#How He prospered His Business and the Town

[lesmisscraper]

The Change of Montreuil-sur-Mer after Monsieur Madeleine arrived. Volume 1, Book 5, Chapter 2.

Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.

[yuujispinkhair]

CAUGHT

You don't know when things changed or why, but at some point, you started to run not because you wanted to escape but because you wanted Sukuna to catch you.

King of Curses!Sukuna x Reader (female). 3k words. 18+, smut, dubcon/noncon in the beginning because Reader was given to Sukuna as a gift against her will. Later it turns into primal play, which both enjoy. Getting chased and caught by Sukuna, rough sex, light choking, Sukuna bites Reader, creampie, squirting, breeding. Sukuna is portrayed in human form (only two arms etc). Minors don't interact. Dividers by me.

This story is inspired by this beautiful fanart by my lovely friend @sweetlandspos. Thank you for blessing me with this sexy picture!

Your breath comes out in soft puffs as you run light-footedly through the forest, only wrapped in a thin, almost see-through white silk robe. The skin on your arms is raised in goosebumps, but not because you are cold. It's the thrill of the chase, anticipating the big, terrifying King to catch you and take you. The thrill of not knowing when exactly he hunts you down and overpowers you. Your lips open in an excited chuckle. Your nipples are stiff and rub against the delicate fabric of your robe. Desire is pulsing hotly between your legs.

You have lost count of how many times you have already run from Sukuna, only to get captured again and brought back to his shrine.

In the beginning, you ran because you were truly trying to escape from this powerful, scary man you had been given to as a gift. Ryomen Sukuna, The King of Curses. The most powerful sorcerer to ever live. Everyone groveled in fear when Sukuna visited a town. He could easily kill anyone and ground the whole place to dust with just a flick of his hand. So, people tried to please him by offering their loyalty, making sacrifices in his name, and bringing him gifts.

And you were one of those gifts.

The only daughter of your town's most prosperous merchant. Your father has always been someone who knows how to negotiate, and he took his chance when he saw Sukuna marching toward your town. He had you dressed up in your most beautiful clothes, your skin adorned with gold and jewels, and then you were led toward the man known as The King of Curses.

Sukuna was pleased with the gift. He placed a large, strong hand on your upper arm and pulled you to his side as a broad smirk spread over his striking features with the black markings. He took you with him and told you he would make you his little bride one day if you behaved well enough. Until then, you would be his favorite pastime.

Your town still stands. No blood was shed. The only sacrifice that was made was you.

Maybe it was selfish, but you were scared of this powerful, cruel man and angry that your father had just offered you to Sukuna as if you were a thing, forcing you to give yourself to Sukuna almost every night so he could find relief in your body after a busy day.

And so you did the selfish thing and tried to escape. You sneaked out at dusk because it was the easiest time to slip away, and there was still enough light so you could find your way through the forest surrounding Sukuna's shrine.

The first time you ran, you came as far as the first line of trees, already thinking you made it. But then you heard the heavy footsteps behind you.

He didn't run. He just walked casually as if he was in no hurry at all. Just a leisurely stroll through the forest. It somehow made things even more terrifying. Only hearing the slow but heavy footsteps of this huge and dangerous man. Hearing the twigs snap beneath his feet. And his low, velvety voice calling out to you, taunting you, making fun of you for thinking you could run from him.

"Are you a little bunny? How amusing that you think you can outrun me. Come on, little bunny, give me your best!"

Sukuna laughed. And you ran as fast as your feet could carry you, your panicky breaths loud in your ear, your heart pounding so fast that you felt delirious. Fear was making the hair on your neck stand up, adrenaline rushing in your veins, making you run faster than you ever had before in your life.

But, of course, it wasn't fast enough. Sukuna let you run yourself to exhaustion that night, always casually strolling behind you as he basked in your fear. An experienced hunter, confident and dangerous.

When he finally had enough of the little cruel game, he snapped his fingers, and you only managed to let out a terrified squeal as you felt his magic wrap around you, paralyzing you. He made time stand still just with a snap of his fingers! His power terrified you, made you weep tearlessly as you stood there frozen in midstep, trapped helplessly as the King of Curses slowly walked up to you.

Sukuna's voice was dripping with amusement and sadistic joy when he stopped behind you,

"Oh, little one, I didn't take you for a playful one. But I am not complaining. This was a nice little distraction. But it's enough now. We're returning to the shrine, and I will show you your place."

He snapped his fingers again, and you stumbled forward, gasping as you caught your balance and instinctively started running again. You only got a few steps away before a pair of muscular arms wrapped around you and lifted you from the ground, even as you screamed and struggled. It was a futile attempt, of course. The King had caught you. You stood no chance.

Sukuna wasn't gentle when he threw you over one of his broad shoulders and carried you back to the shrine. And he also wasn't gentle when he pressed you down on his bed later that night and took you with even more force than usual.

One of his large hands captured both of your wrists and pinned them above your head while his heavy, muscular body pressed you down, knocking the air out of you with every hard thrust. You screamed when Sukuna sank his teeth into your flesh, deep enough to leave his mark on you forever. He healed the wound afterward, but only so much that it would still leave a scar, marking you as his for the rest of your life. A reminder of your failed attempt at running from him.

Maybe for anyone else, it would have been enough reason to give up and be obedient. But not for you. Only three nights later, you sneaked out again, trying your luck again.

And again and again after that. And Sukuna always captured you again.

You don't know when things changed or why, but at some point, you started to run not because you wanted to escape but because you wanted Sukuna to catch you. You wanted him to drag you back to his shrine and fuck you hard into his bed, showing you where you belonged.

"See, that's your place. Under me, stuffed to the hilt with my cock and my seed. You are mine. You are going nowhere. You cannot run from me, little one."

But you took his punishment all too willingly. And all his words did was make you throb around him needily, reaching your high even before him.

Was this still considered punishment when the one getting punished enjoyed it? When you squealed delightedly into the silk pillow that Sukuna pressed your face into as he took you from behind? When you creamed all over him when his hand tangled painfully in your hair and he fucked you savagely, with hard, brutal thrusts, while his sweat and spit dripped onto your naked skin?

He said you could never run from him, and yet you tried it all the time. It became a game. A game of catch. Sukuna was the hunter, and you were the very willing prey.

Your heart still raced wildly anytime you got chased by Sukuna. All your senses were heightened. Your veins sang with adrenaline as you ran through the forest, but your skin was also tingling with excitement, and your thighs were slick from the warm wetness between them, gathering there in anticipation of Sukuna claiming you again.

But you weren't the only one who enjoyed it. As tired as Sukuna sometimes looked after a day of meeting with people who wanted something from him, he was always fully alert and enthusiastic when it came to chasing you through the forest.

His steps were light, his laughter ecstatic, and his beautiful face alight with excitement. Just like his body was brimming with desire. You could feel his hardness pressing against you anytime he captured you, just as aroused as you were. The chase awakened something feral in both of you.

Sometimes, he didn't even wait until he carried you home but just took you right there on the forest floor, grunting in your ear as he mounted you like a wild animal, making you cry out and scream your lust into the night.

And now you are running through the forest in your thin silk robe, a delicious mixture of fear and arousal making your blood sing. Sukuna is taking his time today, and it makes the excitement even stronger.

As always, when you run from Sukuna, your senses are sharpened. Your muscles are taut, your body alert with the thrill of the hunt. He could be on you at any moment.

You wonder what he will do tonight. Use his magic or his strength? Will he tackle you to the ground and ram his cock into your heat, unwilling to wait? Or will he carry you back to the shrine, taking his sweet time to feel you kick and squirm in his strong arms, playfully fighting him, making both of you even more riled up, until it ends in a frenzied fuck in Sukuna's bed?

You strain your ears, trying to catch the sound of Sukuna's heavy footsteps. But there is nothing.

You frown. Where is he? Did he not notice you leaving? You haven't been exactly silent. You never are nowadays. But even when you really tried to escape and sneaked out without making any noise, he still got wind of it and tracked you down.

So why isn't he behind you?

You have almost reached the other end of the forest, and you slow down to a walking pace, looking over your shoulder expectantly. Hopefully. Longingly.

But there is no sign of Sukuna.

Does he maybe want to drag it out? Wait until you are about to set foot out of the forest, just so he can jump you and drag you back? You have reached the edge of the forest and come to a complete halt.

Your throat feels tight, and your heart is beating way too rapidly. But it's not the thrill of the chase that fills you with fear.

He isn't coming.

You hover uncertainly at the edge of the forest, not knowing what to do. You could keep running. You could make it to the river, steal one of the fisherboats, and disappear forever. Just like you originally planned when you first tried to run from Sukuna. You could do it now. You could be free.

But the problem is you don't want to be.

You let out a shaky breath and turn around. This time, you don't run from Sukuna but towards him. Towards his shrine. Towards his home. Your home.

At least, you hope it still is. Or did he get tired of your constant running? Of your stupid games? Is that why he didn't come to catch you tonight? Did he decide he doesn't want a woman like you who always causes trouble? Did he decide he doesn't want you to be his little bride anymore?

A desperate sob escapes your lips. Your feet move even faster now over the soft forest floor, your heart palpitating with fear because you are scared you are too late and Sukuna won't let you come back to him.

It's later than usual, the night is already falling, wrapping the forest into darkness. But you have walked this path so often that you can easily find your way through the tall trees.

Apart from the sound of your harsh breaths and footsteps, the forest is eerily silent. It's strange, you think. One would assume that you would encounter many forest animals at this time, but you can't see or hear any. It's almost as if they are hiding because they sense a much more dangerous predator nearby.

And then, completely out of the blue, a strong arm wraps around your neck, stopping your run abruptly.

Your piercing scream echoes through the forest. Your heart jumps up to your throat, hammering wildly, stars dancing before your eyes from the sudden shock of getting grabbed like that so unexpectedly. Your hands come up instinctively, trying to pry the large hand off your skin, fingernails digging sharply into it, but to no avail.

A familiar low voice announces smugly,

"Caught you, little one."

"S... Sukuna! I didn't hear you coming!"

Sukuna's hand tightens around your throat, squeezing it lightly, making even more adrenaline flood your already overly sensitive body. But it mixes with relief. He came to catch you! He didn't get tired of you!

He laughs softly, a sound almost like a purr, making the hairs on your arms stand up.

"Hmm, I was just watching tonight. And I saw the most curious thing. A little bunny that wasn't running from me but towards me."

Sukuna's low voice sounds amused. You feel his tall, broad body press against your back. Feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of your robe. He is naked from the waist up, you realize.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, and your vision is blurry. Arousal pulses between your legs, wet and hot, filling you with an all-consuming, primal need for the man behind you. The man who was stalking you through this dark forest. Watching you. Hunting you like prey. The man who knows exactly what you did.

You feel shy suddenly. Caught, but not just in the physical sense. Sukuna knows. He knows that you weren't trying to escape from him. He knows that you so desperately want to be his. He heard you sob when you thought he didn't come for you. He saw you stumble back towards the shrine. Back to him.

It makes you feel exposed. Makes you nervous and light-headed. Your voice comes out hoarsely when Sukuna loosens the tight grip around your neck enough to allow you to speak,

"I must have lost orientation."

You can't see it, but you can hear the smirk in Sukuna's velvety voice,

"You think you are so sly, huh, little one? Do you really think I don't know what you are doing?"

His low voice drops to a seductive whisper when he adds,

"This little bunny wants to get caught."

A large, strong hand twists in the front of your robe, and then he tears it off you in one fluid motion. You gasp when the cold air brushes over your naked skin. But Sukuna's large hand immediately comes up again to grope your breasts, cupping them greedily, squeezing them, his long pointy nails scratching over your hardened peaks teasingly, making you whimper with lust.

The night air is chilly, but Sukuna's tall, broad body is warm, and the kisses he trails from your neck to your shoulder are searing hot, just like the desire coursing through your body.

You moan needily, pressing your naked body against the massive man behind you, feeling his warm skin on yours and the huge, hot hardness between his legs pressing against you, pulsing with arousal.

Your legs are shaking when one of Sukuna's large hands trails down your naked body and pushes between your thighs, cupping your cunt for a moment, just holding you, one hand around your throat, the other on your most intimate body part. Truly caught.

He laughs softly when his long fingers dip into your warm cunt, feeling your creamy wetness, evidence of how much his little bunny loves to get chased by him.

Relief and exhilaration flood your senses. Sukuna caught you! He didn't give up on you! He still wants to keep you!

As if reading your mind, Sukuna leans down, his lips brushing over your hair,

"You were so scared I wouldn't come, huh?"

The words are smug, but his voice is full of something else. Something warm, like affection.

He pulls his hand away from your dripping cunt, letting the night air kiss your swollen clit while Sukuna pushes his trousers down. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming out in short, weak huffs, and a soft whimper falls from your lips.

And then Sukuna snaps his hips, and a loud gasp escapes your mouth when he pushes the swollen head of his heavy cock into you, stretching your tight cunt open around his manhood. With another roll of his strong hips, he claims you completely, burying himself fully in your tight heat.

He lets out a low groan, his strong arms tightening around your much smaller body, pulling you against him, holding you in place as he ruts into you, taking you while standing up, just like he caught you.

Sukuna's low moans grow louder, just like the filthy wet noises of him claiming his prey, mounting you from behind right here where he caught you, filling the otherwise silent forest with the animalistic, primal sounds of fucking.

You push against Sukuna eagerly, moaning when he snaps his hips even faster, fucking you hard and deep. Giving in to his desires after holding back for so long while he stalked you through this forest.

You reach behind you, needing to touch him, whimpering when you get a hold of Sukuna's taut backside, digging your fingernails into the firm muscles, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin. Your eyes fall shut, and you lean against him, taking his cock eagerly, mewling and sobbing as the pleasure builds deep inside you.

You feel Sukuna tense up behind you. He growls as his hips buck and he fills you with his hot seed, thick spurt after spurt. And your lustful cries echo through the forest as you reach your high, too, clenching around Sukuna's length, milking him greedily. Your arousal sprays everywhere, over Sukuna's cock and onto the forest floor beneath you, while you cry out his name over and over again like a prayer.

Sukuna doesn't let go of you, even after you both found completion. He is still behind you, naked, buff body pressed against yours, his thick cock still deep inside you, breeding you, showing you that you are still his little bride, pulsing the last drops of his orgasm into you while the first rivulets of his warm seed already run down your thighs.

You lean back against him, pulse fluttering, feeling ecstatic after the hunt and after coming undone with your King in the middle of the dark forest.

You can feel Sukuna's broad, muscular chest rising and falling with every breath. His hand around your neck has loosened its tight grip, and the long fingers with the sharp nails lightly caress your skin. His other hand comes up to cup your forehead, his fingers tugging on your hair, pulling your head back against him.

You are so entirely at his mercy, caught in his strong arms, stuffed with his thick cock. But you feel no fear. You know you are safe in your captor's arms.

Sukuna leans down, humming softly before he presses a possessive yet tender kiss into your hair.

"I will always come to catch you and bring you back home, my little bride, no matter how often you run."

And instead of feeling scared by his promise, a pleased smile lifts your lips.

HE MAKES ME FERAL!! 😭😭

I would be very willing to be Sukuna's little bride and his beloved prey, which he chases through the woods ;)

Thank you so much for this sexy pic, Émilie!! I saw it, and my mind went crazy 💗 I will think about this forever! I hope I could make you smile with this little story!!

And thank you so much to everyone, who read this story!! I hope you enjoyed getting chased by Sukuna ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[owl-bones]

Hey, I got a question for ya.Who THA HECK ARE EOS AND HELIOS?! I tried to found their story but I didn’t managed to find it…And since you’re their creator…could you explain ??? 👁️👄👁️

Thanks for your time (if you founded the time to read this) and (in any cases) have a good day ✌︎('ω')✌︎

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backstory/lore/personalities below the cut! it's. longgggg. VERY long. slkdfjlsdk like over 3k words

Backstory (personalities at the bottom)

Nim was a goddess of emotions, tasked with protecting the worlds made by creators throughout the multiverse. Eventually she yearned to create something of her own, but couldn't make something out of nothing-- so she used herself. She made two beings to keep each other company when she was gone, and used what remained of herself to become a tree to give them shelter.

The beings she made were too young and weak to harness her power in its entirety, so she sealed her power away in the fruits of the tree she became so they could grow into her strength slowly.

The beings were Dream and Nightmare, two halves of her whole.

It continues similarly to Dreamtale-- overtime the tree flourishes and the skeletons slowly grow up together. A village is built nearby and, over decades, becomes a busy town. The child guardians are mostly left alone as the people don't understand them and they keep to themselves, but there are many rumors and myths that develop about the tree they guard. One such rumor is that the tree is the reason the town develops so successfully and quickly. Over generations the guardians are a constant, never aging (truthfully just very slowly) and the mythos surrounding them slowly begins to warp.

People get used to their presence and seek them out more often, and as the details about their guardianship and abilities begins to spread more and more rumors develop.

Dream is outgoing and cheery. He's personable and warm and easy to get along with. The townspeople quickly adopt him like a stray cat, and he's given gifts when he visits and treated kindly. He's called things like "little guardian" and "angel" and the like. He soaks up this attention and praise like a plant hungry for the sun's light and, over time, visits more and more often.

Nightmare is more wary and shy, but strikingly intelligent. He's incredibly protective of the tree of emotions, and rarely leaves. It's more than a magic tree; it's their home and history. A hidden library, the sum of all of Nim's knowledge and life experiences, rests within the tree's broad hollow trunk. There's room enough for dozens, if not hundreds of books, and a place for the twins to sleep and hide away. He's dedicated his life to knowing as much as he can about their long-silent mother and their duties as guardians and is very protective of the knowledge. This makes him more enigmatic to the townsfolk, and people are known to be afraid of the unknown. He's quickly dismissed as the ruder sibling, and shunned. Not that he minds.

Dream isn't as concerned with their history-- he's far more interested in the present and future. He's found himself enamored with the town and how it develops; how he's watched children age and have families of their own, how more buildings are built to spread the town further and further. He knows everyone and everyone knows him.

They are young teens at this point. A couple hundred years old but still maturing and growing. As they've aged the tree has lost fruit; the apples drop to the ground and disappear when they're picked up as the twins absorb them to age into their powers.

But prosperity doesn't last forever, and the tree held no real power over the town's success. Soon the town finds itself in trouble-- a drought, an oncoming war, it's not important. What's important is they cling to their superstitions and fears and try to find a scapegoat. Nightmare is that scapegoat, keeping their salvation from them. They haven't been taking proper care of the tree, that's why there's fewer fruit. It's their fault.

If the town can get to the apples the twins protect, maybe they can use them to help themselves. Maybe they can plant more magic trees to increase their prosperity, or their warriors can eat them and gain their strength. They don't know anything about the tree's true nature and don't care to listen to either Dream or Nightmare when they ask for the guardians' boons.

The townspeople aren't dissuaded, and instead turn to manipulation. If Dream and Nightmare won't give them their blessing, they will simply have to take what they need. The guardians are children, anyway. What do they know about the world and politics of adults?

They know they can't get Nightmare away from the tree, but they can at least lure Dream away. He's offered tea and treats by a trusted villager, unaware it contains a sedative. He falls asleep and they go to work-- dozens of villagers go to the tree and start picking the golden apples. They ignore the black apples, not interested in something appearing 'tainted'. Nightmare tries to stop them but things get violent and he's downed with a blow to his skull. He's still young, weak, inexperienced, and hopelessly outnumbered. He's pinned and forced to watch as his mother's body, his home, is defiled.

The townsfolk didn't count on Dream being resistant to the sedative, however. Despite the amount of sleep-inducing herbs he consumed he's awake within a few minutes. He's groggy and aware something is wrong, but he's up.

Concerned and distraught he's been poisoned by someone he trusted, he returns home to find his brother injured and restrained and the tree devoid of golden apples.

The townspeople have decided to cut down the tree without removing the black apples, thinking that will remove the problematic negativity and they can replant the golden ones to only have positive trees. They're already partway through the trunk, and that's what spurs Dream into action.

They haven't noticed him yet and he starts picking up the apples to protect them-- but they disappear as soon as they're in his arms. They're his power by birthright, and absorbing them is what he's meant to do. It's only natural that his power would want to go where it belongs. At first it's warm and he feels stronger and more aware of what's going on, but the more apples he picks up the more his body aches and starts to burn.

His vessel was never meant to contain this much power this quickly, and as he desperately tries to save the apples it starts to break at the seems. His bones crack, the injuries filling with golden light holding him together, but he doesn't stop.

The townsfolk notice him, finally, and stop cutting at the tree to stop him. But it's too late. He's 'consumed' enough now that he's strong enough to keep them back with a magic barrier. He could stop now, talk them down from their frenzy, but... he doesn't want to. Despite the pain of his body breaking and barely keeping itself together, the power he now burns with is... good. His senses feel sharper, he's stronger, and he's brimming with energy. He keeps absorbing the apples.

His power overflows and can't be contained within him anymore, and golden light seeps out of his spine. The people always called him an 'angel', and this moment is where that myth solidifies itself. They aren't wings, not yet, but the amorphous magic light at his back is enough to make the villagers back away. This is the divine salvation they've been waiting for, right? An angel come down to lead them to safety?

But Dream isn't feeling like the happy-go-lucky child they knew him as. He's feeling an all consuming rage like he has never felt before. His emotions are much stronger than they've ever been, burning inside him. And not only that-- the vague impressions of people's emotions he could always feel are clear as day now. He can see exactly what the people are feeling.

Fear. Anxiety. Anger. And... hope.

That hope stands out to him. It doesn't sting like the other feelings steeped around the tree right now. It's warm and comforting and he wants more.

But first he needs to free his brother. Nightmare is falling unconscious and his vision is blurry, but he recognizes Dream. Dream does his best to heal him, a skill he's been practicing as his magic slowly got stronger. Now, though, his magic is much more powerful. It's raw and out of control and the positivity burns Nightmare with its force, scorching his armrs. Dream stops almost immediately, but the damage is done.

Nightmare was already weak, but now he's on the brink of dusting. The faint wisps of Nim left in the tree uses the very last bit of her magic to turn him to stone to help him recover.

Confronted by the loss of his brother, convinced it was his fault and his magic that did it, Dream shuts down. He goes fully into denial. Nightmare is just resting, he's fine, everything's fine. He can fix everything.

He needs to get rid of the townspeople. They're crowding him and his brother and they need to leave immediately. Shockingly, they obey. Dream is left alone with the statue of his brother.

It's not long before he gets a craving for more of that positivity he sensed. When he returns to the town, suspicious and still angry, he finds everything strikingly normal. Everyone is going about their business as if nothing had happened and he's greeted warmly (if a little nervously). There's more hope coming from everyone and it soothes the ache in his chest.

Dream overhears people whispering about him, calling him the angel again, and he starts putting the pieces together. The head of the town meets with him and suddenly he's not treated like a petulant child, but he's given information.

The town's issues are explained to him. The people are putting their hopes and dreams on his shoulders. There's expectations and they want things from him despite what they have done. And Dream finds himself answering the call, drunk on the power and feeling seen for the first time.

The people weren't acting maliciously, he tells himself. They were just misguided. They didn't know what they were doing, just like how they thought he didn't know what he was doing. He's the guardian of positivity. If they want prosperity and joy again, he can help them. He can guide them to what they want. They just have to stay away from the half-felled tree and do as he says.

As it turns out, the people are more than willing to stay far away from the negativity-steeped tree and follow his orders. They very quickly fall into line and worship him. He has no idea how to lead or manage a town, but nobody dares speak a word against him. Not that they need to. Despite the continuing issues they face, no townsperson can say that they're unhappy with Dream in charge. The opposite, in fact.

Since he came to be with them permanently everyone has found themselves filled with nothing but hope and happiness. They work tirelessly without complaint. Under his guidance the town expands even further over the decades until it's a fortified, bustling kingdom.

But Dream grows bored managing the mortals. He still ages slowly, and now an adult and having overseen a kingdom and its silly politics for generations, he wants more. He's grown properly into his powers and the magic at his back is now properly shaped like wings, like the 'angel' he is.

Nightmare used to speak of the other worlds the books within the tree would describe, and Dream for the first time in centuries seeks out his old home. He finds the books, worn but still intact, and learns of the multiverse and the balance.

It's then that he decides, like the expansion of the kingdom and his influence, to bring his light and positivity to other worlds.

It's another century or two after Dream leaves that Nightmare's petrification wears off. The apples have all fallen from the tree over the years, and he's slowly come into his powers himself. And yet he's still so... fatigued. Like something is sapping his strength no matter how much he rests.

The incident feels like it only happened moments ago for him, and yet he's alone. The library of his childhood is decrepit and the books are in poor condition and barely salvageable. His brother is gone, and when he goes looking for him... the town is a massive kingdom. White and gold and successful, flying golden banners and proclaiming Dream as their patron guardian.

But he's not there, either. Nightmare spends time in the kingdom working as a farmhand just trying to understand what exactly has happened and changed in the time he's been away. It's not easy finding information about his brother that's not glorified, and being an 'outsider' makes it even harder. The myth of the guardian of negativity has faded with time, his status as Dream's brother merely a footnote in the story, and for the first time in his life Nightmare is treated rather... normally by those around him.

It's a couple years later that Nightmare finally comes into his own and realizes the extent of Dream's control over both their original home, and the worlds he's visited since. He remembers reading about the careful balance he and Dream were meant to preserve... but he can tell that something isn't right. Somewhere along the way, growing up alone and worshipped and corrupted by the positivity he was meant to guard, Dream has lost himself. He's 'fixing' every AU he can, making them positive and trying to drive the balance as far in his favor as possible.

Nightmare leaves his home, alone and unsure of himself, and quickly finds himself lost in a sea of worlds that hate him. Due to his efforts to right the balance, he is painted a villain. He's used to it, and yet it still hurts. The hope that it was just that village that hated him quickly turns into the realization he is doomed to be hated wherever he goes, no matter how correct his actions.

The first time he runs into Dream, it seems like everything is going to be okay. They're together again, nothing bad can happen to them now that they're both powerful. But Dream's aura is draining to Nightmare, and their goals are too far apart. Dream's joy at the realization his brother isn't dead quickly turns to petulance when Nightmare insists he stops disrupting the balance and returns the AUs he's altered to their proper states.

They argue, and despite how much it hurts they go their separate ways. Nightmare continues to try and fix things, coming into conflict with Dream every so often, but he's outnumbered again. Dream has hundreds of people in his employ, sent out to AUs constantly to help put them on track to be positive. Nightmare is alone and weakened. Despite working tirelessly, there is nothing he can do to fix things. The balance shifts ever further, and Nightmare grows weaker.

It's years into their conflict that Dream hurts his brother again. He's used to them being on relatively even footing. He holds back against his disadvantaged brother, and Nightmare escapes before things get too bad. It's a song and dance they've done countless times at this point. But eventually, the time comes that Nightmare doesn't dodge in time. An arrow pierces his chest.

He's alive, the wound not enough to outright kill him, but he's comatose. Dream takes him back to his home, an opulent palace in an empty AU he's transformed to his liking. Nightmare can't get hurt anymore like this. Dream can protect him, and when he wakes up he'll convince him to see things his way. Everything will be okay. He always fixes things.

(Nightmare does eventually wake up and more things happen, but i'll save the how and why for later ;) )

Dream / Helios

Hundreds of years old, massively powerful, and incredibly influential. Dream has (peacefully) conquered most major AUs and solved their conflicts. Beloved by all and he knows it, he's egotistical and used to getting what he wants. And if he doesn't get what he wants... he finds a way. He's entitled and arrogant but also completely assured in his power. He has no need to gloat, he's quite confident in his status and abilities. But that isn't to say he doesn't like praise; he lives for it.

He's generous and well-intentioned, but also fully capable of justifying the means to get his end. If an AU can't be fixed it's either cordoned off or allowed to be destroyed. He employs many many people from many AUs to do his bidding, including those from AUs that would be considered 'negative'. If there's only one person left in the AU, removing them and giving them a better life is the next best way to fix it.

He doesn't have friends, not really, but his close confidants are Blue and Strike. He collects injured mythological creatures from AUs and rehabilitates them at his palace. He considers himself a patron of the arts, and aside from hiring people to help spread positivity he also hires artisans to live in his palace and fill it with art of all kinds. Tailors, sculptors, painters, writers, singers/musicians, and more.

He has many hobbies he's picked up over the years, but enjoys singing the most. He can fly with his wings, and is strong enough to carry someone along with him. He can change their size and shape depending on need.

He's very self conscious about the golden cracks all over his body, considering it a symbol of his weakness when he was young. He wears full coverings at all times (except his skull), and would only show the cracks to someone he truly trusts and cares for.

He's very skilled with a bow and rapier, but prefers to leave the fighting to his guards. He's very clever with his words and can be a skilled manipulator, but is equally capable of lacing his words with magic and forcing people to follow his will. He's very in-tune with souls and can manipulate even the slightest bit of positivity he senses, and there's a few people around his castle that are effectively his puppets due to their disobedience.

Nightmare / Eos

Cynical and exhausted. He's a workaholic; he doesn't have time to rest, he has to live up to his responsibilities. He rested enough as a statue and he can't afford to stop for even a moment. He wants nothing more than to have everything go back to the way it was and be close with Dream again, but worries the passage of time and what happened when they were young has put an irreparable crack in their relationship. The Dream he fights now is nothing like the Dream he knew when they were young, and he struggles to grasp that disparity.

Dream however can't help but recognize that Nightmare has barely changed. He's still shy and a bookworm. He's vilified and despised by most around him despite his good intentions, and continues to stand up for what he believes in in spite of it. He knows he will never be the hero of the story, but fights anyway.

He's slow to make friends and even slower to fully trust someone. He yearns to be understood and treated like a full person and not as a scapegoat for fears and misunderstandings. He's fighting to right the balance as is his responsibility, but all he really wants is to settle down and rest. He gets easily attached to people that make him feel safe and comforted.

He grew into his magic slowly as a statue, but is still adjusting to the changes even years later. When he's overwhelmed by negativity it can result in him leaking corruption from his sockets and mouth.

He's weakened from the balance being disrupted, but makes up for it with alternative magic he's learned from books. He has a passion for bookbinding and book restoration and has lovingly recreated and repaired what he could from the tree's library. He thinks it's very important to preserve Nim's history and live up to his responsibility as a guardian.

Not as skilled with a bow as his brother, but a decent swordsman with a sickle or scythe. He fights his own battles and eventually gains a team of close friends to support him.

[echantedtoon]

His One And Only

You weren't ever too sure about marrying into the Rengoku family. In fact your husband always seemed to love you WAY more than you ever did him. Despite the sadness you felt when he passed away, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. However you forgot about one thing.

You were his one and only in life AND DEATH.

Warnings for death mentioned and maybe slight yandere like themes. I got the idea based off the video by MorphyVA on YouTube below.

@lavenderdropp

The air tonight was as stale and dark as the grave this night. 

You couldn't help but feel a strange tension in the air and a bad feeling amongst the breeze as you swept the front porch of your tiny home. Darkness rolled over the skies despite it being daytime thanks to the large dark clouds fogging up above as far as the eye can see. It gave you an eerie feeling that crawled over your skin leaving goosebumps in it's wake. 

You hadn't felt like this since the funeral. The funeral of your husband.

Kyojuro Rengoku.

The man who's positive and kind personality was like a beacon of hope in the town that he lives in. Never a frown on his face. Always willing to lend a hand. Always so selfless. Is was no wonder why so many women were head over heels Infatuated by him. You always thought he was really nice, although nothing more to it than that. Perhaps that's why he became so intrigued by you. Your family ran the town's bakery for generations and so you were no exception. Working in the family establishment and helping to sell the many breads and cakes and other baked delights your family made and sold. 

He was almost always there sometime every day practically. Buying a small loaf of bread there or a cake for his mom here. Each and every time you spoke he'd smile and laugh which couldn't help but make you also happy. He was quite lively. Talking about everything from the small bird nest that was just built in his garden to his father's latest business investment. Sometimes you saw his family around town as well. Couldn't miss them. They all had the same vibrant features of fiery hair, flame eyes, and busy eyebrows. Seemed as if the Rengoku genes were very strong.

For the longest time ever you felt as if you had a good relationship with the Rengoku's, or at least one Kyojuro Rengoku. You thought you both were good friends by how much he spoke to you, or at the very least you two were on very good terms. However you were not expecting him to walk right into the small bakery and announce right in front of everyone-

"Mister and Misses L/n! I've come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage!"

A lightning struck overhear making you jump and blink up towards the sky. It was getting darker now..A sign you should head on inside. With a few final sweeps, you quickly turned around and headed back into the warmth of your house. The door slid closed with a sound. The embers of the fireplace hissed when a fresh log was tossed on them. With a sigh of relief from the warmth, you sat yourself down for a while. 

It was a rare moment of peace to yourself you got these days. It seemed like everything went downhill the moment your parents said yes to his outrageous proposal. You had no say in anything about the entire engagement or wedding or even the marriage. Even when you expressed that you didn't want to be married let alone to someone you really didn't know too well personally all you got was scolding from your family, eyerolls from your friends, and when you expressed your feelings to Kyojuro yourself he laughed away your concerns.

"Don't complain! You're not going to be young forever and the Rengoku's are the most prosperous family in seven provinces! So don't argue!," said your father.

"I want grandchildren!," said your mother.

"Are you serious?! You're so lucky! Any woman would die to be in your situation right now," said your best friend.

"AHAHAHA! Rest assured, Darling! We'll have all of the time in the world to get to know one another! I knew you were special the moment I laid eyes upon you! Do not fret. I promise to love you. Wholeheartedly," Said Kyojuro Rengoku before he caressed your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

In no time at all you were dressed in white sitting before a priest and staring into the crinkled eyes and happy beaming smile of a man you barely knew but now shared last names with. He took your hands in his own and smiled at you.

"From now on you're mine. My one and only.~"

Your eyes glanced towards the windows. The shutters rattling violently within the wind and continuously thudding against the glass panels. A violent shudder courses through your very core as you curled up ever closer to the fire. This was like the very night when your husband died. 

You two had been a couple..or what could be considered a couple for only a few months when it happened. You tried to adjust to your new life but couldn't really bring yourself to hold his hands or return his hugs when he went to hug you..And everyone expected you to kiss him and share a bed?? His heart looked shattered when you requested to have a separate bedroom from his and physically stepped away anytime he tried to show you physical affection in private or in public.

He looked crushed but understood and respected your boundaries. Oh his father did not like that. AT ALL.  You got quite a few nasty words from him and sympathetic looks from his mom but she only encouraged you to try and open up a little bit more and give her son a chance. Like you weren't freaking trying?! However many gifts he gave you didn't matter. However many kind words he spoke did nothing in the end. Because only seven short months after you two got married he was killed. 

Murdered to be exact.

He'd been in a fight with someone else by the name of Hakuji. Why the fight started or what it was about you had no clue. You weren't there. You could only do what everyone else in his family did, watch in horror and shock as a few of his friends brought his body, recovered after the fight, back to his family. It was all a blurred mesh after that. Still now it feels like it didn't even happen. 

There was a funeral for him a short time later, and with it the end of your time within the Rengoku's estate. For a short time that's where you stayed. Technically you were still a Rengoku if only by marriage and your last name so it kinda made sense for you to still live there kinda. But it was incredibly awkward, especially during dinners. Without Kyojuro there it was just like you were essentially a stranger spectating their house. Eventually you just left. It was too much and too awkward for you to stay. You couldn't just move back in with your family either, that was simply not done and they probably wouldn't accept you back anyways disappointed by your lack of interest in the marriage to begin with. You weren't homeless only because of the generosity of your aunt being nice to lend you her guest house until you get back on your feet.

With a tired sigh, hands rubbed your face and a tired feeling washed over you. You felt guilty about it. Really you did, but you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief after everything. As much as you thought Kyojuro was a good guy and didn't think he deserved to die, you just couldn't help but feel relieved that no one was trying to coax you into loving him or judging you. It was simply just more calm.

However tonight you were more on edge. You weren't sure why. Perhaps it was the lingering tension in the air or the still open wound from being widowed so soon. Whatever it was bothered you. The air was uneasy tonight. It'd be better in the morning hopefully. With one last shudder you curled up by the fire ready to sleep in and forget about it with the sun's warmth in the morning.

That it until the footsteps echoed from outside. 

At first you dismissed it as an animal. A deer, wolf, stray dog- Sone kind of large beast. It wouldn't be the first time you had animals near your home, however a deep dread filled you as your tired brain realized something about the sounds of those steps. 

I T W A S W A L K I N G O N T W O L E G S

Fully sparked awake now, you body shot right up as whatever it was encircling your small house was slowly making it's way from around the right side of the home and crunching it's way slowly towards the front door.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD-

Your wife eyes widened as a ghost hand entrapped your throat in fear. Head turning following the steps until it reached just outside of the front door. Heart pounding in your ears, you stared at the door in silence. No sounds other than the intense breeze outside and the crackling laugh of the fire behind you. Until there was a sound. A sound that made you flinch violently. The door shook a little bit. A small tug from the outside being stopped by the lock on the door securely keeping it shut. The lock jingling where the hook went through the loop. An experimental few tugs were given before it stopped all together leaving you to look on in terror, and then the next few sounds were given.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Honey, I'm home!"

The sound of shock and terror fled from your throat as you froze solid. That voice! That horribly recognizable voice! There's no possible way it could- You gave a shriek, scrambling back as a bold of lightning lit up the sky.

"Darling? Are you quite alright?"

No. NO!! This was real! He wasn't really there! Your mind was playing tricks on you-

JINGLE. JINGLE. JINGLE.

The flimsy hook lock jingle with each hard tug on the door.

CLINK-

Until it unhooked. The door slid open as lightning lit up the red eyes of the smiling figure in the doorway.

Y O U   S C R E A M E D

The tall figure took a step inside causing you to shoot up to you feet with another louder scream. Unnatural greying skin clung onto bone and body as the figure shambled inside from the whipping wind. Orange hair now as dull as dried tiger lily petals were a mess swaying from it's head. And white filmed eyes turned unnaturally in their sockets as they focused on your horrified screaming form.

"Oh, my little flame.~ My darling. I've returned home finally from...well.." The thing hummed in thought as if still confused but happy. "Actually I can't remember what happened too well exactly..The last thing I remember was defending your honor from that brute.. It's no matter!" He happily smiled holding out his arms. "I have returned home-"

Your voice cried out again backing away from the outstretched arms he held out to you which seemed to confuse the being. 

"Dear?" He slowly lowered his arms looking hurt. "Honey, it's me." He smiled again wider. "Kyojuro! I've returned to you!"

You shrieked. Not because you thought you lost your mind, but because of the fact that the man before you was dead. He was still dead. You knew because the clothes hanging from his body were the same ones he was buried in. Now stained and dirtied with soil stains like he had crawled out from the grave itself.

"Oh. Is it because of my ... appearance?  Darling, I promise you have nothing to fear from me." He stepped forward again. "Honey, please don't fret. You're my one and only. I couldn't rest without knowing that you were with me."

YOU SCREAMED.

You screamed and screamed. You couldn't stop screaming even when his expression turned to hurt and the cold touch caressed your cheeks. Even when he sighed in response to your reaction. You screamed out until your body could stand no longer and a deep black of night swallowed you whole.

[runecatwrites]

All About Echo!

Hey Linked Universe fandom! As a companion post to All About Rift, here’s a fact sheet about our newest Zelda to aid in all your headcanoning, writing, and art-making!

SPOILERS AHEAD!

-She’s the people’s princess. Everyone around Castle Town is familiar with her, and young children even beg her to play. This indicates an unusually close and informal relationship between royalty and subjects, which likely means that the royal family rules over a prosperous and happy little kingdom. A king facing unrest is not one who’d let his daughter mingle so freely with the populace.

-Her primary caregiver is Impa, an elderly nursemaid. Impa is fiercely protective of her charge and helps Zelda escape from the castle when the impostor king locks her up.

-She has a great relationship with her dad. The King of Hyrule is worried sick about his daughter when she’s missing and obviously very relieved to find that she’s okay at the beginning of the game. He pushes her out of the way to protect her from the rift in the throne room. Once the rift in the castle is closed, he tells her how proud he is of her for saving both him and her people.

-She doesn’t get out much. The other geopolitical leaders in Hyrule do not recognize her on sight and don’t even realize who she is when she gives her name (though some comment that her name sounds familiar). This probably means that she has never traveled on official business and also never been introduced to visiting dignitaries. She has likely lived a sheltered life and never been further away from home than Castle Town.

-She hasn’t been trained in any sort of combat. The only thing she’s able to do against monsters on her own is throw things at them (though there is a late-game knockback item you can get that allows Zelda shoulder-check enemies with a spin). Otherwise she has to use the Tri Rod to summon echoes to fight enemies, or else undergo a magical transformation into a Link-like specter to use his weapons.

-She’s good at puzzles. The game is full of them, and many are rather complex!

-She’s very feminine. Most of the outfits you get in game are dresses, and Zelda’s bedroom includes a dressing table with makeup and perfume. She loves to accessorize with her magical items. Increasing the number of accessories you can wear is something you do by asking the Great Fairy to make you “more stylish.”

-She’s an excellent swimmer. Swimming in the game requires no special item (you can do it right away), and has no stamina drain so swimming long distances is a piece of cake. Plus, you can dive down deep and pop back up to the surface easily.

-Certified horse girl! She has a rather sizable figurine or plushie of a horse in her bedroom, and Impa has been secretly raising a horse for her at Hyrule Ranch, which she gets to ride for the first time in-game.

-Certified cat lady! She has a pet cat in her room too. It’s a long-haired, cream colored one. When you speak to it using the magical “talk to cats” outfit you can obtain in game, the cat tells Zelda that it’s keeping watch over her room while she’s out adventuring.

-Certified plant mom! There’s a very large potted plant/tree in her room that takes up an entire corner.

-She loves her friends. At the end of the game, she’s very saddened by Tri’s departure, to the point of being unable to compose herself in front of a crowd of people upon returning to Castle Town. She later frames the Tri Rod in her room to commemorate her time with Tri.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

"Floral Affections" - Part 2

GN!Reader x Plant Monster

CW: nothing.

I DID A THING! :D

Finally got around to writing something, and I'm very happy with it! Hope you guys enjoy! <3

Part 1 | Next Part

~~~~

Whispers sounded around you all over the marketplace, the townsfolk giving you wary glances as you went about your business. Ever since you’d taken that job as Lord Sorrel’s gardener things had gotten… weird.

Now, people weren’t avoiding you, surprisingly enough. Quite the opposite! They were bothering the hell out of you. Several times a day, someone would come up to you, feigning curiosity about your day just to “subtly” ask you about the lord.

It was getting rather annoying, but at least most folk weren’t dumb enough to outright ask if your boss was gonna turn you into fertilizer.

…Most.

The town children were very blunt with their questions. They rarely believed your word when you described the lord to them, speaking of his soft tone and kind looks. But even worse than the youngsters were the nosy old ladies.

The women loved gossip—practically lived for it! And they’d always scorn you for “falling for that monster’s charms”. Your hackles always raised at their ill words, and you couldn’t help but remind them how much this little town had improved and grown since Lord Sorrel’s arrival.

No one was pleased with your defensive attitude, but they couldn’t deny the truth either; the town had never been so prosperous.

In the end, you moved on with your day. It would take a while for the townsfolk to warm up to him, and you had better things to do than worry about their opinions. So what if the town was owned by a plantman? He was so kind and generous and… pretty…

Oh-oh.

You shook your head and hurried back home, hoping the fluster on your face wasn’t too noticeable. Were you actually falling for him? You barely knew the man, but… your heart couldn’t help but race in his presence. His beauty had stunned you the first time you met, and the way he held himself... When combined with the gentle looks he sent your way, it had you swooning.

But even if you could admit to yourself that you had feelings for him, how would you even go about courting–

“Oh!” you gasped, surprised to find a small clay pot waiting at your doorstep. It was decorated with a golden pattern of swirls and held a gorgeous little flower. The plant had a long stem surrounded by leaves at the bottom, with its top adorned by petals that jutted out in spiky formations.

The flowers were a deep, purplish-blue. You quickly identified it as a blue salvia and promptly became confused. These did not grow locally, and you haven't heard of any traveling merchants passing through town selling them. This would imply that someone had paid a pretty penny for it to be delivered here…

Your face grew hot once more. With careful hands, you picked up the gift and scurried inside. The pot quickly found a spot on your kitchen table, brightening up the space as you stared at it in wonder.

“Should I… bring him something in return?” the question tumbled from your lips unsurely, your expression twisting in nervous doubt. “But what if it's not from him…?”

And that was when you noticed, hidden behind the leaves, a bit of gold sparkled. You brushed them aside, revealing the answer to your query: Lord Sorrel’s initials written on the inner side of the pot, just barely peeking out above the dirt filling it.

Chewing on your lip, you glanced between the flower and the backdoor of your house, thinking. With a decisive huff, you headed out into your humble garden. Hopefully, you could find something that would match the salvia’s meaning or at least something to reply with.

After all, to a gardener such as yourself, Lord Sorrel’s message was very clear;

“I think of you.”

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Daughter's Gift: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

You never told me where the rose came from. You simply handed it to me among the Christmas gift-giving, a spot of summer in that mid-winter storm. I was too delighted to question it. It seemed another miracle in that miraculous day, all those gifts filling our little kitchen the way they’d filled our parlor in the days of plenty. We all believed your story, that the ship had come home laden with treasures, and that you’d been able to buy us everything we’d asked for and more. Even miraculous flowers that lasted through snowstorms.

When you said you were leaving after New Year’s, no one questioned that, either. Now that we were prosperous, there would be more business to attend to, more money to handle in businesses that didn’t exist in this little country town. No doubt you’d be engaging us a real house again, and we’d be back in the city before Easter.

But then you didn’t return. And didn’t return. The eldest of your sons traveled to the city and found that you’d never arrived. None of the inns had seen you pass by. It was as if you’d disappeared from the world the moment your wagon left our sight. By now there were no signs in the snow, no body to find. You had vanished, and there was nothing for us to grieve.

A year passed, two. We thought you dead, knew you dead, but did not want to believe you dead. And so we searched, and lifted our heads in hope every time there was word of a stranger in town. I wandered into the forest on every snowy day, hoping to find the mysterious something that could have diverted you from your path.

After three years, I found it. I traveled on my normal route through the woods, but I suddenly found myself in an open meadow full of springtime flowers, an arm’s-length away from the Beast.

I capitalize it, because you know, and I know, that there is only one who fits that name. The creature with the fur and head and claws of a wolf that stands and speaks like a misshapen man.

Its voice rumbled like thunder. “You are the thief’s daughter.”

I protested at that—faced with such a lie, I could contradict any monster. “My father is an honest man.”

“And a thief,” it said.

With those words, the rose—your final gift to me—appeared in my hand. I had memorized—could recognize—its every petal and thorn. It had remained fresh through all these long years, and I had questioned that, but not too closely—I did not like to think that my gift had brought about your ruin.

“This is mine,” I said. “My father gave it to me.”

“And he stole it from me,” the Beast said. “The price was his freedom.”

My heart went to my throat. “You have him prisoner?”

“It was his choice. My justice.”

I swallowed. “What...what was the other choice?”

“To send you.”

I cried at that. To know that you’d sacrificed yourself to save me.

How was I to repay such love? There was only one way.

By sacrificing myself for you.

I beg you, do not be angry with me. Just as you couldn't bear to send me in your place, so I couldn't bear to leave you as a monster’s prisoner. Not when I had the power to save you.

The Beast promises I shall be treated as a guest. This palace contains marvels I have barely begun to explore. I shall be safe and happy here, if I know you are safe and happy at home.

Do not search for me. Do not weep for me. Accept my gift as I accepted yours--with love and gratitude--and know that I would give much more for the sake of such a father.

I know well the price of love. I pay it gladly.

Know that, wherever I am, I will always love you all.

[avelera]

Thinking about the lovely “New Inn Through the Ages” post by @virgo-dream in terms of alternatives to the popular “Hob built the New Inn for Dream after the missed 1989 meeting” headcanon.

- Quick disclaimer, this headcanon always mildly (and irrationally, this is fandom after all) irked me because to my pedantic, archaeology-obsessed ass, the New Inn was obviously visually at least 200 years old just based on the brick work so “built” never really worked, at most Hob could have purchased or renovated it if it was in response to 1989. To some that’s splitting hairs but what can I say, I never pretended to be rational about dumb history stuff.

- THAT SAID, it would be kind of interesting if Hob does own the New Inn but not necessarily since 1989, but even earlier. It could even be interesting for him to have built the New Inn in truth but back in the 1700s when the building was actually built.

- Hob appears not just comfortable at the White Horse in its 1889 but at the very least a regular. He recognizes Lou on sight and names her immediately, he knows her nickname at the establishment. This familiarity doesn’t track if this is his first time at the White Horse since 1789.

- After 1689, Hob appears to have opted to buy out a private room for them for their discussion, perhaps in response to his return in fortunes but also perhaps based on the memory of being nearly thrown out in 1689 and interrupted by Shaxberd in 1589. The guy is learning how to better manage their encounters. So it stands to reason that after they were interrupted by Constantine in 1789 as a result of her paying off the proprietor, that Hob would simply buy out the inn for 1889.

- Hob owning the White Horse in 1889 actually rather tracks with his familiarity with Lushing Lou and the fact that he’s so at ease there and clearly arrived well before Dream. He speaks to Lou with authority and is dressed with signs of at least middle class prosperity. Being the owner of the White Horse tracks with that level of prosperity shown, nothing flashy, after all it’s in a bad part of town these days.

- Thing is, Hob has a mind for business as we see in numerous instances at the centennial meetings. As a result, to me, it wholly tracks that he wouldn’t stop at buying the White Horse, he’d also purchase a few neighboring taverns and inns once he got a hang of the business. (Consolidation of neighborhood pubs under mega corporation ownership in the 1990s is its own interesting side note on this because again, I’m a history nerd.) The New Inn is presented as so close to the White Horse that a graffiti arrow is enough to point it out. That’s very close indeed.

- SO, I think from this it’s reasonable to say that Hob could very well have owned the New Inn as part of one of his business ventures since the 19th century or earlier, perhaps even as a result of the 1789 meeting and “Finding another pub”, perhaps even building the New Inn then in truth either before or after the meeting as an alternative in case another lunatic Constantine shows up. It’s so close by he might have hoped he could persuade Dream with its proximity.

- Right then, if that’s true, why can’t Hob save the White Horse?

- Perhaps after 1889 he simply sold his ownership stake in it. Heartbroken and angry at himself, especially if he’d provided all these contingencies like the New Inn in case of interruptions or other disasters, he might have just felt as much like a fool as in 1589 when he tried to provide a fine meal. Probably best to just give up and stop trying to control matters, since look where that got him.

- So he sells the White Horse. But the other inns don’t have the same emotional stake and business is business, so he sets those up with a “family trust” to keep running, lending the building out to different managers, etc. and simply carries on.

- Cue his look of devastation in 1989 upon learning the White Horse is going to shut down. If he once owned it, it might be a particular gut punch to know he could have prevented this if he hadn’t let his bitterness get the better of him. Despite his best efforts, he can’t prevent it from being condemned.

- LUCKILY he still had his own business interests nearby in the form of those pubs he built or bought centuries ago. He dusts off his paperwork around the New Inn and reassumes direct management (or at least, his nephew does in a few years). The 1789 “nearby pub” contingency might just pay off in the 21st century, who knows? And it worked!

And there you have it. My take on how Hob could have built the New Inn starting from its actual original construction. Very fun to consider too when you check out Virgo’s post and discover that a Mr. Hobert did indeed own it at one point ;)

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #25] January

warnings: we get jaykay in his student era!!! poor baby is STRESSED!! very wholesome!! b makes him pasta, very lovely <33 until very suddenly it's not!! fingering, mentions of the erotic accordion, lots of teasing. a personal fave!!

wc: 12.5k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

It's a pleasant surprise to see Kim Taehyung with his clothes on. 

His cheeks are still a little warm when he strolls into the art cafe, well aware that it was his other cheeks you'd been confronted with when you'd seen him last.

Hands in pockets, he plays it off. Is cool and casual, in that suave way artists so often are.

"If you're looking for Danbi, we only live together. Don't work together. Think you'll find her at Memorial Park with half a dozen dogs, maybe" you tease.

He rolls his eyes, and continues forward to the main desk. When he reaches it, he leans an elbow down and looks quite at home. Dressed in a pair of dark slacks and cream button-up, he's a business-casual Capricorn's wet dream. It's entirely understandable why Danbi couldn't resist. You're surprised it's taken her this long, if anything.

"If it was Danbi I was after, it'd be Danbi I was with," he assures you, smile ever-present. He's charming; not like a sleazebag, but like a Disney prince. Always says the right thing. "And anyways, I know she's there. Just been there, myself."

You smile, pleased for your best friend.

It makes sense. She's been with him every night since New Year's. Your apartment has actually been a little lonely.

A week on since you were greeted with his bare arse, you're curious as to why Taehyung would be gracing you with his presence. It wouldn't be entirely out of character, but you are also aware that the last time he was here, it was to pitch his art show.

You remind him of this - not that he needs it, as he passes a business card over to you, embossed with a since hangul syllable: 류.

"Ryu?" You ask. "As in the gallery?"

He nods. "Ryu Gallery."

It's mid-size, a little out of town, but well-respected. Was one of the many galleries that simply didn't get back to Tae - but you have an acquaintance who works there. A friend of Seokjin's, actually. Involved in the finance side of the company. Had invited him along because you figured that there was no harm in asking. Didn't really expect him to show up.

Pulling his phone from his front pocket, Taehyung says nothing as he loads up his call history. At the top, there's a red number - one missed call - and a small play button next to what you assume is a voicemail. He presses down on it, and lets it play out.

"Hello, this is Park Shinwon from Ryu Gallery. I was passed your information by one of our colleagues, and was wondering if you had availability for a call regarding your work? We have an opening at the end of the month and are looking for a local artist to fill the space. If you think this could be a good fit for you, please call me back at the earlie-"

Taehyung cuts the voicemail short. You've heard all the important stuff.

There's a smile on your face; one that brewed gently as the memo played out. He'd done it. The write-ups and reviews had been fantastic, and Namjoon had helped get Taehyung a decent spot in the arts & culture section of the local paper, but this is the first solid indication that the show had been prosperous.

"Holy shit," you beam, clapping your hands together in tiny little pats of joy.

"Right?!" He beams right back. Phone locked and back in his pocket, Taehyung's never looked prouder of himself. You don't know him like you know Jimin or Jeongguk, but you know him well enough to understand how huge this is for him. "I can't even begin to thank yo-"

"No!" You laugh, reaching across the counter to squeeze his arm. "Don't you dare. It was your hard work, Tae. You did this! Congratulations!"

A little bashful in the way he looks down, it's clear that he's not used to such high praise. It's something he'll have to get used to, you think. This is just the start for him. He's destined for greats, you're sure of it - but then again, you have unwavering faith in everyone you care about. You'll manifest for them; will their dreams into reality. You're not sure if it works, but it's nice to think it does.

"Did you call back? What did you say?" You enthuse, before a couple comes to the counter with their finished artwork. Gritting your teeth, you cast Taehyung an apologetic smile. "Ah, just give me a moment."

He nods, and tells you to carry on. He knows he's interrupted you at work and feels bad for it. He could have just waited until he came around that evening (Danbi had already asked if he would), but was too nervous about the call.

When you return from packing up the canvases and ringing through the bill, he admits to it.

"Haven't actually called them yet," he grits his teeth together, eyes apologetic. "Didn't know what to say. It's kinda why I'm here."

"Oh?"

"You can say no," he prefaces, "but like... I don't know the first fucking thing about the suit side of the art world. Don't know how to negotiate, don't even know if that is something I need to be doing. I'm a fish out of water. and you're the only person I know - and trust - who seems to have any clue what they're doing."

It's really sweet that he thinks you have any idea at all. You just wing it a solid seventy percent of the time. You have connections, and you have a functioning brain. That's about it.

Still, you'll let him think that you have your wits about you.

"So..." you encourage, trying to coax a proper question out of him. You know what he's asking, but really think that all of Jeongguk's ragtag bunch of friends could do with learning how to ask for what they want. Maybe not Yoongi. He seems to have shit figured out.

"So..." Taehyung imitates, a friendly grin on his face. He's pretty. Really isn't hard to see why Danbi likes him. She's always gone for the artsy types. Likes to be a muse. "I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? Sort of like an agent, but not quite, 'cause I'm poor as fuck and definitely can't afford it."

"Agents work on commission," you tell him. "Or at least some of them do, so it doesn't matter that you're poor now."

"Well, I might never be rich," he warns you.

Taehyung believes in his work. Loves his work. Is yet to have success that reflects this. Other people don't seem to feel as strongly about it, which leaves him with lingering doubt as to whether or not he actually has something , or if it's all a bit of a vanity project. He hopes it's not. Knows that Rome wasn't built in a day, mind you.

It takes dedication. A hard grind. He's got grit and determination, but the doors he's knocked at have been double-bolted. Thinks that maybe you could give him a key.

"I doubt that very much," you say regarding his doubts. 

Of all the work showcased at the last show, it was his pieces that people kept coming back to. His pieces tagged in the art cafe's Instagram by customers. His pieces that sold; that got people interested. You had even had a girl in the cafe on a date a few weeks ago, who painted a replica of one of Tae's prints, which had been hanging on the wall beside her.

He's got talent.

But he knows that's not enough.

"Still, I didn't even realise agents were paid that way. I've no idea what on earth I'm doing, Disco Ball. Not really."

You take a moment to consider the proposition, but you aren't sure why. It's a no-brainer. Of course you'll help him out. You've contacts, thanks to your job, and acquaintances with money to spend thanks to Seokjin. You'll be an invaluable resource for him - and he'd much rather have a friend leading him through this unchartered territory than someone who only cares about numbers and finances.

"I'll make you a deal," you offer. "I'll help you, free of charge, but on one condition."

"Go on..."

You beam; smile so sweet that Taehyung knows your compromise is probably unconventional.

"I get a Kim Taehyung original."

"It won't be worth anything," he laughs. "It's a rotten deal."

"Not yet, maybe, but it will be," you tell him.

Much like Jeongguk's dreams, you believe in Taehyung's, too. Have no doubt he will achieve success. He's a Capricorn. Is just what they do.

"Alright," he agrees. Holds out his hand for you to shake. "I'll give you a free commission. You can redeem it at any time. Anything, any size, doesn't matter. It's yours."

He makes a mental note to revise this deal as you shake his hand. Doesn't think it's entirely fair on you. Thinks that he's benefitting far more from this than you will - but good, original artworks within your budget are hard to come by. You know your future self will thank you for this.

You tell Taehyung to arrange a meeting with the consultant at Ryu Gallery. 

"I'll go with you as a representative; will ask the right questions, stuff like that. The key here is to not sell yourself short or undervalue your work. If you sell a million-dollar piece for a hundred bucks, it'll set a precedent. People will take advantage. It'll be detrimental."

He nods, eager to learn. Willing to listen. Wants to succeed, and will do all he can to make sure it happens.

Departing only after you force him to call Ryu Gallery back and set a date in the calendar for next week, Taehyung is beyond appreciative. Both Danbi and Jeongguk had told him to reach out to you again, but he'd felt a little guilty, almost as if he was taking advantage of how charitable you are.

You don't really see it that way. Figure that if the roles were reversed, he'd do the same for you.

"Oh, just quickly!" Taehyung pipes up just as he reaches the door of the cafe. "The piece up in Jeongguk's living room - the black and gold one." Your face heats up. "Who's the artist?"

"Not sure," you shrug with an inconspicuous purse of your lips. "Why?"

"Jeongguk just said he got it from here," Taehyung explains, your cheeks only getting rosier and rosier. "I really like it so just wondered if it was part of a bigger collection."

"I can check," you say, knowing that there is absolutely no way you're ever gonna produce another one of those. Now that Tae's asking questions about it, you know Jeongguk needs to squirrel it away. The last thing you want is the truth coming out.

"Amazing," he beams.

You smile right back, but let it fade into a groan as he heads down the stairs, the realisation that he's seen the imprint of your tits leaving you mortified.

It's only fair though, you suppose. You have seen his arse, after all. Maybe you are more well acquainted than you realise.

The lives that you and Jeongguk had lived separately for many moons have somehow converged, meeting a diving point of intervention; as if you were meant to live your lives exactly as you have, just for moments like these.

This is only amplified when you arrive at Jeongguk's place after your shift finishes.

On New Year's day, after the creation of his sticky note shrine, origami birds watching proudly, you'd reached an agreement with Jeongguk: each and every one of the sticky notes have to be done by the end of the year.

"What about the birds?" Jeongguk had asked, not wanting to sacrifice them.

You both know the birds hold far more weight. The sticky notes are fun; a chance to experiment freely with somebody who is on the same page as you. The birds are all about preparing yourself to turn the page, so you can meet someone willing to start a new book with you.

Curled up in his bed, while Jeongguk had been sitting on his bedroom floor putting together a display box for a new 'sculpture' (because he refuses, still, to let you call them action figures) that he'd been gifted for Christmas, you had contemplated his question.

"The birds fall naturally," you'd hummed. "They drop when the universe needs them to. The sticky notes are deliberate. We're making the active choice to do them."

Cross-legged, Jeongguk reached over to get a small screwdriver from his bedside table. Your gaze had been up on the birds, but drifted down to him.

"So we'll make the active choice to do the sticky notes, and then just do the birds when they fall?" Jeongguk had clarified, not looking at you as he threaded a small screw into its hole.

"Yeah," you'd smiled. "Like, I come round once a week, and we get a sticky note done. Something like that."

Looking up at you now, Jeongguk had tilted his head in contemplation, pursing his lips before finally nodding. "Shall we say Sundays?"

With a slight sense of trepidation, but the awareness of this being good for you both, you had nodded. "Sundays. Trial it for the month of January. See how it goes."

And so now you're at Jeongguk's place for the first time since New Year's with a clear agenda - and yet all you really want to do is hang out with him. Innocently. Platonically.

"Oh thank God," Jimin breathes out with an overdramatic sigh of relief when he opens the door for you. Shoes on, jacket slung over his shoulders, he's been waiting on your arrival. "Jeongguk- '' he calls back into the darkness. None of the living area lamps are on, the city lights illuminating their apartment instead. "The babysitter is here! I'll be gone till morning. Don't be any trouble."

You roll your eyes, flicking his arm as you step past him into the apartment.

He's heading out for a family event down in Busan. Jeongguk had been intending on going to the city with him, but simply has too much school work to do.

Finals are coming up. He's stressed to the absolute high heavens.

"I will warn you," Jimin says quietly while you take off your shoes. "He's in a foul mood. Has been for, like, three days now. Think it's his time of the month."

"Still baffles me how you're able to pull," you mutter, knowing that any explanations on the intricacies of the menstrual cycle would be wasted on him - only for Jimin to remind you that he pulled you . "Was a moment of weakness," you assure him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say DB," he grins. "Look after him alright? Make sure he eats his veggies and brushes his teeth before bed."

Jimin departs faster than the winter wind that's howling against their windows. You don't even have a chance to question why he's treating Jeongguk like such a child - but as you walk into his bedroom, you sort of see why.

His bed's unmade, and he hasn't showered since, like, Thursday, maybe. Papers are scattered all over his desk, and there's a collection of takeout boxes by his door. The birds that were on his desk are now perched up on the shelf, laying in the middle of his chessboard. Beside them, a pot of your misplaced glitter sparkles in the dim light.

Quite unlike himself, Jeongguk's jaw looks sharper but his cheeks are bloated. You can tell he hasn't been eating nor drinking enough. Has a can of Monster on his desk, but you both know it's not enough to sustain him.

He really does look like a university student now, more than he ever has done before. Glasses on, hair tied in a tiny bun by the nape of his neck, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip, the stress is evident in his sloped posture.

"Don't look at the mess," he mumbles, embarrassed that you have to see his room in this state, but also too preoccupied to really care.

You meander to his bed and sit down, one leg crossed beneath the other. Smile. "Too late."

"Sorry," he offers, but you shake your head - not that he's looking at you.

"S'fine," you hum. "If tonight is bad for you, we can always resched-"

"No," he says rather sharply, finally turning to look at you. His eyes are all wide and wanting, hating the idea of you leaving so soon, but they're also tired . He needs rest. "No, sorry." He puts down his pen, and turns in his chair a little. "I'm probably gonna be shitty company, but I'd like you to stay."

And so you nod. Of course you'll stay.

"Your hair looks sweet like this," you muse a little mindlessly as you come to stand by him, letting your index finger twirl in the curl that sticks out from the small bun.

His hair is always silky smooth, and you're envious of how well-nourished it is. A little curly, he definitely visits the salon every once in a while. You find it all very endearing, imagining him with a little salon cape around his shoulders, protectors over his ears, curlers in his hair.

"Needs a wash," he simply states, not wanting to dwell on the compliment that makes his tummy feel all funny. He's not really used to such delicate compliments.

Jiyeong would always comment on his physical strength, manliness, shit like that. Hardly surprising, given that she works at the gym. It's not just her though - Hayun's favourite part of him was always his upper arms.

He's no idea what you like about him. What attracts you to him - 'cause as much as you both like to pretend you're a bit repulsed by one another, there's obviously gotta be some sort of mutual attraction. The sex is too good.

Unless, he considers, it's all just chemical. Hormonal shit he doesn't understand, but knows plays an important role in chemistry. Maybe you aren't physically attracted to him at all.

"Wish my hair looked that good when it needs a wash," you sigh.

"I've never seen it look bad," he says, not thinking much of it.

"Well, I'd hope not," you smile. "I do know how to shower."

"I've got some things just to finish up - shit ," he curses as he realises just how much of a mess his room is. "I'm sorry. Been at work today, haven't you? Can grab a shower if you like, or something while I do this."

'This' is test revision. Coursework never really stresses him out, even if he does leave it until the last minute. He has more control over the variables. Exams make him nervous, and if there's one feeling Jeongguk hates, it's nervousness. Figures if he studies and studies and studies, then he'll feel prepared, and the nerves will ease. It never works. Only ever makes it worse.

"You sure?" you ask, though if you're being honest, a shower right now would be ideal. You got paint all over you at work, and while most of it washed off in the sink, you still feel a little less than fresh. "Or is this some backhanded way of telling me my hair looks shit?"

"Oh, 100%. You look awful. But also, yes. I'm sure," he smiles, soft eyes patient as he tries to push the pressure of his studies to the back of his mind. He hasn't seen you all week. Has missed you. Is glad you're here. Kinda hates that he's telling you to leave him, already, even if it's only for twenty minutes or so.

"Gonna join?" You ask, not really thinking much of it. Just a habit, now.

Jeongguk shakes his head. "Will get one later."

There are two distinct halves to Jeongguk's fear of rejection. The obvious, most notable half is the part of him that hates the feeling of being rejected, which prevents him from asking for what he wants. 

Far less discussed is the part of him that feels like he always has to say yes, because he doesn't ever want to make other people feel bad.

Just like he never fears rejection from you, he doesn't fear your reaction to his rejection, either. There's a stable foundation to your friendship. It's good for him.

So used to transactional relationships with the girls he's slept with - on their part, not his - he doesn't really realise that this - what you two have - is normal. It's how it should be.

And so when you smile, and say 'okay', Jeongguk almost expects you to start fighting with him.

It's been a few days since he spoke with Jiyeong ( where it was firmly established that she ended it with him, and that he was the problem, not her) but lingering patterns of behaviour still plague his mind. Feelings of failure still reside in the part of his brain that deals with desire.

You believe him when he says he won't join. Don't try and tempt. Tonight isn't about that - though you do glance over to the myriad of sticky notes on his bedroom wall before you grab his towel. Pay no notice to the fact there's a new one. Just as fluffy - exactly the same, you think - it's still wrapped in a sleek bow with the tag on it.

Maybe he's gotten annoyed with how often you use it. Maybe you're just such a permanent fixture that two seems like a good idea. You don't ask about it.

Instead, you also grab one of his shirts - the one with his hand prints on it. Paint markers have been taken to the shirts since, now outlining where his bones would be. The skeleton hands make you laugh - but they also get you thinking about that shower with him.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you leave Jeongguk to get on with his studies.

As you start the shower up and relieve your hair from the claw clip it's up in, you aren't too concerned with him joining. You genuinely do want to shower. Leave the door open just in case, but don't wait for him like you did the last time you were in the same position.

It turns out showers are far quicker when you're solo. You leave it without the feel of his hands on your body, but the scent of his strawberry shower gel still stains your skin. Feels like you're perpetually covered in him, in a roundabout way.

Scrunching your hair with his towel as you head back into his room, your clothes are still in a pile on his bathroom floor. You're just in the shirt now, bra foregone, underwear on to maintain some kind of decency.

You don't really greet him, instead heading to the window to take in the view. You're always envious of the skyline. It makes you consider moving closer to the inner city - but you're quite comfortable in your low-rise with Danbi. Plus, you can always just come and hang out here if you find yourself missing it.

Jeongguk says nothing as he comes to stand in behind you; personal space void of any meaning between the pair of you. Chin resting on your head, he drapes his arms over your shoulders.

You whisper a small greeting, and he whispers one back, but neither of you make conversation. Instead, you just watch the traffic roll on by. 

His eyes are down by the traffic lights, watching as a small crowd forms, a red light preventing them from crossing even though the road is clear. Yours are a little higher up, on the motel that is hidden between two skyscrapers. The curtains are mostly all drawn; save for one, where a couple stands in a position hauntingly similar to yours and Jeongguk's. They're smiling. Joking about something. Enjoying one another company - until the person standing in Jeongguk's position draws the curtain shut to keep the world at bay.

Maybe they're friends, too, you hypothesize - but friends don't book in love motels together, and if they do? Well, they certainly don't look like that together.

It's not like it's a new concept to you. You understand the conventions of couples; just think that maybe the line between romantic and platonic is far finer than you previously believed. Reckon that you and Jeongguk have a clear sense of it.

Turning in your spot, you wanna get a read on his face; see if you can gauge what he's thinking, what he's feeling. He doesn't move back as you turn. Stays in position. Doesn't mind the closeness.

Just an inch or so away from you, the proximity forces you to tilt your chin upwards in order to catch his gaze. His own chin is tipped to his chest, looking down at you in the gentlest of ways.

Storm clouds of mascara rest faintly beneath your lash line, and the occasional rivulet of water trails from your hair and down your skin like spring rain. Your typically tempestuous attitude is nowhere to be seen; docile in the calm of Jeongguk's mellow summer air.

Silent as the pads of his fingers stroke down the side of your neck, you're well aware of the fact you're not really breathing. Are too consumed by trepidation. Fearful and yet hopeful of what's to come. His firmly pouted lips part slowly - but he doesn't lean down.

Instead, his fingertips hook beneath the chain around your neck, and slowly begin to twist it back into position. The clasp had fallen to the front, excess chain tangling around the charm.

Jeongguk holds the dainty silver bird where it should be, between your collarbones, his touch feathery as he preens you.

Cautious and yet entirely confident, he doesn't mean to steal your breath - but it's only fair. You took his first.

His lip purse. Fold in on themselves. Lip ring does the thing. Adam's apple bobs as he swallows back a feeling he doesn't quite know what to make of.

And then he simply nods. Steps a little further back. Smiles. "There. Much better."

A discreet smile ghosts your lips as he turns away from you to get back to his work. Revision always gets him in this weird of constant contempt; stressed at the world around him even when he needn't be. Gets him antsy. Agitated.

His stress manifests in hunched shoulders and restless legs which jitter beneath his desk.

He tries to ignore the twinge of guilt in his chest as you leave the room without a word. Knows that he must be terrible company. Wonders why he can't just express himself normally.

Contrarily, you worry that Jeongguk just wants to be alone, and that your presence is overbearing. He could have cancelled plans if he wanted to. You wouldn't have minded. Sure, you've missed hanging out with him, but it's not the end of the world. Is probably good to have a little bit of a breather from one another every now and again.

Fixated on the fact you feel like a bother, you set about making yourself useful. He looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in a good while, and the boys keep their fridge remarkably well-stocked for a couple of bachelors with a penchant for nightlife.

Jeongguk listens out for you, still doing his work. Can hear you rummaging about in the fridge, and wonders what on earth you could be doing. Figured that the pair of you would just order in, or something like that.

Truthfully, you'd thought the same - but they've got a stockpile of tomatoes, and chicken that needs using. Without Danbi at home much this week, you've overindulged in take-out and snack foods a few too many times. You need a good meal just as much as he does. 

Glancing over to the hob, you check the pasta in the glass jar next to Jeongguk's chopping board. They're out of spaghetti, save for maybe ten strands, but thankfully have a full jar of rigatoni.

You know you can thank Jimin for the decanted pasta. The more you learn about him, the more you understand why his bedroom is so bare despite his job. He calls it 'intuitive interior design' - making life easy for himself through deliberate choices. It's why his bedroom is so streamlined. Less clutter means he can reset his brain more easily.

The living space is where the colour of the apartment is - Tae's paintings, photobooth strips, feather boas stolen from Dionysus - but the kitchen is laid out in a way that makes things easy for both of the boys.

You set about getting the things you might need, not really caring to ask Jeongguk's permission. Whatever you use, you'll happily buy again in the morning, but also highly doubt he'll ask you to. At least this way, he won't have to waste perfectly good ingredients on account of them rotting away in the bottom of the fridge.

You're chopping the tomatoes by the time Jeongguk comes to stand in his doorway. 

Leaning against the frame, a hand in his pocket, a soft smile on his lips, he's a little confused. Just watches as domestication becomes you; stars forming on your cheeks when the low glare of the overhead lights hits you just right. Hair still a little damp, it's up with a claw clip, small strands framing your face. You've the speaker on quietly, not wanting to disturb him. Some song he doesn't know by an artist he doesn't recognise plays. All he knows is that he likes it. Likes how comfortable this feels.

Jeongguk has missed you. Has been working to the point of exhaustion, but unable to sleep whenever he goes to bed. Looking at you now, he tries to stifle a yawn. Is glad you haven't noticed his presence, 'cause he knows the face he just pulled wasn't pretty.

But he thinks you are.

The fact he feels like he could sleep now? A curse, he decides. Doesn't wanna sleep. Wants to spend all evening catching up with you.

You're using the side of the knife to gather the chopped tomatoes together, and scooping them into a bowl, when you finally notice him.

"Hey," you say, a smile present as always. Such a simple word, but such a comforting one, too.

"Hey," he smiles back. "Watcha doin', B?"

"Baking a cake," you joke as you begin to peel some garlic from a bulb.

"Mhmm? Tomato cake," he says, pushing off the doorframe with his shoulder and making his way to the kitchen island. He stands opposite you, resting his elbows on the counter, chin in his hands. "My favourite."

The way your eyes sparkle under the warm lights that hang down from the ceiling has Jeongguk thinking of the stars again. His are all starry too, but you think that's just normal for him.

"Good," you say. "I'm making you your very own tomato cake. You have to eat it all ."

"I will."

"You better."

"Every last crumb," he nods - and even though tomato cake sounds absolutely repulsive to him, his stomach rumbles. Makes you laugh.

"When did you last eat?" you ask as you turn to the hob to fetch some spices off the rack.

Jeongguk mumbles. Says he doesn't really remember. Your eyes are sympathetic, frown present when you face him again.

"Gotta look after yourself," you tell him.

"I know. I will. I am - it's just, this exam, Byeol... I'm bricking it."

You had figured as much, but it's nice to have him confirm it instead of letting your assumptions take the lead.

"S'why I chose a coursework exclusive degree," you tease, trying to lighten his mood. "Was heaven."

"I'm so glad we didn't know each other back then," he laughs. "Would have resented you so badly."

You grimace, and give him a look he doesn't understand.

"You're BEM boy," you explain, shortening his Business and Events Management course name to the acronym that it's more commonly known by on campus. And then you shudder. "We wouldn't have been friends."

"Oh, bullshit," he protests. He knows boys on the full-time BEM course have a reputation amongst the alumni. Fuckboys . He's part-time, though. Doesn't run with those crowds. Is a good few years older than most of them, now.

"Nope," you argue back, still pottering about the kitchen, adding more ingredients to the saucepan. "If you'd have been in uni at the same time as me, I'd have avoided you like the plague."

"Would have been your loss."

Doesn't wanna blow his own trumpet, but knows that he looked damn good at 21. Considers it his peak. Forgets 23, and the amount of girls falling at his feet (was too busy at the time, face down by Hayun's feet instead). Simply doesn't realise how good he looks now, at 25.

Maybe 18-year-old Jeongguk was a little awkward, granted, but everyone is at that age. Whenever he used to visit his friends on campus for nights out, the girls they knew would always want to go out with them.

It's actually how he met Hayun. Was 19, and Taehyung had just done a project with her and Nabi for some extra credit. She came on a night out, and he got so nervous around her that he decided to black out just so he didn't have to feel the nerves. He'd woken up the next morning face down in a kebab box on the floor of Nabi and Hayun's dorm.

He resigned himself to the friend zone, and for a while, it had worked. For years, in fact. Convinced himself that they really were just friends. Best friends. Had offered to shag her after she'd spent a solid twenty minutes complaining about the fact she hadn't had sex for long she may as well have been a born-again virgin. Was just joking - but when she called his bluff, Jeongguk folded.

Maybe it wouldn't have been your loss at all. 

Maybe you'd have never become friends, like you are now. 

Maybe you both had to live through your traumas to be able to find one another.

You just scoff, unaware of memory lane taking Jeongguk down an unfavourable path. " Sure . My first uni hook-up was with a guy doing BEM. Trust me. I would have avoided you."

"Oh?" Jeongguk questions. "Do I know him?"

Shaking your head, you turn to place the pan on the stovetop, and let it heat up. "Doubt it. Was a final year when I was a fresher, so would have been gone way before you started."

Jeongguk's brows furrow, now. "When you were a fresher? A final year?"

Humming confirmation, you carry on with your cooking.

"He was supervising the fresher's bar crawl," you explain. Can't even remember his name, now. Can barely remember anything about that night. "Was leading my team. I lost against him in a drinking game. Really couldn't handle my drink back then. Anyways, I ended up in some off-campus house with the most vom-inducing hickies known to man."

"So you were drunk?"

It sounds a little accusatory. He doesn't mean to. It's just that he deals with creeps taking advantage of drunk girls all the time. Hates it. Hates thinking it happened to you.

"Yeah?"

"And he wasn't?"

"He was less so. Was still drinking, but yeah, it wasn't my best decision."

The way you shrug it off frustrates Jeongguk. His lips purse a little, and the dimples reserved for moments of contemplation deepen in his cheeks.

"You know what it's like when you're eighteen," you continue, facing away from him, unaware of his obvious contempt. "First taste of freedom and all that. Think you're invincible. And like, I made worse choices that year," you add, as if that's supposed to soften the blow of what you've just told him.

His tummy feels all twisted; as if his body is trying to manifest the concept of time travel just so he can go back and apply for university when everyone else did. Wants to have been your friend right from the start. Wants to erase the reality of creeps taking advantage of you.

"Still a kid at eighteen," he says. Strange, how he doesn't afford his past self the same kindness. "It's so young."

You shrug, turning back around to retrieve the extra vegetables for the sauce. "Easy to think that, looking back. Thought I had the world figured out, at the time. The older I get the more naive I realise I was."

Funny, how years and years later, you feel more clueless than you ever did back then. Relationships were black and white; you either loved someone, or you didn't.

Now, the concept of love you once knew isn't one that you're entirely sure you believe in. Not in the same way you did.

"Anyways, you should shower," you say, moving the conversation along. No point dwelling on pasts that make no difference, now. "You look like shit."

He reaches over to one of the spare tomatoes and throws it in your direction. Smiles when you try to swat it away, only for it to hit your neck regardless.

"Charming as always, Byeol," he says a little dryly, but with his smile still wide.

"Well, you do," you assure him, face straight, eyes earnest.

"Show up at my place, use my hot water, start rummaging around in my fridge-" he says with a tsk .

" You invited me," you scoff right back. " Told me to shower, and I'm cooking for you . Christ alive. You really are unbearable today."

The grin on Jeongguk's face is so pretty, eyes so sparkly, that you think you want to kiss him again. Silly little thought in your silly little head. Silly, and improper, and dangerous. Disastrous, in fact.

"And," you add on, because you know you need this conversation to end. "You stink. So go and get a shower, you horrible boy."

Feeling somewhat challenged, Jeongguk lifts his arm above his head and nestles his nose right into his pit. Inhales, as if he's smelling freshly baked pie. Smiles. "Ahhhh. Delicious."

You gag.

"You wanna smell?" he offers, leaning a little further on the counter, face sweet as he encourages you. The look of repulsion on your face is exactly what he was after. "Yeah?"

"Keep that pit away from me," you warn, holding up the knife you had used to chop the tomatoes.

Despite the threat, Jeongguk edges around the kitchen island. "Yeah? Wanna smell?"

"Stay the fuck away!"

"Wait, I didn't hear you. You said come closer?"

"Gguk!"

For all your protests, the knife is back down on the counter. You tossed it down so you could run from him, but you're not really trying all that hard.

You'll pretend like you are. Wriggle from his grip when he catches you. Try and hide your laugh as he tries to quite literally smother you. Will pinch his nipple through his shirt as a form of defence. Will gag, and whine, and pretend like this is the worst experience of your life.

But in the comedown of Jeongguk's chase, you both giggling, caught in an embrace that is far too close, sauce simmering away without a care, you'll notice the stars in his eyes again. Count the constellations. Forget how to breathe, as if you really are in space without any oxygen.

"You smell like a sweaty ballsack," you tell him with absolute certainty.

Yet your grip on his shirt doesn't ease.

"You look like a sweaty ballsack," he counters. Swallows.

Neither of you pull away. Apparently, you're both partial to a sweaty ballsack. Who'd have thought?

On a fundamental, human level, you're aware that Jeongguk doesn't smell great. He is sweaty and definitely has worn that shirt for like, three days in a row, but... you like it. Oh it's disgusting . Really fucking horrid. Rancid, even.

"Shower," he just says, softly, as if he's reminding himself of what he needs to do.

You nod. "Shower."

But your hands are still holding the sides of his shirt, and his eyes can't seem to focus on yours because they keep dropping to your lips, and then his breathing is all over the place and so is yours and - fuck .

Loosening your grip, you pat the front of his chest. He doesn't move. Just closes his eyes. Nods.

"I need to check the sauce," you whisper. "Go. Shower."

And so he does as he's told. You keep yourself busy tinkering about until you hear the shower start up - at which point, you rest your palms on the counter and let your head hang between your shoulders. Sigh deeper than Marianas Trench. Shake your head. "Stupid."

You're unaware, but he's doing the exact same thing by the bathroom sink.

It had been fine. It had been fun. Why did I have to linger like that? Why did I have to make things weird? Why am I always making things so awkward?

He tosses his clothes down on the pile by the door, his on top of yours, and instantly feels a little bit better when the water hits his skin. Tries not to dwell on it, 'cause if he pretends moments like those don't happen, he won't have to deal with them. Will gaslight himself into thinking it never happened.

You're on the couch by the time he's done with his shower, legs curled up, pasta cooked and waiting in a covered saucepan for him.

"Not eating?" he asks as he notices there's no evidence of you having pasta on the coffee table.

Glancing over to him, you're reminded of post-shower Jeongguk and why the concept of it is so dangerous for you. Towel wrapped around his waist, water trailing down his abs... Yeah. You lose your mind a little. Think that any sane human would also lose theirs.

"I, uh-" you pause. Swallow. "Um. Sorry. Eat?"

"Yeah," he smirks, a little bemused. Figures you were lost in the show you're watching. Still in his shirt, your hair is pretty much dry, now, slight waves framing your face while the rest of it is still pinned back in a claw clip. You really do need to decide what you're doing with the colour. The bleach is growing out far faster than you thought it would, but you can't commit yourself to getting rid of it. Jeongguk likes the slightly messy nature of it all. Thinks it suits you. "No pasta?"

"Oh," you enthuse when you realise what he was asking. "Was just waiting for you."

He apologises. Says you should have started without him. Says he wouldn't have minded it, and thanks you again for cooking. "Smells amazing."

Quick to throw on some clean clothes, Jeongguk shoos you out of the way when he gets back to the kitchen and finds you about to plate up. Insists he does it. You've done all the hard work. He's happy to wash up, but he wants to at least contribute now.

Jeongguk takes a single bite of the pasta before he stands up, retrieves the saucepan and a heat mat, then sets it down on the coffee table.

"You okay there?" you laugh, a little puzzled by him.

When he turns to look at you, as if you've betrayed him. "You never told me you could cook, B."

He had been expecting a regular, run-of-the-mill tomato pasta - nothing wrong with that, he would have enjoyed it - but this? Oh, this is as close to heaven as humans get through food. It's rich and spicy, but also a little sweet and tangy when it needs to be. The rigatoni is cooked just right. Just how he likes it.

"You can't?" You laugh, digging into your own bowl. Admittedly, it is banging. Your favourite comfort recipe, you're quietly overjoyed that he likes it.

He shakes his head to say no. Has always enjoyed cooking. Knows he'll have to make you his signature pork belly one day. If you end up staying tonight (which he's hoping you will, even if he is awful company at the moment), he'll cook breakfast.

"I can - I just... fuck me, Byeol," he almost moans. "This shit is good."

Jeongguk's always had a good stroke game, but when it comes to stroking your ego? Yeah, he ain't bad at that, either.

He also isn't bad at turning himself into a literal human hoover. It's a miracle he doesn't choke, or get heartburn. He's already nearly polished off the leftovers from the pan before you've even made it halfway through your bowl (of which he had filled to the brim, because portion control with a body like his doesn't apparently matter).

Pasta eaten - or in Jeongguk's case, absolutely demolished - he allows himself the luxury of switching off for the first time all week. Other than a quick gym session here and there, or coffee with Hayun towards the start of the week, he hasn't taken a moment to relax at all.

You're rabbiting on about something inconsequential, just letting him exist. You know it's been a hard week. The television plays in the background, big light turned off, your feet in his lap. He stokes a little mindlessly over your ankle, self-soothing for him and just as comforting for you. He's meant to be listening, but zoned a little while ago.

Initially, he was thinking about the weird moment between you both in the kitchen earlier, but tried to get it out of his head.

Ends up thinking about the BEM twat you mentioned earlier, instead. Thinks you've got horrible taste in men - or at least, in hookups. He knows both he and Jimin could be classified in that category, but he disregards that. Or at least, he disregards himself .

At least he makes you orgasm. If he asks, will probably be horrified by the amount of times you've gone without one during intercourse. It's not always, but often. Never with him though, which is nice.

Scares you a little bit. The idea of the best sex of your life being with someone who isn't romantically involved with you just doesn't sit right. What if you fall in love and Jeongguk is still the best you've ever had? Will you be comparing? It's a variable you're yet to test out. One that worries you.

But all Jeongguk can think about is the fact that you're his friend. And he cares about you. And he thinks you deserve to feel good. And knows he can do that. And that he wants to do that. And so, quite suddenly, Jeongguk interrupts you.

"Can I get you off?"

You almost choke on your own spit. Had been explaining a new discovery of ancient mammals using tools for hunting and cooking. Not the most enticing topic of conversation, to say the least.

"Sorry?" You laugh, taken aback by the sudden request.

He looks away. Looks at his hands. Looks back at you. Wishes he wouldn't let the impulsive thoughts win, sometimes.

But then, because apparently he's a fucking idiot with no self-control, he asks again. "Can I get you off?"

The answer is always, unabashedly, yes . You've been caught off guard though. Panic. Ask, "Why?"

He shrugs. Looks at his hands again, eyes wide, brows furrowed. Wants to pour boiling water in his ear to melt his brain. Would probably work better if it was mush, he thinks. A reply to your question sits on the tip of your tongue, but there are too many variations for him to choose from - Because you deserve it. Because I'm horny. Because I want to. - so he just says: "fun."

And, like, he's not wrong. It is fun. You just thought it would be the last thing on his mind, given how stressed and sleepy he's been.

"I mean, do you want to?" you laugh, a little hot beneath the shirts of his that you're wearing by the mere suggestion of it.

He shrugs. Thinks it's a stupid question. Nods. "Get your minge out."

The horror plastered all over your face wouldn't be out of place in a Hitchcock film.

"Get my minge out?!" You hiss, your repulsion only second to shock.

"Yeah," he smirks. Is deliberately being vulgar because it's funny, and he needs this to be anything but romantic. Will lose his fucking head if he starts thinking about stars and constellations and shit like that again - but fuck . Even after a shower, you're covered in glitter! He can never fuckin' win. Is in a constant state of war with his own head. How can he ever expect to win against the milky way in human form? You'll eclipse him one day, and he'll enjoy every second of it.

"It's almost like you don't want me to get wet," you tell him, as if you didn't feel a slight twinge in your stomach when he smirked. Wasn't your fault. His lip ring did the thing. You're only human. Was bound to happen.

"I think you're already wet," he says all rather plainly.

"That's beyond the point."

It's a satisfying answer. One that makes him feel all smug. Gets his cock a little twitchy.

"Look, I'm stressed, B," he admits. "There's so much going on in my head that I can't think straight. Getting you off is, like, a stress reliever."

You furrow your brows. "Surely getting yourself off is a stress reliever?"

"I can do that at the same time, if you want?" He says, cheeky in the way he raises his eyebrows and toys with his lip ring.

"You are such a boy."

"So is that a no?"

That's the thing about you and Jeongguk; you'll never reject him.

In fact, it's probably quite futile for his whole fear of rejection thing. That'll be a thought to battle with later, though.

"It's an 'ask nicely' ."

Jeongguk gently squeezes your ankle, before getting to his feet and piling the pasta bowls into a neat stack. "Let me just wash up, alright?"

You watch him as he walks away not even waiting for a response. He does it often; wants your approval of things he's already determined to do. It's sweet, in a way. Could be frustrating, given the right circumstances, but it hasn't been so far. You just kinda keep your gaze on him, confused at how a man so reserved and cautious in one moment can be so reckless and charming in the next.

"Byeol?" He hums, flicking on the tap and reaching for the dish soap.

"Hmm?" You hum right back.

"Go wait in my room."

It takes you a second or so to follow his commands. Earns a minuscule plea from him. "Please, B."

You can't refuse him. Not really. Never have been able to.

His room is still a mess. Glitter-tarnished pillows clue you into the fact that he hasn't washed his sheets since new years - but then you remember the fact he definitely changed the bottom sheet. Colour floods to your cheeks, memories of that night crashing to the forefront of your mind.

You try to forget about it. Forget the kisses. Forget the way it sounds when Jeongguk calls you ' baby '.

This? Now? Nothing more than a stress reliever. ' Fun '.

You neaten up his bed, and tuck the takeout boxes out of sight. Turn on his cosmic mood lamp, but leave the curtains open. You preen yourself in his mirror. Realise there's something missing, so retrieve the little pot of glitter from his shelf.

The remains of the day's glitter are all over your skin, but the shower had cleansed your eyes of it. Makes you feel naked. You hate it - so quickly stipple a little in your inner corners and beneath your lash line.

It's funny. When you take off the shirt of his that you're wearing, and toss it over the back of his chair a moment later, you don't feel naked. Feel perfectly yourself. A glitter girlie through and through.

Jeongguk stops in his tracks as soon as he reaches his door frame. You're standing on the other side of his bed, a coy smile on your lips

"Fuck."

His eyes are all over you, tongue wetting his bottom lip before his teeth press down on it. Something about your body really gets him. It's likely the memories - knowing how your skin tastes, how soft your tits are and how hard your nipples can get, the pressure of your lips on his neck - that gets him even stiffer in his sweats.

He really underestimated the consequences of telling you to get your minge out. Should have thought about that.

"You're gonna kill me one day," he mutters as you get onto the bed with almost feline elegance. He walks a little closer. Meets you by the corner of his mattress. Doesn't object as you palm him through his sweats. Sighs into your touch. "God."

Perfectly poised to suck his dick, you both know that you could. He wants it. Wants it so badly he can't even begin to articulate a request.

But it's not about him. Not even when your lips press pretty kisses against the outline of his cock.

He's making you cum. He has to. Will die if he doesn't.

"On your back," he husks. "Spread your legs for me."

There's a pout on your lips, but you do as he says. When your back hits his sheets, your tits pillow on your chest, perfectly round and desperately in need of his lips around your nipples. Legs open for him, one of your hands dips to your pussy while the other cups one of your boobs. Middle and forefinger spreading your wet lips for him, you feign a little innocence.

"This what you want?"

All he can do is nod, eyes transfixed on just how good you look. Wetness seeps from you, covering you in the most glorious sheen. You're always so wet for him. So ready. So willing.

You massage yourself a little for him. Toy with your clit. Whine probably more than you really need to.

Standing at the end of his bed, cock furiously hard in the strained material of his sweats, Jeongguk wraps his hands around your ankles. Yanks you further down his bed. Gets you all giggly.

He doesn't loosen his grip straight away. Instead, he lifts your legs. Rests your heels on his shoulders. Reaches down to squeeze your boobs. Grunts. "Fuckin' tits, man."

You're grinning, still. "What of them?"

He shakes his head. Grins, too. "Fuckin' corrupted me."

"You want them in your mouth again, don't you?" You tease - but are quickly put back in your place when Jeongguk sinks a finger into your hot cunt. "Fuck."

"Keep playing with yourself," he says, before getting all shy. He's about to admit how much he likes your tits. Again . As if you don't already know. Cringes. Tilts his head to the side, nose nestling against your foot. Smiles. Looks back at you with shame and sin all over his starry features. Sinks a second finger into you. "Yeah, I wanna suck them. So fuckin' bad."

His fingers are slow as they work their way into you. In. Out. Push. Pull. It's heaven. Slow. Deep. Just like Jeongguk's eyes and the way they study the pleasure on your face. He's taking his time.

You draw dainty little circles on your clit, not wanting to take the focus away from the feeling of his fingers. The combination is lethal; the furrowing of Jeongguk's brows a trigger that could set you off at any given moment.

Something about his work ethic really gets you. He puts his all into the things he does. Wants to be the best. Endeavours to always get top marks. The way he's cramming for his exam? Yeah. It's hot. His determination? His drive? So incredibly sexy. It comes as no surprise that he's got similar prowess for making you come undone. He reads your body. Understands that the tight closing of your eyes is pleasure, not pain. Knows that the flexing of your calves against his chest, the pointing of your toes by his ears, means he's stroking at the right spot; curling his fingers just right.

His spare hand strokes up your leg. Grips your ankle, his thumb lacing itself beneath your anklet. Your head pushes back into his sheets, spine arching for him.

"Yeah?" he encourages as he continues stroking up against your front wall. "Does it feel good?"

Eyes still closed, you nod. Whimper.

A little more pressure on your clit would make you come. You aren't doing it 'cause you want this feeling to last, but you're already so close. He knows exactly how to get you on edge. Finds your weak points and exploits them for his own pleasure; the satisfaction of giving you an orgasm.

"Good," he husks, pressing his lips against the side of your foot, just cause he needs to do something with them. Fucks his fingers into a little deeper. Slower. Is dulcet as he says, "wanna fuck you so bad."

"Do it," you whine. "Fuck me. Please."

You can hear the tiny little nose breath he does as a soft smirk graces his lips. Can feel them against your foot as he shakes his head and whispers, "no."

You whine. Pout. "Gguk-"

But then he builds speed. Is so fast you can barely breathe let alone speak. Makes your entire body shake.

"That's it," he keens. "Keep rubbing your clit. You're gonna cum for me."

"Gguk."

"You're gonna cum."

Thing is, it's not a command. It's an observation. He can feel you getting tighter; feel the familiar clamp of your hot muscles against his long fingers. Knows that this is what precedes heaven on earth.

All you can do is nod. "Gonna cum."

Your hips roll up into his touch, desperate to be as full of him as you can be. As you press down on your clit, the way Jeongguk shallows his finger to directly hit your g-spot has you mewling. His fingers are fast as he repeatedly motions them upwards, the knot in your stomach growing tight and tighter and tighter - until, gradually, eventually, but all very suddenly, the rope snaps entirely.

Your orgasm washes over you like tidal waves, throbbing walls tightening around Jeongguk's fingers, your spare hand grabbing at his wrist to both stop him and keep him in place. It's too much and not enough all at the same time. You continue applying pressure to your clit as writhe in his sheets.

Jeongguk watches on, jaw slack, eyes hungry. He could watch this all day; how the creases between your brows don't ease, not even when your lips curl into a smile. How your chest heaves, and your legs jolt. God. He wishes you were a part of his exam. He'd pass with flying colours.

"You good?" He asks a little too fondly, smiling down at you.

Laughing to yourself a little, you cover your eyes with your forearm. Nod. "Good."

But you're also not done.

There's a plethora of sticky notes on his wall, and you're pretty sure Jeongguk hasn't had a release in a fair few days. He needs this more than you.

And so when you tell him to pick a sticky note, he doesn't waste time. Goes for one at waist level - figures you probably put it up, not him.

Turning back to face you, the sticky note affixed to his index finger as he reads it, his brows furrow. Face contorts. Head tilts to the side.

"What the fuck is an erotic accordion?"

—

"I don't ever wanna see you in that position again," Jeongguk shudders, decidedly not finding anything erotic about being positioned like a fucking accordion.

The mechanics of it all just do not do it for him. It's not even so much the awkwardness of you, but himself. Didn't like seeing himself in that position. Has never been so aware of his own legs during a shag. Weirded him out.

You snort. "Please - I think it was the least sexually attracted to you I've ever been."

Jeongguk toys with his lip ring, tattooed arm folded across his chest, sheets pooling just beneath his belly button. Back against his headrest, all of his pillows are on the floor. They'd just gotten in the way earlier.

You're on your back, legs up against his headrest, both mirroring and subverting his position. On top of the sheets, you're wearing one of his shirts to cover your modesty.

"So you admit it," he teases with a raise of his eyebrows as you look over towards him. Wish there were still pillows on his bed so you could hit him with one. "You do think I'm hot."

"Not when you're positioned like that," you tease right back.

It's all in good humour. Neither of you are taking any offence. The whole point of these sticky notes is to find out what you do and don't like - the erotic accordion? Yeah. You'll file that one under 'not again'.

Although the more Jeongguk thinks about it, the more open he is to it.

"Felt pretty good, though."

The position, which had been one of your sticky notes, involved him laying on his back with his knees to his chest. The thought of it now makes you giggle. He looked quite cute, all things considered. Submissive. Shy.

He's got that pensive face of his on, looking straight ahead at his desk. There's an assignment open on his dual screens, and he does need to get back to it soon, but he's making the most of a short break with you. 

His lips ring does the thing as he nibbles down on his bottom lip.

You move your leg a little to tap his head with your foot, getting his attention.

"Mhm?" he hums, eyes still unfocused.

"Did it really feel good?"

He nods. Looks at you now. Smirks, but tries to hide it. Shrugs his broad shoulders, collar bones catching on the light of his monitors. Dark outside, they're the only thing lighting up the room now that his lamp is turned off.

"Can't get that deep," he simply states. "There's, like, a lot going on around the tip. It's the most sensitive part, isn't it? So yeah."

You've always been a deep penetration girlie, but even you have to admit the shallowness of his cock pushing into only just your entrance before pulling out again felt really nice. Completely different to what you're used to - especially from him.

Glancing down his chest to where his hand rests over his crotch, you assess the situation. The sheets cover him, but you know he's a little hard beneath them.

You adjust slightly. Press your thighs together, heels against his wall.

With a hearty sign, you feign a little boredom. "Fine. I'll fuck you again."

"Sorry?" He almost giggles. Teeth on show, nose a little scrunched, he doesn't understand you, sometimes. Enjoys it, though. Likes how you aren't taking the sticky notes seriously.

It alleviates him of the pressure that would come with doing these things with anyone else, he thinks.

He knows that's the whole point of them - try these things with you, so that he doesn't have to fear rejection of asking for them with anyone else - but he's surprised at how well it seems to work.

Then again, he's not yet put any of them into practice.

Unaware of his complex thoughts, yours are far more simple: you're still horny.

The accordion really isn't all that erotic. You didn't finish. Didn't care for reciprocation, 'cause Jeongguk's got a wall full of sticky notes, and it's only just gone midnight. You know you'll be coming undone at least once more tonight - if Jeongguk's track record is anything to go by, it'll be plenty more.

Tapping his head with your foot again, you smile as his hand wraps around your ankle.

"Stop," he mumbles, nose resting on the top of your foot, lips pressing against the side of it.

You bite down on your bottom lip, a little flustered from heavenly his chocolatey eyes appear. He keeps his grip on your ankle and pulls it over his lap, encouraging your body to twist. Dragging you to straddle him, reverse cowgirl style, Jeongguk isn't shy about the fact he's hard again.

"You're so easy," you simper, slinking down like a cat, back a little arched, arms straight out ahead of you. His hands push his shirt up, and grips the soft flesh of your hips, pulling you a little further up his lap. You automatically find yourself grinding a little against him. Force of habit.

"Me?" He murmurs, gripping your ass now. He's a little rough with it. Fingers strong. You half think he's gonna spank you - but then he sinks his middle finger straight into your cunt. Still wet and wanting after the sex, Jeongguk enjoys teasing you. Likes keeping you keen. It's fun. He pulls the entire length of his finger out from you. Licks it clean. Keeps his hushed groan quiet. Fingers you again. Pulls out, again. The sound of him intruding and leaving is so satisfying. He does it again. Again, again. You're a little whimpery. "I'm the easy one?"

"Mhmm," you whine as he pushes into you again, still a single, long finger. He holds it there this time. "So easy."

The way you're positioned right now has him wanting to act on his ass-guy impulses. You kind of knew it would. He got you into this position far too easily for it not to have been something he's perfected over the years.

"Can I?" He husks, not wanting to ask the full question, hoping you'll understand.

You do. You know exactly what he wants. Wanna give him the green light without hesitation - but you're supposed to be helping one another.

"Ask properly," you say, voice contorted with the anticipation of pleasure. "Ask for what you want, Jeongguk."

"Mhh," he groans. The hand that isn't currently occupied with your pussy squeezes the soft mound of your ass. "I hate it when you make me do this."

It's almost like he's forgotten how often he makes you directly ask for things.

Your hips roll for him, Jeongguk's fingers still inside. Can't help but moan. "Gotta do it, Gguk. Gotta open yourself up for rejection."

He knows you won't say no. Knows rejection isn't on the table here, and yet he sort of worries about it, still. This is something he wants. Something he's expressed desire in; exclusively his.

Jeongguk lowers his head. Presses a kiss to where his hand was once squeezing your ass. Rests his forehead there. Groans.

"You know I want it," you husk, encouraging him. "All you gotta do is ask. Use your big boy words."

He just whines again. Is deliberately dramatic when he says, "Don't say shit like that, Byeol. I'll cum in my pants."

With a soft laugh, you turn back to look at him. Your faces are both partially obscured by the positioning of your body, but your eyes are able to meet. He's pouting. Eyes wide. Looks as if he's telling gospel truths.

"You're not gonna cum in your pants," you tell him, knowing he's a big fat liar. He's probably not even ready to go again, yet.

"No," he admits. "But I might die.

Rolling your eyes, you grin as you regain your former position. "So you want your dying words to be that of a coward, huh?"

He sighs. Knows you're right. Fucks his finger into you even deeper, stroking at your walls. Gets you a little whiney .

"Wanna eat your ass, " he gruffs, spreading your cheeks a little with his spare hand. You're on display for him, the tight muscle he's dying to get his tongue on just waiting there patiently; pristine. "Let me. Please ."

And then, quite unexpectedly, you free yourself from his grip. Pull away.

Turn to face him, and smile with a grin Jeongguk knows is trouble.

"No."

Lips hanging ajar, Jeongguk looks like he's just been hit in the chest with a paintball gun. He almost wants to question it - No? What do you mean no? - but he knows exactly what no means. Respects it. And yet he feels a little cheated.

"B..." is all he says, because, like, what the fuck? You'd practically been edging him. Forced him to ask .

"Gguk..." you tease back, obviously finding this far more amusing than he is.

His face is a picture, confusion contorting his features, silence speaking for him. It's the reaction you expected, but it makes you feel a lot more guilty than you had anticipated. It's not that you're trying to be a dick. You really did want him to do it.

But Jeongguk is also yet to face any form of rejection. The girls he's spoken to have been interested in him. Not once has he faced any sizable consequence to his questions or actions, and even though you know that asking to eat your ass isn't exactly the top of his issues, you have to reject him. Have to get him used to the feeling. Have to let him get comfortable with it.

He doesn't really know what to do. Purses his lips. Nods. Is obviously disappointed, but trying his best not to let it show.

You feel guilty. Come a little closer. Straddle his lap again, and guide his chin so that his gaze is directly on yours.

He resists at first. Is embarrassed. Feels all horrible inside. It's even worse that his cock is still hard. The entire thing is a bit mortifying. Doesn't wanna look at you, 'cause he feels stupid. Must have misread the situation. Idiot.

But he hadn't misread it all.

You hadn't planned on doing that. Just kind of had an impulsive thought - what if I do reject him? - and let it win.

"That was mean," he whispers so quietly that you almost don't hear it.

You nod, noses nudging against his. "It was."

"Say sorry," he pouts.

When you smile, a small giggle is held back. "I'm sorry. Should I kiss you?" you offer. He pulls you a little further up his lap. Makes you think a kiss is coming. "To say sorry?"

Closer, closer, closer. His nose nudges up against yours. He pauses. "No."

It's direct. To the point. Gets you in your chest a little. Rejection . Funny little thing.

"I wasn't trying to be a dick. There is a sticky note with it on, Koo," you begin to explain. Jeongguk hates how loopy that name makes his tummy feel. "It's gonna happen. I want it to happen."

Yet you didn't let it. He doesn't get it. Doesn't understand. It's a rare instance of your communication going awry.

"You made me ask," he mumbles, pouting. "And then you..."

You stay silent. Wait for him to figure it out. It takes only a second or so. You know he's cracked it when his thumbs begin to stroke against your skin like it normally does.

"And then I rejected you," you nod. Feel incredibly guilty about it now.

Living through rejection in times of vulnerability is important for him. He needs to process that it's okay; that rejection isn't automatic doom and gloom. That he can put himself out and not fear rejection - not because it will never happen, but because he can recognise that life goes on after it.

And it does. For now, though, he's still a little embarrassed.

"I hate that you did that," he says candidly, voice quiet, nose nestled against yours. Wants to stay close. Wants the comfort that comes with it. Eyes shut, his confidence feels shot to shit.

On a normal day, he'd probably not be so concerned about it all - however his emotions are running high. It's just the stress, but it's impacting all of his interactions.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"I know," he whispers right back. He genuinely does believe you are - but also believes you shouldn't have to apologise for saying no. "It's okay. 'No' is okay. You can say sorry for being a meanie, but that's all. Can't say sorry for saying 'no' , okay?"

Oh, you've never wanted to kiss him more. Give him the biggest, sweetest smooch for just being so inexorably endearing.

But you just nod. He'd said 'no' to kisses earlier.

Life goes on. Jeongguk knows this. Repeats it like an oath.

Life goes on. Life goes on. Life goes on.

"Two choices," he says. Pulls away a little. Wants to look in your starry eyes, and forget what just happened. "Choice one - we call it a night and get some sleep."

"Or?" you encourage, still feeling a little awful about the whole rejection thing.

"Or, choice two - you go and pick a sticky note, this time. We do whatever it says."

If there's one thing for certain, it's that you love a good redemption arc. Think this is a no-brainer. You hop off his lap without a second thought and pluck one off the wall at random.

Jeongguk bites down on his bottom lip as he watches you. His head is all over the place, but he knows one definite truth: you make things feel okay .

Embarrassment? It's null and void, with you. Sure, he feels it in the moment, but it always just simmers away. Disappears.

"So?" he asks, as you scan over the words of the note.

It's Jeongguk's handwriting. Is deserved, you think.

You turn it around for him to read, getting back into position on his lap. He welcomes you back, Holds your waist as you intrude on his personal space more - but is it really intruding if he's opening the door for you? Welcoming you in?

"Ah," he grins a little awkwardly. " That ."

" That ," you echo with a small giggle.

"You wanna do it?" he asks, a little cautiously this time.

You're so proud. 

He opened himself for rejection again . He can do it.

With a nod, and every muscle in your body willing your lips not to kiss him, you say, "yeah. I do."

Jeongguk grins even brighter, now. Has stars in his smile. Thoughts of twenty minutes prior don't bother him anymore.

"Alright," he sighs a little, as if he isn't secretly really keen for what's yet to come. "Let's get it."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[cloudcastor]

Alright everyone AU down below!!!

I’ve been tentatively calling it “Destiny Islands AU”

On the surface, it’s a slice of life AU.In the general context of kingdom hearts, they never left the islands, Sora is just a regular school boy and all he’s worried about is what’s he gonna do once he graduates and how he’ll keep his childhood friends post-high school.

But underneath that, this is a post KH3 AU. Sora is stuck in a (wow! so original!) simulation a lá KH2. We get the “bad” and “true” end post Yozora fight, however, this AU follows the belief that the bad ending still happens. This is while Sora is asleep and in his crystal state. Using his powers, Yozora creates this as a way to keep Sora busy and ensure he doesn’t wake up any time soon to spoil any plans.

Sora’s connection to the Real World is through Riku, who has the power to reach out to him via Dreams, however, this starts to cause discrepancies. There is a “Dream” Riku and a “Real” Riku that unintentionally swap places. As Sora’s real memories start to come through, there’s hiccups in the simulation as well. Sometimes he’ll remember an experience that he knows he didn’t go through, he’ll see a ship in the sky where he once saw a boat, and sometimes people don’t remember…..Riku.

As these memories continue to surface, Sora constantly finds himself wondering what’s a dream and what’s reality.

As an aside, there’s a bit of added lore to the islands that goes as follows. The motto is Destiny Islands: of Fate, Fortune & Future.

This is thematically relevant:

FATE (memories): Play island; Where things are predestined to happen

FORTUNE(simulation): Main Island; prosperity from land, community, and tradition

FUTURE (reality): Big Island; Where those go who want change

How does this relate to Sora?

The Play Island is where the discrepancies start, and it’s where Riku first shows up. It’s a place that isn’t tied down to whatever rules the rest of the simulation is running on. A bit of a limbo if you will. This is where Sora starts to regain his true sense of self.

The Main Island is the simulation at large. It has the town, his family's shop, the school and the grocer. It’s as close to normalcy as you would imagine. If Riku hadn’t shown up Sora would probably still be stuck in the routine of it all…

The “Big Island” exists as more of a vague threat. Sora doesn’t realize that “Riku graduating and leaving the main island” means “Riku is somewhere where I'm not” to him. At least not yet. It’s also his feelings manifesting of Riku having left the islands already, except this time he has no way to follow.

Okay but where is the soriku?

It’s the Vibes™

My initial thoughts are that this is a place that’s familiar to Sora, but since it’s a world without “conflict”, it leaves him bored and reflective. Life has only ever been this hometown. Even before Riku shows up, Sora is slowly unlocking thoughts and emotions he hasn’t had the time to sit and think about for quite some time. We know he has feelings of sadness, anger, and hopelessness. Without the constant threat of the worlds falling to darkness, or friends being in danger, how would he deal with these emotions without the context. I’m sure it has him feeling confused and at a bit of a loss. The desperation starts to kick in as he imagines this dull life without Riku, he’ll do anything so he won’t get left behind(….again). It starts to break the simulation even more.

On Riku’s end… he has no idea what’s going on! Seeing Sora constantly “Dream” about the islands makes him feel guilty that he isn’t searching hard enough or that he’s not bringing him home fast enough. He truly believes Sora wants to “return home” and since he never sees himself in this simulation (because he takes his own spot) he believes it to be a home where he doesn't belong. A home he’s not welcome to return to.

However, that doesn’t stop him from at least trying to get Sora back. It’s the least he could do after all. He tells himself it’s strictly his responsibility and nothing more.

Buuuuut….. As they catch themselves meeting up from time to time, lines begin to blur. Sora thinks Real Riku is actually Dream Riku. Riku thinks Sora is simply stuck in a dream world cycle and unaware of what he’s doing. They let themselves be more honest, not knowing they are talking with each other and idk maybe they get to kiss as a treat…

The rest is a bit more of a secret since I might do something with this in the future (looks at my hands….i wanna make a comic. so bad…) but for now that’s the gist of it!

Thanks for lookin :-)

[eluxcastar]

number 13 with pierro im BEGGING on my knees

Number 13 with Pierro because eiscoathanger begged on their knees

── ୨୧：pierro x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: another number thirteen from the prompts

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 1.2k

"I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I’ve met."

yk I got stuck cause I didn't wanna repeat every other thirteen request and then suddenly LIGHTBULB 🫵 I thought of how to make this apply to reader in a different context than just insecurity. I think that worked well with the ones I did it for but as I said I didn't wanna do that for everyone we need some fresh homegrown v a r i e t y🤞 that lightbulb unfortunately did not come through on the title

Pierro is a gentleman who once had a kinder heart. Time has weathered that man away into a colder shell, the remnants of a homeland once prosperous torn apart by the gods. It's never a pretty sight to see a traveller who appears weary and lost.

There is light in his life, a child born in the lands under the rule of gods, ironically.

You barreled into his world, elven-born and undying, to wreak havoc on his life and destroy any semblance of carefully crafted peace. You refuse to be tamed, can't settle in one place for too long, and have a hard time with authority. He hates it, though it is admittedly quite endearing. The commitment to never tying yourself down is admirable, yet irritating, as you showed up once every few years for a decade or two before he managed to convince you to stay for a little while longer and indulge him.

It is certainly not easy to calm your free spirit, but he manages. He bends to your whims and wants and finds any number of reasons to keep you put. You humour him because he's working so hard just for the little attention you will spare him.

Pulcinella told him to cut you loose while he could, but he wouldn't— couldn't, by some accounts. You're too overwhelming to simply give up on, bursting in with the destructive power of a natural disaster to spend your time pleasantly at ease with him. Though you destroy every semblance of peace in your path, you offer respite in return, the open arms to greet him when the world is too much. Responsibility falls away into the background of his mind so easily in your arms. It's as if your carelessness rubs off on him with every night you let him settle into your embrace.

You are made for the long flow of time, and each year builds you up. With each passing year, Pierro feels his humanity slip away, like the sands of time seeking to grind him down to nothing but reputation.

None of his inhibitors stop you, unchained by duty and with practically no responsibility to speak of. In a perfect world, he may have adapted even half as well to his sudden lack of home, but barely decades past, the thought of abandoning everything he has worked for sickens him like the highest betrayal. He cannot help but envy your careless disposition.

A home existed for you at one point— probably still does— but you grew bored with it like many things in your life and left it. The world is bigger than one town, area or nation, you reasoned. He can't argue with that outlook.

It is not wrong, but it is flawed, a fact that you are aware of. Staying in one place starts to make you go batty—Pierro can't argue with that either. The less excitement you find naturally in your life, the more you seek to create the excitement you find yourself lacking. That habit is responsible for how much you manage to disrupt him.

The first few times, it was dismissed as a lack of self-awareness. You hadn't yet picked up on his schedule or when he's most busy, so showing up at those times was a coincidence. That is until he realises you do it intentionally. The coincidence is far too convenient to ignore after the first few times.

Your stay as Snezhnaya—a favour to him—is beginning to irk you, and you search for any way you can to make him send you away.

You can't take back your eager agreement, but you can drive Pierro up the wall until he regrets asking it of you. He figures that out within practically seconds of realising that you're doing it on purpose. With that confirmed, his first question was naturally why and while he could have jumped to you simply stirring trouble, it makes more sense for you to be trying to worm your way out of your commitment without losing the opportunity to have him owe you.

It is conniving, and maybe he could fault you for it if only owing you didn't inadvertently work in his favour.

It means someday you'll come knocking when you need him to help you.

You'll come back of your own volition.

There are many nights he thinks of you, your many charms some would call flaws. More than anything, you are interesting, a seeker of adventure with more knowledge to offer than any mere book could hold. You have stories from eras he never lived in and advice you stole from the elderly across the continent for him, returning to greet him with a cheeky smile and some outrageous demand.

Perhaps Pierro should've expected that much, but the trouble you put him through is worth it when he's faced with your smile. Anything to hear you say, "I knew the moment I thought of it exactly who to ask," as if you believe he should have any idea how to make the impossible possible and grant your ridiculous wishes. 

All of it is enough to bring you back to Snezhnaya, back to him where he can see your eccentricities unfold before him. Pierro will wonder endlessly why he's dealing with this, then remind himself of why when he looks at you.

He is dealing with this because you asked it of him.

"Though maybe I did ask too much of you," you add. Pierro likes the way your hand runs through his hair when you say that, perhaps the gentlest thing you're capable of.

You do that to everyone, he wants to say, but only musters a "For you, nothing is too much," in response.

"You'll regret saying that," you warn him. He knows he will.

He likes the way you lean on his shoulder without even asking him first, like you own it, and he's just minding it for you. Maybe he is.

Something happened between now and the first day you met for him to be so utterly taken with you, whether because you did something to him or he was struck by one last curse to love someone whose life is so tumultuous. You should be everything that infuriates him.

A chuckle slips past his defences, the kind only you manage to pull from him, the source of fiery passion somehow able to melt his heart. "Perhaps," he says, "but I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I've met."

It is not lost on him how your head briefly lifts as you try to gauge how serious that way, only to return to his side as you lay your head back against his shoulder and resign yourself to simply accepting he's being overly sentimental as you frequently claim he is.

Sentimental or not, he wouldn't mind you showing up to ruin more of his carefully planned days.

[lovethatmakingcoffee]

Small town au stuff

Philza is kindhearted yet oddly knowledgeable and mysterious resident who seems wiser beyond his years and may or may not be a witch. Especially questionable is that giant ass hat of his. Maybe a witch. He is retired and has a suspiciously large income, and somehow knows how to fly a plane?!! Maybe a retired vet or spy? Its undetermined. Or maybe just your basic crop duster. He does talk about potatoes a lot for some reason.

Foolish, your local cop and sheriff. The heart throb of the police department and kind of the definition of abuse of power (but only when its funny). He'll probably let you off for speeding or doing donuts in corn fields. His previous job was the town's major architect, which he still builds sometimes, but wanted to harass random people as a police officer for a new temporary occupation.

Quackity, the emotional weirdo teacher who's got attachment issues out the wazoo. He is sweet, but spirals sometimes. Its been rumored that he's been beaten up by Phil's kid for reasons unexplained.

Wilbur, of course, the aspiring musician. Gets confused a lot for other famous people, but plays at events when he's home. Loves his kid, but has been gone for most of the year and feels insecure for not calling her as much.

Jaiden, the town's lawyer who is rolling in it. She wins a lot of her cases and maybe does some of the illegal legwork to prove her client's innocence or the accused guilty. She does a lot of investigating with Foolish and has a key to the polices archive room. She has gotten noise complaints about her two loud birds.

Forever, a new resident along with the other Brazilians who all live in his giant pink Barbie house until Cellbit moves out to get married. Forever quickly gains popularity among the town's residence and becomes mayor of Quesadilla Town. He has been chasing after Philza this whole time, but there are whispers that he has a thing for the local pastor.

Badboyhalo, the priest, which Forever has remarked that's probably the strangest one out of the town's peoples names but it fits. Bad is a strangely wealthy and knowledge priest. His face is always masked by shadows and a hood. He always appears out of nowhere and seems to derive amusement from spooking the other residents. Forever thinks that's cute.

Roier, from Jaiden's platonic roommate to Cellbit's husband, man has never had a job and is just a trophy roommate/husband. Always physically fit, the life of the party and if the town had a best looking competition, he'd be at least top 5. Spends his day working out and is often seen on long runs in the woods. He may or may not be the one always finding weird things on his runs. Like a random artifact or an unfamiliar body.

Cellbit, town's journalist. Always looking for clues on the strange going ons and always has one of those huge boards with photos, tacks, and red thread. Man hardly sleeps and is running on six cups of coffee a day. Get him some water.

Fit, he owns of course Fit's Fitness. The sexiest personal trainer in the county and has a prosperous business. Him and Phil are somehow friends, and he weirdly seems to know things he shouldn't. Has been seen fraternizing with the weird agents that come through town and cover stuff up.

Baghera is another school teacher in Quesadilla town. She is the funnier one but also there seems to be an immense sadness to her. She avoids any special agent from the Cucurucho Factory.

Etoiles is a mysterious vigilant who fights suspicious figures and deadly monsters in the night. He's kind of the ex machina of the town and can be found lurking in the back alleys. He may or may not be a clerk at your local giftshop.

Cucurucho is an interesting and strange character, a business man in a white suit wearing a bear mask at all times. He runs the Cucurucho Institution along with its factory and seems to hold some bizarre legal authority over the town. He also has connections in the hospital and school and all around is just a sketchy person. He has many of his underlings do his bidding around town and they have been seen dumping chemicals in the river and interrogating certain residents.

Pac is your new local gym teacher and has stolen the town's physical trainer's heart. They've been having a cute shy will they won't they. It's extremely obvious to the whole town. He is best friends with the mad scientist science teacher Mike. And they get up to shenanigans. And for a gym teacher, the guy sure is smart and knows a lot of ways to build things. He's like the ultimate package!

Missa is Phil's platonic husband who is always away on business trips. He shows up into town for about a week then has to head out again to do business related business. He is jealous of Phil's love interests but also won't deny how hot they are and that also makes him insecure.

Charlie is the troubled baker/conessieur in town. He always has a creepy smile about him when you ask what's in his food, but he's just screwing with you and its actually delicious. He has been seen dragging huge lumpy bags with red liquid pouring out of it and swears it's just strawberry jam. Turns out if you licked the floor, it is. His favorite dessert to make is green jello.

Tubbo is the weird little mechanic that is always putting bizarre attachments to your vehicle and making odd do dads in his spare time. No one knows where he got his mechanic license, but no one mentions that he's probably doing this illegally cause of his sweet deals.

Mouse is a famous vtuber who may be working with the occult on the side for the funsies. Is she running a cult? Perhaps. But it would be funny if she did. Anyways she has a lovely home and gives lots of her money as donations to less sketchy hospitals.

[the-shiftshop]

Origins of the Shop: The Shop and its Founders

As part of the 2,000 Followers milestones, The Shift Shop presents, Origin of the Shop.

AI Image generated through DeepAI. This story is completely a work of fiction. Historical features may not be accurate.

DATA RETRIEVED FROM THE ARCHIVES OF THE SHIFT SHOP. REPORT NARRATED BY TIMOTHEO HYEONGJU LEE.

-

It was around 1910s, when the Japanese took control of Korea. The suppression against Koreans was bad. I witness my people get bruttaly treated by the foreignmen in our own land. My family, I lost my own immediate family in just a month after they took hold of our country. I decided to find a way to escape this hell. Boarded a trading ship from China, making sure no one can trace me. I managed to do so, landing me to a foreign country I have never known.

I managed to escape Korea and arrived in the Philippines through a ship. I couldn't speak their language, but I can do a few English or so. I couldn't make any more suspicion, so I decided to stay low, but in tough times, one shall do anything to survive.

One day, I was starving. I had no money, nor any means of getting any, so I learned to steal. A few days, I managed to get food without getting caught, but that didn't last long as an American soldier saw me stealing bread at a local shop. They chased me around town, and I tried to run for my life.

That is when I met Stephen Diaz, a soap store owner. He hid me in his shop until the soldiers eventually gave up in looking for me.

"You can stay here. I'll make sure you're part of a family from now on."

Diaz was 3 years older than I am. He treated me like a younger brother and kept me in like what he promised, like a part of a family. Diaz, too, is alone. His family died under the Spanish Regime and making soap and selling them is his primary way to survive. Throughout those years of living in his shop, we became business partners. Eventually, we don't just sell soaps anymore. I thought him how to make herbal tea. We bought ceramics from chinese merchants we can use to brew them. We started selling tea leaves and herbs.

Although, business wasn't that great. Our sales didn't go well and eventually we get our feet deep in debt. We thought of everything we can do, but we had to close the shop.

It was devastating to see Diaz, my best friend and brother, working harder in other ways just to support us both, while I couldn't do anything. I can't find a job or people will suspect me for being here illegally. All I can do for Diaz is make him tea every night.

One night, I was harvesting herbs from our backyard. I saw a gleaming light a few bushes away from I am. Upon exploring, there I saw a floating white crystal. I felt it calling onto me. I hear it promising me things that can help us get back to our feet.

"I promise you a way to be more prosperous. A power to help those in need, and also to help you."

I was blinded by it, but I know how truthful its words are, I just don't know why. I came closer, and then I held it in my palm, and then that was the day I was bestown the power I hold now. Power coursed through my veins. Hunger and pain disappeared. I was stonger, less stress. I just know I felt better.

I took the crystal inside and kept it where we usually put our income every single day. The next day, I decided to open the shop once more, giving it one last chance.

Diaz and I were surprised with what's going on. Soaps advertised to bring your youthful skin back, started to actually turn people younger the longer they use it. Teas that promises strength started to make people bigger, healthier. We are in awe.

People started coming in, amazed with our miracle. Everyone were celebrating, except for one person, Diaz.

Diaz was skeptical with the promise of the crystal. He said there's a big possibility that the crystal was offered by an Engkanto, or a Mambabarang, who purposely didn't say that there's a catch with this power. That night, we argued. He begged me to throw the crystal away, but I can't just do that. All I want was to help Diaz, or maybe I was too greedy with the power I now have.

Diaz and I pulled against the cystal on each end, accidentally splitting it in half. I felt my power lessen, and saw the other half Diaz was holding turn black.

Right that moment, we noticed light coming out from the shop and saw people with torches and pitchforks, screaming at us, calling us witches and monsters. People started to abuse our store products and saw what can happen when they overuse it, and they blamed us for what happened to those people.

They started storming in the shop. Diaz was caught by the people.

"THEO!" He screamed as he reach his hand to me, "Help me!"

But before I know it, the crystal in my hand generated a big wave of force, pushing everyone outside, incluing Diaz, and with my last scream, everyone disappeared.

It was quiet. What used to be night sky, now sunlight peaks throught the window. I can hear chirping of the birds oustide. That is when I realized, the whole shop was transported to a different place.

I was alone. Whatever happened to Diaz, I have no clue. All I have was his shop, and the crystal.

From then point on, I built the shop on my own, using the powers bestown to me, fulfilling what duties the crystal gave me, helping others and myself.

Diaz, if only I were able to save you. My deepest regrets and apologies. I'll find you soon.

[alliluyevas]

Here's a potentially controversial AG question for you.

Do you think adult Felicity would continue to own slaves?

Oh, wow, yeah, this is a heavy hitter. Honestly, historically and statistically, almost certainly yes. But there is definitely a semi-plausible chance otherwise.

I'm going to reframe this question slightly, because due to the legal system of coverture in her time, if Felicity marries, which she almost certainly will, her husband will have ownership of any property either of them bring into the marriage. So the question is more accurately: will adult Felicity be the wife and mistress of a household that owns slaves?

I don't mean to reduce adult!Felicity's moral or personal agency, but the answer to this question may also depend on who she marries, both in terms of his socioeconomic status and his personal beliefs about slavery.

Felicity's father and maternal grandfather are both slaveholders in the book series, though in different socioeconomic niches. Mr. Merriman is a shopkeeper in town with two enslaved laborers, Marcus and Rose. Grandfather is a plantation owner and there is presumably a larger workforce. (I can't remember exactly what the legal situation is after Grandfather dies in the final book, but I believe Mr. Merriman inherits the plantation through his wife which would imply she has no brothers, and then administers it while primarily living in town. I could just be completely making that up, though, and I couldn't find confirmation online and don't have my Felicity books on me at the moment.)

If she marries a man who is similar in socioeconomic status to her father (ie, a relatively prosperous shopkeeper or artisan in Williamsburg) he will likely own or rent slaves. If she marries someone similar to her grandfather, he definitely will. I can see either of these routes as plausible for Felicity. Living primarily in Williamsburg, she may be most likely to encounter townsfolk, but she would also potentially be courted by young men attending college at William and Mary, who would likely be from plantation families elsewhere in Virginia, or she might marry the son of one of Grandfather's neighbors or something. (Side note: there is one existing character in her books who might be a potential future Mr. Felicity: her father's apprentice, Ben. Felicity and Ben clearly get along really well and have a lot in common, and when Felicity reaches the age where she is thinking about marriage, Ben will likely be around, either still working with Mr. Merriman or a business acquaintance/family friend. It wasn't uncommon to marry someone with that kind of family/business connection at all. If Felicity were to marry Ben, he would likely eventually be in a similar socioeconomic niche to her father.)

So, what are the possible futures where Felicity and her husband are not slaveholders?

First of all, she could marry someone who is socioeconomically in a position where he simply cannot afford to do so. This is, imo, the least likely. I don't think her parents would encourage this. (I think Mrs. Merriman may have married slightly "beneath her" as I kind of got the vibe that Grandfather is wealthier than Mr. Merriman is, and he certainly is in terms of ownership of both land and slaves, which is how wealth was generally calculated in Virginia. On the other hand, this might also be a town/country divide, and Mr. Merriman is evidently able to comfortably provide for his family.) Also, if she was to fall in love with and marry someone of a lower socioeconomic rank, it is possible that her family would financially help him rise rather than that Felicity would just go off and be broke with him.

I think a more plausible route would be that Felicity either marries a man who is actively against slavery and her beliefs are then influenced by him or she independently develops anti-slavery convictions prior to her marriage and then chooses a man who has similar beliefs.

I do want to point out that there were a lot of Virginians in this general period who expressed anti-slavery beliefs while still continuing to own slaves. I think in many cases these people were experiencing genuine moral discomfort and conflict but ultimately chose to prioritize their own financial well being. I think, unfortunately, the most likely future may be one where Felicity experiences some moral qualms over slavery and questions some aspects of the society she lives in, but ultimately chooses to stick with the status quo.

However, I think there are some semi-plausible paths where Felicity and her husband might end up in a situation where they choose genuinely meaningful opposition to slavery. There are other situations in the AG books where characters get an ending that is better if historically less plausible, after all. (IE Addy's family is able to reunite. Samantha's relatives adopt Nellie.) Even if it's unlikely, this outcome for Felicity would not be unheard of.

For instance, she might marry a Northerner and goes to live wherever he is from. (If he chooses to move to Virginia permanently, he might also choose to conform to the economic system of the slave culture in his adopted state.) This happened with one of Thomas Jefferson's granddaughters who married a man from Massachusetts and moved up there with him. This would have been a woman about a generation younger than Felicity, but it's not outside the realm of possibility to happen earlier, either. I can't really picture Felicity wanting to leave her home and family, but if she's already developed anti-slavery beliefs on her own she might think it's worth it.

She might also marry a Virginian who believes slavery is wrong and is actually willing to do something about it. I wish I could remember the man's name, but I was just reading about some young plantation owner who wrote to Jefferson in the 1820s about his deep discomfort with slavery and his desire to free his slaves. Jefferson basically advised him to go slow and do nothing for the time being, and this man wrote him again chewing him out saying it wasn't enough. He ultimately chose to leave Virginia, and settle in Ohio, where he purchased plots of land so that his newly freed former slaves could start their own farms. This is later than Felicity would have been finding a husband, and this man's decision was one very few of his peers would have made. But, again, it's not impossible.

I think the man I just talked about had primarily ethical objections to slavery, not religious ones, but I think the most plausible way for Felicity to develop meaningfully anti-slavery convictions is through religion. The Second Great Awakening would have begun when Felicity was in her mid-twenties. Some people in Southern states who became evangelical Christians during this time period began to believe that slavery was a sin against God. The most famous example of this is Robert Carter III, a Virginia plantation owner who became a Baptist and ended up freeing over 500 people. (He also ended up having to flee the state of Virginia because people were threatening him over this and lived the rest of his life in Baltimore.) Evangelical conversions were most common among the lower classes, especially in the beginning, but also took off among women from higher social classes. Robert Carter notwithstanding, wealthier men were the least likely to be born again. So I think it's very plausible that Felicity might choose to become a Methodist or Baptist, but if she was 25+ at the time she would likely already be married and it is less likely her husband would also convert. So she might end up in a situation where she is opposed to slavery but her husband, who does not share her religious beliefs, is not, and he controls their property. Or, it's possible she marries later than the average, or she is widowed young and remarries a man from her church, or manages to convert her husband.

So, I can definitely see some pathways for an anti-slavery adult Felicity, but it would require both her and her husband to develop convictions and the moral courage to enact them that were highly unusual for people in their class and context. Unusual, but not unheard of.

[southeastasianists]

Singapore’s prosperity has long set it apart from many other former British colonies. There is another difference, too: Singapore has clung to honouring its former colonial ruler — and it wants to keep doing so.

Special accolade has gone to Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, who is considered to have founded modern Singapore in the early 1800s. For decades, Singapore’s textbooks credited Raffles with transforming the island from a “sleepy fishing village” into a thriving seaport. He has been the central character in a larger official narrative that says imperial Britain had set up Singapore for success as an independent nation.

Dedications to Raffles dot the landscape of Singapore. A business district, schools and dozens of other buildings bear his name. Two 2.5-metre likenesses of the man loom large in downtown Singapore.

But a new statue of Raffles, installed in a park in May, has revived a debate about the legacy of colonialism in Singapore. On one side is the broader establishment, which has held up British colonial rule positively. On the other are those who want a closer inspection of the empire that Raffles represented and the racial inequity he left behind, even as Singapore became wealthy.

This divide has surfaced before, perhaps most prominently a few years ago when Singapore celebrated the bicentennial of Raffles’ arrival on the island. Now, the new statue has set off a fresh debate, with critics pointing out that other countries have for years been taking down monuments to historical figures associated with slavery or imperialism, or both.

“The thing about Raffles is that, unfortunately I think, it has been delivered as a hagiography rather than just history,” said Alfian Sa’at, a playwright who wants to see the Raffles statues destroyed. “It’s so strange — the idea that one would defend colonial practice. It goes against the grain on what’s happening in many parts of the world.”

The new statue of Raffles stands next to one of his friend Nathaniel Wallich, a Danish botanist, at Fort Canning Park. Tan Kee Wee, an economist who pooled $330,000 with his siblings to commission the statues, said he wanted to commemorate the pair’s role in founding Singapore’s first botanic gardens, which were his frequent childhood haunt. He donated the sculptures in his parents’ name to the National Parks Board.

Opponents have also criticised the government for allowing the statue to go up at the park because it was the site of the tomb of precolonial Malay kings. The parks board said it considered historical relevance in the installation of the sculptures.

Questions about the statue have even been raised in Singapore’s parliament. In June, Desmond Lee, the minister for national development, responded to one by saying that Singapore did not glorify its colonial history. At the same time, Lee added, “We need not be afraid of the past.”

The plaque for the Raffles statue explains how Singapore’s first botanic gardens “cultivated plants of economic importance, particularly spices”. That, critics said, was a euphemism for their actual purpose: cash crops for the British Empire.

Tan defended the legacy of British colonialists in Singapore, saying they “didn’t come and kill Singaporeans”.

He added: “Singapore was treated well by the British. So why all this bitterness?”

Far from benign

But colonial Britain was far from benign. For instance, it treated nonwhite residents of Singapore as second-class citizens. Raffles created a town plan for Singapore that segregated people into different racial enclaves. And he did not interact with the locals, said Kwa Chong Guan, a historian.

“He was very much a corporate company man, just concerned with what he assumed to be the English East India Co’s interests,” Kwa said.

Raffles landed in Singapore in 1819 as Britain was looking to compete with the Dutch in the Malacca Strait, a crucial waterway to China. At the time, Singapore was under the sway of the kingdom of Johor in present-day Malaysia. Raffles exploited a succession dispute in Johor to secure a treaty that allowed the East India Company to set up a trading post in Singapore.

Within a handful of years, Singapore was officially a British territory. Convict labour, largely from the Indian subcontinent, was crucial to its economic development. So, too, were Chinese immigrants, which included wealthy traders and poor labourers.

Singapore achieved self-governance in 1959, then briefly joined Malaysia before becoming an independent republic in 1965. It has since built one of the world’s most open economies and among its busiest ports, as well as a bustling regional financial hub.

In recent years, the government has acknowledged, in small ways, the need to expand the narrative of Singapore’s founding beyond Raffles. Its textbooks now reflect that the island was a thriving centre of regional trade for hundreds of years before Raffles arrived.

In 2019, officials cast the commemoration of Raffles’ arrival as also a celebration of others who built Singapore. A Raffles statue was painted over as if to disappear into the backdrop. Placed next to it, though only for the duration of the event, were four other sculptures of early settlers, including that of Sang Nila Utama, a Malay prince who founded what was called Singapura in 1299.

To some historians and intellectuals, such gestures are merely symbolic and ignore the reckoning Singapore needs to have with its colonial past. British rule introduced racist stereotypes about nonwhites, such as that of the “lazy” Malay, an Indigenous group in Singapore, that has had a lasting effect on public attitudes. Colonialism led to racial divisions that, in many ways, persist to this day in the city-state that is now dominated by ethnic Chinese.

“If you only focus on one man and the so-called benevolent aspect of colonialism, and you don’t try to associate or think about the negative part too much, isn’t that a kind of blindness, or deliberate amnesia?” said Sai Siew Min, an independent historian. (Story continues below)

Role of race

Race relations played a role in Raffles’ ascension in Singaporean lore. Soon after Singapore became independent, the governing People’s Action Party — which remains in power decades later — decided to officially declare Raffles the founder of Singapore. Years later, S Rajaratnam, who was then the foreign minister, said that anointing a Malay, Chinese or Indian as its founder would have been fraught.

“So we put up an Englishman — a neutral, so there will be no dissension,” Rajaratnam said.

The decision was also meant to indicate that Singapore remained open to the West and free markets.

In a 1983 speech, Rajaratnam acknowledged that Raffles’ attitude toward the “nonwhite races was that without British overlordship the natives would not amount to much”.

Critics of the Raffles statues also argue that his legacy should reflect his time on the island of Java. Although Raffles outlawed slavery in Singapore, he allowed trading of slaves in Java, including children as young as 13, according to Tim Hannigan, who wrote a book about Raffles.

The new statues of Raffles and Wallich were created by Andrew Lacey, a British artist. The sculptures evoke the two men as apparitions — symbolism that Lacey said represented the world’s evolution away from the West.

Lacey said he had “wrangled” with the public reaction toward his sculptures and he had no qualms if Singaporeans wanted to take them down, destroy them or replace their heads with the Malay gardeners who were instrumental in creating the botanic gardens.

“I was cognisant of the complexities of making any dead white male,” he said of Raffles. “I wasn’t cognisant of the degree of complexity around him.”

[flowersonpebbles]

Week 1: Origins 1. Family – Hawke

TW: violence, blood, character deaths, angst, ot3

@elfroot-and-laurels

Malcolm was her father, born in Ferelden, but his grandparents were from very far away. Emmerhikka swears she and the twins couldn’t come from just him, but it sure looks like they did. Emmerhikka and Carver have more hair - like Leandra does, though. Emikka and Bethany are also taller than Carver and Malcolm. The girls both have profound magic as well… Malcolm taught her to control it since she was young, she had to after all. To hide it and still have her talents prosper was important to stay free of the Circle and not fall prey to demons. True, her talents were innate, but at times it felt so inane to be taught things she wasn’t even allowed to use in her life regularly.

She wanted to help Carver fit in though, her baby brother oft felt left out when the girls were being taught magicks by their father. So, when they were done for the day with magic, Emikka stole Carver away, looking for any swordsman kind enough to entertain two children by teaching them tricks and important things to keep in mind in battle. She even scoured a sword as big as the little boy once when they were on the move again. She made a good friend with a soldier at one town and trained Carver alone when Emikka was busy with lessons with her sister. Emikka also wanted to know how to protect without magic though, so she made sure to make her staff weighted at all times, with blades at the tips to make something akin to a lance in Ferelden. She also made sure she was the one to chop wood everyday – it made her arms stronger.

One day, mere months before Malcolm had died, he found Emikka training with her lance. He looked sad, and said something that has stuck with her since. “Remove the weights, you no longer need them. If you are forever burdened with limitless weights, you shall eventually shatter.” He helped her remove the weights that day, helped her remake her staff with a longer blade and called it a naginata, a precious gem at the top of her new naginata, one she’s yet to see anywhere else except from his staff where he had removed it for her. He called it a jade gem, it always helped for increasing his healing powers.

Emmika has gone through many staffs through the years in Ferelden and Kirkwall, but she always kept the jade gem firmly tied to any staff in use, never selling it. It couldn’t heal Bethany after the ogre attacked her and it also didn’t cure the Blight from Wesley, nor Carver… It was nearly thrown to pieces when Leandra died in her arms, for it did nothing. For all her healing spells, everyone died that was blood, or doomed to live a short life. Yet she lived. Maybe she should break the jade, divide it so each of her friends-new  family should have a piece to keep them alive… Especially Fenris and Isabella.

Maybe her father meant to curse her with some sort of immortality with this jade, so she can be his legacy. The last of the Hawke bloodline. She won’t touch blood magic like he or Merrill did, though. It mortifies her too much…

Until she was pushed too far – mortified of something even more horrifying than blood magic- in the fade, that is…