#MY fictional old man hears nobody and cries so hard he throws up then gets on his tumblr discourse blog to make a new dni banner

[cliveguy]

"fictional old men would not be listening to mitski or mother mother" SPEAK for yourself. i know in my heart that my fictional old man would be tweeting lana del rey lyrics every 5 minutes and starting arguments on discord. so maybe think before you post.

[justonecitizenoftheearth]

The Saga of Rögnvald réttilbeini

Notes: This is a fanfiction about an old norse text! My friend proofread my final thesis about men who used a certain kind of magic in ancient northern Europe. This kind of magic is very strongly connected to women, so men using it were seen as unmanly, or ergi in old norse, which is also a term used for gay men. There is one story in the Heimskringla, a text about the first kings of Norway, about 80 wizards who practice this magic called seiðr living together. My friend liked the gay wizard commune very much, was very disappointed by their gruesome end, and asked for a fix-it. So here it is: The Saga of Rögnvald réttilbeini! 

I feel a bit blasphemous writing fanfiction about a 13th century text, but I think it turned out fine. Also, I know now a thing or two about norse magic now, but I took some creative liberties, this is fiction after all. ENJOY!!

@disorganisedautodidact

@fiifuchs

Rating: T

Content warning: Era-typical homophobia, era-typical gender roles, violence (not very graphic though)

Read it on AO3!

The Saga of Rögnvald réttilbeini

There was a man called Rögnvald. He was the son of the famous Harald hárfagra, the mighty king of Norway. But he wasn´t like Haralds other children. His fate led him to a different path.

The first time Rögnvald thought that there was something wrong with him, was the day he lost a swordfight and won a bet. He was nine years old and tried to be a good warrior,  a good fighter,  a good viking, so he could follow in his father´s footsteps. His father, who cast such a long shadow over the land and over the lives of his sons and daughters that Rögnvald wasn´t sure what the sun even looked like. But the axe and sword lay heavy in his hands and the anger and violence of his opponent hit him way before the wood did, let him stumble in fear and confusion. He wasn´t a good fighter. He was scared of his first raid. Of the pain and suffering he would have to endure. Of the pain and suffering he would cause. So he lost the swordfight against his older brother Eirik, who looked at his tears with a mix of pity and disgust. Men didn´t cry. Men didn´t lose. Men didn´t run into the woods afterwards, hands clutching the bruises on his arms and waist.

The woods were Rögnvalds friends. They held their own dangers, big animals, bad weather, you could trip and nobody would find you for days. But sometimes, when he allowed himself to dream, it seemed as if the vines opened a path for him, as if the birds sang louder when he came along, as if the rain fell warmer on his skin, as if the branches of the trees bowed down to him. Rögnvald had seen a bear or two, and there was a pack of wolves living nearby. He didn´t look for them in the vast forests, but he had seen their gray fur in the underbrush. But he never felt the same anger and violence in them that he did in his own brother, and Eirik had yet to kill him, so he decided to let them be as they let him be. Yes, the woods held dangers. But nowhere else seemed his father´s shadow so weak, nowhere else could Rögnvald breathe so deeply. His favorite place was on a cliff, looking over the fjord and away from the town. The sea breeze carried the smell of water, salt, and algae up to him and the trees sang their whispering songs in his back. It was his other brother who found him, Håkon, who sat down beside him and began throwing stones down into the grey-green waters below. It annoyed Rögnvald, but what was he supposed to do? So he looked away and up into the clouds.

“I think it´s going to start raining soon.”

Håkon looked up and frowned. “No, I think we have time before the rain starts. At least until we get back if we get going now, I bet.”

Rögnvald closed his eyes. The trees whispered. The wind sang. And up, way up in the clouds, he swore he could hear the soft tinkle of raindrops. He concentrated. He counted aloud. “One. Two. Three. Four.” The wind fell silent. “Five. Six. Seven.” The tinkle filled his senses. He sat up straight. “Eight. Nine. Ten.” He opened his eyes. The first raindrop hit his nose. He looked at his brother with wide eyes, who stared back through the downpour with disbelief and something between awe and mistrust in his eyes. Rögnvald didn´t know yet that he would get to know that look very well.

Rögnvalds grandmother Solveig was a Völva, a seer. She lived on her own and people came to her for advice or healing. They came with wounds and insecurities, with hurt in their hearts and sickness in their stomach. She had wise words and herbs for them. She could see what plagued them in their eyes and their future in clouds and the ashes of the hearth. Harald didn´t like her very much, he never came to her cottage, which was one more reason for Rögnvald to go there as often as possible. He sat at the fire in silence, watched her cut and dry herbs and listened to the sagas she told time and time again. He hid in her sleeping chambers when visitors came, listened to their stories of battle and love, of heartbreak and marriage, fishing and farming, the hardships and wonders of raising children and the weight of keeping secrets. Solveig didn´t judge. She listened patiently, gave advice when needed, warm tea for cold hands and hearts and an open ear for words that had to be said. It was in the darkness of her chambers in his eleventh summer that Rögnvald first heard of a man loving another.

The boy fled into the sleeping chambers of his grandmother as soon as he heard footsteps at her door. He sat down leaning against the wooden wall, and listened to the heavy steps of a man entering the house, bent down by grief. The voice of the man was surprisingly soft as he spoke, although Rögnvald had heard the heavy thud of an axe being set to the ground next to him. His name was Þorsteinn, and he had just come back from a raid to the Eastern coast. The raid had been a success, but not for him. His voice broke when he told Solveig about his friend Halvdan. How his eyes had gleamed under the moonlight when they got there. How his face had lit up by the fires of the first building burning. How ragged his breath sounded when he fell to the ground with an arrow in his chest. How cold his skin became when he died in his arms. Rögnvald cried Þorsteinns tears when the whole story broke free. After that, there was just the sound of grief for a long time. When he regained a little bit of his composure, Þorsteinn started to tell their story with faltering words. He told about a life-long friendship. About strange and secret feelings blooming. About the sweetness and terror of a first kiss. About two hands reaching for each other when everything they had been taught tried to pry them apart. About the thrill of fighting together and loving each other. About the hole left in his soul that he wasn´t allowed to show anywhere else. About the suspicion. About unmanliness, ergi, that they had been accused of, and the painful weeks apart to convince their families that nothing had happened that shouldn´t have. Solveig didn´t say anything. She brought tea and herbs for easier sleep. When Þorsteinns cries turned muffled, Rögnvald suspected that she held him while he fell apart. But he couldn´t move, couldn´t even wipe his face, was frozen in terror and excitement. It was forbidden. It was shameful. But he couldn´t help but wonder what it felt like to love another man so much. To touch his skin and know his soul, and his heart pounded, overwhelmed by the feeling of coming alive.

When Þorsteinn left, his steps were lighter, as was his heart, he had said that much. It took some more time until Rögnvald could make himself move. Solveig didn´t come to check on him, she let him be, let him take his time. It was one of the reasons he loved being with her so much. When he came back to the room, he just stared at her with wide, wet eyes. She looked back for a long moment, listening to the words unspoken. Then she kneeled down and held him, soothing his shivering, and humming a soft tone. When she got up again, she caressed his hair and lifted his chin. The light of the fire danced in her eyes.

“Fate is not always merciful, but it is never wrong.”

 The problems of his childhood grew heavier with every year of age that Rögnvald lived among his family. He had to learn how to fight eventually, it was the only way. He also learned to dread his growing feelings when fighting other boys hand to hand, his heart pounding with more than fear, his skin prickling with more than pain, pleasure and torment taking his breath away. There were, however, things he enjoyed, like hunting and learning how to provide for himself in the wilderness. Solveig taught him about herbs and plants, about the weather and the wind, the waves and the frost and every growing thing. But he had to come more secretly with every year, the disapproval of his father and his brothers weighed heavier with every spring. He didn´t understand it, until a skald came to Harald in his 14th summer, and was allowed to sing at the feast. He sang about Haralds deeds as the king of Norway, about the gods and the nine worlds. But then came another song, one that took Rögnvald back to ancient times. The woods were even wilder then, the cold harsher, the people more violent. But there was one more danger out in the wild. A man, half human, half beast. A man who could control the wind and the wild creatures of the woods. A man who sang forbidden songs to the sea and the rain, soothing or enraging. A man who was hunted. A man who killed his brothers like prey. A man who wasn´t a man but a monster. And Rögnvald thought of the woods and the wind and the rain that felt more like his family sometimes than his older brothers. He didn´t know when or how he left the hall. He came to himself when his own voice interrupted his ragged breathing and he whispered into the bark of the tree he was clinging to: “I am a monster.”

 Rögnvald kept away from his grandmother for some time. He fought hard to be what he was supposed to be, and kept himself away from the woods. His brothers approved, even his father seemed reluctantly pleased, but he failed to be happy about it. The woods called to him at night, his dreams haunted by visions. He saw a storm roll over the town, ripping down the mast of a ships and killing a man. He woke up in a cold sweat, dread heavy on his chest. Three days later he stood at the grave of the man killed by a falling mast in an autumn storm, and he thought he couldn´t breathe, he told himself that it was a coincidence and went hunting. Two days in the woods calmed his spirit, but he never forgot. The dreams became more frequent, his predictions more precise and he refused to sleep. He kept himself up and useful, stood guard in the dead of night and in the coldest days of the winter. Rögnvald shivered his way through the darkness and went to sleep in the morning. He dreamt of fire and rage, his skin turning black under the relentless flames, and when he woke up, the fire refused to leave his mind and veins. Rögnvald burned.

The fever ravaged his body for two weeks. Rögnvald barely ate, bare drank, wasn´t conscious for most of it. He screamed at the gods and begged them to take the foresight away from him. He swore to never touch a man, to never look at one, to never listen to the wind and the water again. He thrashed on his bed until he had to be bound to it and then he chaffed his skin raw on the ropes.

In the middle of his delirium, he had a moment of clarity. His grandmother sat at his bedside, bent over with worry, and she took his hand.

“The gods don´t make mistakes. You are what you are. Stop fighting it. If you are a seiðmaðr, you are supposed to be one. It´s alright, my dear Rögnvald. Your gift is not a curse.”

“It is alright?”

“It is alright.”

Rögnvald slept for four days. When  he woke up, weak and nauseous and thin as a bear in spring, his mind was clear for the first time in months. He smiled at his grandmother and stayed in her house during his recovery. He learned everything he could from her, every herb, every spell, every secret. He learned to understand the voices of the forest, he learned how to bribe the wind to do his bidding, and how to coax the fish to the surface of the ocean. She told him about Freyr and Freyja and the Vanir. About growth and death and the afterlife. He spent his days in the forest and avoided his brothers and parents. The people of his town started to turn their heads when he passed by, whispering filthy words, and uttering unfriendly suspicions. But he kept his head high, his sight clear and his mind calm.

When Rögnvald turned 17, his grandmother passed away. It didn´t come as a surprise. She had grown weak and slow over the past months. He had been the one to look for herbs in the fields and forests, he had talked to everyone who was willing to confide in him. Rögnvald had been sitting at her bedside and had carried her out to the cliff. They had watched as the sun climbed down towards the gray-green waves, tinted the mountains red and the sky golden. The sun took Solveig with her to the lands of the dead. Rögnvald buried her on a hill close to the water, where she could look over the sea and far into the forest covered mountains. Then he announced that he would leave his family and travel to find adventure. Nobody stopped him. Nobody thought he would return. Rögnvald knew he wouldn´t.

 The mountains were harsh in their beauty. Survival was hard, but Rögnvald learned to become a part of the land. He listened to the sky for rain and to the ground for shelter and prey. He read his fortune in the flight of the birds and the turn of the seasons in the clouds. His first winter was spent in a cave that he made into a home. But the cold wind found a way into his shelter, and the loneliness into his heart. When spring came, he swore he wouldn´t spend another winter like that.

Rögnvald had crossed Vestfold and came to Gulbrandsdalen. It was a lovely place, but the people were not fond of the name Harald hárfager, so he turned west into the mountains and towards the Hardanger fjord. Autumn sent it´s first cold breath over the lands when he crossed a meadow, the mountains in his back and the sea ahead. Sheep grazed peacefully and he stayed for a moment to admire the view. The rustling sound of steps behind him made him turn around. A man smiled at him; his face alit by the soft glow of the sunset. Rögnvald noticed long blond hair, shining green eyes and a firm grip as they greeted each other. The strangers´ voice was deep and rich as he announced his name:

“Frodi”

“Rögnvald”

They smiled at each other and Rögnvald followed back to Frodis hut. He stayed for the night and they talked much about Rögnvalds travels and Frodis sheep. About the summer passed and the winter ahead. Rögnvald helped Frodi with the harvest and the sheep. He hunted and fished for them both. When he called the fish to the surface of the pool out of habit, he turned in terror, expecting to see the same awe and suspicion as in his brother´s eyes, but Frodi met his gaze unafraid and full of warmth. Rögnvald couldn´t look away. The fishing net glided from his fingers. He took a step forward, heart in his throat, but he didn´t dare to go further. Instead, he turned, took up the net and caught the fish he had called. Frodi helped him to pull out the catch, fingers brushing and cheeks burning.

Rögnvald stayed another day. And another. They saw the first snow together. Every night came earlier and left more reluctantly. Every night found them laying down closer to each other. When Frodi took Rögnvalds hand and asked him to stay the winter, it didn´t come as a surprise, but that didn´t damp the happiness Rögnvald felt. His heart pounded in his chest and for the first time in his life, he felt as if he could stay.

Only the fire and the howling wind outside their hut witnessed them as they sat by the hearth one evening, shifting closer and closer together, fingers and hearts shaking as their hands found each other. For one eternal moment they looked into each other’s eyes, question and answer in one. The first brush of lips was sweet as the first touch of spring and as overwhelming as the first winter storm. Rögnvald wrapped his arms around Frodi when it ended, and held on as if his life depended on it, and maybe it did.

Winter went by slowly, in darkness and bitter cold, but Rögnvald barely noticed. He spent his days under warm furs, wrapped around an even warmer body. He learned what it meant to feel another mans skin on his own, how lips could burn and what pleasures another one’s company held. They talked a lot and by the end of winter, they knew each other so well that words were mostly unnecessary. Touches and looks were enough. Rögnvald learned what it was to love and to be loved in return, and a part of him lived in this time until the end of his life.

 Spring came, and they saw the rise of the sun with soaring hearts. They sat in front of their hut, holding hands, and looking over the endless ocean, sure about their place in the world. Summer came and they rolled around in the soft grass, the sun witnessing their joy and pleasure. Autumn came and they brought in the harvest together and reveled in the riches that nature gave them. Winter came and Rögnvald told Frodi everything he had learned from his grandmother. They talked about the power of nature, about the prejudice of humans, what it meant to be a man and what it meant to be a seiðmaðr. They dreamed about finding others of their kind. About finding and shaping a place that would allow them to be who they were. When spring came, they were ready. As the snow climbed up the mountains, they did too, hope and sorrow both heavy in their hearts as they left their sanctuary. They turned southeast, towards lands where they would be able to grow the plants they needed to feed their people, and towards the border of king Haralds influence. In the middle of summer, they found a remote valley in Haðaland, green and lush, secluded, and safe. They built a home for themselves and their sheep, and prepared for the winter. A wandering skald came through. They saw a longing in his heart they recognized. His name was Kjell. He stayed for one day that turned into ten and then into all winter. They shared with him what they had, their food, their shelter, their bed, and their hearts. Food became scarce, but house and hearth stayed warm, and they made it to the next spring. But Kjell wasn´t one to stay in one place for a long time. He longed to roam the land, but promised to spread the word among others like them, and to return for the winter. Their farewell was heartfelt and warm.

Rögnvald and Frodi began to prepare the land for their reign. They cut down some trees, but they didn´t clear the land as their people had done. They planted what they needed in the half shade of the birch forest. They dreamt of others coming to join them, and prepared shelters in time for their arrival. Three other men arrived, Erik, Þorgrim and Ragnar, they had met Kjell and were in awe about the bravery of the two seiðmenn. Two others came, Þorleik and Reik, led to them by their dreams. Two were led there by fate, Halvdan and Leif. Rögnvald and Frodi listened to their stories of violence and abuse, broken families and broken trust. They dried the tears of their new friends as well as they could and gave them something to believe in. Together, they built more houses between the trees. The men had brought goats with them that mingled with Frodis sheep. Summer was as warm and rich as the season could be, and their gardens and fields flourished. They bathed in the river nearby and watched the birds fly by overhead. Rögnvald and Frodi stayed close together, in awe of how their lands and lives bloomed. Autumn brought rich harvest and good hunt. Halvdan and Reik, who had found shelter in each other´s arms, went down to the fjord, with furs and art to trade for salt. Rögnvald, Erik and Þorgrim went hunting and came back in time to pickle the meat. Kjell returned with the first snow and Rögnvald and Frodi welcomed him back into their lives and bed with open arms.

 Years went by. More men came. Bonds were made. They spread their houses far and wide over the valley. Some of them preferred more secluded, remote places where they lived in harmony with nature. Some were happy to have found company that didn´t judge them for who they were. However, they were human, naturally there were some fights, jealousy over lands and hearts, or power. But those fights could be solved quickly, and most were aware that there was no better place to be for people like them. Women joined them, too. Mostly those unhappy with the role that they had been assigned for by their communities. They were women who loved another, who had no interest in settling down with a man, or to bear children. Many of them had learned the things that Rögnvald had learned from Solveig from their own mothers and grandmothers and didn´t want to hide who they were.

Of course, there were hardships, too. Being able to influence the weather didn´t mean that they could change the climate. Sometimes all attempts to call for rain were in vain. Sometimes even the nightly fires couldn´t keep the apple blossoms from freezing in the early spring. Mud and cold weather were as uncomfortable as ever, and sometimes the healers tried in vain to chase the sickness from a friend. But they helped each other out through all grievances and held each other up and laughter was heard more often than weeping.

Life flourished, and after ten years, about 80 people lived in the valley in Haðaland, some all year, some all summer, some came back for winter like Kjell. Music and dance were omnipresent, and they dressed as they wished to. Frodi had taken a liking to dresses while some of the women, like Þora and Ragnhild, who had fled their husbands together with their children, preferred breeches. Rögnvald and Frodi loved to take care of the children while their mothers were out and hunting, or fishing, or taking some time for themselves under the warm glow of the summer sun. The longing for Kjell was a permanent ache in their hearts, but one they shared.

Summer and winter solstices were celebrated with great fires, with drums and song, and many ate mushrooms or inhaled the smoke of burning herbs to widen their minds and leave the confines of their bodies to look for truth and vision in the depth of the space between the worlds. Rögnvald led those dances, and it was Frodi who brought him back from the vast emptiness of a space beyond sense and reason with gentle kisses and touches. Frodi, who brought him tea for his aching head and held him close and safe as he sank into an exhausted sleep. As they enjoyed the company of Kjell during the winters, there were many who didn´t exclude others from their pleasures, as well as those who preferred to stay by themselves. Live in Haðaland was free, and easy, and in harmony with nature and each other. But darkness tends to be drawn to places of light, and Rögnvald and his 80 seiðmenn and völvas were no exception. Dark dreams came as a messenger of hardship to come, and while they lived in peace and prosperity, the dread sank in like ink seeping through a piece of parchment.

 It was Kjell who brought the news. He had been at the court of Harald hárfager and he had ridden his horse half to death to get to them in time. He jumped from his exhausted steed, far too early for his return, in the beginning of autumn. With wide strides, he crossed the village to get to Frodi, who was pulling up weeds. His green eyes gleamed when he saw his beloved return, but his gaze quickly darkened when he noticed the pain and regret in Kjell´s face.

“Call everyone together! I will look for Rögnvald! Quickly, we don´t have time!”

Frodi nodded, but pulled Kjell in for a desperate kiss. “I will. Rögnvald is in the woods. Listen to the birds, they will lead you. Everything will be alright!”

Kjell nodded and ran into the forest, leaving Frodi with dread and fear in his heart.

 Harald was coming. Harald hárfager, who hated seiðr-magic, had sent Rögnvalds brother Eirik to them, to come and clear his father´s name of the shame that was a seiðmaðr as a son.

“I´m sorry. It is my fault. I told the seer Vitgeir about you, about us. I thought he would join us, but he revealed your gifts to your father. It is no secret where you dwell, but the nature of our community was, and is no longer, because of me. Please, forgive me, my love.”

Rögnvald stood and pulled Kjell up into his arms.

“There is nothing to forgive, beloved one. There was no reason to distrust one of our own. What has been done has been done. But the wheel of fortune spins quickly.”

He turned towards his people. He saw their frightened eyes and the hope shattered in their hearts and a fire roared in his ears unlike any he had ever felt before. These people were his family, his kin. He would rather burn than let anything happen to them by his brother’s hand. He´d rather turn the land itself against the men coming for them. He´d rather perish with them then let them touch what was his to protect. He spoke:

“Pack what you can. Hide in the mountains. Let Eirik come, he will find no living soul on this ground.”

Frodi took his hand, worry clearly visible in his frown.

“They will know we have left. They will hunt us like deer.”

Rögnvalds gaze turned to steel. “No, they won´t.”

Nightfall saw the village empty. Everything that could be carried had been packed. The animals had been led far into the forest. The children had been silent and scared. Rögnvald saw the last of his people disappear into the dark of the forest at night. Frodi pulled at his hand as Kjell watched the horizon with growing dread.

“We have to go.”

“No.”

Rögnvald saw the pain and fear in both his lover´s faces. He pulled them close.

“I will not let them get those I love. They will leave here believing that we have all perished. Then we will go and find another place to live.”

“How?”

“You will see.”

Rögnvald felt the faint vibrations of many feet approaching the village.

“Go, go now! Return with the sun!”

Kjell hesitated. Then he spoke:

“I have travelled many dangerous roads, and you always trusted me to come back. I trust you now.”

Then he pulled Frodi up and muffled his cries with his hand as he dragged him into the safety of the forest. Rögnvald stayed behind and sank to the ground. He beckoned the wind to do his bidding. He asked the clouds to cover the moon. He asked the animals around him to flee to safety. He waited and felt his fate approach. When the darkness was deepest, they came. And he was ready.

Rögnvald asked the wind to lift the dust up to form running humans, darting across the village. He asked it to cry with children´s voices. He let it carry his voice down to his brother, to beg him to turn back. He didn´t. Rögnvald wasn´t surprised, but he felt fire and rage burning in his veins like never before. For a moment he realized that he understood his brother now more than ever. Here, at the crossroads, before they would part ways forever, they were closest to each other. Then the thought vanished, drowned out by fire and fury.

Rögnvald let the doors of the great hall in the middle of his village fly open and let the wind carry the dust inside. He rattled with the swords and axes left behind as a cover. He clouded the minds of these people he had once called his own, as he had clouded the sky. And when they threw the first torch into the house that had once been his home, he let his rage fuel the flames, let the fire scream with the voices of his family, let the light lead them to all their houses. He let the wind carry embers into their faces and away from the trees. He raged with the roaring inferno as it devoured everything they had built up with their bare hands. Rögnvald bowed down and begged the bones of the land to imitate the bones of the people closest to him as the rain poured down and tamed the raging flames. His words died down with the flickering fires and the silence of death sank heavily onto the land. He sank down with the ashes, too drained to move, and watched as they looked through the buildings, taking everything that hadn´t been burned to a crisp, too tired to listen to their laughter and delight. He watched as they pissed on what they thought were his bones. He watched as the last one disappeared with the first light of morning. The black, scorched earth came closer, blocked out the light of the sun and pulled him down into the cold and dark, and then there was nothing.

 The first thing Rögnvald felt was water dripping onto his face. It was salty. The ground seemed to sway underneath him. He opened his eyes and saw the faces of his lovers, distorted by desperation, their tears falling onto his lips and cheeks. He wanted to reassure them, but the black earth called him back.

 The second thing Rögnvald felt was water dripping onto his face. It was sweet. His body swayed as if carried. He opened his eyes to a cloudy sky. Rain fell into his eyes as he was carried to a wagon and laid down carefully by Kjell. He wanted to ask something, but the darkness called him back before he could find his tongue.

 The third thing Rögnvald felt was water dripping onto his face. It was salty. His body swayed and as he opened his eyes, he found himself on a ship. His head rested in Frodis lap and as he slowly sat up, he saw the coast of Norway disappear in the distance. His hands were cradled in those of his lovers and together, they turned their backs on the land and people who had never wanted them in the first place.

  They sailed west until they came to the coast of a green land. Mountains rose into a clear blue sky. They didn´t want to go to Iceland, which was too far away to settle down before winter. They didn´t want to go to the Orkney islands, which Harald had shown interest in even before Rögnvald left. They sailed around the land called Alba, and were welcomed with open arms. The people helped them over the winter. They shared stories of a god with antlers, and an island covered in mist. They tended their wounds and shared what they had and stayed their friends over many winters to come.

In the spring, Rögnvald and his family sailed over to an island barely visible from the mainland. It was partly covered in forests, with a steep northern coast and soft slopes leading down to the waters in the south. It wasn´t as lush as their old home, but it was more than enough.

They sowed the seeds of their old home and watched them grow over the springs to come. Getting enough wood to build all the houses was difficult, so they started building with clay and earth, let grass cover their roofs and protect them from unwanted eyes. Some of the people from the mainland joined them and some of their own decided to live there. Kjell started to roam the lands again during summer, after being afraid to leave for some years. The island stopped being their exile and started feeling like home.

They took the legends of the land they had settled in to heart, and whenever foreign ships approached, they surrounded their island with mist, impenetrable for the eye and frightening to the heart. Only those who had been led there once were allowed to set foot on the land. Rögnvald and the others built a seat on the steep northern cliff, and there was a guard watching over the island at all times, who called the mist in and warned his friends when strangers approached. The land beneath their feet started to recognize their footsteps, just as they learned to hear the song in the old bones of the land, and they became one before the first one of Rögnvalds family realized it.

One morning, Rögnvald stood on the watchtower with Frodi. It was spring, and a small ship sailed out towards the mainland. On board was Kjell, who sailed out to his annual journeys. He had been more reluctant to go than ever before. They all suspected that he would one day grow tired of his wanderings, but it wasn´t this year and it was his decision to make. So they watched him go with a familiar longing in their hearts. After the boat had passed from view, Rögnvald turned his head towards Frodi. The first silver strands had started to sneak into his golden hair. But the green eyes were alive and warm as ever, just as the arm he wrapped around Rögnvald. They watched the sun rise over Alba and the light flood the land to their feet, where their family slowly awoke to a new day.

[restlessmaknae]

measure of life

“I wish I could have your will-power,” she mentioned almost in awe, and in that moment, Luda understood that they would never get it. Never.

♦ Characters: uni student!Jin x uni student!OC (Luda)

♦ Genre: psychological, drama, angst, slice of life

♦ Words: 14k

♦ Warning: this story will be about the OC’s eating disorder - specifically anorexia - evolving and her fight with it, so even though there are no numbers mentioned here, eating disorder habits (calorie counting, weighing oneself, hiding in baggy clothes, lying etc) will be mentioned, so please, if you are easily triggered by the topic, do not read the story!

♦ A/N: Although there are fictional parts, a lot of scenes are inspired by my own life since I’ve also been dealing with anorexia myself, but I’ve been in recovery for three years and I’m better than ever! Therefore, I felt like I could do justice to my journey only if I finished writing this story that I started when I was diagnosed. If you or anyone suffer from an eating disorder, please, reach out for help! It will get better, I promise! My ask box is also always open! 💖

When you look in the mirror, who do you see? What do you see? Fat? What about your waistline? Is it correct? Do you think it should look like this? Do you think you should look like this?

They always say that you are not enough. You are not skinny enough. To be precise, you are not skinny. Who has ever told you that you are? No one? That’s right. That’s because nobody would like to lie to you. They would rather let it slide because they don’t want to hurt you.

Are you okay with that? Are you okay with how do you look? No? Then, change! After all, Jaejun even left you because you weren’t skinny. Or at least, not as skinny as your best friend. Or ex-best friend. 

Comparing, hah? What a nasty word! Still, it hurts, doesn’t it? You always knew that she was skinnier than you, she was always more beautiful than you and she was even praised for her pretty features. People even begged her to eat more when you just sat there staring blankly at your empty plate and wondered why nobody had asked you to do the same. Apparently, you never needed those extra calories because everyone knew that you would get fat. They were the ones who couldn’t. There were always people like your best friend who couldn’t gain a single pound even if they ate three times more than you. Not to mention that they could casually eat fatty, unhealthy food while you did your best to avoid it as much as possible. The result couldn’t be seen on you though.

Still, you are the one who’s not enough and you are the one who never once heard in her life that she’s skinny. You try to shrug it off and claim that it’s okay. You are okay with that. But it sucks, right? It does. Every single damn time when she’s munching away on her triple chocolate muffins while you are eating a single apple. Every single time a boy turns around to look at her, totally ignoring your presence. Every single time your friends whine that ’Please, Eunbi, eat more. You are so skinny!’ or ’Please, eat a lot. It won’t hurt, you need it.’ 

It’s like an invisible bullet through your heart. Every single time they fire at you and you can’t help but get weaker and weaker. You grow to hate yourself, your body, your weight. Everything that is you. Because that seems to be your only flaw now; you are a good student, people think that you have the perfect family, and you have never failed anything in your life. You are only flawed when it comes to your appearance.

Now, put an end to this! Change! It shouldn’t be that hard, right? Everyone’s dieting now, you can do it, too. You are strong enough, you can endure it. In the end, you will surely get what you want. Melt that fat and be the one who people call skinny! Dare to wear girly and not baggy clothes. Months from now on, you shouldn’t be afraid to show your figure to the world. You can do it, you can achieve it!

“Yes! I can do it,” she said to the figure in the mirror, frowning constantly at the sight. All she could see was fat, fat and fat. Her thighs were big, her waistline was something that she wouldn’t dare to look at and her cheeks were puffy. She looked at her reflection again, hoping that the picture would change, the flaws would fade away.

Unfortunately, they didn’t. Unbeknownst to her, it was all in her head, the seed of the growing disease was inside of her. It started with her vision. What she saw was not real, yet she believed that it was real.

“I have to do it,” she claimed confidently, throwing one last flinch at that so-called fat body of hers and left the room.

It was the day when it all started. When Choi Luda decided to listen to the intriguing voice in her head and follow its lead. It was a first-class ticket to the Hell of self-hatred.

You are not enough. I need someone better. You know… someone funnier, more easy-going, someone who doesn’t have such a low self-esteem. I know that you don’t do it to irritate others but honestly… after a while, it can get pretty annoying.

Jaejun’s words were still running through her head when she was on the way back to her apartment, resting her head on the cold glass of the window. It was only an hour ago when the boy confessed that he wanted to break up with her and left her at the restaurant where they had previously decided to meet up. She foresaw that something was fishy when they didn’t even order anything and the words had already slipped out of Jaejun’s mouth:

“We need to talk, Luda,” he announced after clearing his throat to get her attention and that’s how all it started. She didn’t know how long he talked but she knew that he completely broke her heart. Not once, not twice, multiple times.

It started with the fact that he found it annoying that she always refused to go to a fast-food restaurant when he asked her out. It wasn’t because she hated fast food – at that time, she could still stand the thought of eating a burger and chips – but she was fond of old school dates with watching movies at each other’s flats, going to the amusement park, having a picnic outside, going hiking together or merely having lunch at a decent restaurant, not Burger King. Was it really too much to ask? All Jaejun had always wanted to do was to go to a fast food restaurant where they couldn’t even hear each other properly.

On top of that, he blamed her because she wasn’t as lovely as Ara - her best friend. Obviously, she had seen that those two had a thing but she wouldn’t like to admit it. She would have felt more pitiful, she would have felt like she was being used. Jaejun needed her to get closer to Ara. Now, she saw it like how it was, not how she wanted it to be. And it hurt. It hurt as if a poisoned arrow had been sent to her heart, slowly and mercilessly encouraging the disease to spread through her veins and destroy her body.

And then again, she wasn’t enough. She dread those words because it would mean that she failed. All she did was to please others, to meet others’ expectations. She began to lose herself in the midst of trying to be perfect but she didn’t care until others approved of her – her friends, her family, her boyfriend, the professors and the society. She became a perfectionist, someone who feared making mistakes and was terrified to let people down.

You are not enough.

Another teardrop was making its way down her cheeks as she was sobbing silently in the back of the bus. It was past 9pm and she was the only passenger. Not like she would stop wiping if someone showed up but she felt like she was safe. The silence and the monotonous swing of the vehicle was somewhat soothing for her frazzled nerves. Yet, the tears seemed to have no end. She cried, cried and cried some more until a young man suddenly handed her a tissue.

“Is there something wrong?”

The gentle male voice asked and startled Luda who was absent-mindedly looking out of the window. She hadn’t even taken notice of the new passenger as she hadn’t had for that. She tried to pick herself up but to no avail. She was too broken for the time being.

No was what she tried to say but she couldn’t bring herself to lie. She was already fed up with lies, she didn’t want to become a lying machine herself.

“My...” She stuttered in between sobs and didn’t even manage to end her sentence. It was too sorrowful to say it out loud. She felt like if she told someone about the break-up, it would eventually become real and she would need to accept the fact and never broach up the topic again. However, she wasn’t over it, she still couldn’t let go of Jaejun’s words. They were haunting her, whispering creepily into her ears, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her to the dark hole of self-hatred.

“I-I was actually...” She made an attempt to confess to the stranger but failed miserably. Instead, she burst into tears again.

The teardrops were searing, leaving sorrowful scars on her pale skin, placing poisonous kisses on her rosy cheeks. She wanted to wash away all the memories they had shared with Jaejun but she also felt pitiful at the same time. Was it really worth it to cry over such a guy like Lim Jaejun? Was he really worth it? Were those 11 months that they had spent together worthy of her pearl-like tears? She didn’t know, therefore she felt even more awful.

It got better only when the male started patting her back and gently prompted her to lean onto his shoulder. In the beginning, she protested a bit, fidgeting in her seat to make a decision but after a couple more sad teardrops, she decided to give in. At first, the whole situation felt peculiar – she was crying her eyes out in the arms of another man after an hour of her break-up – but after a while, she found the presence of the guy prominently reassuring and his touch undoubtedly fond.

So she just let it all out. She let the pain take over her and her pride to bury itself with her worried thoughts concerning the cosiness of their scene. The more she stayed in his arms, the less she felt the need to cry. It felt like a safe haven to her. He felt like a safe haven to her.

Her wounds seemed to heal a bit, her mind was less tangled than before as her thoughts weren’t screaming as loudly as they had done so before the young man showed up. She felt at ease for the first time in the last couple of hours and it was all thanks to his assistance. If it weren’t for him, she would have cried the whole way back to her flat.

Speaking of the bus journey itself, they were slowly approaching her final destination and the thought made her come back to her senses. As it crossed her mind, she immediately pulled back from him, a bit ashamed because of the fact that she had just revealed her weak self to a total stranger.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she apologised in an instant and busied herself with wiping off the imaginable dust from her jeans. “I’ve just made your shirt all wet. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have−”

“No, no, it’s totally okay,” the handsome stranger cut her off and boosted a friendly smile to set her at ease. “When one needs someone to lean on, I am more than happy to be that someone. It would get worse if you didn’t let it out, so don’t be ashamed,” he stated gently, his soft, honey-like voice sending pleasant chills running down her spine. 

She couldn’t help but feel guilty at the immediate reaction of her body. He was a stranger after all. His presence shouldn’t have done odd things to the state of her heart the day her boyfriend just dumped her! It wasn’t right.

“But it’s so weird. I don’t even know you.”

“Everyone starts out as strangers, right?” He shrugged it off with the most reassuring smile that she had ever seen in her life. Her shoulders slumped. Unwarily, a smile casted on her face as well.

“Right.” Luda nodded coyly.

The next few seconds were spent in awkward silence, both of them stealing glances when the other wasn’t aware of being watched. Neither of them knew what to say or do until the handsome stranger finally broke the silence.

“By the way, I’m Kim Seokjin. But you can just call me Jin,” he introduced himself as he reached his hand out and she took it without hesitation. She had to admit that his grip was firm yet gentle. His touch was searing yet tempting. She found herself staring at their hands, examining the obvious difference between their sizes. The boy’s hand was so much larger than hers and his fingers were also longer. They looked like the fingers of an artist or at least someone who had constantly worked on something using his hands. She pondered for a thought what he could possibly be doing.

“Choi Luda,” she did the same, bobbing her head and removing her hand from his. “And thank you for−”

“Being your crying pillow?” Jin raised his eyebrow in question, his eyes hinting at his amusement. “Anytime,” he offered voluntarily, making both of them astonished at his remark.

Yet, she soon found herself laughing at his cute comment. It was the first time she laughed that day and it felt like the weight was finally lifted off of her chest. She was finally able to breathe. Her head wasn’t full of negative thoughts. That one monologue wasn’t playing in her head like a broken tape record. No. It was her, the sound of her pleased laughter and his breathtaking smile. 

“Now you are laughing at me. Why? I was totally serious!” He acted like he was hurt but she could detect the playfulness in his voice. A moment later, her theory proved right as he also let himself laugh with her. “Just kidding, I’m happy that you can smile now,” he noted smoothly, making her blush like a teenage girl. It was weird to hear something like this from a stranger but it made her heart leap a bit.

Unfortunately, the bus came to a halt and it was already her stop, so she needed to get off. The doors flew open and she didn’t have time to say a proper goodbye even though she wanted to say so many things to Jin. She was utterly thankful for him being there for her despite the fact that she didn’t even tell him that she was under the weather because her boyfriend had broken up with her. Nonetheless, he – quite literally – offered a shoulder to lean on, helping her until she was able to smile again. There was so much to be thankful for, yet the time was ticking.

“Uh, that’s my stop, I need to get off.” Luda jumped from her seat in an instant and swiftly made her way to the door. “Thank you so much, Jin! I hope we’ll see each other in the future!” She hollered before the doors closed behind her. 

She pouted a bit as she turned around and the vehicle was already moving but it was immediately replaced by a smile when she caught sight of the handsome stranger who was grinning widely and waving in her direction. Before the bus totally disappeared from her sight, she swore that she had seen a flying kiss from him.

What a day!

There was one thing she hated even more than the fact that she needed to attend her lectures at the university. It was the fact that most likely, she would bump into her best friend. Or ex-best friend. Who knew actually?

Jaejun had dumped her on Friday and here she was in her tiny room the following Monday with tangled thoughts and still no calls from Ara. Did she really think that it should be the way she tells her that Jaejun was interested in her and they actually broke up because of her? She doubted that Ara had no idea what was going on. Even if she really didn’t know, she should have called her to ask her about it, offer that she would listen to her rumblings or suggest watching a romantic movie and cursing all males who were living on this planet.

That’s what they used to do when they had still been best friends. They had been close ever since Luda’s family had moved next door when they had both been little kids. As Ara had been the only girl who had been her age in the neighbourhood, they had had no chance but to play together and the afternoons spent together at the playground had eventually grown into friendship. Ever since the day Ara had been forced to bring cookie to welcome the new neighbours and Luda had been the one to open the door for her, they had been inseparable. High school hadn’t been an obstacle either, they had been just as close – if not closer – as they used to be during their teenage years.

Then, university had come. Two years ago, they had both been accepted at the Seoul National University, therefore they had had to move to the capital. As they couldn’t find a flat which would be able to accommodate both of them, they had to be separated for the first time in their lives. They couldn’t even speak as much as they wanted to since Ara had started studying Korean History while Luda had started studying English Literature. Their time schedules had been different but she wouldn’t say that they had drifted apart. Their relationship had risen to a higher level, a more mature one. It had been a healthy change, an essential one. It hadn’t been until she had started dating Jaejun that things had also started to change between the two girls.

She shook her head fervently at the thought. She didn’t want to think about it. Her mind was already twisted, it was like a living monster. There was that tiny voice in her head that tried its best to persuade her that she wasn’t enough and that’s why people left her. That voice was born when the words had slipped through Jaejun’s mouth.

After that, there was no turning back, it was a constant companion. Although only a weekend passed, it came back again and again. It didn’t win over her, not yet. But whenever she saw a kissing couple on the streets, a flower that she used to get from Jaejun or his favourite fast food place where he hang out most of the time, she couldn’t help but feel worthless.

She couldn’t even bring herself to eat, the thought was sometimes so loud that she even lost her appetite. Other times, she would eat a delicious strawberry cupcake, just to forget about him. At that time, she was still in control of herself, her food and her life. The voice was born but it was still a baby.

“I hate Monday mornings,” she murmured under her breath as she made her way to the bathroom.

“You are not alone with that,” a raspy voice hollered from the opposite room. It was Luda’s flatmate – Inna – who was an early bird, even when she didn’t need to get up early for her classes. She was one year older than her and the flat that she rented was actually Inna’s father’s. They got on pretty well, although they didn’t talk a lot.

“Good to hear that,” she commented and a chuckle made its way past her lips as she stepped into the bathroom.

It took her 20 minutes to get changed and be ready to face the inevitable. She grabbed some baked goods – her favourite handmade, buttery croissants - and a cup of hot chocolate on her way to the university, making sure that she would get enough energy until lunch. She had decided to cut back on her snack time previously between breakfasts and lunch because she didn’t have the time to eat them due to her busy schedule. Plus, she convinced herself that it was only a habit that she started when she was still a secondary school student, so she wouldn’t need those extra calories anymore. But breakfast was breakfast and she adored croissants, she couldn’t imagine her mornings without some pastry accompanied by a hot drink. 

Of course, as time went by, it all changed.

“Luda, can we talk?”

The voice that she didn’t want to hear actually called her name. At first, she assumed that it was all in her head but when she turned around to look for its owner, she almost literally bumped into Ara.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit busy now,” she made an attempt to excuse herself because the thought of having a chat with Ara made her stomach churn with worry. “Can’t we talk a bit later?” she motioned with a forced smile plastered on her face but actually, she didn’t want to talk to her. Not then, not later, not ever. If she really wanted to talk to her, she should have called her already.

“Okay.” The other girl nodded in submission and her reaction caught her off-guard. Was it that easy to get rid of her? “How about we grab something at Starbucks later? They say they have a new cheesecake that you can’t miss out on,” she chattered gleefully as if there hadn’t been a single thing that she should be ashamed of.

Luda felt a need to outright laugh at her but instead, she was merely disgusted. How could she have ever spent time with a girl like Ara? How could she have ever see her as someone kind, caring and sympathetic? Her so-called best friend couldn’t even see that she wanted nothing more than to evaporate and never see her pretty face again.

“Actually, I have−”

“I’ll see you at 5 then. At our usual table.” Ara winked at her and swiftly scampered away before Luda could even have the chance to protest. A huff of air left her nose in disbelief. She couldn’t believe that Ara was so blind. So adamant. So annoying.

So perfect. So flawless. So pretty. So skinny.

Small wonder how she could find herself in the closest Starbucks an hour later, waiting for Ara to arrive. She impatiently looked at the clock but she immediately wished that she didn’t. 20 minutes had passed since her best friend should have arrived and she was nowhere in sight. Not to mention that the seconds passed by more and more slowly and she was already fed up with waiting. After all, she wasn’t the one who wanted this conversation and now she was the one who was there? What kind of absurd situation she had gotten herself into?

As soon as she made up her mind and stood up, Ara beamingly plunked herself down in the seat in front of her.

“Sorry, I’m late, I know. I’ve just had a talk with one of the guys at campus and−” she explained hurriedly, using large gestures to indicate her truth. Luda didn’t feel like listening to her excuse, so she cut her off.

“Was it Jaejun?”

“What?” Ara’s eyes widened in surprise but her astonishment slowly turned into something else. It was fear.

“I asked if that guy was Jaejun.”

“Uhm, well,” she hesitated, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly, a bit torn between the idea of lying to her best friend or telling her truth, even though she was perfectly aware of the fact that it would her hurt, if not breaking her heart. “Yeah, it was him,” she admitted ashamedly. She averted her eyes elsewhere but Luda’s face because she couldn’t bear the apparent disappointment showing on her face.

“Of course.” She couldn’t help but scoff. “Who else would it be?” Luda muttered but her best friend could still hear it perfectly well. She didn’t care anymore, it wasn’t like she didn’t have the right to be angry at her.

“I wanted to tell you, Luda. I really wanted to but I just couldn’t find the appropriate time to say it. It’s not something that I should tell you in the middle of the busy corridors.”

“You’re right. It’s not,” she agreed fervently. She had to remind herself again and again to keep her composure in check and never show her real feelings. Never say her real thoughts out loud, the ones that were kept in the deepest forests of her heart, nourished by the voice in her head. They were raw and merciless. They were already tearing her apart. “But you had the weekend for that. I bet you knew that we broke up with Jaejun on Friday, so you should have given me a call by now. Yet, you didn’t,” she pointed it out in a small voice.

“I know and I’m sorry. I really am. But… you know, it’s not an easy thing to talk about,” Ara admitted bashfully, her words barely audible.

Luda wanted to laugh scornfully, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. After all, she had never showed her proper feelings not to hurt anyone, so how could this time be any different? She felt the need to punch a wall though. Hearing that it wasn’t an easy thing to talk about was the biggest lie she had ever heard. Ara used to handle situations like this so well. Even when she had kissed Luda’s first boyfriend while they were hads till been dating, she had confessed to her the moment it had happened. She hadn’t even blinked, she hadn’t even hesitated. So, what exactly had changed since then?

“We didn’t mean to fall in love,” her best friend protested. She bit her lower lip, a habit that she still couldn’t get rid of when she was embarrassed despite her overflowing confidence. “It just… somehow happened on the way.”

“It just somehow happened?” Luda repeated, not believing her ears. What nonsense was she babbling about? Falling in love with your best friend’s boyfriend can just happen on the way? Rubbish! “Since when did you two have a thing? Since the party at Taehyung’s?” she raised her eyebrows in question, the rage underlying behind her actions.

Ara gulped. She wasn’t ready for such hardships. She thought that it would go smoothly, Luda being as sympathetic as ever, and she wouldn’t have to worry about the consequences of falling in love with Jaejun. It seemed that it wasn’t as easy as she had initially planned.

“Yeah, actually, it was then when we first realised that we like each other and we wanted to tell you. I swear.”

“It was already a month ago!” Luda croaked, her voice a bit raspy. “If you had said something then, it wouldn’t hurt so much now. Maybe you could have actually saved me from Jaejun’s horrible comparing.”

“I’m sorry. I know he thinks that I’m a goddess or something but I didn’t ask him to compare you to me,” Ara emphasised the fact but to no avail. Her best friend merely rolled her eyes at her and huffed furiously. She decided that it was enough for her. If Luda was playing dirty, so would she. She assumed that the epitome of goodness and purity would also forget her sin and let her get away with it – like she always did before – but it turned out that things were different now. Maybe Luda grew up after all. “And you have to admit that it’s pretty childish to get so worked up about his words. He said the mere facts. I can’t do anything about the fact that we are different in so many ways. Like I’m outgoing or skinny and you’re not.”

The sentence was left hanging in the air for a moment. Luda would swear that she heard her heart breaking into dozens of pieces. She was already bleeding on the battlefield, why would Ara make things even more painful?

“I’ve had enough,” Luda mumbled under her nose hastily and rose from her seat but Ara emulated her reaction in an instant.

“I didn’t mean that you are fat. You are at a normal weight and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just that you always take it to heart when people comment on your appearance and I think you shouldn’t.”

Although it wasn’t meant to be rude, she felt like a bullet was sent to her heart. That’s what you wanted to hear, right? You are at a normal weight. But doesn’t normal equal fat? What do you think so? Doesn’t it sound like an insult to you? It was supposed to be a reassurance, so why do you think of it as something bad? Because you know she’s lying. She always did, you just pretended to believe them. After all, it’s still better to believe in lies than in nothing, right?

Luda needed a few moments to regain her composure and act as calm as possible. Her parents had always told her that it was better to remain composed even during arguments, so she tried her best to live up to their words.

“I don’t want to see you again,” Luda announced as she gritted her teeth in annoyance. She didn’t care that people took notice of her behaviour and threw looks at her. It wasn’t her who was the best guy in this story, and no matter how much her best friend wanted to make her stay by grabbing onto her wrist, she yanked her hand away from Ara’s. She really didn’t want to see her again.

When she stepped out of the busy place, the air felt suffocating. She felt like she was drowning and waves were crashing above her head. She couldn’t do anything to help her to the surface. She was already meters beneath the reality and she constantly got further and further away from help. Who was still there to save her?

I am here. And I will never leave your side. I promise that.

We’ve only just gotten started.

The days were slower and the nights were longer than Luda would have liked it. She was constantly in a war, both with the people in her life and both with her own feelings. 

Deep down, she could understand why Jaejun had dumped her to choose Miss Perfect Park Ara over her. Really, she could. Ara was the epitome of flawlessness; she was skinny and pretty, she had a great sense of humour, she was so talkative that she could easily chat with anyone for hours, not to mention her bubbly and free personality. Everyone seemed to like her, she pulled people closer like a magnet. She fancied going out, she was literally a social butterfly but her heart always belonged to those who were the closest to her. In a nutshell, she was perfect.

Compared to her, what was she? A waste of space, to say the least. She was never as outgoing as her best friend, she rather enjoyed quiet nights spent at home with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. She never considered herself funny, nor talkative. She wasn’t skinny either and to make matters worse, everyone made sure to emphasise that fact, too. She was certain that she wasn’t pretty and it didn’t even help when she replaced her glasses with contact lenses. Not to mention that she had tiny little freckles on her face and she had a scar on her chin which was still visible, even though she got it when she had been only 5. In a nutshell, she was the total opposite of Ara.

You were never enough. It’s time to change it. Now, you can be enough. Just lose some pounds and you’ll see it. You’ll feel better and people will like you. You will be more confident and you will start loving yourself. Trust me, I will help you.

She trusted that voice in her head. If she was able to prove herself that she was better than this, she would certainly be happier. After all, when someone is happy with herself, others will be happy when they are around her, right?

With that thought in mind, it wasn’t hard to make a change. She joined a gym near her flat and went there twice a week to do some fat-burning exercises. At university, she attended aerobics classes that she enjoyed whole-heartedly but she assumed that it wouldn’t be enough. Plus, those hours at the gym with sweating and pushing herself to her limits helped to distract her for a while. No more Jaejun, no more Ara. Just her mind and her body. The voice even encouraged her and it was kind of motivating. She did something for herself to help to move on and she truly enjoyed it. She took care of herself and her health, it was about nothing else at that time. She wanted to lose a couple of pounds but it was only an acceptable choice, not a life-threatening one.

It was after another exhausting session at the gym when she bumped into her handsome stranger again. She was sitting on the same bus, at the same spot, with different days behind her but with the same old feelings: hopelessness, loneliness and void. Although only two weeks passed, she was already trapped in a cage. Of course, without her or anyone else knowing. It was still a healthy way to approach heartbreak and major changes in life. It wasn’t an obsession. Not yet.

She was totally immersed into her thoughts when someone sat down beside her and started talking to her.

“Same bus, same time,” the voice called out and she had no choice but to turn her head to see who it was. Even without looking at him, she would have guessed that it was Jin, although they had met only once. He had a characteristically warm and soothing voice, she could easily identify it from thousands of other ones.

“Oh, Jin!” Luda’s eyes lit up brightly when their eyes met and Seokjin couldn’t even be happier. “It’s so good to see you. How are you?” she inquired curiously, her weariness from before totally disappearing thanks to the mere presence of the boy.

“I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” she stated with a radiant smile on her face. She felt so much better now that someone was beside her and that someone was Kim Seokjin himself. Last time, he had done so much for her, she wanted to properly thank him but didn’t have the chance since she had to get off before him. Now, it seemed that it was fate that they could meet again, therefore she didn’t want to let her chance slip away.

“Are you really okay?” Jin’s grin vanished in an instant and his expression became solemn again. His honey-like voice was laced with worry, his toffee-brown eyes filled with millions of shining stars, the ones that were her source of reassurance. They were sparkling, bathing in his affectionate and pouring her with love. Every time she looked into them, she felt like she was at a safe haven. He was her safe haven.

“Yes, really.” She nodded with an honest yet tired smile. During the last two weeks, she had been thinking a lot about her life and her choices – let it be her relationships, career goals and important milestones – and although she still wasn’t 100% over the break-up and the quarrel with Ara, she made a significant progress. 

“Are you sure?” Jin suspiciously raised an eyebrow at her and not even a hint of mockery was present in his diamond-like orbs. “You can tell me if something’s wrong,” he offered gently, making her wonder how a guy like him could be real.

He wasn’t her relative, nor a friend, he was basically a nobody to her. Yet, he still kept in mind that last time she had been under the weather and wanted to make sure that she was better now. Her heart leaped a bit thanks to his thoughtfulness.

“Yes, I’m totally sure.” Luda nodded more and more fervently until Jin finally seemed convinced. Then, she shook her head in disbelief but couldn’t hide a smile that was creeping onto her face. 

Seokjin was a literal angel for remembering the fact that she had been utterly devastated the last time they had met. Not all boys would act the same as him after such a first encounter but he was different. He didn’t even know that Jaejun had dumped her but he still offered to be her crying pillow. She couldn’t express how thankful she really was.

“But I couldn’t properly say thank you last time, so let me say it now.”

“No, no, you don’t have to,” the young man immediately cut her off but she would have lied if she had said that she wasn’t prepared for a similar reaction.

“No, really, I would like to say a massive thank you because you helped me a lot. I was going through a pretty hard time and you could cheer me up, so I’m really thankful,” Luda said it anyway because she was just too adamant to already give up. She was fed up with hiding her emotions and not saying out loud what she really wanted to say. After all, that was what partly led to her relationships falling apart. The other reason was that she was blind; she couldn’t see the signs in time. To be precise, she didn’t want to see the signs. “Is there a way that I can pay you back?”

“Oh no, you really don’t have to.” Jin shook his head. “I was happy that I could be there. It would have been a shame to let anyone sob silently in the back of the bus,” he casually confessed, making her totally baffled. She felt her cheeks heating up a bit and she would swear that her face was tinted pink, if not scarlet-red.

“Still, I feel like I have to thank you somehow,” she played the headstrong little girl who wouldn’t give up for the world but she really wanted to do something for him. Maybe they won’t meet again and she would feel just as ashamed as she did after they had first encountered. She had to seize the opportunity now. “I insist. Let me buy you a coffee or something. Then, you can leave me if you want but please, let me do it for you.”

She almost pleaded and Seokjin must have felt sorry for her because he gave in only a blink of an eye.

“Okay, I’m in. I can’t say no to such a great offer.” Jin clapped his hands in excitement and an enthusiastic grin was making its way onto his face. He was naturally attractive but when he smiled like that… oh no, Luda had a hard time keeping her composure in check. “One of my friends actually has a café just around the corner if you wish to give it a try,” he suggested and she couldn’t have anything against his idea. She mentally patted her shoulder because she had decided to take a bath at the gym’s bathroom before he bumped into Jin and didn’t want to get home to get changed. Now, it would be embarrassing to go out with her in her casual training clothes and sweaty body.

As there was really nothing that she could come up with, she gave him a thumbs-up and they headed to the café of Seokjin’s friend’s.

The Hope Café was a pretty, cosy place with lots of radiant colours, the walls decorated with breathtaking pictures from all around the world, classical jazz music playing in the background and grinning waiters and waitresses running back and forth.

At first, Luda was actually taken aback. It was nothing like the good old Starbucks with its highly modernised facilities, that typical green and brown interior design and annoyed stuff who were angry when someone wasn’t speaking loud enough. It was different yet refreshing. It felt a bit like home.

“Oh, Jin! You finally brought your girlfriend! How lovely!”

A joyful male voice hollered from behind the cash register and started walking towards them. He was a guy at around their age with average height, a casual, boy-next-door look and a happy vibe. She had never seen such a wide smile before, he smiled like he didn’t have any problems and everything was fine and unicorns still existed. He seemed so at ease.

Upon hearing his remark, she couldn’t cover up her bafflement. What? Did he just mention the word ‘girlfriend’? Oh no, he might have mistaken her for someone else! Even if it would mean that Seokjin had a girlfriend, she still wanted to clarify herself but Jin was faster than her.

“Actually, she’s not my girlfriend,” the young man explained with an apologetic smile while his friend pouted a bit, his smile wavering.

“You usually don’t bring girls here, so I thought that maybe, you finally got one for yourself,” he explained with sad puppy eyes but clapped his hands in the next moment. “Never mind, I’m happy that you decided to bring her here and I will make sure to keep her entertained.” He playfully winked at her, the russet-brown haired guy merely rolling his eyes in response. “I’m Jung Hoseok, by the way. I’m Jin’s friend and flatmate,” he turned to face Luda and offered a handshake. She took it without hesitation and made an attempt to give an introduction without making a fool out of herself.

“I’m Choi Luda. I’m−” she started speaking but closed her mouth shut when she realised that she had no idea how to define their relationship. They weren’t even friends, maybe not even acquaintances. But then, what were they?

“We met a few weeks ago on the bus when I tried to console her because she seriously looked like she needed company. Today, we also bumped into each other when we took the same bus and she wanted to thank me for what I had done last time, so she wanted to get me a coffee. Then, I mentioned visiting your café and she said yes.”

“You are at the best place for hot drinks, I can guarantee that!” Hoseok announced gleefully, making a casually passing by customer slightly jump in surprise. “We have the best ones in Seoul and we have such a wide range, I’m certain that your jaw will drop at the sight of our menu. Here, just take a look!” He shove a menu into her hands and while searching through all the drinks and snacks mentioned on the paper, Luda came to realise that Hoseok was right. 

They indeed had a wide range of goodies offered. They even had their own unique and quite creative names – like the hot chocolate made from white chocolate and topped with whipped cream and nuts called as the Lovely White Cloud or the triple-chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream called as the Chocolate Monster and his Sweet Vanilla – that she couldn’t help but boost a smile at such an extraordinary concept.

“So, what do you want?” Hoseok inquired after a minute or so of her examining the menu, the tiny voice in her head reminding her of the calories in those sweet desserts and drinks.

You need to work out tomorrow to compensate for your little cheating. Even though it’s only once in a while, you still can’t let go of control. You just can’t. If you do, you know you will be more miserable. If you hadn’t let things go in their way, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this horrible situation. Not letting go of control is the key.

“Ladies first!” Seokjin immediately flashed a smile and looked at her patiently, although she assumed that he had already tried all of the different variations since it was his friend’s café.

“Then, I would like to have a cup of Caramel Dream with the Strawberry&Lemon Rendez-vous,” she decided, trying to shake the unwanted thoughts off and focusing on the present instead of worrying about what would happen to her body if she drank and ate all she had ordered before.

A moment later, Jin also gave his order, and so Hoseok disappeared like he hadn’t even been there in the first place and they sat down at a window-table. Seokjin was a real gentleman, not only did he help her with her coat and put both of their clothes on the coat rack but he also pulled out her chair before seating himself. And they weren’t even in a fancy restaurant but a cosy café!

“Hoseok seems like a nice guy,” Luda commented after thanking him for his kindness because she was still taken aback by the fact that Jung Hoseok was literally a ray of sunshine. She had never met anyone like him before.

“He’s a great guy. Small wonder he’s my friend.”

“How did you two meet?” she asked curiously, resting her elbows on the table and chin in her hands. The russet-brown haired guy was more than happy to answer her question and slowly, without them realising, their conversation went on and on. 

As time went by, it wasn’t a nervous tip-toeing anymore and they didn’t only talk about the cliché topics that people bring up on their second encounter. But of course, they talked about hobbies, friends, family and studies as well. Luda’s jaw dropped when she actually learned that Seokjin was studying Art History and he wished to be either a curator or a teacher. In his free time, he loved to do sketches and little drawings but he made sure to let her know that he wasn’t good, he merely enjoyed it. She asked him to let her see at least one of his works and she whined until he didn’t give in.

The more they talked, the better she could suppress that little voice in her head. At first, it was screaming at her when her strawberry-lemon cheesecake and caramel-flavoured hot chocolate arrived but she ignored it. She had such a fun time with Seokjin that she totally forgot about the voice’s warning and she could fully enjoy herself. The guy was a fun and lovable companion, she laughed so much and it was for real. She didn’t have to force a smile, neither pretend to be interested because she was obviously interested. There was still so much she wanted to know about him!

Sadly, the hours flew by so quickly that it was already time to go home. Seokjin insisted on taking her home but she needed to do some grocery shopping, so she had to say no to his offer.

“Maybe next time,” she tried to cheer him up with a reassuring smile as they were walking down the streets to his bus stop. The stars in the boy’s toffee-brown eyes immediately lit up.

“So, is there a next time?” He raised his eyebrows in question, his tone a bit cautious. Luda tried her best to hide her embarrassment because she didn’t intend to be obvious, the words just slipped out of her mouth. Nevertheless, there was no use of crying over spilled milk, the words already said out loud.

“I guess.”

“Great!” Seokjin slightly jumped in delight and his adorable reaction triggered a joyful laugh from her, quietly leaving her rosy-coloured lips. “How about next Friday?” he inquired excitedly. She was pretty sure that she didn’t have anything scheduled for next Friday, so she agreed but they exchanged numbers just to make sure.

“Then, I’ll see you next Friday,” Seokjin waved as he was hopping on the bus and Luda happily waved back.

“Next Friday,” she repeated and watched as his bus was getting further and further away. As a goodbye present, she got another flying kiss from him. From that moment on, he couldn’t stop smiling until her way back to her flat.

The good feelings went away quickly, and no matter how hard Luda tried, she couldn’t forget about that piece of cake and that hot chocolate. She thought that she shouldn’t have let herself indulge in treats like this because if she did so once, then how many would follow? When would she be able to stop? Maybe others could do it, but she couldn’t. She needed to take control over her life, she needed to take control over herself or else the world would take control over her, and she would never ever let that happen again.

So she listened to the voice in her head, telling her to cut back here and there, her grocery list reducing when she next went to buy food for herself and her thoughts more and more occupied with food and exercising and calories. She started tracking the calories she consumed - both edible and drinkable forms -, so that it could give her a sense of control, so that she could feel like she could monitor what was going on in her life.

It did actually give her a sense of satisfaction, to know exactly what and how much she consumed, and she felt happy, content, joyful even because she thought that it could work. The voice in her head prompted her, motivated her to keep going, so eventually when she went to meet Jin the next Friday, she only drank a cup of hot tea, telling him that she had eaten before, so she was fine. He seemed to believe her, and it was just so easy to get away with it, she felt almost thrilled.

Besides, Jin was a lovely guy. He was very understanding, had a sense of humour she had definitely needed since her break-up and drifting apart from Ara too, and he always had such funny stories to tell, it was insane. She listened to his stories attentively, genuinely smiling and laughing along with him, the fact that she was skipping out on her lunch long forgotten. He was a good company, he could even make her forget about not eating, and it was alright.

She couldn’t quite know what to expect from that encounter though because she wasn’t sure that she could be interesting enough for Jin, so that he would want to meet her again, but eventually, he did so, and they agreed that they would meet again next time when both of their schedules would allow them to do so. As both of them were diligent university students at different universities and having different majors, they were bound to have clashing schedules, but they made it work and stayed in contact through messaging each other.

She had to admit that his food pictures were a bit triggering though, but she tried to go with usual lines such as ‘looks good’ and ‘hope you enjoy your food’ instead of commenting what they contained and how much calories he would consume by eating those. Eventually, she found herself looking up labels for the ingredients and nutrition lists and she looked up countless websites, searching for the best possible combinations of food that could help her by eating less.

Apart from going to the gym, looking up such facts took up most of her time, so she didn’t have more time to spend on her hobbies because she needed to study as well and work on assignments. She didn’t care though; as long as she could make sure that she was aware what she was doing to her body, it would be alright. It would be just a phase anyway, right?

The voice didn’t leave her. In fact, it became stronger and stronger as time went by, becoming her only friend after Ara had messed up their friendship so badly. Luda couldn’t tell whether she was glad or disappointed that the other girl didn’t even try to contact her after she had told her that she wouldn’t want to see her again, but it was how it was nevertheless, and losing a childhood best friend so abruptly definitely had its impact on her. She started feeling suffocated around strangers, always seeking out what flaws they could point out in her, and always questioning their motives. She didn’t want to fall into the same trap she had done so with Ara and Jaejun, but it meant that she didn’t even want to let anyone close to her. At least, not so soon.

The seed of doubt had been planted in her when it came to Jin as well, but they had already agreed on a time and a place for their next encounter, so she didn’t want to let him down, and she wanted to see if it would work out with her situation because Jin was really a great guy, and she couldn’t help but think that he was being genuine whenever he was around her, but she couldn’t tell anymore. She had thought the same about Ara and Jaejun as well, and look where she ended up at.

However, meeting Jin was really like the highlight of her day and the weeks behind her, the constant anxiousness and doubtful thoughts burying her joy and making her wary of meeting others. Though with Jin, it was almost easy to forget about her hardships because they could talk about so many things including her not so good relationship with her parents, the perks of sharing his flat with someone else, his newfound love for cooking or even just the bookstores she liked visiting in Seoul. They didn’t talk only about university, and it made her feel like so much more than just someone who wanted to be a straight A student to prove everyone that she was worthy and that she was a good person.

On the other hand, he picked up the fact that she hadn’t ordered any food, only a glass of still water and inquired the reason behind it. Luda tried to put on her best, most convincing smile when she spoke up.

“I’m not hungry.” She shook her head, lying, so that he wouldn’t ask about her way of eating. He probably wouldn’t understand anyway. It was just her and the voice. They were the ones knowing what it was about.

“Are you okay?” Jin kept insisting though, his mesmerizing, toffee-brown eyes searching for confirmation in her own orbs. She almost felt bad for telling him a fib when he looked like that. When he looked like he really cared about her. “You look a bit pale and sick. Are you coming down with something?” he inquired gently, even lowering his voice as if it could be a secret, but she just shrugged off his question. She had lost weight, but it was alright. She was doing well, she thought that she was the healthiest she had ever been.

“Oh, it’s just usual uni stress,” she reasoned casually, and while it was partly true, it was also partly a lie. The university workload did contribute to her perfectionism acting up even more, but she was managing well so far, she had performed really well on her tests and presentations so far, so she got it. But it needed to stay the same, so that she would feel okay.

“Okay, then. Let me know though if anything’s up. I may not be as good of a listener as my psychologist friend, but I’m here to listen if it’s about anything,” Jin chattered, his shoulders slumping in ease. He probably believed her words from the way he looked back at her, and even though she was thankful, she didn’t know if it was a good thing.

So even if he emptied his plate and mug and she left the empty glass of the still water on the table, he didn’t seem to want to pressure the topic anymore, and she was glad. She almost felt like as if she had been caught when she hadn’t been doing anything wrong in the first place.

Or at least, she didn’t think so, and that was the worst out of all; that she was no longer herself and she was no longer able to tell what was good and bad for her.

Weeks went by and then a month and then another month, and Luda found herself finding excuses to meet Jin because even just the thought of going out and feeling the pressure to eat the foods with unknown calories scared her so much that she would not only stick to her own safe foods that she knew the calories of, but she wouldn’t go to her favourite bakery either or go to group work meetings when it took place at a bar or restaurant, and she wouldn’t go out and eat because food was there, and she needed to know what and when and how much she would eat, so she could keep track of it alongside her weight.

It slowly became like a habit; weighing herself in the morning and at night, and sometimes during the day when she felt like she needed to and the voice prompted her to do so. She always had a mixed reaction whenever she saw the numbers on the scale because she might have been losing weight, but she never felt like it was enough or it was good. If it went up, then she would cut back even more, but even if the number went down, she would cut back as well. Because it was kind of satisfying to see how her efforts paid off, and how she really got it under control. She might not be able to control anything else from her own family to her ex-boyfriend or best friend, but she could control this. And it felt good.

The more time passed, the less she could exercise though because after failing a test, something in her broke, and she decided to spend the time in the gym on studying, so that she wouldn’t fall behind and end with a bad grade. She couldn’t afford to do so, she just couldn’t! She was a straight A student! What would her parents think? Would they compare her to Ara again? Would they compare her to her little sister again? What would her teachers think? She was better than this, she was so much better.

So having more time to spend on studying, she actually had more time to think about food because it really became constant; thinking about what and when and how much to eat. It was always going through her head, reminding her of her goals, and when she felt hungry between her planned meal times, she tried to suppress her hunger by drinking huge amounts of water or chewing bubble gums.

What was interesting though that now that Jin couldn’t even see her, it was only her flatmate - Inna - who could see her from time to time and inquire about her well-being. Though after listening to her worrying questions twice, Luda started hiding her body in baggy clothes, so that no one could see if she had gained or lost weight, only her and that ugly, judging mirror in her room that laughed at her every single night when all she could still see was fat. Would it ever be enough? The image looking back from the mirror?

As much as Inna was kind, Luda couldn’t appreciate her acts, not anymore.

“Look what I’ve found in the store today!” Inna announced as she entered their flat and Luda was just passing by with a glass of water in her hands. Again. She didn’t know anymore how much she had already drank, but probably not enough for the way she could still not suppress her hunger.

The girl then proceeded to show her the little bottled liquid with a wide smile.

“Your favourite brand! I know you’ve said a while ago that you couldn’t find it, but now I found it at this corner store not far from my uni,” Inna explained beamingly, and she reached out the bottle to Luda, watching as she hesitantly took it.

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have done so,” she remarked with a forced smile. She wanted to tell her that she wouldn’t drink the chocolate milk anyway because it wouldn’t fit into her daily calories and food rules, but Inna’s wide smile stopped her from saying anything like that.

“Oh come on! You immediately came to my mind when I saw this, so drink it well!” Her flatmate suggested kindly before disappearing into the kitchen to pack out the other groceries she had gotten from the store.

Luda looked at the bottle in her hands, her heart wanting to drink it so desperately and her stomach even grumbling at the sight, but she couldn’t do it, not when the voice said otherwise. It wasn’t part of her plans, she couldn’t consume it, it would mess up everything, and then she would be out of control yet again. She couldn’t do so. Not anymore.

So she retreated into her room, closed the door behind her and put the glass of water on her table and threw the bottle of choco milk into her trash bin. She had to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Winter arrived quickly and with that, the snowy and windy weather became more and more prominent, forcing Luda to dress as warmly as possible, but the cold didn’t seem to go away. No matter how many layers she wore or if she had the heat on or not, she was cold. Always. Looking down at her bluish fingers and the remains of bloody patches reminding her of how the skin had come off there before, she told herself that it must have been because it was a particularly extreme winter, and she had always been a bit sensitive to cold, so maybe it was just worse this time.

She could put up with it, she tried to do so. The voice told her that she was strong enough for that, so she pulled through, applied body lotion and hand creams ever so frequently, but they didn’t seem to help a lot. Not as much as she had thought so, but it was fine, she reassured herself, hoping for the winter season to go away quickly.

Soon, the cold didn’t seem that outstanding anymore. It had become a part of her very much long and very much uneventful days. The same happened day by day; going to lectures, studying, measuring food, writing down calories, stepping on the scale to weigh herself, drinking excessive amount of water to suppress her hunger, and waiting for the day to end, so that she could go to sleep even if it meant tossing and turning in bed most of the time. She sometimes woke up in the middle of the night, feeling ravenous, and she sometimes couldn’t even close her eyes. The daylight had become just as much of a nightmare as her nights, sheddings of hair on her pillow welcoming her every single morning.

She convinced herself though that she was doing okay, she was exercising well despite being more and more out of breath whenever she wanted to exercise or even just walking the stairs, and she was eating foods that were said to be healthy, she just controlled what she ate. She didn’t care how much she needed to lie or how many occasions she needed to turn down if it meant that she could stick to her own routine and be in control of her actions.

Seokjin also inquired if she wanted to meet up before Christmas, and Luda didn’t know why, but she was so frustrated at how he still tried to cling onto her. She couldn’t get it, he was just too good and too perfect for her, why would someone like him want to spend time with someone like her?

“Sorry. I haven’t told you, but the day you met me, I was crying because my boyfriend  broke up with me. I need time and space to move on and focus on myself. Please, understand.”

It was her way of saying that she had no idea why he would want to meet her again and to separate him from herself because that wouldn’t end well anyway. She didn’t trust others as much as before, but she didn’t know if she could even trust herself anymore. What had changed though? Life had been so cruel to her, she had it altogether, and then everything had fallen apart.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Of course, I’ll let you have your space and time. You can reach out to me anytime you want to though. I’m here if you just need someone to talk to,” said Jin through a message, and no matter how kind it seemed, Luda didn’t want to reply to it anymore. She just wanted to put everything in the past, and live day by day, obeying the rules of the voice in her head.

Inna was the only one who seemed genuinely worried about her, and who asked if she was feeling okay, but Luda had already become accustomed to lying people and convincing them that she was already over Jaejun and doing well. She was eating, she said, it was just the stress, she said. She couldn’t tell them how overwhelming it was if she couldn’t do what the voice told her to do so, how much she felt out of control. She couldn’t, she couldn’t let it happen again. She couldn’t disappoint others and herself. She needed to be strong.

However, with her semester over and the excuse to go home during the short winter break, she was almost obligated to go home between her semesters, and she couldn’t have been more frustrated.

She had never been on good terms with her family, they had always expected so much of her and belittled her efforts, and no matter how much she tried to live up to their expectations, she had never gotten genuine feedback. It was expected of you, her parents said, show a good example to your little sister, they said. When she had messed up something (anything), then came the questions why and how it could have happened.  

She always looked up to her parents and she was always grateful for what they had given her, but they had never been there for her emotionally, and she felt so alone even if they were around her. She had always tried to deny it, telling everyone just how much of a loving family she had, but they had never really listened to her, all the attention went to her little sister, and she was just expected to do well.

So to be controlled by them in another way - them telling her what to eat -, she felt out of control again, and it showed. She barely left her room saying that she needed to take care of something for her next semester which was a blatant lie, but they wouldn’t care anyway as long as she had gotten good grades and they could show her off as an example of their perfect parenting.

Only meal times were a struggle this way, but they were literal hell. She didn’t eat carbs, so she left out the side dishes and noodles they had prepared and indeed opted for the vegetables and other garnishes, hoping that they wouldn’t notice, having perfectly mastered the art of cutting her food into little pieces, drinking a lot between bites and eating slowly, so that it would seem like she took a long time to eat because she had eaten a lot. Usually, it had worked.

However, this time, her mother couldn’t let it go.

“Why are you picking on your food?” The woman looked at her after basically monitoring what she had been doing, just because she had no other topic to focus on because Luda’s little sister wasn’t talkative this time either. She was preparing for her senior year exams diligently, and the closer the date was, the more after school activities she had, so she was more tired than usually.

Luda took in a deep breath and answered without even thinking of telling them the truth. The lie slipped through as easily as if it would have been the truth. She almost believed it herself.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Is it because of Jaejun? Do you want to appeal to him by not eating?” Her father asked firmly, making her furrow her eyebrows in question. Really? That was the first question he could have asked? Doing it to appeal to a boy? Her ex-boyfriend out of all? It had already been difficult for her to tell her family the truth, but to take advantage of her honesty this way?

“Do you think I’m that kind of girl?” Luda scoffed, her voice raised due to the frustration that was slowly building up from the inside, yet her mother was ever so quick to tell her off for raising her voice at his father.

“Luda! It was just a simple question,” she tried to reason, giving her daughter a side-glance that she took with a frown. It had always been like this; if they threw offensive remarks at her and she told her own opinion or dared to show her feelings, they would get defensive and blame her for hurting them or blame her for overreacting. On the other hand, if she tried to play it save, suddenly she was ungrateful and neutral. She had never been enough. Never.

“No, I don’t want to appeal to him or anyone,” Luda said, but what she really wanted to say was that she just wanted to have control over her life. They wouldn’t understand that though. Every single time she had been just a tiny bit sad or disappointed, they had told her to cheer up and just relax. They had never been there to listen to her worries unlike they had done so with her little sister. Because her little sister had always cried to get their attention, and it had been enough for them to listen to her. 

“You aren’t eating dinner either, mom,” Luda pointed out with an edge to her words, but her mother shrugged it off. Like everything.

“I heard it’s not good for the body,” she reasoned, almost as obviously lying as one could be, but everyone seemed to drop the topic for her mother’s sake because they knew she had never been confident in her body, and started asking Luda about her studies instead.

It was always like this; if there was nothing else to talk about, came her studies. Not the way she was feeling, not how scared or happy or content she was with how the semester had gone or if she had been looking forward to the next one. It had always been about those results and classes excluding her emotions, and that hurt the most. It felt like silently screaming whenever she was beside them and didn’t say a thing about what was going on inside.

That dinner went by horribly slowly, but even that was better than when her little sister had pointed out her weight loss when she had accidentally opened the door on Luda when she had been in the bathroom and told their parents, her mother’s only comment being:

“I wish I could have your will-power,” she mentioned almost in awe, and in that moment, Luda understood that they would never get it. Never.

Even those few days she had spent at home had been enough to make her restrict even more and compensate for eating with her family and eating those foods she hadn’t been familiar with. Going back to weighing herself and tracking her calories were more crucial than ever before, and with the new semester starting, it became like a project to her to keep pushing, to keep up with it.

She didn’t care that she isolated herself from people, she didn’t care that she was always feeling cold despite winter turning into spring and spring turning into summer, having trouble sleeping, having a huge set of rigid rules when it came to foods and she was obsessively trying to follow those, she didn’t care her period hadn’t come for months, she didn’t care her hair was falling out, her nails were brittle, her skin was dry and bloody patches covered the surface because she convinced herself that she was the healthiest she had ever been. She didn’t care about the symptoms even if they were there because she thought that they were just temporary and had nothing to do with the way she was eating.

She kept going with whatever the voice wanted from her even though it didn’t feel like a friend anymore. If anything, it was an abusive one. An authoritative one. Nothing was ever enough for the voice either, but then again, when had she been ever enough for people? That voice was just another voice she couldn’t please, so she kept trying and trying until that voice seemed to have won.

Luda didn’t know how it happened, once she felt a bit dizzy while walking from her room to the bathroom and she felt her legs going weak and darkness embracing her and then the next thing she saw was light and blinding lamps, white walls and a doctor in a gown beside her. He kept asking her questions after saying that her pulse was dangerously low, and whenever she didn’t want to answer, Inna was there to answer what she knew of.

Luda kind of figured out that she must have fainted and it had been Inna who had called the ambulance, but she didn’t understand why was she still there, so she let Inna speak, and when the food topic came up, Luda was quick to protest.

“No, I eat, really. I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been,” she tried to reason, but the doctor shook his head.

“A lot of eating disorder patients say so and end up in a hospital because they fainted from the lack of food,” he enlightened her firmly, his words truly shaking her. She glanced at Inna as well, but she only gave her a bitter smile in return. Did she believe the doctor’s words? “Eating disorders are deadly, and with your pulse, it’s a surprise you have never fainted, and it’s a miracle that your heart is still beating,” the man added neutrally, and if anything, this kind of information shook her to the core even more.

Luda tried to process what she had heard, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t accept it. It was ridiculous. She was alive and well, wasn’t she? She was doing well, she was eating, her heart was still beating, why would she die? Why would her pulse be low? But then again, why did she feel so ashamed? As if a secret of hers had been revealed? This complexity was giving her a headache, a painful one, a really painful one. She felt like she was splitted between the voice in her head and her own voice. It was the first time she felt like this ever since that voice had been born.

“No, I don’t have an eating disorder.” She shook her head fervently, that voice in her head screaming, yelling angrily at her for ever getting there, for ever getting a doctor question what she was doing. It was angry this time, and even though it had become more and more angry lately, Luda had never felt so afraid and so ashamed at the same time. Could they… could they be right?

“I’m fine,” she continued repeating herself until the tears started flooding and she had no more strength to obey the voice, letting Inna give her a hug and tell her that she would be there for her. The voice continued screaming and blaming and pointing its finger at her, making her cry out loud even more.

She lost, she knew it. The voice had always been stronger than her, and she had lost against it.

In fact, she had been losing ever since it had been born.

Everything happened so fast after the realization; a proper eating disorder specialist was assigned to her at the hospital, they ran some more health checks on her and gave her the diagnosis with guidelines for outpatient care because otherwise she would need to go inpatient and no matter what, she felt like she couldn’t give up on her studies. She was given nutritional advice and a meal plan, she was given a psychologist’s contact as well, her first appointment already settled, and by the time she left the hospital, she felt so weak and exhausted that she just wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t.

Inna was there to remind her that she should eat, and despite the fact that it was extremely difficult with that voice in her head screaming at her, she realized that she didn’t want to die. No. It had never been about wanting to die although by the end she had really felt like dying, she just wouldn’t admit it. She had felt so alone, and at least that voice had been there for her to comfort her, and it had really felt like it had become a friend. Until it hadn’t.

But no, she didn’t want to die. She might not have had a loving family or lots of friends or anything, but she still had dreams and things she wanted to accomplish, and just the thought of dying… it scared her. It scared her more than she would admit, so even if she was eating through tears, she did eat dinner that night, followed by a night of reading upon eating disorders and hers specifically - anorexia nervosa.

She indeed found articles about anorexia sufferers dying from their symptoms because their organs had stopped working properly and their hearts had stopped. It was so terrifying that Luda found herself crying again; a constant reaction ever since she had been told that she might have an eating disorder, and she had to realize that she had been holding back these tears all these time. She had never once cried ever since her break-up with Jaejun almost a year before, and it had come back all at once. She had convinced herself that she was fine and that she was doing well when really, she had never been sicker in her life, and people hadn’t even noticed. Her mother had even said that she had wished she could have her will-power, one horrible family encounter following another horrible one after that specific time.

She cried herself to sleep that night, hating the fact that things had gotten so out of control when she had been so convinced that she had been in control of her life, and hating herself, her life and that fucking voice in her head that made her feel like she couldn’t stop, but at least, she now knew that it was a problem, and if she wanted to live, she had to go against that voice.

Oh, how she wished it would have been that easy to just think that she could do it and then do it, but no. The first few days were okay, but then came the guilt and then restricting again, and then came the guilt for not eating well and then the cycle went on, eventually interrupted by the therapy sessions that did seem to help actually. At first, she was so damn scared to speak up and she just wanted to shrug it off, saying that she was doing better, she didn’t need help, but then the psychologist asked about her feelings, her real feelings, she asked about her relationships and family and childhood memories, and Luda once again had to realize that she had been deceiving herself all along.

That she had indeed never had the emotional support she had needed when she had been growing up, and that it showed in her low self-esteem, self-hatred and distorted body image. That she had always tried to suppress her feelings even when her boyfriend had dumped her and when her best friend hadn’t even wanted to confess to what had happened with Jaejun. She had tried so hard to always put others first that she had lost herself all along, her feelings buried under the pressure and her need to please others and to not hurt them, yet again triggered by what her parents had taught her, especially in relation to her younger sister.

Then again, that comparison with her younger sister and Luda not being the favourite child also came to surface, and she had never cried more than during that specific therapy session, finally seeing the situation for what it was and not just brushing it off, saying that it didn’t hurt her. Because it did, it always did. She just didn’t want to seem like an ungrateful child because she got a roof above her head, her parents paid for her tuition fees and they were doing well financially, so she couldn't have complained about those, but the emotional part… It had been lacking all along, and no matter how much she yearned for it, no matter how much she had tried to please her parents, she had always been pushed to the side as the second child.

“Eating disorders can manifest in many forms, but a lot of patients are actually silently struggling and yearning for love, acceptance and control, the people around them just wouldn’t notice or understand,” her psychologist told her when Luda apologized for crying, and the middle-aged woman tried to do everything in her power to make her feel better by telling her that it was okay to cry and what she was feeling was completely understandable.

“They never noticed. My mom even said that she wished she could have my will-power,” she admitted between sobs, getting the words out feeling a bit deliberating. She had never dared to say anything bad about her parents to others, but it felt like a wall had been broken down, and then many others followed.

The interesting thing about therapy was that after a while, Luda started getting more and more memories back as they were talking about certain topics, and it was odd, but her psychologist told her that those were the so-called repressed memories that might have been buried in the back of her mind because of the idea that her parents were perfect and that they had always been there for her when in reality they hadn’t been and these memories unlocked some hidden parts of her mind and of her hurt. Therefore, coming to terms with such situations definitely helped her to move on with her recovery, and therapy seemed useful.

Although just like with everything, there were always good and bad ones. In the beginning, there were a lot more bad days than good days, but it was because she knew that what she had been doing was wrong, and she hadn’t known before how to go against the voice, so she needed to learn it now. Not suppressing her emotions was also difficult because it was emotionally very much draining to realize just how many emotions she could feel and how overwhelming they could be.

Inna also became a great support to her, and even though Luda needed to be the one to save herself, she needed to be the one to pick up the food and eat it and deal with the emotions afterwards, having someone who had seen her at the worst, yet stayed by her side and tried to understand her was so reassuring because she knew she wasn’t alone.

“You know, I may not understand what you are going through, but anorexia is a serious mental illness, and it’s not an extreme diet like others say. So really, I’m so proud of you, and I’m always here if you need someone. Never ever think that you’re a burden,” Inna told her once when Luda was doubting why she had stayed by her side, and she gave her a thankful smile in return, but it wasn’t enough to show her gratitude. But she was trying. “I’m glad to see you smile again,” she added with a smile herself, and even though this wasn’t even a compliment, Luda felt like it was, and she felt almost teary hearing her words.

Some people seemed to be able to get why even smiling was a big thing.

Many relapses happened afterwards, and it didn’t help either that Luda’s parents didn’t think that it was more than an extreme diet and kept asking about her weight and kept telling her not to go to therapy because she didn’t have big enough of a problem, but she couldn’t care anymore. She put herself first and still pulled through with it because she knew how much she needed any help she could get and she knew it was about so much more than just food.

However, there was one person who actually came back into her life, and she was taken aback when she received a message from him, but when Jin asked if she was doing well, she found herself telling him about her mental health struggles, and told him that if he could wait a bit more, she would come out of it better Then, as someone who had a psychologist friend, Jin tried his best to support her even through messages, and eventually, they met up at the Hope Café again after Jin had asked her dozens of times if it was alright for her to eat out and whether she would feel uncomfortable.

She did feel a bit uncomfortable, but she knew that if she didn’t give it a try, the voice would win, and she didn’t want that, so she gritted her teeth, met the young man and let herself be fully concentrated on what he said instead of what she was eating.

“I’ve tried to ask my friend and look up what to say to someone with an eating disorder when they are eating, so I just want to say I’m really proud of you, every bite must be difficult for you, yet you are here, and you keep trying. That must require such strength and bravery on your part. You are the real fighter here,” Jin mentioned totally seriously, and Luda found herself absolutely speechless.

It was one thing that Inna who had taken her to the hospital after her fainting said similar things, but someone from whom she had isolated herself, someone who could have easily forgotten about her and someone who had never been forced to ask his psychologist friend or look up what eating disorders were about did so… It was truly heartwarming.

“Thank you, Jin. Really. I-I…” She tried to find the words to say, but she had no idea if words could portray what she was feeling. “Not everyone would take the time to look up such things, so I’m more than thankful.”

It might not have been easy to be around him and to believe that he was genuine, but she tried her best, and the more time passed, the more she realized that he was as genuine and understanding as one could be. Opening up to someone was always difficult, even more so with her struggles, but as time went by, she realized that it wasn’t a weakness to lean on others and others didn’t find her a burden when she was talking about her worries and hardships, and that some people would really just be there for her even if they weren’t family.

Though not until she actually learned to love herself, could she believe that others could love her, but after that, it became a bit easier to be around people and to be in her own skin. She also had to realize that life couldn’t be measured in numbers or expectations or others’ opinions or academic achievements, but in smiles, laughter, dreams, hopes and in the genuine love of people who were there for her including herself.

[scrappydooisfoundaliveinnebraska]

Nobody Had to Die: [Batman The Brave and Bold Fanfic]

            To me, the saddest thing about ‘Mitefall’ isn’t that the show got cancelled.  The saddest thing was that nobody had to die. 

            “POWER TO THE PUPPY!” Punchichi yells.

            Bat-Mite giggles. “Sound familiar?” 

            He’s not talking to me. He doesn’t know that I’m here, yet. He’s just doing it for himself.

            All the same, I answer him.            

            “It does,” I admit softly.

              I’ve been watching this episode, and the more I watch it, the more unsettled I get.  

            And not for reasons that Bat-Mite seems to expect.  

            And I’ve finally had enough.

            He’s not exactly unhappy to see me. He��s having too much of a blast to be bubble-burst that easily. 

            “Hello, stranger!” He says. “I don’t remember creating you! Are you Punchichi’s hip new babysitter?! Cousin Olive to his Cousin Oliver?!” 

            I don’t react for a moment.

            Then I take a step forward. 

            Bat-Mite, intimidated, tries to zap away, only to find he can’t. 

            He is a reality warper, but I am the narrator. 

            I have the high ground. 

            He can’t escape. 

            We have to settle this.

            “I remember Cousin Oliver,” I snap, as he stares at me, helpless with shock. “I remember learning his story when I was searching for Punchichi’s doppelganger,”

“And don’t tell me. You’re the one fan of him, a loon to be taken down. Well, I’m feeling merciful today, so allow me to teach you a little lesson.” 

He snaps his fingers, and a small boy appears.  The child is clearly very young, and he’s definitely from an era long past-with his long, pale blonde hair and bangs, and his round spectacles, he looks like a baby John Lennon, a figure that I’m a bit more familiar with thanks to my father’s musical taste.

“Welcome to the Cousin Oliver show!” He chirps at me. “Want to watch me forever?”

“Are you OK?” I ask him quietly. 

Bat-Mite clearly expected either over the top cheering or over the top disgust, not quiet sympathy. 

As a result of his surprise, Oliver spasms, and his round face is filled with pain. 

“Do you really expect me to demonize this child?” I ask Bat-Mite. “He’s only eight.”

“Nobody knows, nobody cares,” Bat-Mite sings.

I step closer to Oliver, my hands stretched out to shield him from any horrible plan Bat-Mite has for him. 

Oliver, for his part, just stares  into space, grinning hugely. 

My heart twists. It’s not right. 

Bat-Mite rolls his eyes at my emotion. “Oh, still going all sympy-wympy on Cousin Oliver, are we?!” He grins like a loon. “Well then! now you can be stuck with him forever!”

I feel chains clasp around my wrists and ankles, as Bat-Mite forces my body into my chair. Less than a foot away, on a stage, is Oliver, but he’s changed.

Oliver’s face distorts and he begins to grow more deformed. He begins to sing about 

Throwing money at the corporate executives. He’s on the part about money when I lift my hand a bit. 

“Bat-Mite?”

“Yeah?” He snickers.

“Can you lengthen the chains on my arm a bit? And bring Oliver closer to me.”

Bat-Mite smirks. He thinks he knows what I’m going to do.

“Oliver! Your audience has a surprise for you!” 

Oliver makes a noise that sounds like a dying bear and a lunatic before shambling to me.

I do something he doesn’t expect.

I place my hand on his shoulder. I was supposed to just watch him. Or, as Bat-Mite appears to hoped, punch him in the face.

He looks at me in surprise, but he doesn’t shake away my touch.

“I never knew Cousin Oliver.” I whisper. “I was born long after he was gone.”

“Well, if you think that we were wrong about him,” Bat-Mite cackles from somewhere nearby, “Then you’re in for a surprise!” 

If he expected me to cringe and back away in fear, he’s dreadfully mistaken. I stand my ground and close my eyes.

“I don’t know much about the brady bunch, Oliver,” I whisper. “But I know that it was about a family of ordinary people. And I know that family is always changing. You’re just an ordinary kid, aren’t you, Oliver?”

Oliver nods quietly. He begins to return to himself, as he truly was.

The bubble bursts. I always had the power to escape, but that would mean leaving Oliver with his tormentor, which is unacceptable. 

Oliver looks dazed, but his eerie robotic effect is gone. The ordinary little boy I knew he was is here. 

Oliver looks around. “Wh-where am I?!”

“Oliver,” I say softly, trying to get his attention.

He squirms back. 

“Ahh! Stranger Danger! Who are you?!” He screams, as he looks around at 2011

Malibu, as far from a fifties suburb as they come.

The eight year old boy begins to sob in confusion, as only eight year old children can.

I kneel down infront of him.

  “I can help you,” I explain. I’m vaguely aware of Bat-Mite dropping a hydrogen bomb on us, but without even turning around, I turn it into a pomegranate  and chuck it into the ocean.  

“I want my mommy,” He whimpers. 

“Ssshhhh,” I whisper. “Don’t worry. Just let me help you,”

“Take me to mommy,”

“Soon,” I answer, as soothingly as I can. “Soon, kid. Don’t worry.”

He buries his head into my stomach. I think about how much of an ordinary child he is, how he was always intended to be, regardless of the show or where or when he was added. I think about how much I want to protect him. 

A bubble forms around him. “Trust me, OK?” I say. He nods. Between me and Bat-Mite, there is little conflict in his choice.

With Oliver safe for the time being, I turn back to Bat-Mite, who is just in the middle 

of preparing to slam a chainsaw on my head. Since I’m really sick of this, I just poof it away

without ceremony.

“BATMITE! You have to stop this, NOW!” I yell. “I may not know Oliver enough to be a fan of him, but I know from the bottom of my heart that I am NOT a fan of murdering innocent children because some immature adults decided to blame them for everything they went wrong! Oliver Tyler died in a car-crash,” (I make sure the bubble around Oliver becomes soundproof, so he doesn’t have to hear) “And that nobody saved him because of you!  You turned his family against him! People like you ostracised him! A little boy! Introduced in the middle of a season with the fate of the show set!”

“They weren’t his family! He wasn’t real!”

“If he’s NOT REAL, THEN WHY DOES HIS PAINFUl, LONELY DEMISE MATTER SO MUCH TO YOU!?”

Bat-Mite just stares at me. He’s completely at a loss. 

I finally have him on the ropes.  But I can’t rest now. I have to drive it home, before he bounces back. 

“If they weren’t his family, then how do you know that Batman is your hero?” I say. “You’re a fictional character too.”

“That’s different! I am a well accepted part of the canon!”

“Well, even if he’s not, he looks, talks, and acts like a kid to me,” I say, pointing at him. “I could argue that Batman is secretly just a loon in a mental hospital and that every single story is just through his eyes of madness. Would that become the truth, if everyone believed it?”

“NOBODY WOULD BELIEVE IT!!!” Bat-Mite screams at me. “DESECRATOR!”

“How do you know that Batman isn’t just a man with a wonderful wife and daughter who he loves, and that this cold world where children and young women being murdered is celebrated-”

“THEY’RE NOT CHILDREN!” Bat-Mite screams. He is ripping the world apart, through the reality-warping equivalent of a massive temper tantrum. 

But I keep a little piece safe, and the people of this world float and forget this strange twisting of dimensions.

Because I am the one telling this story. I cannot be touched if I don’t let him. And the little boy in my care won’t be, either. Or the ones whose heads Batman is messing with. Because I can NEVER let a child be hurt. This is more important then TV.

“I MADE THEM!” Bat-Mite cries, one last desperate plea to convince me to leave them to suffer at his hands.   “Oh, you did, did you? They don’t seem to know you even exist.”

“They couldn’t! I needed to keep absolute secrecy-oooohhh...” He turns away in a gesture of petulant defeat.

I don’t fully trust him, no matter what his motives are at this point, so I don’t lower any boundaries.

Knock, Knock. I turn and see Oliver trying to get my attention, politely knocking on the bubble’s shield like the relic of a bygone era.

I let him out into my bigger bubble. 

He skids up to me. “Miss? Can I go home now?”

I look at him, and I feel sad, because none of this needed to happen.

 None of this was his fault; not in the past, and not in the present. 

And even if it was, taking it all out on him wouldn’t do jack. 

“Please Miss,” Oliver says, mistaking my hesitation for refusal. “You said you would help me. And I really want to go home.”

My eyes sting. “Of course you do, Oliver. Of course you do,”

I close my eyes, and, far away from Bat-Mite’s prying eyes, he’s home, with family who will truly take care of him. His parents came home.

Bat-Mite howls. His favorite punching bag of all is gone. He’ll never find him. I’ll never let him find him, not when he has murder and hate on his mind, when he seeks to blame an innocent instead of growing up and seeing the flipside.

The world of storytelling can be hard to define. What’s popular is not always right. What’s right is not always popular. Sometimes the crowd refuses to accept a bit of cannon, sometimes reality just clashes to hard, sometimes-and sometimes there is just far too much at stake to not stand firm for your own beliefs. 

“No more dead kids,” I whisper.

Bat-Mite blows a raspberry at me.

  I grab Punchichi just before Batman deals the final reality wiping blow. He’s here with me. 

“Put ‘em up!” He yells. “I can take you!”

I reach into my pocket and throw a white hankie into the air; a sign of surrender. Then I kneel down and smile at him. “Hi, Punchichi,” I say.

He stares up at me. “Who are you?” 

So sweet. So happy. Bat-Mite was counting on everyone being too wrapped up in themselves to see the character for who he was made to be.

“Don’t worry, Punchichi,” I tell him. “It’ll be OK. I just really wanted to meet you. You look so much like someone I know. I love him so much. I love how happy and noble and brave he was. I know you’ll be a great hero. I know you have the right heart.” 

I touch his forehead, remembering every time Scrappy did something like crash through a solid wall or something noble or a heart-melting moment with him and Scooby. Now he has the puppy power too.

And then I bring in Kiki Wayne and Helen Wayne to my safe, safe bubble where nobody has to get hurt. 

“This is Kiki,” I tell him.

The two children squeal at the sight of eachother.

“A puppy?!” Kiki exclaims.

“A neighbor?!” 

And just like that, they’re friends. 

I smile. It’s nothing like the Batman that anyone knows, but it’s beautiful in its own way to me. Innocent and joyful and full of so much potential. Not worth being created only to be thrown away. “Have fun, you two,”

They both grin at me. Bat-Mite thought of them, but he didn’t care about them. I won’t let him hurt them.

Next is Batman’s wife. 

 “Thank you for existing,” I say. “Thanks for being a good mom and a good companion to Batman. You must have done something right for him to develop as a character.” 

She just looks at me. Oliver, Kiki, and Punchichi, with the child-like innocence, accepted me and thus, I could reach them.

“Who are you?” She asks. She has taken a fighting stance. She need not be worried. I’ll be brief.

“A friend,” I close my eyes. She’s not gone. She’s safe, where she can raise her cherished daughter in peace. 

Punchichi and Ace are there too. Children do make a difference. But they are also the future. And no child should be treated as a tool of destruction. 

“C’mon, I needed the realism,” Bat-Mite pleads. Given his nature, he heard my inner musings. “If I had just made them into empty minions, then nobody would’ve hated them. It takes a brave soul to take down a child who needs to-”

“No! Nobody in their right mind kills children! Nobody! Zilch! Zap!” I say. “And you know, Bat-Mite, I didn’t ruin anything. The show was already ending. This was the finale. The fate of this show was already set in stone when you started work on it. Even if you hadn’t played any of your mind games with Batman, then the show still would have been cancelled. The cancellation was part of the story too. You didn’t actually break the fourth wall at all.”

“WHHA?! NO!!-So what was the point of this?!” Bat-Mite demands.

I give him a bittersweet smile. 

“Zilch.” I say.  “Zippo. Goose egg. Just writers messing around.”

He gawks at me, and I need to do one last thing. I send Bat-Mite somewhere, anywhere, I don’t care, I just don’t want him to be able to hurt anybody anymore.

I only have one thing left to settle.

Later, somewhere else 

“Batman.” I say. “I saw the show. I know it was  already ending. The family you were given was a red herring, the writers knew the show was ending.  I don’t know if Ambush Bug was lying to you, or if he was just another tool. But I know how happy you were to have a daughter. And I know that I don’t want you to be the kind of person who kills people for no reason. Even if you do it without guns.” 

He gives me a long look, trying to place my face, and when he realizes he can’t, I’ve already made a nice tough force field. Being the narrator can do a lot of things, but it can’t give me the skills to believably beat Batman in a one-on-one.

So he just continues to look at me.

 “Your daughter gave you the will to protect Gotham,” I said. “How do you know that wasn’t real?”

“She wasn’t mine,” “What about your wife? Did you even try to figure out if she was lying to you, or just as clueless a pawn as you were?”

“Was she?” Batman is quick to ask.

“No. She wasn’t. She was too kind to really be just a mindless puppet. Plus Bat-Mite is too lazy to actually put that much work into an illusion.” On this, Batman needs no convincing.

“Plus Bat-Mite is kinda messed up, so I don’t think that he could convincingly fake such well-adjusted individuals,” 

Batman nods. “He would know what they looked like, though…”

“So he could copy the inner workings, and let them be real, to trick you better,” I press.

“Batman, is your job to protect Gotham, or be a star on a TV show?” “But all of this is a TV show!” Batman said. “If that’s the only thing I can count on, then that should be the only thing that matters.”

“......Batman, hit me,”

“...No.”

“Because if you did, then I would crumple like a paper tiger, and that would be bad for me.” I smile at him. “None of that would matter if we weren’t real,” “...So, am I real?” “Your story is real. Just think about everything. It doesn’t have to go dark. The story goes on even when nobody’s looking. It lives on in time and fate. It lives on in the words and drawings that remain, even when nobody pays any attention to them. It lives on in the seeds of fate woven in the narrative, that softly point to the future. If you pander to people who willingly kill children, you are no better then if you mindlessly plow on for the sake of money.” 

“Batman, think about what it was like with your wife and your daughter. Don’t think about what the people watching felt, think about how you felt.” I’ve seen the episode. He loved them. He loved having worked past enough of his issues to have someone to protect. Punchichi’s skill with the surfboard and his companionship for Kiki was something any father and hero would want in a friend or a sidekick. And who cares how

flashy the new equipment is as long as it helps you do your job and protect them?

Batman gulps. “Helen...Kiki...can I get them back?”

“They’re both A-OK.”

Batman is quiet for a long time. “Can they ever forgive me?” “There’s only one way to find out,” I whisper. 

“Thank you…”

He’s not a puppet for fans of the corporation. He’s a fleshed out character who wants his family back, after having an established bond with them.

And now, he has some fences to mend. Choices to make.

I know no matter what happens, no matter what Mrs. Wayne chooses, everything will be OK. 

The kids are alright. Kiki will have her mom and Punchichi. Batman will not kill because random people tell him the fate of the world depends on it.

 And best of all, nobody had to die. 

Batman’s story lives on, maybe not in a way that makes the viewers happy, but in a way where Batman can grow, and isn’t just a toy in the hands of megafans. Oliver is reunited with his parents, the ones who truly cared about him.

It’s the best ending for me, and right now the story’s in my hands.

I feel happy.

And based on that, I can finally say, and they all lived happily ever after. 

[dibidibifiction]

Criminal In My Mind: Chapter 17

Warnings: foul language; violence  Pairings: Choi Minho x Reader; Kim Jonghyun x Kim Kibum Word count: 1.4k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction made for personal entertainment of readers. The writer does not ever intend to offend her readers nor does she aim to spread false information about anyone as to pay any disrespect to the real-life persons whom the characters are based on. She also does not claim ownership to any of the images that are being used.

masterlist Chapter 16

Y/N

“I’ll just send you more ideas of how I’m thinking of arranging them, then you could just tell me which of those you think your grandma would like. Sounds good?”

“Okay. Thanks, Unnie!” a girl in a high school uniform with a cute bow on her head waves at me as she hurriedly walks out the door. 

The door chimes again when I see a muscular Lee Taemin appear from the gym in his sleeveless workout shirt that highlights his biceps. “Woah, since when did you become a man?”

“Very funny,” he laughs at my comment sarcastically. “I need to look good since I’m currently auditioning everywhere to become a dancer.”

“That’s great! Good for you. Fighting!” I cheer him on. 

“Fighting,” he says back, putting up his fist and smiling with his ever-so-cute smile. “Right, Noona, change of plans. I won’t be able to help you tonight with sorting out the deliveries. I’ll be out. Later!” He heads to the backdoor up to his apartment.

“Wait!” I stop him. “Where are you going?” I say with a sad voice.

“I don’t think you wanna know. Bye!”

“Hey, Lee Taemin, get the fuck back here!” I shout, yet I don’t mean to sound pissed.

He turns around, facing back at me. “Okay, fine, I’m going to the hospital to meet up with Minho Hyung to work on our photography thing.”

“Oh,” I simply say, dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry, but you asked,” he shrugs, then turns his back on me and heads out.

Every time I hear his name, I want to cry. I’m trying to understand him, I really am, since he’s been having a tough time because of what happened to his mom. I just don’t know why he had to push me away like that all of a sudden. Maybe I was being too intrusive and suffocating. Does he not love me anymore? Or did he ever? What’s so wrong with me that he couldn’t take it anymore?

After closing the flower shop, I immediately run to the nearest stop, hop on a bus, and go to Kibum’s house. I have to do something to keep myself from crying again. That’s how my days have been since Minho and I stopped seeing each other. I have been crying so much for a week that my eyes are already swollen. It’s been only a day since I stopped. Well, kind of. I cried this morning in front of my vanity mirror. And on the bus on my way to work. 

This is my first heartbreak, I can’t help it. I hate myself for this. I even googled ‘how to stop crying’. How stupid is that?

. . . 

“Hey, Minho came by earlier today to get his car,” Kibum informs me out of nowhere and sits on the couch across from me.

“How did you guys do it?” I ask him, ignoring what he said, resting my chin on the armrest as I watch Jonghyun Oppa playing with their little boys. 

“How did we do what?” He puts down his phone and turns to me.

“How did you go through your, like, shit?”

“Well, I never gave up on him,” he replies, immediately understanding what I’m talking about. “Even when he pushed me away. Although not in a way that I was forcing him. I mean there was a lot of waiting around without expecting a thing, thinking that I’d regret it if I didn’t do anything, whether he’d take me back or not. When I least expected it, he just came by the dorm one night. Boy, we had great sex the night!”

“Yeah, I was in the other room and I could never forget it,” I add, rolling my eyes. “So are you saying that I should just wait for him?”

“Your situation is different. You didn’t do anything wrong. If I were you, I’d still wait, but not too long. Maybe just give him more time to recover from what happened and see if he’ll come around.”

“I’m supposed to be there for him but he just doesn’t want me. Maybe he lied when he told me he loved me.”

“Honey, don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe he just wants to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

He shrugs, watching his fiancé get on top of him as they start making out in front of me.

I grab a throw pillow and smack it at Jonghyun’s ass and walk toward the twins. I kneel down when one of them runs into my arms.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” he says while the other twin is just on his tablet as usual.

“Oh, honey, he broke my heart,” I act, putting my hand on my chest.

“I’m gonna kill him!” he shouts, his face pouting into an angry face like a cute emoji.

I just laugh at him and kiss him on the cheek. “Hey, who wants a story?” I invite them. “Come on, time for bed.”

I hold the little one’s hand and lead him into their bedroom while the other one follows still with his gadget in his face.

“Hey! I told you to put that down when you’re walking!” I hear Kibum yell at his son from the living room like a naggy old mom.

. . . 

Days are passing by so slowly. I cry myself to sleep almost every night and I didn’t realize that another week has passed that I still haven’t heard from him. I decided that I’ll take my time off work because, well, Mr. Lee made me. Apparently, me being so down is so obvious that I start feeding up people around me. 

“You’re not fed up on me, are you?” I ask Jinki whilst he starts to close up the café.

“Of course not. I’m always here to listen,” he told me sweetly. “By the way, did you try calling Kibum and go to him instead?”

I glare at him. “They’re busy working and planning the wedding and all,” I answer anyway.

“I’m kidding,” he laughs as he carries on wiping tables. “Come on, talk to me.”

“Well, Minho…” I don’t even know where to start.

“Yeah?” He grabs a chair and sits next to me. “I actually visited him and his mom at the hospital the other day.”

And just like that, I’m weeping again.

Jinki and I end up talking for hours and I’ve never felt comforted in what feels like a long time. This is why I never let go of our friendship despite our chaotic relationship back in the day. He’s a good guy and I’m glad that we patched things up. As he tells me different stories about the girls he dated, I slowly lean my head down on my arms on the table to rest my eyes for a bit, still listening.

“...so I’m sure Minho will realize soon enough that he can’t get by without you and he’ll come back eventually,” he says. “I mean he doesn’t talk about your relationship a lot but I could see the way he was looking at you every time you’re here. You’re a great girl and if it really doesn’t work-” he suddenly stops talking as he sees me dozing off.

Although I’m really not.

“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

No. I’m too tired to answer out loud.

Then there was silence. After a few seconds, I can feel his face getting closer to mine, his chin rests on the back of his palm I assume. “Why can’t you just be mine?” he says softly in front of my lips.

What the hell is he doing? Is he out of his mind? This is a fucking bad idea. I have to think fast. So I budge a little, slowly opening my eyes. 

When I do, he’s already standing up staring, seeming dumbfounded. 

“Sorry, I completely fell asleep there for a minute,” I lie. “Maybe I should go home and get some rest.”

“Y-yeah, you should,” he says, avoiding my eyes. 

Without saying anything else, I walk out the door and make my way to the dark streets.

As I’m walking alone, I can still feel my face burning because of what Jinki said. 

Why did he have to make things weird? I think to myself, grabbing a chunk of my hair and stomping my feet.

When I arrive at the bus stop, there is nobody else here besides a guy in a thick sweater with a black face mask over his mouth. I turn away to look the other way, waiting for a bus. When I do, I feel a hard smack at the back of my head and…

. . . 

The next thing I know is I’m awakened by a numbing punch in the face. 

And another one. 

And another one. 

And another one. 

I’m now laid on the ground, feeling all kinds of severe pain. I can barely open my eyes, I can barely move. I’m starting to hear high-pitched ringing like feedback of a sound system. 

Another punch follows, but this time on my head.

Chapter 18 

[reliciron]

Notes on Redeeming Arcann: Part 1

Ok, here are my thoughts on redeeming Arcann. This is just my own current analysis of his character and where I might take him in possible future fics. If someone has a different interpretation I would love to hear it as my own ideas on him continue to shift. If anyone is struggling with his character, I hope this might give you a starting point or jog some new ideas. And if you’re just reading this because you like character analysis (I do too), then I hope you enjoy it and it’s not too incoherent.

This first part will focus more on redeeming Arcann. The second will be my thoughts on his character motivations.

Part 2

Alright, this is going to be very, very long, so strap in. 

Ok, so since I don’t have a lot of experience writing, I felt my own grasp of what it takes to redeem a villain was a little too shaky to do Arcann’s redemption justice on my own. He’s admittedly a pretty horrific character at his worst, and the game itself really doesn’t do a very good job of giving him a believable redemption arc. I feel it would be very easy for an inexperienced writer like me to fall into character apologia and try to ignore what he’s done in favor of ‘it’s not his fault’. Fiction is full of men who act like jerks and excuse it with daddy issues, and I’m really trying to carry that awareness into his redemption so I can avoid that pitfall. The atrocities he committed were his choices, but understanding why he became a character who would make those choices does not mean that he wasn’t ultimately at fault for what he did.

So with that in mind I did a quick search, looked through a few guides on redemption, and eventually settled on this one.

In an effort to make this smooth, I have copy/pasted the major points from the article and put them in brackets with my responses following each one.

[Realism is derived from a multitude of factors, but one of the most important is having authentic motives. Villainy is a dark path for a reason – it’s hard to come back from – which is why you need a super-bright ‘why’ torch to help your baddie see the light.

The best way to create a ‘why’ (or a motive) is to understand where it comes from. For example:

Maybe your villain wants a bigger pay off and this is how he thinks he will get it

He could be taking an order from someone more powerful

A more emotional reason might be that the hero appeals to his heart by saving someone the villain cares about

Or perhaps the villain just wants to right a wrong or past mistake]

-----

Ok, so Arcann has a little of the last 2 of those reasons. Now that he’s gone through the Force Healing dishwasher, he wants to try and make up for all the horrible things he did (Mostly the people he killed for shits and giggles while hunting down the Outlander. War is war, and he might not beat himself up over the people he personally killed on the battlefield. They made the choice to be soldiers/Jedi/Sith, and they knew they might die when they went up against him.)

He was also swayed by the Outlander letting him and Senya go, and how they cared for her while he was figuring things out.

-----

[Whatever the plot point for justifying your villain’s redemption, you can create added depth to their motive by linking it to an old wound in his past.]

-----

His mother left, and it’s possible that he still wonders what would have happened if he and his siblings had gone with her (I can’t remember if he touched on this in one of his cut-scenes during KOTFE). But more importantly, no one has ever come back for him except his brother. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect Vaylin to care about him enough to help him unless it benefits her, so after Thexan’s death he feels like he’s alone and nobody would miss him if he died. And that’s… really not a good place to be.

He doesn’t feel connected to his people since I doubt he ever saw much of them while growing up, so it’s easier to treat them like dirt if he can’t empathize with them. Also, the closest person to him, and the only one he seems to care about, is Vaylin, and she’s even more messed up than him so they just echo each other’s cruelty and drive each other to new heights of awfulness.

So that’s why it’s so important to him and game changing that his mom shows up after he’s been defeated.

Now the scene in KotFE goes like this: Senya finds Arcann dead (unconscious) and pinned under a bunch of debris. She drags him out and cries because she thinks he’s dead. Then Vaylin shows up, and while Senya is focused on her, Arcann blinks awake. Vaylin starts to attack, and Arcann stops her. Blah blah blah, Senya saves Arcann because he tried to protect her and she “feels the good in him”.

Ok.

(Keep in mind, my computer chugs much worse if I have the background music on, so I always play with it off. So scenes that maaaaay be relying too much on the music to carry the emotional weight, don’t have that crutch to lean on when I see them.)

Putting aside some dumb stuff, like why didn’t Senya sense that he was alive, and why didn’t she “sense the good in him” until after he pushed Vaylin away, here’s a few tweaks I might make:

Senya finds Arcann badly injured and pinned under debris. She realizes that he’s still breathing so she drags him out, sits down, and cradles him in her arms. She fully expects that he’s going to die, and her resolve crumbles. She rocks him gently and sings to him, her voice breaking here and there as the ship comes apart around them. She left her children once, and she refuses to leave Arcann again. She’s going to stay with him until he succumbs to his wounds, or the ship disintegrates.

To her surprise, he begins to wake. He turns his head into her chest, instinctively remembering her voice and the way she’d sing when comforting him and his brother after a painful day of training. He opens his eyes blearily with a mumbled “Mother?”. And now, finally, after years of being apart, she senses the conflict in him. Buried under years of pain and rage, is the tiny flicker of the boy she used to know.

The ship shudders underneath them and she makes her choice.

She hauls him up and throws his remaining arm over her shoulders. He can barely support his own weight and is fading in and out of consciousness as she drags him off the dais. They’re almost to the door when Vaylin appears and cuts them off.

Senya pleads with her, but Vaylin refuses to see reason and moves to kill her. Senya tries to throw Arcann out of the way, but the minute his arm is clear he manages to force push Vaylin away, where she appears to be crushed under falling debris.

Senya can’t save both of them, but she didn’t feel any conflict in Vaylin. So she chooses Arcann and takes him to the shuttle.

After they’re far enough away, Vaylin comes to in a rage, only to find that she’s missed her chance. She too, escapes in a patrol vessel.

-----

[Epiphany Redemption

Sometimes we don’t realize we have bad habits until someone tells us or we suddenly become aware of them. One of the most famous epiphany redemption examples is Scrooge going through an awakening. With the help of the Christmas ghosts, he’s shown the impact of his actions which causes him to see that he’s been leading a terrible life. The end of the story show him as a changed man, being kind and charitable to others.]

----

This sounds like what happened to Arcann.

It could be that with his mind clouded with pain and a likely concussion, he forgets his anger enough to think that, if his mother cared enough to save him and feels there’s still good in him, maybe there is.

It could be worked into the healing ritual, instead of this nebulous “light sapping the dark from him while he lays unconscious” thing. It could be that the ritual lifts all of his emotional baggage up so that he can view his past choices through a clear lens. Kind of A Christmas Carol speed-run, where his actions flash by in his mind and the horror of what he’d become slowly builds and replaces some of the rage. So the healing ritual doesn’t cure him of the darkness, so much as it’s a cold dose of the reality of his actions without the rage and bad justifications covering it up. The pain and rage is still there, and he’ll have to deal with it naturally later (get that boy a THERAPIST), but it no longer gets in the way of his decision making and he’s free to make better choices.

This explains why he was so panicked when he woke up that he didn’t notice his mother was still alive. And her “death” was just one more horrible thing he’s done. That even in healing, he still manages to kill the people close to him.

(It’s also why I always take the choice to tell him that Senya’s still alive right before he flies away, to spare him from that extra self hatred.)

-----

[It takes time. Just as a hero takes an entire novel to overcome her flaw, it will take some time for a villain to make this monumental change. Don’t let them flip-flop like a beached fish between good and evil – the change needs to build slowly throughout the book.]

----

I think this is the main issue that a lot of people seem to have with Arcann’s redemption. The healing ritual was such a hand-wavy “ok he’s better now” cop-out for what would normally be months or years of interesting character development.

I understand of course. This is a game, not a book series. There isn’t time to give Arcann the kind of focus that sort of development needs, and they weren’t allowed to weave his redemption too much into the story because not everyone spares him.

We can lessen the impact of this by ignoring some canon things and writing around others, but it would take a major rewrite of a large chunk of KotET to integrate this point.

-----

[Foreshadow, foreshadow, foreshadow. Readers don’t like to be cheated. You need to drop breadcrumbs throughout your story to let your reader know subconsciously that the villain is going to change, otherwise they’ll feel cheated. It doesn’t take much – the occasional soft glance from the villain, a nicely spoken sentence, and action that is ‘good’ rather than evil. Tiny clues.]

-----

There were tiny hints here and there, but not really enough for my taste and they were very easy to miss.

Some examples I can think of are:

He sort of yells at Vaylin at one point and without her saying anything, he immediately backs off, calms his voice down, and tells her that he’s not blaming her. She’s flippant about it, but it made it clear that he cares about her enough to treat her with respect and what little affection he’s capable of at that point.

@swtorpadawan made a good point in this post about how Arcann’s hesitation in destroying the Gravestone might’ve been because he sensed his mother’s presence.

And while I don’t think it was supposed to be hesitation on Arcann’s part, just the game forgetting about the time as we are shown Koth lining up the shot, he technically DID hesitate in killing the Outlander after he stabbed them (assuming you refused Valkorian’s power). There was a decent length of time where he had them, mortally wounded and defenseless, and he hesitated so long that Koth discovered the scene, figured out a plan, and shot out that big thing on the ceiling.

-----

[Don’t make it easy. It’s hard for the hero to overcome her flaw and likewise, it should be hard for a villain to overcome his. A quick way to make it harder for the villain to redeem himself is to catch him between two of his values. For example, while this character isn’t a villain, it still illustrates the point: Ned Stark in Game of Thrones values loyalty and wisdom – his wisdom tells him if he helps his King it will inevitably lead to his death, and yet, his loyalty forces him to help the King anyways.]

----

This one is closely tied to the “it takes time” point, and is also horribly ignored in the story. Once he’s healed he’s practically a different person. Now I don’t know if it’s because they didn’t devote much time to his writing since he’s an optional character, or if they meant to write him like this, but it’s still unfortunate.

He strikes me as determined and ruthless (like his mom). His interaction with Thexan and his commitment to the Outlander seems to imply that he’s loyal once he’s found someone worthy of it. He’s intelligent, but can be arrogant sometimes (of course this will have been knocked down a few pegs since the Outlander kicked his ass).

An easy point of conflict between his values (especially soon after he joins the Alliance), would be between his loyalty to the Outlander and his ruthlessness.

He could be on a mission with the Outlander, and have an enemy defeated but alive. The Outlander might want to spare them, while his ruthlessness demands their death. He knows how people like this work, that sparing them is a good way to get stabbed in the back, and if the Outlander is too softhearted to look out for themselves then he will.

BUT the Outlander is showing him trust by letting him accompany them, both trust that Arcann won’t kill them and that he will follow orders. Their trust is extremely precious to him (especially if he’s already crushing on the Outlander) so he really wants to do as they say.

He’s forced to balance their trust against his need to protect them.

------

[Don’t let them go soft. Villains are villains for a reason. Keep them authentic by retaining some of their sharper personality edges. Just because their actions are good doesn’t mean the whole of them will be.]

-----

I feel like this one is especially important, and also terribly overlooked.

Arcann learned some bad habits while being a villain and even when growing up, some of those should carry over into his healed self.

They might lessen with time and careful retraining, but he will always have sharp edges.

He will probably have a temper (although this must be handled very carefully to avoid making him look childish and abusive).

And if someone he cares about is threatened he may fly into a rage until they can calm him down. This rage may be followed by flashbacks of the battles he’s been through and the way the hatred felt in his gut, leaving him panicked and shaky once it’s over.

He probably has nightmares regularly, and care must be taken in waking him up to avoid a violent response, same thing with sneaking up on him: DON”T.

Honestly, the dude went through so much and did so many horrible things that I don’t see how he wouldn’t have PTSD. He certainly has self-hatred up to his eyeballs.

-------

One more thing:

Once he’s joined the Alliance, I think we need to be careful when writing him to make sure that his goal of trying to make up for the horrible things he’s done isn’t overlooked. I mean yeah, he’s helping by coming along on missions with the Commander, but that is super small time stuff compared to what he’s done and I don’t think he’d be satisfied with it for long.

He’s an intelligent man with experience commanding armies on the battlefield, and an extremely talented Force-user. At minimum, and when not accompanying the Outlander, he should spend most of his day immersed in Alliance reports giving tactical advice (once they trust him enough, of course) and helping with combat training in the Force Enclave. When they trust him more, he can maybe become the official liaison between the Alliance and Zakuul, using the resources and tech of his home world to help the reconstruction on the planets he bombarded and getting Zakuul what they need as well.

Of course, once the Republic/Empire war starts up again, his position will change and he may take on a more military role, commanding offensives on behalf of whichever side the Alliance has picked.

My point is, wallowing in emotional hurt/comfort and developing romance is really fun and satisfying, but don’t forget his promise to atone for his misdeeds.

[morethanithoughtofficialblog]

Chapter 5: Was there any point in trying?

In which you wonder if this was a good idea. 

*Toriel's POV*

I put on the best dress I could find and perfumed myself with a gift that Lauren gave me. She has been too nice since we arrived on the Surface. I think I should give her a present!

...once all of this is over.

(Y/N) said yesterday that everything was fine and that the president only wanted to discuss the terms of our freedom. Let's just hope that is true.

Therefore, Asgore and I will attend a meeting with the president and, of course, (Y/N). She's been such a sweetheart with us, always supportive and encouraging. I would love to have her as a friend; she is just wonderful!

I was about to leave the house when I felt my daughter's hand tugging my sleeve.

"Mom, why can't we go?"

I felt how my heart slowly sank, knowing that my child wants to know everything about this. Such a caring, loving girl. She'll be a great woman.

"Oh, my dear, (Y/N) said that only Asgore and I should go. But worry not! You have your friends here to entertain yourself!"

"But, mom... they're as worried as I am"

I looked into the living room and realized that Frisk was right. Sans's smile was fading slowly, Arial's expression was as concerned as her first day on her new job, Undyne was probably waiting for an explanation, and so on. Even Papyrus seemed a little bit shaky for all of this.

"I promise that everything is going to be ok, my child. Now be a good girl, and behave yourself in front of Richard and Lauren"

"Yes, mom..." She pouted, seeing there was no point in complaining with her mother. I sighed and left the house, Asgore nervously waiting for me. Oh dear...

"Sha-shall we go, To-tori?"

"Don't 'Tori' me, Asgore"

"M-my apologies..."

And then we started our uncomfortable way to our meeting, trying our best to not break down.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Your POV*

Suit? Yep.

Makeup? Yep.

Tie? Yep.

Perfume? Please don't put more of that thing.

I nervously sighed and looked at my watch, then at myself. Did I put little effort or too much on my outfit? Do I have enough makeup? Is it exaggerated? Should I have put my hair up in a bun instead of keeping it down? Should I have left my glasses at home?

My mind's been teasing me way too much ever since Mailey left the café, minutes after I ended my call with Asgore. I'm probably going to fuck up all my effort.

Why am I even tryi-

"Hello, Miss (L/N)" a tall and recognized man greeted, a neutral look on his face. I snapped immediately back to reality and extended my hand.

"Good morning, Mr. President" I answered, keeping my cool "Please take a seat. The rulers of the Underground should be here in a few minutes"

"Wonderful. Do you have tea, by any chance?"

What?

"...sure! Which type do you like?"

"Goldenflower tea would be excellent- if you have, of course"

Oh, so now his questioning me?! What a jerk!

"Uh, yes I do, sir. It's one of the King's favorites, actually"

"Really? Hmm. Now I want to meet him more..."

I put the teapot over a small table I had and started to make the tea. I don't think I'm that bad making it, so maybe I have a chance. And just when I was serving him a cup in silence, a knock was heard on the door.

Good thing I have more teacups.

"Come in!"

Mr. and Mrs. Dreemurr entered softly in the room, immediately greeting the man. Of course he goes first, right? Eh, I shouldn't be thinking this way. 'Cause, after all, they indeed greeted me with a bigger smile.

I smiled to myself and grabbed two cups of tea on the main desk, then I returned for the other two.

And just like that, we started.

This is going to be a long day.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Sans's POV* (oh boy)

This is gonna be a long day

The kid's been way more annoying than ever, poking everyone with desperation and trying to find the perfect game to entertain us. What a wimp.

Everyone's nervous, yes, but we have to hold on. Honestly, though, I already gave up hope. We are definitely going back to the Underground. It was just a matter of time. Oh well, the Surface was... something while it lasted.

I should text (Y/N) a message and thank her for giving us a slight spark of hope. Besides, from one of the few kind humans that tried to help us. She really shouldn't have wasted her time on us. We were a lost cause since the very beginning.

And now, it will hurt more. Because we had a chance to feel the sun and to see the stars, but that will be just a memory from now on. It hurts. It really does.

I just wished I could have really enjoyed my time here so far. Because I probably didn't. Mostly because I got to be with my parents way more than I did before in my whole life.

Paps has tried his best to keep me happy, but it's just not that easy, y' know? We have our history together, and it's not the best. Especially with my father, Gaster, and how perfect he wants me to be.

But I'm Sans. A fucked-up young skeleton that feels old. A comedian for everyone, an asshole for myself.

Arial, my mother, was washing dishes over and over, hoping nobody noticed. But I bet everyone did. I guess that's her way to deal with anxiety, huh? She's probably inexperienced with this feeling. How... fortunate.

I, myself, have dealt with this since I was a kid. Therefore, while everyone was trying to distract themselves, I was just laying on the couch with a lazy grin. I'm just that experienced.

I must admit I'm not that relaxed, though. Ever since Toriel and Asgore explained what was going on, I wasn't able to focus on my reading. And it's a science fiction book, so it's really weird. It's eating me up 'cause, well,  the kid could reset again.

And I'm not letting it happen...

again.

I groaned, feeling useless than usual. I've been promising myself that I won't let it happen again; ever since Flowey, even, 'cause he had that ability before the kid came.

Those two little freaks have ruined my life. Well, them and my parents. But that's another story.

Alphys started to think negatively, just like me. The difference was that she did it out loud.

"Alphys! Don't think that way!" Frisk exclaimed, visibly angry.

"Hey! You just don't shout at MY girlfriend!" Undyne roared, angrier than Frisk "If you want to discuss something, THEN SAY IT TO ME FIRST!"

Aaaaaaand the fight began... shit.

Paps, being the kind monster he is, intervened in the fight between his friends. Alphys tried to calm Undyne, while Frisk just kept being a sassy prick.

Oh kid, if only Tori knew.

Flowey groaned at first but ended up supporting Frisk, just because she was about to punch Alphys. Arial grew worried and tried her best to keep Papyrus out of it.

But she couldn't. It doesn't surprise me one bit.

Gaster just silently watched. I bet he is mentally smirking at this point.

That fucking jerk.

Mettaton walked away from it some two good miles, avoiding any bruise that would affect his disgusting reputation. Napstablook... he just cried in silence. He is such a huge mood. I wonder if he knows that.

Then Undyne pushed Paps hard. Like, REALLY hard.

And no one, and I mean no one, touches my FUCKING BROTHER.

"hey! watch your goddamn moves!" I shouted, losing my cool completely. Way to go, Sans.

"Make me" She dared, with a stupid smile on her face. Oh, it's on.

...

I ended up having a fistfight with Undyne, throwing her on the floor and punching her face like if my life depended on it.

I just couldn't think straight. My mind went blank, and my left eye switched between blue and yellow. Again.

Arial tried to pull me away, and again, she failed. I glanced at Gaster briefly and saw a hint of hate on his face. Disappointment, anger, and shame. Ashamed of his own son. Oh, I hate this guy so much, I could do the same to him as I did to Undyne...

...

And I did.

I balanced towards him, shouting things like "stop looking at me like that!" or "what's your fucking problem?!". Undyne wasn't unconscious nor near to being, and that just made me angrier. I wanted to grab Papyrus, burn the house, then continue with my life.

Then I saw something I didn't want to- or well, someone...

Emily. Emily was still there, watching in horror.

Shit.

I suddenly stopped, realizing my mistake. Everyone had a hint of surprise and horror on their faces. Everyone, except Frisk and Flowey.

They have seen me like this before.

And now, everyone has.

Now they know something I didn't want them to know.

I fucked up.

"emily, kid... i'm sorry" I muttered, feeling like a mess. "thank you for everything, by the way. it was great while it lasted".

Then, before I could hear her response, I teleported to my room, which wasn't even my own.

And I broke down.

I just fucked up way more than I thought.

No one will think of me as the same.

Not even Paps.

My life is ruined.

I would beg for a reset, but the kid and the weed would remember anyway.

They're gonna make my life fucking hell.

I continued crying and laughing, knowing that now no one out there would help me.

That, after all, I hadn't had any hope left.

And it hurts.

It really does.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Your POV*

We ended up with a shake of hands, and when the president left the room, we three hugged happily.

We did it.

It was actually quite easier than I thought. I must thank all those people who fought racism and discrimination back in the past. Without them, this wouldn't have happened.

We reasoned peacefully with him, and he promised he would let all the country know the news: Monsters have now legal rights.

Maybe people won't accept them easily, but hey, they're legal citizens now! I was so happy I could have cried.

...

And I did.

And they did, too.

We were just that happy we could finally get rid of this.

However, they needed an ambassador: someone who could represent them.

Therefore...

"(Y/N), dear, I think you should be our ambassador!" Mrs. Dreemurr happily exclaimed between sobs, and I just froze.

Ambassador? C'mon (Y/N), you know you can't do it! Besid-

"Yes, young one! You deserve it!" Asgore added, letting more tears down his fluffy fur.

Wait, do they really want me to be the one? To have this honor? ME?!?!

"I, uh..."

I couldn't think straightly. My mind went blank, my vision blurrier, and my heart sank. And, without thinking, I finally agreed.

"I'll be your ambassador. I, (Y/N) (L/N), will represent you all!"

And with that, we hugged again, making me the happiest girl on the Earth.

It feels good...

It really does.

[jeidafei]

D.Gray-Man: Few Things You Should Know about “Red”

A few facts we DGM fans really should talk about before succumbing to that Red!fic plotbunny pouncing about in our brains!

So I’ve been suffering through another D.Gray fangirling phase. I’ve been trawling Fanfiction.net for every DGM story I could sink my teeth into. I absolutely adore fanfictions about Red. Heck, EVERYONE absolutely adore fanfictions about Red (just look at the number of favs and comments!). Firecracker, A Blast to the Past, Red, etc., you name it. I’ve pretty much read through all of them more than once.

But something just isn’t right about these otherwise perfect fanfictions (well, other than the fact that they’re never finished T T), and it bugs me so much, as I am myself an avid fanfiction writer (of a Thai novel), and I’ve seen this same mistake play out in various fandoms.

It’s Red himself.

I’ve read Lost Fragment of Snow (LFS) whenever I wanted to tear my heart to pieces, and recently I’ve been translating it, so there are a few things I’d like everyone to keep in mind when you come up with little past!Allen plotbunnies.

1. Red does NOT talk back at Cosimo. Or anyone.

Red is rough and bitter, yes, but he is not a big-talker and he is not stupid. He is deeply traumatized, and traumatized kids will not do things they know will only get them more beating-ups.

Actually, I think anyone will know better than to talk back at Cosimo, not just traumatized kids.

So if you have Red yelling his head off at Cosimo, you’re not only giving the poor kid unnecessary misery but you’re also making him look silly.

(C’mon Allen, use your brain. You’re seven years old and a pipsqueak. Unless you’re sure you can beat him up with your Innocence then shut your trap, kid!)

If you look carefully at Red in LFS, you will notice that he barely even talks at all. He could curse them wankers for pages in his head, but he’ll never voice it out.

Hoshino-sensei described Red in the guidebooks as nama-iki, which could be translated along the lines of brazen, impertinent, cheeky, feisty...etc. Red (and later Allen) has certainly shown that side of him to Mana, Cross and Kanda, but even he knows when he must bite his tongue and keep his head down. 

Examples:

1) Cosimo is annoyed when he fails his act, and throws a juggling ball hard at Red’s face, blaming his cursed arm for dirtying the ball.

Fanfiction!Red: What da heck ya stupid wanker! It’s ya own fault ya messed up yer own show! (goes on and on and on until Cosimo knocks the fluff outta him.)

CanonLFS!Red: He thought how performers would blame the propsー and himー for their mistakes. But to Cosimo, he simply glared after his back (and not before he turned and left the tent.) and said nothing...at all.

2) In the opening scene, Cosimo just came picking on Red and started kicking him like a punching bag. Not because Red said anything to him; just because Red (foolishly) gave him an angry glare (he’s seven years old, you gotta forgive him sometimes).

As far as I can see, not a single Whaddya want, ya wanker! I can hear. When you’re Red, you don’t have to go that far to get a kick from Cosimo. You only need to exist.

2. Actually, Red’s life is not that bad.

Please don’t kill me yet and hear me out on this. I mean yeah, it’s bad. Sorry, it’s EXTREMELY BAD at that circus. And I cried and cried whenever I read LFS, but some fanfictions just go waaaay further than the original story confirms the circusーand the world in generalーhas done to Red.

We don’t ever see the Cook poisoning Red or Red recalling he had glass shards or cyanide (smells like almond) in his soup. In fact, it is shown Red has no qualms digging his spoon into his food. He just digs in right away because he’s so hungry he could eat a horse. Yep. I’m still talking about the Red. 

As much as the Ringmaster despised Red, he said it himself he still wants to work Red to the bone until he earns back the gold he paid to buy Red. So why kill Red now when you can still exploit him? After all, who’d do all the errands if Red is six feet under?

Though the Ringmaster did change his mind at the end and threw Red to the lions, that’s after he thought Red had killed Mana and Allen, his top money-spinner. Other than that, he tolerated Red enough to let him live, at the least.

Another thing is sometimes people would have Red mention churches and mental institutions trying to burn or imprison him, but actually, Red remembers nothing but the circus he now lives in and he has never left the circus for the outside world (except of course the occasional supplies-run with the Cook). So how could he have been through all that?

And no, no-one has sexually assaulted Red, either. Not even Cosimo. Red himself never once mentioned anything of the sort in his narrative/thoughts. One might argue it could’ve happened off-screen, but Red would definitely have recalled such a horrifying experience if it had happened, right? 

I’ve seen many fanfictions that has Allen revisiting his old circus (which I will rant about in the next point) and reliving how he was used by the disgusting men there. No, this has not happened to Red. Cosimo beats him regularly, and he is mostly ignored by the other members of the circus, but no one has ever abused him in that way. No! They are disgusted of him and they shun him. That is all.

I’d guess this last part is probably the influence of the legendary Mana, which describes Allen’s long history of sexual abuse in gruesome yet ingenious detail. That fiction was a masterpiece and I read through it despite usually reading only canon. But canon!Red and Mana!Allen is separate, my lads!!

3. The old circus is gone and Cosimo is DEAD. Pe-ri-od. (HOORAY!)

Yes, some fics had Allen meeting Cosimo again in a literal trip down nightmare-fuel memory lane, or musing that Cosimo is probably still alive, and I’d only stumbled upon this mistake recently when I re-read LFS.

This is impossible, you see: Cosimo died along with the other troupe members when the Millennium Earl attacked with his Akuma army, which is disguised as the audience. In fact, as Cosimo is ranting about the show starting without him and stepped onto the stage first, I’d even say he’s the first poof.

Everyone who was in the backstage (which is basically pretty much everyone in the troupe, as Cosimo had called them all in to hear him frame Red for Allen’s murder), save for Mana, died from the hail of Akuma bullets. The only survivors of that night were Red, the Ringmaster and the two performers he had ordered to drag Red to the lions, because they’re in a different place: the warehouse. And of course Mana, because Cross stepped in just in time.

So if you’re going for canon, let’s leave Cosimo in his grave. 

4. Red is truly, EXTREMELY scared of Cosimo

Like, sh*t-his-pants scared.

Well, who can blame him? He’s scrawny, crippled and freaking seven-years-old and the wanker would stomp the daylights out of him if he merely looks at him wrong, and he knew nobody would ever stand up for him.

Nobody...at least until Allen the Dog comes along.

Simply the sight of Cosimo emerging from a tent sent him screaming and hiding behind a tree. Simply the sight of Cosimo standing before him sent his hand trembling. When Cosimo is annoyed his breakfast isn’t served first, Red all but hightail it outta there for dear life.

Red avoids Cosimo as much as he could and would not seek to prolong their interactions or annoy him by talking back.

Red’s friendship with Allen is the only thing that gave him courage to stand up to Cosimo in the end, and when he accused Cosimo of killing Allen, that’s the first and only time we see him actually verbal-sparring with the wicked clown.

5. Red is very quiet and reclusive, and polite when necessary.

No matter how bad they treated him, Red does not talk brashly with the circus troupe members. He talks in polite form (keigo) to the cook, the jugglers, the Ringmaster, as of course he needed food and a roof to live under, and he doesn’t want to be socked (though he did look sullen in general).

And most importantly, it was as Red has always told himself: Things have always been like this, and he’s used to it. (yes, yes, we later know he’s just trying to be strong and he’s really very sad, but you know what I mean XD.)

So no point ranting a paragraph at them, obviously. Red understands already that it has to be this way. So why the rant? Why ALL the rants?

He also avoid interactions unless truly necessary; they ignored him, and he never speaks to anyone first. He doesn’t care about anyone back then. When he does speak, he speaks shortly. If he realizes that even if he speaks for himself, no-one would listen to or believe him, then he won’t waste his breath.

No lengthy tirades about how churches would attempt to burn him and Cosimo would beat him up or that it’s not his fault in the least and Cosimo has framed him and all that blah blah blah blah blah...(seriously, why would he spill this many beans to people he just met and did not yet trust, like Komui?)

//Even when he’s grown up and became the Allen we know, he’s almost never shown talking about his life at the circus, or even what happened to Mana to anyone, for that matter (Link said so!). Yes, he told Lenalee how he travelled with his adopted parent, but it was only happy and funny stories, and he told Bookman how his eye became cursed, but that’s just because Bookman asked and he couldn’t possibly wriggle out of answering. I seriously wonder if anyone knows his full bio except Cross, the Bookmen and the church authorities. It’s simply too painful and he’d only just come to terms with it recently, when he mused about Mana to Link.//

The exception to all this is probably Mana, and that is because he is the first person Red decided to go talk to. And this is solely because Mana is Allen’s owner, and Red is simply curious as to what kind of person he is like. He probably knows Mana is a decent person, being Allen’s owner and the brilliant new clown and all, and so is not afraid to talk casually (and quite a bit roughly) around him.

Anyway, most little boys pretty much talk like that in Japanese. It’s not as if Red’s that much ruder than any normal kid his age, in my opinion. 

At least, Red hasn’t called anyone a “*bleep*head” like that antisocial little chopped-hair, girly-faced douchebag we all love, either. So no need for the T-rating and tone down his language, please, dear DGMers.

.....End of rant! Will keep adding more if I could think of anything else!

Thanks for bearing with this crazy fangirl!

[loose-leaf-teacanons]

Can you do also kikasa for the otp questions please?

1. Who liked the other first?

Kise. XD He’s not even surprised by it initially, because he gets temporary mini-crushes on people who impress him really easily, especially if they give him a hard time. With Kasamatsu, it’s kind of embarrassing, though – the guy is his captain, and a sour-faced hardass, and he’s not that impressive, okay, self??? Just because he ripped you a new one on your first day doesn’t mean he’s worthy of the dokis! You have standards!

He fully expects the stupid mini-crush to fade, and maybe it would, except Kasamatsu-senpai– (what the hell, self?! could you stop getting the dokis from calling somebody “senpai”? Urgh! …okay could you at least stop getting the dokis harder? /Please/?).

Well, except Kasamatsu-senpai keeps doing all those things Kise never even knew he needed (except for the whole throwing-stuff-at-his-head, though okay, if Kise is perfectly, entirely honest, sometimes he needs that, too. But don’t tell Senpai!!!), and he’s so passionate about basketball, and he works so hard, and he looks after everyone, and he’s got kind of a cute smile (one that sits a bit crooked like it’s not sure it should be staying on his face), and he’s actually pretty cool to be around, and he doesn’t talk down to Kise at all even though he’s really big on the senpai-kouhai stuff, and there’s something about his hard-won but earnest praise that makes Kise want to try ten times harder every time he’s on the receiving end of it, and how weird is that?

It doesn’t fully click for Kise until the Interhigh, where he ends up so taken care of and comforted (and he didn’t even know that was possible after failing to win, because at Teiko you just didn’t fail, period), only to then catch a glimpse of all the hurt and disappointment and frustration that Kasamatsu-senpai went off to bear alone, without letting on how he’s feeling to anyone, and that’s… yep, that’s the sound of Kise’s heart breaking.

That’s when he’s hit with something he hasn’t ever felt before, this overwhelming urge to not just bask in somebody’s company, care and attention but to give something back to them, to do even a little bit for them what they do for him.

That’s the moment it kind of starts dawning on him that this is love. He’s always thought of love as this burst-into-song thing with lots of flirting and pursuing and hearts and flowers and dates, that he never even thought it would actually be this, this “I will protect you and your happiness even if I die trying and even if you never know about it (actually it’s better if you don’t or you’d throw a basketball at me >.>) and I can’t imagine anything better than just seeing you proud and victorious and content.”

So yes, suffice it to say, he is so very, very screwed.

Kasamatsu, for his part, has Kise rather firmly in his “kouhai” drawer the entire time. Yeah, Kise’s special to him (special in the head! *eyeroll*), someone he feels responsible for and who is actually a good kid and pretty good company once you get at the passionate, hard-working, sharp personality buried under all that Teikou crap and the celebrity bullshit.

It’s not until he leaves for university that Kise even gets shuffled into the “friend” drawer (though they’ve been friends before that, obviously, it’s just Kasamatsu’s archaic and painfully earnest idea of senpai-kouhai dynamics that stops him from thinking of them as such), and sure, it’s probably a bit weird for Kise to remain so attached to him (seriously, did I clock him on the head too hard or something?), and it’s probably considerably weirder that Kasamatsu remains attached right back, but whatever, right?

And if he calls him rather more than he calls anyone else, if he schedules all his course load and homework so they get the occasional free weekend to meet up, if he shows up to watch all of Kaijou’s championship matches without fail, if he keeps sending Kise music mixes and remembering his birthday when he can’t remember anyone else’s without consulting his phone first (including his own; July… somethingsomething, right? *checks ID card*), well… anyway, that’s just how it’s always been with Kise.

(That sound you’re hearing, btw, is Moriyama and Kobori synchro-smacking their heads against the wall)

So yeah, Kise has his work cut out for him. XD

2. Where is their ‘special spot’?

Where indeed, senp– ow. Mean!

Kidding aside, I don’t think they really have one. Kise is always drawn to new places – he’s like a human Siri for trendy cafés, shops, movie theaters, music venues, etc. Kasamatsu calls it a skill that’s both amazingly useless and uselessly amazing, and Kise just sticks his tongue out because whatever, Senpai, you just admitted I’m amazing~~~! *sidesteps rib jab*

Kasamatsu himself tends to attach more significance to the events/memories than the places they happened in.

3. How do they cheer one another up?

Depends on what’s wrong, tbh. Kise is kind of a melodramatic handful to begin with, and he can bitch endlessly about small things like some kind of workplace rivalry or whatever, though in such cases he’s usually content to fling himself on the couch in an epic fit of pique and complain about it loudly and emphatically.

Kasamatsu will mostly leave him to it and go about whatever it was he was doing before Kise made his dramatic entrance, and then come back a couple of minutes later and be like, “So, you good?” (and Kise will whine for a while about how callous and disinterested Yukio-san is in his terrible plight, you go to get coffee while the light of your life is suffering from the cruelty and injustice of the wo–ow ow ow not my nooooose!!!)

But yeah, it’s easy to tell when Kise is truly upset because his entire being just dims. In those instances, Kasamatsu doesn’t say much, just holds Kise as he attempts to fold up all 189 cm of himself against Kasamatsu’s chest and maybe have a good cry. Kise will usually tell him what’s wrong after he’s all cried out, and Kasamatsu just stays and listens and tries to help him untangle whatever issue it was for as long as it takes.

Kasamatsu’s upsets are really quiet, and tense, and you can just watch the furrow in his brow deepen, and every fiber of his being tightening, and still he doesn’t say anything and keeps it to himself out of some idiotic idea that he has to be strong and work it all out himself. It’s incredibly frustrating for Kise, who knows he’s not nearly as experienced at comforting people or that good with giving advice, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try, dammit!

What usually happens is he human-barnacles himself to Kasamatsu before he can vibrate out of his skin from all the tension, puts his chin on Kasamatsu’s head and tells him to talk, Yukio-san in a tone that brooks no argument, so Kasamatsu eventually deflates and does.

4. What is their favourite movie to watch together?

They like watching action comedies and sports movies together (and man do they love to rant about how inaccurate the latter often are, seriously, that coach should be fired for such an untenable training regimen and that captain is a complete idiot).

Kise also loves cheesy romance movies and tearjerky K-dramas, though those frustrate Kasamatsu endlessly with their idiotic cliché plots and people’s inability to just fucking talk to each other, what the fuck, so he usually goes to do something else while Kise catches up with the 537th episode of Passion Island or whatever.

Though occasionally he can’t help but overhear something or other and comments on it semi-automatically from across two rooms, like telling the crying heroine to “Just dump that guy, he’s a fucker” and he’s not even doing it to be a smart-ass or anything – like for a moment he’s genuinely giving advice to this idiot character he doesn’t even care about, and Kise suddenly can’t with the cute.

5. When did they know that they are each other’s soul mate?

Oh good god, no. I mean, Kise will sometimes jokingly call them soul mates, but as romantic as that concept is in the context of a movie, he much prefers this relationship where they have to compromise and learn to fit around each other’s little quirks and smooth out each other’s edges, and sometimes they fight, too, but that’s all part of what makes working things out together so worthwhile.

Kasamatsu just doesn’t get the concept, not even in a fictional sense, and it continues to baffle him that people like Moriyama can actually go on a hunt for a “soul mate” in real life, honestly, are you an idiot??? He just finds it so unrealistic that people expect to find someone “perfect” for them, and then have a crisis at the first sign of disagreement or whine about actually having to put in an effort. Moro––hmmmfhfhgh! *snogged within an inch of his life by Kise*

6. Where do they primarily kiss one another out in public? Examples forehead, cheek, hand etc.

They usually don’t? Kasamatsu gets easily embarrassed by PDA in general, plus they’re both mindful of the fact that Kise is becoming an increasingly public figure (once his career really takes off), and one thing they can both do without is having their relationship splayed out and picked apart in stupid gossip columns or lived through vicariously by crazy fans or whatever.

That said, Kise is really good at picking moments or places where nobody’s paying attention. Kasamatsu has found himself tugged into alcoves and behind clothes racks, or pecked in the half-second before he gets out of the car, and then he has to spend fifteen minutes getting rid of his flaming face. Urgh.

7. Who goes all out for the other persons birthday?

Nah. They’re both pretty low-key with each other. It’s all small, practical gifts and cake, mostly. Sometimes they’ll organize old team get-togethers for the occasion, but yeah, it’s all pleasantly uncomplicated.

8. Whose clothes is too big for the other, but they wear them anyway?

I’ve said it before, but I will say it again: Kise is simply heart-broken that Kasamatsu refuses to wear any of his clothes, and that he himself is too big to fit any of Kasamatsu’s. Sometimes he’ll steal a sweater to drape over his shoulders and be all pouty because that’s the best he can manage.

9. Who is the one who stays up late baking brownies and dancing in their underwear wearing a baggy shirt, and who is the one who comes down to see the other being all cute?

I’m sorry, I still find the idea kinda creepy in general. XD And they? Are so not the type to do this, even if this were a thing people actually did.

10. Would they cuddle even though it is super hot outside?

Kise tries, peels away ten seconds later to complain about how it’s too hot to do this, tries again half a minute later only to establish that it’s still too hot to do this, and this’ll go on until Kasamatsu threatens to dump his ass on the floor.

[xheartsigh]

high on fairy dust

sugakookie oneshot, ~5k, fluff, fantasy au, college au

a.k.a in which fictional characters are born into the real world after they die and that’s how art student jungkook meets fairy yoongi

There are several ways Jungkook would describe Suga: ethereal, unearthly, out of this world. Which he kind of really is.

He was his best friend and loyal companion during kindergarten. The one you build fictional worlds with. He was also the one whom little 6 years old Jungkookie first cried over when he died in the webtoon. Such a cruel fate for the lovely, pointy eared, mint haired character. Jungkook remembered sending a letter with his mother to the writer that she cannot do this. She can’t just let Suga die. His family still like to tease him about how much he adored that comics and grew attached to one of the side characters. Still, his imaginary friend felt too real to not to be true but he grew up knowing it wasn’t real. Wings was just a story and Suga was just a character, a fragment of his imagination.

That's why Jungkook is absolutely sure he must be dreaming. Because there's no way Suga is standing right in front of him in the hallway of the university and looking at him expectantly like it's no big deal.

He’s a little shorter with a more fragile posture but still a nice figure. Confidence radiating from the way he stands with straight back and hands hovering over his bag. His skin is pale and he has long, musician fingers. His hair is faded green with a touch of silver and the colour of his dark leather jacket hardens the soft edges of his face. Maybe it's the contrast or the lights above that make his eyes glimmering with dying stars of the universe. He's so, so... beautiful.

“What?” The grumble shakes him to the core. The voice is low and smooth. No wonder it takes him a few seconds to realize what happened. WHAT? Did he really just say that out loud?

Jungkook wants to facepalm himself because wow, that's a new record, he made a fool out of himself in a span of a minute.

“Yeah... um... the lights, you know and the colours...” he murmurs awkwardly.

Gosh, now he's rambling while Suga looks him straight in the eye with a frown on his face. Jungkook wishes that the ground would shallow him up to make him stop before the situation gets even more awkward. The guy - because no matter how much he resembles Suga, he can't be him, that's not possible, right? - is surely not interested in his mumbling so he shuts up and hangs his head to look at their shoes. While he wears his favourite Timberland boots, the light haired guy has Converse and light blue jeans on that reveal a slight stripe of his ankles. Right, he can't be... because Suga never wore shoes.

“You're Jeon Jungkook, right?” The stranger asks straightforwardly and Jungkook snaps out of his thoughts. He lifts his head up so fast he's almost sure he got a whiplash. He lets out a non-coherent grunt while his mind is hyperventilating at the question how? How does he know him? Like at all because he’s deadly sure they have never met before and it’s unlikely that they have the same class...

“Did you draw this?” The used-to-be wild mint haired guy shoves a picture to his face from the last issue of the university’s magazine that stops Jungkook’s train of thoughts before it gets crazier. On the photo there’s one of his experiments with a new technique using only colourful pens without black ink. It made everything look softer and his Graphical Design professor liked it so much he included it in said magazine.

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods slowly because there’s no point of denying. The string of his name is printed on the corner of the page.

The guy hums in recognition and stuffs the paper into his back pocket.

“Do you do commissions?”

“I don't even know who you are,” Jungkook deadpans out of a knee jerk reaction because well, he’s awkward with strangers. Especially with attractive, ‘hey, you look like a fairy from a webtoon’ kind of strangers and he panics.  Luckily, the other guy doesn’t scoff at his rudeness, instead he extends his right hand waiting for him to take it.

“Min Yoongi, fourth year in music production and I need an album cover. Now that you know me, can we talk?”

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 They end up in a café shop nearby the university. It seems Yoongi is a regular here because the pretty cashier girl beams at him immediately when they step inside. She looks a lot like those cosplay artists around the campus with her bright blue bob hair. Yoongi orders ‘the usual’ and then looks questioningly behind him where Jungkook immediately get flustered but manages to stammer out an ‘Americano, please’.

On the way here they haven’t exchanged any words so Jungkook doesn’t know what to say or how to start. He’s still kind of lost between the He can’t be Suga and the Oh man holy shit, someone want to pay for my art phrases.

“Sooo whose album are we talking about?” he singsongs dragging out the first syllable as soon as they seat at a table next to the window with their drinks. “I should at least know the genre and maybe a sneak-peek could also help so that I know what kind of cover would be the best...”

And there he is rambling once again. He quickly grabs hold off himself looking down to his cup and takes a sip of his coffee which is so hot, hot, hot it burns his tongue.

The other guy chuckles, not out of spite but rather a little amused. Jungkook feels relieved, maybe he hasn’t messed up his chances of getting paid yet.

“Mine. And it’s actually a mixtape,” Yoongi replies with ease while his fingers are tapping on the plastic table. He has delicate fingers, the younger notes observing the multiple silver rings on the other’s hand. One of them looks like a curved angel wing.

“Oh.” For a moment, Jungkook forgets about comparing and stares at the guy bewilderedly. “So you rap.”

It’s a statement but sounds like a question and the musician raises an eyebrow.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am not. Not really,” he protests because he doesn’t want to seem like that person. The one who judges at first sight. But he also tries to be honest. “Well, okay, yes. In my mind rappers are big bad boys with golden chains and you don’t really look like that.”

Yoongi unconsciously touches his pastel coloured locks.

“Well, not everything is what it seems,” he mutters and sips a little from his drink. From the way the golden coffee stirs it looks like liquid caramel or melted sugar. The epitome of sweetness. A little whipped cream sticks on the corner of Yoongi’s mouth and Jungkook knows he’s doomed because he likes sweet things way too much.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 Later that week he gets an e-mail with an attachment named agustd_sample.zip.

Just tell me how much time you need and name a price. - MYG

It’s short and straightforward with no emojis, strictly business which makes Jungkook panic. What if he will ruin everything and his drawing will be lame? What if nobody ever wants to work with him again? What if he will blurt out something stupid like ‘I like your hair’? The too many what if scenarios make him cringe and he hits the play button as soon as the software is done uncompressing the folder. For a moment he stills when he hears the first loud beats. It’s definitely not what he expected.

For someone who looks so soft, Yoongi has a way with raw and harsh words that pull the strings of your heart. Only a five minutes preview of a whole mixtape made Jungkook realise that there are dozens of untold stories behind those onyx eyes. Maybe he’s a bit rough around the edges and they only met once but the younger wants to peel off the layers one by one.

Two weeks at tops and you’ll pay depending on how much you like it - JJK

Ps. I liked the sample. Can’t wait to hear it all.

No, it’s too much. Keep it professional! Don’t let your inner fanboy break out.

Ps. You’re talented.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 After agreeing on the job Jungkook finds out that it’s rather easy to bump into Min Yoongi. Especially in the coffee shop where the musician often holes himself up with his laptop, earbuds plugged in to work on a new track. It’s silently becomes a routine that he sits across the older and scrabbles a few sketches in his notebook constantly asking for opinions.

By the end of the week Jungkook has dozens of drafts. Half of them are full of dark colours with edgy figures and symbols. The other half has watercolours, soft patterns but scrawled font scribbled onto the background creating a contrast. Jungkook isn't satisfied with either. The mixtape is so complex, nothing seems to do it justice.

“Stop whining and draw the first thing that comes to your mind,” Jimin, one of his crazy roommates groans after Jungkook throws another creased paper towards the bin and misses it. Their dorm’s floor became literally an ocean of dismissed ideas.

“I can’t,” the younger boy utters a theatrical sigh burying his head into his paint and ink marked hands. “He’d glare me to death if I drew him with wings. It has nothing to do with the album and on the top of it, it’s weird.”

The look Jimin gives him is close to stunned and rolls his eyes scenically.

“You’re still hung up on the Suga thing? I told you he may be cosplaying 24/7 or he’s a loyal fanboy like yourself.”

Laughter starts scratching Jungkook’s throat at that and he chuckles in the end.

“Unlikely but thanks, hyung.”

“You’re welcome,” his roommate replies but not really pays attention as he scrolls down on his phone until he looks up confused.  “But for what?”

Even if it’s not for wings but maybe Jungkook has another idea that might work. He grabs a pencil and engrosses himself in creating again.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 Suga in the webtoon was a little mischievous character, sometimes sassy but warm-hearted no less. Yoongi is a little more laid-back, reserved, and really hard to see through. He’s so much more than what first meets the eye. There’s a whole different atmosphere around him. Even when he’s just walking carelessly, there’s grace in his every move as if he was walking on thin air. The way he carries himself doesn’t attract a lot of attention because he’s like smoke: just there and then gone. Yet, he always finds himself in the company of little birds and colourful butterflies even in the colder season. He isn’t even aware or at least he said so when Jungkook jokingly claimed it's because of his hair colour. For someone who says he doesn’t care and acts all mighty about it, he's doing a pretty good job at feeding the campus’ birds with his half-eaten sandwiches. Sometimes Jungkook even catches him humming a melody to himself and it looks like he's not doing it on purpose, just out of habit. The song is melancholic and nostalgic yet his warm tone could make flowers bloom. Yoongi always smells faintly like blossoms, nothing artificial but more like that rich wildflower scent that you can't buy as cologne. Jungkook slowly gets addicted.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 It's the first time Yoongi visits Jungkook’s dorm. It's not planned, just a spontaneous idea of checking out a few drafts and sketches because the artist has to make sure they match the rapper's idea. When the idea of visiting popped out of his head in the coffee shop he really didn't think this through because the moment they step into the tiny room he shares with two equally crazy guys, Taehyung and Jimin, Yoongi halts. Jungkook is in the middle of explaining some techniques he used when he notices the sudden movement - the lack of it, actually - and turns to the other guy in surprise. Yoongi isn’t looking at him but stares at his wall covered by his drawings. He follows his gaze mindlessly, already fearing what caught the older’s attention because in the chaos there's an especially big and detailed piece. Of no other than his beloved webtoon character, Suga.

He faintly remembers the assignment he did last year and how his professor adored this picture. He was as well proud of this spring festival themed work of him. It portrayed the minty haired fairy smiling toothy with a lovely flower crown on his head and fireworks in the background. But the essential part of the drawing was his wings: the almost transparent, barely there light blue and green touches of human sized butterfly wings as it was showed in the comics. It was a little more than a fanart, almost worship and maybe that's why Jungkook flushed to tomato red as soon as he realized why Yoongi’s steps died.

In the last few weeks he stopped comparing Yoongi and Suga, almost forgetting about their obvious similarities. Almost because right now he's painfully aware of the fact as Yoongi watches the picture. It looks like him. A lot.

“It's not what you think. It's not you. He's a webtoon character, you know…” Jungkook finally catches his breath and that’s all he can manage to say to save the situation. And he’s doing a terrible job of it. He knows he’s stumbling over his words and his ears are scarlet because embarrassment choose this exact moment to come over him. But God is gracious as Yoongi interrupts him before he could make an even bigger fool out of himself.

“It's pretty.”

“Hah?”

To say that he’s dumbfounded is an understatement and he just stares at the boy analysing his work.

“You're talented,” the musician mimics his exact words from the e-mail while running his fingers through his silky, light-coloured locks. Jungkook faintly wonders how soft they must be and his palm starts itching. He’s never been more grateful for the sudden change in topics. “So where are those album cover drafts?”

Oh yeah, the drafts. That’s why they originally came for before the artist got a mini mental breakdown. Yoongi hums while looking at the drawings, sometimes points out a ‘that’s good’ or ‘not bad’ but his gaze is always flickers back to the picture on the wall. Jungkook can’t quite decipher the look in his eyes but that tiny little sly smile in the corner of his mouth gives him away.

After discussing the concept once again, the passion that is evident in Yoongi’s expression is all what it takes for Jungkook to finally finish a cover that he’s proud of. It only takes 3 hours to draw and digitalize the whole piece. It's like a vision with a boy on the top of an overturned truck with the silver moon above and fireflies around while the city behind him is on fire.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 “I like this one the most,” Jungkook points at a song title when he gets the honour of visiting Yoongi at his made-shift little studio and listening to the whole mixtape.

“It's just the interlude,” the rapper furrows his eyebrows while stretching in his chair. He looks so soft with his fluffy freshly washed hair in his oversized hoodie. Maybe the younger found him intimidating (for one tiny millisecond before the realization of his resemblance with Suga struck him) but now he knows Min Yoongi is such a softie. No wonder why he has forest flavoured candles, cactuses and a huge Kumamon plushie in his studio.

“I know but it makes me feel like home,” Jungkook shrugs lightly and he thinks Yoongi’s eyes are saying ‘Me, too’.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 It’s a surprise visit. A never-expected one leading to even less expected events.

It happens when he sneezes. First, Jungkook think it’s just flower pollen but then Yoongi coughs a little and suddenly tiny golden crystals swirling in the air and that can’t be solemnly because of the ridiculous amount of flowers in the apartment. It looked more like a flower shop than a home of two university students but Jungkook always thought that it’s maybe because of Yoongi’s roommate.

“You... are you okay?” Jungkook takes a step closer so he can check the look on the older.

Is he sick? Or… maybe he really just takes this cosplay thing way too seriously? Recently he found himself agreeing with Jimin. Maybe he’s right after all because the other day Jungkook would have sworn he had seen pointy ears under Yoongi’s hair. And now this weird, not quite known where is it coming from substance?

“Yeah, fine, don't worry,” Yoongi dismisses his stupid question with a wave. He looks around searching for a broom but Jungkook won't shut up.

“But... but you sneeze glittering stuff. That's not normal. That's exactly what fairies do in comics kind of not normal,” he adds half-jokingly half seriously but doesn't expect an explicit answer.

Meanwhile the silence is a quiet pray while Yoongi cast down his eyes.

“Yeah, I know that,” he sighs. Okay, so he knows that. That’s not mind-blowing or anything because if he’s really a fan of Wings, he should know about this little detail but the look on this face tells otherwise. It’s like something is cracking inside of him. A kind of resolve. He shrugs. “It happens.”

“You…” Jungkook isn’t sure he can process what's going on anymore. He gapes at the other guy like fish do. He feels like a broken record played too many times. “Are you for real? Is it really fairy dust? Are you really a fairy?”

The last question is almost inaudible because suddenly he feels shy and very self-aware of the craziness of the situation. You don’t just go to a stranger, more like a friend but not quite asking them if they’re fairies. It cannot happen… right?

Yoongi’s disbelieving snort is comforting in a way. Maybe he’s just dreaming or hallucinating. Jungkook doesn’t know anymore which one would be worse… or better.

“Not just any fairy, thank you very much,” the faded mint-haired boy’s huff is downright resentful as if any other implication was insulting. Then he adds something in a lighter, pleading voice. Like a wish. “You know who I am.”

Jungkook violently shakes his head. He doesn’t know anything, he thinks too much and understands too little. But then Yoongi steps closer smelling like wildflowers and his eyes are the most beautiful chocolate seas the younger has ever seen. Yet, the most amazing and unbelievable thing happens when the older’s bare feet touches the wooden ground leaving growing flowers behind. At the sight, the artist feels out of balance and he really needs someone to slap him awake.

“Suga?” he tries faintly and sounds unsure with his voice uneven and quiet. Yoongi sighs characteristically.

“I thought you’d already figured it out. The picture…”

“Oh no! I told you it's not you,” he protests immediately but bites his lower lip when Yoongi gives him that look. The knowing look Suga always used in the webtoon. The striking similarities finally make sense but not really. How is this even possible? “Well, yeah, it's you after all but it was before we met and I just can't believe…”

As he trails off, Jungkook sits back on his heels to take a closer look at the glittering substance.

“Don't touch the dust!” Yoongi… Suga warns him hurriedly and sounds just a little bit worried. “In an intense dose it makes you high.”

“Oh so it's all true? It happened because I surprised you?” Jungkook looks up curiously. In the webtoon fairies emitted fairy dust when they had high adrenaline level which was produced by sudden emotions such as fear, surprise or even love.

“Let’s say that. I can’t control it,” the fairy boy grumbles out in an undeniably uncomfortable manner. Suddenly, his elfish ears stick out in a way that can’t go unnoticed anymore. The younger wonders how he could not notice them for so long. “Come on I'll give you some herb tea so you don't faint and I'll explain everything.”

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 “People see what they want to see. The universe doesn't want them to freak out and hunt us down. It's in the balance. Those who die in a fictional world, get another chance in the real one.”

They sit on the coach in the living room of Yoongi and his roommate’s apartment and the fairy tries his best to explain everything to the overly eager and quite shocked boy who seems like never running out of questions.

“But-but what if the antagonist die?” Jungkook blinks innocently because the thought of story-escaped magical creatures and evil characters running around freely in the world is a little bit scary. Yes, even for a webtoon-lover, comics scribbling enthusiastic like him, okay? Especially for him who knows exactly what it’s like to create a world with a few words or strokes and how easy it is to destroy it with another.

“Oh there's another factor. People have to think the characters didn't deserved death,” Yoongi adds and the younger is quick to agree.

“You didn't.”

“Thanks,” the fairy murmurs. His voice is soft and grateful. “Maybe that's why I'm here.”

What he doesn’t say: maybe you’re the reason why I’m still here.

Jungkook is never the one who can be satisfied with only the outlines. He needs more than just the highlights, he needs circumstances, details and colours.

“And then what? You just woke up in this world?”

“Well, it's a little more difficult than that. It's magic after all,” Yoongi shrugs and with a flick of his finger tiny snowflakes starts raining down on them. In the webtoon, fairies wasn’t only associated with spring and warm but every aspect of nature. The winter wonders were portrayed just as beautiful as blooming flowers in summer. Like it should be. “Yeah, I woke up in a bed like it was just a dream. The family I was assigned to and everyone involved believed I was always here and it was easy to forget about my earlier life. I only remembered while I was dreaming until I met Seokjin.”

“Your roommate? Is he a…” Jungkook blinks in surprise and tears his gaze away from the snowfall. He’s still processing that all of it is real.

“Yeah, he is. I mean Jin is definitely not a fairy but he also came from a book. He was once a prince if you wonder. He introduced me to others like us. Sunny is a mermaid and Jackson is a lame excuse of a warlock,” he scoffs trying to mask his amusement as he mentions familiar names. After a few moments of silence he lowers his gaze from the snowflakes to glance at the boy sitting on the other side of the couch. “But I’ve never met any human before who could see through the Mist.”

“The Mist?” the younger frowns at him at the weird word.

“It makes ordinary what isn't in people’s eyes,” Yoongi nods and then laughs. “Like last year, that earthquake in Japan. That was a dragon on loose actually.”

Jungkook faintly remembers the destruction caused by the unpredictable volcanic activity. Then it all makes sense; that’s why he didn’t see the extraordinary and odd signs around.

“Oh... Like your ears,” he murmurs.

“What about them?”

“They're pointy but I couldn’t see them for a while.”

“Yeah, just like that,” the older looks him in the eye. Maybe he just wants to see what changed. How could these pretty dark orbs resembling so much to chocolate brownies suddenly reveal a whole new world? But his gaze is so blunt and he stares for so long that it makes Jungkook blush. It makes him think even wilder things.

“Please…” he pleads because he doesn’t really know how to put his request into words.

“What?” Yoongi gapes at him which makes him gulp. For a few moments he’s hesitating: should he say it or should he keep it to himself? It’ll sound weird but the what if is worse, isn’t it? He’ll lose either way so he gives it a chance.

“Let me see your wings,” he blurts out with reddening cheeks.

The fairy looks taken aback at the sudden request and shakes his head vigorously.

“No.” It’s harsh and definite but Jungkook doesn’t know how to give up.

“Hyung…” he pouts.

“Maybe you won't even see them.”

It doesn’t work. Jungkook has the same determination in his eyes that he has when he draws, it’s like chasing perfection. And now he’s cheating, using his cute puppy eyes to manipulate the older’s weak, sensitive heart.

“Okay,” he sighs and grabs the hem of his shirt with fidgeting fingers. Quickly like he wants to get over it as soon as possible he pulls it up so the material rolls up on his back revealing his smooth white skin under.

But nothing else. No wings.

“Oh,” Jungkook puffs and disappointment is boiling inside him while Yoongi looks like he's afraid he freaked him out.

“Is it that bad? I think they're pretty but I…”

The younger hangs his head down and even if he doesn’t say it out loud, his tone is apologetic. “I can't see them.”

“O-oh... I told you so,” Yoongi whispers but he looks even more disappointed.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 “You’re staring.”

It should sound like an accusation but it doesn’t even compare.

“Your hair is pink now,” Jungkook states in awe eyeing the pastel colours of the fairy’s locks while he watches him work.

“Nice observation, Sherlock. Now can you stop staring?” Yoongi shuffles a little uneasy and clicks a few buttons to arrange the vocal levels. The edge of his voice is not that intimidating as it once was. Since he has nothing to hide from the younger, he acts more Suga-like and doesn’t even care explaining himself when sometimes the artist catches him floating a few inches above the ground or leaving flowers petals all over the floor. It’s only been a few weeks since the big revelation but Jungkook still can’t get over the fact that he’s friends with a fairy, not to mention his favourite webtoon-character ever!

“No,” Jungkook replies without a second thought before he can stop himself and immediately has an internal mental breakdown.

Yoongi makes an unamused grunt and looks away. But hey, is that a blush creeping its way on his cheeks? Blame his pale skin that gets rosy too easy. Blame the heater that works overtime in this cold weather. Blame anything but his irregular heartbeats and the subtle (and not-so-subtle) fleeting touches that leave behind goosebumps in their wake when Jungkook sits just a little bit too close.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 The two of them spend more and more time together even after Jungkook’s commission is long over (and no, he didn’t let the rapper pay instead he asked him to go get lamb skewers together). There’s still no end of the younger’s curiosity. He wants to know everything about the world Yoongi came from (Is it true that you only drank flower nectar?) and what happened to him after he woke up here (What made you pursue music?). When he asks ’do you only date fairy girls?’ Yoongi can’t help but laugh. Jungkook doesn’t know what it means.

To be honest, he doesn’t know a lot of things. He’s too young and awkward, making a fool out of himself too often but he wears his heart on his sleeves and he’s passionate about the things he likes. The people he likes… loves. He’s just a boy but in a sense of the word Yoongi is too but in-between late night talks and surprise back hugs under magical crystals none of it matters at all.

Once Jungkook asks tremblingly if he misses the other world and Yoongi looks at him for a long time before replying. ‘No’ is an answer of a character destined for a tragic end and a man who found what he was looking for among humans. This is the reason why he prefers to be called Yoongi and not Suga anymore.

Sometimes it makes Jungkook wonder why can't they move on, why are they stuck at the limbo between being strangers, friends and something else, he’s not sure what but something more. Other times he's painfully aware of it: the Mist is still there. Some things he sees, other things he can't see. Yoongi says it’s okay, says that people have a hard time accepting the other world as a whole but Jungkook doesn’t want to be just anybody. When they exchange secret smiles and knowing looks, Yoongi’s eyes whispering ‘not yet’ and the younger becomes anxious. Then when?

Soon. Soon. Soon. The universe tells them when once Jungkook is careless enough to gets high on fairy dust and Yoongi keeps tangling his fingers in his hair while the younger sleeps off the aftermath in his lap.

 ❀ ❀ ❀

 It happens when neither of them thinks about it. They’re watching a movie with the double trouble while eating ice cream in dead ass winter to celebrate the end of their exams. The living room is filled with loud hassle about changing the channel although they’re already in the middle of the film.

“Give it to me…”

“No, you can't switch…”

Typical. Jimin and Taehyung are fighting over the remote control. Again. And it may be a careless limb or perhaps an elbow that knocks the spoon out of Yoongi’s hand but either way it results in the rainbow-coloured ice cream splashing all over the oldest’s shirt.

“Oh shit. Sorry, hyung,” one of them mumbles while the other quickly adds:

“Really sorry, but it was totally Jiminnie's fault.”

While they’re arguing about it, Yoongi just sighs tossing his half-eaten ice cream aside and looks down at his shirt that slowly becomes soaked with the sweet dessert and he feels a little cold.

“Brats,” he just grumbles and stands up not really knowing what to do. Luckily, Jungkook is quick to react.

“You should wash it out before it dries, I'll give a clean one,” he offers like it’s common between them. The clothes-sharing. For a moment, he regrets his straightforwardness but Yoongi sounds grateful.

“Okay,” he nods and shuffles awkwardly to the tiny bathroom.

Meanwhile the younger searches for his smallest shirt to fit Yoongi’s delicate frame which is almost as broad as his but not as built. When he finds a good enough Nirvana tee he passes by the still arguing duo and walks into the bathroom without hesitation. It's a mistake. Definitely, because Yoongi has already took off the damaged shirt and placed in the sink letting the water flow do its job. It shouldn't be a problem, he has seen half-naked men, hell, he has to deal with his roommates on daily basis. But it's Yoongi.

Yoongi who has the nicest curves and the smoothest skin he's ever seen. Not to mention that he has the most beautiful eyes that mirrors his equally breathtakingly gorgeous soul. Suddenly, the line of the fairy’s shoulders goes rigid and Jungkook knows he got caught but doesn't care. Not when he can see it. Them: the wide stretched wings that spout from the hallow between his blade bones. Even now, sniffed with tension they're utterly magical. They're technicolour yet transparent, smooth like silk and fragile like glass at the same time. They tremble a little when Yoongi tears his gaze off the mirror and turns to directly look at Jungkook.

“What?” He rolls his eyes but cannot hide the pink on his cheeks and the younger knows he must be a sight too with his wide eyes and mouth agape.

“They're beautiful,” he whispers the most honest thing ever to the world to know. “You're beautiful.”

They meet somewhere halfway. The kiss is sloppy and overexcited but Jungkook smiles when he feels the fairy wings flutter because of his touch. It’s an act of recklessness and it tastes like the strawberry ice cream they just ate which should be gross but Jungkook doesn't care. Not when Yoongi smells like flowers, fairy dust and home in his arms.