#I think I need to accept the fact that I cannot draw hats

[brooklynisher]

Day 19: Vice Quadrant

I love gay people

[tohellandback99]

I wanted to talk about this for a minute after sharing the painting first.

I figured out what was throwing me off a bit on my other recent drawings! ☺️

I’ve got a whole trait of my art style that I’ve been shutting out and I didn’t even know it until I drew these two together in a painting, again. When I showed someone this page on the exact same day they said that it looks like my style, “spindly, like Tim Burton.” I was like, “wut?” And they said that it’s the limbs on both of them and how they look kind of thin and long.

This was something I was first aware of and didn’t like about when I first started drawing people because they looked really stiff, and because it doesn’t work with all body types and I thought it would be an issue and something I shouldn’t do. I tried to fix it, and you can probably tell now by me admitting this. I did this same thing in my other painting. In both of these we have Kat and Raúl moving around ALSO, and so don’t look very stiff at all. I do this by “mistake,” often because I just forgot this variation of what my art looks like comes off quick when there’s a big background. I just got so used to trying to “fix” my art that I didn’t realize I was “fixing” it, but now I’ve realized that that actually doesn’t work in my favor anymore. I also tend to draw people really small on the page, even before doing anything comic related and this also is something that added to my confusion about what was happening and what I think I need to be more self accepting about personally, when I draw and paint

See his body and arms are a bit longer and spindly here as well?…. Yeah 🥺 and now that I know this, I’m going to just work with the fact that I do this naturally.

I also would force-make his face more square. as my new painting has shown me about my suspicions about my own art, he doesn’t need it. his head and face is entirely ovals and not square at all.

Omygod, the second picture with Kat’s skirt has red swoops. That’s me taking “notes” lol. Btw, her jacket is the same as Raúl’s. Is subject to change… and I gave her a Mohawk because she’s more than earned it. Raúl has a beret because of course. I settled on that even though it’s cold and berets don’t cover much, but I must have him put a hat on outside and that he needs something to stay warm… (Help me)

my internal Matriarch cannot help herself and I wouldn’t feel the end of it if I did not give him gloves, scarf and a hat. 😓I was not expecting this and I don’t know what else to do about it… it is driving me insane often when I realize this and see him without a hat on in the blistering ass cold

[supremeinlilac]

Into the light (I'll hold you)

Pairing: Coven!Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: Self doubt, angst.

A/n: Canon divergent, H*nk doesn't exist and Delia's acid attack never happened, although she has still had the Sight previously. Was saving this fic but fuck it, I'm posting it now😌

Halloween.

The night of eerie suspense and the lingering sense of being watched. You enjoyed the days festivities when you were younger, skipping excitedly door to door under a white sheet with your friends.

This Halloween would be your second at Miss Robichaux’s, the first you’d all gone out to a party and got a little too drunk, returning to an irritated Ms Goode. It had been the first time you’d kissed her, and she’d rejected you because of the state you’d been in.

Still, it was the night that had started the path of your relationship with the headmistress.

You loved Halloween.

This year, Fiona Goode, reigning Supreme, returned to the academy. You were instantly weary of her, due to the fact Delia never liked to bring her mother up in conversation of her past. When you’d overheard her telling your girlfriend that she was wasted potential in the school, a prickle of icy anger called the hair at the nape of your neck to stand rigid.

You and the rest of the witches had decided to stay in, watch films and play games. It wasn’t often that everyone could get together to celebrate an evening where witches were celebrated, so they wanted to make the most of the friendly atmosphere that surrounded them. It never lasted long in the coven.

Fiona went out to a bar, her witches hat crooked atop her head and you found yourself glaring at her as she left. The woman alit a flame inside you, one that easily spread and engulfed your powers, fire licking hotly at the tips of your fingers and threatened to overpower you.

Cordelia had stayed behind with you, much to her mother protest, to have a quiet night while the rest of the hubbub would be concentrated in the living room. You were both wrong to think that there’d be no disturbances.

The shattering of glass fractured the silence in your shared room with Cordelia. She’d been braiding your hair, an intimacy that the pair of you rarely found time to do together. She hummed the song you were sung as a child, a habit that she’d picked up in your time at the coven, the action now second nature. It no longer only served to soothe you, but now it brought her comfort too.

Her fingers stilled in your hair, head snapping to the door. You heard a couple of loud thuds and shouts, and then her hand was clutching yours protectively.

“Hey Cordelia?” You heard Queenie shout up the stairs, “you best look outside.”

She was off the bed like it had burned her, drawing the curtains back to show the slow advance of the people outside. You heard her shaky inhale, before she fisted her hands in her trousers and turned to you.

“It’s just the locals. Playing tricks on us, you know how Madison likes to irritate them the rest of the year. Lord knows we’re not the best neighbours,” her face looked serious but the waver in her voice betrayed her. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you.

It had been a blur after that, shouting and running, and Cordelia slipped out of your grasp. You’d been fighting, had a kitchen knife pressed into your hand by, Zoe, maybe? No. It had been one of the other girls.

They wouldn’t die, those zombies, if that’s even what they were. You’d slashed at a part of them that they shouldn’t have been able to get back up from. Yet it did, limbs flailing and reaching spindly towards you.

Knocked to the ground, you think you must have passed out. But not before you’d seen Cordelia trying to defend the house, eyes furious and scared and dark.

You remembered the purr of the chainsaw, the splatter of blood. The silence that hung after.

The next day you found Cordelia sat at her usual bench in the greenhouse, frows furrowed in concentration as she mixed ingredients with the gentle crack of test tubes and vials. You could see the anguish behind hooded eyes, it was clear that she’d been restless last night, down here long past when everyone else slept.

You had seen her from your window as you’d been drawing the curtains the night before, standing over the pile of haphazardly thrown bodies of the zombies. You weren’t sure how long she’d spent there, not wanting to disturb her until now.

She’d also been absent at both breakfast and dinner, with the excuse of paperwork, but you could see through the thinly veiled lie. You brought her a sandwich and a yogurt, setting them down on a bench before pulling a chair up beside her to watch her work.

Cordelia could mix potions and restore plants without thinking, her craft a lovingly perfected dance in which he moved around the greenhouse with practised ease, plucking vials off the shelves and balancing glassware in steady hands.

Her hands shook. Slightly, almost unnoticeable was the small tremor but it indicated her unease. There was blood still crusted under her fingernails.

You softly coaxed her to put the glass down with fingers around her wrists, guiding her to look at you before lazily lacing your fingers together. She whispered a greeting with a small smile, almost as if she hadn’t registered your presence until you’d touched her.

“I feel like I failed everyone. My girls.” Her voice cracked languidly, eyes falling to where your hands joined on her lap, her nails scraping at your skin nervously. “How can I be headmistress when I cannot protect you all?”

“It’s not your job to do it all alone.” You reminded her gently, thumb brushing over whitened knuckles, following the dip and contour of her skin. “Cordelia.”

A single droplet of shimmering water does not sink a ship. A single cloud cannot shield the sun. A single parent could spend years doubting their worth, unaware that it takes a village to raise a child.

No single person can bear the weight of the world’s troubles without crumbling.

Not even Cordelia, whom you thought could harness the sun if she willed it, could do everything herself. It simply was an unrealistic expectation that her mother had used to weigh her down with.

“Look at me, baby. You are not alone, okay?”

When her head lifted slowly, the light caught the water in her eyelashes, diamond tears shimmering and rolling down the curve of reddened cheeks. You were quick to coo at her, hand coming to cradle her face so you could lean to kiss them away, salt on your tongue.

She shook her head, refusing to look at you and you felt hopeless, like a bystander on the site of an accident. As much as you tried to couldn’t get close enough to her to help, to comfort her as she needed. Running in a dream, tripping over a mere breath and wading through syrup as you tried to escape.

“I’m a failure.”

You found yourself shaking your head, the phantom of a protest falling from your lips, how could Cordelia think that.

“Everything that Fiona says is true.” She continued, head falling into her arms on the desk. Your hand rested on her back, a gentle reminder of the comfort you could give her if only she asked for it. If only she would accept it when you would give it to her anyway.

“I don’t belong here.” Whispered from under her hair which hid her.

Cordelia didn’t realise her own worth, and you wondered if anyone ever truly does.

Does the night sky know its beauty? Or does it envy the blue of the day? Does it wait for the sun to kiss its head and grant it eternity. The night sky is rich with light, if it would only look deep enough within itself to find it. Burning stars and planets reflecting the sun, a kaleidoscope of colour on an ebony canvas.

Cordelia would often look at pictures of her absent mother when she believed to be alone. She was secretly envious of Fiona’s effortless graceful command and hold that she had over the whole coven. She believed her own magical abilities to be inferior to that of the Supreme’s, but it was an unfair comparison, for a Supreme would always persist.

She thought that it meant hers weren’t strong enough, scared for eventualities like the previous night, that she would fail at the role of protector. But she hadn’t failed, she’d fought just like you and Zoe, and it was just the luck of the draw that Zoe’s fear would trigger her Power Negation.

But Cordelia held such raw natural, burning potential that you’d habitually find yourself staring as she practised spells. Eyes following the deft flow of her fingers as she’d manipulate movement. She’d had the second sight within her, so at least on a subconscious level she must know her power.

“You belong here. And look around you, look at this place. Yourgreenhouse.”

“You made it into what it’s become. It’s you.” You spoke, letting yourself spin to appreciate all the work she’d put into this place, into herself.

Cordelia lifted her head, hair falling from her eyes and crowning her face as she followed your gaze to the hanging planters, the glass vials. To the floor that she’d swept only days ago, leaves starting to litter the stone again.

She watched you run fingertips over the exposed brick on the wall, your attention solely on her work around you. She could see the adoration in the iris’ of your eyes, alight with your honesty. You gaze returning, always, to her as you walked to her.

Tentatively, you reached out for her. Was she yet ready to accept your help, your love as you wanted to give it to her?

Still unsure, Cordelia shied away from your comforting touch, head returning to her hands.

“You don’t have to live behind Fiona’s words anymore.” You whispered into her temple, as if straight into her mind.

Sometimes it is easier to live in the shadows than to confront those who cast them.

She’d spent her whole life cowering in Fiona’s shadow, growth and development stunted from the lack of light. Self-belief fractured into a gaping crack.

She’d been trapped, dark and alone with a mother figure who didn’t love her in a way she understood how to be loved. They both loved each other then, and ove each other now, but sometimes mere love isn’t enough. It isn’t consistent enough to be safe. You can love someone and still hurt them.

You had spent time working on her confidence, creeping back into the light and into herself again. Breaking down the thoughts that had grown to immobile threatening walls that only served to block the light more.

All it had taken was one night of Fiona being back for all that progress to retreat back to where they’d been hidden. Cordelia had urged you then to back away, to leave her and grow by yourself, that she was only holding you back.

But you gritted your teeth and grinned in the face of the devil. You weren’t scared of the dark. And you’d be damned if you were leaving it without your girlfriend. Even if you had to start right back at the beginning, you’d help her to heal.

“You could be the next Supreme.” You urged, pulling her head from where it rested on the table, forcing her to look in your eyes and see your honesty.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” She begged, vision hazed by tears.

“But it is true, Delia. You’re so powerful.” You pressed, eyes conveying your severity like your voice couldn’t. Willing her to believe.

You reached to brush the tears that clung to her eyelashes before they fell and stained her face. A lingering kiss to her lips, the feeling of her lower lip wobbling between your own. In that moment, you could feel her fragility.

You didn’t want to push further, knowing that she may never truly believe in her full potential like you did. Instead, you pushed yourself to feet and bounced in front of her. She looked up in confusion, eyes still full with tears that caught the light, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss them away again. They didn’t deserve to dampen her skin.

“Dance with me?” You asked, standing and offering a hand the way you’d so often seen in movies.

A shy smile formed on the headmistress’ lips, cheeks pink and the tips of her ears flushed as she allowed herself to be pulled from her seat. Into the shine of the moonlight, which shone beams of liquid silver through the glass onto the hard stone and the soft of Cordelia.

Your arms secured themselves around her waist while hers stroked the back of your neck. Moments like this made you wonder if perhaps the cliché’s people told you about love had been true. Maybe this could be forever. It always felt like forever when you were in her arms.

You swayed to phantom music, slow and deliberate, soft touches and kisses on bare shoulders. You felt like even a whisper would shatter the perfect peace you’d enveloped you both in, sending ripples of doubt over the sheer water and to Cordelia again.

The moon felt like perfect company in that moment, like a third person, watching and waiting. A witness to the silent change.

Cordelia pressed her forehead to yours, her fingers splayed through the hair at the back of your head, holding you close. You could see the depth of her eyes, searching for the lie in yours that wasn’t there to find. You truly believed that she was the next Supreme, she had to be.

“Say something.” She breathed, hand on your waist dancing under the hem of your top, cold fingers on warm skin.

“Like what?” You asked, pulling back momentarily so you could smile at her. The hand that was behind your head tucked hair behind your ear and brought your hand from her shoulder so she could press lips to your knuckles. The ridge of bone under the soft of her skin and then she was hugging you again.

“Anything, I just want to hear your voice.”

So you told her about yourself. Stories she’d never heard and memories you’d thought you’d forgotten. Whispers of your past shared with your future.

She nuzzled her chin into the crook of your neck and listened, breathing deep the smell of your perfume that clung, lingering to the collar of your clothes.

A laugh.

Rippling up your throat at reminiscing a memory, vibration muffled against her ear at your jaw, and Cordelia swore that she could feelyour emotions. Truly feel you, and she realised that you couldn’t lie to her. Couldn’t will yourself to say something untrue just to still the aching beat of her heart within her chest.

You couldn’t make yourself want to mend her. You didn’t want that. You wanted to help her heal. Heal from her past that held less joy and laughter than yours did.

You wanted to help her create memories of her own, just like this.

Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Dancing in the dark under the glow of the patient moon.

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[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Was Napoleon a tyrant? I don't necessarily think he was: at least, I believe he was a better alternative to the absolute monarchs he was fighting. But there are those who disagree. What are your thoughts on the subject?

This is a can of worms to be sure.

I mean....how are we defining the word tyrant? All monarchs are tyrants to someone. Monarchy, by its very nature, is tyrannical in one way, shape, or form, no matter who is at its head. Even in the more neutered forms we see now days with the British. The Queen still exerts a ridiculous amount of power, all things considered.

Napoleon was no better or worse than any other monarch in Europe at that time. Indeed, better than some, worse than others. Because you know, he was human!

-

This got VERY long. SO LONG. Choice excerpts from below the cut:

"'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it."

"(And I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system. Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door. Napoleon: Hush.)"

"Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor."

"Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight! (I'm putting my money on Napoleon.)"

--

tl;dr: a more or less benevolent emperor who had his faults and who was intimately aware, for better or worse, more than most monarchs, that the head is only tenuously attached to the body. (Skim to the bottom for my thoughts on the personal things i.e. how I interpret Napoleon's actions and brain)

But, more seriously, as with most absolute statements, I am opposed to calling him a tyrant because it is reductive and serves no purpose except to make broad sweeping political statements that I believe are far more about the person making the statement exemplifying their modern political, republican position (as in, actual republican-I-support-the-existence-of-republics not the gop) rather than expressing any sort of truth about the past. (wHaT iS tRuTh.)

For historical purposes, it can over-simplify the situation and lead to skewed interpretations of events because you're coming in with this word that has a lot of modern, 20th and 21st century baggage to it.

And, because these people are coming in with this big, bad word of tyrant as a label for Napoleon, it doesn't allow them to engage with the nuance and complexities of his reign.

Anyway.

Napoleon, as emperor, supported centralized power held in his own hands, with support from other governing bodies (senate, council of state etc.). However, Napoleon had a lot of influence in the structuring of these governing bodies and the subsequent appointments as a means to exert control over entities that would otherwise be able to act somewhat independent from him and impinge his power.

We see this consolidation of power beginning, obviously, under the consulate. 'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it.

There was the whole theatre around the Tribunate offering to extend Napoleon's tenure as First Consul for another ten years as a means of thanks/showing gratitude for all he did for France (Fouche was like: fuck that, let's just make a statue of the guy). Napoleon played the part of Humble Servant of the Public and refused both statue and the ten year extension. (Very Julius Caesar: You all did see that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?)

In actuality, though, he was pissed because he wanted it extended for life.

This resulted in the Council of State deciding "independently" (i.e. Napoleon wasn't present but he sure as hell influenced that Council session) to hold a plebiscite in order to ask The People two key questions: 'Should Napoleon Bonaparte be consul for life?' and 'Should he have the right to designate his successor?'

Napoleon nixed the second question saying to Cambaceres, 'The testament of Louis XIV was not respected, so why should mine be? A dead man has nothing to say.' Which is to say, he knew people would vote for him to be Consul for life, but the prospect of him choosing a successor, a la the Roman Empire, and having that choice be without input from the people and respected upon his death? Less clear.

(And, I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system.

Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door.

Napoleon: Hush.)

For the Plebiscite, there were around 3.56 million votes for Yes to the question of Napoleon as consul for life and only around 8,300 for No.

The turnout rate was 60% which is uhh...impressive! (To be fair, there was no real evidence of tampering with the vote. Unlike in subsequent Plebiscites, such as the results for Do We Make Him Emperor, which were absolutely doctored. But, considering the highest turnout ever seen in the French Revolution was around 30/35%, double that is certainly something.)

Lafayette was pissed with this. He kicked up a fuss in the Senate and wrote to Napoleon saying that his 'restorative dictatorship' had been well and fine for now but has Napoleon thought about restoring liberty? and that he was certain Napoleon, of all people, wouldn't want an 'arbitrary regime' to be installed!

Napoleon: Bold of you to assume that, Lafayette.

There were, at this time, some mumblings and grumblings about tyranny from the liberals and those still wanting to continue the experiment of the French Republic, to be sure. They increased as time went on and Napoleon's power continued to consolidate.

Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor.

Lafayette: WhAt Is tHiS??

Napoleon: Look into my face and tell me honestly that you are shocked.

--

His government, as Consul and as Emperor, was centralized and very top-down in how it operated. Little was done without Napoleon's input.

The seemingly democratic institutions that had propped him up into power were retained and Napoleon used them as a means to facilitate his rule. As noted earlier, Napoleon had a heavy hand in appointments and the processes in place to fill various offices. Nothing was really...independent of him and his influence.

Though, in terms of Image Building of Empire, Napoleon worked hard to try and maintain the façade of impartiality as emperor. That he was head of state, sure, but all state apparatuses operated independent of him.

(Why is Napoleon's hat so big? because it is full of lies supporting the imperial image making machine.)

That said, when it came to filling those offices, Napoleon focused on merit more than anything as he wanted his governing officials to be capable, hardworking and, above all else, loyal.

(A good quote from Napoleon in one of his more Eat the Rich moments of the consulate: 'One cannot treat wealth as a title of nobility. A rich man is often a layabout without merit. A rich merchant is often only so by virtue of the art of selling expensively or stealing.'

Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight!

(I'm putting my money on Napoleon.) )

--

This is getting really long and I feel that I've not addressed anything in a useful manner, but am I going to stop? No.

--

Napoleon, himself, at least in 1803, did express some conflicted views about assuming an imperial title. To Roederer he said, 'So many great things have been achieved over the past three years under the title of consul. It should be kept.'

Cambaceres said to Napoleon that upon assuming an imperial title 'your position changes and places you at odds with yourself.' No longer are you merely a public servant, an upholder of the Republic's ideals. Now you are a man wearing a crown, trying to be the upholder of the Republic's ideals.

(nb: I feel that duality is something Napoleon never fully got a handle on. He would veer strongly into authoritarian monarch then have moments of Rousseau-ian Idealism.)

Napoleon was insistent that his rule be a parliamentary monarchy (keeping the governance framework implemented in the Constitution of Year VIII, if I am not mistaken. But don't quote me on that.) and that the French were not his subjects but his people.

So, the imperial government worked thus with the Legislative process divided between four bodies:

Council of State which would draw up legislative proposals,

Tribunate which could debate on legislation but not vote on it,

a legislative body which could vote on legislation but not discuss it, and

Senate which would consider whether the proposed legislation conformed to the Constitution.

The Senate and the Legislative body could, theoretically, curtail Napoleon’s freedom/power. However, considering the fact that he was involved in the appointment process of these offices, and the general rhythm of daily governance, how much power they were able to exert over him was limited.

(This is at his height! Of course, towards the end we see a shift in that. But that's largely tied up in his military defeats and the British banging the door knocker demanding to be let in. Also they brought with them some friends. You might have heard of them? Bourbons?)

The initial terms the Senate brought to Napoleon with their offer of accepting him as a hereditary monarch included, but weren't limited to:

liberty cannot be infringed

equality cannot be jeopardized

sovereignty of the people must be maintained

the laws of the nation are inviolable

all institutions were to be free from undue imperial influence (e.g. the press)

the nation should never be put into a position where it needs to behead the head of state. Again.

Napoleon was uh. Not best pleased with this and had a new version drafted up that included acknowledgement of the sovereignty of the people, but a lot of the other things (e.g. freedom of the press) were cut out.

Yet, Napoleon maintained certain parts of the French Revolution's values which were reflected more in the 1804 Code Napoleon and other legislative and legal pieces than in the initial terms of Senatorial acceptance of his imperial title.

Some of the things enshrined in the Code that were carry-over from the Revolution include, but aren't limited to, the abolition of feudalism, equality before the law, freedom of conscience (to practice their own religion), gave fixed title to those who had bought church and émigré lands during the 1790s, and the equality of taxation was maintained (tax those aristos and the church). Also, there was affirmation of the idea of careers being "open to talent" rather than an accident of birth (as touched on above).

The Freedom of Conscience clause in the Code was a further formalization of several Articles Napoleon amended onto the Concordat in 1802. The Articles guaranteed the principle of religious toleration and made the Protestant and Jewish churches similarly subject to state authority (alongside the Catholic).

These are just a brief summary of some of the more liberal/revolution-informed aspects of Napoleon's governing.

The non-liberal ones I believe we're all pretty familiar with: suppression of the free press, roll-back of rights for women (women are for babies!), reinstatement of slavery (which he later reversed circa 1810/12-ish), top-down Emperor-has-final-word approach to ruling (Napoleon was all about Authority From Above, Trust From Below) etc. etc.

At the end of this, I would say Napoleon's empire falls into that "benevolent monarch" situation. For a given value of "benevolent." As stated at the start, he was like most other monarchs in Europe at the time. Better than some, not as great about certain things as others.

--

Really, it all ties back to Order and Stability.

Napoleon's assent, and his approach to strong, centralized ruling, was a result of uncertainty and constant government change over ten years of revolution alongside the growing belief, by 1803, that a republic like the Romans or Greeks was not going to happen any time soon. Not without constant warfare and the forever looming threat of a Bourbon restoration.

In addition, Napoleon was doing imperial drag. (If that makes sense.) He was dialing the notch of Emperor up to 11 - being the most emperor of all emperors. So, state control was absolute because he couldn't show any signs of weakness - either in his own body, his familial body, or the body of state. The court protocols were intense and over-the-top at times because he had to prove he was not just a second son of a parvenu lawyer from the sticks. No! he was worthy of this pomp. He was worthy of imperial majesty. He was worthy of the crown and scepter.

Napoleon was not raised to be anything other than a military officer and a middle-class head of a family (would have been a MASTER at doing Sunday Dad Puttering About the House). When he dawned the mantel of power, particularly that of empire, he had to make it up as he went along. For such a self-conscious and proud man, this was difficult. He never wanted to misstep and be embarrassed - on a personal level, political or military.

At the same time, he was reared on Rousseau and Revolution so still had those values and ideals imbedded in him, and those fears and memories. Napoleon knew as well as any Frenchman that a monarch's head is easily removable should it become necessary. Therefore, he sometimes ran roughshod over the liberty to ensure security. For better or worse, that was the choice he made.

--

Napoleon was a flawed leader with a complex approach to governing that was focused on a centralization of power within him while, at the same time, trying to be the Successor of the Revolution, the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire. Layers! Like an onion.

His approach as emperor really was within the realm of normal-for-the-times when compared to most other monarchs on the European stage in 1800. He also granted liberties to his people that were unheard of in other countries.

I feel like all my Napoleonic ramblings end with the same message: Dude was nuanced. Dude was complex. Dude did good things and bad things. Dude helped people and hurt people. Dude contained multitudes. Because he was simply human, at the end of the day.

--

ANNNNNNND we are done.

Gods bless all y'all who made it this far.

Have my favourite picture of Napoleon at Tuileries as a prize.

hmm that beautiful heavy, handed symbolism.

[bondsmagii]

man those people dont care about kids at all actually. they act willfully ignorant and do shit like compare real trauma of actual children to drawings/words. I've seen them attack CSA/r*pe/abuse survivors and tell them they probably liked what happened to them bc of what they write. Seen them share/distribute real life CSEM bc they treat it the same as anime drawings. Seen them share graphic porn/nsfw accounts to masses of minors. they dont give a shit about protecting kids, its about control.

yeah, that's... that's something I've heard as well and I just cannot wrap my head around it. the QAnon people do it too -- they literally share explicit material of minors to "let everyone know what they should be looking out for", and I'm just like. oh my god. the cognitive dissonance required to do that and think you're helping?

anyway, with people like what my post was talking about, I've split them into three rough groups:

Group A is the rarest. these are people who actually do require warnings and are asking people to tag sincerely because it's something they need. they often don't cause too many problems because their tags are broad and common and most of them seem to accept the fact that if they are sensitive to certain things, certain places might be best avoided. these people are essentially people with peanut allergies who accept they can't go on the field trip to the peanut butter factory, and they don't mind too much because the fallout wouldn't be worth it.

Group B is the most common. these people will tag everything. they'll tag for major triggers, they'll tag for mentions, they'll tag for anything under the sun. they'll have something in their about or their carrd that lets people know they can ask to tag anything. they'll tag every aspect of a post "just to be safe". these people are out there tagging my real life experiences as "unreality", just because it's something they think sounds like something that should be tagged that. they don't often need things tagged themselves, but they pride themselves on their progressive attitude and tag everything religiously. it's performative for them. they want to be seen as the kind of person who cares. they're not actively causing harm, but they are contributing to it because they normalise the actions of...

Group C. these people are still a minority, but boy are they loud. they're the people railing against dark content, against AO3, against fictional everything. they're the people demanding creators show their credentials before they write something fucked up, and they're the people spending a lot of time debating about shit that does not matter at all. they're terminally online, lack any kind of critical thinking skills, and probably do not read anything particularly challenging if they read actual books at all. everything they consume is either fluffy and safe, or they're engaging with it "critically". they're the people in the tags of the shit you like telling you why you should hate yourself for liking it. they'll call you a racist or a paedophile at the drop of a hat, probably because you like a villain or something. these people are not in it for the good of anybody. they're always acting in the interest of a Mysterious Someone, despite the fact that when people belonging to those groups tell them they're being inappropriate, they'll be the first to accuse these people of lying or contributing to their own oppression or, yes, liking whatever abuse they suffered. these people are in it for nothing but power, and thanks to people like Group B, they've been given it in spades. they're now completely out of control, and despite their small numbers they've fostered a fearful environment where people will rather obey or stay quiet than get accused of the very nasty shit these people will pull out at a drop of a hat.

people in Group C are pretty much run-of-the-mill abusers. they thrive on power, and they get away with it because their cause looks good.

having said that, a final observation: Group C's number declined dramatically on Tumblr and rose dramatically on Twitter... right about the time of the NSFW ban. as is the way with this kind of thing -- those who yell about purity the loudest are often the nastiest.

[iridescentjin]

Summary: The summer that you meet Kim Taehyung proves to be a cruel summer. kth x reader

“I’m drunk in the back of the car, and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar. Said, “I’m fine”, but it wasn’t true. I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you. And I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate.” Taylor Swift - Cruel Summer

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: vaginal fingering, swearing, recreational alcohol use, protected and unprotected sex, impact play, light choking, everyone’s fingers in everyone’s mouths, smol amounts of exhibitionism, oral sex (f. receiving and m. receiving)

a/n: this is mostly just a story that I wrote a bunch of my friends into. Anyway, I didn’t even read it all the way through once. It could make no sense at all. It’s my your queen of not editing and not having someone beta read. I don’t remember who else I was supposed to tag. @moonpjms @glossyfever @onherwings @softguks​ @ot7always​

WC: 18K+

You pulled up your hood then firmly tucked your arms around yourself. You ducked your head as you ran across the street through the rain. The awnings covered most of the sidewalk, but the street was uncovered, rain splattering all over the black asphalt. The neon and LED lights from the shops bouncing off the wet ground, creating a constantly changing abstract art display. You felt yourself hesitate as you were coming upon the curb because you were entranced by the dancing colors.

Leaving work this late hadn’t been your plan today, but at least you’d come prepared with a jacket, knowing that the monsoon season tended to span most of the summer. You, however, had forgotten your umbrella at home. You admonished yourself in your brain for being such an airhead today, like always. Thank God for Find My iPhone, or you’d constantly be in trouble.

You look at the sidewalk ahead of you, still glinting with the lights from the shops and business, and you sighed in exasperation upon seeing the large sections ahead of you that had no awning. Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal, but you were supposed to meet friends tonight at a bar in Gangnam. You were already running behind, not to mention the 30 minutes on the train that you had ahead of you. Now, you also had to worry about looking like a drowned rat, with your hair falling stringy and wet around your face.

You stand at the edge of the awning as if you’re looking down a steep precipice for your inevitable end. You stand for one more second, close your eyes, and accept your fate. Before you can take a step into the downpour, someone clears their throat behind you. You turn quickly to see a tall man with dark shaggy hair standing a little too close to you. You can’t see most of his face because he’s wearing a mask and a hat with a bill, but his eyes are sparkling just like the lights off the wet pavement.

“You look like maybe you could use an umbrella,” he says, and you can tell just from his tone that he has a smile on his face.

Normally, you wouldn’t accept help from a strange man on the street, but it’s raining and you’re late.

You sigh and say, reluctantly, “Are you going anywhere near Saetgang station?”

He shifts his weight in an energetic kind of way. “As a matter of fact, I happen to be going to Saetgang station.”

He shifts his umbrella to his left hand and holds it over you more than himself. You walk with your shoulders touching, and after about 2 minutes, he talks. He isn’t looking at you, but you still know it’s for you because no one else is around.

“You can just call me Tae, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks,” you pause, unsure if you want to give him any more information about yourself than you have to; stranger danger and all that. “I’m y/n.”

“Y/n? That’s an unusual name for around here.”

“Well, I’m originally from the States, but I moved here when I was very young. My dad worked at the consulate and my mother was an English teacher, so I’ve been here most of my life.” You realize the insane amount of detail you’ve just given him, and you shake your head at yourself. To shift focus, you snap, “Besides, Tae isn’t that common for around here anyway. If you were traditional Korean, wouldn’t your name be three syllables? Whoever heard of a traditional ‘just call me Tae.”

“Hey! Come on. I’ve got a Korean name. I would just like to have a tiny bit of anonymity, thank you very much. Not all of us are open books, Ms. my-father-works-for-the-consulate.”

“Worked.” Your tone drops, and you keep your head down as you see the stairs down to the subway before you. You thank the universe or God or whoever was listening to the shouting in your head for the awkward interaction to be over.

As soon as you are down the stairs and out of the rain, you thank him and try to scurry off. Hopefully you’ll never have to see that jerk again.

You swipe your transportation card and make your way to the platform to wait for the next train. The train from Yeoui-dong to Gangnam comes every 12 minutes, and you have the times memorized in your head. The last train had come at 7:11pm. You look down at your watch. 7:22pm. Perfect timing you think to yourself. Despite being slowed down slightly by just-call-me-Tae, you were still perfectly on time.

When the train arrives, you clamber inside around the car stuffed with bodies. You find a place to grab the railing overhead and cast your eyes at the floor of the car. It’s best to avoid eye contact on the train.

After the first stop, the people inside shift around, and the shoes in front of you now are not the same as the last pair. The person before you before was wearing black shoes, the kind that are so shiny that you could see your reflection in them. These shoes are slip on loafers with a little decorative metal clasps on top. Something about them is familiar. Oh shit.

You draw your eyes up the slender frame before you, and you take in the muscles on his chest that you hadn’t noticed before. When you finally look at his face, he has a smug, amused grin showing his teeth. You roll your eyes, and then your heart speeds up.

“Are you following me? What do you want? I don’t have any money.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Oh my god! No! We just happened to be on the same train! I’m meeting friends at SAHM in Gangnam, I promise!”

The panic in his tone makes you want to trust him, but you still remain wary. As his words set in, you roll your eyes again.

“Seriously? SAHM? Are you kidding me call-me-Tae?”

You know you didn’t tell him where you were going except to the station, but the fact that he says he’s going to the same bar as you seems too crazy to be coincidence.

“Yes?” he says, the surprise wiped from his face to be replaced by confusion.

“Why?” you ask to yourself in exasperation.

The train stops, and people shuffle around the car. You get pushed a little closer to the man in front of you, and you feel your cheeks redden.

“Well, my friend is hanging out with his girlfriend and her friends tonight, and they invited me and some other friends too.” He’s confused, and you want to call him an idiot for not realizing that the question wasn’t directed toward him.

He reaches into the pocket on his long, sweeping tan coat. You recoil ever so slightly from the unexpected movement.

He plucks his phone from his pocket and holds it toward you. “Dude, relax,” he laughs. “I’m not stalking you. I’m not going to murder you. You’re fine. I see you clutching that pepper spray. Use it if you need, but maybe just not in the confined train car.”

You become aware of the fact that your hand is in your purse, gripping your pepper spray, and you feel a little embarrassed. You mutter an apology.

“Look.” He holds his phone out to you.

Very clearly in the group chat he shows you are several people making plans to meet up at SAHM tonight. You roll your eyes again.

“If you keep doing that, they’re gonna get stuck like that.”

Every moment with this man is more embarrassing than the last, and you cannot wait for the ride to be over. Only one more stop before yours, and you can get off the train, mosey around the station for an inconspicuous amount of minutes before going to SAHM to meet your friends.

You ride the rest of the way to Gangnam with your eyes on anything but that embarrassing man, and he doesn’t push the conversation any further.

When the doors open, just-call-me-Tae bows slightly and says it was nice to meet you. Then he disappears into the sea of people in the station.

It’s about 30 minutes later when you finally make it to the bar, and you see your friends across the crowded space. The place has a kind of rustic feel to it, lots of wood and exposed brick. It reminds you of the hipster bars back in the states when you visited family last summer, and your cousin, Lindy, had insisted that you just had to try the new bar in town. You had a good time, but those fancy hipster drinks were stronger than you thought. You’d ended up drunk, flirting with the bartender. You even started an argument with Lindy when she refused to let you go home with a stranger in a country that you didn’t know well or speak the language perfectly.

You wriggle through the crowded bar to make your way to your friends. You smile at the sight of them all laughing and drinking together. Your friend, Rey, has her arm around the waist of a guy a little taller than her, who has a mask and a cap on, covering most of his face. You assume it’s her boyfriend, who she talks about non-stop but rarely goes into detail about.

Once you reach them, you see your friends’ beautiful faces and smile. They’re all gathered around a tall table, drinking and talking loudly. You say hello to all of your friends, hugging Rey last.

“y/n, this is Jimin. I’ve told you a little bit about him,” she shouts over the loud bar sounds, beaming up at him. She’s so precious when she’s in love.

She’s talked vaguely about Jimin for a long time, and you aren’t totally sure what his job is. You know that he travels a lot for work and that sometimes Rey goes with him. You know that she never says exactly where he lives or who his friends are or anything like that. She’s so smitten that you are so excited to finally meet him.

“Hi, Jimin. I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

You shake his hand and exchange pleasantries. His eyes are the only part of his face that you can really see, but they are full of light and excitement and joy. You feel overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness in your chest just from meeting your friend's boyfriend.

“y/n, I brought some of my friends along. Everyone else has already met them, but I’d love to introduce you.”

Jimin’s friends are all gathered together, talking and drinking. Jimin pulls each of them over to introduce them, the smile in his eyes shining above the mask. He finally pulls over a man with white shirt, when he turns, it’s undeniable that the face before you is the same one that you’d hoped to never see before. Luckily, you’re drunk and having fun, so you feel a little more relaxed.

“This is my best friend, Tae,” says Jimin. Tae shakes each of your hands, and when he gets to you, he hesitates as he says, “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m y/n,” you say, with snark dripping off your tongue.

“y/n? That’s such a unique and beautiful name.”

You blush a little bit, and you’re not sure why. You know he’s just making a joke, making up for what he said before. The alcohol pulsing through your body leaves you feeling a little hazy as you realize that you’ve been holding his handshake for too long. You yank your hand away from him and rub your cheek gently.

You turn from him and make your way back over to your friends. “y/n, you are so red!” exclaims Ahhyun.

You duck your head and cover your face with your hands. You’re just red because you’re embarrassed by Tae nothing else. You throw back the rest of your drink and track down the server to get another one.

After a few drinks, you are feeling silly and giggly with your friends. Everyone, including Jimin’s friends, decides to play a game around the table, and everyone is giggling and drinking. You’ve missed nights out with your friends like this, and for some reason, you keep finding yourself next to Tae.

Someone suggests that you all play suck and blow because apparently you aren’t actual adults with real jobs and retirement accounts. At least not tonight. You end up next to your friend Seoyeon on one side and Tae on the other. As the card goes around, you look up at Tae thinking about the fact that he has yet to remove the mask from his face. He sneaks the straw from his drink up under the bottom and drinks. You laugh to yourself at the silliness of it all.

“Are you going to be able to play with that mask on?” you ask him pointedly.

“Of course. You have no idea how strong my skills are.” He giggles and sets his drink on the table.

You finish your drink, and you feel that fuzzy feeling in your head that tells you that it’s probably time for some water. You watch the group pass the card from one person to another. Jinhee intentionally drops the card as she turns to her girlfriend, Ash, an adorable girl who is studying abroad in Seoul. You feel yourself blush as they kiss, and you melt a little bit more. You’re such a hopeless romantic, and love makes you so soft.

You get the card from Seoyeon and turn to Tae. He tries his hardest to hold the card against his mouth with his mask on, but it falls. Everyone laughs as he keeps his face close to yours.

“Oops,” he whispers. His tone hints that maybe it wasn’t an accident, but you can’t tell.

Suddenly, your mind is full of the image of you pulling down his mask and kissing his lips hard, tasting the sweet alcohol on his tongue. You want to put your hands in his hair and pull his hat off. His shirt is loose, and you long to see the shape of his chest underneath it. His collarbones are poking out of the top of his shirt, and you can see how perfectly your mouth would fit on them.

You are completely lost in the lustful thoughts when someone drops a glass on the floor, and it shatters. You realize the thoughts that you’ve been having, and you feel like the heat immediately shooting into your cheeks again. You decide to head to the bathroom to try to rinse your face with cold water. Maybe it will sober you up and keep these thoughts about Tae out of your head.

You splash the water on your face and wash your hands. This is the first time that you’ve looked in the mirror since before you walked in the rain, and you can see that your hair, while not as bad as it could be, is windblown and messy. Your fingers fumble through your hair until you get it slightly more presentable. You rinse your face once more, trying to wash away the redness in your face from the drinks.

When you stumble slightly as you exit the bathroom, and you trip slightly and grab onto the arm of the man that you trip into. You look up, and a tall gruff looking man is looking down at you.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” you mutter and try to slip away from him.

“Where are you going, cutie? You didn’t even introduce yourself yet,” he says as he grabs your wrist.

“Look, I should really get back to my friends.” You’re panicking a little, and you try to wiggle your wrist free of his grasp.

“Ah, honey, won’t you stay and chat a while with me?” he starts to pull you closer to him, and you yank your wrist away from him.

“Oh goodness, darling, there you are. I’ve been looking for you,” a male voice announces from behind you. When you whip your head around, Tae is standing there.

You scoot closer to him and grab his hand. “Sorry, babe, I didn’t mean to get lost. It’s just so crowded in here. I lost direction.”

The man who had been trying to get you to stay with him looks disgruntled as Tae pulls you into his side. Before he can say anything, Tae pulls the mask down from his face and the bill of his hat up a bit to reveal the absolutely gorgeous face before you. There’s something super familiar about it that you can’t quite place. Upon seeing his face, the guy mumbles some apologies and skulks away.

“Really? Your face scared him? That pretty thing?” you ask, drunker than you felt a minute ago.

Tae laughs and pulls his mask back up. Then something clicks in your brain. You’ve seen that face before in the subway, all over the television, all over the internet. Oh fuck.

“Thanks. I have to go,” you blurt out and slink away from him.

“Wait!” he shouts after you, but you keep moving through the crowd to your friends.

When you get to the table where you’d all been gathered and grab your bag. You say a quick goodbye to Ahhyun, seeing that Rey and Jimin are way too wrapped up in each other to notice. You slip out the front door onto the cool, wet sidewalk. Luckily, the rain has stopped, so you can walk briskly toward your apartment, your shoes slapping against the wet pavement.

When you’re a little way away from the bar, you slow your walk slightly, trying to process what just happened. Tae, who is an idol, had just attempted to protect your honor in public. Why was he even there? Shouldn’t he be...dancing or something?

You’re not sure why you’re so angry at him just for being who he is. Your ego is a little bruised in that you thought this guy might actually be interested in you, but there was no way that someone like him was going to be interested in someone like you. You’d seen the female idols and movie stars; he could have anyone he wanted.

You shake your head to try to get the image of him with a beautiful super model, laughing about the girl at the bar who flirted with him like a child by being mean to him. The sound of feet on the wet sidewalk pulls your attention away from your thoughts. You turn around, and you cannot believe your eyes. Tae is walking briskly toward you.

“You’re kidding me, right?” you blurt out, hoping he isn’t within earshot.

“Look, I know we don’t really know each other, but I felt like I connected with you in a way that I haven’t with other people,” he huffs out. “Plus, you didn’t look at me differently when you saw my face. I mean...you did, but it was almost disappointment on your face. You have to know how rare that is for me, right?”

You feel the corners of your mouth tugging back. You didn’t want to admit how beautiful you thought he was or that you thought his sense of humor was funny, but it was true. You were glad that he was here because the way it felt to stand next to him was warm and real.

“I just don’t really know what you want from me,” you say as you turn your face away from him.

There’s no way that a famous idol is standing in front of you telling you that your disappointment made him feel good. You shake your head again.

“Just...hang out with me. Just one time. It will be casual, and I don’t expect anything from you, but it’s worth it to me to try to see if we can even have a friendship. I like you. I think you’re funny.”

You blush and push your hair behind your ear. You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to slow your thoughts. You don’t want anything about your life to be in the spotlight; you don’t want to be seen in public with an idol. You don’t want to have sasaeng fans who wish death upon you for just being near their “one true love.”

“I don't know. The kind of attention you get isn’t the kind that I want in my life. I don’t want everyone in Korea knowing who I am.”

His eyes drop slightly, and his shoulders sink a little lower. “You won’t have to have that kind of attention. We have ways to make sure that you aren’t seen. We can be really careful. Come over tomorrow. We can have dinner, and I can show you that you don’t have to be in the spotlight.”

You pause and sigh. “Fine.”

You can see the smile in his eyes, and you fish your phone out of your bag. You open Kakaotalk and hand it to him. He sends himself a message and hands it back to you.

“Trust me. This is going to be fun,” he says.

“I hope so. I gotta get home though. Have a goodnight, Tae,” you mutter awkwardly.

“Thanks, y/n. I will. Thanks.”

He walks away quickly, and he turns back and looks over his shoulder once before you turn and walk away from him toward home, smiling to yourself.

*****

“Kim Taehyung!”

The shout greets Tae in the hallway as he makes his way toward the practice room the next morning. He has a little bit of a headache from drinking too much, but he doesn’t let that get him down. Tae still feels the way that it felt to hold your hand in the bar. He doesn’t want to be dramatic or anything, but he feels like you might be his soulmate. He would never say that out loud though.

The voice down the hall belongs to his manager, Minjoon, who is looking at him with disappointment in his eyes.

"Kim Taehyung, I cannot believe that you slipped your team again and spent the whole night out. At a bar, Tae? Really? What if you'd been seen? What if you'd been mobbed by people?"

Tae smiles at him, with the dreamy look still in his eyes. "But I wasn't. And Jimin was out too!"

Minjoon rolls his eyes at Tae and leads him away by the wrist.

"Yes, but Jimin took the proper precautions, and he took Beomseok with him."

Tae rolls his eyes and begins to walk away. "I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again."

His manager lets him walk away, and he feels a damper starting to fall on his good mood that he thought that nothing could ruin. He makes his way to the practice room and flops down on the floor. Jimin is in there practicing hard in the mirror, hair pushed back off of his forehead and sweat shining on his brow. He ignores Tae for a couple of minutes, focused on getting the correct moves down. Finally, he looks up and sees the lump that is Tae lying on the floor.

"What's wrong with you? I thought you had a good night last night?"

Tae flops over again, so he's turned toward the mirror, looking at Jimin's reflection in the eyes. He brings his hand up and runs it through his hair. He lets the memory of your scent sink into his brain for a moment.

"Sometimes I just get so sick of not being able to be a normal 24 year-old. Not have to take security everywhere. Not worry about the spotlight. Don't you?" he asks, feeling the desperation in his voice.

"Of course I do. My relationship would be so much easier if I was able to just be a normal guy, but I chose this life. I think that Rey loves me, so she knows that this is the way that things have to be. It can be hard some days, but it's the way it is. Plus, Minjoon-ssi shouldn't have yelled at you. Beomseok hyung was there."

Jimin walks across the room to where Tae is lying on the floor. He encourages him to stand up, and when he finally gets Tae off the floor, Jimin heads to the boombox and puts on the song "My My My" by Troye Sivan. Jimin starts dancing silly all around the room, beckoning Tae to come dance with him. Soon Tae is laughing with him, and the two are singing loudly and dancing wildly around the room. When the other members come into the room, Yoongi rolls his eyes, and Hoseok joins in dancing.

After practice, while they have time to eat lunch, Tae decides to go ahead and shoot his shot. He opens KakaoTalk and pulls up your messages. The only thing in there is a message from him to himself.

Hey, y/n, I was wondering if maybe you'd want to come over for dinner tomorrow?

Now, all that he can do is wait. Wait for you to read it. Wait for you to decide. Wait for you to respond. Even though his schedule is very busy lately with press and practices, he feels like waiting for you has been the most important thing that he's waited for in a long time.

As he waits, he eats his Kimbap quietly. Namjoon comes up to him and sits next to him.

"Hey, Tae, are you all right?" he asks gently.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You've been really distracted all day. Just kind of smiling into space."

Tae takes a moment to think back to his effort in practice earlier, and he realizes that his hangover and daydreams have made him noticeably less engaged than usual. Shit.

"I'm sorry, Namjoon-hyung. I will get my head back into it." He hangs his head slightly as he says it. Maybe having you come over tomorrow was not the best idea.

Namjoon sighs and wraps his arm around Tae's shoulders. "Hey, I know how you get. Just...don't put everything into this one person, okay?"

Before Tae can question it, Namjoon has gotten up to take his bowl to the staff before they start work again. He turns and looks at Tae one more time before he leaves the room to head to the studio. Tae sighs deeply and throws his head back on his shoulders. What am I even doing? he thinks to himself.

Your name shows up on his screen when he's all but resigned himself to not hearing from you. When he opens the message, he doesn’t know what else he had expected from you.

Fine.

His heart leaps slightly in his chest at the thought of it, and he smiles at his phone. Instantly, his mind is darting between all the things he wants to do and all the arrangements that he wants to make for you. For the rest of the day, he feels like he works hard enough to make up for how much he was dragging in the morning.

*******

Be ready at 8:00. I'll send a car for you.

That's not ominous at all you think to yourself. You weren't sure if this was a good idea, but you suppose if anyone can figure out how to sneak around fans and paparazzi, it's the famous idol who simply rode the subway with you last night.

You curl your hair slightly and slap on a small amount of makeup. You don't want to look like you tried too hard, but you didn't want to look like a total schlub either. When you look at yourself in the mirror, you actually are impressed. Trying not to look too long, you pull yourself away from your reflection as you start scrutinizing that your eyeliner is slightly uneven on each side. The last time that you'd done that, you had ended up with half of each of your eyelids covered in black liquid liner, and you'd had to remove the entire look at start over.

You had sent Tae your address the day before, so you assumed that you should just wait outside for the driver. The elevator ride down from your apartment is long and slow. You realize how mildewy and old the elevator smells, even though your building was built in the 80s. When the doors of the elevator slide open, you see a black town car with black tinted windows sitting in front of the front doors of your building.

You had never seen a car with such dark tint on the windows, but this must be the kind of car that Tae has to ride in all of the time to avoid being seen. You walk up to the car, your flats making your steps nearly silent through the lobby. You see your reflection in the pitch black car. A white crop top and a purple pair of cut off shorts with flats on your feet. The outfit had seemed like a perfect summer outfit that flattered all the right parts of your body without looking like you were trying too hard to be fancy or dressed up for a "date."

For all you knew, this wasn't even a date. It was just two people hanging out. While you were lost in thought, the driver of the car came around and stood next to the rear door.

"Miss y/n?" he asked in such a formal tone, that you felt taken aback. No one ever talked to you so formally. You were the youngest in your team at work, and you were so used to being everyone's dongsaeng that you didn't know what to do with all the respect he was giving you.

"Yes, thank you," you blurt out awkwardly.

He opens the door for you, and you clamber in. The ride is almost 45 minutes with traffic, there's always traffic in Seoul. You have plenty of time to think about all the ways that this could go wrong. Think about how you're going to see your face on all the gossip sites tomorrow. You hardly let yourself relax or breathe as you sit in the car. Maybe it won't be so bad. Or maybe it will be a nightmare.

Finally, the car reaches the first gate of an apartment complex, and the driver gives the man at the gate his idea. The security office records it in a big binder and waves him on.

"You'll need to get out your ID for the second gate, miss," he says back to you.

You fish your ID out of your bag and hand it up to him as he pulls up to the second gate. He hands the IDs to the security officer, who enters the information into his computer and wishes you both a good night. Wow. You didn't know what you expected, but it wasn't this. It makes sense though.

The car pulls into the garage, and after parking, the driver leads you through the concrete labyrinth. You have to check in at the front desk too and be led by someone else in a black suit to the elevator and up to the apartment.

When you get to the door, he knocks in a unique pattern and waits a moment before Tae swings the door open.

"y/n! Hi!" he exclaims. He is beaming, and the smile spread across his face is infectious.

Shit. He's so beautiful.

He leads you into the apartment where there is a chef in the kitchen who barely looks up at you. There is one man sitting in the living room, and no one else to be seen. The man on the couch turns around and grins at you, popping up out of his seat. His eyes scrunch up slightly as he smiles at you. Shit. He's so beautiful too.

"Hi, I'm Jungkook," he says as he extends his hand out to you.

You shake it, blushing. "hi, I'm y/n."

Tae seems to see the blush in your cheeks, and he puts his body slightly between you and Jungkook. You smile to yourself at the possessiveness and jealousy that he seems to feel for his roommate.

"Jungkook was just leaving. Weren't you?"

You laugh out loud at the obvious "hint" that Tae is trying to drop. Jungkook laughs too, and the two of you make eye contact.

"Actually, I wasn't. I was just going to hang out and watch TV for a little while." He gives Tae a teasing look, and Tae flushes from his neck up to his cheeks. There's a small pleading look in his eye. It must be hard for him because his whole life is surrounded by people, even though some of them are his friends.

"Oh, you know what? I actually told Laur that I would call her tonight, and I should probably go do that because I love her." Jungkook trails off slightly, making long hard eye contact with Tae. "it was nice to meet you, y/n. Have fun!"

Jungkook disappears into one of the doors down the hall. You turn to Tae after you watch Jungkook make his way away from you. Tae has a slightly hurt look in his eyes, but he tries to hide it from you with a smile.

"What? What's wrong?" you ask.

"No. Nothing. I just don't want you to feel like you can't hang out with the other members if you want to."

You grab the sides of his face and make him look at you. "I'm here for you. I agreed to hang out with you, not them."

He smiles at this and leads you to the couch. It's a huge sectional that takes up most of the room, and you follow his lead in sitting right in the middle, leaving a little space between the two of you. You are still hesitant and don't know him well. You aren't trying to cuddle up on the couch with him just yet.

He grabs the remote to turn on the TV. On the screen are the titles of literally hundreds of movies.

"We can watch whatever you want," he says in a more normal and steady tone than you've heard from him since you were on the train.

"Why don't you pick?"

He smiles huge, and from the look in his eyes as he reads each of the titles, he is in his element. Ultimately, he selects Midnight In Paris. Before he hits play, he looks at you to confirm his decision. You nod toward him gently and smile up at him. He's taller than you remember, even sitting next to you.

You watch the movie, laughing along at Owen Wilson, until the chef in the kitchen announces that food is ready. He graciously brings it to you, and there is so much to choose from you don't know what to choose. Kimchi jjigae, oi kimchi, samgyeopsal, galbi, and tons of other food are spread out on the coffee table in front of you.

"I don't know what you like...so I told him to just make some of everything. I figured you can't go wrong with the staples."

Tae sounds nervous, but it looks amazing. There's no way you could pass up a meal like this. The two of you lean over the table, watching the movie and laughing, and eat way more food than you had planned on eating.

Once you're finished, you lean back onto the couch, certain that you're going to fall asleep. Already, this has been so nice, but you realized that you've hardly talked to Tae at all. Your plan was to come here and get to know Tae better to decide if spending time with him was worth the struggle.

When the movie ends, Tae turns to you to ask what you think of the movie. You hesitate for a second.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it, but...Woody Allen?” you know you shouldn’t be starting into it the first time you’re hanging out.

His jaw drops slightly, but after a brief discussion, he agrees that it’s hard to separate the art from the artist and there are amazing directors who haven’t done even half of the terrible shit he did. You were impressed with his maturity, and you decided that you’d definitely give him a chance.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asks as you sit awkwardly in silence after that discussion.

You can’t think of a single reason that you should say no, and a glass of wine sounds delicious. “Yeah,” you smile. “Why not?”

Tae heads into the kitchen, and when he returns, you laugh at the comical size of the wine glass. It is roughly the size of your head, and even though it’s only half full, it is roughly the amount of two or three glasses of wine. 

“What? These are the only glasses we have,” he laughs along with you as he sets them down.

After you’ve had the entirety of one glass of wine, you are feeling lighter and looser and less awkward. You forget about the fact that Tae is one of the most famou men in the country, and you are just hanging out with your friend. The two of you talk about your childhoods and exchange embarrassing stories from high school.

You don’t feel yourself scooting closer to Tae, or maybe he’s scooting closer to you. His face is just a few inches from your face by the time you realize it, but you don’t want to move away from him.

“I’ve had a really good time with you, tonight, y/n,” he whispers, leaning even closer to you.

You can feel his breath on your lips, and you can smell his skin and his breath. The smell of the Cabernet mixed with lavender and vanilla, and it’s more intoxicating than any drink that you’ve had. The condensation his hot breath leaves on your lips makes your skin tingle. 

“I’ve had such a wonderful time, Tae.”

You close even more of the space between the two of you. There’s less than an inch in between your mouths. You can’t stop your lips from darting down to his mouth. Shit. He’s so beautiful. His mouth is a perfect pout with his pillowy lips tinted slightly darker red from the wine. When you look back up at him, his eyes are on your mouth too. You can see him tracing every curve of your lips. Your heart pounds in your ears at the thought of kissing him, touching him.

Tae moves to close the distance between the two of you. Your lips ghost across each other, but before you can fully feel the rose petals of his, you hear a key in the lock. You feel like a teenager being caught by your parents, so you jump back from him, putting at least a foot of space between you and Tae.

Tae turns toward the door and the gorgeous, thin-framed man coming through the door. Behind him is a tall, blonde girl who is stunning. Tae’s face is flushed from the wine and the embarrassment of the moment.

“Hi Yoongi-hyung,” Tae mutters as he averts his eyes. “Hi Soph.”

The man hardly acknowledges Tae, but the woman sends a warm smile Tae’s way. “Hi, Tae! How’s your date?”

Your eyes widen at the word date, and you choke slightly on the breath that you were taking in at the moment. Her eyes dart toward you, and she immediately turns pink. She immediately becomes awkward, and Yoongi turns toward her and laughs at the blush in her cheeks.

“Well, this has been sufficiently uncomfortable.” Yoongi turns to you. “Hi, I’m Yoongi. This is my girl, Soph.”

“Hi. I’m y/n, and I am, indeed, sufficiently uncomfortable.”

Yoongi laughs and then leads Soph down the same hallway that Jungkook disappeared into, entering a different door.

After they’ve been out of sight for a moment, you turn back to Tae and say, “I should actually probably head out,” rubbing your arm awkwardly, still warm in your cheeks.

Tae calls the car for you, and a few minutes later, the rhythmic little knock on the door tells you it’s time to go. Tae walks you to the door, and before it opens, he leans in and presses his lips to your cheek. A huge smile spreads across your face, and you’re sure the security agent can tell that something just happened between the two of you.

On the way out of the gates, you can see through the tinted windows the young women gathered around outside of the gates in a contained area. They are holding signs and wearing t-shirts with Tae’s name and face on them. It gives you an uneasy feeling in your stomach, but once you’re past them, you can’t help the warm feeling that is bubbling inside of you from the night.

*****

“You didn’t even kiss her?” Jimin asks, exasperated as he sits on the couch next Tae. The two sip wine together while the television plays in the background.

Tae groans and throws his head back, hand on his forehead. “I tried, but Yoongi-hyung ruined it. He came in right when I was going to.”

Jimin starts giggling uncontrollably, eyes shut tight. His laugh is infectious, and no matter how much Tae doesn’t want to laugh at his own misery, he can’t help but laugh that of course it was Yoongi who interrupted. Any of the other members would have been cool about it, but Yoongi just had to make a sarcastic comment. The two laugh for a long time, the wine pulsing through their veins. Taehyung feels grateful that they don’t have to work early tomorrow, but this was not the end to the night that he had hoped for.

Taehyung had an image in his head of him kissing you, fingers laced into your hair. He imagined what it would feel like to have your lips against his, the smoothness of them and how pert they are. You would have leaned closer to him and run your fingers over his neck. He would have slowly moved his hand up your leg, feeling your skin up to the frayed hem of your shorts.

Tae feels himself hardening in his loose linen pants and adjusts himself awkwardly. The thing about these loose flowy pants is that while sitting down, they don’t hide anything. He looks over to make sure that Jimin didn’t see, and when he’s confident that he didn’t, he relaxes slightly.

“I’m going to though,” he states.

“You’re going to what?” Jimin asks.

“I’m going to kiss her. I’m going to make her mine.” A smile stretches across his lips, and he sinks back into the couch to watch the rest of the show with Jimin.

*******

Three weeks after hanging out at Tae’s, you are sitting at your desk looking over an expense report that someone messed up the spreadsheet for. Everything in one of the columns is one row off, and you are trying to fix it and all of the equations.Your phone vibrates next to you, and you welcome the distraction from the tedious work.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you see Tae’s name appear on the screen. Though you hadn’t seen him in person since the day that you went to his place, you were able to text everyday and video chat a few times. Things with Tae felt simple, like he was your oldest friend in the world. You couldn’t believe how well he knew you even after such a short time of knowing you.

Tae: Tonight?

What a vague message. What did he want tonight? To video chat? To hang out? For you to do your laundry?

You: Tonight will be Thursday night, yes.

You are always a little sassy with him, and he dishes it right back. The dynamic that you’ve built between the two of you is natural. You’re pretty sure this what people mean when they say that two people have chemistry, though you’ve never really understood the expression.

Tae: Oh thank goodness. I thought it was Saturday, and I’m busy Saturday.

Tae: Since it’s Thursday, do you want to hang out tonight?

You smile. You’ve been looking forward to seeing Tae since the last time, and you want to be able to pick up where you’d left off before Yoongi had interrupted the two of you. After video chatting with Tae several times, you learned that’s just sort of Yoongi’s M.O. if he interrupts anything. Be awkward and sarcastic then move on. A solid technique.

You: I guess I can pencil you in.

Tae: Excellent. Be ready at 6.

You look at the clock, and it reads 3:30pm. You only have 2.5 hours before you’re supposed to do god knows what with Tae, and you know that you are not looking your best. You figure you can leave at 4:00 if your boss doesn’t see you and you ask Aecha to cover for you.

When she agrees, you thank her profusely, slip your purse off the back of your chair, and head out the door. You get out without any trouble and walk briskly toward your apartment building. Your head is swimming with the idea of seeing Tae and the possibilities for the evening. You’re trying not to get too ahead of yourself, but all you can see in your mind’s eye is the shape of his body.

It’s been months since you were even interested in a man. You’re most recent ex, Yongsoon, had been a delightful man, but he was so boring and predictable. You never felt challenged by him. You never felt like he was that passionate about anything. You’d ended things, and even during the break up, he’d seemed so apathetic about the whole thing.

Tae didn’t feel like that. He was bright and vibrant. He had so many passions, from art to film to fashion. He made you feel like you could shine as bright, reach as high as you wanted. He also made you feel like you wanted to see what was underneath his whole clothes.

You shake your head as you unlock the door to your apartment. Stop being lustful, y/n! You rush around your apartment, trying to make your hair and make up look better. You decide that tonight, you’d like to wear a skirt. In the heat of mid June, you wanted to be able to move freely. Plus you loved the way that your black skater skirt swished when you walked or twirled. On top, you wear a purple shirt, tied up at the waist.

When your phone turns over to 6:00, you take one last look in the mirror, grab your bag, and try not to sprint down the stairs. Outside, once again, you can see the black town car with tinted windows waiting for you. The sight of it makes your heart leap a little, and you smile again. Everything about Tae makes you smile.

The driver meets you at the rear door, and he lets you into the vehicle. Expecting it to be empty, you jump a little upon seeing a figure inside. Sitting on the driver's side seat, Tae is wearing black slacks, a button up shirt, and beret-type hat. He has his mask pulled down around his chin, and he’s beaming at you. You climb in next to him, mumbling a hello as you get comfortable.

“Didn’t expect me to be here, did you?” he asks, with a sly grin on his face.

“I honestly didn’t know what to expect. You just told me to be ready. You didn’t even tell me what.”

He laughs, amused at his own vagueness. “It’s best if you only know what you need to know.”

“Well, can I know where we’re going now?”

He smirks at you and then announces, “We’re going to Ihwa Mural Village!”

He can’t be serious. A public place? While it’s light outside? With an idol? You start to panic as you think about all the possibilities of things that could go wrong. He could get rushed by people. You could get hurt. He could get hurt. It was far too risky.

Seeing the panic in your eyes, he blurts, “Don’t worry! I went the safe route this time. I have security who are going to be there, and we should be in the clear. They’ve cleared it out for a filming. We did everything we needed to keep us safe.”

You relax slightly, but you still know that people crowd around movie sets and things like that on the street. You know that Tae would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but you are terrified.

“Hey,” he grabs your hand and squeezes it with his. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

The feeling of his warm palm in yours is comforting and feels like home. You wiggle your fingers slightly, just to take in the sensation of each of his between each of yours. 

“Okay. I trust you,” you mutter, trying to believe your own words.

The car pulls up into an area that you’ve seen before and know is usually crowded. This time, there are only three men outside, all wearing black jeans. Tae pulls up his mask and pulls down the brim of his hat. You pull your mask over your face, wishing you’d known to bring a hat with you today, but hoping everything would be fine.

After a while of walking on the deserted street, looking at murals, making jokes, and taking pictures, you get lost in the moment with Tae. You let yourself breathe into the way that his hand feels in yours, the warmth of his body next to yours. His scent is soft and subtle, just like him.

After about an hour of walking around Ihwa, he asks if you’re hungry. You smile broadly at him, but quickly realize that half of your face is covered with cloth. 

“Yes, I am starving!” you exclaim, feeling the hunger pangs in your stomach for the first time. You had been so distracted with Tae that you forgot that you hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Tae laughs, and he leads you back to where the car was parked. The driver lets both of you into the car, and Tae thanks him by name. He slides over to the seat in the middle and wraps his fingers around your knee while you ride together. You feel him slowly creeping closer to you, and you know that if you turn it’s all over. Isn’t this what you want?

While driving through a tunnel, you turn your face to see Tae’s. His eyes are searching your face, and you can’t resist it anymore. You move toward him and press your lips to his. It’s soft and sweet, and he moves his mouth slowly, positioning his bottom lip between yours. You shift slightly, so you can turn toward him more. He wraps his hands into your hair, running his fingers along your scalp. Your hand traces its way over his shirt along his collarbone. You can feel the heat growing between your legs, but you become aware of the third person in the car.

You pull away, panting slightly, and drop your head, cheeks burning. You can’t wipe the stupid grin off of your face if you wanted to, but you don’t care because the way that Tae’s mouth felt against yours is burned into your brain forever. You’ll never forget how he melted like chocolate on your lips. Or how he tickled your scalp just right while his exhales made the peach fuzz on your face stand on end. Your senses feel heightened after kissing him, and you know that you want to do it again.

The two of you ride the rest of the way in silence, with your fingers entwined on top of your knee, and you can’t help but think that this is maybe the beginning of something wonderful.

When you get to the gate of the apartment complex, you try not to look at the crowd of people who are wondering if Tae is in fact inside this car. You pull your ID out of your wallet, and Tae pushes your hand down.

“You only have to do that when you aren’t with me.”

Once inside, he leads you to the apartment. Before he opens the door, he turns you around to face him. You’re looking up at his perfect face. He is so smooth and symmetrical, and you feel so homely next to him. He plants his hands on the wall behind either side of your head, and he leans down to you. He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead. Then the nose. Then each cheek. Then the lips. It’s so soft and sweet that you think you’re going to melt or explode or both.

He unlocks the door and leads you inside. In the kitchen, a chef is preparing food again.

“Dude, how do you do that?” you gawk at the man working in the kitchen.

“Do what?” He follows your eye line and laughs. “Oh, Bonhwa-ssi? I texted in the car. He works for us, and he’s the greatest guy ever.”

Bonhwa looks at the two of you briefly, then he goes back to chopping and preparing. You can see that this meal is a little different from the last one, but you are so excited to eat anything that your mouth starts to water.

The two of you hang out at the dining room table until Bonhwa brings over the hamburgers and sides he’s prepared. Tae is smiling at his food, and you get to see him just as he is. One bite in, and you know that you’ve never had a hamburger this good before. You try to force yourself not to eat too fast, but you can only restrain yourself so much because it is so good.

After you eat, the two of you sit at the table just staring at each other for a while. You feel a little sleepy, but you don’t want to miss a moment with Tae.

“Do you want to see my room?” Tae asks awkwardly.

You aren’t sure if he genuinely wants to show you his room or if this is his awkward attempt at getting you into a more private space. On both fronts, you are more than happy. You want to see the inward private space that’s kept only for Tae, not for the public figure. And you would be more than happy to have some private time with Tae because you can’t stop thinking about the way he felt against you.

You nod, and he pushes back his chair from the table. He helps you up onto your feet and leads you by the hand down the hallway. He opens the third door in the hallway, and upon entering the room, you feel Tae in every inch of the room. In the corner are canvases, blank and painted, stacked in the corner, and an easel stands tall above them. A desk sits in the other corner, scattered with pens and pencils. It looks like he’s been brainstorming or planning or writing, and to the small messes side there is a nice desktop computer. You don’t know too much about gaming computers, but you do know when you see a nice one. This one is definitely a nice one.

His bed is made with a gray comforter on top, and there are lamps on either bedside table. He flicks them on quickly and shuts off the overhead light.

“I hope you don’t mind. I just like the ambient light better,” he says quietly, making his way across the room to you.

Every picture in the room draws your attention. There’s one large painting on the wall. It looks like an acrylic painting done with a palette knife. It’s beautiful, and the muted colors swirl together to create intricate patterns.

“This is so beautiful, Tae. Did you do this?”

He chuckles a little and sneaks in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I wish. No, I bought this one. I hope someday to be able to do that.”

Seeing the things that Tae loves and hearing his aspirations as an artist fill your heart with warmth. His fingers sneak along the top hem of your skirt, tickling your skin and make you shiver in place. You let him continue to do it, and you drop your head back against his shoulder.

He pulls you closer against him, your back flush against his chest, and you can feel the growing stiffness in his pants against your ass. You smile. Knowing that you made Tae excited like that causes your chest to swell with pride. 

He has the option of any woman in Korea and probably the world, and he is choosing you right now. His fingers continue to dance along the skin of your waist and the top of your skirt. They slowly dip under the waistband, tracing small circles under the fabric. You can’t control the small moan that leaves your mouth when his fingers creep into the waistband of your panties.

He exhales sharply, and you feel him press against you. His other hand makes its way to the bottom of your shirt and ghosts underneath the cotton. You are rapt in the smell and the feel of him. You never want anything but his soft skin to be touching you again.

“Is this okay?” he whispers into your ear before he continues.

“Yes, it’s so much more than okay.” You turn your head, and your lips find one another. This time the kiss is desperate and pleading. It feels like if you don’t kiss him without enough passion, he won’t know how badly you want him. All of your desires try to escape off your tongue, dancing against his. Your hands try to find purchase on his hips, and you grip him on the top of his pants. One hand slides to the bulge that’s pressing against his pants and against you. His cock is hard and thick, and you immediately feel wetness pooling in your panties the second you touch it.

All you can think is how badly you want that cock in your hand, in your mouth, in your pussy. You want all of him tonight, even though you know it’s a little improper. Tae’s fingers dip all the way into your panties while the other hand finds your nipple. He gently pinches it between his index finger and thumb. He rolls it carefully, and the arousal shooting to your core is almost overwhelming. His other hand is tracing small circles through the wetness between your legs. He slides his fingers up and down your slit from your entrance to your clit. He moans a deep, low groan into your neck.

His wrap around the skin on your neck, teeth nipping at you. His breath is hot on your neck, and you lean further into him. He slips one finger into your entrance, and you inhale sharply. He begins a slow pace with his finger inside of you, just barely giving you what you crave before pulling back out again.

His teasing sets you off. You turn around to him and kiss him hard, caressing his tongue with yours. You drop to your knees before him and glance up at him, smiling, before your fingers undo the button on his slacks. Once you have his pants undone, you yank them to the floor. His cock is pleading to escape the confines of his underwear and who are you to deny it. When you pull him out, your mouth immediately waters at the sight of it. It’s thick and smooth, and you cannot wait any longer to have it inside of you. 

You let one droplet of spit fall slowly from your mouth onto the shaft of his cock. You use your tongue to swirl the wetness around it, making him slick for you to take him all the way in. Your hand wraps around the base, and, as you look up into his eyes, you slide him into your mouth. With his cock inside your mouth, you use your tongue to massage the head, slowly flicking it around the tip. Tae groans.

His hand slides into your hair, gripping it firmly. You bob your head up and down slowly, taking in all that you can, using your hand to rub it up and down as you take it into your throat. You press your face against his pubic bone, the hair tickling your nose slightly, and Tae’s hips thrust slightly further down your throat. You gag around him, and he moans again. You moan around him, knowing the vibration will feel good, plus you are so beyond turned on.

You feel his cock pulse slightly in your mouth, hardening further. He pants and uses your hair to pull your mouth away from him.

“Fuck, you make me feel so good. I’m going to cum too fast.”

You smile at his words, using your tongue to wipe the spit off of your fingers. His eyes widen and he pulls you up to his level. “Get over here.”

Tae picks you up and throws you gently against the bed. He stands above you and rips his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside. His fingers slide up your thighs and loop around the waistband of your panties. He pulls them off, leaving your skirt on.

“You’ve been teasing me all day in this skirt, haven’t you? You knew how good you looked in it when you were getting dressed.” He’s panting a little and his hair is sticking to his forehead slightly at the sweaty spots.

The gruffness of his voice and his words are making you a wanton mess for him. You know that you look good in this skirt. You know that it’s pretty short and shows off your legs. You, however, did not know that it would have this effect on Tae. With your panties thrown aside, he pulls your shirt over your head, revealing the lilac lace bralette that you have on underneath.

“Fuck,” Tae whispers to himself, eyes raking over every inch of your tits.

Tae climbs on top of you and plants his lips against your neck. He’s teasing the delicate skin and leaving little nips all over your chest and collarbone. His mouth makes its way down to your breasts, and he pulls each one gingerly out of the cups of the bralette. He marvels at them for a moment  then takes your right nipple into his mouth. You moan immediately, having extra sensitive nipples.

“Tae,” you moan out, hand lacing into his long dark hair. “Please.”

He looks up at you smiling. “Please what, darling?”

“Please....” you’re a little embarrassed to say, but you’re too turned on to care. “Please fuck me.”

He growls in his chest and pushes himself away from you. At first you think that you’ve offended him, but then he opens the drawer of his bedside table. He pulls out a condom, holds it up, and smiles at you. You take it from his hand, tearing the packaging to get the little latex shield out. Rolling it on to his cock, you can feel how hard he is, and you get even more aroused, looking at it and feeling it.

Once the condom is in place, Tae lies you back on the bed. He aligns himself with your entrance, and before he pushes himself inside of you, he asks, “You’re sure this is okay?”

You blush slightly because you did just moments ago beg him to fuck you, but you smile up at him. “Yes, Tae. I am so so okay with this. Please.”

He smiles and pushes himself slowly inside of you. Your eyes meet his as he hovers above, his eyes growing in intensity. His thrusts are rhythmic and deliberate, and you can’t believe that you feel like you’re going to cum already. Your fingers claw at his back, and you know that you’re leaving little scratch marks behind.

Soon, he pulls his cock almost all of the way out of you and thrusts it back inside, less gently than before. Your hands, unable to control themselves, grip firmly on his arms. You can feel how wide your eyes are, and you gasp for air as he does it again. Your head is growing foggy, and you feel yourself hurtling toward your orgasm, unstoppable. 

Your pussy pulses around his cock, and Tae moans out your name. The sound of your name falling off his lips while he’s inside you is enough to send you over the edge. You feel the muscles in your pussy contracting, and your clit feels like it’s covered in warmth. The orgasm tears through you, and your mind goes completely blank, only pleasure exists.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Tae pants out. As you come down from your orgasm, he starts thrusting faster and less rhythmically.

“Cum for me, Tae. Please,” you say, and that’s all it takes to send Tae over the cliff. He moans deeply and spills inside of the condom with his buried deep inside of you. His breathing is rough and jagged, and you can feel all of his muscles clenching. You run your fingernails gently over his back as he comes down. The two of you stay there wrapped in each other for a moment.

With a sigh, Tae pulls his softening cock out of you. He slips the condom off and tosses it into the trash. “Stay here,” he says and disappears into the bathroom.

At this moment, you’re very glad that all the guys don’t have to share one bathroom. When he returns, it looks like he’s washed his face and gotten all the wetness off his cock. He tosses you a warm, wet cloth.

“You can use that bathroom if you need to.” He points from where he just came, and you smile at him, popping up off the bed to go take care of yourself.

When you come back out of the bathroom, Tae is standing there in his underwear, looking much more shy than his behavior just minutes ago.

“Just so you know, I wasn’t planning on that happening. I don’t want you to feel like I just brought you here for that.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks at you through his eyelashes.

“Tae, it’s okay. I really enjoyed it.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m just trying to use you or something. I’m not like that. I really care about you.”

You don’t know how to comfort him or make him feel validated. You hadn’t at any point in time thought that he might be using you. You’d been having filthy thoughts about him since the train ride that first night. You cross the room to him and throw your arms around him. Your fingers run through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Tae, I asked you to fuck me. I wanted this more than I care to admit. You looked so good in that outfit today. I couldn’t help myself.”

He wraps his fingers into your hair and pulls your head back gently. He angles your head so that your mouth is free for him to kiss. He presses his mouth hard against yours. Your lips are swollen and bitten, but you kiss him back with all the affection that you're feeling. You part your lips for his tongue as it snakes back into your mouth. You feel yourself getting aroused again, and you laugh into Tae’s mouth.

“Tae, I worked all day. I kind of want to just take it easy,” you say against his mouth, immediately regretting it when his breath is no longer on your lips.

He laughs and pulls you into a hug then lets go. He walks over and picks up your shirt for you. You still have your skirt sitting on your hips where he left it, and you adjusted your bra in the bathroom. With your shirt adjusted on you, you watch Tae put on a shirt and a pair of loose comfy pants.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asks.

You smile up at him, taking his hand. “As long as it isn’t Woody Allen.”

***

After that night in Tae’s bedroom, whenever the two of you are together, you struggle to keep your hands off of each other. Whether you’re in the kitchen at the apartment, in the car together, or in Taehyung's room, you are touching each other somehow.

Being with Tae feels amazing when you’re together, but it’s hard because he is so rarely around, and you can’t have normal dates with him. After about 3 months of talking, you’ve only seen each other a few times. You feel grateful for the time that you have with him, but half the time he is too exhausted to do more than lie on the couch or in his bed together.

You love the way that Tae makes you feel, but you don’t love the way that you feel when you see him on some gossip site. You know they’re just fishing for whatever story they can get, and his name gets clicks. It still doesn’t feel good. You have mixed feelings about everything in your relationship, but you keep it to yourself.

One Friday afternoon, Tae texts you to make plans for the weekend. You see the text, but you are swamped with work and ignore it. Two hours later, he texts you again, asking if you’re angry with him.

You: No. I’m not angry. I’m just busy. What’s the plan?

Tae: I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight. I’m taking you to dinner.

Tae: AND BONUS! You can stay over tonight if you want.

You haven’t been able to stay the night at Tae’s place throughout your whole relationship because he has manager’s coming in early every morning. The other member’s girlfriends tend to leave around the same time that you do, and you’ve made friends with some of them. You feel your heart flip slightly as you read the words. You smile to yourself, trying to plan what cute jammies you’re going to take and then not wear.

When Tae picks you up, you’re wearing a dress with lace panties underneath. You made yourself up a little bit, but you figured you didn’t need to dress too nicely since dinner with Tae was always just at his house. When the driver, Beoseon, opens the door, you are taken aback by the site of Tae in a suit. He looks deadly, and you feel sinful just looking at him.

“Wow. I feel underdressed,” you say as you kiss his cheek.

“No way. You look amazing!” he says as he gives you a cheeky look that you have grown to recognize from him. “I have a special plan for us tonight.”

The two of you are all smiles in the car, hands searching each other. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his trousers, and you sneak your way into his pubic hair, resting at the base of his cock. You don’t wrap your hand around it, don’t grab on to it. Instead, you just run your fingernails gently over the skin through the hair. Teasing Taehyung is one of your favorite things because he’s normally silly and mild mannered, but as soon as he gets aroused, he becomes a determined little demon.

Tae sits still, smirking over at you while you tease. You can feel him growing harder, but he doesn’t reveal any of it on his face. Working Tae up just means that things are going to be better for you later. You smile to yourself thinking of all the things that the two of you could do.

“So, what are we having for dinner tonight?” you ask casually, as your fingers caress his cock gently, and you look up at him.

“Like I said, I have something special planned. It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you. Though, if you keep that up, I’m gonna have something else in store for you too.”

The car turns a different way than it usually would to take you to Tae’s place, and you look at him with surprise. He has only taken you out the first time when you went to Ihwa Village. You’d had so much fun wandering around looking at the art with him, but you were worried about being in a public place. It was Friday night. Places would be busy. People would be walking wherever you went.

The car pulls into a service parking lot under the Horim Art Center, and you look at Tae confused. You go in through the employee entrance and take the elevator up. When you walk through the doors of the restaurant, the entire place is empty except a server, a bartender,and the kitchen staff. You turn to Tae and smile. He takes your hands in his and pulls you along to the table.

“Only the best for you, jagiya.”

The man leading you to the table pulls out a chair for you and then for Tae. This place is so fancy, and you feel a lot underdressed in your summer dress. You feel like this is the kind of place that you need to be dressed to the nines in high heels with your hair actually done instead of messily curled when you got home from work.

“Kim Taehyung, you did not tell me that I needed to be dressed for a place like this,” you glare at him.

He laughs. “y/n, you do not need to be dressed up. It’s just you and I here. We aren’t trying to impress anyone.”

“Well, maybe I’m trying to impress you,” you coo, trying to use your seductive tone on him.

Realizing that it’s just the two of you in the restaurant, you are determined to get him worked up. You slide your hand sneakily under your dress, and Tae quirks his eyebrow at you. You remove the black lace in one swift movement and the reach under the table to place it in Tae’s hand. It’s a little more awkward than you’d pictured, but it does the trick when the warm fabric hits his hand. You see his eyes widen at the feeling of them.

“Is someone feeling a little naughty?” he asks.

You wink at him and open your menu like nothing just happened. The food on the menu is all super expensive, and you are taken aback by the prices on it. You wouldn’t spend this much on dinner, opting instead to just go to the barbecue by your house. You look at Tae, and he’s smiling softly at you, an intimacy in his eyes that you haven’t seen before.

The waiter comes over and Tae orders wine for you, and you order your food.

“Tae, you shut down this whole restaurant just for me?”

“Of course not. That’s absurd.” When you cast him a confused look, he smiles. “I shut down the whole museum.”

You can feel the heat in your cheeks as the flattery overwhelms you. You know that he’s rich and famous and can do things like this but still.

“We can eat and take in some of the museum...then go back to your place maybe?” he asks.

What? What is happening? I thought he said you could stay the night with him, not him staying the night with you.

“What?” you blurt out after finishing your sip of wine.

“I’ve just never seen where you live. Not in person anyway. I just want to feel what it feels like in a space that you created.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to fucking explode. You absentmindedly start running your foot up the inside of Tae’s leg, and you reach for his hand across the table. He grabs yours loosely with one hand, and the other hand snags your foot and pulls it up toward his crotch. While the waiter delivers your food, Tae slides your shoe off, and you press your foot gently against the bulge in his pants. You can’t even start eating yet you are so focused on the way that Tae feels in your hand and against your foot.

You adjust the way that your fingers are intertwined and move both of your hands toward your mouth. Your tongue creeps out of your mouth, and you lick up the length of his pointer finger. With a satisfied little smile, you pull your fingers away and sink your whole mouth down onto the finger, sucking slowly up the length of it, staring into his eyes. There is a fire behind his eyes, and he growls a little under his breath.

“Filthy girl. We should eat dinner, and then you can tease me some more.”

“Though this food looks amazing, it’s not really what I’m craving right now, Tae,” you pout.

“Tell you what. If you eat your dinner like a good girl, you can come sit in my lap.”

Tae chuckles to himself, placing your foot on the floor, adjusting himself, and picking up his chopsticks to eat. He looks like he’s proud of the comment he’s just made, and you roll your eyes at him. You can’t deny that the comment sent heat straight to your core, but you don’t like proving him right.

You straighten your napkin in your lap and begin to eat. You look at him through your lashes, but you make sure to hold your posture perfectly like you are unaffected by his comment. The two of you eat silently for a few minutes before picking conversation back up.

When you finish eating, Tae takes you on a tour through the whole museum. He shows you all of his favorite exhibits, and the two of you spend much of the time laughing and kissing. You aren’t sure if he’s forgotten that he has your underwear in his pocket or if he’s just biding his time, but you love the little game that you’re playing.

By the end of the evening, your heart is full to bursting with the love for the man with you, and you don’t ever want to let go of his hand.

“Tae…” you pause.

He raises his eyebrows and looks at you with that curious, dark stare of his, and you feel like you’re going to melt.

“You feel like home.”

The smile that rips across his face feels like the first warm day of the spring. It wraps you up in its comfort, and you feel yourself falling even deeper for him in that moment. There are things about his life that you don’t love, but you know that you love him.

“y/n, no one has ever felt more like home to me than you do.”

You can’t control yourself, and you throw your arms around him, pulling him tightly against you while you kiss his lips. This kiss feels different, like the first kiss after saying I love you. But I love you means so many different things to so many different people, and the feeling of being home feels right to you.

Later that night, you are lying naked on Tae’s bed, hair tousled, feeling exhausted. You and Tae are having your designating scrolling time on your phones, and you hear him whisper, “Oh fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask him softly, worried that something has come up with the band.

“I-I have to go.” He shoots up off the bed and throws a pair of pants on quickly before darting to the door.

You look flabbergasted at him, worried that something is really wrong.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

He disappears out the door, and you’re left to wonder what you should even be doing.

*********

“This is so bad,” Tae groans as he holds his head.

He’s pacing in the kitchen while Jimin is trying to comfort him.

“Honestly, it can’t be that bad. The company will take care of it. There were only so many people there, they’re going to find who did it.”

“It’s….just...these pictures are bad, hyung. They’re really bad. Look.”

He hands his phone to Jimin whose eyes widen upon seeing the pictures on the screen. Tears are starting to roll down Tae’s cheeks, and he looks at Jimin wildly. Jimin wraps his arms around him and holds him closely. Neither man is really sure what to do.

On the screen of Tae’s phone are several slightly grainy photos of him in the restaurant earlier that night. Your face is completely visible, and your tongue is running along his finger in one of them. His finger is in your mouth in another.

“This is so bad,” he sobs out. “I can’t believe I did this to her.”

While Jimin is telling him to just breathe, you emerge from Tae’s room, hair messily thrown up. You look confused and as soon as you see the tears in Tae’s eyes, you run to him.

“y/n, I fucked up,” he whispers.

“Tae, it’s going to be okay. Shhh. Breathe through it. Tell me what happened.”

The way that you’re looking at him with so much concern in your eyes about something that he’s done to you, the last thing that he ever wanted to happen to you, something he promised wouldn’t happen. He can’t say it, so he just picks up his phone and hands it to you.

“What the-” you trail off as you look at the pictures retweeted by hundreds of thousands of people already.

Your face turns white as you look up from the screen at Tae. Your expression is grim, and he can’t tell if you’re angry or sad or numb. He’s so worried about what you’re going to say as you look at him. Instead of saying something, you turn and walk down the hall back into his room. He looks puzzled at the door, unsure what the hell you’re doing.

You return with your bag that you brought to stay the night and your phone in hand. You don’t look at him as you walk out the front door of the apartment.

“Wait, y/n, wait!” he shouts after you, taking off down the hallway.

Jimin catches him and holds him firmly in place, deceptively strong for his size.

“You have to let her go. You have to let her handle this on her own.”

The hot tears are gushing from Taehyung’s eyes, and he feels like a volcano of devastation is erupting out of him. He isn’t sure he’s ever sobbed this hard and definitely not in the last few years. His stupidity and carelessness caused you to be photographed with him. He is the reason that risque pictures of you are now online. He knows that the company will catch them, if they haven’t already, but it’s not consolation for the cost of losing you.

******

Your chest heaves as you ride in the back of the car. Beoseon is silent, but you can see his eyes flitting back to you in the rearview mirror every couple of minutes. You wish it wasn’t such a long trip home. You just want to get out and walk and feel the cool air on your face. This car is suffocating, the air inside stale and recycled. You ride in the back of the car until you can’t take it anymore. Beoseon pulls over and lets you out, and you take off briskly down the sidewalk.

You breathe in the humid midsummer air, and you think that this has to be a joke. Taehyung and Jimin had to be playing the worst prank of all time on you. He was going to call you any moment and tell you “gotcha! Jimin took them!”

It wasn’t though. You weren’t going to get that call because you say the tweet. You saw the retweets. You didn’t even want to think about the comments on it. You just want to go home and become one with your bed. You wonder if The Secret applies to becoming furniture.

You wonder to yourself why Tae hasn’t even texted you yet. You feel like this would be one of those things that he would continually text you about like that time that he thought he’d made you angry when you were arguing about mint chocolate ice cream. This was a much bigger thing than fucking ice cream, and now, radio silence.

You turn the corner, and the breeze against your skin feels calming. You can feel yourself sweating, and you realize you left your underwear at Tae’s house. You don’t even care. You left your dignity in the restaurant when you had your lips wrapped around his finger. How could you be so stupid? Nothing is private. Especially not when you’re with him.

The tears come again as you make your way up the stairs to your apartment. It’s only a matter of time before you’re getting calls from people. It doesn’t say your name anywhere, but you know how stan twitter works. They’ll find anyone and dox them.

Once in your apartment, you strip down and put on your comfiest sweater and sweatpants. The air conditioning makes you feel as chilly outside as you do inside. You can’t believe this is happening. You can’t believe you let this happen. You curl up on your bed on top of the covers and fall asleep, face wet from the tears soaking into your pillow.

You didn’t leave the house or go online all weekend. Instead opting to clean your entire apartment and reorganize your entire bedroom. You felt a little better being away from the situation. You felt worse knowing that Tae hadn’t called or texted at all. It seemed like he’d completely resigned himself to you leaving and wasn’t going to fight for you at all.

You had resigned yourself to showing your face at work on Monday, and you hoped that you would have a normal day. When you walked into the building, everything was completely normal, almost everyone ignoring you, and you feel hopeful.

The work day ends, and the only conversations that you’ve had have been about spreadsheets and the copier. You heave a sigh of relief as you walk outside. You never thought that it would be so easy to get away with dating an idol. Maybe his company took care of it? Maybe you were lucky, and no one recognized you.

Tuesday is a different story. It starts with glances from the other girls in the office.

Wednesday, Aecha comes up to you and stares at you for a minute before you turn to her.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, thinking maybe she needs help with a task.

“Do you really know Kim Taehyung?” she asks, eyes wide, nervously holding onto her left arm with her right.

You roll your eyes. You knew this couldn’t last.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, with no expression on your face.

“There are just these pictures and...they really look like you.”

Her nervousness is palpable, and you feel your hands getting clammy. You had already decided that if anyone asked about it you would deny deny deny.

“Well, maybe I’ve just got one of those faces.” You shrug and turn back to your computer.

Aecha stares at you for a moment longer, but then she sighs a nevermind and walks away. After she’s gone, you let out an exhale of relief, but you are hoping that she’ll spread the word to the rest of the women at the office. You hope that no one thinks it’s you. Such lewd behavior in public could lead to you being fired.

That night is when the notifications start. Thousands of them every hour. Eventually, you turn your phone on to airplane mode just to get away from them. This. This is what you were afraid of. You decide not to read of the messages, fearing that the content could be detrimental to your already fragile psyche.

You get a phone call from your boss telling you that you should probably take the rest of the week off, and the two of you will talk about next steps when you return on Monday. You knew at that moment that your life wouldn’t be the same. You wished you had someone to talk to about it. That’s when you remember that Rey has been seeing Jimin for almost a year. There’s no way that she hasn’t been exposed if you have after a few months.

You find her number in your contacts. Afraid to turn on your phone, you hesitate slightly then swipe the screen to allow connectivity. You ignore all the badges on every app you have and call her.

You can hear voices in the background when you call her, but she sounds relieved to hear from you.

“y/n hi!” she exclaims, a little too eagerly upon picking up.

“Hey, do you have a minute to talk?”

“Of course I do,” she says to you. You hear her whisper off to the side, “shut up, it’s y/n.”

There are muffled whispers on the other end. “Oh, I can talk to you later if you’re busy.”

“No, no. I’m not busy. I want to talk to you.”

“Did you hear about the pictures?” you ask meekly. 

“I did. Yeah. I saw. I’m so sorry, y/n. How are you holding up?”

“I honestly don’t know what to think. I don’t feel that bad about it in general. I haven’t read any of the messages, and I haven’t had too much happen in person either. The worst part is that I haven’t even talked to Taehyung since that night. I just don’t even know where we stand. Is he embarrassed? Is he in trouble? Does he want nothing to do with me anymore? I thought I knew what I wanted, but it’s hard when I have no one to talk to about it.”

She pauses for a moment, and you look down at your phone to see if you dropped the call.

“All I can say is this. It’s going to be hard and trying and challenging. Sometimes he’s going to be gone for months at a time. Sometimes he’s going to be too tired to talk. Sometimes people who think they’re meant to be with him are going to hate you. I decided that it didn’t matter. As long as I had Jimin, I could make it through anything. I loved him too much to not fight for him.”

Her words hit you in your heart, and you immediately start crying. You thank her and hang out the phone. You lie down on your bed staring at the ceiling for a long time, and you aren’t sure at what point you drift off to sleep.

*****

“Kim Taehyung!” a shout echoes down the hallway.

“Why is everyone always yelling my fucking name?” Tae grumbles to himself.

He stands up from his bed, dressed messily, face unshaven. When he gets to the hallway, Jimin, Jungkook, and their girlfriends are all standing around in the dining room, staring at him.

“Did I hear that you have called or text y/n AT ALL since the night that she walked out of here?” Jungkook demands. Even though he’s the youngest, his tone is commanding and dark. If anyone knows about the pain of having their private photos leaked, it’s Jungkook.

Shit.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me. She made that clear when she walked out on me.” Tae turns to go back down the hallway.

“Seriously? You haven’t talked to her. You’ve literally said zero words to her since you showed her that someone took pictures of an incredibly intimate moment. How do you know how she feels?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “No, no. If you could have seen the look on her face...I broke the one promise I made to her.”

Jimin walks up to Taehyung and grabs him by the shoulders. “Hey, look at me.” When Taehyung lifts his eyes up to his friend’s, he can feel the tears welling behind his eyes.

“Taehyung, if you love her like you say you do, if she feels like home, you would fight for her. You know that.”

He feels the water fall on to his cheeks, and he can’t stop all the doubt running through his mind. It’s like Jimin sees it in him, and he says, “you can’t get caught up in what ifs. You have to go to her.”

He nods and runs back to his room. He throws on a casual outfit and calls Beoseon on his way out the door. He knows that if he doesn’t do something right now, then he won’t be able to say all the things that he needs to say to you.

****

A gentle knock on your door wakes you from your sleep. At first, you aren’t sure if you even heard it, when you blink your eyes open, looking around confused. Then it comes again.

You drudge yourself up off the bed and maunder to the door. The sight out of the peephole is one of the last things you expected to see. Standing in the hallway outside of your apartment, a sullen-looking Kim Taehyung is knocking softly against your door.

You unlock the door and swing it open to face him. He simply stares at you for a moment. He opens his mouth and closes it again like he doesn’t know what to say.

“Why don’t you come in?” you mutter.

Once inside, the two of you stand, shifting your weight between your feet. You aren't sure what to say, but you know that you can't just stand here in silence any longer. The things that are unsaid between you hang in the air. It's thick and heavy and difficult. Seeing Tae's face after the last several days is painful, and you hope that he'll speak first.

"I..was an idiot," he says.

It isn't really what you expected, but it was true. He was an idiot.

"Yeah. You were."

He winces slightly at the bite in your tone, but you know that he has to have more words to say.

"I wrote a song for you."

Well...this conversation is not going how you expected it to.

"Well, I'm glad you were writing a song in the five days that you weren't talking to me after a super embarrassing photo of me was posted on the internet."

You turn away from him and start to walk toward your bedroom. He grabs your hand before you are too far away from him. You remember the man in the bar the night that you met, and you freeze, melting a little at the memory. The way that he felt that first night was the reason you'd even agreed to any of this at all. The warmth of his palm on yours reminds you of all the things that you loved in your time together.

"Look, y/n. I can't ever apologize enough for abandoning you when this happened. I should have immediately called and texted and come over and hired a skywriter. Instead, I was a coward and assumed that I would know what you would say to me about it. I didn't even talk to you before assuming that you were done with me and wanted nothing to do with me. I broke a promise that I made to you. I can tell you that the company is taking legal action against that line cook, and they were fired. It doesn't change what happened, but I just want you to know that I'm trying to do everything I can to make it up to you."

You know that Tae didn't mean to hurt you. You know that. But it doesn't change the fact that he did.

"Taehyung...I know that you didn't mean to, but you hurt me. You broke promises."

"y/n, please. I love you. Please forgive me."

Those three words hang in the air, wrap around you, and overwhelm your senses. You know that you feel that way about him, but the fact that he said them first fills you with joy.

You leap at Tae, and he grabs you as you jump into his arms. You kiss him hard, breathing him in. Your lips move together, and you know that it's all worth it for him. You pull back, wrapping your fingers around his neck, messing gently with his hair.

"I love you too, Tae. You are worth it."

He grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, and you feel your heart quickening in your chest. You tug at his hair. He lets your lip go, and you slip your tongue across his bottom lip. You want to feel every inch of him, taste every part of him. Your tongue traces his bottom lip and then sneaks into his mouth. His tongue finds yours, and they feel like they were meant to be together.

He pulls back from you and drops you down on the couch. He pulls his shirt over his head, and then he grabs the hem of yours and rips it off, tossing it aside. You aren't wearing a bra, so your nipples harden at the cool air and the arousal. Tae growls quietly in the back of his throat, and he leans down to kiss you. You pull him toward you until he's on top of you.

He laughs as he kisses you, and he presses his torso against yours. He wraps his hand in your hair and pulls gently. "Is this okay?"

He pulls a little more. You nod fervently at the small sting in your scalp. He pulls harder and harder, and you smile as he pulls your hair hard. The pain makes the wetness between your legs grow, and you can't wait until he hurts you again.

"Tae?" you stare up at him. "Do something for me?"

“Anything, my love. Anything.”

“Will you...slap me?” His eyes widen, and he stiffens slightly. “Shit. If you’re not into it, then we really don’t have to do that.”

“No, yobu, that’s not it. I really love it. It’s just that I hurt you emotionally already…”

“Well...make the outside match?” You thought it would be fun and flirty, but it just sounded kinda rude. You laugh to try to make it clear that you aren’t actually upset with him.

He stares at you for a moment, then he brings his hand up away from your hip. It smacks against your cheek, and you try not to flinch as it comes down on you. The sting in your skin makes you soak through your underwear. 

“Now, I’m going to show you how much I love you,” he whisper-growls in your ear.

He drops his weight back on to the couch and pulls you into his laugh. You slightly awkwardly straddle his lap from the position you’ve been placed in. Taehyung slips two fingers into your mouth and pulls your jaw open. He rubs his fingers on your tongue, and you moan in the back of your throat. He pushes his fingers further into your mouth to back of your throat.

He brings his other hand up to the back of your head, stroking your hair, and says, “Good girl.”

Around his fingers, you plead, “Pleath Taehong.”

He smiles at your inability to properly pronounce the words.

“You sound so desperate with my fingers in your mouth like that. Sweet dumb baby can’t make words when she’s so turned on.” He’s smiling and pressing his fingers further into your mouth again. “You don’t know how desperate I am though, jagiya. Should I show you?”

You nod, and his hand leaves the back of your head and wraps around your throat, squeezing gently. “Use your words.”

“Yes Tae.”

You are starting to drool down your chin with your mouth so wide open, but you don’t care because you want to cover him in your spit. Tae shifts his weight and pulls his pants down, hard cock bursting free as soon as the fabric that contained it is gone.

“Do you see what you do to me? Every time I see you, it’s like the first time again. I feel like I’m infatuated. A lusty mess.”

You moan around his fingers, and your spit drips from your lips onto his cock, and you smile at the sight of it.

“Does my lovely baby like to see her spit on my cock?” he asks, smirking at you, still holding your jaw open.

“Yeth.” More spit falls from your mouth.

“My love, I just want to feel you,” Tae whispers against your neck. His mouth finds purchase on your collarbone. He bites down hard and then sucks the skin where he’s just bitten. He looks up at you with so much affection in his eyes, it almost hurts.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and sucks the drool off of them. You feel like you are going to explode if you don’t get some sort of stimulation soon.

“Bedroom?” you ask him.

“Bedroom.” he states back.

You lead him into your bedroom, and he pushes you back onto your bed. You pull your sweatpants and your ruined panties off and toss them aside. Tae stands before you, completely naked, and you marvel at him. He’s so beautiful and so perfect, his honey skin stretched just right over every curvature of every muscle and bone.

Shit. He’s so beautiful.

He slowly lowers himself between your legs, and you can’t believe that it’s possible to grow any wetter until you do. He positions himself about your clitoris, blowing cool air on the aching bud. You squirm beneath him, but he holds your hips in place. His tongue makes contact with the sensitive skin, and you immediately moan. He pulls away after one lick and blows again. The pleasure and the desire are overwhelming. Your mind is losing control.

“Please. Please,” you beg without knowing what in particular you are begging for. His touch? His tongue? His love? All of it?

He chuckles against your folds, and the stimulation makes your squirm even more. He isn’t touching you, but you are dying for his touch.

“Hold still.” 

He holds your hips as the gyrate, trying to get attention in some form. He pushes a little hard on your hips, but you can’t control yourself. You are out of your mind, and you need his touch now before you die for the lack of touch.

Smack!

Tae’s hand lands on your inner thigh heavily. You look down at him with wide eyes. “I said hold still.”

With all the power you possess in your mind, you force your hips to quiet. You hold perfectly still while panting in anticipation. You want to be good so that he’ll reward you with the thing you want most, and your brain tries to focus on still hips instead of those still lips.

Finally after what feels like years, he dips his head and traces gentle patterns through your arousal. Every time his tongue passes over your clit you moan but fight to keep your hips still. You feel yourself losing your grip, hips shuddering from the pleasure, and Taehyung slides a finger inside of you. Slick with your arousal, it easily caresses the bundle of nerves inside. The stimulation from his tongue and his finger immediately send you over the edge.

It’s sudden and forceful. It feels like all of the emotions, anger, sadness, hopelessness, all burst from within you, melting into your orgasm. Your pain melts away as the only thing left in the room, hell, the world is the sensation that Tae is giving you. Your fingers pull at his hair, and even the feeling of his soft locks is too much for you, adding to the pleasure.

As the feeling begins to wind down, you can’t stop your hips from rolling against his face. He doesn’t seem to mind, hands wrapped around your ass and hips, pulling your hard against his face. When he pulls away, his chin is shining almost as much as his eyes.

“I love you, y/n.”

He climbs up on top of you and kisses you deeply. You taste yourself on his lips, and you moan into his mouth.

“Tae...fuck me raw?”

You stare up deeply into his eyes, and you hear the intake of air from him being startled. He nods, and his cock presses against you. He slides his cock through your folds, and the way the head of his cock feels against your clit causes your to shudder. It feels like small shockwaves that are left over from your orgasm are rocking through as the stimulation continues.

Once his cock is coated in your wetness, he pushes himself inside of you, and you moan a deep, heavy moan as he sheaths himself within you. The stimulation is already pushing you toward another orgasm, and you can feel yourself pulse around. He has a way of making you cum over and over so quickly.

“I love you, Tae,” you whisper, and he starts to move his hips in rhythm. The thrusts leave you breathless. He repositions himself so that his weight is resting on your legs, and he is pushing your knees up near your chest. It burns in your hamstrings, but the feeling inside of you demands more of your attention.

You moan loudly, hearing your own sounds echoing off the ceiling and the walls. Tae repositions once more. He’s holding your ankles, pressing himself deep inside of you. Another orgasm tears through you, and while you clench around him, Tae spills inside of you, filling you full of his cum. You feel him fucking it deeper inside of you. You relish the feeling of being filled with Tae, knowing that there will be a day soon where you will make him fill every hole with him.

You both pant in each other’s arms before you finally start talking.

“I mean it, y/n. I was such an idiot. I’m so sorry. I know that it doesn’t change what happened, but I think that we can try to figure out a way to make this work.” His eyes are a little desperate again, veiled in exhaustion.

“Kim Taehyung, if someone is worth it, you make sacrifices. For what it’s worth, I love you. Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” you giggle as you say it.

He flips himself onto his back and pulls you tightly against his chest and kisses your nose. “Far from it.”

*****

On an unseasonably warm November afternoon, you lie on the roof of the recording studio where Tae is working today. He had a few minutes to sneak away for lunch, so you brought Banh Mi for him. You kissed him on the cheek when you saw him and greeted the other members.

The two of you lie looking at the sky, picking out shapes in the clouds. He’s gently holding your hand, and you are tossing Swedish Fish into his mouth.

“Isatrashcan!” he says with several gummies in his mouth.

“Isa what?” you ask, laughing at him incredulously.

He points out a long cylindrical cloud. “It’s a trash can!”

He looks so proud of himself, and you can’t help but love that about him. The sexy man that ruins you and dominates you. The devastatingly handsome man who wins awards and forgets to call you when he’s on the road. The oblivious man who almost cost you your job and almost broke your heart. He is also the love of your life.

You lean over and kiss his lips, smiling at him. You know that this trash can cloud is just the beginning of many adventures to come.

[toukenramblings]

Can i request Hasebe, Tomoe and Kashuu reacting to child!Saniwa asking if they can go to their PTA meeting or watch them during a sports festival at their school pls ?

--

Oh my god.

Babeh.

Sports festival saniwa...oh my god. @rexcaliburechoes REXY HI PLS TAKE DIS FOOD

Heshikiri Hasebe

Hasebe isn’t...all that good with kids? He can tolerate them and as he gets closer to the master, he’ll begin to cherish them. They are still his master, no matter how small they are! Sure it’ll take some getting used to but like...he can handle it....he thinks?

One day they shyly ask him to attend a festival at their school a handwritten invitation given out to him. “I-I trust you...” the little one would say, small little hands gripping the paper to the point it may rip - head bowed as they hold it out to him. Hasebe can’t say no! They are so brave to ask him and he’s flattered really.

When the day of the festival comes, Hasebe had researched what they are like beforehand. He is prepared for the hot sun with copious amounts of water, a hat, bento boxes, so on and so forth! He’s uber prepared! No way is anything bad going to happen!

He cheers the loudest whenever the kid is competing in an event or performing a show like in a cultural festival. He’s taking pictures of how cute they are. He’s going to show EVERYONE back at the citadel how fucking pROUD HE IS OF THEM.

If the kid is doing something like cross country, I think Hasebe would be at least a coach for them. He’s pretty damn fast too, and honestly he’ll be rather damn proud if the kid says that Hasebe’s speed inspired them to start running track. Will he cry??? pROBABLY

If there’s a PTA meeting to attend, Hasebe will honestly dress rather formally. He wants to make a good impression! A sweater vest? A suit? Who knows?! Maybe he’ll slap some glasses on there? Lord knows Hasebe will look good as hell with square frames.

Catch people swooning because gOD DAMN IS HE HANDSOME IN CASUALLY FORMAL CLOTHES

He probably has evidence that the saniwa is a good little kid. He has fucking receipts. Don’t even think about talking bad about this kid in front of him. He’ll counter every point. “They are small and young and yes mistakes do happen, but they will come back from it in the end.” and if the kid has any problems at school, Hasebe will do his best to help them!

Okay but this is a personal headcanon that makes me cry, if the fact that this lil Saniwa is bringing Hasebe along to these events means that they care about him a lot and trust him even more than the rest of the TouDan makes him cry a lil? They are so young after all, gods know that they should not be in a war like this. They need to have a better life and HAsebe knows this. So when the meeting or festival is over, I think the lil one will dedicate a trophy or a drawing towards Hasebe. It’s not much, but this little one cares about him oh so much.

Hasebe found crying when they get home to the citadel.

Tomoegata Naginata

Tomoe is even harder to crack than Hasebe. Yes he’s a faithful attendant but children? What is that????? He has to ask for help and freezes whenever this little one asks him for something like affection. He isn’t all that good with it. But as he starts becoming closer to the kid, his affection is a little more known. He won’t hug them suddenly like Kashuu would but like Hasebe, he’ll give them a head pat in public.

It’s a cultural festival that Tomoe is invited to, a colorful invitation in the hand of the little Saniwa who hesitates. But they want him to come. It’s with their best handwriting, practiced over and over again to get it right. Tomoe remembers seeing evidence of that - the spare sheets of paper and how the little one didn’t want to let him see what in the world they were writing. He accepts of course, he cannot disappoint the Saniwa!

Like Hasebe, he researches what culture or sports festivals are, coming to the event oh so prepared! Water, hats, lunches, money, so on and so forth! Damn fUCKING RIGHT HE’S GOING TO MAKE SURE THIS LIL KID IS SAFE DURING THIS EVENT.

Tomoe has a fine appreciation for the arts, and if the saniwa is an artist or is in a play, damn right he’s going to applaud them. Yes maybe they had budding talent, or maybe they have not talent at all - but he is happy if the little one is happy.

He’s supportive in whatever they do after all! Damn right he’ll stick by their side through thick and thin.

If they play games at the festival, Tomoe is found carrying all of their prizes or just winning them for the little one!

At a PTA meeting, Tomoe is wearing a suit. He has brought a stack of files and is more than ready to listen to whatever this teach has to say about the little one. They labeled him as their guardian after all! Tomoe has to keep up appearances.

Like Hasebe, the naginata could go on and on about how great the little one is. Yes he will say that the little one has some faults but like, listen...he cares for this kid. For every fault the little one has, they make up for it with something they do - a smile or a hug for someone!

If they are struggling, Tomoe will do everything to help them. Math, literature, you name it! He’ll be right there by their side, hovering over their shoulder as they work. He will scold them yes but it’s gentle and reward them with a soft smile whenever they do well.

When did Tomoe catch these emotions? Who tHE FUCK KNOWS?

Kashuu Kiyomitsu

If Kashuu is the saniwa’s starter sword, he’ll be close with the little one for sure. He’ll keep them company through thick and thin and he always does the little one’s nails and keeps them all pretty and happy. Hell they’ll have matching clothes! Damn right they will! Kashuu is not about to let this little one be alone. He knows what it’s like in a way, to be discarded and lonely - so he’s determined and driven to not let the little one feel the same!!

Kashuu-niisan is a bit of a gossip so when he finds out that the little one wants to take him to their festival, of course he’ll be the first to know! He wil happily say yes! He will be raring to go! He will do research on what they are first and of course he’s going to bring a SHIT TON of sunscreen. No way are either of them going to suffer skIN DAMAGE T O D A Y. of course it’s important to keep hydrated too and he asks horikawa to teach him how to cook so he can make lil snackies for the saniwa.

Honestly he hates going outside and being under the sun. He is under this parasol as he watches the little one run about. Of course, Kashuu will always hold their hand as they walk about. He’s not letting this little one out of his fUCKING SIGHT.

Honestly the fact that the little one has labeled Kashuu as their legal guardian makes hm want to sob? Yes Kashuu is a bit...high maintenance and loves being pampered but the love and adoration of a little one - who is growing up all too fast mind you - is something....new to him? It’s comforting in a way, and it gives him another reason to always come home to them. It’s a little selfish, ti know that this child still needs him compared to Okita who threw him away when he was useless. Thus, Kashuu has a habit of trying to almost...take Hasebe’s spot as the attendant at times?

Anyway back to happiness: Kashuu watches the little one like a hawk but knows when to have fun. Half of the time he does get a weee bit distracted here and there - looking at cute clothes or spotting something that the little one likes! Maybe he’ll drag them around to a little festival stall or something to get food or buy things for peeps back at the citadel? Who knows?!

gOD DAMN RIGHT KASHUU IS GOING TO SCREAM THAT THIS KID IS DOING AMAZING THINGS.HE’S GOING TO RECORD ALL OF THIS TOO. HE WANTS THIS KID TO KNOW THAT HE’S SO FUCKING PROUD OF THEM AND EVERYTHING THAT THEY DO, HE’LL FIGHT A HO FOR THEM TF ARE YOU LOOKING AT???

At a PTA meeting, of course Kashuu is going to dress to the nines! A lil flashy but it’s most likely some kinda suit. Maybe a floral suit? Fuck yeah. Who the hell knows. Like black suits are fine and dandy but like...where’s the variety???He’s going to look like a DAMN MODEL

Whatever the kid needs, Kashuu will be there. He isn’t as perfect as Hasebe or Tomoe at like the normal school stuff but that doesn’t mean he can’t try! He does and can and will try to help damn it! He’ll ask for Hakata to teach him math if he gotta.

No matter what, Kashuu is going to want to be there. If the kid is suffering in school, he’ll hold their hands and walk them to school or do whatever he needs to for them. He’ll hold their hand during the meeting and he may not have receipts like HAsebe or Tomoe to show proof that the kid is going great but but Kashuu knows the lil one is doing amazing.

To Kashuu, it’s the little things that make the little one adorable and his desire to protect them just...grows stronger and stronger. They smile at him and work so damn hard that it reminds him much of Okita - how he kept on going despite his illness. He would be damned if this little one falls. He’s going to do everything to prevent it.

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 8,205

Chapter Warnings: swearing, referenced past suic.ide

Chapter Summary: In which Wilbur tries very hard to hold a productive meeting, and does not quite succeed.

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Seventeen: ‘til the work is done

In retrospect, it’s not his best idea. He seems to be full of those, lately. Not-great ideas. This one is foolish simply for the fact that he is already tired, and gifting energy to Schlatt is a strain on his already depleted reserves. It takes about twenty minutes for him to get dizzy, and another two after that before spots start drifting across his vision, and at that point, he has to admit defeat, cutting himself off mid-sentence and breaking their connection. Schlatt swears as he loses his tangibility.

“Fuck, that felt weird,” he says. “What the fuck was that, why’d you stop?”

He wets his lips. It takes longer than it should for the words to formulate.

“I told you, we’re essentially sharing a lifeforce, Schlatt,” he says. “There’s only so much I can give you.”

Schlatt starts hovering in the air again, regarding him with a dark stare. And then, his expression clears.

“Oh, I see, so you’re being a dumbass,” he says, and Wilbur wants to protest, but he can’t get a word in edgewise. “Why the fuck are you giving me shit you can’t afford to lose, then? Jesus Christ, Wilbur, would you sit down?”

“There isn’t time for that,” he replies. “I’ve spent too long up here already. I need to go and meet with the others.”

Schlatt stares at him for a long moment. He’s not sure why. And when he speaks, his voice is—strange.

“I was right about you,” he says. “You really don’t change. Not when it comes to yourself. You’re just as stupid and self-destructive as you always have been. And now that coating of paint you try to put on over it? That’s flaking off. The only question is how many people you’re going to bring down with you this time.” He shakes his head, and his eyes narrow, expression hovering somewhere between a dark satisfaction and something else, something difficult to interpret. “You’re wearing yourself thin. I see it, everyone else can probably see it. But you can’t. Or you do, but you can’t accept it.”

(you put on a smile for the masses an upbeat tone for your friends but you’re a sinking ship and you know it, and you think it might be easier to let yourself drown even though you know you won’t, because you cannot allow yourself to fail because you are leader you are president and this is everything you fought for so it is a fault in you if you cannot handle it so you push through you make yourself and you scream into your pillow and cry yourself to sleep because at the end of the day your self-loathing clings to you like cobwebs and secondhand smoke)

He inhales.

“I don’t see how me needing to have a meeting with everyone else has led you to that conclusion,” he says, tone frosty, “but you can think what you want. And besides, you can hardly talk. We’ve had a conversation like this already.”

He turns on his heel, letting his coat flare out behind him; though, it’s still damp, so the motion isn’t nearly as satisfying as it usually is. But Schlatt follows along with him, and he grits his teeth, letting each of his footfalls resound with purpose, with confidence that he is struggling to truly find.

This was definitely a bad idea. Engaging with Schlatt always is. He should know this by now, should know that a welcome distraction can turn unwelcome at the drop of a hat.

“I never said that I was any better,” Schlatt says, “but that’s the difference between you and me, Wilbur. I know exactly what I am. You don’t know who the fuck you are, so you hide behind labels because that makes it easier for you to think about.”

(general president exile villain and round and round it goes and there is truth to his words because he scrambles for stability scrambles to fit the old roles but the fact of the matter is that he is something new and he is floundering because for all that he wants to be better he has never known how so it’s casting a coin in a wishing well and hoping)

“I know exactly who I am for the moment,” he says, “and that’s someone who’s going to get rid of the fucking Egg and pummel Dream’s face into the ground. For now, that’s more than good enough.”

He gets to the stairs again, and takes them two at a time on his way down.

“Fine, then, just don’t come crying to me later,” Schlatt says. “So, what’s the deal with Dream anyway? How the fuck did he get out of prison?”

That actually gives him pause for a second.

“I’m not actually sure,” he says. “A question for the warden.” One that he does intend to ask, if only to know how, exactly, Dream made what was supposed to be a secure prison seem like child’s play to escape. Was he waiting for the right moment all along? He’s not sure he likes the implications of that,

(especially since he deemed the right moment to be after Wilbur’s return, during the implementation of a plan that he helped to form, and it sickens him that he might have played any role in Dream’s decision making, that he might have led everyone into these circumstances, eyes wide open but blind all the same)

but it would make sense, considering everything that he’s learned, considering what he now knows of the rot that’s woven  itself into Dream’s very being. The corruption that lends him power.

“How much have you even been here for?” he continues, glancing at the ghost out of the corner of his eye. “Do you have any idea what’s been going on, or have you just been fucking around since the last time I saw you?” When you ran away from Tubbo, he does not say, and he wonders if Schlatt catches it anyway.

There is a beat, and then, “I—know that Dream’s out,” Schlatt says, the words reluctant, and he suppresses a bark of laughter.

“So, you know jack shit,” he says.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“You know jack shit,” he repeats. “That’s fine. Stick around, I’m sure you’ll get caught up to speed.”

“Oh, great, yeah, that’s exactly what I want, hanging around you chumps some more,” Schlatt mutters. “What a good time. God, I need a drink. Or you know what, I’d settle for a fucking protein shake. You got any of those around?”

He doesn’t respond. It takes some effort, but anything he could say would only rile him up further, and any indication of actually, you do not need a drink, and I am going to make sure that you don’t get one literally ever is sure to set him off, which is exactly what he doesn’t need right now. So he lets Schlatt complain as he backtracks to the entrance hall, and then to the throne room where he assumes everyone else is.

His assumptions are proved correct the moment he draws close enough to hear everyone’s voices. Talking over each other, tones fluctuating. It sounds anything but peaceful.

Eret has moved their throne aside, he notes as he stops in the doorway. Most of the room is now taken up by a large wooden table, clearly meant to be a place for meeting. He appreciates the gesture, or would, if anyone seemed to be using it. His eyes find Techno and Phil first, next to a cluster of torches; Techno is still wringing water from his hair, looking very put out, but his posture is tense, on guard, and Phil looks about the same, even as he helps Ranboo get the last of his armor off without flicking himself with water.

(it is easy to forget that his family is among enemies there, that at least a few of these people would like to see them dead)

He finds Fundy next. He’s standing by himself, ears flat against his skull, and every now and then he twitches toward Eret. But the main spectacle in the room is the ongoing argument, and he narrows his eyes, trying to pick out the participants and their stances. There’s Quackity—and that’s an interesting scar on his face, though with what he knows of the man’s combat ability, or lack thereof, he was bound to gain an injury like that sooner or later, with the server being what it is—shouting at Sam, who looks like hell, frankly, and Puffy next to Sam trying to defend him, maybe, and Sapnap by Quackity’s side trying to calm him, and then there’s Eret, who appears to be trying to mediate with little success.

“—don’t fucking care,” Quackity is saying, and he sounds near-hysterical, words spat out at a record pace, even for him, “I do not fucking care what the rules were, I do not fucking care, just, fuck, Puffy, stop trying to defend him, if he’d kept Dream locked up like he was supposed to, like his job was, like we all trusted him to, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place, just, I don’t fucking understand how you could’ve let that happen, Sam, I don’t—”

He keeps going, and at the same time, Eret’s voice overlaps—“We’ve been through this already, Quackity, and I don’t see how this is helping.”—with Puffy’s—“You’re the one who needs to fucking stop, it wasn’t his fault, so stop yelling at him!”—and Sapnap’s—“C’mon, Q, please, I know, but you think tearing into each other is gonna help right now?”—and Sam himself is just standing there, taking it, eyes dull.

On the other side of the room, Tommy and Tubbo appear in the opposing set of doors and draw up short, Tubbo placing his hand on Tommy’s shoulder to pull him back, face settling into what might be resignation. This isn’t the first time, then.

Schlatt whistles. “Damn,” he says. “Something about this is familiar.”

“I do not want to know that,” he replies, eyeing Quackity. “Don’t tell me anything about your relationship, I categorically do not want to know.”

“Wait, what the fuck do you think I’m talking about—”

He meets Techno’s gaze. Techno raises an eyebrow, pointedly squeezes his hair with a towel, and inclines his head, as if to say, You deal with this. He glares back, trying to convey, Fuck off, I am not in charge of corralling these fuckers, and Techno rolls his eyes, the arsehole, because of course, he knows that that’s a damn lie, and actually, he kind of has put himself in charge of corralling these fuckers.

(something about this is familiar indeed, and these could be earlier days if he takes a step back and squints, looks at them all through blurry vision, and this could be a nation risen up around a drug van if he tilts his head just right, and he could be in charge of leading them, because the original members are all here, him and Tommy and Tubbo and Fundy and Eret all here, except the arguments are sharper and lined with more desperation than any of their original squabbles, before the war became real, before everything, before it all fell apart for the first time, before it was never meant to be, and he can lead, can pretend that it is all like it was then, but it would be unwise, perhaps, to forget that it is not like then at all)

So he steps further inside, notes with some displeasure the way that no one has marked his presence yet, and says, as loud as he can, “What the fuck are you all shouting at each other for, then?”

Quackity cuts off abruptly, which solves eighty percent of the noise problem, and Puffy stops after he does, which solves another fifteen percent. Quackity wheels toward him, not quite shocked, but still surprised, perhaps.

“Holy shit,” he says. “They said you were back, but—wow, Wilbur, you’re looking good. For a dead guy, I mean.”

“Thank you, Quackity,” he says, nodding. He strides up to the table, though he doesn’t sit, and splays his hands against it. It would probably be more picturesque if he weren’t still dripping a bit, but he made his choice to forgo towels and that’s the hill he’s dying on, apparently. “You’re also looking good. It’s nice to see you.”

“Tell him he looks sexy,” Schlatt suggests, and with a great amount of fortitude, he ignores him.

“So,” he continues, “is any of this arguing actually something that needs to be happening right now? Or can we move on to arguing about different things?”

Quackity’s face twists. “I’d say we do need to be arguing about it, actually,” he says. “Look, Wilbur, I know you—you left a while ago, right, so you’ve missed a lot, so I’m not sure how much about this you know. But Sam was supposed to be in charge of the prison. He had one job, and that was to keep Dream in his cell. And now look at where we are. So, yeah, I’d say it’s something that needs to be happening.”

(people keep saying that, that he left, and that’s not quite right, because leaving is slinging a bag over one shoulder and waving goodbye and leaving implies going somewhere when he wanted to go nowhere at all, and leaving is a sanitary way to phrase the desperate exit he made and perhaps they don’t know better or perhaps they do but don’t want to confront it but either way something in him recoils whenever they say he left because that is not the word is not the word at all and if they’re going to bring it up he wishes that they would actually bring it up rather than dance all around it dance in quicksteps that serve nothing)

“I agree that it’s important,” he says. “I would like Sam to explain what happened. But I also don’t see that recriminations are where we need to be directing our energy at the moment. Considering that what’s done is done” —He meets Quackity’s gaze as steadily as he can, meets his gaze and brings all the weight of their history to bear, from the debate floor to the podium and the stage to the dark caverns of the rebellion— “and going through all of the ways that everyone in this room has fucked everyone else over hardly seems like the best use of our time.”

He knows the statement won’t land like it should. He knows that he of all people has no right to ask for this. But the longer he stands here, the more aware he is of all the bad blood in this room, the more aware he is that this particular group of people is like a powder keg set to explode, that they could all turn on each other and do Dream’s job for him at a poorly placed jab or threat. The air is thick with the complicated web that binds them all.

(betrayals and lives taken and homes destroyed and even the bedrock of a once stable foundation shaken and torn up)

“Well, that’s kind of a convenient stance to take,” Quackity shoots back, and it’s precisely the response he expected “considering what you did.”

“I’m aware,” he says, drowning out the way that Tommy audibly starts to protest. “I think my point still stands, though. Unless you really think now is the time to air out everyone’s dirty laundry. I’m sure Dream would find it entertaining, at least.”

(the words taste like ash and he feels like a hypocrite but he can’t let them see how off balance he is can’t let them know because a leader is needed and he could step aside and let someone else take the position but that has always been a weakness of his, his need for control, so even when the control is slipping he grasps it with both hands and hangs on to it with all his worth whether it’s wise or not because someone needs to lead and he does not trust himself but he trusts others even less and he has always been one to take on the responsibility even when he ought not to even when)

Quackity breathes in and out, eyes narrow.

“Alright,” he says. “No, you’re right.” He steps up to the table as well, pulling out a chair for himself, though he doesn’t yet sit. He also, Wilbur notes, does not apologize to Sam, but that’s not a requirement, even though the way Puffy is glaring suggests that she would like it to be.

“Wait,” someone says, and Wilbur starts, looking to—George, and how did he not realize George was here, too? Perhaps because he’s been quiet. Quieter than the norm, though he can’t say that he’s ever known George all that well. Or perhaps it’s just a surprise to see him around. “Is he in charge?” George continues. “Why is he in charge?” He sounds genuinely confused more than upset, but he still feels his hackles raise.

(he is placing himself in this position and it feels natural and right and feels wrong and unsteady like his footing is slipping like he’s on the edge of the cliff face and below the rockslide is starting but he can do this, he can, he can lead this, it’s just one meeting and he can do it because if not him then who else will and he can do it)

“I’m not ‘in charge,’” he

(lies? he doesn’t know doesn’t know)

says. “I’m just trying to get a meeting started. We’re all here, aren’t we?”

“Everyone we were able to find is in this room,” Eret says softly, and then, to everyone else. “And I agree with Wilbur. We need to plan out our next move. And seeing as a meeting table has been provided—” They gesture, rather pointedly, and Puffy is the first to nod, pulling out a seat and all but collapsing into it, running a hand through her hair. Sam is next, and then Tommy and Tubbo enter fully, situating themselves directly to his right. Phil is the next to approach, followed by Techno and Ranboo, and he does not miss the way Quackity’s eyes track Techno’s movements.

Before long, it’s just him and Quackity standing. A concession might be needed here, or at least, a show of one; he doesn’t actually want to cause too much conflict with the man, if it can be avoided, not right this second, so he tilts his head slightly and sits in a chair of his own, though carefully, so as not to slump into it. Sitting seems to make him realize just how tired he still is, and the urge to let himself sag is strong. But the ploy works; Quackity seats himself, Sapnap on one side and George on the other, and really, this has to be one of the strangest collections of allies to have ever existed.

It reminds him of the final days of the rebellion, a little bit. The way that so many flocked to their banner to depose Schlatt. It’s difficult to look back on, but that aspect of it, at least, is not entirely tainted. There was a sense of camaraderie among them that is not quite present here, but he doesn’t miss it for himself; in those days, too, he held himself apart, struggling to resolve himself to what he was going to do, knowing too well that the traitor they all feared existed was him.

But there’s people here who weren’t here then. And people here then who are missing now.

“Who couldn’t be found?” he asks, and it is Puffy who answers first.

“Niki,” she says, and his heart skips several beats, unprepared for that answer, though its truth is undeniable. “I tried, but we only had so much time, and I have no idea where she’s been staying these days. There also wasn’t time to get to Foolish, but he lives a long way out, so he’s probably fine.”

It is a struggle not to react outwardly. Niki. He hadn’t even thought to—

No. Now isn’t the time.

(even though he wronged her, too, wronged her as he wronged everyone else and she deserved so much better than what he could give her and she is a dear friend so dear that even Ghostbur always remembered her but it seems that in the midst of everything else he might have failed her again and she deserves a thousand apologies and all the atonement he can offer but now he may never get that chance, may never and now is not the time to focus on it but oh gods Niki)

“Jack Manifold, too,” Tubbo chimes in. “He was staying in Snowchester, but I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Karl’s gone,” Quackity says. “But he does that a lot, so that might not necessarily mean anything.” His voice is too strained to be causal, and Wilbur has to make an effort not to react to that, too, though for an entirely different reason. He’s not sure how much Quackity knows. Not sure how much he should say, if anything at all.

(but he has seen Karl bargain with a god has seen the universe cling to him has seen the way he sidesteps in and out of reality and through time to the places inbetween and he would not have thought it of Karl of all people but perhaps that is the point)

“Hannah,” Sam offers, and nothing else. It’s not a name he knows.

“That might be everybody, though,” Sapnap says. “Alyssa and Callahan are long gone, and people like Vikkstar and Lazar haven’t been around for a while, now. Or, wait, actually, I have no idea where Hbomb is.”

“And there’s Purpled, too,” George says around a yawn. “No clue what he’s been up to these days, but he was always pretty close to Punz.”

“Oh, yeah, and the vines were all over his UFO,” Puffy agrees. “Um, and we might want to add Skeppy onto that. I have no clue where he is, but I’d be surprised if he weren’t Team Egg, since Bad is.”

There is a moment of silence.

“Is that actually everybody, then?” George says. “That’s more people than I thought.”

“It could be worse,” Phil says. His head is tilted back, eyes tracing the ceiling, though Wilbur knows him better than to think he’s actually relaxed. “We know about Dream, and BadBoyHalo, Antfrost, Ponk, and Punz. It’s a maybe on Niki, Jack Manifold, Hbomb, Skeppy, Karl—”

“Not Karl,” Quackity insists, and Wilbur is inclined to agree with that much, at least, even while Phil presses on.

“—Purpled, and—Hannah, did you say? And possibly Foolish, since we don’t know, but I’m inclined to agree with Puffy that he’s probably alright. So absolute worst-case scenario, that’s twelve, maybe thirteen people we’re up against. Pretty even odds.”

Phil’s definition of even odds, he thinks, is slightly skewed.

“Yeah, except you’re forgetting that the Egg is a demon. Dreamon, whatever. And Dream is also a demon, kind of,” Sapnap says. “That doesn’t sound even to me.”

“He’s still homeless,” Techno murmurs.

“The fuck does it matter if he’s homeless?” Quackity snaps, and then visibly quails when Technoblade looks at him, even though it’s also obvious that he’s trying not to. History there that he’s not privy to, perhaps, and he’s hardly going to bring it up right now.

“Well, I mean, we’ve already—” Fundy tries to speak up, but he’s drowned out by about four other people trying to weigh in on whether Dream’s homelessness has any bearing on the conversation, and Wilbur takes a second to frown at Techno for the hornet’s nest he’s kicked up, and by that time, Puffy’s speaking again.

(it’s fine, it’s still under control, he has this under control, it’s fine, and so what if he’s running on too few hours of sleep and so what if he wants to set his head down on the table and stay there, because he’s not about to actually do that, and it’s fine, he’s fine, it’s all fine)

“What about you guys?” she says, and everyone else falls quieter. “You were looking for dreamon-related stuff, right? Did you find anything? Honestly, we weren’t sure that you guys would be back this soon.”

“Is that where you went?” Schlatt asks. “How the fuck did that lead to you antagonizing a god?”

He ignores him, still. It’s the only option, really. “We went through as many of the stronghold’s” —There are several exclamations at that, at the fact that they know where one of the server’s strongholds is, as well as a sigh from Phil, no doubt an objection to spreading that tidbit around, but he continues— “books as we could, but we didn’t find anything. I did attempt to provoke a god into helping us, so we’ll see if that pans out at all, but I wouldn’t call it a wasted trip. I also managed to confirm for sure that the Egg is a dreamon, but I think we pretty much knew that.”

There is another moment of complete silence.

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” Quackity asks, and from where he’s drifting behind him, Schlatt starts cackling, loud and extremely irritating, a wheezy undertone to it that makes no sense considering that he does not need to breathe.

“I attempted to provoke a god into helping us,” he repeats. “I’m not sure whether I succeeded or not—in the helping area, at least. They were very provoked. But—” He pauses, considering. It’s always a tricky game, figuring out what to say and what to keep close to the chest, but this case is harder than most. “Actually, Sapnap and George, I’d like to ask, were you aware that Dream is a god? Or was a god?”

He is predicting the chaos that erupts after that, all exclamations and incoherent sounds, most of them some variation on either “What?” or “Fuck!” or some combination of both. But he keeps his gaze flickering between George and Sapnap, measuring their reactions. George’s face goes blank—shock, he thinks, rather than the expression of someone being caught out. And Sapnap’s jaw drops slightly.

“Dream’s not a god,” he says, and his voice overrides everyone else’s. “Dream’s not—there’s no way he could’ve kept that from us. Absolutely no way.”

“He’s not now,” he agrees. “He separated himself from the vast majority of his power, somehow, when he realized he’d be corrupted by the remnants of the dreamon. But he was one. I’m sure of that much. He may have hidden it from you, but I am certain of it.”

Sapnap’s face reddens.

“Aw, I think you hurt his feelings, Wilbur,” Schlatt says.

“Dream’s not a god,” Sapnap says again. “He’s not.”

“Even if he is, what does it matter?” Fundy says suddenly. “Especially if he’s not one now. It’s the dreamons that we have to deal with. The Egg, and whatever’s left in Dream. So if we don’t have anything that can take care of that, then what the fuck is all of this for? We have nothing.”

“Weird time for the kid to grow a spine,” Schlatt comments, and he’s ignoring him, he’s ignoring him, even though the vitriol in his son’s voice hits like a knife driven through stitches, back into a wound not yet healed. Fundy’s not looking at him, and the avoidance only makes it worse.

(it is directed at you it has to be it has to be that it is directed at you and it hurts hurts hurts and there is no one to blame but yourself and it hurts and you’re so tired and you have to stay in control but it hurts)

A hand touches his. He glances down to find that he’s clenched them, that his knuckles are white and his palms are stinging from the bite of his fingernails in his flesh, and Tommy has placed his hand on his, watching him. It is an effort to relax even a little bit, but for Tommy’s sake, he manages it.

Tubbo clears his throat. “What Fundy is getting at, I think, is that even with the stuff that me and Fundy have, it won’t be enough to kill them. Maybe we could banish the Egg, but apparently the exorcism we used on Dream wasn’t entirely effective, so we can’t be sure of that much. So maybe we’re not quite at square one, still, but we haven’t gotten that far. And if we can’t beat the dreamons, we can’t beat the Egg. Since the Egg is a dreamon.” He shrugs. “We’ve managed to keep it out. And as long as none of us break the enchantments from the inside, we should be fine to hold out here. But in the way of attacks, we don’t have much.”

“Great,” Quackity says. “So where the fuck does that leave us, then?”

He narrows his eyes at the table, attempting to collect his thoughts, and then looks back up. “I think we’re getting a bit off track,” he says. “Sam, is there anything that you can remember from the moment that Dream broke out that you think might be relevant?”

He tries to keep his voice, if not gentle, then at least free of blame, perhaps because he sees what Quackity apparently doesn’t; there is nothing he could say that would assign more fault than Sam has already assigned to himself. His eyes are dark, shadowed, and what skin is visible above the lines of his mask is pale and gaunt. It’s only been two days, little though that seems possible, but Sam appears as though he hasn’t eaten or slept for a week. Frankly, Wilbur hopes that he’s not planning to join in the fight that is sure to be on the horizon; he hardly looks as if he could effectively wield a sword. He is a far cry from the confident, stoic warden he met in the prison a few weeks ago.

“I don’t know,” Sam says, voice half a moan. “I think—I didn’t go in his cell. I know that for sure. I’d have no reason to. I didn’t go in, and the lava wasn’t lowered, so somehow, he escaped despite that. Which doesn’t make any sense, since the prison was designed to cut people off from any extraneous powers that they might otherwise have access to, and that includes admin abilities.” He stops for a second. The table has fallen silent again, though this time, there is a certain anticipation to it, a horror. Even Quackity looks considering rather than outraged. “I didn’t see him coming. He stabbed right through my armor. And I don’t—maybe it’s related to the demon thing. Or maybe—Wilbur, you said he was a god?”

His voice rises in pitch on the last sentence, cracks a bit on the last word, and Wilbur is suddenly reminded that Sam, like Sapnap and George, has known Dream for a very long time. Known Dream for a very long time and somehow, not known this.

“He was,” he says. “I don’t know how much of that power he still has. Not much, I’d imagine, but in combination with demonic corruption, perhaps that doesn’t matter. And in any case, it’s not something you would have known to plan for.”

“Wait,” Schlatt says, “is that why he could see me? Wilbur, what does it mean that he could see me? Does that mean something?”

He blinks. That—might actually be a good point. One that he hasn’t thought about in some time, though where he fits that into the mess of puzzle pieces spread out before him, he has no idea.

“So we’re back to square one there as well,” Phil says.

“Then I’ll reiterate, where the fuck does this leave us?” Quackity says. “We’ve been doing a whole lot of talking here, but not a whole lot of actual planning. Does anybody actually have an idea of what to do, or are we going around in circles?”

“I don’t see you offering much of anything either,” Eret points out.

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t know what the fuck is happening!” Quackity shoots back. “At least I can admit that instead of yanking everyone around pretending like I know what I’m doing!”

That is a barb, probably, but Quackity isn’t even looking at him, is glaring at Eret, and this is about to erupt into another argument, and he thinks he’s going to allow it to, because even laying out all the information available to them isn’t getting them anywhere, and even if he had the ability to impose control over the room, there is still a part of him that whispers, that cries out that he does not have the right, and any moment now they will decide that punishing him for his crimes should be higher on the list of priorities, especially if he tries to step back into his old role, and—he’s not nearly as over this as he hoped he was, is he?

(he forgot how to trust a long time ago and perhaps these fears are baseless but that makes them no less potent and he forgot how to trust a long time ago he cannot trust them he cannot and he holds none of his former power not even that which was rightfully his he holds none of it and he cannot trust)

(he can control this he can lead but)

(but he)

(he’s supposed to be)

(a question, one that you do not want to confront: were you ever in control?)

So he lets them. He lets them talk over each other. Even Tommy joins in after a moment, after a sideways glance and another squeeze of his hand, and he can’t even pay attention to what everyone is saying.

It is difficult to keep his shoulders erect. There is a weight trying to bring his head down to his chest. It’s just an argument, and he can hardly expect anything less from these people, so bitter have the tides of history turned between them all, but it feels like a failure on his part, and his thoughts are fracturing again, flying beyond his grasp.

“Wil,” Phil murmurs next to him, but he just shakes his head.

“Yeah, this is going great,” Schlatt says. “Good job with the meeting. Y’know, when I was in charge, I didn’t let any of this happen. I ruled with an iron first. People listened to me. They respected me.”

“And then you died in a drug van,” he says, “from a heart attack, surrounded by people who hated you.”

This gets him an extraordinarily strange glance from Phil, but no one else is paying attention. He can’t keep track of who is snapping at who, but they’re all snapping at each other. In a way, Schlatt is right; the peace lasted, what, ten minutes at most?

Schlatt is silent.

Fundy is looking at him, too. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t want to read the expression on his face. He doesn’t want—

“Wait,” Schlatt says suddenly, “wait, fuck, do you feel that?” He sounds genuinely alarmed, for once, and after a second, Wilbur feels it too, feels

(the air in the room alight and alive and their voices waver in and out of tune with the underlying melody and the regard lies heavily on them all and the universe is always there is always with you in the back of your mind but it is leaning in closer leaning in over your shoulder and you feel)

the way the atmosphere shifts. His ears fill with white noise. Everyone is still arguing, and they need to stop, but he can’t force the words out. Beside him, Phil jolts. Tommy grips his hand tighter. He doesn’t know if they’re saying anything, can’t hear anything past the ringing.

(a realization, dim and far too late: he really should have tried to get some more sleep)

Schlatt curses. He can hear that, for some reason, loud and clear. And then, he becomes aware of the tether again, aware that the tether is being pulled, is being yanked on, a burst of energy departing from him, energy that he’s fairly sure he might not actually have to give, and—

“Hey, could you all just shut up for two fucking seconds?” Schlatt says, voice almost causal, strong, no longer echoing, and the static clears from his mind and ears, and the room is once again quiet. His hands have begun to shake, and the tether is pulling on his heart, he thinks. He doesn’t have to turn to know that Schlatt stands behind his chair, solid as anything.

His heart is literally fluttering. That might not be good.

“What,” Quackity says, “the fuck.”

And he doesn’t say anything else. Because the god appears, then, hovering over the meeting table, cloak fluttering without wind, twin halos circling their head, and it’s interesting, that he can see those now without straining his mind. The space under their hood no longer appears full of shadows, but rather of the universe itself, a darkness that is not empty, starstuff swirling just out of view.

“Oh, shit, that actually is a god,” Schlatt mutters.

He hears the humming. It bolsters him, a bit, boosts his flagging strength. He takes in a deep breath, and his heart calms, steadies.

He focuses.

“Is hovering over tables the only way you know how to make an entrance?” he asks.

The god’s hood swings his way.

“I asked the universe,” they say. “The universe did not refuse.”

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” Quackity is muttering under his breath. Eret is staring, jaw slack. Puffy has grabbed onto Sam’s arm. The reactions on his side of the table are less pronounced; Phil and Ranboo have seen the god before, Techno is not one to be impressed without what he considers due reason, and Tommy refuses to be cowed on general principle, though he does hear him and Tubbo both let out a, “Holy shit,” under their breaths, almost in unison.

But Sapnap has risen to his feet, eyes wide.

And George says, “Dream?” His voice does not waver. He sounds curious, confused. Perhaps hopeful.

The god actually seems to still, the motion of their cloak dying down as they turn away from Wilbur and toward the other side of the table.

“Once,” they say, and Wilbur is surprised that they’re answering at all, to be honest. “No longer.” They pause. “He loved you. May yet still, under the corruption that has taken him. I am sorry.”

The god does not know human emotions. The god is not a person in their own right, not really; they are built of the power of a god and little else. But somehow, Wilbur almost believes that they mean it.

Sapnap makes a gasping sound, like air tried to escape his lungs but got caught in his throat. George has sat up straighter in his seat, his whole body leaning toward where the god is hovering. His hands rest on the table, palms facing upward, as if in invitation.

If it is one, the god does not take it.

(DreamXD, Karl called the god, DreamXD, Dream XD, Dream Xed, Dream crossed out, Dream but not, and perhaps this is the cruelest thing he could have done to these two, inviting a facsimile of their friend to hover in front of them, a reminder of what they lost and are not likely to ever have again, because this god could never hope to replace the man that Wilbur remembers from the beginning, the Dream that used to be and will likely never be again)

“I asked the universe,” the god says again, and turns back toward him. “The universe did not refuse. The universe sees you, and the universe would reply.” They pause, allowing that declaration to simmer in the air for a moment. Their voice echoes, and he can hear in that echo the overlay of the song, the tune, the notes that the stars hum reverberating in the world’s atoms. “If I alone were strong enough to exorcise this corruption, he would have done so when we were whole. But you have met with the universe, and the universe would aid me, so that I might aid you.”

His attention is fixed on them. But in his peripheral vision, he sees Sapnap slump back into his seat, face contorted.

(yes, this is the cruelest thing he could have done, bringing their dearest friend’s mirror reflection here)

“And what—” He stops. Wets his lips. His mouth is dry. “And what aid would that be?”

The folds of their cloak stir. A hand emerges, and the hand, too, is darkness-that-is-the-universe, and it is not connected to any arm that he can see. Their fingers splay wide, and then dropping from the air and onto the table, there are two swords. On first glance, they seem to have been forged from diamonds, sparkling blue in the throne room’s flickering firelight, but there are runes crawling up and down the blades and hilts, runes that seem to squirm and dance and shift.

And the runes are lit with starlight. He’s not sure that anyone else can see it. But he knows.

(the runes hum)

“The void is not so easily subsumed,” the god says, “and it is from the void that the corruption comes. But the void is part of the universe even as it exists outside of the universe. Corruption can be destroyed.” The hand gestures to the swords, now lying beneath them on the table. “With great effort, but the universe has joined me in it. These are the result.”

“I’ve never seen runes like those before,” Tubbo breathes, eyes wide. He leans forward, apparently overcoming his wariness. “These can—these can kill a dreamon? Like, actually?”

“The blow must be lethal,” the god says. “But the corruption can be destroyed. You asked me for help. This is all I can offer you.”

“It’s far better than nothing,” he says, and pauses, just to hear the hum, now coming from multiple sources, the swords and the god alike. “Thank you.”

“Do not fail,” the god says, and under any other circumstance, Wilbur might laugh at the words, so stereotypical, like something out of a television show. Do not fail. As if he plans to, as if he would without this prompting. “Do not allow this to be in vain.”

The world folds around them. The air compresses. Just as they appeared, they are vanish again, the only sign of their presence the swords that still glimmer before them all. The atmosphere lightens, the sensation of being watched easing away, like storm clouds dissipating. The god is truly gone, then, and staring at the blades, he’s not sure what to feel. He supposes that he hoped for more, somehow, hoped that the god would have the power to solve the issue for them, that if he could just persuade them to act then their troubles would go away. But it makes sense that they can’t; if the god’s power were enough to destroy a dreamon, then Dream wouldn’t have been possessed in the first place, and none of this would be happening at all.

This is the second best thing. The universe itself has interceded.

(and it’s such a strange thought is something that he never would have thought plausible because the universe does not interfere the universe watches and waits but he has been there in the cradle of the cosmos and felt them watching heard them whisper the stars and the space between and they watch but they watch with love and the universe has not fixed their problems has not made them magically disappear but it has given the means to do it themselves and upon further reflection that is like the universe that is very like the universe and perhaps what it has given them is hope)

“Well, that was enlightnin’,” Techno drawls. “So glad we got all of that cleared up. Can I have one of those fancy swords, or do we need to have a whole argument about this, too?”

“Why the fuck are you being so calm about this?” Quackity says. “Why the fuck—what the fuck even was—and you!” He stands, the motion quick and sharp, and he throws an accusing finger in his—no, in Schlatt’s direction, because the god is gone and he can feel his heart fluttering again, his energy tugged away from him at a rate that should perhaps be considered alarming, and he can sense Schlatt’s presence behind him, solid and breathing. “How are you here, you’re dead, you are so fucking dead, I ate your fucking heart that’s how dead you are, I literally own your, your leg bones, I have your femurs, how are you here, and can you just die again, right now?”

“Aw, did you miss me, honey bear?” Schlatt says.

“No, I hate your fucking guts, I hate you so fucking much, you are—” And he keeps going, and Sapnap has shaken himself out of his stupor enough to glare daggers at—shit, at his fiance’s ex-husband, and that’s a bit messy, isn’t it? And absolutely no one at the table appears pleased that Schlatt is here, even though several people seem to be too focused on absorbing what’s just happened with the literal god to be too concerned at the sudden reappearance of a former dictator, but Quackity continues and Schlatt eggs him on, and Tubbo is a few seats down, swiveled in his chair and staring at Schlatt with an expression that’s impossible to determine

(but that he doesn’t like, doesn’t like the mix of hope and fear and want and disgust, doesn’t like it at all)

and it’s all too much, and his chest hurts. Like it’s too tight. Like his lungs aren’t inflating.

(Schlatt died of a heart attack hated and alone even surrounded as he was he was alone and he died of a heart attack of a)

He glances around the table one last time, hoping for some indication that somebody, anybody, wants this conversation to get back on track. Instead, his gaze lands on Fundy, who is watching Schlatt with shock and open anticipation but very little anger, and somehow, that is what does it, what sends everything boiling over, the fact that his son is looking at Schlatt with a more welcoming expression than he greeted him with.

(and he deserves it he deserves it he knows but)

He never had control here. He has to face that.

He yanks at the tether, pulls with what little strength he has left, and the flow of energy halts, and Schlatt goes translucent mid-sentence.

“Just to be transparent, the bastard’s always around,” he says into the silence, rising from his seat, blinking black spots from his vision. His own voice sounds distant, but clear, at least. “But he literally has to draw from my lifeforce to do that, so that’s enough for now, I think. Please direct your complaints to the empty air rather than me, as I have very little say in where he decides to go poking around, and I probably agree with all of your objections to his general everything in any case.” He leans against the table, and tries not to make it obvious that that’s what’s keeping him upright. “I suggest we conclude our discussion for now, and come back in a few hours to actually formulate a plan based on our new resources.”

He gives it a second, but only waits for one person—Puffy, he thinks, though his vision is swimming—to nod, hesitantly, before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Going anywhere. Anywhere else.

(you lost control of them and you’re losing control of yourself and how long until you have to admit that you never had control in the first place that you claim to be better but don’t even know what that means that the paint really is scraping off and once it’s all gone there will be no more lying to yourself and then where will you be, Wilbur, where will you be)

No one stops him. A few people call out. Schlatt—sounding irritated, but that’s tough; he’s going to have to deal with it—and Tommy, and Phil.

He took a few minutes before the meeting began. To compose himself, to relax. That didn’t work, so he’ll take a few hours. And then get back to it. There’s no choice otherwise, after all. No real rest until this nightmare is over with, whenever that may be.

He ignores the voice that whispers that he’s not going to make it that far. He’s pushed through times like this before.

He can do it again.

[nyerus]

His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of XianLe -- Xie Lian

I wanted to do a little meta for Xie Lian to celebrate his birthday, about why he’s an incredible and unique character! One of my absolute faves. Happy Birthday Lianlian! ヽ(o´∀`)ﾉ♪♬

(Spoiler Warning!!!) (Also: massive length warning--get snacks!)

Xie Lian and The Hero’s Journey

One of the most interesting things about Xie Lian is that his personal arc starts near the end. Meaning that he is already nearly fully-realized by the time we meet him in book 1. He has only a few steps left in his classical Hero’s Journey, since TGCF starts in media res. A lot of his growth has been completed--which we witness more first-hand in books 2 and 4--so by the time we meet Xie Lian, he is already endured the most painful of his trials. It leaves him with the traits readers first pick up on: calm, confident, humble, and kind.

The main steps he has left to complete in his journey are the quintessential “atonement with the Father” and his “return home.” These stages of the Hero’s Journey are actually played somewhat straight in TGCF, and the former stage is actually the main plot of the novel. The stages are not meant to be literal, but metaphorical tools for literary analysis, as most books we read employ them in one way or another. TGCF does so as well, just out of order. So Xie Lian’s confrontation with Jun Wu (atonement), then getting his happy ending with Hua Cheng (return home) are the respective stages we see play out in the “present” narrative.

(However, he does have a “call to action stage” nestled within the present-time plotline. One can almost think of this as one Hero’s Journey nestled inside another.)

Xie Lian and The Heaven’s Will

The Heavens shook spectacularly when Xie Lian ascended. Each ascension, the Heavens greeted him with grandeur, even on what he considered his “fluke” of a second. And on his third ascension, the Heavens announced his return in a way that no one had ever seen before--by astonishing all its residents; bringing down the gilded palaces of other gods, and having the ancient clock sound off so fervently that it broke free of its hinges.

There is a lot of symbolism in this alone.

While Xie Lian’s narration (and the reactions of the other heavenly officials, including Ling Wen) paints his third ascension as a mix of comedic and tragic, we can interpret this scene differently. Xie Lian is the only one to have ascended thrice. He is the only one for whom the Heavens shook so powerfully. It isn’t because he’s a disgraced laughing stock--it’s because the Heaven know his true character, and his true strength.

(As an aside--see this post of mine about Heaven as an entity, separate from the Heavenly Capital and gods therein.)

It isn’t a big stretch to conclude that the Heavens show Xie Lian a particular amount of favoritism that it doesn’t to anyone else. One of the explanations for this could be that Xie Lian is the closest thing to the physical representation of the Heaven’s Will™.

This isn’t to say that Xie Lian is perfect. He isn’t, by any means. But he doesn’t have to be. Further thinking of the Heavens along the classic Taoist principles that TGCF draws from, the point is that Xie Lian tries. He works hard with what he has, embraces his fate and destiny, and makes the best of it as much as he can. Xie Lian himself doesn’t set out to be perfect. That is not his goal. His goal is to be a good person who is able to help people. He is morally upright, sincere, and humble. He seeks to maintain balance. These are treasured qualities.

Ultimately, he is human. He makes grievous mistakes, he makes bad decisions, and so on. But at the end of the day, Xie Lian lacks no conviction about his ideology. Even though he endured hell, and very nearly succumbed to darkness, there was always a part of him that held onto that notion that people were worth saving. Even at his worst, he still hesitated before causing harm. And when the man with the bamboo hat helped him--just a single gesture--it was enough for Xie Lian to rediscover that part of himself. His beliefs were re-affirmed, and he found the strength he needed to carry them.

The Heavens did not penalize Xie Lian for needing help. In fact, they rewarded him with ascension itself. When Xie Lian accepted his grief, he began to overcome it. He refused to fall into total despair--and while the actual nature of his second ascension are ambiguous, it’s probable that this is why he ascended. Not because he fought against Bai Wuxiang (because he wasn’t even the one to “win” that battle physically), but because he stood against him in the first place. Xie Lian’s grief, subsequent resolve, and decision to ultimately oppose everything Bai Wuxiang represented--THAT was his Heavenly Tribulation. And he passed with flying colors (much to Jun Wu’s intense fury).

[CONTINUED UNDER CUT DUE TO LENGTH.]

What it fundamentally comes down to, is that Xie Lian chooses to be compassionate. He does so even and especially in the face of adversity. Choosing to be kind when it is the hardest path of all is the mark of true courage and strength. It can’t be said it enough: Xie Lian very consciously makes the choice to do good even when it is hard for him. Even when he doesn’t want to. Because being a good and moral person doesn’t mean that you never have negative thoughts, and for sure Xie Lian gets frustrated and upse. It doesn’t mean you never make mistakes or never hurt people, because Xie Lian has done all those things before as well. After all, he is human, god or not. Things are not black-and-white, and never will be. But staying true to one’s ideals is what matters.

When Xie Lian made the decision to help Yong’An during the drought, for example, he knew it may be futile. He knew that he was breaking rules, going against what everyone else was saying. But he knew in his heart that it was the morally responsible thing to do. He is not the type of person to sit by quietly when there are people in need. He cannot see injustice and despair, and turn a blind eye to it. It also isn’t necessary (or even possible) for him to help literally everyone--as he learns the hard way. But doing what he can, where he can--that’s more than enough for Heaven to favor him. Because that’s the sign of someone who is genuinely compassionate and just.

So it’s no wonder that the Heavens favored him more than others. With a pure heart and strong sense of justice, while still being humble and patient--that’s all the Heavens need.

It’s even ironic that Xie Lian spoke out against the very “Heavens” themselves in book 2, at the height of his pride. But he was actually speaking out against the institution of heaven, and the overly-conservative beliefs that the gods (Heavenly Officials) held. Xie Lian has an extremely non-traditional view of looking at things.

His ideas go against the grain of what has been held true to the people of the world for centuries, but are actually in line with many modern philosophies--that one should not give much importance to idol worship, and instead focus on doing good deeds. That gods, being immortal ascended humans, should display the same humility and temperance; that they not hold themselves in higher regard or expect others to be subservient or fearful. This could very much be in line with what the Heaven’s will actually may be. Why the Heavens favor him so--because Xie Lian understands, in every sense, that gods are only human.

Xie Lian’s Character Growth

“I WON’T CHANGE! EVEN IF IT’S PAINFUL, I WON’T CHANGE. EVEN IF I DIE, I WON’T CHANGE. I WILL NEVER CHANGE!” (ch.239)

That’s the big thing about Xie Lian. It’s what sets him apart from many other characters. From the beginning to the end of his journey, his motivations and beliefs do not change. Only the nature of his motivations, and the basis of his beliefs change. That is to say, he believed that helping others was the right thing to do when he was 17 years old. 800 years later, he still feels this way. It’s just that he approaches the concept differently.

As a teenager, he was naive and coming from a place of high privilege. He was unable to understand the true plights of the common man, and his concepts of helping them--while still noble and morally just--were often somewhat patronizing. His heart was in the right place, but he was simply too young and too sheltered. He also fundamentally overestimated his own capability to help others, while underestimating the negative forces at play that would actively work against him. But 800 years later, Xie Lian has gone through hell and back. He knows better than anyone what it means to struggle, to suffer, to hope, to persevere. He still wants to help the common man, but now it comes from a place of understanding and humility. (The tragedy is, if he were allowed to grow up “normally,” he very much may have grown out of his naiveté and youthful arrogance anyway, after gaining more worldly experience. He was robbed of that chance.)

So Xie Lian chooses to be optimistic about life in general. He knows that he will get hurt by doing this. That people will take advantage of him. He knows, and yet, he continues to hold true to his principles. He neither asks nor expects people to thank him for it, or even understand him (as many people simply don’t). He does it because what other people think or even deserve is not his concern. It comes down to what he believes. That’s just the type of character he is--which is to say: fantastic.

TLDR; Xie Lian Best Boi!!!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 20

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: sorry for the delay on this one, hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

There are several times when you fall in love with someone, that is, you don’t fall at of the sudden, it’s gradually. Sebastian would argue with everyone else that he was attracted to the type of women that most men in his inner circle, he wanted to be just like his father and his father would have never fallen for the type of woman that Y/N was. However, Sebastian couldn’t help but want to make her smile whenever she apologised to inanimate objects just because she stepped on them, how she would stop mid street to look at the Christmas decorations and how she would put everyone else in front of her, even that rat Mr. Williams. Yet, there was no feature that made him want to shield her from the evil of the world more than when she smiled at him, free of judgements for his life style, for what people said and today she seemed to be showering him with that smile. 

Y/N hadn’t stop smiling for the whole entirety they had been outside, waving and talking to everyone like some version of a Disney Princess. Yet, as the night grew closer and closer, Sebastian decided it was safer for them to return to the penthouse. Once they returned, he was rather excited to strip off the winter clothes and be allowed to wear lighter clothes in his very warm and mostly desolate house safe for the bodyguards inside the lift at most times. Likewise, Y/N removed her winter coat and hat, rushing over to the kitchen to grab a cookie making Sebastian wonder if she ever got tired. 

      - I don’t know if it’s just because you really like Christmas or if it’s a sugar rush, but you’re rather energetic today angel. - he watched her break off a piece of her cookie, feeding it to herself. - You know you can bite on the cookie instead of breaking it, right?

     - No fun. - she handed him a cookie. - We’ve been doing what I do for Christmas all day. What do you do for Christmas?

     - I don’t. - he shrugged, leaning against one of the walls. - It’s alright, angel. This is for you, you get to chose. 

     - Well, I chose to do something you do or used to do for Christmas. C’mon, just because you’re the mob boss doesn’t mean you were born one. - she held his hand in hers, a soft smile on her lips. - There must be something.

    - I’m afraid the Stans don’t celebrate Christmas like the Forrests, angel. 

    - Mr. Stan, I am not taking no for an answer. There has to be something. 

    - You’re awfully pushy today. - he chuckled, hand coming to caress her cheek. - Well ... when I was younger me and my mum would cuddle on the couch and watch that weird Natalie Wood movie it hit midnight. We would then wish for something at 12:01 Christmas Eve. 

     - That is definitely something. - Y/N couldn’t help but melt a bit at the exposition. Sebastian certainly wasn’t one to show much emotion, that was asked of the job, but the fact that he had just told her a childhood memory which judging by the look of his eyes seemed rather special was something she would treasure. - I’m pretty sure we can rent Miracle on 34th Street somewhere.

    - You don’t have to do that, angel. We can do something you enjoy.

    - I happen to like Miracle on 34th Street very much. Wait here ... - she ran up the stairs and into her bedroom, opening the wide doors of her wardrobe where she had seen some staff store blankets and pillows. Carrying as many as her arms could, she went down the stairs, throwing all the bedding onto the couch much to Sebastian’s confusion. - You cannot watch a Christmas film without coziness. 

    - You really are something else, angel. Aren’t you?

    - I’ve been called odd several times, so I’d guess you’re right. - she spoke mindlessly, too busy arranging the blankets and pillows into something her heart considered perfect. Once she had obtained as much fluffiness as she could, she jumped onto the couch, patting the spot next to her. - Come on, let’s do your tradition.

    - It’s hardly a tradition, angel. - how could he deny sitting next to her. He just couldn’t. With slow yet certain movements, he sat next to her, the only thing separating them being his hand in the middle. - Haven’t done it in years. 

    - It’s always a good time to restart. 

She had managed to find the movie for rental on Youtube, however, unlike her, Sebastian was much more interested in watching her rather than the movie. The way the fake fireplace light her face with shades of warm orange and yellow, the soft sounds caused by her breathing and the way her eyes shined with the hope of someone who didn’t know how bad the world outside was. She just seemed like an actual angel in the middle of all of this, endearingly innocent and sweet to a point that made Sebastian wonder if it could be to her detriment. After all, her sweetness was what enabled Gwen to pull her around like a doll and while she was in her employment and her friend, she did things that he wouldn’t dream of doing ... maybe if it was for her, but never for Gwen.

Too lost in his own thoughts, he didn’t notice her fingers had laced with his and her head was now laying on the soft fabric of the jumper she had offered him. He only noticed this once her finger started to draw invisible circles on his hand. Some part of him wished he hadn’t noticed the closeness as once he did, suddenly he was aware of every single movement. What if he disturbed her? He didn’t want to disturb her, she looked so peaceful and she was so close. Was he sweating? He was definitely sweating. Maybe also shivering from the pure amount of nerves. Why was he nervous? He had killed people before, had been with other women before so why was he nervous at a very innocent touch.

   - I love a happy ending, don’t you? - she spoke up making him realise he had just spent the entire film staring at her. She probably thought he was crazy or maybe stalk-ish. - Seb?

   - Yeah? Yes, love happy endings. 

   - Look, it’s a minute past midnight. - she noticed the red light of the microwave’s hour display. - Make a wish.

   - I don’t need a wish, I have everything I could have right here.

   - Oh ... - she felt a heat creep up her skin up to her cheeks. Why was the room suddenly very hot. - Merry Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas Eve. Really Y/N? Couldn’t have come up with a better sentence? She knew that Gwen leaving the two of them alone was a mistake. If they couldn’t control themselves when she was in the same house how were they gonna control themselves when she is a good half hour away from them during a snow storm? 

   - What are you wishing for, angel? 

   - I wish for everyone to get what they wish for. 

   - Y/N, angel, you cannot share your wish with the world. - he chuckled. - If you could have anything in the whole wide world, what would you want?

   - I’m a handmaid, I don’t think about those things. - she sighed. - My life is pretty good. 

   - Even millionaires wish on a wishing star, angel. It doesn’t make you a bad person if you want something. 

   - I never stopped to think about that. People normally don’t ask me about what I want. - she shrugged.

    - Wait here. - he kissed the top of her head, leaving her momentaneously which gave her more time to panic about her situation. Gwen would certainly have her head on a platter for being that enamoured with her fiancée. Ever since they were kids what was Y/N’s belonged to the both of them but what was Gwen’s was Gwen’s only. Why was she so enamoured with him? Was it because he was handsome? She had certainly meet other handsome boys and men before she saw him. Was it because he was rich? She knew various rich people which flaunted it more than him. All she knew was that she liked him. Not just like. When she looked at him she could envision a future that just didn’t exist but god could she feel it as if it could. - I was gonna give you this for Christmas but I guess now it’s as good time as it could be. 

   - You didn’t need to get me something. - she said as he placed a red and white box on top of her lap. - I don’t have anything for you.

   - Nonsense, you gave me this jumper. - he pointed at the dark jumper. - I hope you like it, I wasn’t entirely sure which one you’d like. 

   - I’m sure it’s lovely either way. - she took the lid off the red and white box which led to a very familiar orange box. Hermes. She would know that box anywhere. Gwen always had a particular knack for buying their scarfs and handbags. However, it was probably just repacking. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened. As she opened the box however, she realised it was no repacking. She picked up the bag she had dreamed on having since she was a little kid looking at old Grace Kelly pictures. - It’s a Kelly bag. 

   - Isn’t that what you wanted? I can get you another one if you want so, maybe a different colour?

   - You can buy a small house with one of these. 

   - I can also get you a small house if that’s what you want.

   - How did you even get one? There’s a waitlist. - Y/N was dumbfounded, wondering if the cold had knocked her off and all of this was a fantasy. 

   - There is no waitlist for me, angel. - Sebastian smirked, proud of his statement but Y/N was much lost in her haze, looking at one of the most unobtainable bags in the world. Even celebrities had to wait for a Birkin or a Kelly and here she was, a mere nobody holding on. - Are you alright?

   - I can’t take it. - she put the bag back on the box. - You need to give this to Gwen. 

   - No, angel, that one is for you.

   - But this is an expensive bag. 

   - It’s hardly that expensive, angel. Besides, you gave me a Christmas present so I had to repay the favour. 

   - You could buy a whole truck full of jumpers with one of these bags. I ... I don’t know what to say. 

   - We can get something else if you don’t like it, angel. Anything you want. Jewellery, car, clothing ... just name it. However, I won’t return the bag just because you won’t accept it. It’s an order. 

   - Sebastian, it’s beautiful. Thank you. - she jumped forward, wrapping her arms around him before kissing his cheek. - Thank you.

   - Don’t mention it, angel. Anything for you. 

   - Seb ... - she couldn’t help but blurt out what came next. - I love you.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying @sarge-barnes-sir​​​ @stuffforreferences​ @thebadassbitchqueen

[snakeningel]

not to be starting homestuck race disk horse in 2019 but yknow what? I Will.

being an asian fan in the hs fandom is kinda, not great actually. in fact, it not only feels like we’re not here at all, that we’re erased, but its honestly? downright harmful. people treat the trivialization and fetishization of your culture to be,,, like a Big Joak. yall joke about weebs like these people havent been literally grooming and abusing asian girls, like we havent been made fun of enough for Their actions, like we aren't already viewed as the strange punchlines to jokes that still seem somehow acceptable. its somehow funny to joke about how you hate every sign of asian culture that shows up throughout the comics, like how dirk’s kotatsu was dumb and pretentious as if people in japan dont literally live with one and use it every single day!

even asian-coding in characters get swept away in favour of other headcanons. even the megidos, who are as close to canonically asian as they possibly can be in a medium like homestuck, are often drawn white or something completely different altogether. the stridlondes are also heavily asian-coded, and the fans who do pick up on that, who finally feel comforted by someone like them as protagonists? they often just.. give up on that, because they see so little representation in the fandom. (theres only like one popular artist i know of that draws the strilondes asian? but like, hats off to u pal, youre fighting the good fight). also, it seems strange, to be represented so little considering almost 3 billion people on earth is asian, which is, Quite A Lot to be not represented a lot. dont get me wrong, i adore the outpouring of more diverse art of the kids, but a hard truth to swallow is that pocs being weebs/fetishizing asian culture, is just as harmful as white people doing the same. there is a world of difference between japanese dirk, trying to interface with his lost culture by clinging to the most performative and popular parts of it, than another dirk, appropriating people’s cultures because he thinks its funny or interesting based off a show he watched once. i love how people are like "wow the striders like anime and care about traditions and use japanese words and overall just seem like diaspora kids" and the conclusion they draw from that is "clearly,, they cannot be asian" bc a non-asian person being interested in those things is better than an asian person whose interested in their own culture i guess??

in fact, a lot of these narratives are so much more interesting once theyre looked at through their coded lenses!

Dave’s struggle with coming to terms with his emotions strikes such an interesting chord when the striders’ concept of irony and never showing their emotions Correspond so well to the idea of honour/face, where youre not supposed to show that youre Ever Sad or anything that isnt a positive emotion because it shows that youre a Failure and You Failed and that makes you a Bad Person, which is exactly what dave struggles with because hes So Guilty about it, which ties to the guilt and shame a lot of asian people feel about not being able to live up to impossible standards set by their parents, which is another theme we see reflected in all four strilondes. 

rose’s strained relations with her mother are mirrored in so many of our second-generation lives and makes so much more cultural sense when looked at that way. the weird distance you hold from your parents, where you cant look each other in the eyes anymore, because every interaction feels more like a business transaction. you hand in your good grades and praise from teachers, talking about how mature you are, and they return with some present or gift that you don't really want. you dont know anything about them, and they dont know anything about you, Not the person you Actually Are, anyways. but there is a yearning, to be close, to know eachother, but you only feel it in return when its too late. as well as her Obsession to be mature, to be smart and adult-like because thats what shes praised for, because you Need to be academically the best always and that means reading dictionaries until the sun goes down, repeating each word until they are engraved into your mind. always finding competition, subtle or not, because if you are not the winner, what are you?  dirk’s wild performative love of japanese culture (which also, in turn, lead to non-asian fans literally trashing it like it was a funny joke to call someone’s culture lame and stupid) seems like ‘ironic’ weebism, but its also being Exactly the type of over-the-too performative reclaiming of our culture that so many asian diaspora kids do when they’re teens! they feel bad about pushing away their culture as youth, but they’re not quite mature enough to actually care about the rich history and ‘boring’ parts, so they cling to pop culture, to social media and something so much more easily consumable, like anime. which is not even to mention the idea of him trying desperately to connect to a culture that he has never grown up in, but still belonged to by consuming mass amounts of media, being Such an immigrant story. as well as his massive competitive streak and need to make other people as good as he is (but not better), is the type of internalized pressure that a lot of asian kids feel as well. 

and all the stridlondes have various anxieties about not performing well enough, of not living up to a standard that they have set for themselves, feeling like even a single step back or even one mistake is a catastrophic failure that’s branded to you for life. Which is just as much of a mental health thing as it is like,,, an asian thing

this is getting really long so im cutting myself off here but please if you want to hear more about my Thoughts and Hot Takes feel free to shoot me an ask. 

in conclusion: please treat asian people better hs fandom i literally beg you. like,, im Not tryna make waves but,, asian erasure in fandom is a huge issue and no one ever talks abt it!! dont trivialize, fetishize and erase cultures blease  big thanks to @ernikerr and @wyndryga for encouraging me to go Off and helping to write this.

anyone please feel free to rb but non-asian people please watch your mouth

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Jockey For Position

Now that we’re done with that long cameo, it’s time for our feature presentation for tonight, and it’s a doozy!:

We open with Pinky frantically running on a spinning globe while Brain stands above him on the…globe holder? I don’t know if that part has a name or not.

“[winded gasps] Can I stop now, Brain?”

“Not until I finish my demonstration.”

Brain, that’s just… Well I was about to say it was mean, but given that Pinky understands the details of his plans better when Brain demonstrates it or draws elaborate diagrams, maybe it’s for the best? I doubt Brain could make that large globe spin just by using his hands, and Pinky’s been seen a lot of times running on the mouse wheel in their cage so he’s gotta be pretty in shape. Still, it feels like Pinky’s been running for a lot longer than he needed to…

You know what? I change my mind. It is a bit mean, Brain.

“When I build my reverse geotropic arrestor, Pinky, and throw it from the North Pole like this…”

The word “geotropic” doesn’t quite sound right. I wonder…

…Okay, yeah, Brain’s getting worse at naming things.

“…In a matter of seconds the cable will become taut, gravity will cease, and everyone will fly off the face of the Earth!”

Oh my GOD, Brain. This has got to be the stupidest plan you have come up with yet! Nothing about this will work.

Well, there goes poor Pinky.

“Leaving us alone to assume control.”

It’s still “us”, huh? Noted.

Long Pinky.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! Haha hehe heh—!”

Pinky, sweetheart, I know praising Brain is kind of your thing but this is one time I’m going to have to call you out on your bias because this is super not brilliant and I’m actually a little worried for Brain’s mental state.

“—Oh wait, no, no. What’s going to keep us from flying off the Earth?”

That’s one flaw of many, Pinky, but I guess it’s as good a start as any.

“We will duct tape ourselves to a tree.”

Because the tree will totally stay in the ground when the Earth abruptly stops spinning. Not that it will stop spinning, because none of this makes any sense.

Brain, did this idea come from, like, a dream you had or something? Is that why the plan is working on dream logic?

I know this is a comedy cartoon and this is all a joke but sometimes Brain’s plans are so fucking out-there I just have to roast him for it.

“Unfortunately we still need to raise money to buy a one billion ton magnet. But I have a solution!”

Oh boy, can’t wait to hear the solution to this one. It’s gonna be stellar if the whole plan today is anything to go by.

Oh nice, Brain’s the one sewing for a change! Usually this is Pinky’s area of expertise, but it’s always nice to see that Brain can do some classically domestic things too.

“Tomorrow is the running of the Kentucky Derby. Do you know what that is?”

Most of my knowledge on it comes from “My Brother, My Brother, and Me” goofs, so my mind keeps autocorrecting it to “Kenfucky Derby”, but go on.

“Umm… Oh! A very large hat?”

“Promise me something, Pinky. Never breed.”

“I’ll try.”

Well, that’s going to come back to haunt them.

“The Kentucky Derby is the biggest horse race of the year. There’s a one million dollar purse going to the jockey riding the winning horse.”

“And I am going to win that purse!”

Okay, first off: Pinky, are you just going to stand there and stare at Brain as he gets changed? Like, I understand they’re naked normally and this is the exact opposite of stripping but umm…

Secondly: Brain, did you really have to get that up close to tell Pinky this? You two are making this too easy for me.

“Zort, Brain! A million dollar purse?!? Ooooh!~ You’re going to need matching pumps and earrings for that!”

Pinky’s got his priorities in order.

“Focus, Pinky, focus!”

“Now watch.”

And now Brain’s ordering Pinky to watch him dress and I just…I have no words. This is all so suspect. Why do you two even need a dressing screen if you’re usually naked anyway? And it shouldn’t matter if anyone sees you get dressed unless this is some weird reverse nudity taboo you two have developed and if that’s the case, why are you allowing Pinky to watch? And if it’s for a dramatic reveal WHY ARE YOU ORDERING HIM TO WATCH YOU CHANGE???

This episode is already so goddamn wild.

I am really not sure how I feel about that pan-up of Brain when he’s thrust his pelvis forward. At least the outfit is cute, though.

“Narf! Oh, Brain, I get it! You’re a beautiful lawn ornament!”

“Beautiful”, huh? Also noted.

“Look at me, narf, I’m a pink flamingo! Ahahaheh!”

Oh LORD, Pinky, how are you—?!?

“I’m a cement deer! Ah hah!”

PINKY, STOP, YOU’RE SCARING ME! D:

“Oh, I’m one of the seven dwarves, Brain!”

That’s more acceptable but Pinky, sweetie, warn me if you’re going to nightmarishly shapeshift again, okay?!

I guess we can add that to the list of random abilities Pinky has.

“Stop it, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you.”

You are much calmer about this than I would be if this happened in front of me, Brain.

“Oh. Right-o, Brain. Narf.”

“Now let us make haste, for we have much to do before the race begins.”

“Poit.”

So then we cut to Churchill Downs, and I can only assume another roadtrip adventure was had off-screen.

“First, Pinky, we must visit the stables.”

“Inside, we will find the winning horse.”

“Err… How are we gonna do that, Brain?”

“The racing form, Pinky.”

My bet’s on... [squints] hLUUNO the horse.

“By analysing the velocity-based pace line, mile turf win and bayer speed figures, we’ll find a grade one stakes claimer who’ll give us a key horse situation.”

“Key Horse Situation” would be a great band name. Also, whoops, little bit of an error on the name plaques, background artists.

What do your mouse eyes see, Pinky?

“Err, can’t we just ride the pretty one?”

SHE!

So here she is, one of the few characters debuting in the Animaniacs run that will matter to PatB lore going forward aside from our main duo.

A fun fact for you all: Phar Fignewton’s name is a triple reference joke. “Phar Lap” was a champion thoroughbred race horse in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Fig Newtons are small pastries filled with fig paste. Lastly, “Fahrvergnügen” was a slogan for Volkswagon starting in 1990. Translated, it means “driving enjoyment”.

Phar Fignewton makes a whinnying noise and ends it off with a goofy laugh.

Brain is not impressed.

“Heavens, they’re multiplying…”

Pinky is instantly smitten with her.

BONK!

“This is a business trip, Pinky!”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Brain.”

“Here is our horse.”

“’Daddy’s Little Angel’…”

I guess it’s an ironic nickname.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Whu… I think so, Brain, isn’t Regis Philbin already married?”

…

Now I’m wondering if Pinky is suggesting that one of them marry Regis or if he’s suggesting that Regis marries the horse. Either way, what the fuck?

Yeah, same.

“The race, Pinky. By combining the statistics and my low body weight, this horse cannot lose! The prize money will be ours!”

GAH! Brain, I’ve had enough minor heart attacks from this episode because of Pinky’s eldritch morphing ability, I don’t need another one of your bizarre close-ups to do the same!

“Now I must take the place of the real jockey.”

“Hello?”

“Is this the Jockey who’s going to ride ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Ed Mcmahon from Publisher’s Smearing House. You’ve just won ten million dollars.”

Pinky delightedly and silently listening in and chuckling in the back is precious.

And honestly, Brain, I don’t know why you’re crouching here, but it’s also cute.

“I won ten million dollars… I WON TEN MILLION DOLLARS! I am outta here! Later!”

The mice are lucky that he’s so excited about winning all that money that he forgets to do basic things like ask when and how he’ll get the money.

“Louie! Louie!”

“Later!”

“Who’s gonna ride my horse? I mean, Louie is the smallest, lightest jockey in the entire world!”

Did you know that there’s a weight requirement for jockeys, but no height requirement?

“Not anymore!”

“[GASP]”

Whoops, I just noticed another error, though it’s minor: Brain’s jockey outfit throughout this scene is light tan and purple instead of the pea green and purple that it’s supposed to be.

“You’re a jockey?!”

“Actually, I am a mouse in the early stages of an elaborate scheme to take over the world.”

The more this happens, the more I’m starting to think that Brain does this shtick on purpose to emotionally and mentally disarm people who would otherwise suspect that he’s not human. The fact that it works shows you just how idiotic the human beings of this world are.

“Well, fine, we all need a hobby but…will you ride my horse?”

Oh, sir, I think it’s much more than a hobby at this point. If only you knew…

“I shall ride! And win!”

His design is a little odd here, but it’s still a good pose.

So Brain next has to be weighed to make sure he meets the requirements.

“Saddle: Seven pounds. Saddle and rider: Seven pounds 3 ounces.”

So if you can recall from the previous rewatch post, a house mouse on average weighs 19g, and a common wood mouse weighs 23g (it can be up for debate which type of mouse Brain is).  Converting Brain’s 3 ounces of weight to grams would result in him weighing 85.0486g.

Brain does have a bit of a cute little potbelly thing going on, but he’s also consistently much smaller in height and width than the average adult mouse in the series. I think the incredible difference in weight is mostly coming from the heft of Brain’s, well, brain and skull…and the muscle mass packed into that tiny body to help keep him upright.

“A genetically perfect jockey! This is fantastic!”

Please don’t phrase it like that.

“…Let’s look into early retirement.”

That jockey on the left is going through some shit, man. He looks like how I feel after working an eight hour shift on the holidays.

And so we skip to the beginning of the race!

That poor, poor jockey…who changed colour schemes for some reason.

There’s Phar Fignewton with a jockey who honestly looks like he’s high.

And here’s our little mousey fella, who has somehow managed to make this aggressive horse obedient.

“Camptown race is five miles long, do-dah, do-dah.~”

He’s so happy he’s singing to himself! This is honestly so precious that I completely forgive him for not getting the lyrics correct.

Coincidentally, Daddy’s Little Angel is positioned next to Phar Fignewton.

“Ooh, isn’t this exciting, Brain?”

Uh oh.

“Pinky, what are you doing here? Your weight will disrupt my winning calculations!”

I don’t know if it’d be that off, Brain. The combined weight of two mice is still much less than that of a human jockey.

“But Brain, it’s too exciting! I—“

[TARGET LOCKED]

“Oooh! Heh. Hello.~”

I think I’m going to save my thoughts on this whole…thing until the end. Right now I will say, however, that I wasn’t quite expecting the tongue-hanging-out-of-gaping-mouth lovestruck/horny??? reaction.

“Pinky, the race is starting!”

Too late, Brain.

And we’re off!

Bye, Pinky.

“There’s baloney in our slacks…~”

Pfft.

So as the race goes on, we get to know a few more of the horses’ names: Isle of Yap (a nice callback to the first PatB short), Flamiel (which is apparently the WB writers’ favourite word?), and Leggo-my-Egoiste (a double reference to an old Eggo slogan and the name of a cologne).

The other jockeys are more than a little surprised by Brain and his steed taking the lead early in the race.

Phar Fignewton is trailing way behind.

Meanwhile, Pinky’s woken up from fainting, seeing the oncoming horses—

--and promptly freaks out and stumbles back down again.

“Victory, she waits for me! Oh, the do-dah-day!”

You really have to stop tempting fate like this, Brain.

Phar Fignewton’s very tired, but what’s this?

Is that…Pinky in harm’s way?

ThePowerOfLove.mp3

Determined and fueled by her inexplicable crush, Phar Fignewton starts gaining ground on the other horses.

Brain didn’t calculate for this!

…Oh! Hi, Warners! Looks like they’re cheering Phar on.

“Oh no! Yah! Yah! Yah!”

I didn’t think whips were allowed in races like the Kentucky Derby, but apparently they are. Their use was only restricted—not banned—in the summer of 2020, which is alarming to say the least.

On a different note, I know some of you folks are now jotting down the fact that Brain knows how to use a whip. I see you.

She makes the save!

And she also wins the race! Way to go, Phar Fignewton!

“In the words of the great Willie Shoemaker: ‘Nuts!’”

It was a good try, Brain, but honestly I’m glad you failed this time if only so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself with your actual world domination plan’s failure later. Maybe take a couple nights off to rest up a bit and formulate plans that aren’t totally bonkers, hmm?

I might as well go ahead and talk about this now. I…am conflicted on this whole Phar Fignewton thing. It makes for a very strange one-off joke about Pinky instantly falling in love with a distaff counterpart of his that’s a horse for whatever reason…but the fact that she’s not a one-off character is baffling in and of itself. Like I’ve said before, she’s mentioned a couple of times going forward as being Pinky’s girlfriend, or as a bizarre joke at Pinky’s expense about him being in/having been in a relationship with a horse. There’s even a small running gag about Pinky’s reaction to people’s disgust about it: “People can be so intolerant!”. I don’t know if the joke is supposed to be one about racial segregation or a wink and nod to queer folks in the only way that the writers could get away with in a cartoon at the time (in a “see, Pinky’s down for a relationship with anyone, even outside of his species!” type of way).

Phar Fignewton herself is a sweetie but besides that she has no personality to speak of and we’re just meant to assume based on physical appearance that she is equivalent to Pinky. And like, she hasn’t been uplifted to human levels of intelligence and sapience like Pinky has because of Acme Labs, but she seems to be naturally sapient for some unknown reason and just simply unable to speak English.

On top of all this, the relationship is very shallow and the only reason we’re given as to why Pinky likes her is because he finds her pretty. It’s perfectly in character for Pinky to easily fall in love, as he does so with other animals a couple more times in the spin-offs, but it just feels weird that this is the one that sticks around purely to become a running gag that gets mentions that are sometimes literal years apart from one another.

And listen, I know the writers most likely made this a thing just because they thought it was a funny joke and a few of them managed to remember about Phar and would use Pinky dating her as a gag. I know this. But it doesn’t make it any less confusing and weird. I remember the jokes about Pinky and horses from way back when I first watched Animaniacs and the PatB spin-off when I was a kid and I never had any context for it because I don’t think I ever saw this specific episode. Coming back as an adult and seeing all these episodes in order and watching this one in particular and finding out the context is “Pinky thinks a horse is pretty and the horse and him are in love and long-distance dating now” is both underwhelming and leaves me with more questions than answers.

…Also, if my earlier theories on why the writers made this joke are correct, does this mean Phar Fignewton is metatextually a beard for Pinky?

I just don’t know, folks. You’re welcome to leave your thoughts on this in comments.

Let’s wrap this up.

So as we can see, Brain is, as usual, back to work on another plan that involves—

—a goddamn cannon, holy shit! What is he using the glue for? That’s a little ominous, given what’s been involved in this episode.

There’s a hammering noise in the background and we see Pinky putting up a photo of Phar Fignewton.

“Pinky, will you please stop that? I’m trying to concentrate on tomorrow night!”

Wow, you’re more irritable than usual, Brain. I didn’t think some delicate hammering would annoy you that much.

“Mwah!~”

…Despite my ramblings earlier, that’s very cute of you, Pinky. I’m sure you could’ve gotten a better photo, though.

“Why, Brain, what’re we gonna do tomorrow night?”

Try to take over the world, of course! Right, Brain?

“Guess.”

…

Umm, wow. That’s a first. You look like you’re absolutely enraged, Brain. All this over some hammering sounds?

This had me taken aback a bit when I watched it the first time, not gonna lie. We’ve seen Brain after a plan’s failure plenty of times before. He’s been frustrated, sure. Humiliated at times, or maybe he just sighs in resignation and walks off into the sunset. It always ends with him simply using these feelings to fuel the fire in him to do better tomorrow night.

This is the very first time we’ve seen him jumpy and irritated at the most minor of things and so angry that he literally refuses to participate normally in his and Pinky’s shared catchphrase. And this was for a plan that was just to fund the real plan! So why is this time any different?

Oh.

OH.

Okay, that’s… That makes a lot of sense, actually. Damn.

Hey, fanfic writers? Ya’ll ever use this as the very first time Brain experiences romantic jealousy? Let me know.

“Oh yeah, try to take over the world. Right.”

I think even Pinky’s put off by this development, if his hesitant and quiet finishing of the saying is anything to go by.

And that’s what we end off with.

All in all, this episode is a wild ride of strangeness in small moments and bizarre additions to lore and ends on the first subversion of the long-running closing gag of the series. It’s not exactly a great episode, but that ending is intriguing enough for one of the main purposes of this rewatch. In short, I’m just baffled.

Luckily the next episode is much better. Next time, the mice head on down to Tennessee to seek world domination via country music.

See you then!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"Ah, Mademoiselle Raven, we meet again! It has been far too long, and I have missed your presence! Have you given any thought to reconsider my offer at the alter from our Ghost Marriage rendezvous? I am just a *quiver* at the prospect of your magnifique hand in marriage! Non, but I get ahead of myself. I have forgotten, Monsieur Mastermind has already claimed you as theirs, has he not? Ah, but I do relish a challenge! Oui!" - Yours, Rook Hunt

This ask was in my inbox prior to the release of part 5 of the cursed raven’s tale. Since the Jade Simping Saga is inherently tied to the story of the cursed raven, this message was what prompted the addition of Rook as a main character. (...Given the recent context of Raven’s backstory, this series does not seem nearly as light-hearted as it once was.)

With a name and face to now put to Miss Raven, I shall be changing minor things (such a pronouns and capitalization of raven) to reflect her character.

I would recommend reading this installment and this installment prior to this post.

Let the hunt begin.

The Writing Raven dies a little on the inside.

“...Oh. You mean the ring.” 

“Oui.”

“I took that off and shoved it into a drawer a while ago.” Raven holds up her right hand--and it is without adornment. “Even if it was a gift, wearing it for any longer would make my stomach churn. Looking at that thing brings back...unpleasant memories.”

His verdant eyes crease with delight. “Hohoh. So I see!”

She regards him with a long, hard stare--then folds her arms. “...I don’t know what the gossips of Pomefiore have been whispering in your ears, but I can assure you that no one but that slimy eel acknowledges the meaning behind the ring.”

“Is that so? Then perhaps there was no need for me to be quite so concerned,” Rook says with an airy laugh. “Do forgive me for the intrusive comments, mon petit oiseau. This hunter cannot help but be a bit nosy when his aimée is in danger of being snatched up in the clutches of a heinous fiend--”

“Now hold on,” Raven interrupts, “I never said anything about accepting your offer, either.”

“Ah, ma cherie, there is no need to be coy!” Rook declares with a wink and it’s a damn cute one. He pantomimes the motion of nocking an arrow and letting it fly--right into Raven’s chest. “The fact that you have chosen to cast aside Monsieur Mastermind’s affections...it means that you are fair prey~”

“Please do not shoot me down.”

“But of course.” Rook’s smile is as brilliant as the rising sun. “However--know that if you should ever fall, I will always be there to catch you safely in my arms! That is my promise to you, Mademoiselle Raven.”

“Promise...” Raven instinctively glances away--and she finds herself lingering on her right hand, where the ring once laid. The hunter follows her gaze.

“An observation--if you will allow, mon petit oiseau.” Rook leans down, peering into Raven’s wide, amber eyes. Golden locks tumble over his face, and his lips unfurl into a toothy grin.

“...What is it?”

“Your words and your actions betray each other. A beautiful contradiction, but a contradiction nonetheless,” Rook notes. “Perhaps there are words still left unspoken, buried in the recesses of your heart--words which you struggle to set free into the sky.”

“He has hurt you dearly--I can understand why you would be cautious to spread your wings and fly again into a storm that has struck you down once before. But I am not Monsieur Mastermind.”

“I would never dare dream of harming such a  magnifique creature such as yourself. I will protect you. I will tell you only the truth. I will heal the scars that he has left upon your fragile little heart.”

He gingerly takes Raven’s hands in his and squeezes. His eyes are half-lidded, but not once has his gaze strayed.

“Throw caution to the wind, ma cherie. Be honest with yourself. Forget him, and accept me.”

“I...”

“Three words, eight letters. Say it, and I am yours.”

Rook has never looked so fierce, so determined.

As handsome and pure as a prince from a fairy tale.

And yet, and yet...! Those same three words that would set his heart aflutter are the same three words that will kill her.

She hesitates.

Quivers.

Fear coating her tongue.

“I...I can’t.”

Raven pries her hands back and gently pushes him away--and he lets her go. Easily--yet Rook continues to watch her, his lips curved into a small smile. Gently coaxing her.

“It’s not you, or Jade,” Raven mumbles, wringing her hands together. She takes a deep breath and forces her racing heart down. “It’s...it’s me. I do not think I am...ready. I have scarcely experienced school life to begin with--and when it comes to matters of romance, I am nothing more than a newly hatched chick.”

“I see.” Rook nods, satisfied with the answer.

He has a talent for that, Raven realizes. Jade takes her words--and her breath--away, but Rook has a talent for drawing out what she tries to keep buried.

“If that is the case, then I will drop the issue for today~” he chirps, tipping his hat. His expression suddenly becomes serious again. “Mon petit oiseau.”

“...Yes?”

“Do not think this means I will relent. What sort of hunter would I be if I were to give up the chase so easily?”

“Right. Of course. I expected nothing less from you.”

“Hohoh. One day, you will be comfortable and worldly enough to leave your cage and brave the storm once more--and when you do, I will welcome you with open arms.” Rook waves his arm in a wide arc and cheekily adds, “We shall feast upon the flesh of eel upon a bed of rice to celebrate our union!”

Raven offers him a wary smile. “Er...sure.”

"Ah-CHOO!”

“Ne, ne, Jaaade, do you have a cold or somethin’?”

“...No, not at all. I just felt something rather unpleasant just now--like something akin to a pest crawling on my skin.”

“Ehhhh? Where’s that pest, huh? Do you want me to beat it bloody for ya?”

“It is simply a feeling--a metaphor, Floyd. I am certain it is nothing, fufu.”

“Awww, I wanted to punch something.”

“Focus on serving fruit punch, if you must fixate on any kind of punch at all.”

“Boooo~ Fruit punch is lame!”

“You two, less chatting and more working!”

“As you wish.”

“Fiiine.”

[merelliahallewell]

An Order of Embers Roleplay Primer

Hello, friends. A while back I wrote a not-so-brief guide to Order of Embers roleplay that seemed to help a few people. MG’s Kul Tiras community has been growing lately and I’ve also founded a new guild and RP project set in Drustvar, and so I figured I would update this for clarity and ease of reading. In other words? I... am back on my bullshit.

This primer will be headcanon/fanon free, and only reference quest text or other information that can be found in-game in Drustvar. If headcanons are your thing, I’ll be releasing an in-character guide to Kul Tiras’s monsters and dark magic soon. I hope. It is the endless writing project. 

Drustvar’s Woes

On Kul Tiras’ western side lies the mountainous region of Drustvar. It provides most of the island kingdom’s ore, some food, and some of their strongest warriors.

In recent times, a civil war raged across Kul Tiras. A secessionist, N’zoth-aligned faction run by Lord Stormsong in the north and an attempted coup led by Lady Ashvane in Boralus itself nearly toppled the Proudmoore Admiralty, but were stopped by brave souls. Drustvar was strangely absent from these conflicts, and many refugees spilled out into the rest of Kul Tiras telling frightening tales of “wooden demons” who had driven them from their homes.

Most of the land west of the mountains had fallen to a group of terrifying magic-users who enslaved the minds of all they came into contact with... if they didn’t kill them for sport or use them as reagent for foul and perverse rituals. The land east of the mountains was on the brink, as well. Corrupted wildlife roamed the woods freely and witches practiced their dark spellcraft freely, driving the remaining desperate souls into worship of the wickermen or into frenzied attempts to prosecute innocents for the crimes of the terrifying Heartsbane Coven. All of this happens before the player even arrives in Drustvar.

The Order of Embers

During the zone’s storyline, the player and Lucille Waycrest discover that the magic being used against the people of Drustvar is that of the ancient Drust, who were defeated thousands of years earlier by a group known as the Order of Embers. The Drust were a seafaring clan of Vrykul that eventually settled on Kul Tiras sometime after the Sundering. They developed druidic ways that brought them in tune with the land and even earned them the blessing of nature spirits, but those ways were perverted by a sorcerer-king who set the Drust upon the path of death and domination.

The old Order were comprised of those who took up arms against their far more powerful foes, exploiting weaknesses in Drust magic uncovered by scholars. The Waycrests were members of the ancient order, and it was Arom Waycrest himself who led the charge to defeat the Drust king Gorak Tul. In the cavern Gol Var, once a Drust stronghold, they recover an ancient tome known as the Tome of Silver and Ash, a treatise which contained all the old Order’s knowledge on combatting their magic.

In the town of Arom’s Stand, some of the Waycrest Guard’s finest remaining soldiers were recruited to become the reborn Order’s first Inquisitors. The newly-anointed inquisitors brought the fight to the Heartsbane from there.

The Order’s battles with the Heartsbane Coven play out over the latter half of the Drustvar questing experience and also the zone’s world quests. They add new members to their ranks, create new weapons for use against the Coven, and push back against them on all sides. Eventually, they storm Waycrest Manor, cutting off the head of the snake and defeating the Coven’s leadership. Gorak Tul was forced back into the death-realm of Thros, prevented from returning for the time being. (Tul was later killed in Thros during the Pride of Kul Tiras questline.)

It’s unclear how long it took to purge the Heartsbane from Drustvar- if the task was truly completed at all. Blizzard rarely addresses zone stories after the fact, which means the plot thread has been left hanging and was not addressed in any subsequent patches in BfA. The Order of Embers also assisted with the fight against the Horde during the Drustvar invasion.

It may be a reasonable inference that Drustvar is being repaired and de-cursed in the aftermath of the war, but that is not an easy task.

Who leads the Order of Embers? Does it have a hierarchy?

Lucille Waycrest- now the ruling Lady of Drustvar, and the last of her house, is in charge of the Order. All inquisitors are raised to their stations by the authority of House Waycrest. Other important figures are the remaining original inquisitors (Sterntide, Mace, Notley, and Yorrick), the quartermaster Alcorn, and Marshal Joan Cleardawn, a former inquisitor that was given new leadership over the Waycrest Guard.

The Order seems to lack much of a formal hierarchy- most of the named NPCs are simply titled with inquisitor, working together as a team rather than issuing commands to one another. They also seem to be adept at handling missions alone and on their own or with the aid of local allies. 

Can I roleplay an inquisitor or other member of the Order of Embers? Is it lore-abiding to do so?

Sure! The Order didn’t stop at five inquisitors- a world quest boss for the Horde during the invasions has them facing off against a new Inquisitor named Erik. They also have a quartermaster and a cleric, which means there may be support staff involved that do not bear the big title but are still part of the group. The Order is probably not handing out inquisitor garb like candy, but there’s no reason to assume that a worthy and trusted individual wouldn’t be made an inquisitor.

However, it is worth mentioning that the Order of Embers might not be too trusting of those wielding or even infused with darker powers, given the devastation of their homeland by spellcasters wielding terrifying magic. That is just a guess on my part, but an educated one. Drustvar as a whole has a very low-magic culture.

Could a non-human join the order?

I don’t see why not, but there are no non-human methods ingame. I would never say that it is lore-breaking to roleplay a nonhuman as an Inquisitor, just that there’s no real in-game basis to make this judgement on either way. If you want to roleplay an inquisitor that’s not human and you think you have solid IC reasoning: go for it!

Obviously, the Order of Embers may be more hesitant to accept, say, a void-infused elf with tentacle hair or a worgen warlock as an inquisitor than a race they’re more familiar with such as a sturdy dwarf or genius gnome. Ability to serve House Waycrest and being of aid against the Heartsbane are likely strong factors in joining up- they may not make a person an inquisitor if they’re a night elf sorcerer that’s been in Kul Tiras for two weeks and hasn’t ever seen a witch in his life.

Initiation Ceremony

To become a member of the Order of Embers, the initiate undergoes a short ritual where they are presented with their garb.

Brothers and Sisters, today you become the searing fire that burns away the darkness.

Today you become the shining blade that cuts through the wicked.

Today you become the beacon of hope against the endless foe.

By the authority of House Waycrest, I name you inquisitors of the Order of Embers!

Clothing and Armor

Upon being appointed to their new stations, inquisitors are offered a set of garb inspired by drawings in the Tome of Silver and Ash of what the ancient inquisitors wore. This armor seems to be dark brown leather gear and also has a feathered cap involved- though only one of the inquisitors seems to have chosen to wear that accessory. The specific in-game set is the “Armor of the Dashing Scoundrel,” which comes from Antorus. It drops from the heroic difficulty of the raid. It should be noted you don’t need the whole set- each inquisitor wears different pieces of it and matches them with other clothing or armor pieces. The hat also has a chance to drop from the Commodore Calhoun rare in Vol’dun. Not sure if it would drop for non leather users, so be careful.

Don’t feel like you have to be a rogue to play an Inquisitor- going for tones of brown with some silver or grey mixed in will likely net you a pretty good-looking set. There are Kul Tiran questing and dungeon plate sets that look fantastic and are worn by Waycrest Guard/Marshal NPCs that would work great as an inquisitor’s battle armor.

The Order also has a tabard, which is worn by the quartermaster who sells it. While no inquisitors actually seem to wear it, it’s one of the better-looking tabards added that expansion and has a distinctive look. It matches well with just about any gear that has brown or tones of silver/grey.

If you’re looking for some transmog ideas, this is a link to the Order of Embers mogs on /r/transmogrification. There is a super sweet plate set OoE set on there that actually won Best Dressed of 2018 for that armor class.

If you’re looking for a great Order of Embers-type transmog, the Leather PvP set from Shadowlands’ first season really hits those vibes. It has a very witch hunter theme to it, is colored largely brown, and the belt has fucking potions and silver spikes on it for use on... enemies. I cannot understate how badass this set is. The best part? It is not class locked, meaning that this armor is available to anybody that can wear leather gear, if you toggle the vendor pane to show “all classes.” However, it does cost Conquest points (and a lot of them), so you may want to be picky with what you grab unless you don’t intend to gear through PVP this season. We don’t know if it will be available after the season ends, so you may want to pick that up soon if it’s your thing. Also, it’s just a nice-looking coat and we don’t have a lot of those in-game. 

Weaponry

The inquisitors of the Order of Embers wield a number of different weapons, taken from their prior occupation as members of the Waycrest Guard. Everything from two-handed swords to crossbows are used by them- and that’s just primary weapons. Their armor features throwing knives as well. Inquisitor Mace even carries a trio of daggers sheathed at her belt- it seems they have no shortage of tools for dispatching foes with.

Players who have completed the zone’s Bleak Hills Mine quests also have a buff called Silvered Weapons. Silver can disrupt the magics of the Drust, and stun abberations, elementals, and undead in the zone. This is an inference, but it may be because all of those monster types in Drustvar are powered by this magic. The silver recovered from one of the region’s mines was used to begin producing weapons for the Order such as the silver-plated hand cannon Witchrend, which seems to shoot silver shrapnel to great effect against the Heartsbane.

It should be pointed out that silver is a shitty metal to make a weapon out of. It is not half as strong as steel or whatever else they make weapons out of in Azeroth. The original Order of Embers got around this fact by making weapons with a steel core and covering them with a layer of pure silver- you find one of their long-abandoned knives out in the world.

Other universes have done similar things with silver weapons- D&D has a ruling about silvered weapons, and The Witcher series has a whole class of silver swords created with special forging techniques. It may be wise to take a page from the latter universe, as Witchers face the same issue regarding silver’s weakness as a weapon. They get around that by carrying two swords- one for men, the other for monsters. I’m not telling you that you should roleplay a Witcher but I am saying that’s kind of half the reason we’re here, so it might be okay to borrow that idea since they face that very legitimate problem with a smart solution.

Storm Silver is a metal found abundantly in Kul Tiras, and is used for building ships, making armor light enough to swim in, and consecrating for various uses by Tidesages. It is likely not the same as pure silver, but we don’t have explicit confirmation either way.

Alchemical fire is also a potent weapon against witches and Drust alike, crafted by Master Ashton. The original text specifically says it was used to “burn away the Drust.” This concoction is tricky to make, requiring the reagents Heartbloom, Saltpeter, volatile sap, and Sulfur. The fire is carried in a reinforced flask that is made to withstand the test of time, able to hold the volatile components without igniting. Inquisitors use alchemical fire to pour over dangerous objects or to shift into more breakable containers for throwing. This is seen in the Gorak Tul fight, when alchemical fire is put into flasks which are shattered over the corpses of his minions to prevent them from rising again. 

It isn’t addressed whether magical fire has the same effect as this alchemical concoction. A fire mage, destruction warlock, or priest wielding holy fire might be a neat character concept to bring to the table for an order that doesn’t have a lot of magic.

Rowan wood is also useful against Drust magic. However, it is not specified how exactly it is helpful. Rowan trees don’t grow in Kul Tiras, so an inquisitor seeking that wood would need to travel overseas for such a reagent. It could, however, be extremely helpful and far cheaper than making a silver weapon. 

Non-inquisitor Roles

If you find the Order of Embers cool, but don’t think you like the idea of hunting witches all day, they have more than just inquisitors. The witch hunters rely on specialists to help them get the tools they need to beat back the Heartsbane, and even simply through the questing experience they gather new allies. The blacksmith Angus Ballaster and the alchemist Master Ashton both are essentials. As mentioned before, they are also joined by a cleric, Loriette. A skilled smith or alchemist could find work alongside the Order of Embers, perhaps helping to craft more weapons for them or concocting potions for use in the field.

Allies

The witch hunters are not the only ones out to defend their homes- they are joined by a plethora of others trying to protect the region. Whether you believe the Coven is still an active threat or not, these are still the most common friends an Inquisitor may find in the field.

Waycrest Guard - The Waycrest Guard are Drustvar’s chief protectors, but lost many of their members to the mind-enslaving curse of the Heartsbane. They work alongside the Order of Embers in the Drustvar quests. The original inquisitors are all drawn from the Waycrest Guard, so the Order has deep ties with them. It appears largely as if the Guard protect the settlements, and the inquisitors are the ones striking deep into enemy territory. They could be called to do heavier lifting when the Order alone cannot do the job.

Town Militia - With much of the Waycrest Guard falling under the control of the Coven, the towns of Drustvar were forced to look to their own defenses, such as in Falconhurst and Fletcher’s Hollow. Ordinary citizens have bravely taken up arms in defense of their homes, and the aid of a skilled inquisitor would likely be welcomed. Even with the witches defeated, it’s likely some militia still protect their towns.

Thornspeakers - The Thornspeakers are a faction of Drust and human druids that live out in Drustvar’s woods and mountains. They are led by Ulfar, the last living Drust and the leader of the faction that sided with the humans against their own kind. The Thornspeakers seem to congregate at Ulfar’s Den along the eastern side of the mountains, but watch over all of Drustvar and Tiragarde. They work hard to maintain the balance in nature, and have allies in the mysterious pair of stags that roam the forests...

Drustvar Rangers - Though they only appeared in a few brief quests supporting the Thornspeakers, Drustvar seems to have a number of woodsmen trying to do their part to protect their home. They do not seem to be magical or anything, just some normal folks 

Notes, RP hooks, Excess Lore, etc

The Order of Embers is based out of Arom’s Stand in central Drustvar. The building Lucille occupies is possibly their headquarters. They also may use Gol Koval as a base of operations. 

Onions seem to be anathema to the witches and their servants. 

Witches have been observed to call upon Drust magic without the Coven’s assent- once by a rejected witch in Drustvar, and again in Tiragarde at the Algerson Yard. This could open up the possibility of inquisitors venturing outside Drustvar to battle new threats. Additionally, it seems as if there may be some witches left as of the Shadowlands quests that take you back to Drustvar, so the hunt may not be over.

The Drust themselves have invaded Ardenweald from Thros. Whether it’s Drust artifacts/contraband making their way into Azeroth of the Drust themselves trying a full-on invasion through the yawning portal into Thros that was left unresolved in BfA, there’s a ton of possible plot threads that can be picked up related to them. A journey into the afterlife wouldn’t even be out of the question, since common citizens make it to Oribos and there is talk of mortals being able to join covenants. The Night Fae would be in dire need of a bold soul bearing flame and silver to drive back their foes and protect the cycle of life and death.

The Holy Light may be used by some members of the Order of Embers. Inquisitor Erik uses holy spells for his attacks when engaged by Horde players, and Cleric Loriette casts a fiery blessing on players who have unlocked her, a spell type usually reserved for priests. She’s also a cleric which usually implies the Light in this universe. A Light-wielding inquisitor is not out of the question, it seems, especially since Drustvar seems to have some ties to the Light if you look into it. 

Despite the possibility of Drustvari Light-wielding inquisitors, this is not the same situation as the Scarlet Crusade. The Order of Embers is not a holy or religious order. It owes allegiance to House Waycrest. Religious zealotry is not on their menu. Per the faction description, the Order of Embers fights with knowledge guiding their blades. 

It’s unlikely the Order would be suspicious of magic-users such as druids or shamans, given that they share a continent with Thornspeakers, Tidesages, and even mages (even if those are offscreen). They would have to be a pretty poor inquisitor to confuse the magics of their allies with that of Drust magic, so don’t go inquisitioning random magic users. 

This isn’t really anything to do with canon, but please don’t use the Order of Embers to live out really fringe stuff with purging ‘heretics’ or being racist at elves or what have you. The community has a history with seeing that sort of stuff in inquisitor characters and it is unlikely to earn you a super great reception if you choose to roleplay that. 

Further Reading (Fanon and out-of-WoW information)

This blog post goes over some potential processes for silvering and what happens when these weapons are used on creatures averse to silver.

Matt Mercer has created an interesting Dungeons & Dragons class called the Blood Hunter (which used to be called Witch Hunter.) It provides some interesting ideas that could be brought into an inquisitor character, especially one that might be interested in wielding darker magics to counter evil powers. You can view the class on D&D Beyond, or read the old Witch Hunter PDF which is a prior draft.

I recently did a huge series of writeups on the Drust, the Order of Embers’ perennial foe. If you’re wanting something to face off against or just want to know your lore, you can give these a read!

The Drust Background  - -  The Drust in BfA  - -  The Drust in Ardenweald

Night Fae Campaign (1)  - - Night Fae Campaign (2)

- - - - - -

I hope this post was helpful to anybody who’s feeling like trying out this sort of roleplay! It’s terribly long-winded but I wanted to do my best to cover all of the information out there. If you’d like to reach out to me about this topic or roleplay with an inquisitor, I play the character “Inquisitrix” mainly on both Moon Guard and sometimes “Merciella” on Wyrmrest Accord. 

If you’re looking for Order of Embers-themed roleplay and you play on Moon Guard, the guild <Silver and Ash> might be what you’re looking for, as they roleplay a group of inquisitors! On Wyrmrest Accord, there is a small interguild community called the Hex Hunter’s Society that I believe may be active still. If you’re looking for other Kul Tiran-type roleplay or want to put an inquisitor in a different environment, there are a few other guilds out there that utilize Kul Tiras on both Wyrmrest and Moon Guard. Happy hunting!

[jidai]

jidai’s budget mutuals/friends appreciation

Hi, all! I’m quite late with this but I decided to put a small friends and mutual appreciations post in hopes of brightening up the end of this year a little bit. ❤️ If you were tagged, please make sure to check below for a small little message from me. However, I want to make it very clear that I truly appreciate all of my mutuals. You guys brighten up my dash and always reblog or create so many funny and creative posts. I just wanted to give a few special shout outs to those that have taken out the time to reach out and interacted with me past my ask box or we just see each other often.

The messages are ordered by your URL, so you might have to scroll for awhile before you see your messages. I’m so sorry lmao. 

Happy New Years, everyone!

@25th​​, Nonnie, the Young Genius. bro, remind me how old you are 🧍‍♀️ Like my brain CANNOT fathom the thought that you’re so skilled at SO many things and you’re not even in your twenties??? PLEASE SPARE THE TALENT. i will even accept crumbs. But I’m writing to tell you that you are such a wonderful presence on my dash. I always look forward to your gfx. They’re so SO good and you’re improving from one post to another. Like WOW. Now, you’re even starting an art blog, too? You’re so dedicated to the arts. I respect that a lot. Your hard work and commitment will bring you very far in life, whatever you decide to do. 

I love interacting with you. You’re such a big sweetheart and full of positivity and energy. I look forward to seeing more of your art and gfx ❤️

@biscuitwalk​, Dann, the AK Wiz. Dann, I know you’re not as active on here so idk when or if you will ever read this but I want to say that I miss you and your creations so, so much. I will say it a hundred times over and OVER but you inspire me so goddamn much. You have no fucking idea. Your works are absolutely gorgeous and unique. I can look at it once and I can instantly recognize your style (and your cute lil’ pufferfish <3). The way you utilize colors and implement various techniques, shapes, textures into your work. Goddamn, you’re so good. I always look to your work if I ever need inspiration and they help me brainstorm. God, I wish I could put it into words how much I adore your works.

We didn’t really talk for long but you seemed like such a kind and fun person to be around. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, wherever you are. Stay safe <3

@elriccs, Mirai, the Short King. 🧍‍♀️ ok look I know, I know I’m TERRIBLE at replying to you and I’m so fucking sorry. I absolutely love to talk to you but my dumbass cannot seem to reply in a timely manner LASELKSAL. That’s on me and I gotta do better. Anyways!!! Thank you SO fucking much for always leaving such kind messages on my work. I swear to god you’re one of my biggest hype man and I ALWAYS look forward to reading your tags. They’re so funny and it makes me all tingly and happy inside. Bro, like, you just radiate big fun vibes, bro. I really hope that I can get to know you better so I can just insult you until it’s too late to walk away </3

And of course, let me also remind you that I love your works so much. They way that you utilize your textures and those muted colors... OOMPH *chefs kiss* I will always love--

@lockhvrts​​, Em the Soulsborne GOD. hi em 🥺 it’s been awhile since I’ve had a proper conversation with you and I hope you’re doing okay! I miss you and our conversations where we do nothing but geek out and complain about the game industry lmao. if you manage to read this, I just wanted to let you know I miss your presence here. It’s been kinda dull not seeing your beautiful soulsborne gifs and your game rants. Let’s catch up soon. <3 stay safe and well!

@nathanprescutt, Benn, the Man. BENNNNNNNN.  I love you a lot bro. I know we haven’t had long conversations for some time and I hope I can change that! You were my first friend on this blog and I will always appreciate it. I remember us just geeking out over your works and how I would always send you a gfx request like once a week LMAO. The one thing that I have always appreciated about you was the fact that you’re very opinionated (if not, very vocal on your stance on things) and you hold your ground. There were a few time where you encouraged me to speak on topics that I think I shouldn’t and that stuck with me for quite awhile. I’m still a nervous rambling mess when it comes to debates but just know that the one time you supported me to voice my opinion--I hold it very dear to my heart. 

While I don’t spend much time together, I will always remember our animal crossing session. It was  so much fun just trashing and chilling on your island. Especially the bar :( that bar was fucking AMAZING. Maybe once FFXVI comes out, we can geek out hehe

Also, thank you so much for sending in photos of all your doggos, omg. I miss seeing them so much I hope they’re doing well. Stay hot, my German bro lol. Ich bin sehr dankbar, so eine tolle Freundin zu haben. ❤️❤️❤️

@noxdivina​, Lin the Big Dick Daddy Kind. The church is open for business bitch and I’m here to preach the GOSPEL.

Okay, jokes aside, I’m really happy that we became mutuals. You’ve always give off this like, mysterious cosmic vibe (????? huh). And your selfies just further proves that you are wtf. But you’re always so kind to those that you interact with. You’re an absolutely sweetheart and like I just want to give you a giant hug every time we interact. You’re such a soft human being. It’s so nice being around you. It’s like being tossed in the oven and baked at 250 degrees F for 25 minutes. And to boot you’re really talented, hello? God really said let there be a perfect human being and yeeted you into the universe. Thank you for always leaving such kind messages and words in my DM/askbox/works. I cherish them so much. I hope I can get to know you better in the future bc you’re rad, bro <3

anyways, updated drawing of u and maya:

i always assume you’re in a black fur parka 24/7 and maya is coatless neck down. also deck me with those jacked arms of yours thanks  🧍‍♀️

(edit: fuck i forgot to draw a PARTY HAT ON MAYA IM SORRY)

@rokuseis​, Sei, the Dumber.

i have nothing to say to you go away you banana hater ASELKSAEKL

BITCH, you doo bee getting on my nerve 24/7/365 🧍‍♀️ you were an unexpected but a very welcomed addition to my life. I can’t believe we really went 1 fuckin’ year without speaking to each other and then suddenly our friendship blew up because over a stupid BANANA. Now you gotta deal with me and my stupid, random, crude ass messages daily. I cannot. Clown to clown communication. But thank you so much bitch for being there for me and telling all of these funny ass stories and life experiences.

I know I don’t say it a lot because when we talk it’s literally just dogs barking at each other but I want to make it clear now: I love your humor and vibe so much. You never fail to make me laugh anytime I talk to you and I appreciate it so much. I can’t tell you how many times I felt better after talking to you. Even though sometimes your fucking jab hits hard and I end up actually inSULTED BY IT. But thank you for becoming my friend and I look forward to all of our stupid moments together. Looking forward to shitting in your sink when I finally fly to your home <3

@wolfamongthem, Anna, the Grinch. Please don’t hurt me for that title. I'm just saying if someone needs a live casting, it’ll be u. Anyways, did you know that I was so fucking intimidated by you for a long ass time, even before we became mutuals aseljas LMAO. I always see your gifs around on explore and they’re so gorgeous and then I look at your text posts and it’s u roasting people like there’s no tomorrow- 🧍‍♀️ bitch I was SCARED OF U KSKS. Now that I’ve talked to you a few times, you’re really funny like where do you find those reaction memes????? Like bro you and your shitposts is my morning cup of coffee. 

Anyways, in 2021 I expect a full-fledge review of all AAA games from you-- no more shit talking in the tags let it all out BITCH. Thank you for being such a great mutual! I look forward to see what weird shit you will send me the next time we talk lmao

@zenien​​, Selm, the I’m-gay-for-Lady-Maria-or-anything-that-moves-in-BB-Bitch™. ok bitch if I’m being honest I wrote yours last so my brain is FRIED. so everything i say from here is raw from the HEARt cause that’s all I got left. But anyhow, we savin’ the best for last! honestly, i didn’t expect you to barge into my life like that. i really didn’t. i was just gonna keep admiring with my 7 feet (2.1336 meters) pole. I’m glad you made the first move because look where we are wtf 🧍‍♀️ friends??? I wouldn’t believe you if you told me that in 2014 when I first followed you lmao. 

You’re such a kind soul. I know you may disagree but I’m determined to convince you. I can’t tell you how much I want to thank you for taking the time to talk to me during my rough bits. It’s like sitting on a wooden bench in a park during sunset and you sit next to me, just enjoying the vast sky. You radiate such peaceful energy. It’s very calming. Or you know, 2 seconds later i’m suddenly suplexed by your 40 tons of insults like what-- 

Thank you for everything, so far. Truly. It’s been so fun listening to you talk about your Bloodborne journey and see your reactions live. It’s been so fun to see you post your graphics and it continues to blow me away. It’s been so fun hearing about your life and the stories of your adulthood. Every words that we have exchanged, I hold dearly to my heart--more than you ever know. Love u bitch.

[recurring-polynya]

Apparently, if you send someone an ask, but then deactivate your Tumblr, the ask gets deleted. I got this from our old friend k-rukias, and fortunately, I already had it copied over, but anyway, that’s why this isn’t in the standard ask format. Anyway, k-rukias, I hope you’re still out there somewhere and there’s some way you can see this!

k-rukias asked:

you grasp byakuya’s character SO PERFECTLY it always makes me laugh out loud, especially your “Uncle B” stories. i’d love it if you could write more of the kuchiki-abarai family+ichika(maybe throw in some byakuya&toshiro being bffs) I SWEAR YOU DO THE DOMESTIC GENRE SO WELL one can tell you have kiddos 🥺💕

“Give Uncle Byakuya a big hug, Ichika,” Rukia instructed, stifling a yawn. “You’ll see him again on Saturday.” Despite the cheer in her voice, the second Ichika’s tiny face was buried in Byakuya’s chest, she shot her brother a thumbs up and a quizzical look.

Byakuya gave a very firm thumbs up in return. His inconsiderate adjutant was having yet another birthday, and Rukia had asked if they might hold a small family celebration at the manor this year. Byakuya wasn’t sure why. Surely the man would prefer not to see his commanding officer on his own birthday, but Byakuya loved his sister and had made the arrangements she requested.

Ichika finished rubbing her sticky cheeks all over the silk of his kimono. “Here, Uncle B,” she said, handing him a folded piece of paper. “It has to be just like this, okay?”

“Of course, my blossom,” he promised.

“No, it doesn’t,” Rukia mouthed to him behind Ichika’s back. “Okay, kiddo, you ready to go home and see if Daddy missed us?”

“I bet he fell asleep on the couch again!”

“We’ll find out! See you, Saturday, Brother!”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sister,” Byakuya entreated her.

“If you have any questions, please call me,” she begged. “Or send a Hell Butterfly, or however you communicate with people these days.”

“I am very good at Text Messaging,” Byakuya assured her.

Rukia gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look, which he tolerated, because she looked very much like Hisana when she made it.

“I will not have any questions.”

As his beloved sister and niece took their leave, he unfolded Ichika’s piece of paper.

He stared at it.

He had so many questions.

--

“I do appreciate that you texted before you came over,” Captain Hitsugaya informed him stonily. “But next time, could you text, like, more than a minute before you show up? Maybe wait for a reply?”

“Is now not a good time?” Byakuya asked. “Have I interrupted Squad 10 napping hours?”

“I just… would have picked up first,” Hitsugaya grumbled, trying to keep a stack of paper from falling off his desk. “And it’s always Squad 10 napping hours.”

Currently, Lieutenants Matsumoto and Kuna were sprawled out on the Squad 10 couches, snoring quite loudly.

“I have seen it worse in here,” Byakuya replied. “I am your,” he swallowed, “friend, and I accept your imperfections.”

Hitsugaya glowered at him. “What do you need?”

Byakuya spread Ichika’s instructions out on Hitsugaya’s desk. “Can you tell what this is?”

Hitsugaya’s eyes scanned the drawing: the lumpy creatures that might be rabbits, the crayon scribbles, the puddle of glitter. “Is this a test?”

“If it is, I am in danger of failing it,” Byakuya admitted.

“Ichika made this?” Hitsugaya guessed.

“I imagine the glitter gave it away.”

“Can’t you get Abarai to decipher it for you?”

“I cannot. I am hosting a ‘Surprise Birthday Party’ for him this weekend, and this represents Ichika’s vision of it. I need to identify the items in the picture so I can have them for the party.”

Hitsugaya nodded slowly. “Ah. These are probably balloons, then?”

Byakuya straightened up. “Balloons or lanterns? Or possibly the overhanging blooms of the wisteria?”

“You’re overthinking it. She’s five. It’s balloons. Can you ask Rukia?”

Byakuya’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Ichika’s art style bears a certain… resemblance to her mother’s. I am worried that if I ask for help…” he trailed off.

“Gotcha,” Hitsugaya replied brusquely. He sucked his teeth, and poked a finger at the page. “Well, this is obviously Abarai.”

“Yes, he is always distinguishable by virtue of the fact that she draws him three times as large as the rest of us.”

“Also, he’s the only one with pink hair and stripes,” Hitsugaya replied, raising an eyebrow. “Oversensitive, much?”

“I am only three inches shorter than he,” Byakuya grumbled. “The hair makes him look taller.”

“You are not getting any sympathy here, give it up,” Hitsugaya grumbled back. “He’s got a hat on, I think? A party hat?”

“Yes, I did get that far. We are all wearing hats.”

“Abarai also appears to either be wearing a lei, or he is in bankai.”

“A lei?”

“A flower necklace? We should have some around here, from the last time Matsumoto threw a luau.”

“Ah, thank you,” Byakuya replied. He had not actually expected Hitsugaya to be quite this helpful, and he wondered how he was going to repay the man’s patience in this matter.

“All this stuff on the table is… food, maybe? Gosh, I cannot tell what any of this is. These things look like fish, but they’re brown… taiyaki, maybe?”

“Oh, yes, I had figured that part out as well. Even I know that taiyaki is Abarai’s preferred celebratory food. I actually have a specially made mold--”

“You should make normal ones. Fish ones.”

“He likes Admiral Seaweed taiyaki.”

“It’s the man’s birthday, don’t make him pretend to like your weird taiyaki.”

“They have more crispy bits because of the arms and legs! He told me that specifically, in a complimentary manner!”

Hitsugaya gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look. Unfortunately, the young man did not have the advantage of resembling Byakuya’s beautiful late wife.

--

Byakuya was distinctly Not Sure About This, but Hitsugaya had hit a wall and decided they needed to bring in ‘a bigger gun.’

Byakuya hadn’t actually set foot in the Squad 5 offices since Aizen’s departure. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about Aizen, generally, but at least the man had a classical taste in decor. Now, his former workspace more closely resembled the interior of an eclectic Living World coffee establishment for beatniks. One wall (but not the others) was painted orange, and covered in strange, stylized art that appeared to have been done by the captain and lieutenant themselves. The rug hurt his eyes. There was a beaded curtain.

“I don’t know why you thought I was going to have any insight on this, Shirou,” Lieutenant Hinamori grumped, squinting at the picture. “Renji’s the only one who can decipher these things.”

Byakuya could not help feeling the tiniest bit smug that he was not the only one who was sassed by his loved ones.

“Well, I figured you’d been to an Abarai birthday party or two,” Hitsugaya excused.

“Yeah,” Hinamori replied. “The grown-up ones. Unless this thing over here is supposed to be a tokkuri, and Captain and Lieutenant Kuchiki are arm wrestling, I can’t help you.” She frowned. “You’ve been to an Abarai birthday party, haven’t you?”

“They’re a little wild for my blood,” Hitsugaya excused. “And nobody likes drinking around their captain. I’ve been, but I usually leave before he starts bench-pressing people.”

“There are captains who come,” Momo pointed out. “And I doubt your presence would slow Matsumoto down, anyway, she’s impervious to that judgemental thing you do with your eyebrows.” She contemplated the paper. “What are these weird marks? Is this a speech bubble?”

“We couldn’t figure those out,” Hitsugaya admitted.

“Lemme take a look,” Captain Hirako, who was unfortunately present, announced. “Sometimes you gotta look at things from a different perspective.”

He turned the paper upside down. He turned it backwards. He turned it right side up, and turned his head sideways.

“I got nothing,” he replied. “Kid’s got good style though. And I think Momo may be onto something, actually. I went to Abarai’s last birthday party, and Kuchiki the Younger beat me at arm wrestling in an embarrassingly short amount of time.”

“It’s your noodle arms, sir,” Hinamori supplied. She stuck out her lower lip. “A different perspective, though, is not a bad idea. You know who you should go ask?”

Byakuya did not want to hear the answer.

--

“This is dango. This is katsudon. This is shaved ice.”

Byakuya was frantically taking notes.

“How… how can you tell?” Hitsugaya gaped.

Hachigou Nemuri regarded him with her serious, dark green eyes. “I have seen many of Abarai-chan’s drawings.”

Akon made a grumbling noise. “Abarai-chan’s drawing fuuuuu---udged up Nemu’s image recognition subroutines for months. I mean, it was a good thing, in the long run, I ended up implementing an entire art appreciation suite of dynamically created subroutines. It took me forever to figure out why she couldn’t recognize normal drawings of things, though.”

“What are these marks?” Byakuya asked, pointing to the funny squiggles hanging above everyone’s heads.

“Abarai-chan can’t write yet,” Nemu explained.

“Yes, I know that,” Byakuya replied.

“Writing is a form of communication that utilizes mutually understood symbols to convey an idea from one party to another,” Nemu recited. “Abarai-chan does not yet grasp the importance of a common dictionary in the delivery of information.”

Akon scratched his neck. “You’re saying Abarai-chan doesn’t know very many kana, so she just makes them up.”

“Correct,” Nemu agreed.

“Can you read them?” Hitsugaya asked hopefully.

“She does not employ a self-consistent character set.”

Byakuya and Hitsugaya’s eyes darted to Akon, who was unwrapping a piece of nicotine gum.

“She makes it up as she goes along,” he elaborated, cramming the gum in his mouth. “There is no translation.”

“Momo thought it might be a voice bubble, like in a cartoon,” Hitsugaya mused.

“Maybe it’s just a title to the piece,” Byakuya surmised. “Father’s Birthday Celebration’, for example.”

“Abarai-chan calls Lieutenant Abarai ‘Daddy’, not ‘Father’,” Nemu corrected.

“It was an example,” Byakuya bit off testily.

“This could be cherry shaved ice or strawberry shaved ice,” Nemu added hopefully. “Abarai-chan likes strawberry shaved ice, but I prefer cherry.”

“You are not attending this party,” Akon reminded her.

“I just thought Captain Kuchiki might be interested to know,” Nemu sniffed. “In case he felt like buying me a shaved ice. As a thank you for my services.”

--

Byakuya examined Ichika’s diagram and compared it to the celebratory items currently marring the beauty of his garden. He had the balloons. The hats. The dango. The taiyaki. Both strawberry and cherry shaved ice. “I think I have replicated everything,” he declared. “Have I missed anything?”

“You don’t have rabbit ears,” Hitsugaya replied dryly.

“The rabbit ears are symbolic,” Byakuya explained. “I am wearing the lei. You should put on a lei.”

“I am not putting on a lei. I am not in the picture at all, actually, so I think I should probably scram.”

“You could stay,” Byakuya replied, feeling a little odd about it.

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this a family thing?”

Byakuya blinked. “Family gatherings are large, mandatory, and unpleasant. This is a small party and I am very fond of the Abarai.”

Hitsugaya just stared at him.

Byakuya squirmed. “The fact is… I am not good at things like this.”

“Of course you are. Ichika adores you. Rukia and Renji do, too.”

A normal person would have wrinkled their nose, or sucked their teeth, but Byakuya wasn’t really into making facial expressions, so he just made his usual one and stared off into the middle distance briefly. “Hisana was very good with people. At these times, I often think about how easily she would host a birthday party for a brother-in-law, how natural she would have been with Ichika. She loved children.” He contemplated the drawing. “I am sure she would have interpreted this perfectly, text and all.”

Hitsugaya, who did make facial expressions, blew air out of his cheeks. “If it makes you feel better, I can stay.”

“I would, very much, appreciate it.”

Seike, Byakuya’s chief retainer, shuffled out onto the engawa. “Lord Kuchiki, the Abarai are here.”

“Please escort them out here,” Byakuya replied, plunking a hat on Captain Hitsugaya’s head, and one on his own.

“It’s so unusual for Uncle Byakuya to invite us over on a Saturday,” Byakuya could hear Rukia’s voice before he could see her. His impression was that the ‘surprise’ involved in this party was a figleaf for Ichika’s sake. Abarai was a fool, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“What is this?” Abarai exclaimed as he and his family stepped through the doorway, although he did a genuine double-take at Byakuya’s flower necklace.

Ichika’s face lit up as she took in the decorations, the food. But then her expression turned to dismay at her uncle, standing still and awkward. He had missed something. It was the text. It was important after all.

Hitsugaya’s elbow jammed into his ribs. “Surprise!” the younger captain yelled. A voice bubble! Of course!

“Surprise!” Byakuya added, belatedly.

“Happy Birthday!” they shouted together, with Rukia and Ichika joining in a beat later.

“Well, I’ll be!” Abarai did his best impression of a surprised person.

“Were you surprised, Daddy!” Ichika asked, jumping up and down and tugging on her father’s hand. “Were you?”

“I was very surprised,” Abarai reassured her.

“Why is Captain Hitsugaya here?” Rukia asked, utterly befuddled.

“I heard there was shaved ice,” Hitsugaya excused very quickly.

“Uncle B did all of it, Daddy, just for you! Isn’t it perfect?”

“Of course it is,” Abarai snorted. “If Uncle B did it, how could it be otherwise?”