#I have two ‘dream’ mouse colours but if I fall in love with someone along the way I'll be happy with that too!!

[an-albino-pinetree]

Hello hello! Sorry for broadcasting this so soon, after me spouting about the Ko-Fi itself, I promise not to be annoying with it. <:] I have a goal set on Ko-Fi, if anyone’s interested in supporting, or sending a request over there!

CHANGE OF PAW-LANS 🐾

So- long story short, today my dad said yes to a cat, after my mom and I asking him for genuinely 20 years. He randomly said it’s a yes, you’re an adult, it’s your money.

🌲 So! Now my KO-FI goal has changed! help me spoil the kitten!! In return, you will get drawing requests and kitten pictures, when I’ve decided, and the baby is home!! 💚💚💚

Here’s the story, kinda! If anyone’s interested!

[dreamerstreamer]

Breathless

Pairing: Dream / Clay x asthmatic!gn!reader

Summary: Life with a chronic illness isn’t always easy, and some days are more difficult than others, but you always manage to find yourself breathing a little easier with Clay by your side.

Warnings: tw// depiction of asthma & asthma attack

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: my second commissioned story! this work has been altered from its original form so that everyone can read it, but the plot and writing remain largely the same. this was more specific and required more research than the stories i typically write, but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless! <3

The smell of sanitizer and antiseptics tickled your nose as you pushed past the hospital office door, folding the piece of paper tucked in your hands into quarters. Slipping it into your pocket, you raised your chin, the paper resting comfortably next to the familiar weight of your inhaler. You stretched your arms above your head with a small groan, rolling your shoulders back as you made your way down the hall with a small bounce in your step.

Respiratory therapy may be good for you, but your favourite part was still when you got to go home.

You rubbed your hand over the patch stuck to the inside of your forearm, the tiniest hint of red colouring the ivory white cloth as you pressed your fingers gently against it. Letting out a sigh, you faced forward once more, your eyes lighting up as the waiting room came into view. Walking a little faster, you was just about to head into the waiting room when you froze, your eyes falling on the figure sitting in a chair pressed up against the wall adjacent to you.

Clay was drumming one hand against his thigh as the other scrolled leisurely through his phone, Tweet after Tweet flying by on his screen. In his ears hung a pair of earbuds, and you could see him gently bobbing his head along to the beat of whatever song he was listening to, his foot quietly tapping against the tiled hospital floor. You traced your eyes over the bridge of his nose and the crest of hair that tickled the top of his forehead, a fond warmth rushing through your chest.

He always waited for you no matter what, even if you told him not to. It didn’t matter if he had a stream planned just a few minutes after your session would wrap up or if he was in the middle of editing a video—he would drop everything to wait for you, patient and caring as always. He was just stubborn like that, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to get him to swallow his pride, as much as you may try.

Blinking as you gazed at him, a thought suddenly popped into your head, a devilish ember tickling at the base of your spine. Your lips split into a sly grin, your eyes narrowing as the cogs in your head churned. Ever so slowly, you crept over to his side, just barely keeping yourself out of view until you were standing just diagonally behind him, a single step away. As quiet as a mouse, you reached your hand forward and dipped your head down beside his ear, gently tapping his shoulder. With a start, Clay jumped in his seat, his eyes shooting wide open as he whipped his head up to look at you. In a flash, he was tearing out his earbuds, his phone going slack in his hands and a bright smile tugging at his lips.

“Boo,” you whispered, waving your hand at him as your lips stretched widely across your face.

“Hey,” he said, gentle and warm as he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers between his. “You done with therapy for today?”

You beamed proudly, bobbing your head. “Yep. We’re all good to go.”

The gleam in his eyes was as sweet as honey as he got to his feet, slipping his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. He tilted his head at you, and before you could ask if anything was wrong, he had raised his free hand to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. A second later, he was dipping his head to yours, and you shivered at the warmth of his lips pressing against your forehead while he murmured into your skin, “Perfect.”

When he pulled back, he squeezed your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles lovingly. With one last grin, the two of them began to stroll out of the waiting room and into the front hall.

“So,” he said after a moment as they turned a corner, “how did everything go, today? Did anything different happen?”

You shrugged, gesturing vaguely. “Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Got my blood oxygen level checked, did some breathing tests and exercises—” You eyed the small patch on your arm with a wistful glance. “Just the usual.”

A comfortable silence washed over them as they swung their arms together in a charmingly off-beat rhythm, occasionally brushing their sides up against one another with a small smile. Beside you, a nurse bustled past with his stethoscope bouncing around his neck and a clipboard clutched to his chest. You glanced over at him, then opened your mouth again. “What about you?” You shrunk back the tiniest bit, your fingers sheepishly twitching against his. “I hope you weren’t too bored or anything waiting up for me.”

Clay laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “For you? Never.” You felt your heart stumble in your chest as he continued. “I just scrolled through Twitter for a while, then I made a tweet about the donation I’m making for my next video—you know, the one to spread chronic illness awareness.”

Leaning against his side slightly, you sighed, your head stuffed full with adoration for your boyfriend as you pressed your head into his warmth. “That’s incredible, Clay,” you murmured, squeezing his hand. “You’re incredible.”

His lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, and he squeezed your hand back. “I try my best.”

You felt your heart swell, and you resisted the urge to kiss him in front of the hospital staff right then and there. Just how lucky could you be to have someone as lovely and compassionate as Clay in your life?

Stepping into the front lobby, he gently nudged his shoulder into yours, stepping to the side to make way for another patient. The ringing of the secretary’s phone made you jolt beside him, but not once did his eyes leave your face. “I’m guessing we’re coming back the same time next week?”

You flashed a grin at him, winking sheepishly. “You know it.”

The chuckle he let out made your stomach flip, affection nipping incessantly at the back of your head. “Awesome,” he hummed, sticking his hand into his pocket. Fishing around, his mouth quirked up a moment later as he pulled out a ring of car keys, clasping his fingers around it. “Alright—let’s go.”

You blinked, your lips curling into a frown as the automatic doors parted in front of them. “Wait, I can drive us.”

He shot you a fond look, shaking his head. The sun’s warm rays cast a golden sheen to his dirty blond locks, his eyes practically glowing in the midday heat. “Nope, no can do.” He jutted his head toward the car, which sat a few yards away in the parking lot beside the hospital. “You drove us here, and now it’s my turn to drive us back.”

Something flashed in your gaze, and your tongue darted out to swipe at your lips as your fingers twitched at your side. “You say that,” you began, your hand shooting forward toward the keys in his, “but not if I get the keys fir—hey!”

A gasp flew from your lips as your hand met nothing but open air, Clay having leapt back with his arm stretched up high above his head. Stumbling back a few steps, shimmering mirth danced in his gaze as he waved the keys at you, just barely out of reach. “Too slow, baby.”

Scowling, you leapt forward yet again, your fingers desperately reaching for the keys as he simply stepped off to the side, backpedaling until a few feet stood between the two of them. The glare you shot him only seemed to egg him on as he began to twirl the silver key ring around his pointer finger playfully. He was teasing you now, you knew it, and you were not going to take any part in it.

“Clay,” you said slowly between gritted teeth.

“[Y/N],” he drawled back, a wide grin still plastered to his face.

Just then, you were bolting over to him, a small breeze biting at your face as you lunged for his hand. You could feel your lungs tighten as the warm, humid air came rushing into your chest, but you were far too focused on the glint of metal against his skin to care. Clay’s eyes went wide as his hand suddenly snapped shut around the car keys, his arm pinning itself to his back as his other hand reached out to steady you against him.

“Okay, okay,” he cried, his fingers gently pressing into the fabric of your shirt, “no running! Please.” His voice suddenly went soft, and your feet came to a grinding halt before him, your lungs heaving. “I don’t want you to stress your asthma.”

Feeling your heart batter against your rib cage, you sucked in a breath, rocking against him ever so slightly as you lifted your chin at him. “Then will you please let me drive?”

He blinked at you for a moment, a thoughtful look passing over his expression. “Hmm... should I?”

You gasped, bobbing your head eagerly, a hint of a smile gracing your lips. His tongue poked out at the corner of his mouth, and you felt a glimmer of hope spark in the pit of your stomach. Yes!

Then, he smiled, apologetic and teasing. “Still no.”

Your face fell in an instant, twisting into a pout as you sagged against his side with a whine. His grin only widened at the sight, patting your on the shoulder with a gentle nudge. “Sorry, [Y/N],” he hummed, turning on his heel to walk over to the driver’s side of the car, “but I’m not budging on this one.”

You groaned, begrudgingly dragging yourself over to the other side of the car and tugging the door open. “Ugh. You,” you said, flopping into the passenger seat with a frown and your arms crossed on top of your frontside, “are the worst.”

He let out a chuckle at your face, pushing the keys into the ignition and turning his hand with a knowing look. “Sure, sure,” he murmured, soft and low. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Despite yourself, you felt your heart flutter in your chest at the pet name, melting back into the car seat as your arms went limp over your chest. Sneaking a glance over at him, you felt warmth skitter across your face at the way his eye caught yours, loving and true. Huffing, you feigned annoyance and stuck your tongue out at him, but you couldn’t quite stop the smile from tugging at your lips, something pink and fuzzy bubbling up in the core of your chest as they pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

You were so driving next time.

You picked at the patch on your arm, your gaze focused intently as your nails carefully peeled back one of the corners. Gently grasping at the lifted flap, you tugged backward, the patch slowly peeling off until it was popping off your arm with a satisfying flick. Smiling triumphantly to yourself, you walked over to the garbage can and tossed the used patch in, relishing in the feeling of the cool air brushing over your now exposed skin. Leaning against the kitchen counter, you tugged your phone out of your pocket, swiping open your phone with a soft hum.

It had been a few days since your last respiratory therapy session, and you were feeling good. The new breathing exercises you had been suggested were working amazingly, and it almost made your feel like you didn’t need to keep your inhaler on hand every waking second.

Sucking in a deep breath, you held it in for a long moment, then exhaled, feeling the air rush out of your lungs in a single gust. It was right then that a small itch rose into the back of your throat, and you coughed just a little bit, swallowing sharply as you straightened. All of a sudden, a head popped into the kitchen doorway, golden brows knit together with worry.

“[Y/N]?”

You whirled at the sound of your name, your gaze immediately landing on Clay’s pursed lips on the opposite side of the room. “Mhm?”

He cocked his head at you, his eyes scanning you up and down for a split second before locking onto yours once more. “I heard coughing.” His eyes flashed. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, shooting him a reassuring grin. “Yeah—just choked on some spit or something. It was nothing serious.” When he only blinked at you, you firmly added, “I promise.”

Just like that, his shoulders relaxed once more, and a soft smile crept onto his face. “Alright. I just wanted to let you know that I’m gonna be editing for a couple of hours.” He jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the next room over if you need anything, alright?”

You grinned, sending him a playful salute. “Roger that.” Pushing back against the counter, you slipped your phone back into your pocket and strode across the kitchen over to him, stopping just a tile in front of him. “How much is it this time?”

One side of Clay’s mouth curled up into a thoughtful expression. “Well,” he began slowly, leaning against the doorframe, “I’ve got about five hours of footage and audio to cut down into about fifty minutes, so...”

He gestured vaguely with a pained expression, and you offered him a sympathetic look. “It’s a lot?” you prompted.

He let out a long sigh, weary yet sure as he bit back a wince. “It’s a lot.”

Shuffling a step closer, you reached your hand up to brush your fingers over his cheekbone, gentle and sweet. “You’ll do great,” you said quietly, your eyes curving into crescent moons alight with ardent and honest affection. “You always do.”

Clay leaned in to your warm touch, his eyelids fluttering for a moment as he let out another sigh—an enamoured one, this time. “I love you,” he whispered, sincerity seeping into every letter he breathed.

The fondness of his voice made your heart melt into a sugary sweet puddle in your chest, and you let your hand bury itself into his soft locks. “I love you, too,” you whispered back.

With a warm gaze that made your insides tingle, Clay was dipping his head, and you let your eyelids fall shut as you let your mouth part ever so slightly. A second later, his lips were pressed against yours, plush and loving as you felt yourself smiling into the kiss, his hot breath tickling the side of your cheek. Just a moment later, they broke apart, warm air rushing into your lungs as you flashed him a bright grin.

“Go ahead, now,” you murmured, nudging his shin with your foot. “You’ve got lots of footage to sift through.”

Standing up straight again, he rolled his eyes as he turned on his heel with a dramatic groan. “Why did you have to remind me?” he cried over his shoulder.

You could only laugh in return, waving at him with a jesting bow and grinning at the way he pretended to be offended. You watched as he slunk into the next room over down the hall, pushing the door shut behind him with his arm. With a hint of a smile lining your lips, you hummed to yourself before strolling out of the kitchen and into the living room. Flopping onto the couch with a huff, you settled back against the cushions with a comforted exhale and pulled out your phone once more. You relished in quiet moments like these, even if you would much rather be spending them with Clay. Maybe you would make him a snack or something, just to help him ease up on all his editing.

You had only been sitting for a few minutes when you felt a familiar itch gnaw at the base of your neck once more, and you ducked your head into your elbow to let out a harsh cough. Your chest felt tighter than it usually did, and you furrowed your brows. You had been breathing just fine less than an hour ago. What in the world could be possibly changing that?

As another cough welled up in your mouth, you turned your head, sweeping your gaze across the room. Just as you began sucking in yet another burning breath, a flash of cerulean blue caught your eye, and you froze, your jaw going completely slack.

The window was open.

Everyone had their own asthma triggers, whether it was a cat allergy or some nasty pollution. But for you, having so much as an open window could be more than enough to send your body spiralling into overdrive and straight into an asthma attack.

And by the looks of it, your body was doing just that.

Your lungs felt tight—too tight, almost as if a boa constrictor had snaked up your spine and wrapped around them, constricting them until they were nothing more than two, tiny, trembling slivers in your chest. You let out a choked gasp, then desperately tried to breathe in, only to feel your lungs screaming in protest within the cavity of your chest, fuzzy pain swimming throughout the entirety of your body. your windpipe felt like it had been squeezed into the size of a straw, and you knew it was only a matter of time before you began wheezing. With a hammering heart, you stumbled to your feet, your hand reaching for your pocket with a shuddering cough. Patting against your thigh, you suddenly seized up when you felt nothing pressing up against your palm. That was when it hit you.

You had left your inhaler upstairs in the bedroom, back when you were feeling better than ever just a couple of hours prior.

You half wanted to cry out of both amazement and agony—how ironic was it that you would have an asthma attack the one time you didn’t have your inhaler on you?

You could practically hear the blood rushing through your ears as you took a shaky step forward, holding yourself upright as much as possible as you tried to remain calm. Or, as calm as you could when you couldn’t breathe. It would take too long for you to go all the way upstairs and grab your inhaler—there was simply no way you would even be able to make it that far.

Luckily for you, you knew just where to find another one.

Striding as quickly and steadily as you could on your shaking legs, you pressed your way out of the living room and down the hall, breathing as deeply as possible despite just how narrow your airway felt. You coughed again, the inferno ripping through your lungs like a raging beast as you grasped at the wall for support. It was like someone had sat on your chest, pressing down like an iron anvil slamming into the earth from a cliff.

It hurt.

You could feel the back of your eyes sting more and more with each desperate gasp for air you took, and your entire body felt like it was about to collapse beneath your . You nearly sank with relief when you finally reached Clay’s door, your knees buckling like a newborn fawn’s. With a muffled choke, you wrapped your hand around the door handle and twisted it, pulling it back as hard as you could. The door slammed into the opposite wall with a reverberating thud, shaking the floor with a low creak.

In front of his desk, Clay jolted at the sudden sound, ripping off his headphones as he spun around in his chair to face you. “[Y/N]?” he said, confusion clouding his face. “What’s wro—”

You cut him off with another cough, the flames licking at your throat with a burning vengeance as you frantically gestured toward your neck. An instant later, you were sinking to the ground, wheezing for dear life. That was all it took for Clay to come barrelling out of his desk chair and across the room to your side, one hand already digging itself into his pocket.

“Oh, crap, okay,” he rambled in a panicked rush, pulling an inhaler out of his pocket. “[Y/N], please look at me. I’ve got a rescue inhaler here.”

Forcing your head up to meet his frenetic gaze, you could feel tears brim along your lashes, opening your mouth for him. Not even a split second later, he was gently pushing the inhaler past your lips, one hand carefully gripping the plastic while the other reached for your hand.

With a quivering voice, he slipped your hand into his. “Ready, set, breathe, baby.”

He pressed down on the top of the inhaler, and immediately, you were sucking in a harsh, aching breath. Almost instantaneously, you felt a cool mist of medication spray against the back of your mouth, your throat relaxing the tiniest bit as you exhaled. A few seconds later, he was pressing down again, and you were inhaling as much as you could. For a few minutes, they stayed like that, your hand squeezing his as tightly as possible as you took breath after agonizing breath, your lungs working beyond belief. You weren't keeping track of how much time had passed, focusing only on the simple act of breathing and the feeling of your lungs slowly expanding in your chest. Every so often, you let out a tiny whimper, and he would reassuringly squeeze your hand in his, his emerald eyes filled with an intensity you rarely got to see.

At long last, you tapped thrice at Clay’s hand wrapped around yours, and in a flash, he was pulling the inhaler from your lips and letting it rest in his lap, his eyes desperately scanning your face. Your chest felt like it had just been unraveled from a wound-up ball, and you leaned forward the tiniest bit, your palm pressing against the ground to stabilize yourself.

“Clay,” you whispered, your throat feeling raw and your voice coming out with a slight rasp.

His name was only about halfway out of your mouth when he was wrapping his arms around your shoulders, the warmth of his hands soaking into your skin. “[Y/N], are—are you okay? Does your chest hurt? Does it still hurt when you breathe?”

You took in a staggering breath. Then two, then three. After a few long seconds, you lifted your head, flashing him a brighter, calmer smile. “I—I’m okay. Y-Yeah, I’m—” You cleared your sore throat, not missing the way his eyes flashed with concern. “I’m alright.”

His palms were still tense next to your arm. “Are you absolutely sure?”

You reached a hand up to grab one of his, gently prying his fingers into yours with a soft promise. “One hundred percent.”

His eyes focused on yours for a moment longer, then he was sagging with relief, his shoulders finally slumping. “Good. Really good. That’s great, honestly.”

You laughed at his reaction, your heart only just slightly trembling between your aching lungs. “Thank god it’s over. Just, woah, um,” you rambled, your words coming out in a hazy rush. “That was—holy crap, that was so… so...”

He raised his hand, and you suddenly fell silent as he warmly patted your side. “Slow down a bit, baby,” he said gently, his brows sloping downward. “I don’t want your lungs acting up on us, again.”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut for a second before whispering, “That was so scary.”

Just like that, his face was flooded with compassion, and he brushed his thumb over your cheek with a soft croon. “It was. It’s been a while since you last had an attack.” You melted against him, soaking in his every word. “Do you know what triggered it, this time?”

You paused, furrowing your brows before cocking your head. “I, um, there was an open window. In the living room.”

Clay blinked at your . Then, his expression slowly shifted to one of realization, the horror creeping onto his face like a stalking beast. “Oh, god,” he breathed. “I—I opened it when we got home from grocery shopping today. I just thought... it might be nice to have some fresh air, and—” He ran a hand through his hair, anxiety flicking at his head. “I wasn’t thinking. [Y/N], I’m sorry. That was terrible of me, I—”

His voice cracked brokenly as he dropped his head, and you were immediately throwing your arms around him, climbing forward and into his lap with a soothing tone. “No, no, no, Clay, no. Don’t say that.” You pressed your hands to his face and lifted his chin until he was looking at you again with wide, ashamed eyes. “You’re so good to me,” you whispered, “so wonderful in every way. If you didn’t have an inhaler on you, we would have had to call 911, and—”

You shook your head, your lips curving up into a gentle smile as you leaned forward to press your forehead to his. “Clay, you’re the best. Really, I mean it. Don’t think so poorly of yourself.”

For a minute, all was silent. Clay’s lips were parted with what looked like a mixture of awe and admiration, and you watched with surprise as he suddenly tugged you closer to his chest, your chin resting upon his shoulder as he squeezed you tightly. You could feel his breath tickle your ear as he whispered the softest of words into the quietness of the room. “God, I’m just glad you’re safe.” He brushed his lips against the shell of your ear. “You’re too important for me to lose.”

You gulped, your heart somersaulting through your chest and barrelling right through your lungs. You could feel your eyes water the tiniest bit as he rubbed a small circle into the curve of your waist, and you smiled as he nestled your head into the side of his neck.

He always managed to take your breath away in the best way possible.

[headfulloffantasies]

WonderTrev Secret Santa

For @pennywaltzy Happy Holidays!

Sometimes- A WonderTrev fic. Rated PG

Sometimes, Diana dreamed that Steve didn’t die.

Sometimes         

   Sometimes, Diana dreamed that Steve didn’t die. Some nights, she saw the plane explode in a flash of orange against the black night sky. And when the smoke cleared, a white parachute drifted through the air. Diana ran across the landing strip, her boots pounding the asphalt. Steve’s knees buckled as he hit the pavement. Diana caught him, held him tight against her chest. It felt like crashing into the sun. His warm body, still alive, brough tears to her eyes. She vowed to never let go.

Steve’s arms wrapped around her. He said something into her ear. But like before, she couldn’t hear through the muffled ringing.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered. She ran a hand through his soft hair, pressing him even closer to her. His hands ran up and down her back, soothing the ache of loss.

They left the battlefield. They walked hand and hand away from a war finally won. They saved the world, and the promise of tomorrow was their reward.

Diana hated that dream. She woke with tears staining her pillow. Sometimes she put on her armor at night and went out looking for crime just so she wouldn’t have to face that dream. Eventually, she learned to live with the dream. She stopped putting on the armor.

Diana told her story to very few people. The legend of Wonder Woman became a myth, and then a fable. Just a story soldiers remembered hearing in the trenches. Sometimes though, Diana got lonely.

Bruce Wayne gifted her the photo of Steve, Samir, Charlie, and Chief. Diana sat down and sent him an email. “Thank you for bringing him back to me. Will you meet me for coffee? I’m ready to tell you my story.”

They met at Diana’s apartment. She set two mugs of earl grey tea on the coffee table. Bruce fidgeted on her couch, clearly unsure how to start this conversation. Diana sat next to him and began. “I was not born in the world of men…”

 Sometimes, when she had told people she’d lost her only love, people would say “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

Bruce said nothing. He sat in his brooding silence when she finished talking. Diana’s tea had made had gone cold. Bruce finally lifted his eyes. They were blue like Steve’s, but icy where Steve’s had always been warm. Bruce took Diana’s hand in his.

  “Steve sounds like a very special person. Thank you for sharing. People like us seem to carry far too much pain.”

 “People like us?” Diana raised an eyebrow.

  Bruce didn’t respond. He gathered his coat and left.

  Diana wished sometimes she’d never left Themescara. The only people in the world who might understand her were barred from her. She could never return. But sometimes, she imagined what she might say to her mother. Diana could feel the sun-warm grass beneath her bare feet. She imagined sitting in the glade where she’d learned to ride horses. Her mother would sit across from her. They’d share a drink of wine.

Diana would lift her face to her mother and say, “I found a man worthy of the Amazons. The man Steve Trevor, who defended us on the beach.”

The imagined Hippolyta raised an eyebrow. “I recall his name, Diana. It’s not every century a man finds his way to our island.”

  “Yes, mother,” Diana hid a smile. “If I told you I loved him, what would you say?”

  Hippolyta also smiled. “So long as you are happy, I am happy for you.”

Diana swallowed hard. “I lost him.”

“Not all things that are lost are finished,” Hippolyta said.

Diana snapped from her daydream. Her mother had never said that before in her mind. Diana’s heart raced. Where had that thought come from?

             Not all things that are lost are finished.

  What did it mean? Diana was sure the thought had not come from herself.

The next day Diana sat at her desk in her office. She typed up her proposal for the museum’s newest exhibition, attaching her notes on the rarity of the Greek artifacts included in the display. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her temples. She’d had the dream again last night and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after.

Diana’s email pinged. She looked up, expecting something from her supervisor. The message had no subject line. She checked the sender. No sender listed. Diana frowned. She really shouldn’t open anything like this. She deleted the message, hoping no other spam would make it into her inbox. Another ping immediately drew her attention. The subject line of the new email read “READ ME, DIANA”.

There was still no sender. Diana chewed her lip. She clicked the message. It had only one line.

“Not all things that are lost are finished.”

A chill ran down Diana’s spine.

Another message popped up. Diana clicked it. She lurched back in her chair.

It was a photo of Steve Trevor. He wore a grey sweatshirt and glowered at the camera. The sight of him in colour stole Diana’s breath. This couldn’t possibly be real. Someone had photoshopped the image, surely. Diana frantically searched the message for the sender. No sender, but the subject line read “FIND ME”.

Diana’s pulse raced. Steve’s face swam in front of her eyes. Diana forced herself to her feet. A thousand memories crashed over her like a wave. Steve’s smile, his blue eyes, his hands clasped around hers, the snow falling between them. Diana could hear the music in the chilly square.

Diana couldn’t stand still anymore. She paced back in forth in front of her desk. Tears ached in her throat, but she forced them down. This couldn’t be real. Diana needed proof. She leaned over the desk and tapped frantically at the computer. There was one person she knew who would help without asking questions. Bruce Wayne.

She forwarded the photo of Steve along with a quick plea. “Can you verify this photo is real and find the source?”

Diana went back to her pacing while she waited. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. If Steve was alive-. She forced her thoughts elsewhere. She had to find whoever had sent the picture. Diana sat at her desk again. She stared at Steve’s face glaring back. His thick eyebrows pulled harshly over his eyes. Diana traced a finger over the crease in his forehead. The only photo she had of him was too faded and grainy to make out much of his neutral expression. She’d never forgotten how deeply he conveyed his emotions; but she hadn’t seen it in so many decades.

At last, Bruce replied to her request. Diana slammed her hand on the mouse to open his response.

“The photo is real. Unable to track the sender. Do you need backup?”

A sob clogged in Diana’s throat. Steve. Steve alive. How? How could this happen?

The sharp ring of Diana’s cellphone startled her out of her thoughts. “Hello.”

“Do you have any clues as to who did this?” Bruce’s low growl grounded Diana in her seat.

“No,” she admitted. “All I have is the picture.”

“I’ve also been receiving disturbing messages,” Bruce said.

Diana sucked in a breath. “Do you have any leads?”

“One,” Bruce did not elaborate.

Diana resisted rolling her eyes. Bruce remained as difficult to talk to as ever. “I would be grateful for any assistance you may have,” she said.

Bruce paused. Diana waited; the tempests of Bruce’s moods not new to her. “The messages I’ve had were not, let’s say, traditional.”

“How do you mean?”

“Dreams,” Bruce said curtly. “I’ve been having dreams of someone I thought to be dead. She might not be.”

Diana stilled. “I’ve also had dreams.”

“I’ll meet you in an hour.”

Diana went home. Bruce rang her door bell exactly one hour from when he hung up the phone. Diana welcomed him into her apartment.

Bruce glanced around the airy penthouse suite. He stuck his hands in his crisp suit pockets. “You have good taste.”

“We both know you’re not here to compliment my décor,” Diana closed the door. “Please sit,” she gestured to the couch. Bruce perched on the edge of the cushion. Diana noted he’d placed himself where he could see all the windows and doors. She didn’t comment.

Diana sat across from Bruce. “Tell me about your dreams.”

Bruce frowned. “They’ve been chaotic. I only ever dream of the night my parents died. Now, I’m having vivid recollections of Justice League missions. I thought maybe someone was trying to gather intel on the League.”

Diana noted the dark circles under Bruce’s blue eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

Bruce shook his head. “It seemed irresponsible to give her an in.”

“Her?” Diana raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You know who’s doing this to us?”

“Maybe. I have a suspicion.”

“Who is she?” Diana asked.

Something flickered across Bruce’s face too quickly for Diana to recognise. “Her name is Ace. I knew her when she was a child. It seems she’s grown up. And grown even more powerful.”

“How do you mean?” Diana pressed.

Bruce straightened his spine. Diana was beginning to recognise his stiff posture as a form of armor he gathered around himself. “Ace is psychic. When I met her, she was sick. Her powers overflowed, wrapping people in vivid hallucinations. I thought she had died in my arms.”

“Did you kill her?” Diana didn’t want to say it.

“No,” Bruce said. His sharp gaze reprimanded Diana for even asking.

She folded her arms over her chest. “If this girl can warp people’s minds, how do we know any of what’s going on is real?”

“We don’t,” Bruce pinned her with another look. “But are you willing to risk it?”

“Yes,” Diana replied immediately. Anything for Steve. The bubble of hope that had grown in her chest expanded. She didn’t dare nurture it. If all this was only a trick, she didn’t know how she’d react. She couldn’t lose Steve a second time.

“What do you propose?”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s probably easiest to go to sleep and wait for Ace to contact us.”

A knot of anxiety squeezed in Diana’s stomach. “Yes, I suppose,” she conceded.

Diana set Bruce up in her spare bedroom. The bed hadn’t seen any guests in quite some time. Bruce protested that he could sleep on the couch, but Diana refused.

“Hospitality is a virtue among my people.”

Diana left Bruce to try to fall asleep in her fresh sheets. She went to her own room and closed the door.

She laid down on top of her covers and closed her eyes. In the dark of her own thoughts, Diana thought of Steve. She recalled the smoke of their little camp in the European wilderness. Steve’s coat dropped around her shoulders. Charlie sang a soldier’s song of longing to go home. Diana watched out of the corner of her eye as Steve curled up and fell asleep on the ground. His face softened in repose. Diana longed to lay next to him, to drape his arm over her shoulder and to burrow into his side. She missed him dearly. What would she give for a chance to get him back?

Diana rolled over. Her alarm clock told her she’d been laying there for an hour. She sighed. She obviously wasn’t going to fall asleep. Diana levered herself up and went to check on Bruce.

She tapped softly at the door. There was no answer. She pushed the door open. Bruce lay half curled around a pillow; his fingers gone lax in their grip on the sheets. He’d thrown his jacket over the chair in the corner. Diana crossed over to the chair and settled herself down to wait until Bruce woke. His body had relaxed in sleep, but his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. It did not look peaceful.

Bruce woke with a jerk. He made a snuffling sound like an adorable puppy. Diana hid her smile behind her hand. Bruce sat up. His hair stood up in spikes on one side of his head. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and finally noticed Diana.

“How long were you there?” He asked, his voice rough.

Diana shrugged. “A few minutes only. I could not sleep.”

Bruce nodded. He slid off the bed and straightened his collar. “I got a location.”

Diana’s head snapped up. “Really?” She rose from her seat.

Bruce nodded. He slicked his hair back, all business again. “Ace showed me the facility she’s being held at.”

“And Steve?” Diana pressed.

Bruce frowned. “I think so. The details are fading. We should move.”

“You have your suit?” Diana asked.

Bruce smirked. “Always.”

Diana ran to change.

Bruce was waiting at the door when she came out in her armor. His face hid behind the black cowl. He cut an imposing figure with his cape trailing the floor and the horns on his head stabbing towards the ceiling. He reached for the door knob. “The Batplane is on its way. We’ll have to go to the roof.”

“Not that way,” Diana strode to the balcony and threw open the glass doors. She braced a foot against the balcony rail and turned back to Bruce. She extended a hand. “Are you coming?”

Bruce took her hand. She tugged him into her side and wrapped an arm around his waist. Diana lifted her head, calculating the distance to the roof. She bent her knees and jumped. They rocketed into the air. They launched up over the roof. For one second, they were suspended over the city, the sunset spreading golden below. Then they dropped. Diana adjusted her grip on Bruce to compensate his weight. She took the force of their landing with a jolt through her bones.

Bruce scrambled out of her grip. “A little warning would have been nice,” he grumbled.

The roar of an engine alerted them of the Batplane before it appeared at the edge of the roof. Bruce strode over to the tiny aircraft. Diana approached the cramped cockpit dubiously.

“I can fly behind you,” she offered, noting the single seat.

“No,” Bruce answered. “We have to make a plan as we fly. Ace said there wasn’t much time left.”

“Fine,” Diana climbed into the craft. She squeezed her knees behind the pilot’s chair. Bruce leaped in and flicked a dozen blinking switches on the controls in front of him. The canopy descended and sealed with a hiss. Diana wriggled her shoulders, trying to relieve the pressure of something digging into her spine.

“Tell me what Ace said,” Diana demanded as the plane roared to life and surged towards the horizon.

Bruce kept his eyes on his instruments. “They’re in a facility underground. Someone’s been running tests on them. Experimenting.”

  Diana’s stomach dropped. Images of a faceless scientist hurting Steve ran through her mind. She clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking.

Diana finally asked the question that had burned in her chest for hours. “Did you ask Ace about Steve?”

  Bruce nodded. “She said he’s been there the longest. But not awake? She thinks he was in some kind of suspension until recently.”

Diana held back a growl. “What’s the plan?”

  Bruce glanced back at her. “There are other prisoners there as well. The priority should be getting them out.”

“Agreed.”

Bruce passed a radio back to Diana. “We’ll have to split up. Do you think you can make a loud distraction?”

Diana managed a savage smile. “I can do that.”

The bunker in the snowy woods crouched against the side of the mountain like a soldier defending its stance. Diana marched straight up to the solid iron doors. Her shield hung loose in her grasp. Her sword trailing the ground left a slice through the newly fallen snow. She approached with her shoulders back and head high. Diana didn’t bother yelling for attention. She drew back her leg and slammed her heel against the door. The metal buckled. Diana kicked again. The hinges groaned. One more attack and the doors crumpled in on themselves.

The tunnel leading down into the earth yawned black and abandoned. But Diana could hear the sound of running feet and shouting. Too late, an alarm shrieked overhead.

  Diana strode down the tunnel. Just as the smooth floor evened out, a dozen armed guards rounded the corner. Diana leaped. She slammed into the oncoming assailants. They didn’t stand a chance. Diana cut through them with her lasso and shield. Once they were all down, she looked around. The grey concrete hallway she found herself in branched to the left and right. To the left she heard more shouting and stomping feet. To the right, then. Away from the security’s hub, where Bruce was slowly making his own covert progress.

Diana took her time, moving at a sedate pace. Any time a new batch of guards caught up, she disarmed and dispatched them quickly. She was aware of the blinking cameras in the corners following her every move. She did not care. Calculated fury filled Diana as she marched through the base.

Losing Steve before had given the same battle clarity. But this was different. The incident with Ares had been fire. This was cold as ice. Steve was here. Nothing else mattered.

Diana descended down a flight of stairs to a white door marked “Labs”. Diana shoved the door open.

  The smell of disinfectant hit her nose. She found a room of sterile white chambers. Diana drew nearer, a humming sense of urgency finally breaking through her cold exterior. Each chamber resembled a cell with a white bunk and a glass wall separating it from the rest of the lab. Figures moved in each chamber.

Diana drew level with the first cell. A woman pressed against the glass. She wore the same grey sweatshirt and pants as Steve in the photo. Her stringy hair fell across her eyes. Those same eyes widened at Diana’s approach.

  “Wonder Woman?” The woman gasped. “Are you here to save us?”

“Yes,” Diana nodded. She drew back her shield and slammed it into the glass. The woman ducked with a yelp. The shield ricocheted off the glass, the vibration jarring Diana’s arm all the way to the shoulder. The glass didn’t so much as crack.

Diana stared in disbelief.

“They knew you’d come,” the woman whispered.

“Who are you?” Diana demanded.

“Tara.” The woman sniffed miserably. “I’ve been here for ages. Doctor Leslie talks about you all the time. She hates you. She designed the cages to be impenetrable.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Diana studied the locking mechanism on the cell door. It looked like a simple key card lock. Diana brought her sword down on the lock. It

Tara stepped out on shaking legs. “Thank you.”

“I’m searching for someone,” Diana said. “His name is Steve Trevor.”

Tara nodded. “He’s here. Doctor Leslie came and took him away when the alarms started.”

Diana didn’t know whether to be afraid or relieved.

She released the rest of the prisoners. They told her the same thing: they knew of Steve, but hadn’t spoken to him. They’d all been experimented on, but the head scientist, Doctor Leslie, seemed to hate Steve more than the others.

Diana pointed Tara and the others towards the exit. “Head that way. Keep out of sight.”

The prisoners scurried away. Diana hefted her sword and kept going. Somewhere here, Steve was wandering around. She’d find him.

“Diana,” the radio Bruce had given her crackled to life. “I’m in the main security office. I have control of the building.”

Diana pulled the radio from her belt. “Where is Doctor Leslie?”

“Keep heading forwards. She’s holed up in lab 237. I’ll meet you there.”

Diana’s heart pounded in time with her boots as she ran down the hallway. The numbers on the lab doors streaked by. She skidded to a halt outside lab 237.

The door hung open. Diana unsheathed her sword. The lights were off in the room. Computers whined at the numerous desks. Strings of numbers ran over the screens, casting flickering patterns of light on the walls. Diana edged forward. At the head of the room, a woman bent over a desk, pressing keys on the computer.

“Stay there,” Diana ordered.

The woman’s head jerked up. Her hair escaped her bun in wild curls and her glasses sat askew on her face.

“Doctor Leslie?” Diana asked. She took another step closer.

The doctor adjusted her glasses. “My, you are a specimen, aren’t you?”

Diana ignored the jibe. “Where is Steve Trevor?”

“Dead.”

The world fell like a bolder on Diana’s shoulders. The air punched from her lungs. She flew across the room and grabbed a handful of Doctor Leslie’s lab coat. “You’re lying,” Diana growled.

Doctor Leslie seemed unaffected by the fact that her feet no longer touched the ground. Her face twisted with rage.

“Do you remember Doctor Poison?” Doctor Leslie hissed. “She taught me everything I know. And she had a special hatred for you. Together we found your precious Steve Trevor after the war. She put him on ice. She refused to bring him out to play. But after her death, how could I not avenge my dear teacher?” She chuckled. “He was such a lovely specimen. I’ll cherish his last moments forever.”

  A stripe of panic ran down Diana’s spine. “No.”

  “Yes,” Doctor Leslie cackled. “Dead! I killed Steve Trevor! How does it feel?”

Diana’s grip on the woman’s collar tightened. Doctor Leslie gasped for breath. Cold chilled Diana to the bone. She’d let the men responsible for Steve’s death live once before. Not this time. She’d raze the base to the ground.

“Diana?”

Diana knew that voice. Her fingers went lax. Doctor Leslie collapsed onto the floor. Diana hardly noticed. She turned.

“Steve?”

He stood in the doorway. His chest rose and fell with harsh breaths. Diana stood still as the statue of Zeus as Steve came closer. He held his hands out to the sides as if approaching a startled animal. His blue eyes were deeper than she remembered. Diana took the last step separating them.  

She reached out for his face with a shaking hand. She pulled her fingers away just an inch from his skin. “I don’t want this to be a dream,” she said.

“Diana, I’m here,” Steve assured her. His pleading eyes begged her to believe him. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Diana crushed him to her chest. He still smelled the same. Apples and musk underneath the disinfectant of this place. Diana curled her fingers in the short hairs at the back of his neck. His cheek pressed to hers.

“I’m here,” Steve murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a scrambling noise as Doctor Leslie hauled herself from the floor and made her break for the door. Diana’s hand went to her lasso. Before she could snap the magic rope around the doctor’s ankle, Doctor Leslie ran straight into a shadow standing in the doorway.

Batman glared down at the doctor. She cowered.

Diana turned back to Steve, ignoring Bruce snapping cuffs on the doctor’s hands.

Diana wrapped Steve in her arms again. “I was so scared I lost you again,” she admitted.

“Give me that magic lasso,” Steve demanded. Diana unraveled it into his hands.

Steve wrapped the cord around his wrist like he had those ages ago in London. The magic glowed gold on his skin. “I am never leaving your side again.”

Diana didn’t know how long she and Steve stayed there wrapped in each other’s arms. At last, Bruce cleared his throat. Diana pulled back from Steve enough to crane her head at Bruce.

“Did you find Ace?” Diana asked.

“Yes.” A young woman with short black hair peeked out from behind Bruce’s shoulder. Her grey eyes danced with mirth.

“I knew you’d hear me,” Ace said. “Steve won’t shut up about you. I knew if you loved him half as much as he loves you, you’d come for him.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed. Diana laughed at his blush. She dropped her hand to grasp Steve’s fingers. “Let’s go home.”

[queensparklekitten]

You wake up in a world. You don’t remember anything, but you know who you are. You are the player. You know this world. You know to punch a tree. It’s the most logical and important thing to do. That tree. It’ll give you apples. You don’t question why you know this. You just know it. 

Place three rocks in a row at the top and two sticks down the middle column on the crafting table. There. That’s how you make a pickaxe. Now you can mine iron. You need the iron to proceed. You don’t question why you know this. You just know it. 

Darkness is dangerous. Monsters appear in the darkness. You’ve never seen one, but you know what they look like. You need to take wool from sheep, 3 should be enough, put it in a row on top of a row of wood. And then dye it red. They used to only be red, now they can be any colour, but to dye it red is a sacred ritual, a mark of a veteran. You don’t question why you know this. You just know it. 

As you create and adventure, you know everything of what you run across. You’ve never seen a temple like this before, but you know there’s treasure inside, and you also know that the blue square is a trap, that you shouldn’t break it. 

Place the furnace and the crafting table next to each other to officially turn this place from your house to your home. Wear the carved pumpkin on your head to protect yourself from the endermen. Don’t sleep in the nether, the bed will explode. Water will stop falling from hurting you. They all come naturally to you. You don’t think twice, no matter how strange it seems. But it’s not strange, is it? It’s how the world works, it’s how it was always meant to work. 

The nether has had its forests and its volcanoes and its porcine inhabitants long before you came along. But you remember when it didn’t. There was no plant life, no blackstone, none of the ancient debris you use TNT to uncover underground at level 15 and fuse with gold to create the strongest material you’ve ever seen. It’s your first time in the nether, and it was like this upon your arrival, the decayed bastions making it clear it’s been like this a long time. It should make no sense that you have memories of it being a barren wasteland, yet it does, and you give it no thought. 

There is a dragon. The Ender Dragon. It lives in the End, where the endermen come from. You need to kill it, to free the end. You’ve never seen any evidence of its existence, anywhere in this world. But you know it’s there, and that killing it is your ultimate goal. It’s controlling the endermen. Killing it won’t change anything about how the endermen behave, but they’ll be free. The endermen are your enemies, but they are not evil. You have to kill endermen to free the rest of them. 

You combine the pearls with powder from blaze rods, and make something new. Eyes Of Ender, that’s what they’re called. Follow them. They will lead you to the portal room. 

Your final arrow hits the dragon, and rays of light begin to emanate from it as it disappears in a spectacle of purple and white light. You hear the sound of the dragon’s death, and the sound of a cascade of experience points falling around you, and as you collect the egg, you realize you’ve won this world. 

The bedrock sparkles with starlike pinpricks of light in the void, and you desperately want to jump in, but you know not to do it yet. You need something. An elytra. You climb up to the new small portal and throw in the pearl. It takes lots of searching and a long trail left, but at long last, you find the elytra, guarded by a shulker. You take it, loot the chests, and leave. No need to stay here any longer. You follow the trail back and jump into the bedrock portal. 

You can’t see a thing, but you can hear two things. One of them is music, just like the music you hear so often, that always brings a tear to your eyes. The other is two voices. You can hear them perfectly despite the music. It feels almost more like you can see them than hear them. 

“I see the player that you mean.” 

The player… yes, that’s you. You’re the player. 

“It thinks we are part of the game.” 

Game. That word never came to your mind, but it makes sense to you. Game. Maybe that’s why you’re called the player. 

“And less terrifying than staring at the reality behind the screen.” 

Screen. Screen… Yes, you can see a screen. And a keyboard, a hand on the keys that control where you walk, a thumb on the space bar that makes you jump, another hand on the mouse that makes you look around, interact, place and break things. 

You are a player because you are in a game. That is your entire world, simply a game for someone who lives beyond your world. 

“But what true structure did this player create, in the reality behind the screen?” 

That’s right. The reality behind the screen. Being a game does not make you and your world any less real. These beings that speak, they are the true creators of your world. A world they created just for you. Your world, and the countless others you’ve inhabited, some years ago when the nether was barren and all beds were red and now long gone, some visited just a few days ago, all real, all the lives you’ve lived, sometimes as a godlike being that uses its powers to make buildings, sometimes as an adventurer much like your current incarnation. 

You remember all those worlds, and you remember watching videos of worlds inhabited by other players like you, and you remember reading books about hypothetical worlds, and you remember listening to songs about adventures set in worlds like all of yours. 

“Player of games.” 

“Good.” 

“Take a breath, now. Take another. Feel air in your lungs. Yes, move your fingers. Have a body again, under gravity, in air. Respawn in the long dream. There you are. Your body touching the universe again at every point, as though you were separate things. As though we were separate things.” 

And you do. And when you feel the air in your world, you truly see yourself. You look so different than you do in the game, but you’ve always looked like this, in fact, you have since before you woke up in this world. No, not this world. You’re not in that world right now. You’re in the world of the being that plays the game as you, because you are the being that plays the game as you. You are not controlled by an entity living beyond your world- you are that entity. When you hide in a wall and stand still for stretches of time and know it’s in order to do something, what you’re doing is moving away from the keyboard for a few minutes. Your entire world is a game for yourself, but so much more than that. 

You see the screen, with the words on it, and the device that displays it, your window into your other world. You continue to read the words, seeing them from inside your home, on a planet so much smaller than that of your other world, but in a universe so much larger. 

The shapes you see around yourself are alien, they don’t belong in your world, they look nothing like anything you’ve ever seen. But you barely even notice- after all, you’ve been surrounded by such shapes your whole life. Circles and ovals and curves are not native to your world, but they are as commonplace in the world as squares if not more so. 

“And the universe said you are not alone

And the universe said you are not separate from every other thing

And the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code

And the universe said I love you because you are love.” 

“And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love.

You are the player. 

Wake up.” 

As you look around yourself, standing up to fetch food while the list of names scrolls on the screen, passing by the calendar and thinking of everything soon to come- the season of freedom and warm weather, the arrival of the items you purchased online recently, and even more things to explore in the dream, lush caves full of plants and soaring mountains with new animals and terrifying monsters with no eyes but great ears, and as you taste the food and listen to the music, you know you’ve done exactly that. 

When your new dream begins, you know how to fly the elytra. Make fireworks, which can be made using paper and gunpowder. 

You don’t question why you know this. There’s no need. You know why. 

[lu-undy]

Chapter 64 - SBT

Here it is!

"Meow?"

"Mmh." Mundy grumbled under his blanket. 

"Meow…?" 

Perle tried to dig him up with her fluffy paws and Mundy heard her claws scratch the blanket repeatedly. 

"Leave me alone. I don't wanna do anything today."

"Meow…" 

Perle laid on top of Mundy, on top of the blanket, crushing him with all her cloudiness. He sighed. 

"Pearl?"

She purred and Mundy heard it from under the duvet. 

"Pearl… I can't do this." 

"Meow."

"I can't go on. It hurts too much and I don't know where I'm going. Everyday I wake up and I can't bear it. Sometimes… Sometimes I even come to think that it would have been better if I didn't know him." 

"Meow?" 

"Because then, I wouldn't have absurd expectations with people, and I could maybe find someone. Or I'd have stayed alone but it wouldn't hurt as much." 

Perle brushed her head on Mundy's, on top of the blanket. Mundy uncovered his head and she bathed him, licking him repeatedly. 

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with my life. I know he wants me to take care of you. I am and I always will. You're our baby. I'm just… It's sad he didn't see you grow up. You're a cat alright, not a baby anymore."

"Meow." Perle now licked his face. Mundy closed his eyes and let her do. 

"I go to bed everyday thinking that the next day I would forget about him. And everyday I wake up and he's the first and only thing I can think about."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem… 

"And it's not like I'm doing nothing either. My days are pretty full with everything I do with Maurice. Especially now that it's full blown winter, lots of poor folks need help."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem…

"And I know I have it infinitely better than them. But I can't help it. I feel lower than anything else on Earth. I know I should be more grateful that I have a roof, some heating, food, and you, baby… But I can't help it."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem…

"And it doesn't get better at night. I fall asleep and I see him, I talk to him, I… I see us doing all the things we didn't have time to do. I saw us dining in a restaurant, getting drunk silly in a pub, hunting together, him teaching me French… I see it all. I see all these stories that I'd love to tell about us… But they only happen in my head."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem…

"In my dreams, I feel him, I feel his eyes on mine, his hand in mine. I feel his warmth when I hug him, I smell his perfume and all… I even… I even kissed him."

Mlem, mle-meow?

"His lips are thin, warm and slick. It's almost like he spells words on my lips with his, or maybe not words but… feelings? Sometimes he kisses me and it says 'you're safe with me', sometimes it says 'I let myself be vulnerable with you, because I trust you', or even just 'I missed you'... He gives the best bloody kisses."

Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem…

"I don't know how he does it. Anytime he kisses me, I can just say 'Bloody hell, I love you so much I don't even understand it myself.' But then, when it's in a dream, I say 'I miss you', or at least I try to make my lips say it. I don't know, maybe that's just a pile of nonsense… It makes sense to me."

"Meow." 

"What would you do if you saw Papa again?" 

Perle brushed her head on Mundy repeatedly. She gently stroked his face in the softest manner. 

"Hmm… Yeah, same for me. I'd tell him exactly that."

He grabbed the pack of cigarettes next to his bed and lit one.

"Meow…"

Perle stood up and walked to the edge of the bed. She hopped down to the thin kitchen top opposite the bed and then to the floor, before going to the door and scratching repeatedly. 

"Yeah, just a second, baby. What is it you running away all the time now? And before you go, where were you yesterday? It's not the first time it happens. I kept on calling and you didn't come. Is something wrong with you?" 

Perle only answered by scratching the door more impatiently.

"Fine, you're a grown up now and I guess you don't need your Dad… Maybe I'm just old and grumpy."

Mundy got out of bed and opened the door before returning to his morning routine, a cigarette between his lips.

The morning got him quite busy. More and more poor souls were suffering from the season's usual illnesses and the queue to the Doc' was getting longer and longer. A few of those people were on soup duty but obviously were told to not approach any food so Mundy had to step up. 

"Gosh…" Mundy's teeth were chattering under the cold. The line of poor people seemed to never end at the soup stand as he served them one after the other. It lasted over two hours but in the end he was done. 

"Meow…" 

Perle came trotting to him and dropped something on the floor. 

"What's that, baby?" 

He crouched down and realised it was a mouse. 

"Oooh, good catch, Pearl." He scratched her head with his gloves and she purred. "But I'm hungry and freezing, come along, we need to get some lunch." 

Mundy walked quickly in the streets and entered the first shop on his way. He exited with some food and rushed back to the van.

"Right." 

He heated up his food on his camping stove and ate it, sharing bits with Perle on top of her cat food. She didn't eat much of it.

"This winter's quite harsh, kitty cat. You cold?" 

Perle leapt on his lap, on the couch and rolled into a ball of fur. 

"Here, look what I found the other day… I cut it and arranged it a bit. It should fit you now." 

Mundy grabbed a piece of cloth from the pile on the couch next to him. 

"Let me help you wear it, but you gotta stand up, there we go…" It was a thick scarf that Mundy had cut and re-arranged to cover most of her back and belly. He tied a knot neatly on her belly and scratched her head. "What d'you say?" 

Perle walked around, spinning slowly. 

"It's wool, it'll keep you warm. And for the colour, you can't see it but it's… It's pink."

"Meow?"

"Like the collar he'd chosen for you." 

Perle sat up and looked at Mundy tenderly. 

"Meow." 

"I know, it's silly. I didn't do it on purpose. I just… There were all these scarves and the choice was so big that I had to find something. I wasn't gonna take black or nonsense like that. You're a beautiful lady cat. So, uh… I thought maybe…" 

Perle went to the door and scratched it repeatedly. 

"Wanna go out? There… Door's open. Be careful out there, baby." 

"Meow!"

"What are you-?" 

She went to her plate of food and took a mouthful of it without eating it before leaping out of the van. 

"Pearl!"

She ran fast and away. Mundy frowned. Something was wrong with her. He ran off after her. 

"Pearl! Come back!" 

It had all started when she stole food from his plate. He didn't think much of it but it had turned to the point where she did eat his food and hers before he could turn and sit down to have his plate. She had put on weight and after a couple of months, she had lost it. But her behaviour was still odd. Leaving before going to bed only to return hours later. Mundy thought he had lost her a few times and stayed up to look for her in town. Hunting wild beasts was easy but looking for a cat in a city was impossible! 

But Mundy decided it was enough. He would now see with his own eyes where she runs off to and why. There must have been a reason. 

"Pearl, wait for me!" 

She didn't listen and darted through the streets as fast as she could. Mundy followed the fast white cloud until they arrived in a dead end. He was out of breath and his heavier smoking wasn't helping his lungs at all. He coughed and held his chest. 

"Pearl… What're you doing?" A coughing fit seized him and he had to take a minute to calm his breath and his heart down. 

"Meow." She hopped in a crate and hid there in the corner. 

"What are you doin' in that box…?"

Mundy approached it and crouched down. He gave a knock. 

"Baby, it's me. Why are you hiding? Come out." He said softly.

"Meow!" 

"I'm gonna open the crate, ok?"

"Meow!" She answered defensively. 

"No, kitty cat, I'm tired of you bein' weird. If somethin's botherin' you, then by God I'll find it, Lu' told me to take care of you and I will!"

Perle jumped out of the crate and sat on the lid. 

"Meow." 

"What?" 

"Meow." 

"I promise I won't be mad at you, whatever it is. C'mon, baby, you know it's only me. Dad only wants to help you…" 

Perle bent her face closer to him and as he crouched down, he got his face closer and rubbed it against her. 

"Why do you act like this…? I love you and I only want to protect you…"

"Meow…" 

"Is this where you always come when I look for you?"

"Meow…" She rubbed her face against his. 

"Are you hiding from me? Did I do or say something wrong?"

Perle stopped cuddling with her Dad and scratched the crate beneath her before slipping in. 

"Meow."

"You scared?" Mundy looked around. "There's only you and me here, baby."

"Meow." 

"Can I open it?"

A paw slipped out of the crate. Perle was trying to open it. 

"Alright, I'll open it now…" 

Mundy opened the panes one by one slowly. 

"Whatever's out there and bothering you, I'll find it and I'll keep you safe, ok, baby? I'm here for you, I'm here for - Jesus Christ!" 

Mundy's jaw dropped. 

"You've got babies?!" 

Perle was laying at the bottom of the crate and a litter of kittens was squeaking and slithering in their mother's fluff. 

"Crikey, that's fantastic! Why didn't you tell me?!" 

"Meow…" 

"My God, I wasn't there for any of this at all! I'm so sorry, baby, you must have gone through a lot on your own… And I kept on bothering you with my problems while you were carrying actual babies?! Hold on…"

Mundy frowned.

"Does that make me… a grandpa?" He raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh Christ… I'm a grandpa now…" 

"Meow…" 

"Right, yeah, let's bring them back home. Stay in the crate with them, I'll carry you all." 

Mundy took the crate between his arms and lifted it off the ground before heading back to the van. 

"That's why you put on so much weight and you kept eatin'... You needed it. I can't believe I didn't think of it…"

He walked all the way back to the van, apologising profusely for his total lack of awareness and attention to her. He actually felt bad about himself. How on Earth had he not noticed? She was not getting fat, she was pregnant! She wasn't eating his food because she felt like she could, she needed the extra nutrients. She was actually feeding herself and a few hungry tiny balls of fuzzy fur. 

"Right, first, we gotta wash everybody and count them."

Once Mundy entered the van, he put the box on the kitchen top. 

Perle took one of her babies between her teeth and hopped off of the box.

"What do we have here, eh?" Perle delicately put her baby in Mundy's hands. "Ooh, it's a boy, hello, you…"

The tiny creature squeaked. 

"Oh my God, baby, you're so small…! Alright, here we start the water, let me turn on the heater towards the pipe to heat it up faster… Nice… I wash them and we need to find names too, eh?" 

"Meow." Perle agreed as she took all her babies out of the crate one by one. 

"How old are they…? A few days I'd say… Hm, let's see, you mister, you're black and you got white paws. It's like you're wearing gloves. Glovy! Is that a good name?" He rinsed the dirt off of the kitten gently. 

"Meow." 

"Alright, let me find a towel… There. You stay there, little fellow. Next!"

Perle passed him another baby. 

"Ooh, that's a lady, hello, baby lady. You're black with a white patch on your face… Looks like a diamond so you're gonna be Diamond, is that ok?"

"Meow." 

"Great." Mundy put her in the towel and wrapped it up around the two squeaking kittens. "We got Glovy and Diamond, next!"

Perle passed another kitten. 

"That's also a baby lady, hello…" He gently washed her. "She's black with a… Is that a star? Yeah, let's say Star for you, is that alright, baby?" 

"Meow?" 

"Yeah, I'm talking to you, Pearl."

"Meow!"

"Oh you can have all the babies you like, I told ya, you'll be my baby forever." He bent down and kissed her head. She purred and waved her tail languidly. "Here, in the towel you go. Next!"

Perle handed him the next baby cat. 

"Ooh, that's the last one. Hello…? Mister! Ah, a little boy we have here, oh, he's black with a few streaks of white on top of his head… Hm… What are we supposed to call you then?" Mundy rinsed him carefully and placed him in the towel. He then gently wiped the kittens one by one, as delicately as he could. 

"Pearl, keep an eye on them for a second, I'm sure I kept your bed somewhere…"

"Meow?" 

"Yeah, the one Papa had bought you. It's huge, chances are you and the babies can fit there." 

Mundy opened a few cupboards before he found it. 

"Ha! There!" 

He put it on the floor and like a reflex, he sprayed a bit of Lucien's and his perfume on it. He shook it for the smell to diffuse and put it on the floor before adding one of Lucien's jackets.

"There… Now you have somewhere proper to go with the babies, not a random crate!" Mundy threw it out of the van. "Now, we take the babies. Yeah, yeah, you squeak like heaps of miniature doors, shush!" 

Mundy crouched down and gently put them in the basket where Perle lay on her side. The babies easily found their mother's milk and started drinking it. 

"Aw, that's sweet… But we still don't have a name for this last one. What d'you reckon?" 

"Meow." 

"I can't just call him 'meow', baby…"

Perle bathed him on his head, she licked and licked as the baby cat was staggering to his mother, his eyes hardly open. 

"What d'you look like, eh…? I mean you just have a… a front tuft of white I guess… Maybe a few white ones left and right under yer ears… I mean… What has white on the top and on the sides eh?"

"Meow." 

"What?" 

"Meow." 

"Baby, I usually get you but you'll have to make it clearer…"

Perle brushed her head down on Lucien's jacket while purring. 

"Meow…" 

"Oh Gosh… You're right…"

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. There was only really one man that he knew with a white front tuft and greying temples. 

"He'll be Lu' Junior then."

"Meow?" 

"Yeah, I'm not kiddin'. What d'you say?" 

Perle slowly closed her eyes to Mundy, who reciprocated the cat kiss. He then bent down to kiss the top of her head.

"Right, I'll change your water and I'll give you extra food." He got busy quickly. "I put the water in a larger plate but less deep. We don't want to have the babies end up in trouble if they go there. Is that alright?" 

"Meow."

"What?" 

"Meoow." She answered and lowered her head. 

"It's alright, I forgive you, baby. But please, next time, don't hold secrets like this, ok? Secrets are for your Papa's work. But here at home, no secrets, ok?" He brushed her head and she closed her eyes. 

"Good girl… And I should be the one apologising. I should have paid more attention to you. I neglected you and that's not good. I was too sad to open my eyes and see the obvious, I'm sorry, baby."

"Meow." 

"Thanks. Now, you guys sleep and I'll climb up to sleep too, ok?" 

"Meow!"

"What?" 

"Meeeow?" She pleaded him with her eyes. 

"Right, ok, hold on…" Mundy took the cat bed with all the cats inside and lifted it until he gently dropped it on the bed. He then changed for some pyjamas, switched off the lights in the van and climbed up. "C'mere, you guys… Your mum needs me to sleep as much as I need her. Gosh that sounded weird… I meant… Oh God you're babies, you don't even realise! What am I sayin…?"

Mundy kept a hand on Perle and thanked the Lord that his bed had planks all around it such that the babies couldn't possibly fall from it.

"G'night, babies."

"Meow." 

Mundy kept a hand on Perle as usual, and like a reflex, his fingers simply sank in the fur and brushed. It was therapeutic. But he realised something. 

"Pearl?" He whispered and saw her silhouette turn her head to him. "I love you, baby girl, ok?" 

"Meow." 

He smiled and fell asleep holding Lucien's jacket with one hand and stroking Perle's fur in the other. 

-- A few weeks later -- 

Mundy discovered that raising four curious balls of fur wasn't at all easy. He constantly had to keep an eye on them as they were naturally attracted to anything, regardless of the potential danger of it. The kittens were at that age where they would explore anywhere they could and they would touch anything, scratch it, bite it or even, fight over it. 

It kept Mundy busy and quite happy as he felt that indeed Perle had given him more to do. But the mum cat was helping to raise the kitties too of course. She would always watch after them and show them a good example. 

"Oi, Glovy, don't push your brother away from the food, there's enough for everyone."

They were adorable and almost every afternoon Mundy would open his door to the kids after school. The poor orphans loved to see the kittens. Mundy let them pet them and feed them treats occasionally. It made the kids so happy that Mundy could hardly refuse. 

"Mundy?"

Mundy raised his head and Maurice was standing there amongst the kids. 

"Oh, hey Maurice. You alright?"

"Oui, thanks. Kids, why don't you go and play football, eh? I think we have a new ball for you, go and ask Johnny." 

The kids said goodbye to the cat family and rushed out to play. 

"May I?" 

"Sure." 

Maurice stepped inside of the van and shut the door after him. 

"Pearl, you keep an eye on the babies." 

"Meow." 

Both Mundy and Maurice sat on the couch. 

"Want some coffee?" 

“Non, thank you, I have just had one with the doctor."

"Alright. What brings you here?"

"Them." Maurice pointed at the kittens. 

"Oh, why?"

"Do you intend to keep them all?" 

"I don't know but they're too young to leave their mum now, so I can't give them away. Why? You want one?" 

"Non, non, I was just thinking that the van was a bit narrow to keep five grown cats."

"Yeah, that's true… I never really stopped to think about it. But eh, we've got time to see it coming."

"Fair enough."

Silence fell, which was only interrupted by the occasional mewls. 

"How are they?" Maurice asked. 

"Good, they're growing up nice and healthy. They're full of energy too, I forgot that even Pearl was like that when she was a kitten. Now she's much more calm." 

"I see. And how are you, Mundy?" 

"I live for them. I wake up with them, eat with them, and spend my free time trying to prevent them from wrecking anything while raisin' them." 

"You don't sound completely happy about it….?" Maurice could feel it.

"No, I'm alright, I'm as happy as I can be, eh." 

"Mundy, not to me. I know you." 

Mundy sighed. 

"I'm not lying. I am as happy as I can be."

"I have seen you happier."

"That was a long time ago."

"But that means you can be more happy and you are not."

"Maurice…"

"You need to take a break."

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"A break? A break from what? And what d'you want me to do?"

"What do you do Mundy, when you're tired of everything and everyone?" 

"I drive to the desert but I'm not gonna do that, it's freezin' out there and I need to stay in the city to get food for the kitties. I can't go away for too long. And what about you? I'm supposed to work here with you." 

Maurice smiled through his unkempt beard. 

"You need a break. Gather everything you need for you and them and take a couple of weeks off. We can do with one less person."

"Maurice-"

"I don't like to pull ranks but this is an instruction from your boss." Maurice stood up. "If I even see just your shadow roaming around, I will have a serious chat with you, Mundy." He smiled as he went to the door. "And people don't like it when I get serious."

"You're always serious, mate…" Mundy smiled back. "Right, I'll take a few weeks. When d'you expect me back?" 

"When you can be as happy as before." 

"Mate, it would take me more than just a few weeks." 

"Did I stutter?" 

Maurice smiled as he slipped off of the van. Mundy's eyes fell on his fluffy family. 

"Well, you heard it guys. I guess I'm on holidays now." 

[yeojaa]

TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why.  Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds.  When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you.  "Yes."  Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic.  Always had been.  It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary.  You use your one brain cell for love.  It doesn’t always end well.

pairing.  who knows, honestly.  the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.  

tags.  blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy.

rating.  general (for now?)

word count.  ~4000

chapter 5.  

By the time you've finished dinner, tumbling through the doorway like two giddy school children, you feel like you've known Taehyung for a lifetime.

He'd told you all about his family, his little brother and sister that he loved dearly.  You'd sensed that same wistful longing from the interview, a sadness that presented itself in the way their names fell from his lips.  You were the younger sister of a relatively nuclear family, so you didn't know what it was that coloured his words or turned his blood to battery acid.  You could never understand.  Instead, you'd held his hand, offering comfort in the form of coiled fingers and a gentle squeeze.  You weren't sure if it'd had any effect but by the effort he'd put into his smile, you'd felt it had.

He'd brought up photos of his beloved Yeontan on his phone, swiping through albums and albums of the little black and tan Pomeranian.  You'd squealed with each new revelation, hands clapping with mirth at a particularly cute video of he and Tannie curled up in his bed.  You'd even been so bold as to ask him to send you a photo, insisting you needed one for his contact profile.  (He'd obliged, all too happily.)

You'd talked about your passions, your current internship and enrolment in composition.  You'd poured your heart out to him, hoping to convey everything it made you feel.  How it was your first love - guiding you through the best of times and holding you in the worst.  You'd felt like you'd lost him a couple times, only to have him repeat your words back like they were the single most interesting thing he'd ever heard.  

You'd admitted your short comings, providing a few brief tales of sordid affairs that hadn't ended well.  He'd laughed when you'd included your kindergarten crush, detailing the way Jeong Jisung had broken your heart when he'd kissed your cheek one day and ignored you the next.  You blended self-deprecation and otherworldly self-awareness so well, like a character breaking the fourth wall.

Together, you'd swept dust from old books, flipping through pages of memories together and baring secrets open for the other to see.

He'd made connections where he could, filling the missing gaps in your knowledge like golden thread in kintsugi.  He'd been friends with the same group of men since he was sixteen - the ones you'd met at breakfast, sans one important member.  Modelling had been something he'd thought to pursue, straight out of university, but he'd found comfort behind the lens rather than in front of it.  What a shame.  He was a curator at a gallery and still dabbled in art himself, finding beauty within the tiny square of his viewfinder.  Neon pink had painted every edge of his skin when you'd compared him to a Caravaggio.

"Thank you for dinner.  I ate so well."  Words are driven home by the way you're sluggish and soft beside him, a glutton for food (and for love).

Taehyung beams like you've done him the biggest favour.  "You're welcome.  Did you have fun?"

You meet his stare and your heart trips on itself, nearly lodging itself in your throat.  You swallow thickly, trying to find the words when you're about two seconds way from ruining everything with your over-enthusiasm.  It's impossible to think straight when he's so close and the streetlight above you is casting a makeshift halo around his head.  He's straight out of your wildest dreams - heaven sent. 

"Can I kiss you?"  Whether he's whispered it, you're not sure.  It hardly registers, dull behind the pounding of blood against your eardrums.  

Still, you nod dumbly, in case you hadn't just pulled the question out of thin air.

It's otherworldly.  That's the only way you can describe the way he kisses you, with hands cradling the slope of your jaw.  His touch is tender as he tilts your head to meet his, his mouth soft and dry, lips barely parted with the chaste peck.  It's over far too soon and you chase the ghost of him, ever eager for more.  You think he's like the first day of winter when the cold sinks into your skin and suffocates you.  It's piercing, digging into every fibre of your being and making you tingle like frostbite. 

He laughs again and the sound is breathless, like somehow you're the one that's stolen the air from his lungs and not the other way around.  

"Can I kiss you again?" 

You're ready this time and you meet his half-lidded gaze boldly.  "Please."

The feeling of his lips on yours again kicks your heartbeat into overdrive, a hummingbird come to life within the cavity of your chest.  He moves with such languid purpose, slanting his mouth sweetly.  He's never rushed, taking in the subtle taste of you and your bubble gum-flavoured lip balm as his palm adjusts, trails heat over the line of your neck and fits itself comfortably against your pulse.  Fingers tangle, gentle as a lover's touch, in the inky strands, and you hum a noise that borders on a whimper.

You feel him smirk against your lips.  You want to rebuff him, warmth spiking across your cheeks.  You're not sure whether it's embarrassment or all-encompassing want that turns your insides to jelly. 

When his tongue glides over your bottom lip, you know it's the latter.

That same half-whimper escapes you, swallowed whole by the cavern of his mouth as he coaxes you open with careful ministrations.  It feels so good and you're breathless, lost in the feeling of his exploring tongue, drawing your own to his in an intoxicating game of cat and mouse.  It doesn't even matter that you've known each other for all of five minutes and that you're crowded under an awning in the middle of Hongdae. 

To you, it feels like the beginning of a fairy tale. 

"I should probably get you home."  It's the best parts of him that have him drawing away from you, allowing you to regain your breath.  His hands have fallen from your neck, trailing affectionately over the royal blue wool of your cardigan until he's found your hands.  Your head is still swimming and you're grateful for the way he anchors you there, fingers interlocked.

"Probably,"  you answer, reluctant.  You're like a child whose favourite toy has been taken away, pouty and petulant despite your best efforts to appear as nonchalant as possible.  It's endlessly clear in the way your cheeks puff, fill with air you won't release;  your shuffling of feet, rubber toe of your sneakers dragging through a line of gravel.  It rolls off you in discontented waves and he's smiling, twisting your joined fingers until you're flush against him once more, your hands trapped in the space between you.

"We have lots of time."  He's reassurance in the form of another kiss, one that just barely grazes skin.  

You know he doesn't mean to tease you but you can't help chase the feel of him as if there's a string connecting you two.  A single red ribbon that spans his lips to yours, knotted in a noose around the thing that palpitates heavy in your chest.  You're greedy for another taste and you know he is too when he doesn't manoeuvre out of your way, instead revelling in the way your mouth finds purchase against the underside of his jaw.  You can taste his pulse there, just beneath the thin membrane of skin, and you think how easy it would be to go too far - to dive headfirst into the siren song of his heartbeat.

Instead, you withdraw, hoping against all hope that fate will reward you for your patience tonight. 

"I know,"  you breathe, still a little morose and all the more endearing.  When you meet his stare, it's coquettish and sly, narrowed behind thickly layered lashes.  "Take me home."  You trace the words like they're a treat, mouth shaping around the last word to drag it into debauchery.  

He knows you'll be the death of him.  He thinks he wouldn't mind.  "Lead the way."

You walk together like you've done it a hundred times, falling into comfortable silence as your feet mirror one another's.  His hand remains steadfast within yours, your cheek pressed to the soft wool of his coat as you amble along.  He hums a tune you don't recognize and you do your best to join in, dipping into your own music box when he trails off.  You sneak glances at him when he isn't looking and yet somehow, always meet his playfully patient stare, colour burning intensely across your cheeks when he meets you with no shame.

"Who would have thought,"  Taehyung muses when he catches you staring for the third time, tongue swiping across his bottom lip in that way you've come to recognize.  

"What?"  You're tilting your head, studying him closely.  You can already see the words that are weaving through his mind, coaxing others out of their hiding spots and slotting into place.  

"That we'd connect like this."  

The sincerity is a little too much, so you do what you're best at - pretend like it's nothing.  "You didn't think you'd meet someone as incredible as me?  On a random YouTube segment?"  A scoff to drive the point home, eyes twinkling merrily, though perhaps a bit too brightly for the guarded tone that wedges itself between your teeth.

"I thought it would be fun."  He's undeterred by your indifference and he continues, an unstoppable force.  Fitting.  "Jungkookie said it would be too good of an experience to pass up - that I would have nothing to lose."  Whether he notices the way you stiffen at his side, you're not sure.  He seems completely lost in his own thoughts, spying patterns in the sky above your heads, and you're grateful.  You don't want to think about him right now. 

"Well, he was right."  There's a casual lack of concern in your voice, a subtle steering of the conversation.  "But you've also only known me for like, a day."  You wiggle your eyebrows before remembering the fact that you're really quite terrible at it, and settle for opening your eyes as wide as possible.  You're sure you look ridiculous but Taehyung doesn't laugh directly at you, instead having the decency to hide his amusement behind a tight-lipped smile that threatens to blow open.  "You hardly even know me.  What if you end up hating the way I eat or the fact that I drink six coffees a day?"

"I've seen you eat and it's cute - and that just means more cafe dates."  Perhaps your examples were poor or maybe he can just read you that well.  You're not sure which it is and that scares you more than you want to admit.  "But even if I don't know you well..."  He's looking at you with those impossibly dark eyes, ones that threaten to pull you underwater and drown you in their depths.  "I feel like I already know you better than most people do."

You hate that he's somehow always so right.  It's infuriating and terrifying all at once.

Because he knew things even your so-called friends didn't, had you offering up your secrets like they were casual hello's.  He'd seen your lovesick heart and offered it a home, a quiet place to lay its head and in doing so, he'd swept into your life like a hurricane, uprooting all of your carefully constructed contingency plans.  He'd torn the excuses right from your mouth, taken your hands captive like they belonged with his.  You, who'd always kept everyone at arm's length out of fear for falling and shattering into a million tiny pieces. 

So you say nothing, letting your silence speak instead.  He seems completely fine with this, a self-satisfied settling over his face like it belongs there.

"This is me."  You've reached your block in no time at all and you can't help the disappointment that colours you when you pull to the side of the street, bringing him with you.  

"Goodnight then,"  He says sweetly with the tiniest edge of teasing.  He's about to move away, leave you high and dry, and you're doing your best not to hold too tightly, unfurling your fingers from his.  He's right - you had all the time in the world.  You repeat that in your head when the weight of his hand is gone and arrange a megawatt smile on your face, ready to wish him goodbye.  You don't expect him so close, however, his eyes lit up like the sky above you, full of promise.  It's easy to get lost in them.  "You didn't think I'd leave without a kiss, did you?"

When your lips meet again, tentative and lingering, you're not sure whether it's his laughter or yours that bubbles into the air.

You're on cloud nine when you swan into your apartment, gently nudging the door closed with the heel of your foot.  You sweep your tiny furry roommate into your arms, nuzzling your face into his soft slate coat and you beam at the way he returns your affections, like he's keenly aware anything else would be a mortal offence.  You don't even bat an eye at the mess you'd left behind this morning, the unfolded blanket hanging haphazardly across the loveseat, your laptop half-shut on the table beside a cup of forgotten tea.

"I had such a nice date, Po." 

You stare expectantly at your feline friend, cradling him under his front legs in a position very reminiscent of a certain Disney film.  He mewls what you think is understanding and you laugh, the sound breathless and sweet, dipped in fairy floss.  You settle onto the couch, legs tangling in your throw as you settle among the cushions.  Upo takes a front row seat, resting his paws upon your chest like a regal prince.  A low rumble starts, quiet at first and then louder, filling the small spaces between you.  You beam, stroking feather light over the turn of his chin, the sensitive spot behind his ears.  You're overflowing with love, like a balloon about to burst.  

"He's the one from filming, with the big boxy smile."  Speaking the words draws a picture in your mind, charcoal shading the contours of his cheeks and the sharp line of his nose.  It tries to mimic the kindness in his eyes, the way his cheeks grow ten sizes when he smiles, the full swell of his lips.  Your imagination is feeble in comparison to the real thing.  "I really like him,"  you relent in hushed tones, as if you're admitting a shameful secret.

Upo doesn't react beyond a flick of his left ear and a nudge of your now-stilled hand, a silent demand for more.  He's seen you through enough heartbreak - often by your own hand - that he takes everything you say with a grain of salt.  

At least, that's what you think as you resume the gentle scritching around his skull.  He's not very talkative.  "You'll get to meet him soon, I'm sure,"  you muse, aloud.  There's a drop of hope in the turn of consonants, softening the way they fall from your lips.  "I wonder if he likes cats."  You think back to his adorable dog, all black and brown and as endearing as his owner.  "Would you like to meet Tannie, Po?"  

It seems your companion has tired of your wishful crooning.  He rises, the soft beans of his toes kneading you like bread once, twice, before he hops off of you.  He doesn't even glance back as he disappears down the hallway, tail held aloft.  You can't help but snicker to yourself.  Normally, you'd be dragging him back against you, ignoring his yowls of complaint and only releasing him when he'd dug his politely sheathed claws into your flesh. 

Today, you were satisfied.  Full.

It's a nice feeling.  Not unfamiliar, but different.  Tinged a specific shade of rose that reminds you of Taehyung.

He's not sure what had possessed him to dig through his belongings, rummaging through school work he'd neglected to shred or burn when he'd graduated.  All he knew is that he wanted to find it. 

It, being the external hard drive he'd used for the duration of his four years in undergrad.

So, there Jungkook was, legs tucked beneath him as he pulled box after box from under his bed.  He rifles through each one with deft fingers, narrowly avoiding collections of paper cuts across his inked fingers and hissing through bared teeth when he manages to get an even worse cardboard cut along the slope of his palm.

He knew it was somewhere.  But where?

Frustration presents itself in something that more closely resembles a whine than a huff, the sound breaking the relative silence of his apartment and joining the constant stream coming from the far corner of his bedroom.  It's repetitive and loud, punctuated with expletives and directives that don't hugely make sense out of context.  He's streaming Overwatch, of course.

When his palm brushes something cold and heavy, he nearly upends the crate he's currently elbow deep in, fingers curling around the root of all of his troubles.  He hoists it into the air like it's buried treasure, glittering diamonds and rubies rather than a piece of hardware covered with a comically drawn sticker. 

He tells himself he'll put the boxes back later - a lie - and crosses to his computer in four long strides.  Even in his sweatpants, worn black and terribly soft from years of wear, he's all leg.  

The hard drive is connected and booted up almost before his butt sinks into the seat, his top of the line model-O mouse sweeping deftly across his gaming mouse pad.  He navigates through neatly labelled folders, clicking in and out of them like he's on a mission.  The irony that his electronic files are so perfectly kept - near obsessively, in fact - when it took him the better part of a half an hour to find the drive isn't lost on him.  Priorities, he thinks.

Once he's found the file, he pulls his headset over his ears and after a brief hesitation, he opens it.

Black swallows the screen and then you're there, reflected in the mirror beside him.  You're both in black - he in an too-big hooded sweater that swallows him whole and you in a leather coat.  There are passports fuzzy in the replication, two dark green covers gripped tightly in your hand.  He's grinning at himself - or you, it's impossible to tell - and you're bouncing from foot to foot like a kid on their first day of school.

It cuts to the airport and there are people milling around you, nearly swallowing you whole.  You dance past them, quick on your feet, and toss a cheery smile over your shoulder.  Then you're at the ticket counter and you're stepping past the gate agent as Jungkook's own tattooed hand comes into view, accepting his passport back as the ambient noise of the terminal fills his ears.  He follows you down the panelled glass hallway and the focus never cuts from the back of your head, midnight curtain spilling across your back and over your shoulder.

You make a noise when you're nearing the gate, turning to wiggle your eyebrows - or really, widen those pretty dark eyes of yours - at him.  He'd cut his laugh but he remembers it now, filling the enclosed space as you began swinging your arms back and forth like a chicken.  You stop right before you reach the aircraft door, flailing arms slackening to fall at your sides, the picture of normalcy.  If he hadn't known better, he would've thought you were crazy.  

There's a shot of his boots - combat leather with laces running up the front.  You'd made fun of him about them, insisting comfort was key as you'd wiggled your toes in your own yellow suede Vans with dirt marking the soles.

Music pours in from the headphones and it's a montage. 

Shots out the window of the plane, blue sky stretching far and wide above cumulus clouds.  The front seat of a taxi cab, unfamiliar Japanese characters shining back beneath the revolving door of lights that filtering through the windshield.  Your profile, crowded in shadow as you take in the sights, the characteristic little cars and city lights.  A single elevator button lit up beneath your finger, then all of them by his as he drags his hands down the cold metal.  The briefest flash of your face, mouth wide open before you double over in laughter and shove him;  the camera shakes.

Your figure again, draped in a soft flannel that stands in stark contrast to the denim of your jeans.  Your long hair sits pretty down your back, two space buns knotted on the top of your head and held in place with soft-looking grey pompoms.  The video follows you out of a hotel and into the backseat of a taxi, cutting from you taking a halfhearted selfie - he's reflected in your phone screen, though largely obscured by the lens of his camera - to you walking down the sidewalk, hands raised above your head as you wiggle your fingers like they've got minds of their own. 

He tracks you like his life depends on it, catching all of the little expressions that make his heart skip in his chest.

Your occasional look back, just to make sure he's still there and within reach, no more than five feet between you.  The way you spin in awe when you cross Shibuya Crossing, child-like wonder written into every line of your smile.  Excitement in a hall of infinity mirrors because it's not just a perfect photo opportunity but because you love Yayoi Kusama and you've been talking about it all day.  The track overlay steals your words but he reads the movement of your lips. 

"It's so beautiful."  He couldn't agree more.

More of you.  Some, up close, with you waving your fingers in your face as if to rebuff the attention.  Others, further away as you window shop, passing by gorgeous storefronts.  A long continuous shot of you finally finding the place you'd decided on for dinner - a kaisendon restaurant - and your grace as you'd skipped down the steps and inserted bills into the automated ticket machine.  Flashes of you shovelling rice into your mouth and his own portion growing smaller and smaller with each transition.

Tokyo's sprawling streets, lit up at every corner.  Hazy outlines of the people you roll by.  Then darkness, again, before it's you, jumping frantically in front of the Tokyo Disney Resort sign.  You look a little spastic, trying to land the perfect pose despite the fact that it's video.  You don't really care.

He can practically hear your laughter through his monitors, the giant Minnie Mouse ears askew on your head as you spin together in a teacup.  You'd had to do most of the work, with his filming and all, and you're out of breath, exhilaration staining your cheeks bright enough that he can make it out beneath the level  adjustments he'd done.  It's like every dream he's ever had come to life in the shape of your mouth, your delighted grin when you let the centrifugal motion carry you through the rest of the ride.

His heart stops, trips and hardly has time to right itself, when he catches sight of your intertwined hands.  They're there, just barely in frame as you drag him around the happiest place on Earth.

Your face is suddenly illuminated, by lampposts and further away and dim, the fireworks that are going off above your heads.  The aperture focuses on them briefly before returning to you.  You've got your phone up and you're on the balls of your feet, swaying to and fro as you try to capture the moment in your hands.  Then, all at once, you're turning to him and his line of sight is obscured, jumbled with lights and darkness.  It centres just in time to catch your faces, his cheek pressed to your hair, one of Minnie's ears scratching his eyebrow, and your teeth blinding around a smile. 

Then there's his name and the year - 2018 - flashing across his screen. 

As his wallpaper returns, Discord and Twitch maximizing to full size once again, Jungkook wonders where it all went wrong. 

notes.  yes, i put the "G.C.F. in tokyo" video into words and every minute of doing so was excruciating.

[readyplayerhobi]

Peppermint | 01

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future light angst

; Word Count: 10.6k

; Synopsis: Achieving your dream job is something that very people manage to do, which is why you’re all the more happier when you land a job on the film team at Poppin’ Culture; the biggest pop culture website, blog and YouTube channel around. What you don’t expect however, is to fall for the exceptionally shy and awkward colleague who is not even remotely your type. Or is he?

; A/N: This is just what I’ve been writing to try and get back into the swing of things. It’s just...light and fun. Was supposed to be a one shot but it’s getting long and it feels like a good place to end as a first part! Please send me thoughts, comments and encouragements as it’s a struggle to write lately ;-;

01 ; 02

-

“And this is our main office. It’s open plan, as you can see so I hope that doesn’t bother you too much. We’ve found it works better to just throw ideas out in the open or to just get reactions so feel free to shout out if you need something. Everyone’s very friendly,” Seokjin smiles at you brightly, his thick lips turning up and making his eyes sparkle behind his glasses as he leads you into the wide open space. “And this is your desk. Feel free to decorate it however you want. Nothing will beat the car wreck that’s happening on Jimin’s desk.”

“Hey! This is artistic mess. Everything has a place and there is a place for everything.” The bubblegum pink haired man in question half stands, a finger pointing threateningly while his pearly white teeth peek out from beneath plush pink lips. You can’t help but smile, as his slim frame and cute cheeks make him look distinctively non-threatening and ruin any hope he has of convincing you otherwise.

It could also be the fact he looks like a hipster from Seattle with the thick, black plastic frames delicately placed on his nose and the retro 80s film shirt with an open black and white plaid shirt over the top. Still...he’s rather pretty and you wonder momentarily if you’ve somehow entered another dimension with astonishingly beautiful people.

Either that, or you’ve walked into the set of some reality TV show but you’re not quite willing to break the Matrix programming just yet.

Seokjin snorts and rolls his eyes, lifting a ring laden hand to brush his black hair out of them. It’s hindered slightly by the tan beanie on his head and you’re momentarily distracted once more by his impressive frame. The white shirt with the Jaws film poster on it stretches rather enticingly over his broad shoulders while his black, ripped jeans are snugly secured with a leather belt that has a Superman belt buckle.

Honestly, how were you meant to work in this place?

He’d already introduced you to Namjoon, the creator of Poppin’ Culture who oversaw all aspects of his slowly booming media empire along with Namjoon’s wife, Chaeyoung. She oversaw the HR aspect of everything and had been your first point of call before Seokjin had come down to retrieve you upon getting the call that you had arrived.

Seokjin is the editor of the Poppin’ Culture website, which is the big daddy of the whole enterprise. It had originally started 10 years ago in Namjoon’s university bedroom apparently, just posting reviews of retro films and any new films that came out.

A decade later and it was the biggest source of pop culture news, blogs and entertainment in the Western hemisphere. The website scores over 250,000 hits a day with the blogs averaging a pretty healthy number too and the YouTube channels generating a steady enough income to keep a small team afloat with ease.

His sheer love of all things cultural meant that Poppin’ Culture had expanded far beyond its original remit of film and now had something for everyone. There was the film blog, the gaming blog, the music blog, the television blog and even the book blog. And you’d heard rumours of them branching into sports with talk of a fighting blog and channel appearing soon which would be interesting.

Sports were a whole other thing in the world of things people obsess over.

Either way, you’d been rather desperate to get a job here when the opening had appeared on the job listings website for a new in house content writer. When you’d found out that you’d got it, you were pretty sure that you’d almost deafened Sunmi with your screams of excitement.

As a film major with an English literature minor, it was perhaps the dream job to combine both of your loves together and work with people who were just as enthusiastic about the world of film as you were. Your friends and family had long since grown bored of how you picked apart the latest films or their trailers, but now you would have an audience of thousands that would not only be receptive to it, but interested too.

In your earlier meeting with Namjoon and Seokjin, they’d laid out your responsibilities for you pretty clearly. Given that you were in your six month probation period, you would be expected to create two blog articles a week with the possibility of writing a video script if it was approved by the video team.

Two articles may not sound a lot, but you’d already been informed that you would also likely have to do some indepth research into the topics to provide factual information, along with making sure it wasn’t something that had been done before. Not only this, but you would be expected to be constantly scouring the internet to find new topics of interest and trying to catch the latest leaks before they even happened.

While you’d been hired for the film team, you’d been told that most people tended to dip into other areas to help out or if they had some particular interest in it. As such, you could be expected to possibly be asked to find out the Top 10 Facts About The NES or 15 Things You Never Knew About Taylor Swift or something.

Wasn’t the most scintillating of things to you, but you were willing to branch out and help if necessary. It was a small team and you understand that sometimes you’d need to pitch in when it was required of you, which in turn meant you knew that you could rely on the same help.

“Jimin is our music guy. He’s the one who usually writes the music blogs and videos but he also does the gaming stuff sometimes. Also has a regular book blog where he reviews obscure international books because that’s his thing.” Seokjin says, rolling his eyes as he leans against the desk.

Jimin’s desk is littered with piles of CD cases - who even uses CDs anymore? - along with three different pairs of headphones. He also has a ton of Funko Pop! Vinyl figures that you recognise to be musicians along with a set of Assassin’s Creed characters. You recognise them because Sunmi’s ex-boyfriend had them too.

“Really? You’re going to come into my space, and ruin my time while insulting me? Am I going to wake up tomorrow morning to find you shitting on my lawn too?” Jimin slumps back in his chair, pulling a pair of pink and white headphones over his head to rest around his neck while eyeing the taller man with narrowed eyes.

“You live on the top floor of an apartment building ‘Min. What am I? A wizard?”

“I wish. Maybe you’d wingardium leviosa your ass off my damn desk.” He grumbles, nodding his head at you. “Have you ever read In The Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami?”

The question is so sudden that you’re left standing with wide eyes, shaking your head slowly. You’d not read a lot of translated work in college, though you were hoping to change that. Jimin sighs and slumps in his seat, clicking on his mouse a few times.

“Fucking weird dude. Still not entirely sure what went on it.”

Before you can even respond, Seokjin is leading you over to the desk behind Jimin. This desk is even messier, only you really can see the artistic mess here. It’s covered in pencil sketches that are stacked haphazardly while a high tech looking electronic drawing pad takes up most of the space with even the keyboard pushed away.

The guy sat comfortably in the green and black gaming chair has a black beanie on his head too, only he has platinum blonde hair that covers his eyes. And what pretty eyes they are when he looks up at you; as if someone has reached up into the sky and plucked two of the brightest, shiniest stars and placed them directly onto him.

“Oh, hey. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. I’m the graphic designer here...with a side passion of actual drawing obviously. I mostly use Photoshop but I like to get a bit hands on.” He talks rapidly, his voice quite deep but soft. Pausing, he bites on the black lip ring embedded in the right side of his lower lip before sitting back.

The vibrant and colourful tattoos that run up and down his arms do nothing to hide the obvious fit physique he has and you find yourself dragging your eyes away from that ridiculously broad chest. He’s only wearing a black shirt but my god.

Seokjin lets you both talk for a little, discovering that if you need anything made graphics wise then to let Jungkook know. Apparently he’s the head designer and has two more people under him; Jennie who deals with a lot of designing and Soyeon who handles their website and online shop.

You’re then introduced to Yoongi who is in charge of sound for the videos. He’s pretty quiet but friendly and bright, secluded away in the corner of the office with a soundboard in front of him, while his co-worker Lisa, a video editor, is entirely the opposite. They’re both sat on the same bank of desks, and the difference between Yoongi’s monochromatic desk and Lisa’s bubblegum pop explosion is almost amusing.

The video game team was made of Miyeon, Yugyeom and Baekhyun who all took up the corner on the opposite end of the office to you. You weren’t a huge gamer, but apparently the video game side of Poppin’ Culture was one of the most popular and profitable so you could understand why they had the largest team compared to the others.

Your desk is opposite Jimin’s, allowing you a view of him if you look to your right and it looks sparse compared to everyone else’s. The guy behind you is Taehyung and you’re pleased to discover that he’s friendly and warm with a bright box smile that makes you feel at home instantly.

Taehyung is the other content creator on the film team and someone that you’ll be working closely with, though apparently he also works with Jimin on music. From the short conversation you have with him, it seems that Taehyung mainly specialises in foreign film and you surmise that you’ll be left with most of the more mainstream options with the Oscar bait films being split between you both.

He seems enigmatic enough, with the white ribbon wrapped around his neck and billowing white button up shirt that ends with a pair of baggy, tan trousers. He’s not wearing any shoes, or socks, and you wonder if that’s a violation of something somewhere but no one seems to be saying anything.

His entire desk is full of various plants, artistic photographs in elegant frames and beautiful old film posters in miniature form. A photo of a black and tan Pomeranian is eagerly introduced to you as Yeontan, his dog and you can’t help but laugh at how excited he is to show off his lil pup.

But perhaps not as excited as you when you discover that Friday’s are ‘Bring Your Dog To Work’ day. Apparently Taehyung, Yoongi and Jennie all bring their dogs and it usually ends up just being people playing with them.

Yep, definitely the best workplace already.

“Hey Hoseok, come here before you sit down.” Seokjin calls out to the late entry into the office before looking at you. “I’ll introduce you to our head video editor. He’s the one who usually helps with recording videos, then he’ll edit it all together. He works closely with Jungkook for graphics and if you write a script then he’ll work with you to see if you want anything extra added in like humourous cuts, edits and so forth. He’s got Lisa on his team and a guy who works part time, Taemin.”

The man in question almost shuffles forward, a delicate looking hand gripping the brown fabric strap of his shoulder bag tightly while he looks down at his scruffy, black Converse clad feet as Seokjin introduces you to him. He looks about the same height as Seokjin, though all you can see is a head of messy chestnut brown hair and black circular lens glasses that looks like they’re going to fall off his nose.

“Nice shirt.” You say with an encouraging smile, wondering why Hoseok looks like he’s trying to crawl through the floor mentally. He looks up at that with almost shockingly wide eyes and you almost groan out loud.

This place is blessed or cursed. You’re not sure which yet.

He’s wearing a faded Jurassic Park shirt, the famous logo sliced by ‘dinosaur’ claws, while a pair of ever so slightly baggy and ripped denim jeans are kept up by an oversized tan fabric belt, the end trailing down to his knee. A knit grey cardigan covers his arms and you find it oddly endearing how it’s slipping off one slim shoulder, obviously far too big for him.

The shoulder bag he’s carrying also has the Back to the Future logo on it and you point at it with a grin. “Great Scott! I like your bag too.” You point then at your own chest, your shirt emblazoned with the Back to the Future logo and frown as his eyes dart down before his cheeks flush bright red.

His obvious shyness just seems to make him more endearing to you, and you let out a quiet laugh. There’s an almost awkward silence for a moment as Hoseok just stands there, giving Seokjin tiny glances before he finally sighs and points to the desk behind yours. Hoseok almost bolts there, disappearing behind the iMac and you look back at Seokjin with a raised brow.

He kneels down so he’s closer, the music of the radio that’s blasting out 80s classics drowning out anything he might say to you. “Hoseok’s a good guy, he’s just a little socially awkward. A hard worker, and he’ll do anything you ask but...it’s a little hard to get him to open up. Keep trying though, he will occasionally have a full conversation with you and I keep trying to make sure he’s included so he doesn’t feel left out. Don’t take it personally, it’s just how he is.”

Nodding, you turn on your own iMac and wait for it to boot up before going through the process of getting everything ready for you to work. Given it’s your first day, Seokjin just gives you some simple tasks to go through to help familiarise yourself with their method of working before leaving you to your own devices.

It’s as you’re sat reading through the style guideline for the blog that you watch as Hoseok suddenly appears in the corner of your vision. He’s rolled over to the edge of his desk, hands flipping through the stacked letter tray there as he searches for something while he presses his lips together and blows his cheeks out. You can’t help but watch him with idle interest as he does so.

He’s definitely cute, in fact he’s more than cute. Hoseok is actually stunningly beautiful and from the side, you’re getting to see his arresting profile with ease. A strong jawline swoops in bold lines on his face while his nose is a straight slope with the gentlest turn at the end, his lips thin but full enough to look delightfully kissable as he pouts suddenly without thinking as the tiny frown of concentration causes his strong brows to fold in.

As he finds what he needs, you watch as he disappears back behind his screen before sighing quietly to yourself.

It’s probably not very moral, but you definitely had enough new material to keep your spank bank going for a good few months now. If nothing else, you should thank Namjoon for that.

-

“Did you watch Roma yet?” Taehyung asks, rolling his chair backwards until he appears in your vision. His wispy blonde hair lays straight on his forehead as he rests his hands behind his neck, letting his long sleeved blue sweater stretch across his torso. It’s unusually tight for someone who basically lives in baggy clothes; you’re pretty sure he’s even worn his pyjamas once.

Over the last three months of you working at Poppin’ Culture, you’d understandably grown close with Taehyung as you’d bonded intensely over your love of film. It turns out he was also a film major with a photography minor, meaning he was exceptionally invested in the artsy films or just films with great cinematography.

You’d already been subjected to two passion filled rants of his about Mad Max: Fury Road and Blade Runner 2049 as being prime examples of great cinematography in big budget cinema. It was okay though, as you’d already chewed off his ear about why you thought Aliens was one of the best sequels ever made in history and he’d listened with interest.

There was nothing better than someone who was willing to indulge in your long winded talks about your favourite films; from cult classics to obscure favourites to Hollywood blockbusters. Your rapport with him was so good in fact, that Seokjin had had you do a test video with him to see how well you worked in front of the camera.

The results must have been positive as you’d been given a weekly film podcast with Taehyung that talked about the week’s releases along with any news in the film world. If there was time then you both would regale viewers with your favourite films and analyse them.

So far, it was doing pretty well and you were pleased with the numbers it was pulling in. Not to mention that people seemed to like your inclusion into the videos, which was why you’d ended up in a few other videos around music or even gaming just to voice over them. Taehyung had obviously been a hit.

He had a face for the camera and you’d already jokingly suggested in many a team meeting that they should make merchandise with just his face on it. His little fan club even named themselves ‘Taes Baes’.

“No, I haven’t had chance yet. I’ve been watching The Sinner, I’ve only got like two episodes left but I’ll check it out at some point! Alfonso Cuarón makes such good films; Gravity is still amazing and I’m still mind boggled at the sheer complexity of how that must have been to film with all the CGI they had to do but I feel like Roma looks a little more stripped down.”

Taehyung is nodding slowly, biting his lip almost absentmindedly as he listens to you. “Gravity is great, but you should definitely check out Children of Men. Much better, but Y Tu Mamá También is also phenomenal if you don’t mind the sexual scenes. But yeah, watch Roma. Definitely going to be a bit hit with the awards season and I can see him getting Best Director at the Oscars.”

“Really? It wouldn’t surprise me.” You muse, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your legs as you watch him now.

“Yep. And if he does win, then that’ll be his second Best Director win and it will also mean that Mexican directors have won five out of the last six. They’re killing the Oscars game lately. I still wish Barry Jenkins had won for Moonlight...way better than La La Land.” He sighs wistfully before nodding at your computer screen inquisitively, the beginnings of your latest blog post on the screen.

“Oh, I’m writing why I think Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse deserves the Best Animation at the Oscars. I liked The Incredibles and Ralph but if they win over the magnificence of Spider-Man then I will flip this table.” Pointing to your desk jokingly, Taehyung giggles sweetly.

Your desk has also changed over the last few months as well. A few cute Funko figures of your favourite Star Wars characters have popped up along with one or two more stylised figurines like your Xenomorph alien. Along with that, you’ve invested in some funky letter trays and pots to just bring some brightness to portray your personality a little more.

“I’ve not watched it yet. I know, feel free to pinch my arm. Hoseok has watched it though, he mentioned it the other day. Hey Hoseok, come here bro.” He calls out loudly, turning slightly to watch for the quiet man who spends his days on the computer behind yours.

Slowly, and adorably you might add, Hoseok’s meek face peers around the side of both his and your monitors as he stares owlishly at Taehyung beneath those outdated glasses. You’d say they were ugly, and they were, but he seemed to pull them off.

His hair is hidden today beneath a sand coloured beanie, leaving his entire face exposed and you coo softly at his tiny folded ears. It wasn’t something you’d noticed till Jimin had one day pointed over to the video editor, whispering words of adoration to you as he stared a little moon-eyed and lamented how his own ears didn’t look that cute.

It was beyond endearing, along with the slight pout his lips were pursed in. He probably hadn’t been listening to your conversation and so had no idea what was going on.

You’d noticed that Hoseok either kept an earphone in at all times or covered them with over-ear headphones when he wanted to work hard and not be disturbed. He certainly wasn’t rude but he definitely didn’t seem to be hugely confident in making conversations with people.

That didn’t stop people from trying to include him though, and you got the definite sense that everyone in the office adored Jung Hoseok and simultaneously wanted to hug him and protect him. You certainly did, and you were quite pleased that no one bullied him.

He, unfortunately, had the demeanour that would attract the attention of assholes but Seokjin and Namjoon ran a tight ship here. You did kind of wish that he got included in more outside events though.

“S-sorry. W-wh-what?” His voice is soft, the perfect mix of deep and high as he stutters out a response to Taehyung. The long sleeved shirt he’s wearing is almost salmon pink and has some generic looking cartoon on the front. It looks warm, and you find yourself lamenting the fact that you hadn’t brought a cardigan with you today.

“Spider-Man, the new one. You said to Jungkook that you’d watched it right?” There’s a moment of hesitation as Hoseok’s eyes flick to you before he’s nodding slowly. Almost immediately you grin brightly, not noticing the way that Hoseok pauses with his breath caught before his shoulders shift up to his ears.

“Oh my god, wasn’t it so good? The animation is just beautiful, it makes me want to scream. Like those cityscape shots? Could easily be mistaken for a photo if you just showed someone it. And the perfect blending of the different art styles of the Spider-People and god the music was so good. Miles is amazing and if it doesn’t win then I’m gonna Hulk out,” You pause and look at Taehyung who’s smirking in amusement. “Seriously, I don’t even know how to describe the animation. Think 3D...but not. You get me, right Hoseok?”

Hoseok’s eyes go astonishingly wide once more as you question and his mouth opens and closes a few times as he struggles to find an answer for you. He just settles for nodding quickly, reaching up to pull his beanie off and sort out his hair.

The chestnut locks have gone a bit wild under his hat and you have to bite your lip to stop laughing at how it goes all over the place, though another part of you wants to aww at how cute he looks.

“One day Hoseok, one day I’ll get you to spout poetic bullshit about a film you love.” You tease lightly, tapping at your gel wrist rest that lays alongside your keyboard to ease the pressure on your wrists as you type. He swallows audibly, causing you to laugh out loud while Taehyung chuckles and shakes his head.

“Hoseok has fucking terrible film taste. He thinks Batman v Superman was actually good.” Jungkook calls out and you turn to look at the graphic designer. He’s reclining in his chair, hands over his stomach with an ankle hooked over his knee while he observes the scene on the other side of the office.

Jimin is in the exact same position behind him while he nods his head sagely and you gasp in horror, a hand to your chest as you look back at Hoseok. “Say it isn’t so Hoseok.”

The man in question looks like he wants to sink through the floor as he gives a meagre shrug. Your wail of horror has him cringing while everyone else in the office sniggers and Taehyung pats your back in consolation.

“This can’t be. Why? Is it because your mom is named Martha too?” Jungkook lets out a bark of laughter at that while Jimin creases, folding over in his chair as his forehead rests against his knees from the force of his laugh.

Hoseok attempts to speak a few more times before he frowns deeply, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “N-no. That was d-d-dumb. I just like Batman. I-i-it’s not my favourite f-f-film but it’s not terrible.”

You lean back and stare at him, raising a brow slowly as you narrow at your eyes at him. “What is your favourite film then?”

This is probably the most you’ve talked to Hoseok in the whole three months about non-job related work. You’re actually surprised he’s engaging this far, and you study him closely to make sure he doesn’t look uncomfortable or unhappy. The last thing you want is him to get upset.

But he doesn’t back down from your question, instead staring at something on his desk intently before looking back at you. You almost lean back in reaction, the intensity of his gaze far stronger than you’d expected and you’re surprised to feel a slight stirring of sexual lust for him. While you’d always acknowledge he was handsome - wasn’t everyone in this place? - you’d never quite seen Hoseok in a ‘oh holy cow’ light until right now.

“I-I-I don’t have one. B-b-but I like Jurassic Park and Blade Runner. And the Godfather. Oh, and Big Hero 6.” He adds as an afterthought, and you feel oddly proud that he didn’t stutter throughout the rest of the conversation. It was obviously just a nerves thing, but you kind of hope that he’ll get a bit bolder if you keep trying with him.

“Good choices. Solid. Not pretentious like the avant garde master here. He probably watches his porn in French black and white too.” A casual thumb thrown in Taehyung’s direction gets you the finger in response.

“It’s black and white softcore German, you heathen. No one does the group sex quite as good. The camera angles when there’s so many bodies.” He kisses the tips of his fingers before blowing them in the air, causing you to stare at him with a slightly grossed out face.

Looking at Jimin, you shake your head. “You know, I’ve only known the two of you for three months now. But I can easily see how you started dating. You with your weird music and books and Taehyung with your pretentious films.”

Taehyung gasps theatrically before smiling, fully aware that you’re joking around with him. Jimin on the other hand, snorts loudly and sticks his tongue out at you. “Hey, there’s nothing weird about my music choices. And what the hell. You’ve been listening to Billie Eilish non-stop lately according to your Spotify. And while she’s incredibly talented, I wish she’d lighten up a little.”

Turning to look at the cotton candy haired guy, though his hair was mostly hidden today by a black ball cap, you raise an eyebrow slowly. “Firstly, don’t insult Billie like that! Her songs are beautiful and soothe my soul. And also, this coming from the guy who listens to Morrissey. Unironically, I might add. Your opinion is invalid in this conversation.”

“...You know what. I can't even argue that. You right.” Jimin shrugs in defeat and sits back while Taehyung makes consoling noises at his boyfriend from his seat.

The delicate snort from behind your monitor makes your eyes widen, causing you to shift over slightly to watch Hoseok as he giggles. His white teeth peek out at you as he bites on his lower lip to try and contain his laugh.

And from how pretty and sweet it sounded, you wish he wouldn’t. The soft noises he lets out are oddly infectious, causing you to laugh in turn with a pretty dopey expression on your face and making you completely oblivious to the sly look Jimin and Taehyung are sharing.

“You love Imagine Dragons too, right? Hoseok listens to them all the time.” Taehyung says helpfully, gesturing with his chin towards the man behind your monitor.

Spinning back, you look at Hoseok with a happy grin and clap your hands together excitedly. “Oh my god, yes! I’m in love with Bad Liar right now, and Zero is so fun. I think Jimin keeps laughing at me for dancing in my seat.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond to you properly though, just nodding his head and smiling slightly as you playfully glare at the slim man across the office.

“On the subject of dating though...Hoseok. Have you ever had a girlfriend before? Or boyfriend, if that’s your thing.” Jimin asks, his tone not even slightly sly and you look at him in surprise. If he was trying to not be obvious, then he was being about as subtle as the Seattle Space Needle. Surely they’d already know this right?

As far as you’ve gathered, Jimin has been at Poppin’ Culture for four years and Taehyung for three. The two had started dating two years ago and despite your teasing, you were already confident that they were two of the cutest couples you’d ever seen.

Hoseok though, had apparently been with the company for years. He’d gone to college with Namjoon, Chaeyoung and Seokjin and had a film production degree. Namjoon had started Poppin’ Culture when he was 19, in his second year, and Hoseok had come on board once they’d branched out to a YouTube channel.

Still, you’re surprised by the way Hoseok’s cheeks go bright red and his eyes dart to you for a moment before he’s looking down at his desk once more. A wet tongue peeks out of his mouth quickly as he licks along his lips to wetten them, coughing to clear his throat before he’s looking back up at Jimin with a frown.

“Would you like the name of my e-e-ex-girlfriend? I’m s-s-socially awkward, not inept.” You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you look at Jimin with a ‘wtf’ look. As nice as he was, he was a bit blunt and you felt that situation could have probably done with a little more tactful handling. Hoseok looked like he could fry an egg on his cheeks and Jimin winces at the glare both Taehyung and you give him.

“Sorry man. I was out of line. I didn’t mean to insult you.” The apology is sincere in tone, with Jimin ducking his head and turning back to his work. You watch carefully as Hoseok eyes the younger man before letting out a quiet sigh and nodding his acceptance.

The atmosphere is slightly awkward now, and you’re desperate to make Hoseok less uncomfortable which is why you find yourself blurting out words you immediately want to swallow back up. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve not had a boyfriend since I was 20 and I’ve not been laid in four years.”

Almost immediately your hand is slapping over your mouth as your eyes widen in horror, apologies falling from your lips like honey as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Not only are Hoseok’s eyes resembling dinner plates, his jaw dropped open in shock, but so is just about everyone else’s in the office. Well, that’s certainly one way to make him feel better about himself you guess.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Everyone, we need to be careful with her. She’s going through some tough times. Only 26 and already looking at a life of non-sexual fulfilment.” Taehyung drones deeply, his voice faux-sincere and you glare at him while pushing his hand off your shoulder.

“I will delete your folder of obscure foreign films.” You hiss at him through narrowed eyes, causing him to burst out into laughter as his hand slaps his thigh in amusement.

“Oh god, you crack me up. I need to thank Seokjin for hiring you, seriously. God, get on with your Spider-Man boner before you accidentally reveal something else way too intimate for the workplace to know.” He snorts before rolling back to his own desk. The office thankfully goes back to normal after that, the low level of chatter competing with the soft sounds of today’s playlist.

Looking at your screen, you’re distracted momentarily by the sight of Hoseok still in view just around your monitor. He’s looking at you in that way people do when they’ve checked out, their brains focused on something else entirely and you watch him back in amusement until he realises.

Almost immediately he cringes, bowing his head slightly and giving an uncomfortable smile before sliding back out of view. Smiling, you shake your head and pop your headphones back into your ears as you get back to work.

You’re oddly pleased to see Hoseok stand up for himself bluntly, and you remind yourself not to baby him. He’s a grown man after all, older than you.

The flashing of your phone lets you see that you’ve got a new notification from Facebook, and you roll your eyes as you click on your screen to see what it is. What you see however has you slowly smiling as a flutter of butterflies take flight in your stomach and you tap accept eagerly.

You have a new friend request: Jung Hoseok

-

The next few weeks roll by quickly with Taehyung and you becoming inundated with awards season nominations, ceremonies and just general Oscar bait films. It had even resulted in a whole ‘Top 10 Oscar Bait Films’ video on the Poppin’ Culture Film YouTube channel which had proven remarkably popular, even spawning a sequel that was generated purely from user comments.

You’re actually surprised with just how much you continue to love your job, even with the sheer pressure of blog and video deadlines constantly breathing down your neck. And it doesn’t take you long to realise that it’s because of the people you work with who make working that overtime all the more sweeter.

Jimin is genuinely hilarious and when paired up with Jungkook he becomes hysterical. Lisa has easily become your female work best friend, with the two of you Skyping all the time on your work computers and soon venturing out into the world to go to dinners, concerts and the cinema while Taehyung is an incredibly hard working colleague who always keeps a close on eye on how you’re doing.

It’s genuinely one of the best places you’ve ever worked and you thank all your lucky stars that you’d been accepted because you were pretty sure that you were making some of the closest friends you could.

And then there was Hoseok.

Jung Hoseok still remained a mystery to you and you weren’t entirely sure why you so desperately wanted to figure him out. Or maybe not figure him out, because you kind of liked how shy and mysterious he is.

The rest of your colleagues have been pretty open books and you were pretty sure that you were on the verge of receiving daily updates on Jimin and Taehyung’s sex life - you were that close with the two. But you still knew almost nothing about Hoseok and it drove you wild.

What was even more annoying was the fact that only you were apparently bothered by it too. The others just shrugged and said that he’d always been quiet and introverted, so they just made it clear to him that they were there if he wanted to talk or make friends with them. Apparently he never went out on the workplace socials and he rarely talked to others via text or Skype.

Which kind of infuriated you, because it probably was true that Hoseok preferred to be alone and lost in his world of music. But there must be something horribly isolating about never getting invited to things or never being included, which is why you kept trying to include him in your own conversations. The others would sometimes talk around him, but you always tried to make sure that he felt comfortable and included in your conversations.

Taehyung had honestly admitted in a meeting that he wasn’t entirely sure why you kept asking Hoseok things, pointing out that you might be annoying him. But you’d countered with the fact that you always gave Hoseok plenty of options to slip out of the conversation, yet he would continue it on sometimes.

It had been then that Taehyung had flushed a pretty golden pink, nodding his head as he acknowledged the fact that Hoseok had opened up more in the last few months of you being here than in the years he’d been here. That on its own had made your heart hurt. No one could enjoy being so easily disregarded, no matter how quiet and introverted.

Currently though, you were slouched on your couch with your best friend, Sunmi, as you both ate pepperoni pizza while watching Avengers: Infinity War for the bajillionth time. You, because you just loved the film, and her because she really loved Chris Hemsworth.

Honestly? Mood.

“I swear, this is the most badass entry scene of any entry scene in all of film,” You blurt out randomly, lifting your fist as Thor appears on screen in the middle of the battlefield and shouting out alongside him. “Bring. Me. Thanos!”

Sunmi snorts elegantly from your side, taking a bite of greasy pizza and chewing slowly while she eyes up her fictional man with pleasure. A hum of delight leaves her when Thor meets up with Captain America and you laugh, poking at her side.

“Imagine being in a Chris sandwich.” She looks at you and wiggles her carefully put together eyebrows before giggling.

“I wish. God, they can wreck me any day. You know, I can’t believe that you get to watch stuff like this and then write about it or make a video about it. Why can’t I just laze around and do that? Do they have an opening for me?” She pouts at you, placing the crust back in the box before wrapping her hands around your wrist and playfully whining.

You laugh loudly and take a bite of your own slice. “For what? Sorry Elle Woods, but you’re going to have keep your bending and snapping for the judge and jury. I doubt Poppin’ Culture - The Law Version will be very popular.”

“What about if I wear a hot pink bikini?” She says seriously, her face carefully blank as you give her a droll stare.

“Yeah sure, lemme give PornHub a call. I’m sure they’ve got a whole audience just waiting for their law lectures from Bikini Girl 3.” Sunmi shrieks with laughter at that, rolling backwards until her head is hitting the arm of the sofa and relaxing into the pile of cushions there.

Reaching her foot up, she prods at your thigh annoyingly until you push her away with a sigh.

“So, how is your work though? You’ve been spending a lot of time there. Which, by the way, is ridiculous. I only spend extra time doing work if I’m getting paid for it because I do not enjoy my job that much.” Sunmi sighs heavily, letting her arms fall behind her head as she turns her gaze back to your large television screen.

“Okay firstly, it was your decision to take a law degree. Your parents are assholes but they’re not dickish. They would have been fine with you being a doctor instead. Secondly, you make so much money an hour that you shouldn’t complain. You can literally buy a pair of Jimmy Choos with an hour.” Closing the pizza box, you lean forward and place it onto your wooden coffee table before leaning back and patting your stomach affectionately.

“Firstly you bitchass, I don’t make a lot because I’m still not fully qualified yet. It costs a lot to be a lawyer and the work is boring because I’m in property law. Yawn. Secondly, I hate property law but I would’ve passed out being a doctor. Blood and snot? No thanks. Maybe I should just give it all up and go back to college to become an artist.” She says dreamily and you look over at her with a raised brow.

“Do it. If it’s what you want. Your life shouldn’t be made on a decision you did based on what your parents wanted for you, as much as you might want to make them happy. They’re not your life, and you’ll burn out quicker if you do something you hate.” Sunmi just hums before shifting the pillows until she’s looking at you.

“Still. It’s nice that you’re enjoying it. I’m happy for you. I need to meet this Lisa, so you better set up a playdate or something. If she’s banging, I may just bang her. I mean, if you’re alright with that. And she likes girls.” Sunmi wiggles her brow and you laugh, shaking your head slowly.

“I think Lisa swings both ways honestly, so go for it. She’s pretty and cute with a really nice and fun personality. I wish I could introduce you to Jimin and Taehyung as well. They’re funny individually but hilarious together. Urgh, I wish I had someone the way Jimin eyefucks Tae across the room.”

“Does he realise you can see that?” She asks, an incredulous look on her face and you nod with a laugh.

“Oh yeah. He just gives me an innocent smile. They’re fun though and make me laugh, it’s like a family.” You sigh softly, slumping down further into the couch pillow. Sunmi’s quiet for a few seconds before speaking again.

“What about that quiet guy? Hoseok right?” Pausing, you chew on your lip as you stare blankly at the screen and wonder how to describe him to her.

“Hoseok...is sweet. Quiet but sweet. He doesn’t get involved in conversations of his own accord still, but I include him and he’ll get more involved now. We even have whole conversations just him and I, particularly about our love of 80s films though they’re not very long conversations. It’s nice, I’m literally watching him become more integrated and it’s kind of annoying that everyone just let him stagnate in his isolation. Like, seriously. Did no one ever think that maybe he doesn’t get involved because people have let him isolate himself? It’s hard to pull yourself out of that, and he’s obviously trying.” You don’t even realise you’re half ranting until you see Sunmi’s bemused smile, causing your cheeks to heat.

“Anyway, yeah. He’s a lot more caring than people think too. He just doesn’t show it in ways that you or I would, nor does he talk about them. Like...the other week I came in one morning to find a tube of dissolvable vitamin C tablets on my desk. When I asked where they’d come from, Hoseok Skyped me and said that he thought I looked like I was lacking a bit of vitamin C and to take one with water every day. And then when I was feeling a bit tired, he made me a cup of green tea. I swear Sunmi, he was so sweet and adorable because he kept stumbling over his words while telling me that green tea was healthy and rejuvenating but he didn’t like the taste so he always has peppermint and he hoped I liked peppermint too.”

Sunmi says nothing for a moment and you look at her in confusion, wondering why she’s suddenly decided to be quiet. It’s not like her to not get involved in your conversations, only she’s staring at you with wide eyes and a pretty mouth that’s fallen open.

“Oh my god. You like him.” Her words cause you to pause, frowning immediately as you shake your head in denial.

“What? No I don’t. I mean, yeah as a friend. Or I hope as a friend, but not anything more than that.” She lets out a peal of high pitched laughter while sitting up, looking closely at your face with those mahogany eyes of hers.

“Yes, you do. Oh my god, he is not even remotely your type from the sounds of it yet you’re falling hard girl. Show me a picture of him.” You want to keep denying her, mind spinning from what she’s come out with as you wonder where she’s got this impression from.

But once Sunmi has made up her mind, then it’s game over for everyone else. Sure enough, you find yourself scrolling through your phone on Facebook to find a nice picture of him to show her. And as you look through his, admittedly few, profile pictures, you pause for a moment as you realise that maybe she’s right.

Only people who like someone try and find the best looking picture of them, too afraid that their friend or family member will laugh and think their crush ugly. The swooping sensation in your stomach is confusing, and you don’t know whether it’s shy excitement or just plain old nausea.

Finally deciding on a picture of Hoseok that has obviously been taken in a coffee shop, you turn the phone screen so she can see. It’s got dim lighting, and has looks to have been taken on a Polaroid style camera from the style of it but he looks good.

In fact, he looks beautiful and his bright smile kind of takes your breath away.

He’s just wearing a plain white, long sleeved shirt with dark brown hair parted in the centre, the strands laying carelessly on his forehead while those beautiful chocolate eyes stare out from behind the lenses of his glasses. The table blocks anymore view of him and yet you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your stomach slowly spread along your veins.

Hoseok’s smiles are still rare, but they’ve slowly been becoming more frequent as you continue to talk to him. And every time you think he should smile more often, because he has a face that’s made for a smile.

His mouth is stretched wide with perfectly white, straight teeth showing and the force of the expression causes his eyes to narrow, soft tan cheeks looking adorably kissable.

Oh, you’re totally fucked.

“Holy shit…are you kidding me? This is Quiet Guy? Shy Guy? Holy fuck girl. He’s gorgeous! Look at that smile, oh my god. And he has such pretty eyes, that’s just not fair. Oh, please go for him. I know I said that he’s not your type because you normally like either those hipster guys or bad boys but he looks like he’d be so good for you. He looks kind, like you’d call him and say you’re sick and he comes right over to make you food and wraps you up in a blanket before cuddling with you, telling you that you need body heat to stay warm.” You look at her with a raised brow as she takes your phone and scrolls through his photos.

“And he obviously likes you.” Her words throw you then, causing you to frown as you stare before finally asking why she thinks.

“Because you said it yourself. He talks to you, even when he doesn’t talk to the others. You’ve said he keeps conversations going with you. He added you on Facebook first and he’s taking care of you in a weird but cute way of flirting. Like I said, he looks like he’d be a good boyfriend because he’s already trying to make sure you’re healthy and okay.”

She hands your phone back and points at the screen, where a new photo of Hoseok is. It’s not from his profile pictures, so you just presume it’s one that someone took of him and tagged him in. He’s asleep on his side on a couch, his right cheek smooshed into a pillow while his other looks soft and round. Pink lips pout in his sleep, the ends turned up while his lashes remain firmly closed and his hair is all over the place.

You have the strongest urge to reach through the screen to kiss his cheek.

“I think you should think on it, because I know you. And you’re probably having a little internal argument right now about whether or not you like him. But...if you decide that you do. Then I think you should go for it, because he looks nice. Get to know him a bit more, get him to open up his walls to you a bit more and then see if he really is interested. It’s been a while since you smiled like that about someone, and even longer since you searched through their pictures to find me the most flattering.” Dammit, you knew she’d figure you out.

You don’t respond though, simply locking your phone and placing it down on the cushion next to you as you both turn your attention back to the film. But you can’t help the what if’s that float around in the back of your mind, wondering if perhaps she’s right not only about yourself, but also him.

Did Hoseok like you?

-

Quite understandably, your interactions with Hoseok are suddenly tinged with a film of awkwardness as you contemplate the fact that you quite possibly like your shy colleague. And that’s to say nothing of how closely you watch his interactions with you to see if there’s a chance that he likes you in the way you like him.

Honestly, anyone would think you were 14 and not 26.

But he made you feel like a teenager though. The fluttering of nervous excitement in your stomach whenever he would look at you with that soft, bashful smile he’d give you whenever he caught your eye in the office. The way you would feel sad resentment when he was ill or was working from home and so didn’t come in.

How could you not though? Not only was he soul wrenchingly handsome and pretty, he was also thoughtful with the few conversations he would engage in and he was so sweet and kind.

When you’d complimented him on the peppermint green tea he’d brought you the other week, you found yourself with a mug being made every time he got up to go to the kitchen. You’d be completely absorbed in your work, staring at your screen intently with headphones in to keep distractions at bay, when you’d suddenly smell the pleasant scent of peppermint drifting to your nose.

And then you’d look to your side and see a fresh cup of tea sat there, steaming slowly in your Star Wars mug.

A quick glance behind your screen would let you see Hoseok staring firmly at his screen, refusing to look at you and yet his cheeks tinging a rosy glow that made your heart tug. It was only fair to respond in kind, and so you’d taken to making him a cup of your favourite tea as well, delicious salted caramel, and leaving it on his desk.

He hadn’t complained, so you took that as a sign that he enjoyed it too.

Maybe others would look at your interactions with laughter or bemusement, but you liked them. If he was flirting with you, because let’s face it you were flirting with him, then you were quietly excited and hopeful. You could cope with glacial, as long as it would hopefully result in something at the end.

Currently, you were attempting to film a video talking about the films that were snubbed completely at the Oscars. Taehyung had written up the script for you but was suffering from a winter cold at home. You’d claim man-flu, only you’d video called him and seen the dark circles under his eyes, sallow skin and bright red nose as he’d sniffled and snorted his way through your conversation.

As a result, you’d had to grab your emergency make-up kit from your drawer and rush to the bathroom to apply it. Today had been a lazy day; meaning you were just wearing a pair of ratty black jeans and an ancient Star Wars shirt that had once been black but was now an odd shade of grey.

Once you’d felt that you looked at the very least passable to the potentially thousands upon thousands of people who would be watching your face, you rush back through the office to place your kit back before heading over to the recording room. Tapping on the door lightly, you open it up to find Hoseok and Lisa inside as they set up the camera and lighting.

Already, the big ring lights are glaring and you’re feeling hot as you move over to the two, watching as they mess with the camera before checking over the computer on the desk next to it. Lisa moves around to the front, standing over the duct tape X on the floor and clipping the tiny microphone onto her shirt while waiting for Hoseok.

He’s wearing a plain white shirt today with a yellow and black check shirt open over the top and a plain pair of jeans. For some reason, he’s apparently decided to emulate Jungkook and is wearing some tan Timberland’s as well, though they surprisingly work well with the outfit.

You’ve noticed that Hoseok isn’t exactly the most fashionable person, but he’s yet to wear something that you find genuinely offensive. In fact, you often find that he manages to look hot even when he really shouldn’t. Maybe it’s just a talent attractive people have?

Hoseok gives a small nod to Lisa as his eyes flicker up from the screen, the light being reflected in his glasses. Lisa begins to talk random nonsense, performing a soundcheck to make sure the microphone is working properly while also making sure the camera’s fine.

Once done, she helps you to thread the microphone through your shirt and clip it on while placing the main pack into your back pocket. You stand on the X while going over the script that you can read on the screen reader facing you on the table.

Lisa slips away while you’re busy practicing, going through quick vocal exercises to warm your voice up as you continue to read over what you’re going to say. In your mind, you’re already visualising what the video will look like and you kind of feel sad that Taehyung can’t do this. It’s a good script.

“Okay. Are you ready?” Hoseok’s voice is soft and light, every word sounding like it has been cautiously thought of before he speaks it. You smile slightly as your head nods forward in response to him before clearing your throat and clenching your hands a few times while letting out a deep breath.

“Am I in the right place?” Looking down at the floor, you make sure that your feet are squarely on the spot and Hoseok looks through the camera before giving a cute okay symbol with a wink and pressed smile. It causes you to bite your own lower lip, desperately keeping inside the ‘cute’ that wants to escape.

“Okay, recording in three...two…” He stops speaking after that and mouths out the final one before pressing the button to record, a red light sparking to life on the camera and immediately you’re smiling brightly.

There’s no real pressure on you to do a good take in one shot, because Hoseok will be editing the scenes together and making some shorter to suit the video anyway. But you don’t really like wasting unnecessary hard drive space for him if possible. Plus, it just means he has to stare at your foolish facial expressions for longer and you’d really rather not.

On that note, it’s a little unfair that he gets to watch your face up close with a 4K camera. Actually, you’ve never thought about that before and almost immediately your brows crease at the thought of him seeing every pore and blemish on your skin. Christ, the camera does not do anyone justice and you want to whine at the thought of him seeing all your bad points in such harsh lighting.

When you don’t actually start speaking and instead start making a distressed face, Hoseok’s head peeks out from behind the monitor and he frowns at you in turn. Eyes focusing on his pretty visage, you have to squint slightly to see him properly from behind the astonishingly bright lights set up but you shake your head to reassure him.

Rolling your head on your shoulders and blowing bubbles with your lips, completely unaware of the tiny amused smile on Hoseok’s lips as he watches you through the monitor, you force yourself to get back into the zone.

The rest of the hour spent recording goes more or less like usual, with multiple outtakes when you mess things up and cause yourself to laugh. One of the hardest things of recording videos is just being able to being able to speak properly. You’ve had to learn to over-enunciate sometimes to avoid slurring your words together, because that just encourages hate from viewers.

And you are not in the mood to get hate. It’s already hard enough being a female commentator on the channel, and you’d had to grow some pretty thick skin in both the comments and on your own social media.

But there were plenty of equally great people too in fairness, and you’d even kind of got to know some regular viewers from the constant interactions you got both on your videos and on your own Twitter account. It was nice to have a mini fan club of people who were willing to defend you against the trolls and raise you up when you’re feeling down, though it’s not nearly as many as Taehyung’s extortionately big legion of fans.

There’s only a few major mishaps this time, with a few pronunciations of your words going horrifically bad and you find yourself cringing. Hoseok has a good chuckle on occasion and the bright bubbles of his laughter make you smile in turn, heart sparking with happiness at making him laugh.

Once Hoseok gave the signal to indicate that he was pretty happy with the recording, you let your shoulders drop while your head falls back on your shoulders, a deep groan leaving you as your entire body relaxes. Reaching to pull the microphone and its pack from under your shirt, you move over to Hoseok as he turns the light and camera off before he’s checking over the computer to transfer the new video files to his solid state drive.

“Did everything look good in it?” You ask, leaning your hip against the desk while your arms cross over your chest. Hoseok pauses for a moment at your close proximity before looking up at you slowly, his beautiful brown eyes looking sweetly innocent and big as he takes you in.

It’s still ridiculously endearing how shy he gets around you, but what you like even more is how it’s only when he’s not doing work related things. The last hour has been spent with him practically bossing you around, barking out polite requests when you’ve moved out of frame or have said something wrong.

He wasn’t mean about it or anything, he just took his job very seriously and it’s what made him such a damn good videographer and video editor. He knew what he needed and wasn’t afraid to tell people what to do in regards to that, so the sudden reversal back into the meek Hoseok tugged at your heart.

“Y-yeah. You did good. Less bad shots today.” You pout at him theatrically before pushing lightly at his shoulder, just enough to make him rock where he stands.

“Hey! There’s no need to be mean. You make it sound like I’m as bad Yugyeom! I don’t mess up that bad.” Lower lip sticking out, you look down at the floor until Hoseok lets out a soft and breathy laugh, shaking his head while adjusting his glasses slightly.

“I-I didn’t mean-. I’m not saying anything else,” He looks at you and gives you a wry smile. “I-I’m not stupid. I think I’ve dug enough of my own grave here.”

You can’t help but laugh out at that as you lean forward, body moving of its own accord before you move around him and rest your hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and solid beneath your palm, even through the layers he’s wearing and you swallow in sudden awareness of the firmness of him.

He freezes in place subtly as well, the muscles under your fingers tensing a little as neither of you move for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched him, and neither of you really seem to know what to do.

Swallowing, you let out a chuckle that’s a little higher pitched than you perhaps intended but you try to make it sound as natural as you can. Even if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed now when your hand feels warm and bizarrely sweaty.

“Funny, you’re way funnier than I thought Hobi!” The nickname you’d overheard Seokjin calling him once slips out without meaning to and you cringe with gritted teeth behind his back, taking your hand off his shoulder to pinch your leg at your stupidity. “Well, I hope it goes well. Let me know if there’s anything you need from me or just when it’s done so I can look it over? Thanks and bye!”

You can’t stop how fast the words fall from your lips, a faucet stuck on full when what you really want is a vault so tight not even the crown jewels of England can get out of it. Giving him an awkward smile, you book it out of the recording room as quickly as you can and leave him alone.

In fact, you go so fast that you don’t get to see the way Hoseok watches after you with widened eyes of shock which soon melt into half-moons of unguarded happiness in the quiet room. His hand shakes as it moves up to press at the place your own hand had been, the skin feeling prickly underneath and his breath shakes as a hesitant smile slowly paints its way on his face.

You don’t see that, nor do you see the way he pauses on a close up of your face with a fond smile before closing the programme down and leaving.

[timjmason]

East of the Moon and West of the Sun

Once upon a time there was a miller. He had six sons and seven daughters. He worked hard every day, but however hard he worked, there never seemed to be enough money for all his children to be fed and clothed

His eldest son had a hole in his shoe, and his toes poked through.

The next one had holes in his socks and his ankles poked through.

The next one had holes in his trousers, and his knees poked through.

Another had a jersey that was more hole than wool and his elbows poked through.

Another had a shirt that was far too small, and his belly was naked to the wind.

And the youngest could only ever wear the clothes that his older brothers were not using that day -

and sometimes you saw his toes,

and sometimes you saw his ankles

and sometimes you saw his knees

and sometimes you saw his elbows

and sometimes you saw his belly

but most of the time you saw nothing at all but his head and shoulders, because he had to stay in bed, covered up in the one thin blanket.

The eldest daughter was so thin that you could play piano on her ribs.

The next sister was so thin that her eyes almost popped out of her head.

The next sister was so thin that if she turned sideways, you couldn't see her.

Another sister was so light that a gentle wind could blow her over.

Another sister was so light that she could ride on the back of a mouse.

The sixth sister was so light that a bird would think she was a feather

But the youngest sister, beloved of all, was the most beautiful girl in the village, and the young men would dream of her when the wind was high, and sigh for her when the wind was low, and they all loved her until their hearts ached. But she didn't notice She didn't care She didn't give a fig and passed them by with a toss of her long black hair and a flash of her dark black eye, which only made the young men fall even more deeply in love with her, so they pined away and became nearly as thin as the six sisters, taking so little care of themselves that their clothes were almost as ragged and tattered as the clothes of the six brothers. Then the mothers and the fathers of the village said that they must do something about the miller's daughter if they didn't want all their sons to fade away, and all their daughters to have to leave home to look for their husbands and never come back.

Then, one day, the big white bear who lived to the north, and who would sometimes exchange a tasty salmon for a pint of beer, came to the miller, and said to him, "Miller, if you will give me your youngest daughter, I will make you rich."

Well, the Miller loved his youngest daughter, and indeed, she was his favourite, but he loved his other children too, so when he thought about how thin his daughters were, and about how ragged were the clothes of his sons, he came to a decision. He went to talk to his daughter, and he said to her, "Listen, my love, the great white bear has asked for your hand. If you accept, we will be rich, and your brothers and your sisters will be able to buy some new clothes, and will eat enough to stop the wind from knocking them down. The bear is a handsome enough beast, and he is always very courteous when he comes here to barter his salmon. I've no doubt he will make a fine husband for you, even though he is a bit furry."

The daughter listened to her father, and she thought about it. It didn't seem right for a girl to be marrying a bear, even though he might be rich, and even though he might be well-behaved. So she told her father she would not give her hand to her strange suitor. The miller shrugged and turned away.

That night, it was as cold as cold could be, so cold that a man could not cry, for his eyes would freeze up, and the icicles shone in the trees like a million stars. The youngest son of all had to creep out of the house in the middle of the night to go to the loo; he had nothing to wear because his brothers had all the clothes, and in the morning, the miller found him shining like a block of ice and looking at him with a cold, cold, smile. So he went to his daughter and he said to her; "Listen, my love, you can see how hard it is for us all. We have not enough clothes to put on our backs, and your dear brother has been frozen to a block. If you will give your hand to the great white bear, we'll be able to buy fur coats for all the family, and we'll never freeze again."

The daughter listened to her father, and she thought about it. It still didn't seem right for a girl to be marrying a bear, however rich and courteous he may be, and so, although she was very sorry for her brother, she told her father that she could not give her hand to her strange suitor. The miller shrugged and turned away.

That night, the wind blew as hard as ever the wind had blown, and perhaps even harder than that; it rattled the windows, it knocked at the doors and it almost blew the heavy slate roof off the mill. Now, the eldest sister, who was out in the woods gathering fire-wood so that they would be warm that night, was so light and thin that she was picked up and swept into the air ; the last the miller saw of her, with her skirt spread out against the sky, she had joined the storm-birds up amongst the blackest clouds. So when he saw that, he went to his youngest daughter, and he said to her; "Listen, my love, it is not that much that I am asking of you. We have not enough food to put in our bellies, and your dear sister has been blown away with the storm birds. If you were to give your hand to the great white bear, we would be able to buy meat and bread for the family, and walk upon the ground even when the wind is blowing at its strongest."

The daughter listened to her father, and she thought about it. It still didn't seem right for a girl to be marrying a bear, however rich and courteous he might be, but she was very sorry for her brother, and she was very sorry for her sister, and to see her poor father so pained by what had happened to his children pulled at her heart. So she told him to let the bear know that she would marry him as soon as he wanted.

The wedding was quite an affair, and the mayor gave a long speech that no one listened to, and the young men felt that their hearts were gong to break forever; the young women (although they were extremely polite about it) were very pleased at the thought that the miller's daughter was leaving, as were the fathers and the mothers of the village. The bear danced with each of the sisters, and as he danced, the sisters seemed to fill out and get a little plumper. Then he danced with the brothers, and as he danced, it seemed that their clothes became as good as new. And when all had danced and eaten and drunk until they could dance, eat and drink no more, the bear summoned his carriage, and handed the youngest daughter into it, climbed up beside her and told his coachman to take them home.

The bear's home was a great castle, surrounded by a beautiful garden full of the most colourful of flowers. There were tulips, and daffodils, roses and hollyhocks as well as chrysanthemums, lupins and tiger-lilies. Inside the castle, there were long corridors, and large rooms with high ceilings and broad windows letting in the light. The bear showed her to her room, and then disappeared. The young woman sat at her dressing table and looked into her mirror; she saw the same face that she had always seen, and the same black hair and the same black eyes, but she felt that she would never be the same again.

Night came in upon the castle, and finally, she dressed herself in her bridal gown, blew out the candles and went to bed. She waited, a little frightened, for she believed that the bear, as any husband would, was coming to join her. Indeed, after a while, when the night was as black as night could be, someone slipped into the bed beside her. She reached out, expecting to feel the furry hide of her new husband, but instead, she found a man, with skin as smooth as silk. And so it happened that every day she spent alone in the castle, walking through the rooms, or leafing through the books in the library, and every night, she went to bed and she would be joined by her husband, the man with skin as smooth as silk. For somehow she knew that her husband was a bear by day and a man by night.

Now, although the nights, in the arms of her husband, were all she could wish for, the days, when she saw no-one, and spoke to no-one, were long and deadly, so one night she said to her husband, "Listen, my love, you must let me return to see my father, and my brothers and sisters, and to find out how they are getting along, for I have a great need of company. Remember, I have always had so many brothers and sisters that I am not used to being alone."

Her husband sighed, and he said to his wife, "My love, I expected you to ask for this, but it does not make my heart any the less heavy. I cannot refuse you, for I love you, but I must tell you that by going to visit your family you put me in great danger. So you must listen to me carefully. You may go and visit your father and your brothers and your sisters for three days and for two nights, but you must promise me not spend any time alone with your sister Elena, even though I know she is your greatest friend. For if you do, only harm may come of it."

Well, she had become quite fond of her husband, and so she made the promise that he asked of her, and set off to see her family in their new mansion. She found them as happy as they could be, for they had lost two sisters, and one brother was still standing, a block of ice, outside the old mill. All of them were thrilled to see her, and they came running out to greet her. Her brothers were all dressed in the finest and the warmest clothing that money could buy, and her sisters had all filled out, and were almost as beautiful as she. She spent the first day and the first night with them, playing the old games together, and chattering and dancing as if it were Christmas or somebody's birthday. However, she remembered not to allow Elena to take her aside and have one of those long sisterly chats that had been their delight before her marriage, and this although she saw that it pained her sister.

The second day and the second night, the fun and the happiness seemed to go on just as before, but it became harder and harder to avoid her sister, and harder and harder to avoid the pain in her sister's eyes. Just before they went to bed, Elena approached her, and said; "Listen, my beloved sister, it seems that your new estate has made you forget what once we were the one to the other, and you have forgotten the hours that we would spend, pouring out the depths of our hearts to one another. And you have forgotten the promise that we made so long ago, that we would always tell each other of our troubles and of our fortunes. But, oh my sister, I have not forgotten, and never would I do such a thing!'

The young wife went to her bed that night with a clouded mind. She thought of what her sister had said to her, and she thought of what her husband had said to her, and she thought of the promise that she had made to her husband, and she thought of the promise that she had made to her sister, and she said to herself; "It is true that I made a promise to my husband, but it is also true that I made a promise to my sister, even though it was a long time ago, and I had forgotten it. Is a promise to a husband stronger than a promise to a sister? Is a promise made long ago when I was a child more binding than a promise that I made but yesterday? Is it right that my husband should ask me to break my word to my sister? And is it right that my sister should ask me to break my word to my husband?" And she thought on these things all through the night.

When she awoke, all her brothers and her sisters were waiting for her, for all knew that it was their last day together. But Elena remained apart, her eyes to the ground, her hands falling from her lap, and she would not look at her sister, and she would not smile. Thus the morning went. In the afternoon, the eldest brother took out his fiddle, and the second eldest sister sat at the piano, and they played while the others danced and sang, yet Elena sat apart, and her eyes were on the ground, her hands were falling from her lap, and she would not look at her sister.

And as the shadows drew in to announce the end of the day and the beginning of the evening, the young wife's heart felt that it would break, so she drew her sister to one side, taking her back to the old mill, into the bedroom that they had shared for so long, and she said; "Listen, my beloved sister, do not look down upon the ground, but look into my eyes. For even though I made a promise to my husband that I would not speak alone with you, you see that my promise to you is the stronger." Then she told her sister all that there was to tell her about her new life, and about the man that would come to her bed when the night was as black as night could be, and whom she had never seen. Her sister listened, then she pondered, and then she said; "Listen, my beloved sister, it is not right that a wife should never see her husband. You must take with you this candle, and these matches, and this night, when your man is sleeping, light the candle to look upon the face of the man you have married, for a man he must be, even though you only ever see the white bear by light of day."

The young wife took the candles and she took the matches, putting them in her pocket and promising her sister that she would think of what she had said. Barely ten minutes later, the white bear's carriage came to collect the bride, and the white bear was in it, waiting for his young wife. When she mounted and sat beside him, he looked into her eyes, and then he glanced at her pocket, and he said; "Listen, my beloved, you must take care. For I do believe that you have spoken to your sister alone, and I do believe that she has said things to you that were better not to have been said." The young woman saw that her husband had read her like an open book, and so she did not try to conceal her fault, if fault there had been.

Then the bear said to her; "Listen, my beloved, if you truly love me, you will not follow the advice that your sister has given you, for if you do, only harm shall come of it." The girl promised to obey her husband, but that night, after the man beside her had fallen asleep, she heard her sister's voice inside her head, insisting that it was not right that a woman should never see her husband's face. The more she heard the voice, the more it seemed that what the voice said was true, until she could bear it no more. She rose, and pulled the candle and the matches from her pocket. With trembling fingers, she lit the candle, and held it over the form of the man who shared her bed.

There, revealed to her gaze was a young man of such beauty that her breath left her body. He had hair as black as her own, thick and lustrous. He had the stern and noble nose of an eagle, the firm, wide brow of the owl, the firm chin of a prince and the soft, red mouth of a young girl. Her heart turned over within her, and, unable to prevent herself, she bent to set one kiss upon his lips. But as she did so, her hand wavered, and three drops of wax spilled from the candle, to fall upon the young man's nightgown. Before her lips could press to his, his eyes opened, and he awoke. He drew back from her, and then his eyes locked upon hers.

If her eyes were black as the night, then his were the blue of a winter sky, and as she looked into them, she felt that she could feel the cold, cold wind upon her face. Then she felt his hands upon her shoulders, though whether they were the hands of the young man, or the heavy paws of her daytime husband, she could not be certain. His mouth opened, and whether she saw the white, even teeth of the young man, or the yellow fangs of her daytime husband, she could not be sure. He spoke, and whether it was the sweet voice of her nighttime companion, or the low, patient growl of her daytime husband she could not be positive. There was love in his voice that made her tremble for joy, and there was anger in his voice that made her tremble for fear. There was sorrow in his voice that made her tremble in sympathy, and there was hope in his voice that made her tremble in expectation.

He said; "Listen, my love, my wife. In another three days, if you had not seen my human face, the enchantment would have been broken, and I would have been yours for ever. But now, I must leave you, and go far, far from here, to be married to the witch's daughter. If you love me, you can still save me, but I may tell you no more than that you will find me in the castle that lies to the east of the moon and to the west of the sun. And, oh, my beloved, it is so very far from here, and it is so very difficult to find, that I fear for you, and I fear for me, for if you do not save me, then what life will I live for the rest of my days? Now, kiss me one last time, before I go, and then I shall leave you."

The young woman looked, and she saw that where the young man had been, there was only the white bear, with his heavy paws upon her shoulders, and his yellow fangs glinting at her in the light of the candle. She knew that it was her husband, and she leaned forward, and kissed him upon the muzzle, upon which he dropped his paws from her shoulders and shuffled slowly out of the room. She blew out the candle, and lay back upon the bed. A heavy cloud seemed to descend upon her, and she drifted into sleep.

The next morning, she awoke, cold and shivering. The castle was gone; she found that she had been sleeping upon a pile of damp leaves, beneath a tall tree. In the branches of the tree, sat a small, gaily coloured bird, looking at her with its head on one side. When the bird saw that she was awake, it gave a loud shriek and flew off, alighting upon another tree some distance away. Then it looked back at her, as if waiting for her to follow. She rose to her feet, and, not knowing what else she could do to find the castle east of the moon and west of the sun, she walked towards the bird. As she approached the second, tree, the bird gave another shriek, and flew off a little further, stopping once again to look back at the white bear's bride.

Proceeding in this way, she followed the bird through the forest, until they came to a small wood cabin, beneath a walnut tree. Sitting at the door of the cabin, was an old old woman, with three teeth in her head and an old pipe jammed between them. The bird alighted upon her shoulder, and watched as the young woman approached. The old woman looked up at her, took the pipe from between her teeth and blew out a rank smelling ring of smoke. Then she cackled, then she winked, and then she stood up and curtsied. "Ah," she cried, "so here's the silly princess who couldn't hold on to her prince! But tell me now, are you sure you want him back again? For to be sure, if you're silly, then he's a fool or else he never would have got you both into this pickle.'

The white bear's wife thought for a moment, considering the truth and the consequences of what the old woman had said. Then she answered; 'It is true that, if I had known then what I know now, I might not have done what I have done. And it is true that if my husband had not done as he has done, then he might not be where he is now. But ifs are made of candy-floss and might bes are made of moonshine; all I want now is to know the road to the castle that lies east of the moon and west of the sun, so that I can go and get him back again, for if he is a fool, he is my fool, and if I am silly, then it is with him that my silliness is most at ease. Please, can you tell me the way?"

Well, the old woman cackled again, but in a more friendly tone, this time. 'Ah, my dear," she said; "you may have a little more sense than I gave you credit for. Now, I do not know where this castle is, but if you go and ask my elder sister, she may be able to help you. All you have to do is to follow the bird, for he knows the way." With that, the old woman turned into her cabin, and cooked up a bowl of porridge, to help the young wife on her way. After they both had eaten, the young wife rose to her feet, and thanked her hostess, making ready to be on her way. However, the old woman laid one hand upon her sleeve, and with the other, reached up into the walnut tree and plucked a single nut. Then she said; "Here, my love. You must take this as a gift from me. Keep it by you, and do not open it until you come to the castle east of the moon and west of the sun, for there you may find that you need it." The young wife thanked her, took the nut, and put it in her pocket. Then she heard the little bird screech, and turned to follow him out into the forest.

She wandered for many days through the forest, eating nuts and berries, and sleeping under the trees. Ever she would follow the bird, as it flitted from tree to tree, until at last they came to a second cabin, that looked very much like the first, except that it was even older and more decrepit. Sitting on a stool outside the door was a woman who looked to be even older than the first, with two teeth in her head, and a pipe jammed between them. Once again, the bird alighted on her shoulders, and once again, the old woman took the pipe from between her teeth, and blew out a great stinking ring of smoke. Then she cackled, then she winked, then she stood up and curtsied. "Ah," she cried, "so here's the silly princess who couldn't hold on to her prince! But tell me now, are you sure you want him back again? For to be sure, if you're silly, then he's a fool or else he never would have got you both into this pickle.'

The white bear's bride had been thinking things over as she walked through the forest, but for the life of her, she could come up with no other answer than the one she had given to the crone's younger sister. So she repeated; 'It is true that, if I had known then what I know now, I might not have done what I have done. And it is true that if my husband had not done as he has done, then he might not be where he is now. But ifs are made of candy-floss and might bes are made of moonshine; all I want now is to know the road to the castle that lies east of the moon and west of the sun, so that I can go and get him back again, for if he is a fool, he is my fool, and if I am silly, then it is with him that my silliness is most at ease. Please, can you tell me the way?"

Once again, the old woman seemed to be satisfied with this reply, and like her sister, she offered the white bear's bride a meal. Then she told her that although she did not know the whereabouts of the castle that was east of the moon and west of the sun herself, her elder sister might, and that if the young woman would follow the little bird once again, he would take her to her sister's abode. "And now, ' she said, "before you go, there is a gift I would be giving you." And like her sister, she reached up into the walnut tree that grew beside her cabin, and took down one single walnut. "Here," she said, "keep this about your person, and do not open it until you come to the castle that is east of the moon and west of the sun, for then you may find that you have need of it." The white bear's wife thanked her, and set out once again to follow the bird through the forest.

As before, she wandered for days, eating nuts and berries, and sleeping under the trees, until she came to yet another ramshackle cabin, beneath a walnut tree. Sitting in the doorway was a woman who looked even older than her two sisters, and in her mouth there was nothing but the blackened stump of one tooth, and although she had no pipe, when the bird alighted on her shoulder, and she looked up to see who was approaching, she blew out a large stinking ring of smoke. Then she cackled, then she winked, then she stood up and curtsied. "Ah," she cried, "so here's the silly princess who couldn't hold on to her prince! But tell me now, are you certain that you want him back again? For to be sure, if you're silly, then he's a fool or else he never would have got you both into this pickle.'

Now the white bear's bride had been thinking this over as she wandered through the forest, but still she could find no other answer than the one that she had given to the first and to the second old crones, and so she replied; 'It is true that, if I had known then what I know now, I might not have done what I have done. And it is true that if my husband had not done as he has done, then he might not be where he is now. But ifs are made of candy-floss and might bes are made of moonshine; all I want now is to know the road to the castle that lies east of the moon and west of the sun, so that I can go and get him back again, for if he is a fool, he is my fool, and if I am silly, then it is with him that my silliness is most at ease. Please, can you tell me the way?"

The old woman looked at her, her head on one side, as if she were herself the bird that was perched upon her shoulder, and she said; "Is that the best you can come up with then? Well, you are young and you do not know the world as I know it, and there's no use in my telling you about it, because you would not believe me if I did. But tell me now, is it the bear that you love or the prince?" The white bear's bride had also been wondering about this as she made her way through the forest, so she did not take long to make up her mind to her reply; "Old lady, I love the man that is in the bear, and I love the bear that the man is in. I married them both, and I want them both, but if I can't have the one, then I shall take the other, for either would be better than the empty space that is in my heart while I am so far from him."

The old woman nodded, as if this was the answer that she had expected, and then she said "I cannot tell you where the castle itself is, but I can tell you that to find it, you must first go and ask the east wind. Now the bird will take you to the wind, but when you have found it, you must send the bird back to me, for otherwise, your quest will end in grief. Now sit down, while a cook you a meal, for you will be needing something inside your belly." So the young woman sat down, and the old woman cooked a meal, and when they had eaten, she reached up into the tree above the cabin and picked just one walnut, giving it to the white bear's bride and warning her not to lose it, or to open it until she should come to the castle that lay east of the moon and west of the sun.

So the white bear's bride set out once again, following the little bird as it flew from tree to tree, eating nuts and berries, and sleeping under the trees, until she came to the very end of the world. And there she spied the east wind, so she waved a last good-bye to the bird, and went and sat upon a rock and waited for the wind to notice her. At last, the wind, which had been busy blowing the leaves off tress and fluffing up the crests of the waves, turned to her and asked her what she was doing, waiting upon a rock in this wild and lonely place. So she told him all her story, from the very beginning, and then asked him if he knew where the castle was that was east of the moon and west of the sun.

The east wind thought about this for a while, and then he said; "It is lucky for you, young woman, that I know your sister, for it was I that carried her away that day, and she told me of the proud beauty that would not marry the white bear, even though her brothers were dying of cold, and her sisters were wasting to nothing in front of her eyes. She was glad to come with me, and to take the burden off your father's back a little, even though she regretted not having the time to say good-bye. But now, I suppose you are not so proud as you were then, and for your sister's sake I will take you, for I loved her well. So hop on my back, and I will take you to my brother, the west wind, for he may know where your castle is to be found."

The white bear's wife answered nothing, for she was a little ashamed of herself when she remembered the pride that had been hers before the bear took her to be his bride. She climbed upon the east wind's back, and away they soared, across the seas and across the lands, until they came to the end of the world. There the east wind let her climb off his back, and she thanked him for his kindness, and then perched herself upon a rock until the west wind should notice her, for he was busy rattling the eaves and the shutters of the houses, and blowing up waves upon the ocean. But finally, he looked down and saw her there, and asked her what her business was and why she was waiting upon a rock in this cold and lonely place.

So the young woman told her story, from the beginning to the end, and then she asked him if he knew where the castle was, that lay east of the moon and west of the sun. Well, the west wind pondered for a moment, and then he said; "It is lucky for you that I know your sister, for my brother, the east wind brought her to me, because, although he loved her well, he could not bring a smile to her poor sad face. She told me how it was that you were too proud to take the white bear to be your husband, even though your brothers were dying of cold and your sisters were wasting away to nothing in front of your eyes. I suppose that you are not so proud now as you were then, and for your sister's sake, because I loved her well, I will take you to my brother, the south wind, who may indeed know where the castle is that you seek. Climb onto my back, and we shall be off."

Now, once again, the white bear's wife answered nothing, for she was indeed ashamed when she thought of the sad life that her sister must be living. On the back of the west wind, she travelled over the oceans and over the continents, until she came to the end of the world, where the wind set her down. She thanked him, then sat upon a rock waiting for the south wind to notice her, for he was busy blowing sandstorms up in the desert and cracking the wild waves against the tumbling cliffs. But after a while, he looked down, and when he saw her, he asked her what she was doing, waiting in such a bleak and desolate place.

Once again, the white bear's wife told her story; the wind pondered for a moment, and then he said ; "It is lucky for you that I know your sister, for my brother, the west wind brought her to me, because, although he loved her well, he could not bring a smile to her poor sad face. She told me how it was that you were too proud to take the white bear to be your husband, even though your brothers were dying of cold and your sisters were wasting away to nothing in front of your eyes. I suppose that you are not so proud now as you were then, and for your sister's sake, because I loved her well, I will take you to my brother, the north wind, who may indeed know where the castle is that you seek. Climb onto my back, and we shall be off."

Well, what could the young woman say. she hung her head, thinking of the hard life that her sister must be leading, and wishing that she had done many things that she had not done, and that she had not done many things that she had done. Nevertheless, she climbed upon the back of the South wind, travelling over oceans and continents, until once again, she came to the end of the world. She looked around her, to see that she was surrounded by cold and icy mountains and that icicles hung from the very clouds. After thanking the South wind for his kindness, she stood upon the freezing rocks, and waited for the North wind to finish blowing the roofs off houses, and battering ships to their graves in the wild wild sea. Finally, he noticed her, and stopped what he was doing for a moment, giving some respite to the shivering householders and the terrified mariners. Once again, she explained her errand, telling her story from beginning to end. The North wind listened, and then he let out a short laugh, which emerged as an icy breeze which froze the air around her head and turned her ears first pink and then blue.

"Well," he said, "I have a surprise for you. Step upon my back and meet my wife, for I think you know her!" Well, of course, who should the wife of the North wind be but the long lost sister. She greeted the white bear's bride joyfully, and said that she should take no notice of what the east wind, the west wind and the south wind had said about her, for it was indeed a strange thing to ask of a young girl to marry a bear. Moreover, if the bear's bride had married the bear straight away, then she, the wife of the North wind, would never have met her husband, so really all was well that ended well. Then she told her that her husband did know where the castle was that was east of the moon and west of the moon, for, she said proudly, he was the strongest of the four winds, and he had been over the whole world, from one corner to the other.

So the North wind flexed his mighty muscles, and carried the two sisters across the oceans and across the continents, and as they flew, his wife told her sister that they had been to the very castle to which he was taking her not long ago. There was a beautiful young prince there, with hair as black as the night, the nose of an eagle and eyes so blue that they looked like the winter sky. He lived in the castle with an old lady, who some believed to be an ogress, and her daughter; very soon, he was to marry the daughter. When the white bear's wife heard this, she knew that she would need all her courage and all her wits if she was to win her husband back again. She felt in her pocket, and she found the three walnuts and she gripped them tight in her hands.

At last, they arrived at a long, golden beach, and above the beach there was a tall, golden castle, with spires that seemed to reach to the very sky. The wind set his wife and his sister down upon the sand, and then said that he would return for them whenever his wife should call, but that now he was very busy, for there were houses to destroy, ships to sink and cliffs to crumble into the sea. With that, he was off, howling across the oceans and the continents, and his wife watched him on his way with a fond smile and the trace of a tear about her eye.

"Now," she said, "I will give you all the help that I can, for I have been given certain powers by my husband. I can float upon the air, and waft wherever I will, and I am so thin, that if I do not wish to be seen, then I will not. But in the main, this is your task, and you must do it as you see fit."

It was evening time, and the sky was full of stars. The white bear's wife sat beneath the castle walls, and she thought and she listened. After a while, she heard a voice, and she looked up. A young woman was sitting at a window, looking out over the sea, and as she gazed at the waves, she sang a song.

In three short days, 'tis my wedding day By the stars that shine on the sea. If I had a gown made of those stars Then I know my love would love me

The white bear's wife picked one of the walnuts from her pocket and looked at it thoughtfully. Then she closed her eyes tight, and sent her thoughts and her mind winging back the way she had come, upon the backs of the winds and following the bird through the forest, back to the third cabin, with the oldest woman with only one tooth, and then back to the second cabin, where the old woman had two teeth, and then back again to the first cabin in which lived the old woman with the three teeth, and she looked down upon the woman, who looked back up at her, and winked one eye, and cackled and curtsied, just as she had done on the day that first she saw her. Then the young woman opened the first walnut, reached into it and slowly teased out a gown of finest cotton, the colours of which shimmered like the stars in the sky, and it was full of the light of the stars. She put the dress on, and it fit her as if it had been made for her, which, of course, it had, and then she walked upon the sand, and she walked in the full view of the young woman who was sitting in the window.

"Who are you, that walk thus upon the sands in the light of the stars?" called down the young woman. The bear's wife looked up and saw a face the beauty of which mirrored her own, but while she was dark, the other was fair, and while her face was an open book, the face of the other was a closed mystery. She called up to the face at the window, "I heard your song, and thought that you would wish to see the dress."

"Give it to me," said the girl at the window, "for I am to be married to the most beautiful man in the world, and I would wear that gown for my wedding day."

"I will give it to you, if you will let me pass the night with your husband to be."

The fair woman in the window laughed, and said to her, "Come on up. I will go to him and tell him to expect you." But while the bear's wife was hurrying up towards the castle, and waiting for the gate to open, the bride-to-be went to her fiancé with a cup full of wine, and told him that it was a nightcap, to help him sleep through the night before the night before the night before the night they would be wed. The prince took, the cup, and drank the wine, and soon it was clear that the fair girl had said nothing but the truth, for he fell into a deep sleep. So when the bear's wife had given the gown that was the colour of the stars to her rival, and entered the room, she found that she could not wake her husband, or speak to him to remind him of the things he had forgotten. So she kissed him once upon his red red lips, and lay down beside him, to spend a last night with the man who had been the white bear.

In the morning, she left the castle, and went to find her sister, who was blowing ripples upon the water as it washed up upon the sand. "Listen, my beloved sister," said the North wind's wife, "I suspect that the young woman and her mother are up to some tricks. I will see what I can see." Light as a leaf upon the autumn wind, the young woman rose up in the air, and wafted over the castle, turning herself this way and that, so that anyone who might have looked in her direction could never be sure of what he saw. She floated down into the castle, and crept through the many chambers, until she came to an inner bedroom, where the fair young woman was talking to her mother.

The mother was tall, and slender, and as beautiful as her daughter, but her hair was the colour of flame, and her eyes were as green as emeralds. There was danger for all but the boldest men in the tilt of her chin, and in her smile there was a threat and a promise. "Well, my daughter," she was saying, "I hope you know what you are doing, for you know as well as I do who this young woman is."

"Yes mother," the daughter answered, "but with the magic that we have woven around him, he has forgotten all about her."

"Ah," said her mother, "that is easy, for what man will not forget an old flame when he has two new ones, each as beautiful as we are. But if he sees her again, he will remember, and if he remembers, you will surely lose him, for she wants him far more than you do, and she will fight the harder."

"Mother, he did not see her, and he could not see her, for I gave him a drink that made him sleep the whole night through. Tonight I shall give him another, and the night after that, I shall give him yet another. Then it will be our wedding day, and he will be mine."

Then the North wind's wife slipped out of the castle, and went to tell her sister all that she had heard. The bear's wife sat by the shore, and she lost herself in thought. The night fell, and this night there were no stars, for the moon was as full as a moon can be, and shone upon the sea, the sand and upon the castle. After a while, the bear's wife heard a voice, coming from the castle, and she looked up, and she saw her rival, sitting at the window again, and singing a song

In two short days, 'tis my wedding day By the moon that shines on the sea If I had a gown made of the light of the moon Then I know my love would love me

Once again, the bear's wife reached into her pocket, and took out the second walnut. Then she closed her eyes tight, and sent her thoughts and her mind winging back the way she had come, upon the backs of the winds and following the bird through the forest, back to the third cabin, with the oldest woman with only one tooth, and then back to the second cabin, where the old woman had two teeth, and she looked down upon the woman, who looked back up at her, and winked one eye, and cackled and curtsied, just as she had done on the day that first she saw her. Then the young woman opened the second walnut, reached into it and slowly teased out a gown of finest satin, the colours of which shimmered like the moon in the sky, and it was full of the light of the moon. She put the dress on, and it fit her as if it had been made for her, which, of course, it had, and then she walked upon the sand, and she walked in the full view of the young woman who was sitting in the window.

"Who are you, that walk thus upon the sands in the light of the stars?" called down the young woman.

The bear's wife looked up and called to the face at the window, "I heard your song, and thought that you would wish to see the dress."

"Give it to me," said the girl at the window, "for I am to be married to the most beautiful man in the world, and I would wear that gown for my wedding day."

"I will give it to you, if you will let me pass a second night with your husband to be."

The fair woman in the window laughed, and said to her, "Come on up. I will go to him and tell him to expect you."

But as before, while the bear's wife was hurrying up towards the castle, and waiting for the gate to open, the bride-to-be went to fetch her fiancé a cup full of wine. The North wind's wife intending to forewarn the prince, floated up into the air, but just as she crossed the battlements, the fiancées mother saw her, and with a laugh blew her back over the sea, twisting and turning like a leaf in an autumn gale. The young woman brought the wine to the prince and told him that it was a nightcap, to help him sleep through the night before the night before the night they would be wed. The prince took, the cup, and drank the wine, and soon it was clear that the fair girl had said nothing but the truth, for he fell into a deep sleep. So when the bear's wife had given the gown that was the colour of the moon to her rival, and entered the room, she found that she could not wake her husband, or speak to him to remind him of the things he had forgotten. So she kissed him once upon his red red lips, and lay down beside him, to spend a last night with the man who had been the white bear. In the morning, she found her sister sitting by the sea, blowing the water into angry wavelets.

"Ah, said the North wind's wife, "I have not been with my dear husband long enough to learn how to command the breezes and the bluster, for if I had, that woman would never have had the better of me, and I would have warned your husband not to drink the wine. And now, through my foolishness and vanity, you have lost him forever."

"Sister, dear sister, listen to me," said the white bear's bride. "We should never give up until we are sure we have truly lost. I will not abandon hope before I have seen them in each others arms on their wedding night, and I know that he has truly, truly forgotten me. For remember what the red-headed witch said.? If ever he should see me, he is mine."

So the two sisters waited through the long long day. The sun was close to the horizon, blood red and golden, when the bear's wife heard her rival's voice again. Once more she was singing a song :

In two short days, 'tis my wedding day By the sun that shines on the sea If I had a gown made of the light of the sun Then I know my love would love me.

The white bear's wife smiled to herself, and this time she was sure of what she must do. She plunged her hand into her pocket, and pulled out the last walnut. Without pausing to think, or to send her mind and her thoughts back to the third old woman, she cracked open the nut, and drew out, inch by inch, the most beautiful gown that has ever been seen upon the face of the earth. It was of the finest Chinese silk, and it held the colours of the setting sun in every stitch. She put the gown on, and it fitted her as if it had been made for her, which it had, and she danced upon the sand, the light of the sun and the light of her dress reflecting back the one from the other, until the waves of the sea did not know from where they should be sending their sparkling iridescence. As she danced, the bear's wife heard a gasp from the window, and she looked up to see her rival looking down at her with envy in her eyes. Neither of them spoke, for each knew what the other wanted. Dancing slowly across the sand, the white bear's wife made towards the castle gate.

Her sister, seeing what was happening, opened up her heart, and silently called to her husband. Then she turned towards the castle, floating up into the air like a feather rising in the heat. As she drew over the battlements, she saw that the red-headed woman was waiting for her, but this time, as the witch puffed up her cheeks, the wild North-wind caught her by her heavy skirts and sent her billowing into the sky. She turned to grapple with him, and witch and wind were carried, struggling the one with the other, over the stormy sea. Turning her back upon the sight, the North wind's wife floated through the castle's corridors, until she came to the prince's room. There she did not make herself visible, but whispered her message in his ear, barely seconds before the fair young woman entered with her nightly potion.

"Take this," she said, ' and it will help you to sleep through the night before the night that we are wed."

He smiled, and thanked her, but he heard a small voice that seemed to come from inside his head, warning him not to take the offered drink. As soon as his betrothed's back was turned, he tipped the contents of the cup out of the window, and lay upon the bed to see what would be. Some ten minutes later, after giving the gown the colour of the sun to her rival, the white bear's wife slipped into his room, and then into his bed. You can imagine her joy when she discovered that her husband was awake. As for him, no sooner did he see her face above his own, as she leaned to kiss him once again upon his red red lips, than the spell of forgetfulness fell from his mind, and he recognized his proud and wilful wife.

The next day, the fair young woman woke to find her mother gone. This did not prevent her from going ahead with the wedding preparations, for she was determined that today she would be married. She chivvied the kitchen staff, she berated the waiters, she pestered the priest until the hour came when the great bell struck, and her prince walked from his chamber into the court-yard of the castle. At the very same moment, the North wind, somewhat out of breath, but looking very pleased with himself, deposited the bride's mother, looking a little flustered but with a merry eye, on the castle battlements. The prince looked at his bride-to-be, and looked at his mother-in-law to be, and they were so beautiful, that for a moment, he forgot his resolve, but as he glanced once more towards his wife, his spirits cleared, and he stepped forward, holding in his arms a folded nightgown.

"Listen, my dear ladies," he said, "if I am to be married, I wish to be sure that I will have a good wife. Therefore, I will give my hand to no woman who cannot wash the three drops of wax from off this nightgown." The bride-to-be looked at her mother, who flicked a contemptuous eye-brow. The young woman turned towards the prince, and looked him in the eye. "If you think," she said, "that I would marry a prince so as to do his washing, you had better think again." Then she shrugged her shoulders and turned away, biting her lip, because, after all, he was such a very pretty young man.

The prince turned towards the dark young woman, who stepped forward in her turn, looking up at the fair one's mother, who flicked her eye-brow yet again and pursed her lips. "If you think," said the dark one, "that I would marry a white bear so as to do his washing, you had better think again." The prince looked abashed, and stepped back. "However," she continued, "I do recognize those three drops of wax as my own doing, and so I will not refuse to wash them from your nightgown.' And she took it from his hands, and held it up to the light. "But you can damn well iron it yourself," she murmured, so that only he could hear.

With that, she walked from the castle, down to the sea and lay the nightgown in the waves. She took three walnut shells from her pocket, and scraped the wax away from the gown, shook it out and the North wind carried it up far into the air, where the heat of the sun dried it out. The wind returned it to his sister-in-law, who gave it to her husband, and so as not to waste the wedding feast, they got married all over again.

The next day, the north wind took his wife, and her sister, and her husband upon his back, and carried them back to the miller's house. The wind had given a rendezvous to his brothers there, and the south wind, which was warm and dry after a trip across the desert, thawed out the frozen brother, who was overjoyed to be returned to his brothers and his sisters. And three of the sisters married the South wind, the West wind and the East wind, while the sixth stayed home and looked after her father, and played havoc with the hearts of the young men of the village, until the mothers and fathers wished that another bear would come and take her away as well. As for the sons, they married the fair young woman in the castle east of the moon and west of the sun, and a hard but merry time of it she gave them.

As for the red-headed witch, well, I do believe that whenever the North wind had it in mind to take a change from his wise, but rather leafy wife, he would off and romp with her for a day or two, for they had come to something of an understanding during their tussle for the prince's heart. As to the bird and the three old women, I don't know what happened to them, for they were never seen or heard of again. But sometimes, the red-headed witch opens wide her emerald green eyes, pouts her lips and blows out a perfect ring of foul-smelling smoke. And then she winks. But no-one has ever heard her cackle and I do not think that she curtsies to anyone.

[etoilesdephan]

The cauldron of life

Summary: When Dan was born, they knew he was different. Born into this world, but without emotion, he always felt different. Now, grown up and a master of magic and potions, he has made life in his little town and has been content. That is, until the day he comes across a potion that has a promise of making him finally feel. (Wizard AU)

Based on the prompt by @writing-prompt-s: You are born without emotions; to compensate this, you started a donation box where people could donate their unwanted emotions. You’ve lived a life filled with sadness, fear and regret until one day, someone donates happiness.

Read it on ao3!

Word count: 8.5k

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this, but since I wrote it all in one sitting (8h), it might seem a little off at some spots, pardon <3 I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

When he was born, it was instantly clear that something was not quite right.

He didn't cry, only writhed in what seemed discomfort, and the sound that came from his lips was only disgruntled blubber of a newborn. His eyes remained dry no matter what, though.

They examined him, used all the magic known to check his well-being, but found nothing wrong.

His mother loved him as it was.

Dan had everything that a child could wish for. Magical toys, a little fuzzy pet that would change its shape from day to day, comfortable bed and a little treat always waiting for him.

He was content.

When he grew more, and began to read, his shelves had been filled with books of the most amazing variety, where the pictures would move and the letters would shine, some even creating true recreations of the story on the paper. When he began to study, his surroundings were filled with the wonders of their magical world, the purple shiny mist above the cauldron almost constantly present. His little pet shapeshifter remained affectionately curled around Dan's shoulders as the child would begin to make his own brews.

He was there, always ready for more information, for more work. He never complained nor got frustrated when something didn't work out.

The kids he would study with a few times a week would isolate him because he didn't show their kind of curious excitement, nor did he ever really change that forever slightly smiling expression even when somebody told about a painful accident with their first magic.

And Dan couldn't understand why they would ever change away from that soft expression, and why would they push him away because of it. After all, his mum had always taught that smiling was good and only encouraged positivity.

She said it was a sign of friendliness and happiness.

When asked what happiness was, however, she'd been struck by a surprise and had tried very hard to explain it in a way that Dan could understand.

“You see, Bear, happiness is an emotion. It's a warm feeling that fills your chest when you see someone that is very important to you, a friend or family. It's the feeling when you get something that you have wanted for a long time. It's like how it feels when your tummy is filled with that tasty food that you have been dreaming of all day of. It's when you accomplish something good and someone smiles genuinely at you and you know that you have made someone else feel that same emotion.”

Dan had nodded along, as if he understood, his face still a light bow of lips and warm brown eyes, and his mother had kissed his forehead in a manner so familiar to him when she wasn't entirely sure what Dan was thinking of.

See, emotions was something that Dan didn't understand at all. He had read a lot, he had asked a lot, and had learned to categorise them in the good ones and bad ones to help him understand what others would think, what authors would try to explain in their novels, what would the appropriate reaction be if he knew how to feel them.

Since the day he was born, Dan had never felt what they called emotion.

Sometimes kids would say that he was an unfeeling shell, and he would know that what he should feel was anger and sadness though he felt no change in his body and mind.

He wasn't unfeeling. He knew to recognise when something was beautiful and when something was ugly. He understood when he was hurt, the scalding needles on his skin unpleasant and painful. He understood when a poke was friendly and even supposed to draw a laugh from him when it hit a certain spot on his side and tiny jitters would run through his body and make him want to flinch in a different way than when he was hurt.

He could feel the softness or his pet's fur and his mother's hair, her soft fingertips as they brushed over his cheek. He knew that some plants felt fragile underneath his touch and how others were sturdy and hard to break when he would collect them for the potions. He knew how it was to feel tired, exhausted even, after a long day. He knew the way that the world changed when the day was sunny after a row of those full of rain. He knew how the heart could beat faster after running when he had to chase down his pet again.

Dan grew, the world changed, but he never reacted to it the way that others did.

Though outcast from socialising most times outside work and small talk, Dan knew he stood in a good place in his life. People would come to his house almost every day, looking for a magical remedy, hidden behind the wax seal of the vial, they would ask for his knowledge in exchange for gold coins. Sometimes he'd even see strangers from far-away places, where his name had reached the people who sought out the fixes for their problems. Some would have short, very concrete requests, others would go on in long-winding explanations of what had brought them to his little cottage on the very edge of the town.

His curious purpose in his limbs never stopped either. He read, he memorised, he brewed day by day, until callouses began to cover his fingers.

“Stardust, that's not for you,” He picked the fluffy shapeshifter, now in the shape of a white cat, off the table where a new batch of herbs had been laid out for drying. It meowed before it began purring and the sound only increased when Dan rubbed between the creature's ears before he set it aside.

The cauldron was bubbling calmly when Dan settled into the armchair with a new book that he had picked up from a travelling merchant just days ago and flipped it open. Runes and pictures of plants were a little faded on the worn pages, but it never bothered Dan as he flipped the pages, one by one, absorbing the information etched into them. There were some potions he knew would be useful and sell well, there were others which were outdated and Dan knew improved versions of already.

The cauldron of life the title read, skimmed over just as casually as everything else in Dan's way, but he paused when he had passed the picture of the said cauldron and the paragraph began explaining the purpose of this magic.

Throughout the years, emotions have been the main reason for the rise and fall of nations, be it the size of the Roman Empire or the solidarity of two people.

Love has shown its softness, and jealousy and envy has shown how they can turn love sour. When chest burns with desire or aches with the loss and anger takes over, erasing the composure. When world gets too much and melancholy fills the head and the hands refuse to pick up the pen to respond to the letter of a friend because it would hurt too much to know - they are too far to reach. It's when joy turns arms and legs jittery and excitement makes you want to jump around, make your heart pump so much that the world seems brightest in the darkest of hour.

There are times, when it becomes too much. When it would be easier to set these feelings aside to deal with later, or let them sit in the shelf forgotten.

The cauldron of life is the exact solution for that. Take your wand or staff, dip it in this potion and pronounce the incantation. Keep the emotion in mind which is too much, allow the cauldron to absorb it. When times comes, just drink from the cauldron and you'll feel it once more.

Dan blinked at the words in front of him and the instructions for the potion.

He'd brewed joy before. He'd even tried to hide love behind the wax seal. He'd created peace and caused the deepest sadness. But throughout all of it he'd always known that it was merely an amplification of what someone already felt.

None of his potions worked on him because there'd been nothing to alter, to bring out or hide away in his soul. There was bluntness, calculating logic and more recipes hidden within him than he could probably list down, yet there hadn't been a hint of true feeling, nothing that made him see the world in the exact same colours as those he shared the town space with.

But as he read the description it dawned upon him; perhaps it was a chance for him. Perhaps by shedding away their feelings, he could take them from people. Perhaps there was a chance for him to finally experience the things he'd read volumes of thick books on.

His heart was peaceful, his expression - a blank note, as he pushed himself up from the seat and he began walking around the cottage, rummaging through his shelves and piling vials and wooden boxes on the remaining free surface of the table. Stardust's tail twitched, and Dan noted the curiosity in the green eyes of the shapeshifter “More work to do tonight after all. Perhaps I will feel what you feel soon, hm?” To that, Stardust meowed again and then shrunk into a little white mouse before disappearing between the rows of stacked books.

The night was long and the bubbles that rose from the small cauldron changed their colour with every ingredient added. Camomile made it a soft yellow, just like the centers of the little flowers. The beetle eyes made it a dark purple and shiny. A pinch of thyme made the orange mixture shimmer.

The steam rose from the cauldron in thin curls that swallowed up each new ingredient hungrily as soon as it touched them and Dan's dark eyes followed them, distracted, whenever he'd stir the potion.

Dan was sound asleep, the sun rays tickling his nose, when the sun began to rise.

=====

Some feelings too heavy on your chest? Feel free to leave them here. The little sign next to the door read and the cauldron of clear liquid that hung on a sturdy metal hook next to it shimmered whenever a light breeze got caught up in the depths of the dark metal pot. There was a small sign of instructions, just below the invitation.

Dan patted it, the same way he did with Stardust whenever he expected the creature to behave and retreated into the cottage.

The day was long, with some quick customers and a few that would stay around longer than necessary. Dan even had to swat one younger customer away from a shelf full with jars of ingredients, shoving the vial for his mother into the boy's hands and politely pushing him towards the door. In this time, he completely forgot about the cauldron.

It was only when he was turning the heavy door key when heading out to refill his pantry with food, was he reminded of the potion and he stood for a moment, wondering just how'd he forgotten about it before he looked into it.

The clear potion had turned dark, with wisps of black and grey mixing with an occasional gleam of blue.

Though unsure of what the colours meant, Dan subconsciously began to recite some poem he'd read in a book in his head, describing the hot crimson of love and flash red of anger, the green for those envious and the darkest shades of unhappiness. He continued through the lines of words in his mind as he traipsed into the town, where windows were filled with lights, where children were running around and laughing, where a young couple would giggle, foreheads pressed together as they sat on the porch of someone's parents' house. He watched them, as he always would and wondered how it felt and what it meant to feel like them.

Love was described as selfless, where'd one be willing to lay down their head for another. Childhood was always painted with brightness of endless joy and laughter. Home was also a feeling, they said, and often than not it was a person, not place.

He had always found it odd, these descriptions. A life was over if handed over to another, a childhood was for growing and learning, and it was a roof above the head that described the meaning of home for Dan. He couldn't imagine life differently.

“Ah Daniel, welcome!” A voice full of cheer greeted him when he pushed the door open to the local store, and he nodded towards the lady behind the counter who had just been talking to another man. The man, at the first glance, seemed to be a stranger, and with that notion, Dan turned to gather the groceries he'd came to get.

There were odd biscuits that he picked from the shelf, all shaped like bees and buzzing inside the container that they were packed away in. Food was always a thing he'd found himself understanding the emotions through, even if it had made others laugh when he'd attempted to explain it.

The sweetness was familiar and he knew that he liked it. He would compare the honey sweetness to positive emotions; they did say happiness was yellow. He'd eat the little bee biscuits and image that the taste was that same feeling his mother had told him about, that whenever he would accomplish something on the first go, he should bow his lips in a smile and treat himself with something pleasant.

Several other small containers and bags in his hands, he finally walked up to the shopkeeper and laid out the groceries without a word said, instantly reaching for the satchel of gold coins attached to his belt. Just as he usually would.

“Hello there, Daniel, was it?” A voice addressed him and he looked up to see the same stranger he'd noticed before, now standing there with a hand extended for a greeting handshake and blue eyes focused on Dan's face.

“Dan, please,” He corrected the stranger in the manner he'd grown used to doing after numerous times his mother had explained to him why it was important to talk to people, to return the polite greetings and to correct people with a pleasantry attached to the end to help him along.

“Pleasure, Dan! I'm Phil, recently relocated to this wonderful little town. It's such a lovely place and people seem so content and loving. I'm jealous of everyone who had the pleasure to be born here!” The man explained without really being asked, and Dan listened, quietly, the smile still on his face as he nodded at polite intervals to ensure that the man was being listened to.

“So what do you do, Dan?” Finally stopping to draw in a breath, the newly not-stranger questioned and his smile was so wide that Dan could note the laughter lines and little creases on the man's face, and he could only wonder how had they ended up there. His mother had always told him that some people would be creased with such lines, but they were the happiest people out there. Open and loving, always willing to share what they thought of things.

She'd clearly been right.

“I brew potions and remedies for those who need them,” Though his voice was soft, he could note the flatness in the tone and he cleared his throat and allowed himself to smile at the other man a little more before turning away and towards the shopkeeper who had just finished counting his groceries “There you go. Thank you for the business,” And though this phrase always earned him some funny looks outside his cottage, he merely collected the groceries and turned to Phil “Welcome to our little town,” He spoke, noting the way the other man was still watching him curiously.

The way back was quiet. His mind was idly raking over the memory of the new acquaintance and realising that he'd never returned the occupational question. There had been a clear indication of wanting to know more, to say more, in the other man's expression and Dan found himself thinking how long it would be until the two men would cross paths once more. The town, after all, was small. It was hard to not meet someone at least once every few days.

His thoughts were soon shelved similarly to the groceries in the pantry and he picked the cauldron from the hook, bringing it inside. The colour was still dark, reminding Dan of a potion he had to make once for healing someone's grandmother who had fallen ill in the autumn. Thankfully his potion had brought her out of bed in mere two days and back to full liveliness in four.

“Stardust?” He called out and a flutter of wings suddenly ceased right next to his head with a weight of a small white owl settling on his shoulder and hooting quietly. “Do you think this is going to work?” He questioned without expecting an answer and he scooped a bit of the potion into a metal cup, watching as the potion settled into the bottom of the dish without a single drop daring to spill. The cauldron cleared, meanwhile, the liquid returning to the shimmering see-through potion it had been before. He sent it back out with a murmur of incantation though his eyes were glued to the cup meanwhile, aware that the liquid was moving still, as if restless, in it.

Another hoot sounded next to his ear, quieter, somehow softer as he brought the cup to his lips, dark eyes surveying the shimmering, ever-changing liquid before he tipped the cup and let it slide down his throat, the bitter taste running across his tongue and making him shiver. It settled into his stomach, heavily, and remained there like a rock, and though there was some discomfort, Dan couldn't feel anything else. No difference. Nothing remotely like what he'd expected to feel. No epiphany.

“Must be a bust, again,” He spoke to Stardust as much as to himself and placed the cup down on the table, and instead picked up a book to read. Stardust made another soft hoot and with a flap of a wing against Dan's cheek, took off to settle somewhere on the top of one of the shelves.

The evening was quiet, his limbs were heavy, and though he was reading about a new set of potions, he felt his attention begin to drift.

He just shifted in the seat, searching for a more comfortable position to sit in, then - again. He felt his mind drifting away from the pages and thinking about what seemed like nothing. It was a heavy feeling that he hadn't realised had moved from his stomach to his chest cavity, and suddenly it was harder to breathe. He gasped a little and blinked, rubbing his face as he set the book aside and stood to crack open the window. It wouldn't be a first when all the scents of potions would mix in the air of the small cottage, making him feel a bit ill.

The cool breeze rolled in and across the skin, making the goosebumps appear on his arms and he curled onto the armchair, pulling a blanket off of the back of it and around himself as he returned to the book. Words morphed in front of his eyes and refused to stay coherent and he furrowed his brows a little, rubbed his eyes, trying to reason why tiredness felt so wrong this time around.

When water sprung to his eyes, he rubbed them again and set the book aside, pushing himself up to search for the kettle, ready to brew the tea his mother would always give him when first signs of cold would show themselves. His movements were slow, lethargic even, and his chest felt too heavy as he dropped the herbs into the cup to pour the boiling water over them. A familiar scent filled his nostrils soon and he understood that the remedy had been prepared correctly.

And the scent was familiar. It was one that made him remember his mother and thank her in his mind for the quick solution.

His mum, the one person that had taken it upon herself to always try to explain the world and ways to mend it to him in a way he would understand or could liken it to his understanding of the surroundings. The one that always offered him her affection and would take the time to ensure that he was well. The one who knew to ask the right questions that he could answer and the one that would sometimes not even need to ask them to know what he needed.

A wet droplet rolled down his cheek and landed onto the page of the book that he'd reopened once again once the tea had been prepared. He blinked and noticed his vision clear in exchange for several more wet lines running down his cheeks. He brought his hand up to rub at his cheeks, at his eyes, looking at the wetness and recognising tears.

He'd cried before, but it had been when he was young and had accidentally fallen and broken his arm and when pain had been too much that his body had willed him to expel the water from the tear ducts. He knew that he wasn't feeling pain though, that it would be hard to miss something so intense. There was only the weight in his chest, the scent of the tea and the thoughts of his mother who he'd lost when he'd been in the middle of his teen years.

The tears continued to fall and he could not find a rational explanation, mind jumping to having gotten some wrong fumes in his eyes, now burning his eyes; but there was no pain or itching.

Drop by drop and his vision was too blurry. The book had slid off his lap and onto the floor but he paid it no mind, hands wiping at his face until his sleeves were too damp to do any good and his eyes were starting to hurt. There was a dull headache somewhere beneath his brow and his throat was filling up, making his breaths raspy until a sharp breath willed itself out of his mouth in a soft sob.

After the first one, there came another and he bunched the blanket against his face when the sinking feeling in his chest grew, filling his lungs and his head and he had to lie down. He was exhausted, and the cool air was harassing his tear-streaked features too harshly.

It was somewhere along the night that his sobs had ceased and his limbs, exhausted, had curled themselves close. His breaths were quiet in his sleep.

=====

Morning arrived with a chill of the air from the open window and he cracked his eyes open with a faint groan. He hurt, he thirsted, he was still feeling too heavy. He couldn't entirely grasp his surroundings at first until he realised that there was a far too fuzzy white rabbit sitting on one of the book piles, staring at him, the nose twitching curiously when Dan finally pushed himself to sit up.

A knock on his door echoed a little too sharply inside his skull and he had to clear his throat again to speak up loud enough “One moment,” He grabbed the cold cup of tea and emptied it in one go, a faint twinge joining the heaviness in his chest when he noted that familiar scent again but it was gone before he realised and he rolled his sleeves up before opening the door.

“Morning, Daniel, I'm here for that potion you promised me last week,” The man by the door was a townsperson he recognised from the always-annoyed expression, but this expression suddenly faltered when he eyed the young potion brewer “Blimey, are you feeling alright?” Though the expression had changed, the tone had not and Dan merely nodded while motioning to the man to enter.

His feet felt heavy as he dragged them across the room and he nearly tripped when he tried to maneuver between the two crates in his way, only catching himself against the shelf and the jingle of dozens of glass vials brought him out from the small trance his mind had fallen into. He shook his head, ignoring the eyes on the back of his head and reached for the right potion. When he turned around, he was met with the mild concern that flashed in the other man's eyes momentarily “Three golds,” He handed the vial over as he usually would and ignored the small moment of hesitation before the man handed him the noted price.

It was a slow day, his body exhausted and he kept drinking cup after cup of water, trying to mend his body but there was a looming feeling that he couldn't place that made his hands shake and he didn't dare to try and set the kettle again. He found himself rearranging the vials, pushing them further off the edge, mind trying to rationalise why was he suddenly sure that they would be in danger of falling when they never had before. Only when he jumped at a knock, the realisation hit him, and they usually said one had to feel surprised, but at that moment his senses settled numb.

He'd read about the tears so many times, about that physical feeling in one's chest, about how mind could grow preoccupied with somebody close who had passed, about the way limbs would tremble and how the mind would race to assume the illogical. He'd read about them so many times that he had memorised them and yet, when they had occurred to him, he hadn't been able to.

Sadness and fear had been the things he'd never known, but as they soared inside his being, he felt how overwhelming the darkness, the bad could be. The things his mum said were not always bad, but no matter how she had explained them to him, he hadn't been able to see as any good.

Another knock sounded against the wooden door and Dan slowly made his way across the space of the small cottage to open it, trying to stop what he assumed fear to make such familiar situation suddenly frightening.

“Hello there, Dan!” A cheerful voice coming from just as cheerfully-expressional man greeted him and he eyed how the man's posture was leaning a little forward, hands crossed behind his back and how there was an unusually large amount of life in the blue eyes.

“Phil, welcome,” Dan greeted the man and stepped aside to let him enter. His mother had always asked before letting people in but he never had understood it and though there was a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind with thoughts that made no sense, Dan knew his power was beyond most in the town.

“So how may I help you? What brew you require?” The standard questions fell from his lips without a second thought and he stood there, watching the man whose hands were now plucking at the hem of his shirt. Dan recognised that action; too many of the first time customers were like that, or even more frequent ones if they were to buy an odd potion. “Nothing to worry about, I brew with confidentiality unless you're planning to partake in murder,” He added with as much of an ease as he usually would only to spot the man's cheek tint pink.

“I-uh, I actually don't…. Need? Any potions??” The man, clearly nervous and turning an increasing shade of pink, stammered out while looking at the tips of his shoes.

Dan was at loss; it wasn't exactly a very frequent occurrence that someone would knock on his door without needing anything.

“Would you like to sit down then?” He motioned to a chair and the man nearly jumped at that but nodded and took the seat on the little wooden chair that looked just as small beneath him as it usually did beneath Dan. Not many sported his height and there was a part of Dan wondering if there was any reason for that.

“I hope I'm not interfering?” The man, finally looking up and at Dan, frowned a little.

“Not at all, I don't have any withstanding orders currently,” Dan, suddenly realising that his expression was not one of a smile for once, quickly allowed his lips to bow into one again and noticed how Phil's face lit up with his own smile again as well. “Perhaps a cup of tea?” Unsure of how guests were to be treated, Dan settled on approaching Phil like he would the far-away travellers who'd come to find him specifically.

“Please?” Phil piqued with a growing smile and Dan merely nodded and started the kettle, hand hovering over the herbs for a moment, and he felt the tremble run through his fingers and the heaviness in his chest increase.

“Is everything alright?” The voice startled Dan a little and it was then that he realised that he'd been staring at the herbs longer than it had seemed and instantly he reached out to add the leaves into two cups and poured water over them, a hand waved with a under the breath murmur steadily floating one of the cups towards the visitor who gladly accepted it.

“I have been better,” He answered in his usual truthful manner while taking a seat as well, holding the cup in his hands as he looked at his visitor, not knowing what else to offer the barely not-stranger. “But so seem to have you,” He pointed out before Phil could open his mouth, a finger pointed towards the man's face and Phil brought a hand up to his cheek only to turn a little darker and breathe a laugh.

“I guess you can say that I have been better but have never been this amazing either,” The man laughed and took a sip of the tea only to jump when the scalding hot beverage hit his tongue.

Dan merely cocked his head at that “You're an odd one, Phil,” He commented and there was a twinge of what he identified as sadness, the same kind when he'd thought of his mother the previous night though no tears were burning his eyes. Carefully, he blew at the steaming cup and then sipped, allowing the warmth of the tea wash through the feeling in his chest.

He watched, as the silence dragged on, how Phil's eyes would dart around the room, observing the cauldron in the middle of the room, the numerous shelves of vials, jars and boxes, the herbs hanging from the ceiling, drying. He noted how they lingered longer on the books and the table where the fresher herbs still remained.

“Oh, you have a dog?” Phil suddenly broke the silence when a plump little pup stumbled out from between the maze of books and curiously sniffed in Phil's direction, the short white tail wagging excitedly. Phil, setting the cup aside, leaned forward, hand extended towards the small canine and soon enough Stardust licked at the man's fingers, allowing for a scratch behind the ear and Phil's voice rang with a fond chuckle at that “Aren't you adorable, little one,” Dan found himself fixated onto the scene and a sliver of fear tinted his usual casualness when Phil looked up and their eyes met. The man was smiling widely, openly, and Dan recognised the expression from his days of childhood, though he'd never known how to name it.

“Ah, well, you see,” Dan pulled his eyes away from the other man's face and looked at the little dog and clicked his tongue twice. Instantly the dog morphed into a white sparrow that shot up in the air only to settle on Dan's head “Stardust is a shapeshifter,” And somehow all the fearful traces settled into nothingness once more when faced with the mesmerised expression on other man's face.

“Amazing! I have never had the pleasure to see one with my own eyes!” Phil leaned back in his seat, still watching the sparrow before his eyes lowered and met Dan's once more and a smile overtook his features, wider than ever, and Dan had to wonder if it didn't hurt; after all, his own smiles had always been small, finding any more than that would be hard to maintain for long.

“Thank you,” The words rolled off his lips before he even knew what he was thanking Phil for, but the other man just regarded him softly and nodded, before turning to take another, tentative sip at the tea.

The time ticked away with each sound of a popping bubble in the slow simmering potion in the cauldron, and it was as if nothing more could make Phil satisfied with his visit, only an occasional question or two interrupting the silence. It was when the cups had been emptied that Phil finally stood and Dan mirrored the action, Stardust whizzing off to sit on the chain that hung from the ceiling where the cauldron was hung.

“Thank you for the tea, Dan,” The man thanked him and Dan nodded, extending his hand towards the other man, awaiting the goodbye though his breath had become heavy again and he had to swallow before he could speak up to respond.

“There's more where it came from,” He wrapped his fingers around the other man's palm and they shook, dark brown eyes and blue ones holding as steady of a contact as their digits before they released them.

“I'll see you around then, Dan,” Phil waved, once more regarding the potion master with a smile and Dan found himself choking on his breath a little once the door had been closed behind him.

=====

It was a week later that Dan next touched the small cauldron by his door, having taken his time to understand how to control the seemingly irrational feeling of fear that would visit him and the choking sensation that sadness brought upon along with the occasional tear that would escape his eye.

There were three bee biscuits buzzing inside the container on his table as he stared at them over the edge of his book, expression void of either of the two emotions he now knew. His heart beat too quickly; a side-effect of fear, he'd assumed after none of the usual medicines had done anything to help the sensation. He felt how the beat rate would increase when his mind zoned in on the cauldron, and how his fingers would tighten their hold on the book without Dan's conscious will for them to do so.

A low croak from the white frog settled on the arm of Dan's armchair finally pulled him out of his trance and he looked with at the little amphibian “Time to see what else is there,” Another croak was the only response and Dan took a deep breath, willing the tension to stop, willing his legs to move and take him just outside the cottage, cup in hand and to scoop up the much brighter potion up from the cauldron.

The red and green wisps kept tumbling over one another, the mixture almost turning into a brown sludge the longer Dan looked down at it. The door fell shut behind him and he regarded the cottage for a silent moment.

“Here goes...” He murmured to nobody but himself and threw his head back, pouring the potion down his throat, expecting the same bitter taste only to begin coughing violently when the potion began to burn painfully and the feeling flared up more with every breath, inhale or exhale. He doubled over, the cup clattered on the ground, rolling somewhere beneath the table but he paid it no mind. His heartbeat was too fast, his eyes were watering, his chest actually hurt and for a moment Dan thought that someone had thrown a poison into his cauldron. The pain was so strong that he soon found himself on his hands and knees, wheezing and snotty, trembling and sweaty before, as soon as it began, the feeling passed and he collapsed onto the floor, face pressed against the cool wooden panels as he breathed, the world bleary before his eyes.

He only felt a soft tap of a cat's paw at his face when he felt the tiredness take over and, with a single deep exhale, he let the sleep take over.

When he came to it, there was a soft, warm, breathing body next to him, which instantly jumped to its feet when Dan stirred. A curious snout sniffed at his face before a warm, wet tongue licked some of the sweat off his cheek.

“Off, Stardust,” He muttered, gently pushing the creature aside before pushing himself to sit up. There was a pounding feeling inside his skull and suddenly he wished that he hadn't eaten the day before when his stomach turned and knotted.

Dan grunted, pushing himself up and stripping off the sweat-soaked shirt as he stumbled through the cottage and to the small bedroom, falling into the sheets face-first.

=====

There was banging on the door and the feeling that filled Dan's being when he woke up was just as discontent as the repeated, too heavy hits against his front door. Grumbling, Dan rolled out of the bed and, after kicking the bunched up dirty shirt out of his way, he swiftly pulled the door open between the knocks, still shirtless but finding it the least of his concerns. The main was to stop the sound.

An impatient tap of fingers against the other arm was the sound that instantly replaced the knocking and he was faced with a stern and fairly judgemental look of a woman whose thin brow was arched so high that Dan could wonder if it could reach all the way till her hair line if she tried hard enough. “You were supposed to deliver your brews two hours ago,” Without a greeting nor waiting for his, she pushed past the young man and looked around the room with mild expression of disgust painted across her face. “I'm not paying the delivery and I expect you'll drop the price as a compensation that I had to reschedule the appointment just because you,” She pointed her finger at Dan and the man suddenly found the urge to slap her hand away, but instead he clasped his teeth together tightly “Couldn't get up early enough.”

“Have them and get out,” His tone a little strained, he grabbed the vials and shoved them in her hands, intent to get her out as quick as possible. “Don't bother paying,” A hand on her shoulder, he stopped the woman who had began rummaging through a satchel, muttering under her breath. Her expression was full of surprise, he realised, when he stopped by the door, pushing her outside his cottage “And don't bother coming back,” He added before slamming the door in her face.

He leaned his back against the door and drew in multiple deep breaths, trying to calm the fire that was building up within him, but grunted when his fingers curled into fists.

He could hear the bubbles. He could hear the faint buzz of the bee biscuits. He could hear the wind in the roof tiles. Even the flutter of the small sparrow wings was too much and suddenly his body flushed with fire, turning his vision blurry in a way he'd never experienced. His arms and legs moved before he realised it and suddenly the container of biscuits was flung across the room, breaking and shattering two of the biscuits while the third one whizzed up to the ceiling. He kicked at the nearest pile of books and a sound, rawer than ever, broke from his throat as he shoved the chair and it tipped over and fell with a rattle.

Before he knew it the fresh herbs were scattered on the floor and there were pieces of paper everywhere, books scattered and one unlucky one even torn apart, an empty cover on the arm chair staring back at Dan as the sound of broken glass finally landed him in reality again. Silver of a potion pooled on the ground amongst the shards of glass, and flowers began to bloom out of the wooden floor panels, innocent white buds popping up one after the other, the yellow centres as if smiling at Dan.

A sob broke from his chest and he sunk to the floor, wrapping his arms around his legs and buried his face into the knees. It burned inside still, the feeling, bubbling louder than any of his potions and he hated it. He hated it and it made him want to succumb to the fear, to sadness, though neither seemed to soothe the feeling.

Dan had no idea how long he sat there, his body stiff, tense and throat too raw for his liking. The lone bee biscuit continued to buzz near the ceiling but he had no strength to stop it.

A soft knock on the door drew his attention and he looked up, groggily.

Another knock followed, a little hesitant this time and after a short moment, a voice followed “Dan? I brought some tea herbs,” It was Phil and Dan rubbed at his face before motioning a hand at the door, muttering a short incantation lowly under his breath and the door clicked open, swinging just enough to leave it ajar and inviting for Phil to enter if the man chose to.

A mop of black hair poked in through the crack before the full body of the man emerged through the door. Dan didn't look up at him, didn't speak, didn't move, simply stared down at his knees when a small sniffle escaped him. This was enough to signal to Phil where the other man was and that, perhaps, he really was worse this time around than the last that they had met.

“Damn, Dan-- Are you okay?” Dropping the herbs on the table, Phil kneeled next to Dan, a hesitant hand placed on his bare shoulder and Dan shook his head.

There was a low murmur and suddenly there was a blanket in Phil's hands, only to soon drape it over Dan's shoulders.

“Do you…. Want to talk about it?” Phil soon settled to sit next to Dan.

When Dan didn't answer, they just sat in silence for a while, the buzzing of the bee still somewhere above their heads as Phil watched it move from one corner to the other slowly.

“Thank you,” And this time Dan understood what he was thanking the man for, bumping his shoulder against Phil's lightly before attempting to scramble on his feet. Phil was up before Dan, faster, and held his hand out towards Dan which the potion master gladly accepted and pulled himself up to the other man's height. They stood there, in the silence, for a little longer, hand in hand before Phil slowly released Dan's and looked around, eyes lingering on the sizeable flower patch that had grown out between the pieces of glass.

“Should we clean it up?” Dan nodded and looked around, first noting the book he'd harmed the most. He picked up the empty cover and began to wander around the room, mending the volume page by page, his voice low and soft as he spoke in incantations and it felt that with every healed page, his own head felt a little clearer. He looked up in time to see how Phil's hands moved, and how the toppled over towers of books stacked themselves back up and how the chair returned to its upward position. It didn't take long but soon the room was back to how it had been and the lone bee biscuit had been trapped into a jar.

Steaming cups of tea, pieced together by clearly less knowledgeable Phil, sat on the table and the men sat close to each other. The silence was long, but comfortable, and soon Dan felt how it was the familiar neutrality that had settled into his bones, and the blanket around his shoulders was warm in a similar way that Phil's hand had been earlier.

“Did you need me to make you something?” Dan questioned, suddenly aware that perhaps the other man's visit had had more purpose than just to take care of Dan after his newly acquired emotions had won him over too quickly.

“Only some friendly banter,” There was a fond, soft laughter in Phil's words and Dan looked up and at the man again to spot the familiar warmth in his cheeks. Without thinking, he brought his hand up and gently pressed his finger against the warmth on the unusually pale cheek. The warmth grew beneath his fingertip in a way that Dan hadn't witnessed before and it only increased as he drew the finger along the flushed skin.

“Odd but valuable Phil,” He muttered under his breath and though he didn't know to express it correctly, his tone was as soft as his voice allowed.

=====

It was several weeks before he even looked at the small cauldron next, the fear ghosting through his limbs whenever the idea crossed Dan's mind and he allowed it to win, to draw his eyes to the ground whenever he came into the touching distance of the cauldron.

The intensity of anger had been too much to handle and his hands shook just remembering the absence of that same clarity that he'd always relied upon while growing up.

And there was sadness that would accompany him whenever he saw Phil, whose presence had become bi-daily and then - daily, go.

“Dan, I never asked you about the cauldron by the door,” One day, as Dan was measuring the ingredients for the next potion, Phil asked, settled into Dan's armchair comfortably and with a book on his lap where he'd placed it when the question had come to the man's mind.

Dan tensed, but before he said anything, Phil kept on talking “I noticed it's been soft yellow for the past week, it looks happy.''

When Dan looked up at Phil, the other man was looking down at the book again, flipping over a page and not saying anything else.

“Has it now?” Dan muttered as he returned to measuring, but his focus was lost.

For many years, he had wondered about happiness, had tried to find ways to recreate it through the sweetness of the biscuits and taking a moment to look at things people would call beautiful, to try and appreciate the warmth of the fire on a cold day and to place an imagined sensation to what kids always seemed to display.

He paused measuring the powdered mushrooms and sat up straight, hands down in his lap. Stardust raised its head curiously, the white snake having slept calmly on the corner of the table while Dan had worked.

“How long have you known?” He asked quietly and there was no sound for so long that Dan wondered if the other man had suddenly evaporated from the reality.

“Since the very beginning,” Finally, the answer came, just as quietly and Phil shifted “The shopkeeper told me, but I couldn't see it the way she described you. When I talked to you, there was something else.”

A quiet 'hm' found it's way from Dan's throat and he pulled himself up from his seat, looking through the window and at the long stretch of the field beyond, a lone tree in the middle of it visible in the distance.

“With everything they've put you through, you deserve to know happiness,” Phil, suddenly right behind Dan spoke, softly, and took Dan's hand, unlocking the potion master's fingers to place the metal cup in his hand, using his palm to curl Dan's digits around the cool dish. Dan watched the faint reflection of himself and Phil on the glass of the window, noting the encouraging way Phil's lips always liked to bow into when the man smiled “And if anything goes wrong, I'll be here,” He promised before stepping away and retreating to his seat.

“Phil?” Phil looked up and away from the book again upon the sound of his name and Dan turned towards the other man, trying to show his most genuine smile “Thank you,” As if reoccurring theme in their conversations, Dan thanked.

The potion was yellow like the honey and the sun, like the centres of flowers and the sunset as it calmly rolled over itself in the cup. Dan held it, mesmerised by the colour for far too long, fingers trembling a little, still frightened to bring it up to his lips, but finally he did.

It was the taste of honey, the warmth of a sunlight and the rise of the a good morning awakening. It filled his every breath and his stomach, reaching beyond to touch his toes, the tips of his fingers, the very entirety of his head and it was warm. So very warm.

His throat constricted when the airy feeling of his lungs took home next to the joyful jerk of his heart.

A tear rolled down his cheek, but he was not sad, his cheeks cratered with dimples as his face settled into a smile that could not contain the entirety of the feeling.

He heard the steps before a hand settled on his shoulder and he couldn't help but to instantly turn around to face the blue-eyed man whose expression was the sun itself, whose softness of touch and voice were the feather of the softest bird, whose willingness to give Dan happiness caused the tears to flow down Dan's cheeks.

“Now, now,” Phil spoke, softly as ever, and wiped the tears from Dan's face gently “You deserve so much happiness, to know it, feel it, receive it,” With every dab at his cheeks Dan felt the warmth grow.

“Thank you, Phil, so much,” He felt his chest fill with the elation, and reached out, cupping the other man's face in his hands gently, a thumb running over the gentle blush that once more dusted Phil's pale cheeks “Thank you,” He pulled the man closer, placing his lips against Phil's forehead, a form of affection he'd known best from his mother and one that he had never felt like expressing himself until now.

Hands wound around his body and he felt himself being pulled forward until their bodies were pressed against each other comfortably and Dan relaxed into the embrace, wrapping his arms around the other man, returning the hug, face finding the nook of Phil's neck.

“I'll give you all of it,” Phil murmured and the warmth of the embrace was still strong when the two men pulled apart from it.

“I promise.”

When Phil leaned in, Dan's eyes had already fluttered shut.

[aussiekaylor-blog]

1-150

This was the death of me

Honesty hour: Ask me anything and ill be 100% honest, all questions answered.“PUT A NUMBER IN MY ASK!” (all answered q will be permanently posted in my dash)

1.Who was the last person you held hands with? i don't remember2. Are you outgoing or shy? Shy3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? my cousins4. Are you easy to get along with? depends 5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? hopefully my boyfriend or @a-treacherous-hope6. What kind of people are you attracted to? nice and funny7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? I'm already in one 8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? um my cat Isaac9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? yes10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? @a-treacherous-hope11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? hey bubba I'm bisexual12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now? IDWLF, i almost do, white horse, tim mcgraw and love story13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? yes 14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? sometimes15. What good thing happened this summer? um christmas happened16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? maybe17. Do you think there is life on other planets? properly 18. Do you still talk to your first crush? i don't have one19. Do you like bubble baths? no 20. Do you like your neighbours? nope21. What are you bad habits? falling hard to fast22. Where would you like to travel? to Nashville and st. louis  23. Do you have trust issues? yes 24. Favorite part of your daily routine? wake up pee shower food tumblr25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? my legs and stomach 26. What do you do when you wake up? play music 27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? darker28. Who are you most comfortable around? everyone 29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? nope 30. Do you ever want to get married? maybe one day I'm only 2131. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? yes32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? Taylor Swift Karlie Kloss33. Spell your name with your chin. a bby not that hard fun fact i can send texts with my nose34. Do you play sports? What sports? yes i play American football and aussie rules 35. Would you rather live without TV or music? live without tv36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? yes 37. What do you say during awkward silences? i laugh38. Describe your dream girl/guy? dream girl would be someone that can be them selfs around me and who will just lay and cuddle all day39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?KMART40. What do you want to do after high school? sleep and eat food41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? um some people yes42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? I'm writing songs or plotting ur death43. Do you smile at strangers? yes44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? outer space 45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? when the toilet calls for me 46. What are you paranoid about? people leaving me 47. Have you ever been high? yes regret it48. Have you ever been drunk? yes 49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? um what I've done in my personal life 50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? its to hot for hod dies51. Ever wished you were someone else? yes 52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? um that i wouldn't be so jealous 53. Favourite makeup brand? don't wear make up54. Favourite store? kmart55. Favourite blog? um my sisters @a-treacherous-hopes blog 56. Favourite colour? purple 57. Favourite food? pesto pasta58. Last thing you ate? pasta59. First thing you ate this morning? i don't eat breakfast60. Ever won a competition? For what? I've won heaps of athletic things61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? suspended for burning someone in science. I'm not even sorry 62. Been arrested? For what? nope63. Ever been in love? yes64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? um i was like 6 and it was cute idk i can't remember it 65. Are you hungry right now? I'm 21 I'm always hungry66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? yes67. Facebook or Twitter? both 68. Twitter or Tumblr? tumblr 69. Are you watching tv right now? not watching tv70. Names of your bestfriends? um Andrew and Akirah 71. Craving something? What? DUMPLINGS 72. What colour are your towels? purple72. How many pillows do you sleep with? 273. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? yes 74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? to many 75. Favourite animal? um dolphin 76. What colour is your underwear? black lace 77. Chocolate or Vanilla? vanilla 78. Favourite ice cream flavour? peanut butter79. What colour shirt are you wearing? green80. What colour pants? black81. Favourite tv show? Pretty little liars and OITNB82. Favourite movie? bend it like Beckham 83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? both84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? mean girls 85. Favourite character from Mean Girls? Karen86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? squirt87. First person you talked to today? @webothwentmad138988. Last person you talked to today? @a-treacherous-hope89. Name a person you hate? not naming names90. Name a person you love? my boyfriend91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? yes 92. In a fight with someone? yes 93. How many sweatpants do you have? to many94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? to many95. Last movie you watched? um a Fantastic Beast And Where To Find Them96. Favourite actress? Emma Stone and Taylor Swift 97. Favourite actor? Zac Efron HSM98. Do you tan a lot? no I'm white as99. Have any pets? yes my cat Isaac 100. How are you feeling? better then normal 101. Do you type fast?no102. Do you regret anything from your past? yes 103. Can you spell well? nope 

104. Do you miss anyone from your past? yes my nan R.I.P105. Ever been to a bonfire party? nope106. Ever broken someone’s heart? yes107. Have you ever been on a horse? yes 108. What should you be doing? yes 109. Is something irritating you right now? yes.110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? yes and i wrote a song about it 111. Do you have trust issues? yes 112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? boyfriend113. What was your childhood nickname? Mouse114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? yes115. Do you play the Wii? yes wii bowling116. Are you listening to music right now? yes117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? no i don't like soup unless its pumpkin 118. Do you like Chinese food? yes 119. Favourite book? all the rivers run by Nancy Cato120. Are you afraid of the dark? no121. Are you mean? yes I'm a bitch122. Is cheating ever okay? no123. Can you keep white shoes clean? i don't own white shoes for that purpose 124. Do you believe in love at first sight? yes125. Do you believe in true love? yes 126. Are you currently bored? maybe127. What makes you happy? nuggets and cuddles128. Would you change your name? no129. What your zodiac sign? cancer130. Do you like subway? yes 131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? be honest with them132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? @a-treacherous-hope133. Favourite lyrics right now? I'm sitting eyes wide open and I got one thing stuck in my mind, Wondering if I dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life IDWLF ZAYN ft Taylor Swift134. Can you count to one million? um sure135. Dumbest lie you ever told? I'm sick136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? closed 137. How tall are you? 5ft on the dot.. agh I'm so small138. Curly or Straight hair? straight139. Brunette or Blonde? blonde140. Summer or Winter? winter141. Night or Day? night142. Favourite month? june 143. Are you a vegetarian? no144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? don't eat it 145. Tea or Coffee? don't drink it146. Was today a good day? eh it was alright 147. Mars or Snickers? mars148. What’s your favourite quote? “To me, Fearless is not the absense of fear. It's not being completely unafraid. To me, Fearless is having fears. Fearless is having doubts. Lots of them. To me, Fearless is living in spite of those things that scare you to death.”  - @taylorswift149. Do you believe in ghosts? yes 150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line. The night was calm and mild. All The Rivers Run by Nancy Cato

[dimpled-gummy-smiles]

Fall

You saw the blood that splattered across the room.

You saw the crazed look (yet you knew he was just afraid and scared) of your brother.

You saw the sword dripping with blood.

You saw MoXiang dropping to his knees, before you heard a loud thud as he laid on the floor, unmoving.

You screamed, then cried. The sound you made was inhuman, but you didn’t care. Making your way to the dead body, you craddled him in your arms and cried. Heat left his body and his face was void of colour. It was a vast contrast against his usual rosy cheeks and cherry pink lips.

“MoXiang, wake up.”

“MoXiang, you can’t leave me.”

---------------------------------------------

You woke up with a small scream.

Surveying your surroundings, you find yourself in a familiar room. YouLan came into your room moments later.

“Princess, are you alright?” She asked, worried. You looked at her, silently. You couldn’t trust the words to exit your lips after what you’ve witnessed. “Did you have a nightmare, princess?” And you nodded. Silently, you got out of bed. YouLan was startled as she realised you were gathering your coat.

“Princess, where are you going?” She asked, “its late. Do you want me to perhaps call a master for you?” You shook your head. “I’m going to find MoXiang.”

MoXiang’s room was one that you were fairly familiar with. He had often joked that he was supposed to be in your room and not the other way round. But you laughed and said that you liked the scent of his room better. And it was nicer than your dull Princess Quarters. Of course, MoXiang didn’t mind that you were in his room. He loved it.

YouLan spoke up, and your hand stopped short of the door handle after hearing her words.

“Master MoXiang isn’t in his room.”

You turned to look at her. “What do you mean he’s not in his room?” You probed. “Master MoXiang...” You waited for her to continue her words. You urged her to say it, promising her that whatever words follow, you would keep your sanity intact. “He’s dead... two months ago...” She said.

Your legs gave way immediately, falling to the ground after the words fell from her lips.

Dead? It couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense.

“Is his room empty?” You mumbled. The last thing you want to hear was that his room is being occupied by someone else. YouLan nodded, “It was your order that no one was allowed to enter Master MoXiang’s room. And his room to be kept intact. No one has entered his room, at least not to YouLan’s knowledge.”

You nodded. With every willpower you had, you got up from the floor and opened the door. Surprised, YouLan asked again where you were headed to. It was late. She could wake a master instead and accompany you despite this late hour. But you shook your head. “YouLan, I’m going to MoXiang’s chamber. You can go back to rest.”

“But-” You looked at her and smile weakly. “I’ll be fine.” And with that, you pulled your cloak tighter around you and left your chamber, walking towards his.

It was dark. Dusty. The air was still. You walked into the room, closing the doors behind you. It wasn’t how you envisioned his room. It wasn’t like how you remembered. Today, it was dark and lonely.

You surveyed the room. Every piece of furniture was collecting dust. You traced your finger from the table to the edge of the bed frame. Slowly, you climbed onto the bed. His scent was still there, but it was weak. It felt like it would disappear within the next few days. You lied there and slowly let the tears fall.

You didn’t know your nightmare came true. It had happened. Maybe you had forgotten and now your memories came back to haunt you as a dream.

Unknowingly, you fell asleep, clutching the sheets of MoXiang’s bed.

A creak stirred you awake from your slumber. Has it been morning already? The dark sky outside indicated that it was still hours away from the sunrise. You looked at the door through your sleepy eyes. And then it widened you noticed a figure by the doorway. It didn’t looked like YouLan. The figure was too built to be her.

Silently, you crawled out of bed and grabbed the nearest weapon you could find, which was fortunately a small stool. Weighted enough to cause harm but light enough to be held.

You walked towards the figure that was still at the entrance. It was a man, definitely. Judging by the silhouette, it was definitely a male. And it was someone that was fiddling with every inanimate object he sees in the room. What’s this man doing in MoXiang’s room? What’s more a man that has been dead for more than two months?

But the closer you got to this man, the more you hesitated. You recognised that back view. The back view of the man you loved so much. You recognised the long hair. You would always braid it and he would keep it in his hair for as long as he can. And then he would pout when it turns messy. You recognised the robes. You had given to him on his birthday, he had cherished it so much that he didn’t dare to wear it. You teased him saying that if he’s never going to wear it, you’re going to throw it away. And you remembered the smile on his face when he noticed you had a matching set as well. His birthday gift. The very last one you gave him, until he died.

Unknowingly, you made a sound. The figure whipped his head back. Your eyes widened, the wooden stool falling to the ground with a loud thud, you were sure you had woken everyone in the vicinity.

“Mo... Xiang?” You whispered.

“Princess.” The man greeted. Your eyes glanced over his features. Haggard and tired. It looked like he had been through a lot.

You called his name again. He smiled. And with every call, he got a step closer to you.

“You’re alive...” You whispered. A voice no louder than a mouse.

“I’m back, Princess.” He nodded. His breath was enough to let you know that this man in front of you was very alive and breathing. He wasn’t a hallucination, neither a dream. He felt real. Very real.

You hit his chest, weakly. Smacking fist by fist, you cried. Along the lines of “I thought you were dead.” and “You weren’t coming back.”, you let your tears fall. You didn’t know how you held it in, those two months. But you let your dams broke the moment you saw him alive right in front of you.

MoXiang took your punches. He deserved it. He made you cry. He made his favourite person cry. He promised himself he wouldn’t make you cry. He deserves it.

Your punches stopped. And you gradually slid down. MoXiang held you every so lightly against him. His arms gently weaving itself around your waist, pulling you to him. He could still hear your sniffles and hiccups. He could still feel your fingers softly clenching on the fabric of his robes.

Gently, he lifted you up in his arms and carried you to bed. Brushing the tear stains off your cheeks with his thumbs, he chuckled, “How do you even look this beautiful when crying?” You held on to his sleeves again, when you noticed him leaving the bed. He laughed lightly, kissing your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He says. You nodded, almost childlike. Your eyes following his every movement. He takes off his shoes and his outer robe before climbing back into bed with you.

He scoots himself closer to you, letting you use his arm as a pillow. You pulled him closer, letting your nose dive into his scent. Of lavender and roses. MoXiang always smelt like flowers. MoXiang instinctively placed his other arm across your waist as he buries his nose into your hair. Lord, he missed this scent.

“Goodnight, princess.” He smiles as he follows you into a dream.

[autumnwuffy-blog]

Q&A Autumn Wuffy time!

@bambwie

Wait, these are actually hella cute questions.”

— 1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

My hubby

2. Are you outgoing or shy?

ummm... neither introvert, I don’t want to say something

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?

Anyfur really

4. Are you easy to get along with?

totally I’m a hippie

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?

My hubby

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

Cis men and Cis women - I’m Bisexual, more toward the gay end of bi (guy here)

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

hell yeah I’m marred!

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

hubby

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

no, some kinks and fedishes but generally no.

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

A nurse

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

“I really would like to hear from you“

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

I -I don’t have favorite songs.

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?

Only if cuddling

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

HECK YEAH!

15. What good thing happened this summer?

nothing.

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

duh

17. Do you think there is life on other planets?

scientifically improbable so no.

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

nope!

19. Do you like bubble baths?

ewww no.

20. Do you like your neighbors?

hell naw! He screams offensive and obscene words I dare not repeat! And he has dementia so it never ends. So. Much. Yelling!

21. What are you bad habits?

ohhhhoo.... um bad hygiene, swearing, Messy hair, money-spending problems, mania, collecting too many books

22. Where would you like to travel?

Poland (again), Japan, Singapore,California, Yellowstone, Vancouver, and anywhere with wolves in the wild where I can hear them howling. Oh and a Furry Con.

23. Do you have trust issues?

Yeah, major...

24. Favorite part of your daily routine?

YouTube

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

my private parts, I really don’t care for them. (transguy... yeah...)

26. What do you do when you wake up?

try to go back to sleep.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

my skin is good.

28. Who are you most comfortable around?

my hubby

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

yup, but I don’t care

30. Do you ever want to get married?

I am!

31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail?

no thank God in Heaven

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

I don’t do threesomes...

33. Spell your name with your chin.

I type with my chin on a track ball mouse so... Autumn Wuffy

34. Do you play sports? What sports?

Nothing currently I'm disabled so sports aren't things for me.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

TV

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

Loads of times

37. What do you say during awkward silences?

Anyway…

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

my husband

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

Amazon.

40. What do you want to do after high school?

I'm long done with high school, almost done with college, Just need to complete one/2 more class(es). But currently taking a break from school.

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

Some people. Not abusers.

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?

Many things: I'm thinking, I'm drawing, I'm listening to music, I don't feel like talking(Introvert) etc.

43. Do you smile at strangers?

oh yes. Everybody deserves a smile! Unless you're a psychopath then you don't really need it.

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

Bottom of the ocean is way more fascinating.

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

Food.

46. What are you paranoid about?

Abuse. My PTSD coming back. Mania. Being raped. Not being able to change my name. Divorce from my husband. People not believing my husband's Real. People making my husband sad/bad and I can't do anything about it. Losing my husband like through death or something. My favorite dog dying. Somebody destroying my fursuits/cosplays. Permanently cannot access porn ever. I have a lot more but I don't care to list them.

47. Have you ever been high?

Only on prescribed painkillers. No longer than 20 minutes.

48. Have you ever been drunk?

Too many times, I regret them all.

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

Porn. Thought about suicide seriously.

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

Well the one I'm wearing is Rainbow soooooooo

51. Ever wished you were someone else?

Completely! I wish I was a man fully parts included. Or my fursona.

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

My private parts.

53. Favourite makeup brand?

ewww I hate that stuff

54. Favourite store?

Amazon.

55. Favourite blog?

@in-your-face-elizabeth

56. Favourite colour?

Orange! Specifically Marigold

57. Favourite food?

Top Ramon. Or onions. Or potatoes in any form or mac& cheese with hot sauce. or corn chips. Or Fritos. Oreos as well. That's pretty much it.

58. Last thing you ate?

Peanut butter and jelly sandwich

59. First thing you ate this morning?

Turkey and mashed potatoes.

60. Ever won a competition? For what?

Recently for a character!

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?

Never.

62. Been arrested? For what?

No criminal record

63. Ever been in love?

Many times. Right now! Wedding ring for proof

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

My best friend tripped over my wheelchair and landed on my lips with hers. Totally accidental. For her I feel bad but I liked it. I just didn't know what to call it at the time. I was very sheltered kid we never talked about LGBT.

65. Are you hungry right now?

I can't tell. Maybe?

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

I don't really have many more twitter friends.

67. Facebook or Twitter?

I really don't like Facebook so Twitter because I have one

68. Twitter or Tumblr?

Both!

69. Are you watching tv right now?

No, it 6 AM

70. Names of your bestfriends?

I want to protect their privacy so… no

71. Craving something? What?

I could go for a Fritos or something salty

72. What colour are your towels?

White

72. How many pillows do you sleep with?

Zero just my plushies I love them.

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

Oh yeah! Like at least 1 to 10 every night on average 4

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?

Over 20

75. Favourite animal?

It's a tie between deer, dogs, wolves and fox

76. What colour is your underwear?

White

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

Depends on what I feel. Swirl sometimes but usually vanilla

78. Favourite ice cream flavour?

Red velvet cake

79. What colour shirt are you wearing?

I'm only wearing a sweatshirt

80. What colour pants?

Green Family Guy pajama pants

81. Favourite tv show?

Gravity Falls

82. Favourite movie?

I don't think I have one …I think the closest is perks of being a wallflower.

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

Mean girls

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?

Mean girls. I hated 21 Jump St. Sorry to everyone that liked it.

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

Janice

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?

Nemo

87. First person you talked to today?

The person getting me out of bed my aid

88. Last person you talked to today?

My husband

89. Name a person you hate?

Not going there

90. Name a person you love?

My husband

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

Donald Trump he needs it he needs a reality check.

92. In a fight with someone?

Sort of?

93. How many sweatpants do you have?

Five or four

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

Too many to count

95. Last movie you watched?

Suicide squad maybe?

96. Favourite actress?

*fanboys* Anna Popplewell

97. Favourite actor?

I like a lot of them so I don't know

98. Do you tan a lot?

I can if I go out in the sun. But I don't because I don't like the heat.

99. Have any pets?

No...

100. How are you feeling?

Kind of depressed

101. Do you type fast?

With the voice dictation yes

102. Do you regret anything from your past?

Many many things....

103. Can you spell well?

No not at all

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

My grand parents, my great uncle, pretty much everybody that died and  my family dog

105. Ever been to a bonfire party?

Yes! At my old house we had a bonfire. I don't live there anymore because I don’t like my family. At least that family. At least right now. At least it seems like forever.

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

Sadly yes.

107. Have you ever been on a horse?

I am a national handicap riders Association equestrian of 14 years

108. What should you be doing?

Sleeping

109. Is something irritating you right now?

No thankfully

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

Yesssssss

111. Do you have trust issues?

yup

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

My husband

113. What was your childhood nickname?

It was a different time and I don't care for it anylonger because I don't like the name was given and it was the spinoff on my birth name which I hate my birth name it's stupid for me Nice for a girl but not for a guy. My family is under the delusion that I am female.

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?

Yes I now live in England

115. Do you play the Wii?

Handicap. No can't

116. Are you listening to music right now?

I wish I was

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?

Yummy yes

118. Do you like Chinese food?

Oh totally

119. Favourite book?

this is hard ... Looking for Alaska by John Green

120. Are you afraid of the dark?

No I rather like it. The dark is my friend

121. Are you mean?

According to some people. I really don't think so and many people agree.

122. Is cheating ever okay?

No never.

123. Can you keep white shoes clean?

Oh yeah!

124. Do you believe in love at first sight?

This happened to my husband so yes.

125. Do you believe in true love?

I experience it every day so yes I do believe in true love

126. Are you currently bored?

No I'm answering these fun questions!

127. What makes you happy?

Gravity falls that's my number one

128. Would you change your name?

Working on it

129. What your zodiac sign?

Rather not say

130. Do you like subway?

Not enough experience

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Have fun! In a plutonic way.

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

This is redundant

133. Favourite lyrics right now?

I don't know

134. Can you count to one million?

Oh yeah but there are so many better things to do with your time.

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

No I didn't take a shower…

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

Depends

137. How tall are you?

5′0″

138. Curly or Straight hair?

I have curly hair

139. Brunette or Blonde?

I have dirty blond hair edging on Brown

140. Summer or Winter?

Winter I absolutely hate this summer.

141. Night or Day?

Night

142. Favourite month?

October

143. Are you a vegetarian?

No

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

Dark chocolate

145. Tea or Coffee?

I can't have coffee so Tea

146. Was today a good day?

Today was a very bad day

147. Mars or Snickers?

Snickers!

148. What’s your favourite quote?

I'll get back to you on that

149. Do you believe in ghosts?

Totally I've seen them

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

I can't reach it so I'm going to pass