a big girl princess. And she loved helping to clean the castle—she helped the maids with the washing up, she helped the butler prepare meals, she helped the stable boys take care of the horses.”

“Sounds like a lot of work being a princess,” Sianin mumbled, burrowing her face into his chest.

“She enjoyed the chores.”

“No one enjoys chores, Daddy,” Sianin rebutted.

“Princess Shannon did,” James argued. “D’you want to hear the rest of the story or not?”

“I guess,” she said through a yawn.

“Princess Shannon was such a big helper around the castle, but her parents didn’t realize all she did because they were so used to the chores simply being done. Well, Princess Shannon felt very sad about this because her parents didn’t seem to recognize anything she did. So she decided she was never going to leave her room ever again.

“However, when she did that, the castle started falling apart. And not just ‘cos she wasn’t helping with the cleaning. But because the magic of the castle was…”

“The castle’s magic?”

“Yep. The magic of the castle was tied to the magic within Princess Shannon. And because Princess Shannon felt sad and lonely, the castle reflected that. It turned dark and rainy; all the trees lost their leaves as though it were wintertime instead of the height of summer. The windows weren’t sparkly anymore, and the golden halls and gem-encrusted thrones were dull, tarnished, and cracked.

“The king and queen thought a powerful curse had been set over the castle, and they were so worried about their Princess Shannon. When they got to Princess Shannon’s room, they saw that the door had turned to solid iron and nobody could get in.

“Princess Shannon didn’t even realize what was happening to the castle since she’d been in her room the whole time. Her magic and the castle’s magic managed to slow the passage of time. Time was moving slower inside her bedroom than it was in the rest of the castle. So while only a few hours passed for Princess Shannon, a few days had passed for her mummy and daddy.

“She couldn’t hear her mummy and daddy calling for her, nor could she hear any of the locksmiths’ attempts to break down the door. After a while, Princess Shannon decided she didn’t want to be alone in her room anymore. So she stood up, pushed open the door, and saw her mummy and her daddy in the corridor. They’d been beside themselves with worry and were so happy to see her and so relieved that she was safe. Queen Mummy plucked Princess Shannon up into her arms, then King Daddy plucked up his queen and his princess into his arms.”

“King Daddy must be very strong,” Sianin commented.

“The strongest,” James agreed. “The king and queen apologized to their princess, and promised never to take her for granted ever again. They joined the princess as she helped around the castle because they realized the castle looked its best when everyone helps out. And they liked spending all that extra time with their beautiful little princess, too.”

“What kind of magic powers did Princess Shannon have?” Sianin asked, her voice thick with impending sleep.

“That’ll be tomorrow’s bedtime story,” James replied, already apologizing to his future self. “Get some sleep now, darling.”

Sianin splayed out all of her limbs and somehow managed to take up nearly every inch of their king-sized bed.

Rose had returned from the loo a while ago but was sitting in the rocking chair in the corner, nursing the twins.

“A princess who enjoys doing chores, eh?” Rose teased when she was certain Sianin was asleep.

“Figured it was worth a try,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her. “Are you okay over there? Need a hand?”

“Nah, you’ve got your hands full. I thought I’d feed them before they woke up. Maybe we’ll get a few uninterrupted hours,” Rose answered. 

James hummed, then turned back to Sianin. She looked peaceful; all traces of her prior anguish were gone. He brushed his fingers through her hair as he watched her sleep. His heart ached with love for his child, and with sorrow that she’d doubted how loved she was.

“You okay?” Rose asked quietly.

“Not really,” he admitted.

“Me either,” she said.

She stood with the twins and put them in their bassinets before slipping into bed, carefully scooting Sianin to the middle of the mattress.

“She’ll be okay,” Rose said, but it sounded as though she were convincing herself rather than stating a fact.

“Yeah, she will be,” James said, kissing Sianin’s soft hair.

The night went as well as could be expected. The twins woke up every couple of hours, wanting to be changed or fed. Sianin woke to their crying each time, burying her face into James’s chest and whining that they were being loud.

“They’ll quiet down soon,” James soothed. “Close your eyes and sleep, darling.”

Since he was busy trying to get Sianin back to sleep, Rose was left to attend to the twins by herself. James felt guilty every time Rose slipped out of bed; he’d find some way to make it up to her.

Sianin’s mood returned to normal the next morning; she went about her day as though nothing in the world was wrong. It might have helped that it was her actual birthday, too. 

As per usual, the family went out for dinner at a restaurant of Sianin’s choosing. Of course she picked a fast-food chain, but she was ecstatic about it, and that was all James and Rose cared about.

The only sign she wasn’t quite okay was her new habit of sleeping with them. They would put her to sleep in her own bed, but inevitably, she would always venture into their room in the middle of the night. She also began struggling with wetting the bed—that was often the impetus for her wandering into their room.

Sianin was mortified and upset by her nighttime accidents, even though James and Rose assured her many times over that it was okay and they weren’t angry or upset with her. But they’d taken to putting a protective plastic covering on Sianin’s bed to help keep the mess from saturating into her mattress. Thankfully, she’d never wet their bed when she slept with them.

Because of their new bedmate, the amount of restful sleep James and Rose obtained decreased exponentially; not only because they would get up to take care of Sianin’s bedding, if needed, but also because they were hyper-aware of the small body beside them, and were concerned whether their child was comfortable. Not to mention Sianin tended to sleep at odd angles which pushed them to the far edges of the mattress. 

The additional loss of sleep was a sore hit when they were already losing sleep due to nighttime newborn care, but it never crossed their minds to refuse Sianin entry into bed with them.

“Do you think something’s really wrong?” James asked the weekend after Sianin’s birthday as he once more put Sianin’s soiled bedsheets into the washer.

“I don’t know,” Rose sighed. “I’ve been reading these parenting blogs and everyone says it’s normal for kids to regress a little bit after the birth of a new baby.”

“It breaks my heart.”

“Mine too. I don’t know if we can do anything though. If we kick her out of our room, we might make her worse.” Rose shook her head. “Maybe our girls’ day out will be good for her.”

“I’m sure it will. It’ll be good for you, if nothing else. You haven’t had much time to spend out with just Ainsley and Sianin.”

“Neither have you,” Rose countered. “You’ll have to schedule a daddy-daughter day with them soon.”

Rose and their eldest children had haircut appointments later in the morning, then manicures in the early afternoon.

That left James to spend a bit of quality time with the twins. He spent the morning tidying the house while the babies slept, and when they woke up, he got them fed and changed before bundling them up for their very first trip to the supermarket.

“Daddy is gonna show you two all the ins and outs of grocery shopping,” James said as he hefted the dual-baby carrier into a trolley. He fussed with it for a moment to make sure it was secure.

“The key is to have a list,” he continued, pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket and wiggling it in front of his sleeping babies’ faces. “Because if you don’t, you’ll end up buying things you don’t need and forgetting everything you do need. You also should never go when you’re hungry; you’ll buy out the entire store and your bank account will be quite sad. Vice versa, you shouldn’t go when you’ve just eaten a huge meal and are stuffed; you’ll not want to buy anything and you’ll have an empty fridge in two days’ time.”

James checked his list, then began heading through the aisles with a purpose.

“It’s also a good idea to get the not-cold foodstuffs first,” he explained, picking up a box of oatmeal and cereal. “You don’t want the ice cream to melt whilst you’re doing the rest of your shopping.”

He continued to talk mindlessly at his babies throughout the shopping trip. He was interrupted several times by other people cooing down at the twins. He was always glad to show off his beautiful children, but he didn’t want to prolong their trip and risk one of them waking up cranky.

He was finally getting to the cold section when Hannah woke up.

“Hello, my sweet girl,” he said down to her. She was blinking groggily up at him as though she had no idea where she was or who she was with. He recognized that look and began unfastening her restraints a second before her face crumpled and she let out a distressed wail. Maddie stayed blessedly asleep.

“You’re okay.” He brought the baby to his chest and brushed kisses to her scalp. “You’re okay, my Hannah-banana. Ooh, bananas. Gotta get some of those now that your mummy isn’t getting sick from the smell of them. We’re at the supermarket. It’s where we buy food, because the rest of the Earthly population doesn’t have Mummy’s breasts to feed them. Er. That came out weird. But you have no idea what I’m even saying, do you?”

Hannah continued crying into his chest. He unbuttoned the bottom of her onesie, but her nappy was still dry and a quick sniff test told him she hadn’t pooed. She shouldn’t be hungry, as he had fed her right before they left the house. But she was utterly inconsolable; her little face was red and actual tears were leaking down her cheeks. The sight of them twisted something deep in his heart.

“Oh, darling.” He rocked his torso in an attempt to soothe her. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re almost done here. I’ll bet you’re a tad overwhelmed, eh? You went to sleep safe and sound in Mummy’s arms, and now you’re in a whole new scary place. But Daddy’s right here. Daddy’s got you. We’re in the supermarket getting a bit of food for our Mother’s Day cookout tomorrow. Daddy’s got everything on his list except the eggs and the milk. Bear with Daddy for five more minutes and we’ll go home, my darling girl.”

James fumbled to keep his grip on his furious baby while he pushed the trolley towards the refrigerated section. He grabbed a jug of milk at random, pausing long enough to check that it hadn’t passed its expiration date. Then he went to the eggs, picking up the first carton his fingers touched without checking if any were cracked. At this point, a couple of cracked eggs would be worth getting out of the supermarket as quickly as possible.

He made his way to the self-checkout and blessedly found one that was open.

“Almost done,” he whispered, nuzzling his baby’s wispy hair. “Daddy is trying his very, very best. I know you’re not happy, Han. I know. It’s so hard being you, isn’t it? The world is so big and scary, and you’re stuck with your old dad instead of Mummy. We’ll get home soon, my love. Can’t you please calm down, eh? Please?”

His ears were beginning to hurt from having a screaming baby right next to them.

“She might be wet.”

James continued scanning his groceries until a hand touched his arm. He glanced over and saw an upper-middle-aged woman smiling sympathetically at him.

“I said, she might be wet,” the woman repeated, nodding to Hannah. “You should check her nappy. They need changing every few hours.”

James blinked.

“I know,” he said slowly, frowning at the woman. “I’ve already checked that, but thanks.”

James loaded his bagged items into his trolley, and the woman followed.

“You’re not holding her right,” the woman said. “You should try cradling her up against your chest with her legs and arms tucked up into her body. Babies that young usually like that position. Here, let me show you. I know it can be hard for some dads to get the hang of it. My husband was a bit useless, honestly.”

The woman laughed like there was some joke that James wasn’t privy to, then she extended her hands towards the baby.

“Excuse me, don’t touch my daughter,” James growled, pivoting so that his body was between this stranger and Hannah. His sharp movement made Hannah let out a shriek, and by now, he wanted to join her.

“I’m only trying to help,” the woman said, looking startled.

“I’m sure you meant well and all,” James snapped, “but she is my daughter. I can handle my own child, thanks very much. Just because your husband was bloody rubbish when it came to child care doesn’t mean all men are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get her home.”

James turned his back to the wide-eyed woman and ignored her spluttered apologies and indignations. He paid for the groceries as quickly as he could, suddenly all too aware of the eyes on him. It seemed that everyone in the store was looking at him either with pity or annoyance.

“It’s not like I’m asking her to scream her little head off,” James grumbled under his breath, pushing the trolley out to his car. His hands shook as he settled Hannah and Maddie into their car seats. Maddie was now awake and looking as though she was contemplating crying as well. “Oh, please, Maddie, shush. You’re fine, darling. Your sister is having a bad day, but you’re okay. Right? Yes? My sweet, quiet girl?”

“It’s rubbish gettin’ stuck babysittin’ one, and ‘ere you’ve got two? Rotten luck, mate.”

James turned and saw a man helping a toddler out of a car.

“Good luck with ‘em,” the man said, giving him a salute.

“It’s not babysitting when they’re your own kids,” James hissed even though the man had walked away and couldn’t hear him. “Bloody fucking hell.” He cringed. “Oops, I’m sorry, girls. Daddy shouldn’t use that language. Though you’re only a month old and have no idea what I’m saying. But still. It’s bad practice. That man and the lady in the shop really got under my skin, you see. Daddy’s really frustrated right now.”

James sucked in a deep breath and held it for a minute, listening to his crying child and feeling as though he could start sobbing any minute now too. He shut the car door, muffling the sounds of Hannah’s distress as he loaded the groceries into the boot.

The drive home was torture. Both babies were wailing at the tops of their lungs, giving James a splitting headache.

“’Course you choose now to realize you can scream too,” James snapped bitterly to Maddie, glaring at her through the rear mirror. As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt terrible. He shouldn’t get angry with his children.

His cheeks flamed with shame, and he mumbled, “Sorry, Maddie. I’m sorry. That was wrong of me to say. I’m so sorry you’re in distress too.”

Nothing seemed to soothe his babies, no matter what he said or how gently he spoke. He made a great effort to keep his voice calm and low, yet still they wailed.

Eventually, about two minutes from home, Maddie quieted down again, but Hannah was still going strong. He kept her in her car seat as he ferried the groceries into the house. He unloaded all of the cold items into the fridge and freezer, but left the room-temperature things for later.

He then came out and fetched Maddie from her car seat. She gave him a bright smile as he unfastened all of her straps, and he couldn’t help but smile back, despite Hannah screaming in the next seat.

“I love you loads, Maddie,” he murmured to her as he took her into his arms.

He settled her into the cot in the living room, then went out for his other baby. He tried not to feel like a horrible father at the dread that unfurled through him at the idea of bringing Hannah into the quiet house.

“You can’t leave your baby in the car,” he muttered to himself. “You can’t leave your baby in the car. You can’t leave your baby in the car. You can’t leave your baby in the car…”

He continued the pep talk as he opened the car door and pulled Hannah out of her seat. He tried to support her head and neck even though all she evidently wanted to do was wriggle madly from side to side.

“Hannah, please,” he begged, his frustration nearly choking him. “Please, sweetheart, I don’t know what’s wrong. Daddy has no idea what you want. Are you hungry? You shouldn’t be, but let’s try some milk, eh?”

He hurriedly warmed up a bottle, then spent the next fifteen minutes coaxing Hannah into trying to nurse. She suckled on and off, but only got through a third of the bottle before refusing to take any more.

“What’s wrong, Han?” he whispered, walking all around the house with his wailing baby. “What’s the matter? You’re not hungry. Your nappy is clean. Are you ill? Are you not feeling well? Is maybe your little tummy hurting? ‘Cos I’ve got to admit, I’m at a loss. I don’t know what else to do for you, sweetheart. I’m trying so hard.”

James continued walking and talking, wishing that Rose was there with him and resenting that she wasn’t. As soon as he thought that, he was consumed with crippling guilt and remorse. Rose deserved to have a day out with their other two children, and Ainsley and Sianin deserved a day alone with their mum. There was no reason he shouldn’t be able to handle his own babies.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said again through the lump in his throat, making yet another circuit through the house.

It took nearly an hour before Hannah cried herself out. At that point, James himself was in the middle of a crying episode. He had set Hannah on a blanket he’d laid out on the living room floor as he succumbed to his anger and frustration. Unable to deal with his crying child for a moment longer, he shut himself into his and Rose’s bedroom—the door barely muffled Hannah’s shrieks—just as his own tears started. He collapsed onto his bed and smothered his cries and curses into his pillow as he pleaded with the universe for his baby to go to sleep.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been before he realized the house was silent. His ears rang in the silence, and he was so, so tempted to stay in his bedroom and fall asleep. But he dragged himself up and into the living room to make sure Hannah hadn’t somehow suffocated herself and that was the reason she was being quiet. But no, she was still alive and breathing, fast asleep with tears and snot streaked across her face. He didn’t dare wipe it away for fear that it would wake her again. Instead, he held his breath and draped a blanket over his child. She stayed asleep.

Maddie was contentedly sleeping in her own bassinet, looking positively angelic in comparison to the hell Hannah had put him through over the last hour and a half. 

James swiped at his own runny nose and swollen eyes as he collapsed in an exhausted heap on the couch, overstimulated and overwhelmed, with a pounding headache pulsing behind his eyes.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next he knew, the front door was being wrenched open and the pattering of tiny feet entered the house.

“Hi Daddy!”

Sianin and Ainsley made a beeline for him, and he shook off the vestiges of sleep to admire their new haircuts—they’d each gotten about an inch lopped off—and their perfectly painted nails.

“You are the most beautiful girls in the entire universe!” he proclaimed, giving them each a smacking kiss on the cheek. “You’re making me feel like an ugly old toad.”

“You’re the handsomest Daddy in the whole wide universe,” Sianin said with a definitive nod.

That declaration erased a fraction of his former bad mood. He leaned forward and scooped her into his arms, hugging her tight.

“Thanks, Sian,” he said, giving her another kiss before releasing her.

“Took a kip instead of putting away the groceries?”

James looked over at Rose. Her tone was teasing, but it sparked his irritation nevertheless.

“Got a bit worn out when Hannah went on a marathon cry,” he said thinly.

Rose’s brows furrowed.

“She didn’t like her first trip to the supermarket,” he said, rubbing his fingers into his tired eyes.

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m a bit knackered.”

Rose stepped up behind him and rubbed her fingers through his hair. Goosebumps broke out across his scalp, making him moan and melt back against the couch.

“Can you do this for the next century?” he mumbled, letting his eyes slip shut.

“I’ll do this ‘til a child interrupts us,” Rose said instead.

“Good enough.” He hummed as she continued her massage. She knew the places to apply pressure, and he could have wept with the relief her fingers brought. Within ten minutes, she’d unknotted most of his tense muscles and had put a dent in his headache.

“I love you,” she whispered in his ear before she kissed his temple.

“Mmm.”

“Sorry Hannah was bad for you. How was Mads?”

“Perfect,” he replied. “Got a bit worked up on the car ride home, but soothed herself to sleep again. Hannah, on the other hand, decided to cry into my ear for at least an hour after we got home.”

Rose made a sound of sympathy as she began her massage anew.

“Did you have a nice day?” he asked.

“Yeah, I did. Though I feel a bit guilty about that now.”

He reached up and fumbled for her hand. He tilted his head back and forced open his eyes. “Don’t. I’m glad you had a good day.”

She pecked a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Are you hungry?” Rose asked.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Just after four.”

He jolted upright. “Four?! Shit. The twins haven’t eaten since this morning. Shit!”

“I’ll get them,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Relax. It’s okay.”

“I’ve bloody starved them,” he grumbled.

“They would’ve let you know if you did that,” Rose said gently.

She pressed another kiss to his forehead, then came around to gather the twins.

“Get Maddie to latch first,” he said anxiously. “I gave Hannah a little bit from a bottle during her meltdown, but Mads hasn’t had anything all day.”

Rose nodded in acknowledgement and dutifully picked Maddie up out of her cot. She was awake and flashed a grin at her mother upon being picked up.

“Hello my sweetie,” Rose cooed. Maddie nuzzled into Rose’s chest, rooting for her mother’s breast. “I know you’re hungry. You were so good for Daddy today, weren’t you?”

James forced his aching limbs to move off the couch and gather up Hannah. She stayed dead asleep.

Rose sat on the sofa and got Maddie latched, then she accepted Hannah. It took a few tries before Hannah woke up enough to nurse lazily.

“God, that’s better,” Rose groaned. “My boobs were so full.”

James didn’t answer. He just sat down beside her and carefully draped his arm around Rose’s shoulders and rested his head against the top of hers.

“Your hair looks nice,” he commented when he smelled the salon shampoo.

“You didn’t notice a difference, did you?” she asked wryly.

“I did!” he protested. “It’s… shorter.”

“That’s usually the result of a hair cut. Otherwise it’s some sort of witchcraft.” She let him squirm for a second before saying, “I just got a trim. I’ve been thinking of letting it grow out a little? I dunno. Though I do need to get my roots touched up next time.”

James pulled back a fraction and saw that her roots were indeed beginning to darken.

“Why do you dye your hair?” he asked.

Rose shrugged. “Been doin’ it for so long I guess I see myself as a blonde, even if it does come out of a bottle. It’s not nearly as trashy as it was when I was a teen.”

“It wasn’t trashy,” he argued.

“I bought the cheapest bleaching product,” Rose said with a chuckle. “It’s okay. I know it was trashy.”

“I thought you were beautiful, no matter what,” he said, kissing her temple.

“You’re sweet.”

“S’why you married me.”

“Yep, that’s the only reason,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He snorted and tucked his cheek into her hair.

“Did you get your nails done?” he asked.

“Mhm.” She managed to rotate her hand from where it was propping Maddie. Her nails were a lovely shade of pastel green with little white flowers painted in the center.

“Very springy,” he said.

“‘Tis the season and all. I was gonna get our toes done, but I didn’t think the girls would sit well for that. Their feet are a bit too ticklish.”

“Good idea,” James said. He reached out and stroked his fingertips across the planes of Hannah’s face. She was half-asleep as she nursed from Rose’s breast; the constant start-stop rhythm of her feeding created quite a mess of milk around her chin and neck. “She looks like a precious little angel. You never would’ve thought she spent the afternoon deafening the entire country.”

“Sorry she was so bad for you.”

James shook off her apology. “It wouldn’t have been as bad had not this older woman made me feel like an incompetent father.”

Rose frowned. “What happened?”

“Just someone trying to help but not actually helping,” he sighed. “Hannah started her fit in the middle of the supermarket, so I tried to hold her to calm her down. Evidently I looked like I was struggling, ‘cos this lady approached me and tried giving me all this advice, including how I was holding her wrong.”

Rose gasped. “No she didn’t!”

“Indeed she did.”

“What a cun… What an arsehole!”

“I was already feeling a bit self-conscious, and that didn’t help,” James admitted. “I honestly had a bit of a cry earlier. I was overwhelmed.”

“Oh, James.” Rose leaned against him, pressing her cheek into his shoulder in a pseudo-hug. “Don’t mind anyone else. You are the best father a kid could ask for. You definitely do not hold our children wrong, and you are more than capable of handling yourself with our kids. I wouldn’t hesitate to leave you alone with all four of them.”

“Well, let’s not be hasty,” James said. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to leave you at the mercy of four kids,” Rose amended. “But you know what I mean.”

“I do. And thanks, love.”

“Anytime.”

James looked around the living room, finally aware of how quiet the house was. “We seem to be missing two kids.”

“I think they’re coloring in Ainsley’s room,” Rose said. “Making Mother’s Day cards. Only it’s a surprise, so we’ve got to pretend I don’t know anything.”

“Ahh, ‘course,” he said, nodding. “It’s not like it’s an annual holiday.”

“Nope. I’m in for the surprise of my life tomorrow,” she dead-panned.

James chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

If you’ve made it to the end, consider leaving a comment or reblogging? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

[queenofthemindynasty]

Even If You Say ‘No’ - pt 3

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem!Reader

Summary: {Y/n}, a brilliant, young producer at BigHit Entertainment, tends to be overly self-critical of her work and scarcely gives herself credit when it’s due. Hoseok, A.K.A. J-Hope of BTS, puts so much effort into keeping up the spirits of the other members, he hardly has time to worry about his own well being. What will happen when the two cross paths?

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol Universe

Word Count: 2513

Ever since that night she’d found him practicing after everyone else had gone home, Hoseok had completely transformed. {Y/n} had always thought of him as a confident and fearless individual, but now, he somehow came off as even more so. He seemed worlds more comfortable in his own skin than he had before, and he’d seemed comfortable then. It was like she was finally seeing his genuine, honest self for the first time. It was hard to believe her words, impromptu as they had been, could’ve had such a profound effect on him. She wasn’t about to question it, however. She was just happy to have taken some pressure off of him, at least for a little while.

Since he was working on his mixtape nowadays, which would be coming out in a few months, he asked for her help in producing quite often. It was funny. He could just as easily have asked any of the staff’s other producers for help, but he still chose her. When she asked him about it, he just told her it was because he liked her music, which was questionable. She couldn’t say for sure—it could have just been her wishful thinking and he was really just looking for validation of his ideas—but something was telling her that he was using his mixtape as an excuse to see her. 

In all honesty, she couldn’t have asked for anything more. Originally she probably would have been hesitant to participate in his mixtape. But now that she’d accepted the opportunity, she wouldn’t have given it up even for a whole three months of vacation. As she spent more one-on-one time with him, she got to know him on a more personal level. She’d never been aware of the sheer similarity between their tastes in music. Their shared interests even went beyond just music. It was nice to finally have someone to talk to, and to have been given this chance to know him better was a gift that she was sure she didn’t deserve, let alone the blessing of being able to bask in his radiant smile every day. However, she knew, despite what she hoped, that this relationship probably wouldn’t be overstepping the line of coworkers any time soon. And in reality, it was for the best. Seeing him at work was already more than she could have ever asked for. 

The first time she ran into him after Hope World had dropped, he greeted her with a hug like a tidal wave. He thanked her profusely for everything she’d done to help, and he even got a tad emotional. She did too. It was a fulfilling feeling to have someone appreciate your hard work so genuinely and so deeply, even though it wasn’t top quality. It made her want to work even harder for him and the rest of the group. 

She’d had the original impression that that was going to be it for interactions with him from then on. But since then, Hoseok started talking to her more and more. He even asked to exchange phone numbers with her. He’d started out texting her once every week or two, but after a while, it had become rare not to have a day go by when he didn’t send her something, whether it was about work, something he’d seen on the internet, or just a simple “Hi.” Sometimes his messages would be short and sweet, like, “Heading back to the dorm. See u tomorrow!” and other times it would be something preceding an endless conversation that kept her up late into the night. Those nights, it felt like she was a teenager again, texting with her crush. It was almost as though he weren’t      J-Hope of BTS anymore. 

It was a regular work day in early May, and {Y/n} received a strange request sent by Hoseok while working in her studio. The text read, 

“I was thinking about doing Hope on the Street. Think u could come by the main dance studio today to help me film it? Any time this afternoon works”

As usual, she had quite a bit of last-minute editing and remixing to do. Their next comeback would be in just a little over a month. Anyone else surely would have said “No.” She’d even had a message declining typed out already. 

But her thumb refused to hit “Send.” 

She’d already hesitated too long. It was too late. The idea of spending time with him and simply seeing him in his element was just too tempting to miss out on. So instead of the message she’d already written out, she sent him, 

“Sure! Any time works for me too”

He replied in less time than it took her to put her phone back in her bag. 

“Sweet. Does now sound good?”

She’d hardly had any time to think after she’d texted him before he’d replied. Nevertheless, she answered, 

“Yeah just give me a sec to wrap things up in my studio. I’ll be right over”

“Great! C u soon~”

She tilted her head once to the side and back, the speed of his replies nearly having given her whiplash. Saving her progress on the song she’d been working on and shutting down the studio, she grabbed her bag and headed for the practice room. 

On her way there, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the reasons and implications behind the fact that he asked her to film him. He’d done it himself plenty of times before. Even a few of the other members had been on Hope on the Street in the past. Why couldn’t they film it? Sure, it was possible they were too busy, but so was she. Not to mention, he easily could have asked the numerous professional camera directors who were in the building at that very moment. But she’d gone ahead and given in anyway. She sighed, shaking her head. She hadn’t even needed any convincing. She hadn’t even tried telling him she was busy. She’d just dropped everything to go see him. She could tell him she was busy and go back to her studio right then. She groaned. She couldn’t do that. Not after having told him already that she would come. 

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to the hallway on the fourth floor. She walked into the studio while Hoseok was sitting in a chair off to the side, absorbed in his phone screen as he waited. Once he saw her, he sprang to his feet. “Hey!” he greeted with that all-encompassing grin that just lit up one’s whole world. 

“Hey,” she replied, waving and setting her bag down in the corner of the room. He was wearing shorts and Puma running shoes with a towel bearing the Hope on the Street monogramme slung around his neck. 

“Thanks for coming. You were probably busy working on something, huh?”

That caught her off-guard. What could she say? She couldn’t say ‘yes’; that would make him feel bad. In a flustered state of panic, she quickly spluttered out, “Oh, nah. I was actually just thinking about taking a break.” Great. She never took breaks as far as anyone else knew. That surely had sounded like a blatant lie. 

“Really? That’s good. I was a little worried I’d be interrupting you.” Apparently it hadn’t sounded suspicious to him, thank goodness. “So, shall we get started?” he asked, turning some music on. She nodded. He handed her the phone he’d gotten from one of the staff, which already had the V app opened on it. “Here.” He motioned for her to come to where he was standing: the centre of the side of the room with the big mirror covering the wall. “So first, I’ll wait for a few minutes for Army to start up V Live. Then I’ll—ah.” He smiled. “You probably know how these usually go already, huh? Forget it, then. You can go ahead and hit ‘Start’ if you’re ready.” He took a seat in front of her on the floor. She did the same. “You are ready, aren’t you?” he insinuated, surprising her with a playful wink. 

“Uh…” she stuttered intelligently. “Yeah.” She searched the screen for the button he mentioned. When she found it and started recording, she gave him a nod and a thumbs-up. 

The segment went just the way it normally did. He did some warm-ups and stretching all while talking to the viewers about his routine. Even those looked hard. Every once in a while, he’d do something cute and silly, after which he’d look up at her inconspicuously with an embarrassed grin. She’d have to stop herself from giggling. Once he finished stretching, he motioned for her to stand up as he did the same. He told the audience he’d start with some freestyle hip-hop. 

Once he found the beat and jumped in, he went silent, focusing on the beat. Before she realised it, she’d lost herself in his movements. It was like breathing for him. His body seemed to have a mind of its own. He didn’t even have to think about the moves he would do next. Each one just flowed right into the next, seamless and without hesitation. 

Once the music reached a stopping point, he relaxed, addressing the viewers again. He came over to stand next to her to see how many people were watching, and the number made his eyes widen like full moons. “Oooh, there are so many of you watching now! Hello, everyone!” He announced he’d demonstrate some of the techniques he used during his freestyle practice from just before. While he was showing each move individually and giving commentary, {Y/n} was able to follow him for the most part, but when he started combining them, that was when he lost her. She tilted her head in amazement, wondering how many of the Army watching were still able to follow along. 

After he’d gone over each technique, he started putting them together into longer series’ of movements. As the current song reached its end, he stopped in place, standing still as the beat came to a close, his breaths heaving and a layer of perspiration covering his forehead as he ran his fingers through his hair. He went and turned off the stereo just as the next song started up. Then to her surprise, he started his closing commentary. When she looked at the time of recording on the phone, she saw that the broadcast had been going on for almost an hour. When he started waving goodbye to the viewers, she began looking for the button to end the livestream. She found it, tapped it, and lowered the camera, signalling to the dancer that it was over. 

“Alright!” he said, clapping his hands together. She handed the phone back to him. “Thanks.” She nodded. “And, hey, thanks again for coming and doing this. Were you able to follow any of it?”

She shrugged. “Kind of? I mean, by no means would I be able to actually do all that myself, but I think I understood some of what you were doing.”

He gave her a grin. “That’s awesome!”

“Honestly, though, I still can’t figure out how you do it all so flawlessly. If I tried to do what you just did, I’d probably be falling all over my own limbs.” She paused, fidgeting with the the hairband around her wrist in thought. 

“Thanks…?”

She hadn’t even heard him. “You’re just so talented. You’re good at singing, rapping dancing… You’ve even produced some of your own music for crying out loud.” She fell silent. She wished she’d been even just half as good at what she did as he was at what he did. 

“What’s wrong?”

She looked up to meet his gaze in a panic, suddenly hearing the insecurity in her own voice. “What? Nothing,” she reassured before looking away in shame. Me and my big mouth… 

“Hey.”

His hands landed on her shoulders. She swallowed in surprise. The tone of his voice was more serious and more tender than she’d ever heard from him before. 

“You’re upset,” he stated with undeniable intent in his gaze. “What about?” 

Doing her best to ignore him, she kept her mouth shut, hoping he’d just give up eventually. She couldn’t tell him that he was the reason she was upset just because he was talented. Oh, God. What had lead up to this? Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to bolt out the door, but her feet remained cemented to the studio floor by Hoseok’s vigilant stare. 

“{Y/n}, you listen to me talk about my problems all the time. The least you can do for yourself is let someone listen to yours.” Where was the sunshine that had been in the room with her until less than a minute ago? If only she could just make him forget everything she’d said. After a while of her still refusing to say anything, he sighed. “Alright, since you won’t tell me, let me take a guess. Is it that you don’t think you have any talent?” She still didn’t feel like saying anything, but she knew by not doing so, she’d be confirming his guess to be correct. “It is, isn’t it?” 

Finally giving in, she nodded. “Yeah, I guess. But can you blame me?”

Hoseok’s face fell, and he gave her a disappointed look. “How could you think that about yourself? Why would I have wanted you to help me with my mixtape if I didn’t think you were the best producer in the company?”

She scoffed under her breath. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you are!” Hearing him raise his voice made her turn to face him. When her eyes met his, Hoseok’s mouth froze. A palpable tension hung in the studio. After a few seconds, he relaxed his shoulders and his face softened. “I just—I don’t want you to think just because I have a lot of talents’ that yours are meaningless.” She nodded. That wasn’t the only reason, but it would do to end this quicker rather than let him prolong it any more. “I’m gonna be honest with you. You’re one of the most talented people I know.”

“Yeah?” she questioned, inwardly skeptical. 

“Yeah! And you know, I bet you could even learn to dance if you tried. You seem like a fast learner.”

This put a jam in her thoughts, forcing her to rewind. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “Me? Dance?” She almost laughed. “Sorry, Hoseok, but are you sure you know who you’re talking to?”

“Of course.” His tone made him sound as though he were accepting a challenge. “I’ll show you. It’s not that hard.” She shook her head in disapproval. “Come on, you’re already dressed for it.” He was right. Her sweatpants and loose tee were practically made for this sort of thing. She could always just take her shoes off. He gave her a smile of encouragement. “Trust me.”

[early-sxnsets]

To Boldly Go

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889619

Word Count: 3764

Summary: A Star Trek nerd meets a comic book shop employee, and the rest is history.

Carry On Countdown 2018 Day 12: In A Bookshop (look liberties here, so for the sake of this, let’s say a comics shop is a comic bookshop)

SIMON

He comes in every other Tuesday.

Most times, he just wanders around and looks over some figures and the occasional comic book, but there’s always a common theme; sci-fi. More specifically, Star Trek, with the occasional other undistinguishable, general sci-fi thrown in the middle. Once, once he picked up a box for a Legolas figure, to which he put down after a minute or two of inspection.

At first, I’d wondered what he was doing in here. Penn and I had a set list of theories, which seemed to get more inbelievable as they went on.

“He’s probably just a reseller, Si. Collects them to sell online, something like that,” she sighed as I picked at her container of General Tso’s after polishing off my own. “Plenty of posh arseholes do that; it’s quick money with minimal effort.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s boring. I’d like to think that he’s somehow connected to a cast member so he collects them for memorabilia.”

“Why would he collect it if the cast member could just get it for him?”

“There’s no room for logic in my fantasy, Penn.”

She just stared at me, eyes tired and absolutely defeated. “If it’s fantasy, then you’ve got to have something more creative?”

That’s a challenge I could actually face. “Fine,” I huff, “what if he’s the next villain to the series? Buyin’ them up to feed his gigantic ego? He looks like some knob who’d be the handsome villain in a film; he looks like a Bond villain, if they were younger.

Eventually, we settled on “Reseller”, which actually ended up being wrong, since I opened my mouth once and actually asked “So how much do you sell these for”, which, honestly, is the worst thing I’ve said to him.

Actually, it’s the only thing I’ve said to him besides “Hi”, “Is this all?”, his total, and “Have a good day”.

He bristled at it, staring at me with shocked eyes that turned bitter soon as his lip curled up. “I don’t resell these,” he spat, raking his eyes over me as he took the bag. He then turned and left without another word, not even relenting his usual nod of goodbye. Nothing.

I was a tad shocked to see him actually come back after that, but nevertheless, he did. Under absolutely mysterious circumstances, he didn’t stop coming. I wholeheartedly expected him to stop showing up, but he didn’t.

It’s quite regular visits too; middle of the day, wearing a particularly dramatic navy peacoat with the collar turned up to hide most of his face and blackened sunglasses. He’s trying to hard to hide himself that it draws more attention. Nearly feels like he’s some celebrity trying to not seem like he’s coming into a dinky little comics shop to pick up Star Trek collectibles, or that someone’s out to get him for stopping by. With his post accent, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s some ridiculously high level government official, or a socialite roaming around.

With the way he buys expensive shit, it would actually make sense.

Which, still, means I should keep my mouth shut and just let him go about his rich business, but my mouth's always open anyway. “What do you do for a living?” I peep up.

It’s the first time I’ve said anything besides the usual in at least three visits, so of course he’s startled by the initial comment, but it turns to his usual brooding stare. “What’s it to you?” he sneers, handing his card over. It sheens in the light, glittering a bit. I swallow down, trying to work a friendly response.

“I mean, you come in pretty regularly, and sometimes you buy a couple hundred pounds worth of shit. Seems like you’ve got a bit of money to be splurging, and I guess… I’m curious..?”

He stares wordlessly, eyebrows knit together and I’m absolutely sure I cocked it up now. That is, up until he opens his mouth an actually answers. “I’m a banker,” he says, shifting his weight. “I work uptown; usually deal with stocks and loans.”

My eyes stay down as he talks, bagging his figures carefully and working out his transaction. When I do raise them, though, he’s uncharacteristically soft with his head turned towards the window and gaze set on something out there. He’s silent, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. It makes me all soft inside, a type of soft that I don’t fully understand.

“That’s cool,” I say with as warm of a voice as I can muster, reaching across the counter to hand the bags off.

The scoff he lets off tells me that it probably isn’t. “Is it, though?” he mocks, cocking a brow to me and making my gut twist again. Makes me nauseous in such a weird way; like I want him to be nice to me, or at least some resemblance of niceties between us.

“Yeah,” I force on. If one of us is going to be nice, at least, I suppose it’ll be me. “I mean, it’s nice that you haven’t stopped caring about shit that makes you happy. Seems like when people get into that sort of work, they stop caring about what makes them happy.”

I really wish he had an expression beyond blank and pensive. Right now, it’s still stuck on the former. He just huffs and nods in agreement, pursing his lips as if he’s preparing to actually say something decent back before deciding against it. “I’d best be off.” And with that, he gives his typical head nod then leaves me like this. Like we weren’t bordering between a conversation; a bloody breakthrough with this.

I have no right to be disappointed because he’s not obligated to somewhat care, but shit, I am. I just want him to stay maybe a minute longer; maybe actually talk with me for once. If not a necessity, but a casually expected social interaction. I’m nice enough, dammit.

That’s it. That’s my mission; to make him actually talk to me, rather than just pop in and pop out. All my other regulars actually talk to me, but this git just tries to run off and avoid me. Well, not anymore. I won’t let him try to sneak away again; I’ll crack his fucking shell. I’m a nice person, therefore people should like me. Sounds fake to not like me, realistically.

So when he comes in again two weeks later, I’m more chipper than usual, a grin plastered across my face as he steps in. “Half past noon on the nose per usual, huh?” After two weeks of thinking, I’ve realized it’s probably his lunch break. The foot traffic doesn’t typically start up here until after schools let out in the afternoon. Hell, we don’t open on weekdays until about 11, except when students are on breaks. We stay open late for the groups that meet, though.

Somewhat like weeks ago, he gives me a startled look. It’s me going off script, and I don’t think he really likes that. “I… yes. You’re not incorrect.”

Wrinkling my nose a bit, I grin to him. “A new figure came in today; it’s handmade and modeled off the most recent film Spock. Didn’t even put it in the case yet, if you want to see that?”

With that, he perks up (although it doesn’t really show on his face) and nods, stepping up to the counter. I’ve got him now, I think.

I excuse myself to the back room and pull out an in-box statue. It’s no bigger than two feet, but the details are impeccable. Right up his alley.

As he scans over it, box resting on the glass counter, I take my first shot at conversation. “So, Star Trek?”

“Yes.”

“Why Star Trek?”

His head lift to me briefly, eyes catching mine for a moment before the slowly lower back down wordlessly. Great.

“You know,” I start again, licking my lips subtly as I lean slightly forward on the counter. “You don’t have to hide in here; those sunglasses aren’t fooling anybody, especially indoors. And it’s cool to collect shit.”

It’s silent between us for a minute and I can see that he’s studying me, trying to figure out whether or not to actually go through with anything before slowly lifting up his glasses. They perch on his hairline, stands of his hair sweeping back with it.

For the first time, I’m seeing them in actual color.

For the first time, I realize they’re grey.

It sort of knocks the wind from me. Hell, of course he was gorgeous before, but the subtle contrast of his eyes to his skin makes my knees a bit wobbly. It’s like he has the face for fucking Vogue or something, especially being all sharp like that.

And now I’m just staring at him, not talking, probably with a gaping jaw as he just doesn’t answer. I look like a rightful idiot.

It takes a minute for me to find my decency again. “See,” I say, probably a bit quieter than I’d like. “Nothing to hide.” A smile pushes to my cheeks, and I’m hoping that I’m not actually blushing because that’d be more than embarrassing.

A smirk plays at his lips as his chin tips up. “Hm.” And that’s it. That’s all he gives me.

At least it’s progress.

We grin at each other somewhat awkwardly before he lowers his chin again, inspecting the figure. A few strands fall back into his face, one right down the middle. It’s the one falling from his widow’s peak.

“How much?” he asks, lifting up once more and leveling his gaze at me and shit, I feel weak again.

I tell him. Weakly, but I do tell him. My hands plant on the countertop, supporting me up as I give him a little smile. “I think it’s worth the splurge. Can’t say I’ll keep it in the back, though; manager tells me we have to keep product rolling.”

He’s a bit displeased with that, shifting his shoulders as I can see his neck bob. “Fine.” His lips twitch as he speaks. “I’ll take it.”

I grin and nod, starting to pack it away into one of the bags as he pulls his wallet out. “You know,” I begin, flicking the paper bag open before sliding the figure’s box inside. “I’ve never actually seen the show or the movies.”

“Really?” He looks quizzical, as in genuinely, actually curious. The third ever emotion I’ve seen him display. “Never even went past it on the telly?”

I shrug, taking his card and sliding it through. “No, not really. I mean, I’ve seen adverts for it, but never really got onto that boat. I’ve always been more action heros. You know, big muscles, big fight scenes, in your face sort of shit. Was easy to idealize being that as a kid.”

He doesn’t respond to that, though. He scans over me, fully taking off his glasses now, taking the moment to pull them from his head, fold them, them tuck them into his breast pocket. “I have a collection of merchandise, and access to all shows and films. And the books, for that matter.”

I can’t help but say “Couldn’t guess”. In all seriousness, I probably shouldn’t have, but I did anyway.

He flinches at that, squinting and checking his watch. Maybe he is in a rush... “Look,” he starts, taking his card back, signing the paper with a flourish of the pen. “Do you want to see them?”

He’s stuffing his card back hastily, grabbing the bag with one hand and tucking the other away. I stare, a little dazed by the fact that he’s talking in somewhat full sentences to me. “I… uh… yes, yeah, sure.”

He turns over the receipt, scribbling something down. “When do you get out?”

“Um…” Suddenly, I have no schedule. Maybe I live here? Who knows. I forget everything when I look at him. “Six--seven. I get off at seven.”

“Right, well I’ll be by at seven, then. You can come by to my flat and I’ll introduce you to it.” As he shoves the receipt across the counter, he keeps a downcasted gaze. I just nod.

He nods back to me, then leaves, and that’s that.

That actually happened. As in, I didn’t dream it up, for once and I've actually got his number and name on the receipt to prove for it. Baz.

I don’t quite know what it means and as to why he invited me to his flat, but all I know is I’ve got a knot in my gut and I can’t stop smiling when he leaves.

Seven o’clock it is.

BAZ

I don’t know why I did that.

Fuck. Fuck. Why did I do that?

I go off and lose my composure, that’s what I do. I can’t hold it in for the cute shop employee.

Scratch that, it isn’t just me losing my composure. Losing my composure was a few weeks ago when I told him what I do for a living. This? This was insanity. I actually asked him to come to my flat. He barely knows me, I barely know him beyond his name (and now the fact that he likes Superheros), but here I am, inviting him to my flat. Either I’m bonkers or living in an alternate universe where that’s a genuinely okay thing to do, because that was not what I should be doing.

It’s even more unbelievable that he actually said yes. I thought for sure that he’d laugh at me and say something about a girlfriend or other, but instead he said yes.

Well, sort of. A nod is a yes in this situation. It’s not a no, so I suppose it’ll be appropriate for me to go through with what I said I’d do.

Actually, it might be a little inappropriate if I don’t, seeing as I said I would.

So, here I am. Doing that. Getting out of work and stressing in my car for an hour before I go to pick him up.

Trying to look cool, I park out front and step out, waiting leaning up against the car with crossed arms and a sideways glance. Sometimes, I wonder whether or not I actually come off as cool, or rather a stalking maniac. I’m not quite sure if it matters anymore, since he actually agreed to do this (whatever this is).

The shop’s door dings, drawing my eyes up to catch Simon’s. He’s all smiles, his nametag still pinned to his chest and hair swept away from his eyes. As he steps forward, he’s fiddling with his sleeves. “Hey--hi,” he says quickly, glancing down at my car before his eyes shoot back to me. It’s fucking adorable.

“Ready to go?” I let out, cocking a brow to him. I left off my glasses this time, actually letting him see me. Feels a bit cruel to not to, given that he willed them off me earlier.

He just nods, backpack slung over his shoulder. “Um, would you want to get dinner, first?” he blurts out, blinking before shaking his head. “Or… fuck, maybe something else. We don’t have to, I just thought…”

It’s utterly unfair. He goes from suave to a bumbling idiot within the course of a day.

“We can order in, if you want.” I swing open the car door for him, stepping aside and staying there holding it as he slides in. I don’t want to sound too desperate, but in all honesty? I sort of am. I hate to admit it, but this feels ridiculously unreal. I stop in to satisfy my weird crush, and somehow he doesn’t think I’m the scum of the Earth? Sounds unrealistic.

As I round the car, I can feel his eyes following my movements, catching mine as I’m lowering into my seat. “I’d like that--ordering in, that is.”

The car ride to my flat is relatively quiet. He doesn’t make a move to turn on the radio, but instead stares out the window with his hands drawn to his lap in silence. I wish I knew what was in his mind; I wish I could just turn to him and simply ask. Instead, I stay silent, hands gripping the wheel and eyes locked forward.

The short drive feels like a century long.

When we finally pull up, though, he’s got an odd look on his face, bordering from smirking and surprised. I can’t help but throw him back a raised brow.

“It’s just…” he starts, staring up at the rising levels of my flat. “It’s ridiculously posh. I didn’t doubt that you have money, but shit.”

I push away the smirk tugging at my lips. We step out, him bounding towards the door as I grab my case and lock up. In a fluid motion, I follow him up the stairs, unlock the door, and wave him inside. The first few steps are hesitant as he disappears into the small hallway, but after I second I hear him mumble something to himself. “Holy shit.”

My keys rattle as they hit the bowl, eyes following Snow as he steps around. “Better than my shit flat.” His hands grip the tattered, used straps of his backpack as he glances back to me. “Where the hell do you keep all the collectibles.”

Immediately, I freeze. How do I word this without coming off as a creep? “Come upstairs,” I say, jerking my head in a nod towards the staircase.

It’s starting to dawn on me that this tit almost definitely does not have any sense of self preservation, nor does he stop to think about trust. Never have I seen somebody so eagerly run up a stranger’s stairs at a single motion, but yet, here he is. Doing exactly that.

I follow him wordlessly, stepping ahead at the top of the flight and opening my office door for him. Inside, there’s a bookshelf, stacked full of figures, a few in-box, a few set up for display, and various memorabilia. He gawks at it, blinking and turning towards me after a second. “So you’re no joke?”

“Did you think I would be?” My back hits the end of the door, leaning casually as it sways a tad. Snow seems just slightly taken aback, sweeping hair from his forehead and tugging it in his fist.

“Not particularly, no. I just… hadn’t fully imagined this. It’s absolutely wicked.”

My lip twitches to the side, and this time, I let it.

What I don’t let, though, is myself to answer. I just stare, a smile on my face as Snow’s flushes and turns away. Silently, he scans over what I’ve got, stepping around to get the full effect. It takes minutes, leaving me plenty of time to admire him before he catches me in the act.

With a blush and a turn of the head, he clears his throat and tugs at his sleeve. “I’d love it if you’d show me the first episode…”

Oh, right. I nod my head back downstairs, taking the lead and setting up my Netflix, flicking over my list and landing on Star Trek, the original series. After hitting it on, I pause it and drag out my mobile. “What should I order.”

He drops his bag by his feet, shrugging and sitting back. (More like sprawling).

“That isn’t an answer.”

“I’m just… not picky.”

I stare at him for a minute, trying to control my deep hatred for those like him who don’t care to answer before exhaling and dialing for pizza.

His hand reaches across and pokes the play button on the remote the moment I’ve hung up, glancing up at me with wide eyes and an innocent grin before turning back towards the telly.

At first, he’s completely clueless.

“Wait, that isn’t Kirk, is it?”

“No it isn’t. Shut up.”

“No, but wait, is Kirk not in the first season or something?”

“No, he is. Just watch, it’s important.”

“But-”

He stops with a toss of my pointed glare, to which he responds by rolling his eyes defiantly before sitting back with crossed arms.

I get up halfway through, greeting the delivery man and collecting the pizza before joining Snow again.

He stays mostly silent through the episode, occupied mostly by food. When I open my mouth to ask if he wants to watch the next, though, he just hits the automatic play button for the episode.

I don’t even try to trick myself into hiding my smile.

“There’s Kirk!” He exclaims, grinning and seeming awfully proud of himself. “Knew he’d be in.”

Without really thinking about it, I let out a, “You sort of look like him.” Which, in hindsight, doesn’t sound like a brilliant idea.

He turns his head to me, though, and blinks. “What, ridiculously handsome?” He half jokes, face becoming a sort of half-smile as he wipes his lips with a paper napkin.

Fucking hell, if looks could kill, he’d be wanted.

“I said sort of.” Not quite an intelligent retaliation, but a solid one nonetheless.

Despite that, he grins and presses on. “Do you think I’m handsome, Baz?”

I’m deathly silent. Shit.

His hand spans across the deep grey seats of my couch, first resting on the remote and hitting pause. When I think I might be clear, he drops the remote and rests his hand on my arm. I wish I could pull it away, or just pull him closer.

“Do you?”

“I can’t lie and say no.” I’m sounding a bit harsher than I’d expect, but he’s got a look in his eyes that’s driving me mad, and I can’t help but wonder what his lips taste like.

Cut short in thought, my mind goes all static-y the second his mouth presses to mine. At first, it’s brief, our lips brushing for a split second before he retracts and eyes me up curiously.

I’m flushed up like a madman, staring at him with glassy eyes and a slightly hanging jaw for a moment’s time, thinking of how one would properly react. But, eventually, all that flies out the window when I crash back into him, hands racing into his hair and yanking him into a kiss. He doesn’t refuse in the slightest, lips upturned into a funny smile as he snogs me back, resting his hands onto my hips.

I’ve got my answer, then. He tastes just like he looks; like something I never want to let go of.

[stirlingphoenix]

Keitor Month Day 4 - Abandonment

<< Day 3

Here’s the fourth installment of my Keitor Month drabbles! Enjoy! It’s a little late, but it’s also a little longer, so... :3

Keith/Lotor | PG-13 | ~1.5k words

Keith's not great with relationships, or personal interactions, or people in general. Every once in a while, he comes across someone special, someone he can connect to, who makes him feel like maybe he's not so different from everyone else, almost like he's halfway normal.

It doesn’t matter how hard Keith tries to cling to that sensation and actually become anything resembling ordinary, it never quite pans out the way he wants it to, and one way or another, his failure to measure up always leads to an inevitable end to whatever relationship he has at the time. Sometimes he gets a reason and other times he doesn't, but no one ever sticks around for very long. Eventually, it gets to the point where Keith no longer waits for things to end without his consent—utilizing what little control he still has and breaking things off before whoever can do it first.

Either way, the heartache never goes away, but at least when he makes the first move he can keep his pain in the acute phase, quickly convincing himself ‘it’s for the best’ and that it’s how he wants it to be. He’s better this way, alone, without anyone else hindering his objectives—whether by directly opposing him or creating another empty void somewhere within his broken soul.

But then Lotor came along, and even now Keith still isn't sure how he got so lucky. Somehow, Lotor manages to bypass the steel barricades he’s built up around himself and find his way into his heart, creating the perfect niche right in the center of it, one that Keith’s not sure will ever heal if it’s ever abandoned.

Being with Lotor shouldn’t be as easy it is. With his dedication to the Blade and Lotor’s place as Emperor of the Galra Empire, they’ve both had more than enough opportunities to drift apart and never look back. Keith still doesn't understand why, but Lotor keeps coming back to him. Every time he's called away for a mission with the Blade or when Lotor needs to leave and take care of his diplomatic responsibilities, something dark and cynical in the back of his mind, the part that's fed up with the agony of being alone tells him that this is it, that Lotor isn't coming back this time, or maybe he won’t.

Cutting himself out wouldn’t be difficult—in fact with how busy he is it’s almost harder to make enough time to seek Lotor out—but every time he gets the notion to stay back, that maybe he doesn’t need to leave the base this time around, that he can go another a phoeb without seeing his friends, and even longer without Lotor, Lotor always ruins those plans by finding him instead. It's almost like they have some sort of unspoken arrangement for whenever Keith's insecurities grow a little too heavy to handle on his own, and when he can't muster the strength to chase after Lotor, then Lotor will come for him, proving that maybe whatever they have isn't as one-sided as Keith thinks.

He's been happy with Lotor, in fact, he can't help but think Lotor makes him a little too happy, to the point where if he lets himself fall for Lotor more than he already has, he won't have enough willpower to pick himself back up if their relationship crumbles apart someday. Unless of course, he does that one thing he tends to do and ends everything before Lotor can take it away. Self-sabotage? Perhaps, but Keith prefers to think of it as facing reality and refusing to indulge in a beautiful lie that would only destroy him in the end.

It's a night, one where he and Lotor have the rare opportunity to spend more than a few vargas together that Keith finally decides he can't take it anymore. If Keith's being totally honest with himself, he'll admit that he loves being like this with Lotor. He loves being curled up next to him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps and running his fingers through Lotor's long, snow-white hair. But just like his happiness, he loves this too much, and he knows he's not going to survive the day Lotor no longer wants him—because it's coming, it always does.

So, he puts an end to it, climbing out of bed and getting dressed as quietly as he can, which proves more difficult than he'd planned with all the shuffling around in the dark. After a little while, he finds his Blade suit, barely managing to put one leg in before he hears the shifting of covers on the bed. His breathing comes to a halt as he dares to look over, meeting Lotor's cat-like gaze staring at him through the darkness.

“Where are you going?” Lotor blinks up at him, his eyes still bleary from sleep, yet Keith still spots a hint of confusion flashing through them.

“I-” Keith finds himself at a loss for words. He might have come up with some lame excuse, something that would allow him to take back his transgression and pretend like everything's okay. But he doesn't—he can't lie, not to Lotor.

When they're alone like this, Lotor doesn't have an expressionless mask to hide behind. He's raw and open, willing to let Keith see him for everything he is and share what he feels, and right now, Keith finds himself staring into a void of pure anguish, a feeling he's all too familiar with.

“C’mere.” Lotor reaches out for him, and Keith doesn't have the resolve to resist. He gives in, sliding into bed and curling back up with Lotor, and in spite of what he’s just tried to get away with, Keith can't shake the notion he belongs here. He lets out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief for being caught as he presses his face into Lotor's chest, not quite ready to explain himself.  

After a few ticks, deft fingers start working through his hair—Lotor’s gentle touch is more than enough to make Keith relax against him.

“Even at my age, I still I find making connections with others exceedingly difficult, so when I come across someone special,” Keith doesn't need to look up, not when he can feel the pointed stare Lotor's giving him, making it obvious Lotor's talking about him, “I give everything I have to try and not lose them.”

Lotor’s words aren't accusatory nor explicit, but his voice says it all.

Keith pushes himself up to meet Lotor's gaze. “How did you know?”

“I’ve ruined my fair share of relationships,” the note of complete understanding in his voice tells Keith that Lotor's done the exact same thing he was trying to do several times over. “Leave before they can walk out on me, better they suffer than me.” Lotor gives him a melancholic smile as he reaches out to brush Keith's bangs out of his eyes. “I believe it's a method you're familiar with, yes?”

“That's the gist of it.” Keith nods, unable to say anything else.

“Listen, if you're ever unhappy with what we have and it's something we can't fix I won't make you stay,” Lotor's gaze drifts to the side for the briefest of ticks, and Keith can almost hear his heart break at the mere mention of losing each other, “but, from experience, what you're doing doesn't get easier, and if the fear that I'll abandon you is the only thing driving your desire to leave now, then I implore you to consider this:”

Before Keith can even think about what's happening, Lotor already has his arms wrapped around his body in a tight embrace, with his legs quickly following suit and securing them around Keith's waist, effectively trapping him right there in bed.

“You make a compelling argument.” Keith makes a futile attempt at wriggling out of Lotor's hold, emphasizing his claim. He finds that Lotor's willing to adjust his limbs for the sake of letting Keith move a bit and get himself comfortable, but otherwise Lotor remains unrelenting in keeping Keith close and protected.

“I thought so.” Lotor sounds way too pleased with himself right now, but Keith can't deny that in this case, he absolutely deserves it.

“For the record, I don't want to leave you.” He thinks that should be obvious, but nevertheless, Keith seeks to prove his claim by shifting in Lotor's arms just enough so that he can slide his arms around Lotor in turn, his fingers eventually weaving their way into Lotor's hair. Keith lets a content sigh pass through his lips as he relishes in the familiar softness.

“I know,” Lotor replies, placing a chaste kiss to Keith's temple before nuzzling that exact spot. He doesn't elaborate, but Keith doesn't need him to.

That's another thing about Lotor—not only does he always return to him without fail, but his total understanding of him, even when he fails to explain himself properly means everything, and he realizes then and there that this, what he shares with Lotor, is something he can't afford to lose. For once, he's giving Lotor his trust, and he's not going to run away. Even when things get overwhelming and his anxiety gets the better of him, he'll see this through, because deep down, he knows Lotor will always be there for him.

[yoongspd]

Pillowtalk; knj

Genre: friends with benefits au, angst

Word Count:3k words

Warnings: implied sex

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Author’s Note: Hi, Tabitha @ga1axydefender! Thank you for helping me improve my work. I’d realized the dull spots of this fic through your comments. Also, credits to @pjmnnie for the raw image of this header.

If you think it’s good or bad, I’d appreciate if you tell me as I’m quite new to writing Creative Fiction. Enjoy!

___________

“Uhh, Joon?”

“Hmm?” he mumbles, slightly-built arms still wrapped around you.

You bite your lower lip out of habit. It was either you piecing your thoughts together or you trying to find the courage to utter your words. “Can I crash on your sofa? I don’t want to walk home alone tonight.”

“Goodness, ____!” He chuckles as he turns and leans on his side to face you. “News flash, ____, we just had sex. What’s wrong with you staying over? Especially on my bed where, well, we’ve fucked? Quit your couch bullshit. You’re always welcome here, sex or none.” His eyes are fixed on you. His mind flashes him a supercut of yours and his casual trysts together over the past weeks, but his lust-strained thoughts are overpowered by a curious amusement of your mind’s workings.

You cover your face with your left hand, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. You hated what this all implied. “God, this will sound pathetic and paranoid,” you mumble with a certain hint of annoyance.

Namjoon snickers. “I’ve known you for some time, I wouldn’t be surprised anymore. Well, because you kind of are paranoid.” This earns him your infamous death glare.

“Ugh, nevermind. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Shut up. I’m sure you do. Go hand me a serving of your daily introspection.” He says all this with genuine encouragement. He shifts on the bed once again to make himself more comfortable.

Despite your annoyance, you fight off the small smile trying to tug at your lips. He noticed. And he was right. You liked talking. Not to everyone, that is, but Namjoon became one of the few exceptions. He listened, and he always made it seem like he wanted to hear everything you had to say.

You exhale a shaky breath. “This. Our arrangement, I mean,” You pause to lower your gaze from his pale ceiling to his eyes. You are quick to hide the sudden halt in your chest as you see him engrossed. Cliché enough, you felt as if your lungs were gripped on a chokehold. The atmosphere was in a tight pause for a few seconds. He was paying attention.

You remind yourself that this was Namjoon, he was a good person – scratch that, he was better than majority of the human species – he is always like this. “I know this trope from movies and fiction. We’re obviously friends with benefits, fuck buddies, whatever you call it. And we both know this is platonic,” you ease into the context of what you plan to say.

He interjects, “So? What’s your point?”

You take a deep breath and say in one go, “I hope I don’t scare you away, but like there’s this thing where somehow this sort of thing would lead us towards feelings because of like couple-y gestures. Sorry, I mean, like acts beyond the fucking. For example, sleeping over and… your arms around me.” However, Namjoon seems to have his mind elsewhere now.

“I fucking doubt we’d become that, but I’d like to avoid all possible hazards,” you wrap up, but your words weaken their resolve with every uttered word.

“I get what you mean. I can stay on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t want to put you in much trouble. So sorry. Uhh, is it fine if I sleep here beside you then?” You fidget with your hands, avoiding looking at Namjoon directly. “Of course.” Remembering what you’d said earlier, Namjoon releases his arms draped around you much to his regret. But as he sees you loosen up, he kicks at his previous thoughts and longing of having you in his arms. Platonically, of course.

He lies on his back again, staring at the ceiling like you were. It seems the temptation of sleep has abandoned the both of you.

Namjoon gathers the courage to ask, “Why do you say sorry too much?”

The sudden invitation to converse doesn’t surprise you. Namjoon liked to speak of the stars, philosophy, and whatever an aesthetic angsty romance blog dreamt of.

Yours and Namjoon’s eyes solely wander the ceiling, but you talk, “Good question. But do you really want me to start a sob story right now?”

“I’m all ears.”

“Well, I’ve actually had some introspection regarding this.”

“Of course you have.”

You snicker at his comment. “You know me so well.” And you send him a huge grin, because well, you love talking about yourself, and he seems to love listening to you. “Uhm, okay. So I think I say sorry a lot because I know I only have myself to blame every time.”

“That’s ridiculous,” despite the interjection, you hear the smile in his voice.

“Maybe for you, but… I guess, this is negatively Nihilistic, all things happening to me are consequences of what I have done,” you defend.

Your words trouble him. To him, it seems you are carrying the weight of the world if you think like this. Now, he sees where your apparent self-hatred sourced its fuel. “Not always. You didn’t choose to be here.”

“Well, not at the start. But there’s always something I can do about things. Had I really not wanted to exist, I’d have killed myself. However, as much as this life is a tragedy, things aren’t always bad.”

“You know what?” You prompt.

You don’t get an answer from him. Nonetheless, you continue, “Whenever I failed something, you know –not do what my mom wants me to have done, she’d find the fault in me. And maybe that was a bit too harsh, but it was logical. I guess there’s always something I could’ve done whenever things went wrong.”

He quotes, “When you’re the leader, everything’s your fault.’ That’s from A Bug’s Life. If everyone thought like that, there wouldn’t be wars.”

“Thanks.”

“But ____, not everything is your fault,” He repeats.

“I know, but I think bad things don’t happen to people if they are cautious enough.”

A brief pause hangs in the air. But you surprisingly don’t feel uncomfortable.

“So when I stood you up at that ball when we were fourteen, did you blame yourself?” He tries to argue. But he also wanted to indulge in your thoughts about him.

“Partly. Had I been prettier or more interesting, maybe—“ “No! No! You’ve got it all wrong. Nobody deserves to be treated the way I did you!”

“You were also fourteen, Namjoon. And you were an immature dimwit. Really, if you’d liked me, you would’ve gone with me rather than pick up another girl when we already had plans.”

“I. was. the. asshole. Okay?”

“I didn’t say you weren’t. But face it, these things do not happen to pretty people.”

He punches himself mentally for he was already void of a response. “I’m sorry.”

“Too late. It haunted my self-esteem for the entirety of my adolescence.” You laugh, and he only cringes. It was a total dick move.

“Would you have said yes if I asked you to be my girlfriend back then?” He wonders.

“You never would have. But you know the answer to that if you had asked that girl I killed. Now, good night, Namjoon. Thanks for letting me stay in your bed. Shut up already.”

“Good night, ____.” There was a slight ache in his chest. He knew you liked him so much when you were younger and immature. Would you have been childhood sweethearts if he had kept his promise that night? Maybe, if he weren’t an asshole. You weren’t on the boys’ stupid date list. You kept to your circle of friends and didn’t initiate conversation outside of it. Nevertheless, you caught Namjoon’s eye. Quite a looker, if you look closely. He noted in his head before. Namjoon frowned.

But had you two been together back then, he doubted it would last. Then you wouldn’t speak to him ever again and wouldn’t have what you two had today. He falls asleep contented with his reasoning. He liked this, what you two have now.

–

“Why doesn’t she like me back?” He voices faintly. His words mimic a whisper, but you hear them as they are one of the few things that maintain a presence of life in his room. You are both staring at his ceiling again.

You know he is talking about Carmen from one of his Engineering classes. The kind of girl that never gets caught in trouble. Partly because she would hardly risk herself in those, and partly because she was still careful when she got into them. She was kind, smart and pretty. Average. But the only interaction you’ve ever had with her were your eyes meeting at the corridors, so you couldn’t tell.

“Tell me what she’s like,” You ask instead.

“She never fails to make me laugh. She’s really witty. And— And she has dreams. Like, real dreams and goals for her future.” You can tell he was carefully choosing his words, but despite that, it was clear for you that Namjoon was whipped.

“Wait. How would you know she doesn’t like you?”

He hesitates. “I told her two days ago.”

You laugh at that, “Goodness, Joon, you’re such a sap!”

“And she told me she could never feel the same.” The embarrassment creeps up on him. He felt so mushy sharing a heartache with you. Now, you’re the one embarrassed.

“Okay. That’s it. Goodnight, _____.”

“You can’t escape from me, Joon,” You tease. “What are you, twelve? Confessing feelings and shit like that?”

“This is why I should’ve never told you,” He groans.

“Sorry, Namnam. But, honestly, I can’t see why she doesn’t. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” You turn to face him, offering a kind smile.

He shifts too, the both of you now facing each other. The close proximity charges you with a static you choose to ignore. This was Namjoon.

“So, you’re saying you’re lucky to have me?” He grins.

“It’s an honor,” you jokingly correct, “But I’m only saying that because baby Joon had his heart broken.”

“Nah, you can’t take that back anymore. It’s an honor for me too.” His smile never leaves him. Then, without much thinking, he kisses your cheek for extra assurance.

The move surprises you, and you want to punch yourself in the gut for feeling something you can’t quite identify.

–

“You keep on hating society and its structures, but we make up society, Joon.” You say after you’ve tucked yourself beneath his sheets. Sleeping over after cleaning yourself off had become a shared habit for you and Namjoon. And the pillowtalk was a necessary bonus.

“Yet you still follow the structures as if you don’t have a choice.” He debates.

You glare at him. He was right, but it took him so much ease to judge– as if he already knows all of you. You sigh. “I don’t have the luxury to deviate, you know that.”

“And I do?” He points, quite dumbly in your opinion.

“Haha. I’m not going to stroke your ego.”

“Really, tell me.” He says with a grin stretching across his face, eyes encouragingly squinting from his smile.

“You got that merit scholarship without reviewing for the CETs, right?”

He nods cautiously. He knew this was going to be thrown against him.

“Well, I studied so so hard for that same scholarship. But I received one for financial need rather than intellectual prowess.”

“Hey, hey, that doesn’t invalidate your intelligence.”

“Maybe. But my point here is you don’t have to make much of an effort anymore. You’re literally a genius. So please don’t hate on me when I say you have it easier. Me? I have everything at stake.”

Another pang of ache in his chest. His ego, maybe. “Only in the case of academics. Life is difficult for me too.”

“Maybe.” You respond, though unconvinced.

He nudges your shoulder after absorbing what you replied. “Now you’re invalidating my pain.”

“Yes. I’m aware I’m an insensitive bitch.”

“Why did you want that scholarship so bad? Most of who we know stayed.”

You take a while to respond. This… was personal.

“I wanted to get away. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. But often I couldn’t bear living with them. It’s difficult to explain.”

“Once again, do tell me. If you feel like it of course.”

You exhale a bit.

“Well, my mother always made me pretend I was bubbly and an overachiever and that this family was picture perfect when we all knew it was fucking dysfunctional. It was fucking exhausting. She even lies about my achievements. No, she didn’t exaggerate. She lied. She’d say I’d competed in a Math Olympiad in High School. You know I didn’t. And I had to live up to that lie and when I reflected on that, I guessed who I am and was is someone my mother isn’t proud of. Imagine feeling not enough as a child. Then she asks me why I “act” all depressed.”

“I thought she loved you.”

“She does. I think she does. On some days, she supports me. But most of the time, she asks, why didn’t you get that? Like the Merit Scholarship, for example. All my achievements are nothing because they aren’t the best.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Nobody does.”

“You never shared.” He quickly interjects.

“Nobody asked.”

“We were always willing to listen.”

“Namjoon, If I don’t have my family, who do I have?”

You are surprised to feel his hand over yours. You are both connected once again in his bed, but this time it was different. As the warmth of his hand seeps through your skin, you tense up in alarm. This was against the rules.

“The answer is nobody, Namjoon.” You lightly chew on your bottom lip. Regardless of your words, you don’t exert effort to remove your hand under his. His grip only tightens on yours.

“I’m here for you, alright.”

“You don’t know that.” You finally remove your hand from his, and proceed to lift yourself off of his bed to dress up. “I can’t stay the night,” you explain.

“It’s late, I’ll walk you home.”

You don’t refuse, there was no way to change his mind.

–

The both of you pause to look at the river. Calm and serene, wrapped under the subtle radiance of the dawn’s moon. Unknowingly, you and Namjoon share the exact same comfort the river offers.

Staring straight ahead, he says, “____, I need to tell you something.”

Not looking at each other has become a habit. You don’t give him an answer, and only continue to stare at the river. However, you feel him take a long look at you, and you remind yourself that this was Namjoon.

“_____, I think I like you. Beyond friends. I like you beyond what we have right now.”

His words register and you feel as if something has lodged itself in your throat. “Are you messing with me?” You finally croak out, you have decided all of it was bullshit.

“Why would you think that? Of course I’m not.”

“Okay. You’re just saying this because you’re trying to move on from Carmen,” the panic evident in your voice.

He groans at your reply. “I’m not, okay. Seriously.”

All of it still sounds surreal to you. This was Namjoon, and he never before liked you back when you did, back when you still felt. This was Namjoon and if he did have feelings, they should be reserved for people who were still whole.

“I don’t think you’ve thought this through,” you frantically piece together, “If you need a casual fuck, you know I can offer you that.”

“Listen,” He grips your arm. You freeze in response, completely taken aback. “I’ve been starting to long for our conversations more than whatever happens before those. And Carmen was almost a month ago, _____. I like you. It’s that simple.”

His grip on you finally loosens and the silence that remains decides to engulf the both of you. Your mind files all his recent words under the same folder labelled bullshit. Namjoon would never lie, but sometimes he could have errors in judgment. You walk ahead, and he only looks at your frame trying to understand what was going on in your head before he finally matches up with your strides.

–

Before you close the door between the two of you, you extend your “good night” and “thank you”s through, “If what you were saying was not made up fiction, you had easily moved on from Carmen after a month. I can’t be any different.”

Before he can retort, you tersely cut him off, “It’s not simple. And you don’t know that.” You shut your door.

After minutes of the guilt and self-hatred gnawing at you, dreamless sleep finally overcomes you.

Namjoon only picks up on what you meant as he meets the river on his way back. Momentary anger looms over him and he kicks a stray rock into the waters.

–

Kim Namjoon: I’ll stop disturbing you now. Please, let’s talk.

You: 4pm. cafe near east wing.

When he receives your reply, he doesn’t feel the relief he was hoping for. He was muddled again. You had ghosted him for a week after that night he walked you home. And he thought you two were friends already. You’d already known him so well. Even on things he never said out loud.

Frustration is evident on his face when you take the seat across his.

“You know what I think?” He didn’t even bother with a greeting.

You look at him sullenly, you don’t have to put yourself in pain by giving him answers.

“You stick to this notion that if someone actually loves you, they should be sure of it the instant they say it. That they should be absolutely fucking sure that you are all they want. No baggages left. And unless that’s what’s happening, they don’t love you at all. Well, truth is, you are so fucking difficult to love, __!”

Tears spill angrily from your eyes. You weren’t one to cry in front of others, you were always the tough one, always resolute on what you believed in. But this time, he was right. Bull’s Eye. He had laid it in front of you. One of the nightmares which had always haunted you: nobody will ever love you.

“Yeah, well fuck the idea that there actually is somebody out there who is meant to love you. That we were all born in pairs. That’s just another bedtime story mommy told you to rid your mind off the monsters under your bed. Fact is, love isn’t for everyone. I thought you –of all people, what with your screw society’s expectations maxim—would fucking know that! I don’t need a goddamned pep talk on: oh, Susan you are not worthy of love. Because. I. Of all people. Fucking. Know.”

He closes his eyes in frustration. Inhales a deep breath to calm his thoughts. And he meets your eyes again, yours always seemingly unfazed from criticism—always stoic. “You’re wrong,” he finally says.

“And I’m staying to have this forsaken conversation with you. That’s the only wrong thing I said because I am leaving,” you say as you wipe off your tears and put down the money to pitch in for what you ordered earlier.

He sighs again. Repeating the same short ritual of getting his aggravated thoughts in place. And before you push back your seat to cue another unsaid good bye, he once again speaks up. All this, he’s said with eyes downcast.

“You’re wrong because, yes you are such a pain in the ass, but that doesn’t fucking stop me from feeling this way. No, not just feel. I’d fucking choose you today over any perfectly binded fairytale, over and over again, ____.”

You were already halfway towards the café’s exit. But with what he’s said, your feet remain frozen on the floor. You look at his slumped figure, and everything inside you is drowning into a riot. You’ve been through this before. For most parts of you, this was bullshit. Wordlessly, you head quickly to make the leave you promised.

When your room’s door behind you shuts, hot tears silently rage down your face. You’ve never forgotten how it felt when that clenching heaviness tore away on the edges of the void, the center of your chest. But now that you feel it again, the sobs escape louder this time.

You hold a hand over your mouth, struggling to breathe properly. This and the void were all that you knew. You hunch over yourself, and bask in self-hatred. Why were you crafted this way? Why can’t you just love and be loved like others do?

–

Four days after, and your scent still lightly clutched on Namjoon’s unwashed sheets. Its lingering presence serving as a vague reminder of one of his favorite things in the world—his face between your legs. Unintentionally, every breath he takes under his blankets as he lulls himself to sleep only reminds him of what wasn’t there anymore. And as he recognizes you at the seams of his consciousness, he couldn’t help but loathe the world even more.

You didn’t have a clue on what he was going through. Well, maybe you did, but you had invalidated all he felt –all he feels—right in front of his face without even uttering a single word.

That was Namjoon’s truth: maybe he loves you. Because he liked how your mind works. He wanted to hear about your everydays. He wanted to learn the bits of you he couldn’t reach. The sides of you you had closed off. But it wasn’t just about you, for you had listened to him and had understood. You also made him question where he stood, and affirmed him when he’d been too confused. You’d made him feel comfortable around you. He was most of himself. And he’d felt that you liked him most as he was himself, too. Wasn’t this what it felt like to be loved? Now, it was only the end of what could have begun.

Three knocks on his door bolts him up from his thoughts.

It looked like a storm had hit him. Heck, he seemed to be brewing the storm itself for the past eleven days. And so far, he had no plans of rehabilitating. It wasn’t too obvious, but behind his eyeglasses and face mask were bloodshot eyes and a neglected skin routine.

“You look… great,” were his first words.

You were there, and you looked just the same. The same probably unbrushed hair, your mild milky soap scent, usual sneakers, a sweater he already knows, jeans he had preferred off you and actually slid them off of you several times. You were the same, as if it were just another of those casual visits you always made. You were the same, and he had slowly deteriorated as he had spent his time staring at the jagged pieces of himself.

You finally muster the courage to speak. “I don’t want you to stop disturbing me.”

He is now the one without the words. What you said hardly made sense in his head. This was not part of the pattern.

You continue, “I’m still the same, and I don’t want any fixing. But if you want to, maybe we can talk properly this time.”

“Then, come in,” were his second.

[lightchildofthespring]

Reverse dark cave

Sora, Yamato, Gabumon and Piyomon stopped falling. They were floating in a dark space. When the bird monster flapped her wings, she couldn’t move from her spot next to Sora. The girl tried to make her evolve, but her digivice didn’t react. Piyomon shot an attack upwards; her fire hovered a few meters above their heads.

A couple of meters in front of Piyomon and Sora, Gabumon floated next to Yamato. The digimon looked with concern at the boy. Yamato was staring at his arms extended in front of him, with horror. It was possible he was thinking about how he had nearly lost an arm, but far, far more likely he was worried about Takeru.

“This place…” Piyomon murmured, shivering. “It reminds me of the orb…”

“It’s going to be okay!” The girl promised, extending an arm to caress the bird’s head. “We’re together! We’ve escaped from a place like this before! As long as we have each other, we’ll be fine!”

Piyomon nodded reluctantly.

“Takeru…” Yamato murmured, looking at the void below with empty eyes. “I couldn’t do anything to protect him… I never could… ”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself!” Gabumon told him, stretching an arm in the boy’s direction. However, Yamato got out of his reach. The boy’s body was slowly descending, sinking into the darkness.

“Yamato-kun!” Sora shouted, getting no reply from him. She tried to go after him, but kept floating in the same spot. What was happening to Yamato? Where was he going? The girl remembered Koushiro’s explanation about the orb being a subjective space affected by her emotions. If the place they were in was similar to that orb, Yamato’s negativity could bring him a dire result.

“Piyomon, can you push me in Yamato-kun’s direction?” Sora asked.

“If I do that, you’ll be out of my reach! How would I get you back?!” Piyomon questioned.

“I need to get to Yamato-kun!” Sora retorted. “He’ll be in danger if I do nothing!”

“You could be in danger if I launch you in that direction!” Piyomon protested. “We don’t know where we are or what will happen if you go down there!”

“That’s exactly why I can’t let Yamato-kun out of my sight!”

“Don’t do this to me again!” The bird digimon pleaded. “Don’t make me watch as you sacrifice yourself for someone else again! I can’t… I…”

“Piyomon…” Sora muttered, pulling her partner into a hug. “It’s not like that time. I don’t want to help him because I think it’s my duty, because I want to prove something or because of my self-loathing. I won’t do that again! I promise I’ll never put you through that again!”

“But if you go-”

“I’ll come back with him!” She vowed. “There’s a person lost in destructive thoughts in need of someone to help him out. Someone who demands too much of himself… who blames himself a lot, who feels responsible for everything and doesn’t share his burden with anyone… who buries his fears… his insecurities…”

Takeru had told the girl that she reminded him of Yamato. Despite knowing the older boy for less than one day, Sora had already understood so much about him. First, she thought she could be projecting herself on him, but then realized it wasn’t the case. The reason for her to see so much of herself in Yamato was because they did share some core personality aspects, including flaws.  And it was because of  what Sora learned from her experiences with her friends and family that she didn’t want anyone else following that painful path. She wanted to help Yamato for his own sake.

“Alright, then… but you have to come back to me!” Piyomon said. “Promise you’ll come back to me!”

“That’s not a reasonable request.” Gabumon commented.

“I’ll come back to you, Piyomon.” Sora told her partner, breaking the hug to show her a reassuring smile. “We’ll all be fine and get out of here.”

Piyomon grabbed the girl and launched her in Yamato’s direction.

Yamato was sinking into the dark void, but didn’t notice it. He couldn’t see anything around him. His mind wandered through his past.

His parents argued many times, but there were occasions when they got along. They talked normally, his father told jokes, his mother and Takeru laughed at them, Yamato smiled. He believed that was the true nature of their family. His parents could disagree, but they loved each other and would make amends.  Yamato tried to make things easier for them. He helped in the house chores, asked his mother to teach him how to cook so he could help her out, and watched Takeru when his parents were busy.

He didn’t ask for help with his homework or anything else. He didn’t bother his parents with his problems in getting along with the other children in his class. Yamato strove to be as independent as possible. He wanted to be reliable like a grown-up, not only because then his parents wouldn’t worry about him, but also because if Takeru perceived him as a mature and strong person, the little boy would seek his help instead of their parents’. That way, his father and mother wouldn’t be troubled. The thought of sacrificing himself for them made him feel proud of himself.

Yamato also felt satisfaction when Takeru asked him to play along. The kid was happy, but sometimes talked to him about his concerns. The older brother assured him that everything would be alright. For a time, Yamato really believed in that. When his parents argued and Takeru cried on his lap, Yamato said that the adults would make peace with each other and their family would be together forever. The older brother was doing his part; everything should work out in the end. His words soothed Takeru, who thanked him.

But things didn’t work out in the end. When Yamato noticed it, he was standing between the two adults with a crying Takeru by his side. His parents were getting a divorce, his father was moving away, his family was breaking into two: Ishida and Takaishi. Yamato didn’t want his father to be alone, nor did he want Takeru to be away from his mother. So, he did the mature thing, again, and he kept doing it, without complaining. Not certain if it was out of obligation or out of habit, Yamato just knew that he had to sacrifice himself for their happiness. He wouldn’t let his mother think he needed her, he wouldn’t worry her.

Did Takeru think he was a liar when their parents divorced? Was Takeru disappointed at him for not stopping that from happening? Was he lonely without him around?

His father worked all day, every day. Many times, Hiroaki didn’t even come home. Other times, he came and spoke incoherent things with a sad expression. The man didn’t joke anymore. Instead, he told his son to be sure not to fall for someone incompatible with him. Hiroaki at times went to smoke on the balcony and looked at the street while bearing a lost expression. The boy knew he should be in pain, but didn’t know what to say to him. Nevertheless, he did everything to take care of his father. He cleaned, cooked and watched TV with him. However, they didn’t talk much.

Yamato didn’t talk a lot to Natsuko when she brought Takeru over. Hiroaki seemed sad with her presence, what if seeing Yamato interacting with her was painful to the man? Besides, Yamato didn’t want to give his mother the impression that he wasn’t doing great without her. What if she noticed something and became worried? She shouldn’t worry about him. Nobody should. Yamato still wanted them to think of him as mature and strong.

Most of his days were lonely. He played the harmonica, saw old photos, cooked, despite being unable to imitate his mother’s food. It became easier with time. Yamato hid his sadness so well that nobody noticed it. He should be proud of that, like he should be proud of his brother for surviving without him in the Digital World and for risking himself for the sake of rescuing Yamato. Takeru was the youngest child, in need of being protected. But in reality he was far stronger and braver than his older brother. The older brother’s sacrifices weren’t necessary. They weren’t needed, they weren’t wanted. What was the point of all that, then?

What was the point of him?

“Yamato-kun!”

That was Sora’s voice calling him. An increasing warm sensation was spreading over his hands.

“Don’t say such sad things, Yamato-kun!” She told him in a pained tone. Was he saying things aloud without noticing?

“Takeru-kun loves you a lot! Things aren’t as bad as you believe!” Sora insisted.

“It doesn’t matter.” Yamato said, staring into the darkness surrounding him. “He shouldn’t love me… nobody should… I’m such a disappointment…”

“No, you’re not!” She stated. “I might not have known you for long, but I know that you’re a caring person and that you put other people’s needs before your own! And that you try to keep a façade of being well-adjusted, so people won’t worry about you…” Sora’s voice became weaker. “You built a wall around your heart and tried to keep everybody away. You didn’t want anyone to see you crumbling in the inside, drowning in your self-deprecating thoughts… because you’re afraid of what they’d think if they saw who you really are.”

Yamato now realized that the warmth on his hands were the girl’s own trembling ones, holding him tightly. In his front, the silhouette of someone very close to him was slowly taking shape.

“How do you know…?” He asked in a whisper. “I t-thought I had hidden it… does e-everybody see through me as well? Does Takeru…?” It was getting harder for him to hold back the tears.

“For a long time, I believed that my parents… especially my Mom…” Sora hesitated for a few seconds. “She’s an Ikebana Master and I was supposed to be her heiress, but I didn’t want to be that. I thought Mom didn’t really love me… I made her into an enemy that I wanted to hate… I forced myself to be everything I thought she wasn’t, but the truth was that… I couldn’t deal with the idea that I was a disappointment to her. To think that she didn’t love me hurt so much, I continuously lied to myself… and kept on hurting myself and the people who cared about me. I felt so guilty… so ashamed…”

“But you’re strong!” Yamato protested, almost outraged. “I heard what you did for Takeru and the others! You put yourself in danger to lure that vampire away from us not long ago! You’re not… you can’t be…”

She couldn’t be both strong and fragile, virtuous and flawed, brave and scared… people weren’t like that. If you were one thing, you couldn’t be its opposite. Yamato knew that. But if it was possible, if those things weren’t mutually excluding… what would that make of him?

“My friends helped me to see that I wasn’t the despicable person I thought I was.” Sora said. “Because I understood how my way of thinking distorted reality, I considered that I could be wrong about my Mom. I talked to her about everything and she was honest with me. I finally understood how she felt and how deeply she loved me, I was so glad!”

“Are you two getting along now?” Yamato asked. “After everything… was it still possible for you two…?”

“It’s never too late when there’s love.” Sora assured.

Yamato wondered if his mother and he could have that as well. If he talked to her honestly, if he told her how much she mattered to him and how much he missed her, would she accept him? His mother could get worried… his father could not like it… would that be okay? Would they forgive him?

His thoughts were getting clearer after Sora’s words. Maybe it was time for Yamato to do something for himself.

“Maybe… I could call my mother…” He whispered.

“You should.” She encouraged him.

He could no longer stop the tears from escaping his eyes.

“It’s okay to cry.” Sora told him. “It’ll make you feel better.”

A flaming aura surrounded Sora, allowing Yamato to see her completely. She was giving him a large and beautiful smile. The flames kept on spreading, bringing light to every corner. Above them, Piyomon was flying. Fire surrounded her.

“Piyomon evolves to… BIRDRAMON! Birdramon evolves to… GARUDAMON!”

The giant digimon took Gabumon in one hand and then flew down to take Sora and Yamato in the other.

“Are you okay?” Gabumon asked him.

“I guess…” Yamato muttered, glancing at Sora, who was by his side while Garudamon flew upwards. The sight of the girl with fire in her spirit ascending to the heavens would never leave his memory.

[evadnyx]

Eev’s Bell (A Short Story)

When a man moves on to the afterlife, it is said that they hear a soothing bell chime, like a distant toll from above, as though a ringing from the Gates of Heaven.

We’re not entirely sure why we were made.

We’re magical beings, you see, and our purpose is what keeps us alive. It is now the 21st century in the humans’ sense of time and the mermaids, gargoyles, dragons, elves, and dwarfs have all vanished, along with so many others. They’ve lost their purpose in the human realm, and Echidna was commanded to extirpate her own children when the Olympians found it fit. All monsters are aware of this, and most of us have accepted that such time would befall us all one way or the other.

Our kind had come to existence around the time the humans appeared. We constantly fear that Zeus would order our mother to annihilate our kind soon but nevertheless we continue to thrive as the Fates keep our threads intact…for now.

Ha-ha. The humans are so much more pitiful though. With such a limited lifespan of only a century at most, I truly wonder how they make the most of it. We Helvs are able to live for up to ten times longer than them, and ours is a rather short lifespan already as most monsters can live up to fifty times more. Yet, the gods favor them so much. If anything, the monsters are only made to exist for these insufferable beings to slay, to capture, or to marvel upon like some sort of display!

Just how cruel must the gods be to our kind? What grave wrongdoings have done to them? Must we be treated as such, as though mere accents to spice up the lives of these easily dying fools?

The Helvs know more than any other monster how quickly these men pass on to Hades’ realm. After all, we rang the bells. We ring the bells that summon Thanatos to fetch the detached human souls before He led them to the After Life. My hatred for the humans fed my love for ringing the bells. I knew no greater pleasure than to see one less despicable soul on the face of Gaea. I felt a sense of pride whenever it was my bell that summoned the great Thanatos. The satisfying chime of the protrusion on my back reverberates to my ears down to the core of my being, making my body hiss like a tub being filled with steaming water after eagerly waiting all day for the onsen to open.

Yet, these pleasurable moments came so few to me. I’ve now lived two centuries with my mother and father who were now both at their ninth. We lived under the floorboards of a human’s vacation home. Being far from the hustle and the bustle of busy city streets (where so many humans die almost everyday) has made my bell ring but only once.

My mother insisted that we live in such a decrepit place. “It makes it easier for us to hide,” she’d said. “And we’re always guaranteed to be around a human from within a hundred meters if we stay here.”

I agreed with her on the part that we don’t have to deal with so many repugnant human beings everyday (other than the part that monsters must remain in hiding in this age…or else meet Echidna) BUT it made me feel so unfulfilled! After tasting the pleasure of my bell ringing a century ago, I’ve since felt like an addict who has been deprived of his dose.

I starve.

I thirst.

Each ticking second from that god-awful clock in the living room made my heart race in anticipation, made my eardrums crave that sweet sound which encapsulated me in sublime ecstasy just one. More. Time.

However, they did not want to leave. There was no convincing them.

“These are trying times, Eev. Monsters aren’t allowed to be as rampant as we were back then,” Mother said.

“We may be small, but the fact that we look like tiny humans will wreak chaotic curiosity if humans find out about our existence--or even worse--capture and experiment on us!” Father replied.

“Oh, golly! Anything but that! That would guarantee our species’ annihilation! That’s why we must lay low, Eev. Let us stay here…where we are safer.”

“There are no safe places anymore!” I exclaimed. “Why must we hide? Why must we hide?! WHY?! I refuse! I will not stay here and rot!”

I ran out of the house and into the forest. Far, far away, I thought. I would go to a place plagued with dying humans…

As I kept running, my parents running and shouting after me gradually fade in the distance behind me.

My feet started to feel like lead; my breath ragged.

“Eev!”

I was forced awake when I heard my name. Where was I?

“Oh, thank goodness,” my mother gasped and hugged me tightly.

“Mom?”

“Don’t you EVER do that again, young lady! If it weren’t for the kind forest spirits that found you collapsed on the ground, you could’ve died.”

Oh. Now I remember. I had run away from home out of frustration. I had forgotten the fact that being out of 100 meters from a human weakened us and made us slowly die. The thought made me bitter. I hated the humans so much I wish they’d just all die, yet I was ironically dependent on them to stay alive.

“Yes, Mother. I won’t do it again,” I answered, while hot tears fell down my cheeks.

The days passed by without a hitch (nor a ring of a bell). I delighted my parents, of course, that I had suddenly become an obedient daughter--yet they were left unaware of what I did behind their backs.

The human vacation home where we resided had only one occupant--a maid, who spent her days routinely cleaning the whole house if she wasn’t eating or sleeping. A delivery man occasionally visited to supply her with food (from which we stole during the night) but lately (perhaps because she was now a middle-aged woman) she took naps more frequently, not to mention she slept longer for every passing day. We lurked and stole food during the night and slept during the day, but as of late I had been secretly observing the human as my parents slept. I have attempted about seven times now, to try and kill her--all in hopes of making my bell ring--but to no avail. She had managed to dodge every single time.

The days have begun to get warmer again. Summer. I’ve lived for so long a time I’ve lost track of the summers that passed me by. It’s been the 23rd day since I started keeping an eye on the human until it hit me: SUMMER!

Summer has finally arrived again! The time when it wasn’t just this measly and old yet does-not-easily-die hag who was in the house. The time when the vacation home was teeming with humans. The time when my bell first rang.

Ah, that heavenly memory! It was time for it yet again! Year after year I’d pray to the gods for summer to quickly arrive, and year after year I was always left disappointed…but the ringing memory thumped in my ears so loudly whenever summer was around. The memory of the sound would ring so clearly in my head I’d begin to doubt if it was now actually real, and that kept me all hyped up.

It was a woman of old age, the human my bell rang for. She had come to the vacation home that summer a century ago with her children, grandchildren, and a lot more relatives. She was constantly sitting on a chair with wheels while it was maneuvered by a young lady. I could remember the downcast teary expression of the young lady as she gazed down on the old woman, but the old one always had on her face a smile--a genuine smile--I could sense it.

3 A.M. My bell rang.

It felt like every nerve of my being was jolted by a thousand bolts of lightning. It was painful. I cried and wailed, unaware of what was happening to me…

“The pain will pass, Eev. Hold on,” my Mother whispered soothingly as she embraced me tightly.

“This is what we’ve been created by the gods to do. Endure it,” my Father added, his reassuring hand gripping my shoulder tightly.

I’m a Helv, I’m a Helv, I thought over and over in my head to try to forget the pain. I’m a Helv and this is my purpose.

After what felt like forever, the bell attached on my back stopped ringing and my whole body relaxed. I felt like jelly and I collapsed on my Mother’s arms. She made me sit down and said, “Tomorrow in this same hour, your bell would ring again and your purpose would be complete. Rest now, my dear, and do not fret. The second won’t feel anything like this.”

Soon, my Father moved me to lie down on the mattress. I tried to close my eyes to sleep but I felt so awake. I couldn’t name the sensation at first but I soon realized that I was subconsciously craving for the second bell, even if the first was unbearably painful. Even if I didn’t know for sure how the second one would feel. Even if I could barely twist or turn in bed with the unfathomable pain that still lingered.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, my body aching with pain and longing.

Tick.

Tock.

How long have I been waiting?

How much longer still?

Without warning, all pain was gone from me. I stood up, astonished from my newfound strength.

That was before I caught sight of the tall dark hooded figure looming over me.

Thanatos.

In the flesh.

I was finally seeing the god of death Himself. I hated the humans. I hated the gods. But Thanatos was different. I held so much respect for Him. It was because although the gods spoke of favor to men, they hardly interacted with them. However, Thanatos did that. He knew the aggravation of actually dealing with humans like we did. Everyday. If I’m not mistaken, he probably does not rest even for a second before another person dies elsewhere in the world…

He looked at me for a moment longer before he proceeded to the old woman’s room. That’s when I realized the other humans were wailing in grief, and I knew it was that lady who always pushed the old woman’s chair whose cries reverberated throughout the household.

It was but a few minutes later when Thanatos walked out of that room, the old woman’s soul in tow and in mere moment they’d vanished.

It was done.

I had fulfilled my purpose--on to the next soul.

Suddenly, my mother came rushing to me. The sight of the god had almost made me forget I wasn’t the only Helv here.

“Did you see Him, Mother? Did you see Him, Father?” I asked, unable to contain my bliss.

“We’ve seen Him countless times before,” Mother replied. “But only the Helv whose bell rings can see Him when He arrives, Eev.”

“You’ve done well, my dear,” my Father told me.

To lay eyes on Thanatos gave us Helvs inexplicable rapture and fulfillment. It was Thanatos that blessed Helvs’ souls, it was the sight of Him that made us anticipate and hunger to see another man die. What I would give to have a human die today!

Tires screeched on the pavement outside the house.

They have arrived!

I ran outside, not daring to wake my parents up and as soon as I stepped outside I hid in the bushes. I watched closely as they filed out of the car one by one. First, three kids came rushing out and ran so fast into the house. Next, a couple, the man caressing his partner’s bulbous belly. Two teenage girls giggling at each other and one teenage boy staring and fiddling intensely at a box he held with both hands. Lastly, two more couples in their middle ages.

The van they rode must’ve been rented, because soon enough it drove away.

My heart sank.

This summer yet again was a disappointment.

I sneaked back into our house under the floorboards, my parents already awake.

“They’re here now, aren’t they? How many children came with them?” Mother asked.

“Yes. There were three.”

“Three!” she exclaimed. “We must be very careful now. The children are able to sense our presence. Thankfully, we’ve stored enough food to last us the summer. Do NOT leave this room now, Eev. Do you understand? We must hide until they leave,” my Mother ranted on.

“Yes, mother,” I said and sighed a little.

My father noticed that and told me, “Don’t worry, Eev. You’ve barely been a Helv for long. This might not be the year your bell rings again but it soon will. I promise.”

I just gave him a small smile and we all went to bed. It was still morning, after all.

The days passed without events and for a moment I’d even forgotten the feeling of anticipating my bells’ ringing. I had to wait another summer to be fired up again.

All we did now is eat and sleep, and sometimes cleaning up our abode. Summers bitterly reminded us that this is how lowly the monsters have become: creatures forced in hiding.

Day breaks again and we get ready for bed. I hope I dream of that day again, I thought.

However, before I could shut my eyes, a sharp pain jabbed my back. It was 12:51.

“Ack!” I screamed in pain.

Pain.

Pain!

My bell was ringing! IT. WAS. RINGING!

I was still screaming even as my mother gave me cloth to bite on and muffle my cries.

It was no longer as painful as the first time around, but my longing for the second bell only grew stronger.

As the ringing ceased to a stop, I was finally able to try and think of who was about to die. The children were healthy. The teenagers, too. One of the middle-aged ones must be suffering a terminal disease, I thought. Eaither way, it didn’t matter.

I would see Thanatos again, I thought as I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep.

Sirens wailing woke me up. It was 12:36, only a few more minutes before my second bell would ring. My strength still hadn’t returned to me, but I still hadn’t figured out whose death I was ringing for. It bothered me so much I stood up from my bed and walked limply but quietly.

I saw a couple of medics rush through the front door and enter the only lit room in the house at this hour. It was the same room where the old woman had died a century ago.

“We must do it here now or she’s never going to make it!” I heard from inside the room.

“I don’t trust you. Their lives are at stake!” another man replied in an exasperated tone.

“Even if we rush her to the hospital now, it’s too high a risk. The hospital’s too far away, sir, please,” the first responded.

“Please…please just…save her,” a woman’s weak voice said in between sobs.

12:40.

For a few moments no one spoke and only the sound of sure footsteps, wheels, and metals clinking against metals could be heard. They had probably began operating now, but my head still couldn’t figure out who was going to die tonight. And why did the second man keep saying “they”?

No.

My face paled.

No. No. No. Not this.

NOT THIS!

Unannounced, my second bell rang and my strength came rushing back. In an instant, Thanatos was right in front of me.

I did not feel bliss. I did not feel a single emotion akin to the first time I saw Him. For the first time, I felt sorry for a human. A human! Can you believe it?!

For the first time, my hatred for the humans was replaced by my respect for all creatures under the gods’ reign. Just as we were unfairly judged by Echidna if we didn’t follow the gods’ will, the humans were faced with their own unfair judgment as well. I was overcome with despair.

I went down on my knees before Thanatos and barely managed to utter, “My lord…won’t you spare this life?”

He looked at me for quite a long time before he spoke, “Not even Time stops for Death.”

Helpless, I could only look on as He entered the room.

I listened closely, still hoping to hear it.

But there was no baby’s cry. Just a woman’s tormented scream.

 Author’s Note:

This story made numerous references to creatures from Greek mythology and the Japanese word onsen. Onsen was deliberately mentioned in the story to give a hint that the story takes place in Japan. Also, the idea of the Helvs was derived from the Japanese animated film, “The Secret World of Arrietty” (Studio Ghibli).

Onsen – Japanese hot spring

Echidna – a half-woman, half-snake creature in Greek mythology; also known as the “mother of all monsters” as she gave birth to most of the Greek mythical creatures

Olympians – a group of 12 great gods (including Zeus) that are above all the other gods hence their word must absolutely be followed by the lesser gods

Zeus – the King of the gods; he is the highest deity in Greek mythology

Gaea – in Greek mythology, she is the personification of Earth itself

Thanatos – god of Death; although Hades is the ruler of the Underworld in Greek mythology, it is the god Thanatos that oversees the souls that have passed onto the After Life