#also i wonder if the finale might stretch a longer span of time than the rest of the season due to the long runtime

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

i can’t tell you how passionately i long for the roy kids to run waystar royco irreparably into the ground by the time the show is over

i get that we might get a more cynical ‘the cycle of abuse goes on forever!’ ending where one of them ascends to the ~throne~

but wouldn’t it just be gorgeous if they burn it all to the ground in record time by trying so hard not to??????? because logan spent so much time playing them against each other, and so now that’s all they know how to do? i want this. i need this in my eyeballs.

[horrorhousereview]

A Quiet Place Series

I thought that the idea of the film was interesting from the onset; a post apocalyptic world in which everyone must be painstakingly quiet at all times, in order to avoid attack from the monsters. Other than that, I knew nothing of what to expect. I went into this series of movies unaware of just how impressed I would be while watching.

A Quiet Place

First and foremost, the atmosphere of the movie was superb, and at first was so eerily peaceful I almost wondered whether it were truly a horror movie. As the film progressed, however, we could sense the mounting tension and the terror the family had of their every move. The film was bold in which characters it took from us, and at one poignant scene toward the end I was surprised to find myself actually crying. All of this is topped off by the fact that the alien monsters themselves, when finally viewed close up and for a longer stretch of time, still held up, were still suitably scary. Including sign language as a significant part of the movie was so well done that I think all studios should take note. I don't have any significant criticisms of the movie at all, though from a horror perspective, it won't be keeping me up at night.

For that reason, I'll give the film a 9/10.

A Quiet Place Part II

Going into the movie, I was intrigued by the ending of the previous film but worried that with the death of a main character that I'd enjoy the movie less. Luckily, said character was still featured in a flash-back, and I also found I enjoyed the sequel quite well without him. Following the deaf girl for the most part, we were led where I'd hoped we would be led -- towards her using her new knowledge of a weapon against the monsters, enabling humanity as a whole to begin to fight back. My only criticism of the sequel, if it can even be called a criticism, is that I could hardly believe the movie was over when it ended. While I usually have a relatively short attention span for movies, and this one was of the usual length, I found it felt as if the time had flown by. I now look forward to the next in the series, wondering what might happen next.

Final rating? 8/10

[angelguk]

oc is back on her bullshit!!! miss out and about im gonna forget about you!! im so sorry for this part actually. descriptions of oc sleeping with someone who is not jaykay (warning!! infidelity but not really). suppressed feelings on jks side. chayoung is still Suspicious. everyone is now mildly shitty actually. roughly 2k. listen to not gonna cry by emma steikbakken and stranger by tove lo.

titled — fuel to the fire

It's been three days since you last spoke to Jeongguk (and four weeks since your break-up). Not about your relationship or the horrendous state your sudden break-up left you in, or about the fact that Jeongguk had moved on before your heart had even registered the cracks he'd left in his wake. No, not that – none of the actual life changing important stuff, only him briefly mentioning that you needed to hand in your event proposal for the student committee before the deadline approached. It was unbelievably strange to watch the person you'd basically surgically attached to your being behave like a complete stranger. It didn't help that he didn't seemed unfazed approaching you, while you on the other hand actively avoided him and all the usual corners of campus where he liked to lurk (which sucked because those corners were some of your favourites places too). But there he was, ambling to you with an ease that made your gut violently twist, acrid bile slithering up your throat.

He'd spoken so freely, the sound of your name on his tongue a brand on your skin. You'd frozen, heart a wild animal locked in your chest, before you could summon the mettle to look him in the face.

The first thing you noted was that his hair was no longer long. Dark locks cropped short around his ears now and casually gelled back, idle strands playfully framing his face. His features are what you settled on next, eager eyes remapping the sharp slope of his nose, easily identifying the sneaky dimple on his cheek begging to burst free and then shifting down to the dark mark right below his soft pink lips.

Your first instinct was to pull him into your arms but they were frozen, glued to the table beneath you before that blinding rage rose it's head, sparking through your veins the longer you looked at him.

He didn't even seem to realise it, rattling off the list of things you needed to email him for the spring scavenger hunt or else the event could be cancelled (which sucked because that was an idea you had created with Jeongguk and now you were stuck carrying the bulk of the event alone).

Your replies had been curt, blunt as they left your lips before you'd pointedly turned away. Maybe if you had looked a little longer you would detected the lingering gaze he granted your features, how he shuffled on his feet, unsure and hesitant, words on his tongue longing to be released. Eventually he had swallowed him down, mumbled a quick goodbye and wandered off, the hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy jeans aching to hold yours again.

You, however, didn't miss the muffled giggles of girls he passed on his way out, a sick icky feeling clogging your throat. You didn't mind the fan girls when you were dating because you knew Jeongguk was yours and yours alone. But now? When he'd moved on not even a weak after your break-up you didn't know how to feel. Jealous, maybe. Furious, absolutely. For a second, you considered throwing your mini stapler at their huddled heads, weighing the odds of possibly going to jail for assault. But there was no reason to truly justify that reaction, not when Jeongguk was single and apparently available for everyone. But did that feeling still brew inside of you? Turning into something black and vile and vengeful? Perhaps.

And maybe that's why you're here now, the body of some boy pressing against yours, your bare back prickling as the night wind grazes against it. The dress you'd plucked from your closet was criminal, clinging to the dips and rounds of your body perfectly, a silky emerald backless piece that shimmered beneath the soft lights of the porch you'd abruptly accoupled. His name might be Lucas – you may have been able to accurately remember that three drinks ago but you're beyond that now. And it didn’t really matter when all you wanted was for him to fuck you. He's also big and huge, massive shoulders caving you in, and his hands is snaking it's way up your thighs, ginger kisses peppered along the span of your neck.

Which is not what you wanted. Not in a one-night stand at least. You don't want soft and gentle, you want something wild – feral even. Something harsh enough to wipe the memory of Jeongguk's hands on your skin, something bright and fierce and new. Something to make you feel alive again.

Lucas gets the hint soon enough, spurred on by the bold movement of your hand guiding his closer, right between your thighs were you wanted him. Deft harsh fingers on your clit followed, pressing against the damp fabric with no remorse. You couldn't help the whimper that floats from your lips, the tension stringing through your limbs finally alleviated.

"Cute," he murmurs, seemly pleased judging from the broad smile that tugs at his lips. You make a noise of agreement in return, drawing in him for a kiss as the pad of this thumb toys with you. There's the sillage of whiskey on his tongue, something that nearly makes you freeze because you're used to tasting that on Jeongguk. But you beat down that apprehension, a muffled moan breaking past your lips when Luca's tongue mets yours.

"My place?" He suggests, lips glimmering from your lip gloss. You smile, a familiar giddiness bubbling in your chest when he shifts a little, hard bulge bumping into the base of your stomach. You give in a little bit more easily than you normally would have, clinging onto his hand as he guides you out of the party towards the neighboring building. Chayoung and Sieun are going to kill you later for this but you simply can't force yourself to care. 

"You're in that frat?" You finally murmur out when he keys himself into the building. Lucas hums, glowing under the moonlight when he smiles at you.

"Mhm, Sigma Chi for life, babe."

Babe. A complete one-eighty from the bunny you'd grown accustomed to.

It hits a little harder when he gets you into his room, the mess unlike anything you'd ever seen at Jeongguk's (he's very anal but his room and how clean it should be, specific down even to the various scents he kept around to ensure the air he breathed was perfect). Lucas was the average frat boy, messy but neat enough that you find yourself naked on his bed a couple moments later, his tongue deep inside of you. Your brain couldn't help but recall the last time a head had settled between your thighs, Jeongguk eager to lick out the pool of cum he'd left there. But this wasn't him and as of five seconds ago you decided you’re no longer allowed to think about him.

Lucas makes it easy, tongue skilled and swift around your clit, a fervour in his movements that leaves you dripping down his chin. Jeongguk evaporates from your mind entirely when Lucas descends on you, his mouth glistening and his tongue tasting of you. His kisses are hungry now, forceful, just what you need. Your palms stray down his wide back, a strange tingle erupting in your gut when your nails dig and he groans right down your throat.

"You're so big," the comment is a mumbled slur, lost in Lucas's mouth. For a second, you think he misunderstands, his hard cock twitching against your thigh. You're actually talking about his shoulders; they're broad, muscles rippling every time he shifts to press you harder into the mattress. You like the weight of him on you, it makes forgetting easier.

But Lucas knows what you're saying, discerning your wandering fingers and clouded eyes well.

"I know," he returns with lopsided smile. "Perks of swimming."

Oh, of course he was an athlete. Maybe you had a type after all.

Before Jeongguk has a moment to resurface Lucas has you in his arms, easily twisting you around so that your face is buried in his sheets. It short-circuits you, brain sparking with how large and huge and strong he feels. The following sudden press of his lips against your ass doesn’t help, your heart thumping loud in your head as your shuffle onto your elbows.

"Good?" Lucas asks, rising to fetch a condom from his drawer.

"Mhm," you return, thighs trembling when he returns. He easily lines himself up with you, the head of his cock pressed into you coaxing a low groan from your throat. The first thrust hurts, probably because you're body isn't as on board with this as you thought. But that changes quick when Lucas's hand slides underneath you, swiftly settling on your clit until you're leaking around his length, skin tight with tension and sweat beading along the length of your back. The stretch feels strange – he's larger than Jeongguk, wider. At first it's too uncomfortable to feel good. Your senses narrow on the sound of your meeting instead, loud and lewd, your pussy squelching with every drag of his cock inside of you. The ripple of your ass helps you relax too, a pleasant almost dizzy feel spreading through your body when Lucas draws you closer, shoving himself deep inside, the whine floating from his lips painting your skin warm. He fucks you hard enough to leave marks, large fingers digger into your hips with every resounding collide of your bodies. You shiver when he finishes, a grimness appearing on your skin. It's vanished by Lucas tugging you close, his mouth light on your lip as he kisses you, cock slowly slipping out.

It feels better the second round. He's perceptive, quickly learning how you like your clit touched, or that you like when his teeth sink into your skin rather hard. You actually cum this time, spread open over his massive strong thighs, his length splitting you open, the stretched welcomed.

You forgot about Jeongguk and your sore heart for a total of two wonderous hours, before your phone starts blaring from your discarded mini-bag on the floor. Lucas is the one that gets it for you.

"Hi?"

"Y/N! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" Chayoung's tone is aggrieved, wavering through the sound of some song blasting in the background.

"Oh. I left." You hope she gets it, doesn't press any further. But what was Chayoung if not a button pusher?

"WHERE? YOU WENT HOME? WHEN?"

"No, I'm not home. And awhile ago." Lucas is pointedly not listening, pattering through the adjacent bathroom of his room. The pressure ebbs when he turns the tap on loud.

"WHAT?"

"I said I'm not home! And please stop yelling!"

There's a loaded pause. You can feel Chayoung thinking through the line. "Okay... Who are you with?"

"Fine, yes I'll meet you there," you say instead, completely ignoring her question. Lucas is out of the bathroom now, massive and still naked as his knee sinks into the mattress. He crawls to you as you scramble to get out, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear. "Yeah, yeah I know I'm sorry. I'll come get you."

"What the hell are you talking about Y/N? Who are you with?" Chayoung's words are bitter now, stinging as they hit your ear.

"Gimme five seconds, I'll be right there," you return, swiftly cutting the call. Chayoung is going to kill you the second you see her but you'd rather attempt to live through that than Lucas overhearing you gossip about him on the phone with your friend. The man in question is watching you with a chary gaze as you hurriedly tug your dress over your head. "Sorry," you supply, pulling the hem down hard over your butt. "My friend needs me."

He nods slow, strawberry blond locks swaying. He's actually very hot, an observation that has you stilling for a second.

"Cool. See you around, yeah?" His eyes are round and big, bright even – almost like Jeongguk's. That breaks the spell.

"Yeah, see you around." And then you take the chance to flee, bag swung over your shoulder. Except Lucas halts you with a low cough, raising his hand, something bunched up in it.

"You forget this, though." It's your underwear, red and lacy. Your cheeks match the colour of fabric, flushed hot as you pluck it out of his wide palm. Lucas watches you slip them on with a smug smile, one that you should hate but there's a humour in it that blooms through you. He lets you part with a fond squeeze of ass when he gets up to open the door, still grinning.

"See you, Y/N," he says, leaning against the doorframe. He's very tall too, how did you miss that?

"Yeah," you squeak back, eyes shifting from his face with speed. "See you."

He's not Jeongguk, and that's good. He also makes it easy for you to forget about Jeongguk, another plus. And you can't help but wonder as you scurry back to the party, that it might be nice to see him again.

—

That sentiment gets jumbled when Chayoung avidly spills to you later that she'd stumbled into Jeongguk with his hands tangled with another girls, leading her right out of the party as Lucas had lead you. It stings, of course it does, but not as much as the first one. Not when Lucas is in your DMs, his messages sweet albeit corny, and you can still recall the taste of you on his tongue. 

But despite everything, even with Jeongguk a new stranger and Lucas's body warming yours, you haven’t truly let go. You can feel it in how you cling to the clothes Jeongguk had left in your closet. He hadn't requested to come pick them up yet, a fact that keeps a wedge in the door you're not sure you can close alone. Your heart still spikes when you see him on campus, and there's a home game coming around the corner that you're longing to go to. Because you still want to see him. Still want to be by his side Sometimes it felt nice to want to forget but you couldn't – not yet at least, not until you know whether he wants to forget about you too.

[whump-town]

The Paths to Revenge

Warnings: same old, same old... just some stabbing

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Summary: Doyle nonsense but make it Hotch/Morgan for the fun of it.

Clyde goes first.

“No one else can know,” JJ had whispered feverishly. She’d looked nearly insane, had come unattached in her months away from them and now pulled back into the whirling black hole of the mess he created by force, cruelly unnatural. “He will kill her. If he—” she’d choked on the words, tears starting to fall down her face. She had looked up at him with a wordless inquiry, sadness and disappointment laced in the fingers she wove into his. If this wouldn’t break him, what would? If he couldn’t cry now, for his best friend, would he ever cry again?

“You can’t tell Derek.”

It’s not their first secret. Hotch severely doubts it's their last.

The grace with which Derek Morgan seems to live has always bewildered Aaron. There is something about the way that Derek breathes gentleness, cupped hands so gentle his fingers could pry apart and life would still be captured in his hands. The fluttering of delicate butterfly wings twitching in his warm palms. Torn between desires, Aaron could never understand if he wished for those palms to close around his throat. To solidify him as something wretched, so undeserving of Derek’s endless, gentle love that he might stifle it once and for all. In another breath, he wishes he could curl himself up to be something so small and so delicate that Derek might hold him like that. Like something worth preserving, worth loving.

Those hands do not wrap around his throat, applying crushing pressure until Aaron is no more. They come to frame Aaron’s face, their warmth seeping into the bone chill of his body. Thumb stroking along a worry line stretched wide by his deep frown. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Derek whispers, he’s desperate to be them again. For Aaron to settle back down and find him, to lean into his touch. Hotch’s weary but tense with panic and restlessness. Not sleeping. Hardly eating. Derek can’t keep watching this and he’s not sure how much longer Aaron can keep it up. “I can see it in your eyes, I can always tell.”

Before their relationship, Derek had been jealous of everything that Emily and Aaron had. At the time he hadn’t known it for what it was, his unrequited love making him bitter. He had just seen the way they looked at one another, the way they worked and he’d wanted to be that person for Aaron too. Emily’s intuition had lead her to find Aaron after Foyet’s attack, all based on nothing more than a feeling. While Derek had felt boiling rage and the inability to so much as look at Aaron while he suffered alone in that hospital bed. Derek had been jealous of how easily they spoke with one another, in a language no one else really understood. How Emily could comfort Hotch — she was allowed to touch him and hug him and press a kiss to his cheek or even drag him down several steps by the ear to reprimand him like a child. While even comforting gestures Derek attempted seemed to piss Hotch off.

But now Emily’s dead and Derek wishes she was here. So that he can hear Aaron laugh again. To argue loudly and pointless about Sean Connery vs Daniel Craig — how Aaron’s never cared about either but he gets all soft around the edges listening to Emily and Derek bicker more and more as the night goes on. To be happy and close.

And, maybe, Derek just misses his best friend too.

Both of them.

It starts with Clyde. National television doesn’t pick it up, it’s the sort of affair that’s quickly suffocated to prevent mass media from getting word. It reaks with the proper stench of death, Clyde Easter bound to a chair in his London flat. His own blood in a pool at his feet, head hung in the final submission of death. Severally tortured. The strain of an entire week of torture, hunger, and exhaustion taking its toll. Died of a heart attack. Aaron doesn’t need to be told what’s happening, he couldn’t even talk about it if he wanted to. He’s only given what he’s needed, a warning that he’s next and to watch out.

Aaron just prays Derek isn’t there when it happens. He’s allowed this one small grace.

“Ice cream,” Derek says more to the room than to Aaron, the idea had dawned on him so suddenly he’d spoken it out loud. Having spent another weekend inside, moping from their bed to the couch to the kitchen back to their bed, Derek is buzzing with energy he needs to do something with. Grief and this lie Aaron holds sucks him rather dry of the will to do anything. It seems the energy he’s supposed to have has gone to Derek, makes him worse. “Ice cream,” Derek repeats with a clap of his hand. “I’m going to get ice cream and you don’t have to come with me but I’d really like you to.”

Aaron looks up, hair a mess on the top of his head and shoulders sinking impossibly low in their joints as exhaustion sweeps over him. He’s incapable of so much as looking at Derek, having to see how hopeful and how loving he’s being looked at. All he’s ever wanted was to be loved and now he’s got it and he can’t face the vulnerability that cracks through his sternum every time Derek touches him. How every demonstration of love is such debilitating proof of how broken he is. How hopeless.

“I’ll bring you back a tub of Rocky Road.” Derek slides his jacket on, he’s not annoyed. No matter how convinced Hotch is, Derek isn’t even bothered. He knew he was going to get ice cream alone and, though he’d rather not do it alone, that’s okay.

Once his feet are shoved into his sneakers he comes back around the side of the couch and kisses the top of Hotch’s head, messing further with his hair. “I love you.”

Derek couldn’t remember what the last thing he said to Emily was. It kept him up at night trying to piece together every last second he had before she was taken from him before the nurses pulled them in opposite directions. Did she know he loved her? How glad he was that she was someone that not only he could trust but that Aaron had too? It’s the sort of thing that weighs down heavily on him. Now he can’t leave anyone without saying it.

Aaron has the opposite problem. Pulls away so that in case this happens again he won’t get hurt.

“I love you too,” he answers but hoarsely and to the sound of Derek walking away.

Jack is with Jessica. She takes Hotch’s emotional distance with grace, allows him this little period of reprieve while he tries to get back into the swing of things. He’s lost both of his best friends in a year’s span of time and is still really struggling to understand how to integrate himself fully into his relationship with Derek.

Life, it seems, has been throwing hard balls and it’s not getting any easier.

Derek kicks his shoes off at the door, more Aaron’s habit than his but he’s learning to uphold it. “I got rainbow sprinkles,” he calls out. “I know you have a reputation to uphold but I also know you love them—” Derek tosses the bags up onto the counter, smirking even in his slight confusion. He’d figured Aaron would have come looking for him once the front door opened. He’s vigilant about that sort of stuff. Even if he does know logically it’s just Derek. “Hey—” he’s greeted by the dark living room. It’s undeniably odd. “Where’d you—” Derek smirks when he sees Aaron’s back, even bowed and distressed it’s still undeniably him. “Aaron?”

A gun cocks at his head and Derek freezes, eyes never leaving Aaron’s. “Sit down.” Derek opens his mouth, going to argue or fight but Aaron looks away. Gaze sinking to the floor as his head rolls down, chin on his chest. “Sit down!” Derek listens, not out of fear of the gun just in his line of sight but because he can’t think past the sight of blood smeared across the side of Aaron’s face. The way his right eye is red with blood, his temple drooling angrily down his cheek. “I have to admit,” the dark of the room caves to what little light is in the house, and Derek tenses. Recognizes him immediately.

“You fucker—”

The gun is moved, away from his head and to Aaron’s bowed temple. “Sit. Down.”

Derek hadn’t even realized it, he’d just stood like he could do something in the face of a gun. Now he certainly can’t, being the cause of his own life’s end is one thing but to hurt Aaron is another. He sits back down, eases his way back to a sitting position with his hands on the table. He won’t do anything fast.

“You know what I want.” Ian Doyle stands in their house, smirking at the wet sound of Aaron’s blood dripping on the floor. “Tell me where she is.”

Derek opens his mouth to answer, a snippy — “she’s dead” — but Aaron looks up at him. The look they share is laced with mixed truths and the bold lie woven between the three men. His bloody eye, pupil blown wide staring back at Derek with all the answers he needs. Emily had died for them. She’d chased down her past and fought it all alone for them. Derek wondered if that meant she didn’t trust them, didn’t think they were capable of undertaking this threat with them. Looking at Aaron, watching his chest rise and fall in choking breathes, Derek wishes he couldn’t understand the solemn warrior trope. That he didn’t know the truth.

“She’s dead,” Derek mumbles but he’s not so sure about that anymore.

Ian smirks, unfooled. “See,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s what your friend here keeps telling me.” Ian shakes his head, taking the muzzle of the gun and grazing it across Hotch’s head. Trailing it through his hair. “I remain unconvinced.”

Aaron looks hopelessly up at Derek, a tear sliding down through the blood on his cheek. Caught on his eyelash, trailing over the duct tape on his mouth.

The knife comes out of nowhere. Slammed down into Aaron’s thigh with no warning. The duct tape obstructs his breathing, leaves Aaron gasping, struggling to breathe. He groans, sucking in air through his nose but it’s not enough. Aaron’s eyelids flutter, his head tilted back as he trembles. Face drained of color, his breathing getting worse. More strained, shallow.

Derek jerks his head away, clenching his teeth when Doyle jerks the knife back out of the wound. Aaron makes an awful sound, pained and unconscious.

“Tell me!” Doyle slams his fist down on the table. Completely ignores Aaron’s noises, his pained cries as he wheezes around the ducktape. “Tell me or I’ll kill him.”

Derek shakes his head, “no, no—”

“It’s not that hard,” Doyle sneers, patience is gone. “Her for him, choose!”

Derek shakes his head again, his own tear falling down. “I don’t know,” he whispers. Derek starts to tremble, rage replacing hopelessness. Angered to the point of tears. “She’s dead! We buried her!”

Doyle shouts, “fine! You want to keep playing games?” Doyle raises the knife up between them, letting the blade punctuate the question. “You will always lose Agent Morgan. Always—”

“No!”

Aaron’s eyes fly back open, a scream muffled by the duct tape. “I’ll find her,” Doyle promises. “It doesn’t matter what you do.” Aaron’s head falls down to chest, eyes falling shut. “And when I find her, there’s nothing that you’ll be able to do to stop me.” Doyle reaches down, fingers slick with Aaron’s blood, and pulls the knife from Aaron’s chest. “Last chance,” Doyle whispers with a grin. He steps back, “last game, last question: me or Agent Hotchner?”

Derek doesn’t wait for Doyle to get out of sight, he moves immediately to the other side of the room. He steps behind the chair Hotch is tied to, seeing for the first time the ropes wrapped around his arms. The way he’s constrained to the chair, unable to move. “Aaron,” Derek lifts his head up, his fingers under Aaron’s chin. His skin is clammy, cold against Derek’s palm. “Aaron, hey! Look at me, keep your eyes open. Aaron?” His head is heavy, limp in Derek’s hold. “Aaron, please. Stay with me.”

He stops breathing in the ambulance, airway preserved by the tracheal tube bulged in his throat. His heart beats too quickly, pounding away in his ribcage. Derek feels like just yesterday he was living this exact horror movie, Emily’s cold hand unresponsive in his. Dark hair a crown on poignant contrast. Life held in the balance, raw existence. Again, Derek feels the pitter of a heartbeat against his fingertips. Again his breath is held as nurses pull him one way and his heart is torn from his chest.

What will JJ have to say this time?

Will the same tears shine in her eyes? The same trepidation? Their lie is bleeding out on a stretcher being pushed down a luminescent hallway. As pale as the death they created. Perhaps this is the price one pays when meddling with things beyond control. Things that are not to be messed with. The evil Derek’s mother forbade him from playing with. Worse than the handmade ouija board under his bed, death’s creator laying on his chest.

Lying dead in his arms.

Derek Morgan sits for six hours, entirely alone in the waiting room. Each breath could be the last he shares with Aaron and he won’t know for several more to come. They labor on, Aaron’s controlled by machines and Derek’s by the flood of emotions weighing him down. He can only control himself for so long, holding down the bitter failures of the last few days. His anger is intense, uncontrollable.

“You lied.” It’s the middle of the night, Garcia’s hair still pulled back in pigtails and JJ’s in a clip at the back of her head. The waiting room isn’t full of special agents, dressed to the nines ready for a fight. Derek sees only their family, leggings, and sweatpants, and he can’t take it.

“You lied,” Derek repeats to the floor. “She’s not dead and now Aaron—” his voice catches. Derek rubs his hands down his eyes, looks up at them unashamed of the tears falling down his face. Her fault. JJ and her stupid lie. “I’ll never forgive you. If he dies… If he dies because of this stupid shit, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Derek—”

“Not now.”

Sixty-two hours. Over two days of sitting and measuring machine regulated breathes. Three nights of sleeping in a chair, falling asleep to the sounds of machines and thin blankets pulled to his chin. Aaron twitches and each time Derek thinks he’s going to wake up but his pleas are meant with more silence.

It’s sitting. Waiting. Watching. The waiting room has become his third home, where he’s kicked to when Aaron’s getting another test or scan. He’s left with only the anxieties of the unknown. He spends hours just drumming his knee, head in his hands. That’s a long time to sit and think about all things you’ve said in the past.

They hunt him down, attempting to softly fill in the holes with medical jargon. Stammering and averting his gaze to the tiled floor under his feet. “Uhm,” he rubs at his eyes. “I--I don’t want to know.” He doesn’t care that the doctor looks stunned, entirely caught off guard. “Someone else,” he mumbles, head still ducked as he steps into the room. Leaving the doctor in the hall. “Tell someone else when they arrive.” He just can’t do it. He can’t hear all that medical bullshit and still have this blind hope that everything will turn out.

He grabs a chair from the ones lining the wall across from Hotch’s bed, pulling it right up to Hotch’s side and throwing himself into it unceremoniously. Derek looks everywhere but Hotch. He got a glance in and he knows what there is to see. Tape twisting Hotch’s lips around the tube down his throat. All pale skin, still hands, and machines. Derek huffs, shaking his head, and picks at his cuticles. They’ve all been through so much but Hotch…

They never really get a break, do they?

He wishes he could go back to when it was just the three of them. Hotch, Gideon, and himself against the world. When it was Hotch’s desk he kicked his feet up on, watching him eat his lunch or snack in a certain order. Thirty years old and still saving his dessert for after his sandwich and carrots. The only person Derek’s ever met that cared or noticed the apparent lack of yellow and green M&Ms compared to the other colors. Also, the only person Derek knows who sits and sorts them out. Putting them in a neat line and two of each color-- one M&M for each side of his mouth.

Derek’s eyes sting and he rubs them roughly, shaking his head and forcing himself to pull it together. He’s not going to cry over Hotch sharing those odd M&Ms with him. Not going to think about how close they used to be, how things have changed for the better and the worse. He’s not going to die, so there’s no need to think like that.

They’ll be fine.

Everything is fine.

Garcia finds Ian Doyle, he never left Virginia.

Emily’s already on a plane coming over.

Killing Clyde Easter was revenge. It had been personal. For creating Lauren Reynolds and then for taking her away. Hurting Aaron was just convenience. Doyle knew Clyde’s death would sting but it would be no reason to come home, no reason to bring Emily home. There would be nothing she could do about the affair by the time she got word of his death. Hurting Aaron, though. Hurting one of the people Emily had supposedly died to protect, would work like a charm. It would draw her out.

Ian Doyle hadn’t planned for Derek Morgan. Not fully. He knew Derek would arrive when he needed him to, with enough time to keep Agent Hotchner sparingly alive. To make sure Doyle made it clear he knew Emily Prentiss is alive, to stir the team. Pin them against one another. Even against their downed leader. Take out the strongest first -- and that’s where Doyle hadn’t really known them. Aaron is fearless, he’s stupidly brave, but he’s not stupid. He won’t be blinded by his feelings. What Doyle did was stifle their logic, he disabled the one person who would have allowed Doyle to escape. What Doyle did was piss off five agents tired of losing the people they love.

Aaron gets worse on his own.

Garcia stays home, someone needs to be there in case Hotch wakes up. It’s not hard to figure out why they’d want to leave her behind. She’s stronger at home, has what she needs. And Derek’s terrified something will happen.

Ian Doyle finds Declan, it’s all the same story. Confused children and manipulative adults. There are no bittersweet reunions -- not between biological father and son and not between Emily and the others. Doyle and Emily have set fire to the families they had. Held a lighter over the portrait and watched the color melt to grey and then to black. Piercing a hole in the heart.

The airstrip lights up in heavy gunfire.

Derek doesn’t fire a shot. He wishes he had, for his own selfish fire starving out. He doesn’t shoot for Aaron. This isn’t what he’d want. This mess that they’ve all made. Aaron’s morals are always getting in the way of things but as Derek lowers his gun he’s flooded with relief. His anger abating, exhaustion seeping in. Ian Doyle dies on the tarmac. Spread out on his back and choking on blood. It takes four minutes.

It doesn’t feel long enough.

Not after everything he’s taken.

“Derek?”

He can hear it in her voice.

“I think-- Oh God, I think something is wrong.”

Emily had died. Derek had watched the monitor run-flat.

She’s a ghost and Aaron’s dying. This time no matador’s cape will dance, shaking free the threat with deadly precision. No magician to pull up the curtain, to show them the trap door.

“How is he?” Emily asks

“Alive,” JJ mumbles. “They’re not sure for how long--” she shrugs and Reid makes a choked sound, blushing and wiping his face clean of the tears still dry on his cheek. JJ just glances at him. “He’s holding on, Morgan’s with him.” The dismissiveness in her tone is not a reflection of how she feels, truly. It’s just a protective measure to ensure she doesn’t break. If she stops for even a moment she will cry and she’s still trying to convince herself that this is going to work out.

Aaron can’t die now. He’s laced hesitation into Derek’s logic. Changed too many things about him -- taught him the magic of rainbow sprinkles and how to cut hair with nothing but kitchen scissors and the bathroom mirror. Derek’s learned the magic of loving his best friend. Hating the person he shares a bed with. Being unable to sleep without the heat of Aaron’s body close by, no more than a breath away.

With those gentle hands, meant to capture thrashing wild things, Derek Morgan cups Aaron’s face. “I can see what you’re thinking,” he whispers. The intubation machines are gone, one step forward. Aaron lays flat on his back, an oxygen mask over his face. Across his bare chest are machine leads, pads left stuck to his chest. His heart is giving out. “Don’t--” Derek shakes his head, clearing his throat. He uses the back of his hand to push away a tear. “Don’t leave me, Aaron. Not now.”

Every muscle in Aaron’s body is stiff with pain untouchable by the maxed-out morphine. Cold sweat streaks across his body, makes him shiver, and clench his teeth down when the small movements spike worse pain. The thin sheet across his hips does nothing. It feels colder than the rest of the room, not even the reassuring pressure of it seems to help. His muscles ache from the tension. From the rounds he’s lost against the crash cart.

If he could force his jaw open, unclench it from the pain, he’d beg Derek for a blanket. Something warm or comforting. For relief. Anything.

He wakes to movement. It takes him too long to realize it’s his body being moved. “Easy.” Aaron looks up, confused by the sight of Emily and Derek standing side-by-side. “Here--” They work together, moving his body slowly. They try not to hurt him but he feels lit up inside. A pyre in his chest set ablaze with a match. Agonizing. He closes his eyes tight, detached enough to lose focus of where their hands are on his body.

“Aaron?”

When he can open his eyes again, he’s looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey, there sleeping beauty.”

There are pillows under one of his sides, another tucked under his thigh.

“Don’t--” He’s not even aware he’s doing it, not until he’s looking at the hand Emily’s just smacked. “Are you an actual child? Stop touching everything.” She stands and he watches in amazement as she bends over him and fixes the oxygen canal under his nose. Her hand grazes his cheek and she’s real. She’s here. When she notices his confusion she smirks, “seeing a ghost, Hotch?”

“Emily.” Oh, Derek. Hotch looks over at him, a dopey smirk he’s not even aware of spreading across his face. When Derek sees it, he loses his tension. The sting of his reprimand, who still thinks it’s too soon for Emily’s dead jokes, is gone. “How do you feel?” he asks even though he’s not sure Hotch has managed to find his words. His answer is that smile, growing wider as Derek kisses his cheek.

Aaron closes his eyes the second he sees Derek freeing his hands, sighing contently before Derek can even lean over and cup his face in his hands. They’re warm from the coffee he went to get, familiar in all the safest ways. “I missed you,” Derek whispers. Derek kisses him again, on his smiling lips. Unbothered that Aaron’s too out of his mind to work his mouth, just hums back, turns further into Derek’s touch.

Recovery will not be fun. Aaron got his wish. His best friend and his boyfriend back and it hardly cost him a thing. They'll both smother him, taking turns bossing him around.

He's never been so relieved to hear them arguing this early in the morning.

[tiffdawg]

The Light of Stars | Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

The Light of Stars

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 5.5k

Rating: M | Warnings: the typical angst and a little smooching, mild language. No spoilers for season two!

Story Summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

A/N: Hi! It's been a while – much longer than I ever intended and for that I apologize. I want to say thank you to you all for reading my story and sticking with me. And to everyone who left comments on previous chapters, you have all my love for ever. I really do cherish each and everyone. You all inspire me to keep writing! Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you read the latest installment of Jetii, Din, and Baby's (mis)adventures. This chapter is officially the beginning of the end!

Read on AO3

TLOS Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

The last few days were a blur as you cut across the galaxy at lightspeed. Time ceased to exist even as it passed you by, but it was uneventful in the best possible way as you spent what precious time you had left with the Mandalorian and his foundling quietly existing together.

You passed most of your time in the main cabin conversing with Mando. You always talked about your pasts. Never the future. But you considered yourself lucky to have that time with him. He spoke mostly of his youth with the Mandalorians and his early forays into bounty hunting, but occasionally he’d grace you with a story from his childhood. When he’d confessed that he hadn’t so much as said his parents' names aloud in decades but still found it within himself to share a treasured memory of them, you’d reached across the small space separating you to twine your fingers with his gloved ones as best you could. The words seemed to come a little easier after that. His life had been so full of sadness that you wondered if the last few weeks together had been an anomaly even with the chaos you’d brought into his life.

Down in the hull after tasteless meals of reconstituted food, you’d spent long hours reading texts from the Jedi holocron aloud to Mando while he disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled every blaster in his weapons locker twice-over. Other times he insisted on continuing your flying lessons but there wasn’t much to do as the ship sailed through hyperspace. During the infrequent fuel stops on lonely planets, you’d stretch your legs and find a quiet place to practice with the kid in consolation for long days spent trapped inside the ship.

That day, you’d landed on Mygeeto, a cold, frigid planet a few sectors from your final destination. Mando and the kid seemed unfazed by the icy winds, but you’d had to dig out your old parka just to walk to the closet cantina while the ship refueled. It was also a decently populated planet, big on mining and banking and a hub of trade. You were on the outskirts of a smaller spaceport, but it wasn’t somewhere you wanted to linger.

The docking bay was crowded with a steady rush of people coming and going earlier that morning. Now, when you stepped into the small, outdated docking bay ahead of the Mandalorian but behind the Child’s hovering carrier, it was deserted. Instantly, your eyes went to the fueling gear still hooked up to the Razor Crest. A quick glance around the bay told you the lone mechanic was nowhere to be seen. Most likely off working on one of the other starships. That meant the three of you were stuck on that icy, crystalline planet for at least a little while longer. 

That meant trouble.

“Mando–”

“I know,” he sighed. “I made them back at the cantina. They aren’t with the guild, but they’re definitely hunters.”

“Were you just hoping they wouldn’t follow us back to the ship?”

“I wanted to get you two back to the Crest.” He entered a code on his vambrace and canceled the ship’s security protocols. After the ramp lowered, he closed the baby’s carrier and sent it into the hull of the ship.

“There are six of them,” you said, raising a brow at him, “and they’re right behind us.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” He placed a hand on the blaster holstered at his hip. 

“Gods, you're cocky sometimes,” you retorted. Still, you extracted your lightsaber from your satchel before tossing the bag into the ship. It pained you to think that neither the baby nor Mando would be safe until that ex-Imp was taken care of for good. And even then, you worried about who else might know about the baby. You could only wish that wasn’t fated to be their only existence together. With his visor trained on you, his helmet tilted to the side. You shrugged as you took your place beside him.

“Don’t think I can handle it on my own?”

“I know you could, but you don’t have to,” you assured him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and found him watching you.

“I–”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a noise coming from just beyond the entrance. Both of your heads snapped in that direction, alert and ready for a fight. 

When the first blaster shot rang out, Mando returned it with one of his own.

. 

“How many of them are there?” you shouted over the blast that rocked the Razor Crest. You’d mistakenly assumed you’d escaped after you’d fended off the six bounty hunters at the docking bay. The gunship fired back at Mando’s command.

“Down to two,” he answered as he hit a series of switches in rapid fire. He pulled the yoke and the ship took a nosedive through empty space. “Told you that spaceport was too big.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“I thought it.

Another hit set off one of the alarms. “Mando!” 

“We’re almost to the hyperlane. Once we hit lightspeed, they can’t track us. Just hold on!”

You sighed in relief at the familiar streaks of blue light of hyperspace. Mando’s seat swiveled to face you and the Child. “You alright?” he asked the kid. He chirped happily in response. “I figured.” He turned to you, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair. “How about you?” 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. You might’ve been a little rattled, but you’d seen worse. “We’re those the Moff’s men? How’d they track us to Mygeeto?”

“They didn’t.” A beat passed as you waited for him to explain. “They were already here. They’re amateurs. Gideon probably distributed fobs throughout the galaxy.” 

While you’d gotten a decent glimpse of it on Vrogas Vas, you were beginning to see the severity of his situation. The Empire might’ve fallen years ago, but this former Imp had not. He had the resources and the reach to find the Mandalorian and the Child. And you didn’t like the thought of him taking on the Moff alone. “Mando, can you do something for me?” 

“Anything,” he responded quickly.  

You hesitated, doubting he would think that in a moment. “Will you send a holo to your tribe before you leave for Nevarro.” He straightened up at that, ready to protest. “You’re going to need all of the help you can get.”

“I can’t ask them to put the covert at risk for me. Not again.”

“So you know they would come for you?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice straining around the word. 

“Do you think they hold what happened against you? Do you truly believe that any one of them regrets their choice?” He didn’t say anything, but you knew your assumption was right. And you knew his guilt was misplaced. They wouldn’t have welcomed him back, called him their brother, if that was the case. “You have to forgive yourself, Mando.” You unbuckled your safety restraints and kneeled before him. With a hand on the either curved cheek of his helmet, you forced him to look at you. You leveled him with a serious look, but he was unflinching, as still as ever. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“They’re Mandalorians. They would want to fight with you. For you. How do you not see that?”

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, he pulled your hands away from his helmet. “I can’t do that for you.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” you snapped before you stood and left the cabin.

… . …

Drawing his eyes away from the streaks of light bending around the Razor Crest, Din found you still in your seat next to him and the Child carefully cradled to your chest. With matching expressions – eyes closed and lips slightly parted – you both slept peacefully. Din had half a mind to wake you and send you both to your room. Even that makeshift bunk had to be more comfortable than the contorted position you’d maneuvered yourself into in your chair. But as the baby moved in your grasp to snuggle further into you, tiny clawed hands gripping the front of your tunic even as he drooled on it, he hesitated to disturb the scene before him.

Somehow, in the span of a few weeks, Din’s entire universe had narrowed to the two of you. His foundling, of course, was already his primary focus in life. And then you showed up and without even meaning to, the three of you had become a family.

Din had a family.  

The realization struck him hard and fast, but quickly faded into something familiar. Something some part of him already knew because of course you were his family.

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Din’s mouth as the two of you dozed, bathed in blue starlight, until he realized that he wasn’t the only one who was going to miss you. The kid had grown fond of you, to say the absolute least. When he wasn’t toddling after Din or causing trouble, he was attached to your hip. But your days together were numbered.

He didn’t have time to dwell on that reality. He was suddenly pulled from deep within his own mind by the quiet beep of an incoming holo. With the flick of a single switch, Greef Karga’s figure, in miniature and cast in static blue light, appeared on the console.

Karga’s booming voice filled the silent cabin. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days, Mando.”

“I’ve been out of range.”

“While I’m sure your new quest has taken you to the furthest reaches of this galaxy, there are more pressing matters at hand here on Nevarro. Would you care to tell me why Moff Gideon, the man you supposedly killed, is amassing stormtroopers outside my city?” he asked pointedly. “Word is he’s looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” Din sighed. “I’ll be there in a few days. I have something I need to take care of first.”

“Something or someone?” Karga mused lowly with a deep chuckle. Din followed his line of sight. Next to him, you’d woken and leaned forward in your seat just enough for the holocam to pick up your image. You watched the guild leader with interest. “Who might this stunning creature be?”

“End of the week,” Din said curtly before switching off the holo.

“Who was that?” you asked. You spoke softly, mindful of the baby in your hold. Your tired gaze lingered on the spot where Karga’s figure stood a moment ago before drifting to Din. 

“No one.”

“Right,” you said with a gentle roll of your eyes. “I heard you mention Nevarro.”

“He’s an old associate.”

“A friend?” you supplied, brows lifting with the question.

“Sometimes.”

“Well, I imagine that means something coming from you.” There was a glint of humor in your eyes but faded into something more serious as you leveled him with a stern look. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go there first?” you asked, not for the first time. “You know I’m good in a fight.”

A small huff of a laugh escaped him. You could hold your own, of that he had no doubt. And the thought of having you with him for a few extra days was nothing short of tempting. Still, something told him that was how things were meant to happen. That was the original deal the two of you struck up, after all, and the course was already set. The Crest was less than a day out from the Lah’mu sector. It would be easier on his own heart to stick to it. Surprisingly, your argument from the day before had faded into the background. He’d come to expect more of a fight from you, but you’d rejoined him in the cockpit that morning as if nothing had happened.

He decided it was best not to prompt another argument. He stood and held out a hand to you. “It’s been a long day. You should go to bed.”

You placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet before you gently handed the still-sleeping baby to him. “You should too.”

 .

The kid didn’t so much as stir as Din placed him in his makeshift hammock above his cot. He started to remove his armor, stowing the Beskar for a few hours of much needed reprieve. Lost deep in his own tired mind, he didn’t hear you emerge from the ship’s small refresher.

“What’s that?”

 “What?”

“That.” He glanced over his shoulder at you just in time to see you gesturing toward the compartment.

“Exactly what it looks like.” That time he heard you move closer to him as you peered around his form.

“You’ve been sleeping here?” you asked incredulously. “I thought there was another bunkroom.”

“No,” Din answered flatly. He couldn’t see why that was an issue – especially at the late hour but the scowl on your face as you moved between him and the compartment told him that you expected a better explanation. “Technically there aren’t any bunkrooms on the Crest. Yours was extra carbonite storage for backlog. I converted it recently because the kid kept trying to crawl in here with me and there’s not exactly enough space for two. I wasn’t taking on any quarries so I figured it would work temporarily.”

“And you gave it to me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“It’s nothing,” he said, hoping to brush it off.

“Mando,” you sighed, sounding stuck somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. You pursed your lips as you looked back at the cot. “This the sorriest excuse for a bed I’ve ever seen. I’m not letting you sleep here.” 

“Where would you have me sleep?” he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“In your bed,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. You could be so stubborn when you wanted. Almost as stubborn as him. 

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ll be there too.” There was a hint of a mischievous smile playing on your lips. 

“Last time–” 

Your voice dropped to a whisper, but it was enough to make him forget the rest of his sentence. “I miss having you in my bed.” 

A chill shot down his spine and settled low inside him as he watched you scale the ladder that led to your room and left him to follow. Just before you disappeared, you threw a playful insult back at him. “Di’kut.”

His chest deflated as a deep sigh fell from his lips. “Let me guess who taught you that,” he called after you, rolling his eyes at your receding figure. He sealed the small compartment and followed you up.

“You had your chance to teach me nice things in Mando’a,” you retorted. “Now I can insult you seven ways to Scarif!”

 “Great,” he muttered with a light laugh.

“To be fair,” you offered when he finally walked into your small bunkroom, “Paz called me an idiot too.”

Din froze at the threshold as a cold fear rushed over him. “He told you his name?” he hissed. 

“Yeah.” You said it almost lightly, but Din heard the slight edge undercutting your words. He knew you understood the significance of the act. He could see it in the way you teased your bottom lip between your teeth. “I didn’t ask. He just told me. He said it was okay,” you tried to clarify. “It’s not like I expect you–”

“Do you want to know?” he replied quickly despite not knowing if he was prepared to give it if you said yes. While there were a few select people who knew his name now, he had never shared it with anyone himself. If Vizsla could share his name with someone outside the covert, then so could he. Right?

“Of course I do. I want to know all of you,” you started slowly. You stepped closer to him, gently resting your hands on his last piece of armor. Your eyes followed the path of your fingers as you traced the mended edge of his cuirass. “But I only want what pieces of yourself you want to share with me. I would never ask.” 

“I know you wouldn’t. You never ask for anything.” 

“I asked you to come to bed with me,” you teased, trying to divert the conversation.

“No. You told me.” You smiled almost shyly and made to move away, but Din reached for your hands and held you in place. “Ask me for something. I’ll give it to you.” You eyed him for a long moment as you considered his request. He could see the thoughts racing in your mind. “Ask me for anything,” he repeated. 

“Anything?” 

“Yes.”

“I want you to promise me something.”

“A promise?” His brows furrowed behind the visor.

“Do you remember our last conversation that morning at the covert? Because I haven’t forgotten it.” Neither had Din. He nodded once and you squeezed his hands. “No matter what answers we find on Lah’mu, no matter where your journey takes you and your son next, no matter how many years or decades it’s been since we parted,” you took a deep breath as your voice wavered, “I want you to promise me that you will pursue a life that makes you happy. The both of you. Whatever that may be.” 

Din had no response to that. He’d given you permission to ask him for anything and for some godsforsaken reason you asked for his happiness. He was struck, hardly for the first time, by just how much good there was in you. That you could possibly care about him that way even amidst your own turmoil. He would’ve preferred you ask him to call his tribe members for help. “Sweetheart–” he tried to admonish.

“Promise me, you stubborn Mandalorian,” you demanded with a new fire in your eyes. “You said you would give me anything. That’s what I want. If I can’t— If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy.” When he didn’t say anything, you pleaded. “Please, Mando.” 

Lifting a hand to the back of your head, he drew you closer to him and gently pressed his helmet to your forehead, kissing you in the only way he could in that moment. “I promise,” Din swore even though that didn’t change the fact that there was only one way he ended up happy.

“Thank you,” you sighed as if he’d given you something you needed. Without parting, your fingers dipped beneath the edge of his cuirass. “May I?” He nodded against you and you pulled just enough to deactivate the magnetic hold. Others had tried to take his armor off in the past, usually by force, but with you it felt like a barrier. Something keeping him from what he really wanted. 

As Din laid in the too-small bunk with you, your words echoed in his mind. If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy. With every quiet moment that passed, each one somehow longer than the next, he seemed to move closer to you, and you to him, until you met somewhere in the middle. His forehead knocked against yours again and as your breath ghosted across his face, he fought his overwhelming desire to kiss you. Really kiss you. To show you just how much your care for him affected him. But he remembered what happened the last time you’d tried something like that. It ended with you crying into his chest as he held you through the long night. 

He asked anyway. “Can I kiss you?” he rasped.

“I thought you just did, Mandalorian,” you teased.

He rolled you over onto your back, caging you in as he leaned on his elbows to hover above you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped. 

Before you could offer some smart retort, he slotted his mouth over yours. Despite his eagerness, he felt clumsy and unpracticed. Considering he’d never kissed anyone before you, he absolutely was. You were the only one he’d ever wanted like this. Based on the breathy little noises you made for him, you didn’t seem to mind his inexperience.

He pressed the weight of his body into yours, pinning you beneath him, until there was no space between you. You were molded to him and him to you in a way that felt natural. It felt right. He was growing accustomed to it even as he knew he shouldn’t. But those moments with you, unmasked and exposed, were too enticing.

Din never said he was a good man.

… . …

In the light of an early morning, you ran through an open field surrounded by a forest of tall evergreens. Soft wild grass cushioned each stride as you sprinted toward the tree line, chasing the fresh, spicy scent. Behind you, someone pursued you at full speed. 

No. That wasn’t right.

You glanced over your shoulder only to find not one but two young children sprinting after you, squealing and smiling. Your heart practically burst at the sight of their unbridled joy and a laugh of your own bubbled past your lips. You slowed your pace, giving in to them easily, and two sets of arms wrapped around your legs. You knelt in the dewy grass, rewarding them with snug hugs and kisses on their chubby cheeks, and earning yourself another jubilant round of laughter from them both. 

Together, they begged you to chase them next, and unable to deny them anything, you readily agreed. You stood, shooing them off to get a head start. But they wouldn’t run away just yet. Not when they were too distracted by something behind you. Another pair of arms, only much stronger, wrapped around you.

The kids ran off, shouting catch us, dad! A low rumble reverberated through your back as the man behind you laughed at the children’s wild antics. Your eyes fell closed as you leaned into him, deciding you’d follow the children in a moment. Right then all you wanted was to savor his embrace. It felt like the closest thing to home you’d ever known.

You turned your head as if to look over your shoulder and a pair of lips met yours. Even after the kiss ended, you didn’t part. The feel of his smile hovering against your lips was almost as intoxicating as his kiss.

 “Good morning, Din,” you sighed.

.

You startled awake with a sharp inhale.

Disoriented and scared, you tried to make sense of what you’d just seen. That dream felt real. Too real. Considering the turn your life had taken in the past few weeks, you had no idea what it was. A remnant of your vision. An offering from the Force. Or just your imagination playing tricks on you. It seems like the closer you get to Lah’mu, the more the Force saw fit to taunt you with that other future.

Your eyes searched the pitch-black room for some sort of sign as to where you were, but you couldn’t see anything. Instead, you felt an arm around your waist, holding you securely.

Mando’s arm.

You were still on the Razor Crest, tucked away in your shared bunk that was too small for the both of you, and he was fast asleep behind you, warm and solid. You felt him shift behind you, lifting his head from his pillow to look down at you in the dark.

“Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely. Even in sleep that man missed nothing. Mando’s hold on you tightened, pulling you back against his chest.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “Just a dream.”

“Another nightmare?” 

“No. Not quite. Just...” You screwed your eyes shut and tried to banish the lingering images, or rather sensations, of that other man from your mind. Mando’s voice cut through your daze as he called your name, drawing you back into the present. “Just strange. It almost felt like another vision.”     

“Of your future on Lah’mu?” 

“I don’t think so.”

Din shifted closer. “Your other future?”

“Yes,” you offered meekly.

“What do you dream of? With him?” The question hurt and you said nothing for a long time. The more time you spent with Mando and the baby, the more certain you were that you’d made the right choice. A life on Lah’mu as a lonely Jedi master was more appealing than a future with a stranger you could never love. Not when your heart belonged to the man lying next to you. Seeing him amongst his people had only reinforced your conclusion that Mando was not the man in your vision. It was not the way. His way. But you supposed that didn’t matter and you were only making yourself upset for no reason by reminding yourself of the fact. You’d chosen your path. “You can tell me,” he prompted again.

You shook your head and craned your neck to face him even though he couldn’t see you. You were so close your noses brushed, but he made no move to part. “No, I don’t think I can.” 

A tension hung between you as you waited for his response. “The offer stands,” he finally replied.

“And I appreciate that.” But all you really wanted was to put that dream out of your mind and forget about it entirely. The man next to you provided the perfect distraction. 

You closed that last bit of space between you, letting your mouths meet in a slow, lingering kiss. His soft, slightly chapped lips matched with yours with aching tenderness. Just like that, with him, you felt safe from all the uncertainties your future held. You decided you could indulge in it just a little while longer. Continue what he’d started the night before.

“Good morning, Mando,” you sighed around a lazy smile when you finally parted.

“Good morning, cyar’ika.”

He sounded happier, and your grin pulled taut and you turned in his arms. Holding his face with your hands, your lips melded with his again. He didn’t start at your touch anymore. He sought it out. With a hand gripping your hip, he pressed you closer.

“I could stay right here,” you murmured your confession against his lips in between hungry kisses, “forever.”

“Fuck, so could I,” he admitted. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as his lips parted around his words, earning a broken, desperate moan from him. 

He let you roll him into his back, and you moved so that you were on top of him, a knee pressing into the thin mattress on either side of him. Your hungry mouths slotted together once more.

You longed to feel his skin against yours again and as his hands slid lower, you thought he was going to free you from your tunic. But then his hands traveled further, past the hemline, over your hips and just kept going until he squeezed the swell of your backside, fingers digging into your fabric covered flesh, and ground your hips down against him. Against something hard.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped into his mouth. He chuckled darkly against your cheek as he did it again. That had no right to feel that good. You’d had your suspicions, but knowing he wanted you like that was a whole new thrill. “Eager this morning?” you asked as you searched for breath.

“You started it,” he said low and teasing while nipping at your bottom lip.

“Let me kiss you while I can.” He stilled his movements beneath you. You’d meant it as a joke, but it hurt. You pulled away and rested your head against his chest, letting out a long, slow exhalation as that all-consuming melancholy that seeped into the stolen moment. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“It’s fine,” he ground out. It wasn’t fine. You could hear it in his voice. Even as he moved you off of him with the gentlest touch, you felt the distance growing between you once more. He slipped out of the bunk and you listened to him search for his helmet in the dark, but you sensed him hesitate and he turned back to you, cupping your face between his hands and pressing his lips to yours. There was something about this kiss that felt different. There was a desperate sort of passion that sends adrenaline coursing through your veins. You return it with equal fervor, pouring all your love for him into that kiss. 

“What was that for?” you asked when he finally parted from you.

“I never know.”

“Know what?”

When he spoke next, his voice came to you filtered through the modulator. “I never know when it will be our last.”

The truth of his words tore through you, leaving you feeling cold as you packed your things and emptied the converted bunkroom of all traces of you.

.

After descending the Razor Crest’s ramp, your boots hit the soft grass first, sinking slightly into the black soil that covered the planet. A cool, misty air kissed your skin as you stepped away from the safety of the ship. Your eyes scanned the green valley, landing on the small settlement that dotted the landscape.

You felt Mando approach. He stopped a half step behind you, but his presence felt heavy, almost overwhelming, as you tried to focus. Still, you knew he’d wait for your call.

“She’s here,” you announced quietly, voice barely audible over the crashing waves. You peered back at him over your shoulder, finding his dark visor already trained on you. His helmet tilted slightly. Your heart swelled with affection at the familiar, inquisitive movement. You were well beyond chastising yourself for the sentiment, even if it hurt. “And I think she’s close.” You tore your eyes away from him, ignoring the way the words seemed to get stuck in your throat. Finding your former master had been your goal for years. Now, for the first time in nearly a decade, the two of you were on the same planet. Yet you felt no joy at that momentous fact.

You felt a steady hand rest between your shoulder blades. “I’m right behind you, cyar’ika. Lead the way.”

.

After a few hours of trekking along the base of the rolling hills at the direction of one talkative settler, you found a lone woman meditating in a grassy field. She faced away from you, but the lavender hair styled in a low chignon and dark flowing robes told you exactly who she was.

“Wait here,” you directed without ever taking your eyes off of her. A familiar hand wrapped around yours, stalling you. “It’ll be okay, Mando, but you have to let go.”

You took another step forward and your hand slipped out of his. When you stopped a few paces away, you hesitated. Even after all the years you’d spent searching for your former master, you never figured out what you wanted to say. 

Before you could so much as open your mouth, a flash of violet light cut across your vision. Reacting on instinct, you reached for your lightsaber, blocking the attack at the last moment.

Falling back a step, you grounded yourself before meeting her next strike. A clash of blue and purple plasma sputtered before you. Over the cross of your sabers, you saw her calculating amber eyes flick to the side as she lifted a hand. Daring a glance back, you saw Mando frozen in place, blaster drawn and ready to fire. 

The force behind your next attack sent Zarichi reeling. 

“You hurt them,” you said through gritted teeth in between parries, “and I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

“You don’t have it in you,” she scoffed.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I taught you everything.” Her next drive, three strong blows you narrowly managed to counter, landed you flat on your back with her saber at your neck. The slightest move would’ve singed your skin. “And you’re out of practice, padawan.” 

Before she could so much disengage her lightsaber, she was thrown across the field by some unseen force. You watched her tumble to the ground in a heap before snapping your head to the kid. He stood next to his father, hand outstretched and eyes closed. “Damn,” you breathed.

Zarichi stood and dusted herself off, eyes locked on the baby at Mando’s side. “How curious,” she assed, with a hint of a laugh. Without another word, she set off back toward the settlement. Sighing, you fell back against the grass.

With the baby clutched to his chest and a hand on his hip, Mando appeared above you. “That’s your master?” He didn’t sound amused.

“What’d you expect?” you asked with a shrug. “She’s a Jedi.”

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

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[dandyxrandy]

After-Shoot

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Length: 3k

Warnings: Protected Sex ; My Spanish sucks so Google translate helped. If a phrase is wrong, PLEASE reach out to me so I can correct it. Also not beta read. So if mistakes found, again, reach out. The easier for you to the read, the happier I am.

Gif Credit: @pedrospascl

It couldn’t get any worse, you told yourself. It really, really couldn’t. This was the first time you were invited to have coffee with another in God who remembers how long and you ended up being late. Not only were you late, but you were cold and soaked to the bone from the rain that ended up being a whole hour earlier than the forecast predicted and really, you should've known better than to listen to any predicament of weather because it was usually wrong anyways.

You checked your phone again and it was still dead as a door nail. You had dropped it in a puddle earlier when you tried to answer the call from Pedro, no doubt wondering where you were, and it shorted out the motherboard. You would have to replace it whenever you got home and you honestly had half a mind to just turn around and do just that. That would seem silly, however, with you being more than halfway to Pedro’s apartment where he had invited you for an afternoon coffee get together the day before when you worked together on the Style Magazine photo shoot.

    You were really, really tired of having a shit day. Frustrated and in near tears you saw the place that Pedro was staying in for the time being while he was in your state. It was a nice condo type home with large front windows that overlooked the city, the style modern and sleek.

    You let out a small breath, even as the storm crackled above you, and tried to muster your resolve up. You were a mess, but hey - you were here, right? Hopefully he wouldn’t be too upset with you. It wasn’t exactly your fault that you had to park six blocks away because there wasn’t any closer parking nor was it your fault the weather was wrong.

    You took a deep breath and rang the doorbell and before the small chime even ended the door swung open, Pedro filling the entire frame. Oh. He looked absolutely stunning. His soft curls were slicked back against his head and he wore one of the outfits from the shoot the previous day. One of the ones you had commented on, to be precise. His eyes took a long drag over you, from head to toe, his jaw working from one side to the other. His irritation seemed palpable.

    “I see the coffee isn’t the only thing that’s cold.” His hand slid down the door frame before dropping to his side, a hefty sigh heaving from his lips. “Come on, let's get you inside and warmed up. I have some spare clothes that you can wear.”

    You felt sheepish following him inside. He didn’t even give you time to explain and once the door was closed you were able to try.

    “Pedro, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to be late.” You, shuffled in behind him, following him to the bathroom where he grabbed you a towel.  “There wasn’t any parking and my phone died and I just - please don’t be mad.” And you did feel like crying then. You could tell he wasn’t happy with you and that on top of being cold and tired, you felt a little part of you break.

    He reached out with the towel and brought it to your face, gently wiping away the raindrops that stuck to your cold skin.

    “You have nothing to apologize for, guapa.” He brought his other hand to your cheek and you couldn’t help but lean into the touch a little. You blame it on how he was so warm and you weren’t. “I was worried that something had happened. And then worried you stood me up.”

    “Stood you up? Yeah - okay…” You laughed at him but when you caught his gaze you saw it had softened considerably. He looked relieved and you noticed the slight part of his lips as he turned away, going to another room and reappearing a moment later with a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that looked like it would even be big on him.

    “Why don’t you change into some dry clothes. We can throw your wet ones in the dryer.” He nodded to the clothes dryer that was in the bathroom. “I’ll go make us some new coffee while you swap out.” He set the clothes down on the toilet seat and gave you a half smile. “Mi casa es tu casa.”

    He left you then with a soft closing of the door and you felt a flood of relief course through your body. He wasn’t mad or upset or hell - anything that you thought he may be. Instead he was kind and courteous and worried, and you’d be damned if that didn’t make your heart melt even more. You thought of the moment when he had opened the front door and the dark look in his eyes and the tick of his jaw. It made a low heat curl in your belly at the memory.

    Was it wrong to think those things of someone who clearly wanted what was best for you at that moment? Pedro was, in all essence, taking pity and caring for you and all you could think about was warming yourself up by crawling into his lap. You were horrible, you decided, but the kind of horrible that could be forgiven later.

    You did change out of your clothes then, pausing as you tried to decide if you were going to keep your bra and underwear on but argued they would just soak the dry clothing. Off those went and joined the pile in the sink. You did a quick rub down with the towel to at least try to get most of the water off and then squeezed it through your hair before you stepped into the sweatpants and large tee-shirt, silently thanking the world at how warm they were. You wrung out your clothes as best as you could before you tossed them in the dryer and pressed ‘start’.

    When you opened the door the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit you and it instantly set you at ease. You padded your way into the kitchen but didn’t find Pedro there and instead turned to find him sitting on the couch without his red suit jacket on. Two cups of coffee set on coasters in front of him and a small spread of sugar and cream were there, too. The entire set up screamed ‘casual but obvious effort.”

    “Hey…” You rounded the side of the couch and sat next to him, unsure if this was alright. It was just your nerves.

    “Hey. I see everything fits well!” He teased lightly. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee so I figured I would let you do your own. I also turned the heat up a little to help get you warm.” Which would explain the missing jacket.

    Pedro took one of the cups and pressed it into your hands, his own wrapping around yours for a moment. “If you’re still too cold I can grab you a blanket or a sweatshirt.”

    “I think I have enough of your clothes on. If I end up with more I’m afraid that you might not get something back.”

    “Is that so?” The corners of his mouth quirked up in a devious smirk, hands coming to his own cup of coffee to lift to his lips, eyes peering just over the rim of his mug. “Well, I will have to take inventory of all articles of clothing before and after you leave.” Was he flirting with you?

    You hid behind your own cup of coffee, blushing. “What I mean is that it looks expensive and I could never afford some of the clothes you wear.” Even though you were pretty sure these ones were borrowed from the wardrobe department from the shoot.

    “Hm. Here I thought you were wanting a little memento from me.” He chuckled and you nearly choked on your coffee as you inhaled it a little too quick and it went down the wrong pipe. He was flirting, now, you decided as you tried not to die.

    “Hey, hey now…” His hand came to your back, patting you lightly to help you cough up the coffee. “Didn’t mean to make you choke! You okay?” He was finding far too much amusement in your predicament and you were caught between laughing with him and locking yourself back in the bathroom to wait for your clothes to finish drying.

    It took you a minute but you finally stopped coughing, your eyes burning and your pride non-existent. Pedro’s hand, however, was still on your back. He was no longer patting in efforts to help you but now his fingertips were stroking over the gentle curve of your spine, thumb pressing into the muscle just beneath your shoulder blades.

    “Sorry.” You croaked, voice scratchy from the coughing fit. “I wasn’t expecting to be called out so quickly. You certainly know my end game.” You hid your embarrassment with sass and you had to put the coffee down before you did any damage. Pedro’s hand stilled as you moved, but he didn’t stop touching you, not even as you leaned back again.

“You’re still cold. I can feel it through the shirt.” His arm slid across your shoulders as he tucked you closer to his side. You both sat in a stretch of silence as he waited for the silent permission of his touch. You realized he was stiff and not as at ease as you thought he would be. You rested your hand on his knee, fingertips curling against the red cotton of his pants as you leaned in against him, nose tucking against his side. You felt him relax then.

    “Thank you for this.” You whispered as you let your fingers trace his kneecap.

    “Of course. I couldn’t let a damsel stay in distress.” He let his other hand, now coffee less as he set his mug on a side table, come to yours on his knee, fingers lacing to hold your hand. “But I do have a confession to make, if I may…”

    “Hm?” You felt warm and cozy. You hadn’t quite expected that you were going to find yourself cuddling with this charming man today, but you weren’t going to complain either. The weather had taken a toll on you and you were quite ready for a nap. Pedro wasn’t helping either with the slow inhale and exhale of his breath that rocked you like a boat on a lake. Gentle and lovely.

    “I would very much like to kiss you.”

    He squeezed the hand on his knee before unlocking their hold and bringing his fingers to your chin, turning your face to his. He bumped your noses a moment, lips ghosting just over yours in a teasing breath.

    “May I?” He whispered. “Please, tell me what you want.”

        You shifted, your thighs rubbing together as you felt the curling heat span in your belly and you suddenly felt very, very hot. Pedro kept his gaze steady on yours, never once faltering as he waited for your consent. He was so close that you could smell the hint of coffee on his breath, the smell of the aftershave and cologne on his skin.

    “Please...yes, Pedro.” He tilted your chin a little higher, lips just touching. A mockery of a kiss as he smiled wickedly. “Please, kiss me.”

    He did then, his lips pressing firmly into yours as his hand slipped to cup your cheek. Neither of you moved for that moment, letting each other take in the press of your mouths until you let your hand slip a little higher, fingers tracing the seam of his pants on his inner leg and it broke the reserve he had. Pedro groaned low and he all but lifted you into his lap, your legs splaying on either sides of his hips.

    His mouth never left yours as he moved, his hands coming to grip the gentle curve of your hips, pulling you closer to him, yours breasts pushing steady against his chest. He groaned into your mouth as his hips rolled up and you felt the sudden hard length of him against your thigh.

    “Fuck -” You moaned out at the feel of him.    “I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you, hermosa.” Pedro’s voice was husky against your skin as he moved his hands under your ass, fingers tight as he shifted your hips together, pushing his clothed cock up into your hand. “You lit up the room, you know. The moment you stepped foot into the light, I was taken away. Captured.”

    You couldn’t help but let your fingers curl around his length and give a gentle squeeze, testing the size of him and oh - oh, he was large beneath your fingertips. Pedro tipped his head against yours, lips ghosting along your nose.

    “Take off your clothes.” He breathed and you moved with him to pull your shirt over your head, his hands immediately coming to undo your bra and let your breasts hang free. His head dips to take a nipple in your mouth and you arch into the wet heat and you hiss when he sets his teeth against the sensitive skin.

    “Shit - Pedro. I need - “ You needed him out of his shirt, too. But it was hard to coerce him out of it when he was attached to you like he was. You pushed him away a little, trying to create space enough to get him out of his shirt, your fingers working at the buttons in a clumsy haste.

    “Bed.” Pedro grunts and you two move off of the couch, peeling from each other. You still kept your hands on him as he guided you to the bedroom and you both all but fell into the large bed. Pedro rolled to the side to flick on the bedside lamp to fill the room with a soft glow and the light highlighted the deep amber in his eyes. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

    “C’mere.” You motion to him as you lay back on the plush pillows, arms stretched out to take Pedro in. He comes above you and rests on his forearms as he slides a knee up between your legs, making them spread wide and he settles there, his hips rolling into the crux of your thighs.

    You arch up to meet him again and he presses a kiss against your mouth, licking you open. He tugs at your pants insistently and you lift your hips up to let him shimmy them over your soft curves and down your legs. You kick them off in a haste and Pedro pauses, lifting himself to lean back on his knees, staring down at you. You blush under his gaze because it's so heavy, so slow. You don’t remember any man, any person for that matter, who looked at you like that. It was so needy.

    “Eres tan hermosa. You are so beautiful.” He reaches out and drags his fingertips along the side of your face, down your neck and across your collarbone. He keeps going lower and lower, mapping your body out with his touch until he comes to touch your between your legs. His fingers tease your outer lips first, a gentle drag of his knuckles and then he moves in deeper, pressing a thumb against your clit and circling.

    You moaned as he pressed a little more firm to work you into your pleasure and the tip of a finger teased you open and curled. Gods, he was good at this. You clenched around him and he added a second finger, curling up to rub against the textured spot inside you.

    “Pedro.” You moaned out as he continued to work you and you felt your climax climb, your body taught with need. “Pedro, I’m - fuck, I’m close. Don’t stop. Don’t -”

    “Por favor, mi amor. Cum for me.”

    You did as he told you, your eyes closing and head tilting up to close out the world as you focused only on your orgasm. He continued to stroke you inside, his thumb continuously applying the delicious pressure on your clit and only eased up after your thighs stopped trembling, returning to a soft stroke.

    Pedro caught your gaze as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, slipping them against his tongue, sucking in, tasting your orgasm that he brought out of you. He left you breathless. You parted your legs again as an invitation and his gaze dropped to the movement. Pedro shimmied his pants off, tossing them over the side of the bed and you wanted very much to touch him but he instead fumbled with the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom.

    You watched as he rolled the condom on with an ease and he moved over you again, taking your hands in his, twining your fingers together. It was an intimate gesture and one you adored. Pedro seemed like he couldn’t get close enough to you, even as he pressed his flush skin against yours.

    He slid into you easily with how wet you were and he bottomed out in you almost immediately, stretching you full. Pedro lets out a groan, his head dropping to yours as he rocked into your cunt. He was so intimate in this, so incredibly loving, and to a person whom he only just met. You felt him love with his entire being and it was a gorgeous act that he gifted you.

    “I won’t last long, I’m afraid.” He grunts out between thrusts. You bring your legs up and around him, pulling him closer and his thrusts turn into a grind. You were still blissfully sensitive from your climax earlier and you were more than okay with his admission. He took care of you first, above his own pleasure. “Please, Pedro. It’s okay. Please, just...it’s good.” You didn’t know what to say in his softness but you knew it was the right thing because he ground into you harder, his hips snapping as he tightened his grip. His mouth dropped open in a silent moan as he came, his rhythm breaking into stillness.

        “You will have to forgive me.” Pedro breaks into a wide smile against your neck as he relaxes against you, his weight dropping like a blanket. “You are far too soft for any man to last long.” He pulls from you and glances down to take off the spent condom and set it in the trash that was next to the bed. He settled beside you, his head propped up on his hand, his other tracing along your stomach.

    “You flatter me far too much.” You giggle, smacking his hand away. It instead settles against your face, his thumb brushing under your eye.

    “Will you stay with me tonight?” He asked.

    The offer wasn’t one you were expecting. In all honesty, you didn’t really expect any of this, but perhaps you were naive when it came to what coffee dates entailed now, not that you were complaining.

    “Of course.”

    You didn’t think he could light up any more than he already was, but he did. His face became childlike and gleeful. He was adorable, really.

    “Fantastic. I’ll make sure we get some proper coffee in the morning. Promise.”

[meichenxi]

Grimm’s Law and Verner’s Law: part 1 - Indo-European background

OR: how ‘cannabis’ and ‘hemp’ are actually cognates

tldr: sound change is cool and this great series of videos can explain it better than I can: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aal9VSPkf5s. this is going to be the first of a few posts on sound change in German and English. I originally wanted to explain the second sound shift, but quickly realised that it doesn’t make sense without any of the historical context, so please bear with me

What makes a language Germanic? Imagine for a moment that you’re an alien a la Matt Haig, newly arrived to Earth and presented with a sample of the world’s languages - or specifically, part of Eurasia’s. Some languages look very similar to each other; some very different. How would you go about building a hypothesis about which languages were related to each other, and which weren’t? How would you then test this hypothesis? And how, presented finally with data that shows your languages are related, would you explain how these changes came to happen in the first place? 

Before we go on to Germanic, though, let’s talk about Indo-European today. You guys probably all know that IE is a large language family that stretches from Icelandic to Hindi; Germanic is one of the sub-groupings of this wider IE family. Within the sub-family itself, there are divisions: German is more closely related to Dutch, Norwegian to Swedish, Icelandic to Faroese and so on. This seems all fairly obvious to us now. 

Way back when many centuries ago (not that many centuries, and certainly long after the Bible began), the idea of a language family spanning English to Russian to Farsi was a little less obvious. For much of the 17th century, people (esp a bishop dude called John Wilkins) sought to prove that English was related to Hebrew - this was an important endeavour at the time, because it would lend the language religious authority, especially in its translation of the Bible. Fast forwarding to the 18th century, a man named Sir Williams Jones who lived in Bengal realised - on account of his classical education and extensive contact with Indian languages - that there were much greater similarities between Latin, Greek and Sanskrit than anybody had previously realised. He wasn’t the first to think it, but he was one of the first to make such a definitive statement. The following quote is probably one of the most famous in historical linguistics, so I apologise for quoting it in full: ‘The Sanscrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of verbs and the forms of grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three, without believing them to have spring from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists: there is a similar reason, though not quite so forcible, for supposing that both the Gothick and the Celtick, though blended with a very different idiom, had the same origin with the Sanscrit, and the old Persian might be added to this family.’

He was wrong in a lot of ways - he excluded some languages that do belong in this family and erroneously included others. He also wasn’t the first to come up with this idea. This quote, more than anything, marks the beginning of people’s interest in the ‘common source’: how could such a thing ever be proven, if we didn’t have access to the language itself?  Part of the building ground for Indo-European historical linguistics was the desire to prove that linguistics was an empirical science much like any other, with laws that held universally and hypotheses that could be tested and demonstrably falsified. This rested on two principles both promoted by the Junggramatiker, or Neogrammarians, a Leipzig based group of scholars. Firstly, that sound change - the process by which sounds change, arise and disappear - was a highly regular process that held universally and obeyed certain rules. Secondly, that languages that exist today are structurally and in principle no different from languages that existed thousands of years ago - that is, we have no reason to assume that processes existed in the past that don’t exist today. This is called the uniformitarian principle. 

If both of these things are true, that means that it would be possible to not only determine how exactly these languages were related, but also reconstruct an earlier version of the language once spoken by all Indo-Europeans!! (I hope you agree that this is immensely cool.) 

Reconstructing these rules is important, because it allows us to better understand structural similarities between languages. There are some similarities which are surface deep: it’s easy to compare English cold and German kalt or warm and - well - warm, and say that they look alike. Pfad and path is a little harder, but when you compared Pfeffer and pepper it’s clear, ok, there’s a <pf> / <p> alteration going on there. Leaving the Germanic family behind, though, things get a little more tricky. 

How exactly is venue cognate with come? What about English quick and Latin vīvus? And how can sister and Hindi bahan possibly be cognates??

Some of the most meaningful observations are structural; they are not surface deep, and they’re not immediately available for study. This is because, quite simply, the time depth since Indo-European was spoken is vast; there have been extensive sound changes in all of the languages concerned. 

And that’s exactly what Grimm’s Law is. It’s a sound change that happened specifically in the Germanic branch of Indo-European, so it’s common to all Germanic languages, and nothing else. It’s one of those diagnostic criteria that an alien would use to determine that Norwegian and Dutch were related: it’s present, apart from where further sound change has obscured it, in every Germanic language - and it’s not present, apart from in borrowed words, in any non-Germanic language. That’s what we mean by diagnostic. 

Let’s have a look at some examples! We’ll explain it in more detail next time, but this might whet your appetite. Don’t worry if you can’t read the phonetic description; it’s the consonants that are important at the moment (don’t, please, ask me about vowels. just please don’t).

(nb: where I use an asterisk *, this means that this form is reconstructed, not actually attested: we don't have any records of IE. > just means ‘goes to’ or ‘becomes’ in the various daughter languages. Also <these> brackets are talking about spelling, and /these/ brackets are talking about phonemes, or actual sounds. Also, the little ‘ means aspiration - we’ll talk more about what that means next time)

*p > f (no later shift in German, though /f/ is sometimes spelled v):

Engl. brother, Germ. Bruder (cf. Lat. frāter, Skt. bhrā́tā)

Engl. full, Germ. voll (cf. Lat. plēnus, Skt. pūrṇás)

*t > *þ (Engl. th) > Germ. d

Engl. three, Germ. drei (cf. Lat. trēs, Gk. /trê:s/, Skt. tráyas) Engl. thin, Germ. dünn (cf. Lat. tenuis, Skt. tanús)

*ḱ, *k > h (no later shift in German):

Engl. hundred, Germ. hundert (cf. Lat. centum, Gk. /he-katón/, Skt.

śatám)

Engl. horn, Germ. Horn (cf. Lat. cornū)

*kw > *hw (Engl. wh) > Germ. w:

Engl. what, Germ. was (cf. Lat. adjective & relative quod, Skt. kád)

*d > *t (Engl. t) > Germ. z:

Engl. two, Germ. zwei (cf. Lat. duo, Gk. /dúo/, Skt. dvā́)

BRUH. ISN’T THIS COOL!! AND THERE ARE MORE!

You can see here already by looking at the German and English that both have sometimes subsequently undergone sound changes, like English */hw/ to /wh/ and then finally to /w/, which becomes German <w> or /v/ - these sometimes obscure things. And if you really want to find out why German is different to English, well, we’ve got quite a few sound changes to get through before we get there! 

Melissa, you might be saying, I know for a fact there’s something yucky and not-worky about Grimm’s Law. What about cases where it doesn’t seem to apply? What’s that? Also, I swear some Danish dude had the idea first but just didn’t publish...

Well. You’re not wrong. But this post is long enough already. Next time, we’ll go over what exactly it is, where exactly it manifests itself, and how it didn’t seem to work 100% of the time...and I suppose I still haven’t answered how ‘hemp’ and ‘cannabis’ are cognates...you’ll just have to stay tuned! 

Bis zum nächsten Mal! 

[bleufrost]

Hi!! Don’t know if you write smut but I’ve been wanting a recent Hellboy smut to read ;) Maybe the reader is trying to avoid her feelings for him and he notices this and they do stuff in a closet or something????

Hellboy x reader (nsfw)

a/n: this took longer than it should have to answer, im so sorry love! im trying so hard not to go overboard with shorter requests but damn its difficult for me lol

masterlist

warnings: smut, a little rough play but overall soft

You had spent far too long hiding your feelings for Red for it to all come crumbling down now. Everything you said and did was calculated down to even the minimally possible implications, yet no amount of planning and deep thinking could fix what had been done.

The BPRD had sent you out on a mission with Red. A simple one really. All you guys had to do was find the succubus and neutralize her. Men had been going missing throughout the city for weeks and you all had finally found out why. It was an in and out mission; really, it was simple as could be.

Except it wasn’t.

The succubus put up a grand fight, refusing to stop when you and HB had asked her nicely. Of course, Red could hardly hold his temper and an argument turned into full out war within the span of a few seconds. In the end you guys stopped her, but not before she shared a little tidbit of information about certain sexual feelings for a certain big red spawn of hell that you had.

Needless to say, you avoided Red like the plague when you both got back to the place you called home. He tried endlessly to talk to you, at first teasing and then sincere. You were far too embarrassed to hear any of it though.

After a week of near misses and ducking into janitor closets, your luck was bound to run out.

Your breath came out in shallow puffs as you made your best attempt to stay silent in the dark closet. Not a moment ago you had seen Red walking down the hall toward you. The closet was all too easy an escape route, but you weren’t sure if he would have the same train of thought.

You’re quickly broken from your wondering when the door slams open and Red stands before you, anger and frustration marring his features.

“Hi?” You wave sheepishly at the guy and make to move around him, but he suddenly pushes you back into the small space and follows behind you closing the door.

“You gonna tell me what the fuck is with the constant hiding?” He’s mad, that’s for sure. Looking up into his eyes you can almost see the fire, which does nothing for the growing desire you have for him.

“I wasn’t hiding. Just so happened to not run into you much lately. There’s a difference, Red.” Letting out a laugh to lighten the mood, his hand comes up and silences you immediately. He pushes both palms against the wall on either side of your body, trapping you in and deepening the pull in your lower belly. You could lean up and kiss him with ease at this angle.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Are you gonna keep lying to me, because I’ll be more than happy to make you tell the truth.” Red nearly growls out the words, teeth clenched and voice low. Your hands seem to have a mind of their own as they come up and lay against his chest. You can feel the pounding of his heart and suddenly you find yourself pulling him closer.

Your lips meet his in rough urgency. The two of you act as though this is the only way to survive for what feels like forever. He pulls back first, slamming you against the wall. You take notice of the fact that his hands protect you from the impact and take the full force of the blow.

Looking down into your eyes he growls lowly once more. “What did I say? You either tell me the truth or I make you. Choose. One.” The fire in his stare burns through you in the most delicious way, setting your senses aflame with need.

Quickly you wrap your arms around his neck and push yourself up to his ear. You bite at his lobe for a second and lick up the shell. “Make me.”

It’s a simple command, but Hellboy is always eager to make such things into a fight. He grips your waist tightly and pulls you up to straddle him with ease. You can feel his hard length pressing against your core and you can’t help the loud moan that escapes your throat.

Hellboy chuckles as he grinds into you, unrelenting as you begin to whimper into his neck. He grabs your face with one hand and pulls you to look at him before kissing you roughly.

“Is this what you want? Huh? You want to get fucked in a damn closet?” You nod and let out a little cry against his lips, feeling the low rumble in his throat as he groans. “I need you to tell me, baby. I need to hear you say it.” Your breaths come out shaky, you know that if you can’t feel him stretching your walls out soon you might just break down. Your grip tightens around his neck as he pulls you impossibly closer and his cock rubs your clit in just the right way. To hell with pride and embarrassment.

“I want you, Red. I want to feel you inside of me, please.” It’s a shameless cry and he takes no time at all to comply. Red puts you down for all of two seconds to rid you of your shorts. He pulls his pants down and his large hands are already feeding your needy cunt before you can even grasp what is happening.

A thick finger pushes into your entrance making you nearly scream with pleasure. Red uses his other hand to cup your breasts. He rolls a clothed nipple around for a moment before pulling your shirt aside and leaning down to take the pink bud into his mouth.

A second finger pushes into you and he takes up a relentless pace. “I wanna get you nice and wet for me, okay baby? I need you to be ready to take me all in alright?” You nod and feel your knees shake as he pounds his fingers into your core.

There’s a fire that soon begins to rise in your belly, lighting you up from inside. His fingers don’t stop as you begin to clench around him. Instead he just chuckles and keeps moving them in and out. “You cumming for me? Soaking my fingers in your sweetness baby? Good girl.” The praise only helps to elongate your orgasm and he helps you ride it all out before removing his fingers. Red licks them clean, lifting them to your mouth after and tells you to spit.

His cock is hard and angry as he uses your spit and juices to coat himself from base to head. “Are you ready for me babe?” Red looks down, genuinely asking the question to ensure you were okay; it melted your heart.

“Yes, please Red. I want you.” It’s all he needs to hear. Red slowly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing his cock along your lips a few times and swirling it around your sensitive clit. You gasp and hold tight to him.

When he notices you struggling to stand on shaky legs, he lifts you once more to straddle his waist. His cock pushes past your entrance, and he slowly pushes in until he’s completely wrapped in your pussy. Your walls stretch around his cock and he fits in a way that causes you to burn in a pleasurable pain that you knew you were going to crave for the rest of your life.

You’re the first to start moving, lifting your hips up until he was barely inside of you, then pushing back down to feel him deep in your core once more. It takes only a few deep thrusts until Red decides to take control. He fucks you deep and hard, using the hands cupping your ass to occasionally smack it when you get a little too loud.

You take his face in your much smaller hands and kiss him deeply, feeling his cock hitting a spot deep inside you that you barely knew existed. Everything around you smells of sex and need as he continues to thrust up into you, bouncing you up and down on his hard member and driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Are you close baby? I want you to cum with me.” His voice is rough and much lower than normal; something you didn’t know was possible but now questioned if you could live without. You kiss him again before answering in shaky gasps. “I’m so close, please don’t stop.”

Red tightens his grip on you and pushes deeper into you than you thought possible. You kiss him fiercely as your walls begin to spasm around his throbbing cock and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure as his warm cum shoots into your tight heat.

His moans mix with yours as you both use each other’s mouths to swallow the otherwise loud shouts of pleasure. Your orgasms slowly come to an end and you find it difficult to open your eyes. Red is in no hurry to move either though, so you take the moment to catch your breath and come down from the high he just put you through.

When both of your breathing has become sufficiently normal again, you open your eyes and let out a small giggle, kissing him gently.

“The truth is, I’ve been wanting you to do that since I first got here.” Red laughs a low rumbling of amusement. He puts you down slowly but leans in again to kiss you gently on the forehead.

“Well, babe, I’m happy to do it again whenever you want.”

a/n: requests are open for headcannons and shorter drabbles/fics!! have a good day loves! 

also does anyone know how to add a keep reading to answers? they seem to disappear :((

[ficletsbynaria]

(Characters of your choice) if possible, could you do some of the boys with a s/o with a huge dog? And the boy's reaction to the big ol' floofer? I have a Great Pyrenees and he is literally the sweetest dog ever, and when he's on his hind legs, he's as tall as me. It'd be fun to see how some of the lads would react!

okay I searched up great pyrenees and !!! 

THEY’RE THE ABSOLUTE CUTEST I WANT 50. as a fellow dog lover (and owner of a floof chowchow), I enjoyed making these hcs that I ended up making it longer than I planned it to be oops 😳😳😳🤪

I went and chose my bnha bois: kiri, baku, mido, and mirio for the headcanon :>> since they scream dog lovers pls excuse my dumb nicknames for the boys lmao

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1,789 words

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘: Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Togata Mirio

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖘: none

𝙺𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚊

★ when you told him about having a pet dog, he was ELATED

★ like he was more excited about it than you ever saw him

★ maybe u were jealous about it even

★ and when you described your doggo as one belonging to a huge breed

★ he was so enthusiastic about it

★ asking how big they were, how playful they acted

★ bb boi just was so excited about dogs

★ finally you two got home and Kiri almost passes out

★ YOUR DOG WAS A BIG BALL OF FLOOF

★ your baby was a samoyed and she was the prettiest ever

★ kiri most likely fell in love again

★ your dog absolutely loved Kiri

★ it was love at first sight basically

★ he was so mesmerized by your dog’s fur

★ described it as a cloud that he can hug

★ calls your doggo ‘cloudy’ as a nickname

★ it’s even funnier and cute bc cloudy looks so soft while Kiri’s quirk is hardening

★ opposites truly attract

★ cloudy and kiri just enjoyed each other’s presence so much

★ cloudy thrived in Kiri’s love and attention

★ and your boyfriend had enough to give her just that

★ your big doggo and your big strong bf

★ it looked like the perfect family portrait

★ I think you almost cried while staring lovingly at them

★ and while u had your tears of joy

★ both cloudy and Kiri noticed your mood shift

★ and they just shower you with kisses !! (dog kisses included)

★ kiri DEMANDED you three take a picture together

★ and he talked about bragging on how he had the best s/o AND THE GOODEST GIRL in the whole wide world (kiri’s words not mine)

★ those muscles aren’t just for hero work wink wonk

★ they’re for giving hugs and holding your huge doggo up in his arms

★ kiri loves your dog and cloudy loves kiri

★ you love them just as much 🥰🥰

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

𝙱𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚐𝚘𝚞

★ you mentioned your dog in ur convos with Baku before

★ but never really stated what kind of breed your dog was

★ and Baku never really asked about it so meh

★ so when you actually introduced your dog to him, it was hilarious and terrifying at the same time

★ your Neapolitan mastiff was very protective of you (and he was huge AN ABSOLUTE UNIT HAVE YOU SEEN THEM)

★ as was Bakugou (the protective one I mean but the huge part can also apply hmmm)

★ you were worried they’d actually fight with each other

★ your dog would win no cap

★ but Bakugou does not condone violence against animals *chefs kiss*

★ your doggo had a really close bond with you so it’s understandable that he would be wary of any stranger

★ you ended up becoming the mediator between Baku and your dog

★ but eventually, you had to leave them both alone in the living room (rip), since you had to go fetch (lmao fetch get it) something in your kitchen

★ fear for your bf and dog’s lives intensifies

★ your dog had this intimidating aura that scared off strangers, considering his size and all

★ and Baku was the type that challenged every person he’s met, with a fight

★ so both boys might not be compatible sigh

★ you wondered if Baku preferred smaller dogs (plot twist he loves every dog no matter the size)

★ that is until you were almost in the living room and spotted Baku kneeling to your dog’s level

★ you hid in the corner and watched everything unfold

★ you ALMOST choked on your spit when u heard Baku CONVERSING with your doggo

★ it’s not that the whole act was stupid, you’re just surprised that it was something Bakugou would do

★ eavesdropping a little more, you heard Baku sigh

★ “look we’re here for them for the same thing”

★ “I want to take care of them and you want to protect them”

★ “so we should just get along and cut the bullshit”

★ that was the most rational thing you ever heard from Baku

★ and he was saying it to your DOG

★ if your mastiff could talk, you think he would’ve agreed.

★ instead, as you peeked, you saw your dog slowly lowering their guard around Baku

★ probs sensing that he means no harm

★ and just ??? NUDG ES HIS HEAD ?? on Bakugou’s hand ?? (omg can u imagine that would be so 🥺🥺🥺🥺)

★ SO BAKUGOU JUSTS LOVINGLY PETS HIM ???

★ your heart exploded with uwus

★ you might’ve uwued loudly bc Baku and your doggo noticed your presence

★ Baku was about to shout at you for spying on him

★ BUT YOU SWEAR you saw your dog give Bakugou a warning look

★ Baku chose to shut up instead cus he knows your doggo ain’t playing

★ but you’re absolutely sure that Bakugou and your mastiff liked each other now

★ bc yes they do have a common goal,, and that is love and protecc u uwu

★ bonus: Baku insists you call him ‘lord explosion murder’ and you reluctantly agree

★ extra bonus: your dog loves it

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

𝙼𝚒𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚢𝚊

★ you were very sure that Mido was a dog person

★ even before you two dated

★ you had your own doggo and she was a sweetheart 🥺🥺

★ exactly like Midoriya

★ when you dated him, you kept the ‘owning a dog’ part secret from Midoriya for personal reasons

★ just so you could see the surprised and joyful expression on his face when he met her

★ so when you actually invited him over to your house

★ your dog came over and greeted you happily !!! doggos are so pure i love it when mine does that 

★ and you saw Midoriya freeze, shortcircuit, then internally fangirl at your dog in the span of 5 seconds

★ your Saint Bernard noticed Midoriya’s excitement and went over to greet him too

★ your doggo was snuggling up to Mido and the sight was just 🥰🥰🥰 

★ two cinnamon rolls being the most adorable

★ speaking of cinnamon rolls, Mido started calling her ‘cinnamon’ because of her fur’s color

★ so Midoriya kept asking, whenever he got the opportunity, to take cinnamon out for a walk

★ you happily obliged, bc that whole scenario seemed so purifying in theory

★ your big doggo with your smol bf, a healthy balance

★ walks with cinnamon and Mido would be an experience in itself

★ like you’re used to people commenting about how big your dog was and how they’re kinda intimidating

★ but Mido being Mido, would overhear people who would say that and just go “actUALLY”

★ and he drones about how cinnamon’s breed is family-friendly and very gentle

★ so there’s nothing to be afraid of PSA IT’S NOT THE DOG’S FAULT IF THEY’RE AGGRESSIVE,, IT’S THE OWNER THAT MADE THEM LIKE THAT ! ok moving on

★ you’re so grateful to have Mido by ur side AND defending your dog get a man like Midoriya 

★ when the people are actually educated by Mido’s lecture, they ask if they can pet cinnamon

★ you say yes, and cinnamon is just happy to receive some love and attention

★ Midoriya even convinced some parents to let their kids play with your dog (with u and ur dog’s consent ofc)

★ the walk turned into the cutest playdate ever

★ and you see cinnamon just giving Mido sum kisses and your heart just did 10 backflips

★ in conclusion, Mido + big dog = wholesome content

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

𝙼𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚘

★ OF COURSE MIRIO SCREAMED DOG LOVER ENERGY

★ i will hold onto this hc on my deathbed

★ n e ways

★ ITS ALSO A HUGE (lmao ok I should stop) PLUS THAT YOUR DOGGO WAS BIG

★ and Mirio was just a big ol hunk himself (you can confirm the big part if u know what I mean)

★ so it was a match made in heaven

★ you mentioned to him about having a doggo at home and he was all giddy

★ when he asked about the breed, you told him yours was a Bordeauxdog

★ he immediately searches up what they look like

★ and stars were shining in his eyes 🥺🥺

★ “They’re like me!” he exclaimed and you wholeheartedly agreed

★ the day came when Mirio and your dog would see each other

★ you promised to bring your doggo to him at the park, since Mirio saw that the breed needed to be active outdoors and suggested a morning jog lmao great idea mirio jk

★ 5am and you were there at dawn just bringing your huge boy to the park

★ can you imagine walking a very big dog at the crack at dawn,,, that seems so cool tho

★ You spotted Mirio stretching in the distance and called out to him

★ once he noticed you he l i t e r a l l y ran over to you and your doggo

★ he had so much energy for someone who woke up before sunrise

★ your dog was mostly the same too, mimicking Mirio’s excitement BIG UWU

★ just two excited boys and you were there, too tired to even find it cute

★ but their interaction was a good enough reason to be happy about waking up in the morning 🥰🥰🥰

★ Mirio volunteers to jog with your dog, and you saw that your doggo already warmed up to Mirio and that you were too dead in the inside to actually jog, so you let them have their fun

★ a few paces behind mirio and your doggo, you saw how fitting the scene looked

★ Mirio looked more like your dog’s owner than yourself, the connection was so natural

★ You wanted to slap Mirio over the head for wanting to call your dog ‘Junior’ since you said they were so alike

★ Mirio and his weird nicknames but its kinda cute ngl

★ after the jog, you and Mirio just passed out on your bed, worn out from the exercise and waking up really early

★ Both of you had a peaceful cuddle session

★ SIKE

★ It just so happened that junior likes your bed and claims it as his own

★ and he so conveniently forgot that you and Mirio were lying on it

★ MIRIO WAS ALREADY BIG ENOUGH IN YOUR KING-SIZED BED

★ having a Bordeaux dog settle himself on your bed was anything but pleasant

★ he lied down between you and Mirio (almost suffocating you) and you swore Mirio was just laughing at your demise

★ you maybe have to ban both boys away from your bed 🙄😳 

[thewritewolf]

Multiple Second Chances Chapter 25: Cheek Kisses

Multimouse gathers her courage and prepares to reveal all secrets between her and Aspik.

@adrinetteapril

Enjoy!

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Read on Ao3

Multimouse did her best to steady her nerves as she met up with Aspik for patrol. The thought brought an ironic smile to her lips. After all, she’d been patrolling with Aspik, in some way or another, for a lot longer than she had believed.

The idea that Adrien and Aspik and Chat Noir were all the same person was still really hard to wrap her head around. How they had both managed to pick each other to be their new partner was almost unbelievable, but it was like Tikki had been explaining to her. She was looking for someone as kind and brave and courteous as Chat Noir. Was it any wonder she just ended up picking him again?

Her smile faded as she remembered that she needed to tell him all of that. How was he going to react? Happy that Ladybug and Multimouse and Marinette were all the same person? Frustrated that they were always so close, but so far? Mad that she had done the same thing he had, and hidden that they knew each other’s identities? It was hard to say, but something in her gut told her that everything would work out just fine. Even if that same gut felt full of butterflies at the moment.

She landed with a splash, grateful that the suits were water proof and at least a little resistance to the heat and cold. The rain still hadn’t let up, giving all of Paris a grey look. Aspik looked behind him, no doubt hearing her arrival and his face lit up like the sun. In fact, she could almost trick herself into thinking that there was a faint blush creeping out from under his mask.

“Multimouse! Great timing.” He stretched out as he stood. “Ready for what might be one of our last patrols?”

“Y-yeah,” she said, her nerves feeling taunt and frayed. This was going to be an emotional conversation and she hadn’t even fully pulled herself together from the revelation yet. There was a long moment as she stood there...

“Last one across Paris is a rotten egg!” Aspik said, a manic grin on his face.

...And then the moment was gone as he leapt off the roof, disappearing over the edge. She blinked, shocked for a moment. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go!

Naturally, she chased after him. Through the rain and across empty streets, always right on his tail. At some point, she realized it wasn’t so much a patrol as a game of tag. One which she was determined to win. All thoughts of confessions and reveals were pushed aside for just a few more minutes as she let herself fully sink into the game.

It wasn’t Aspik or Chat Noir or Adrien anymore. She wasn’t Multimouse or Ladybug or Marinette. It was just her and him. No matter the masks they wore, no matter what they chose to call themselves. Chasing each other, having each other’s backs. Always.

An hour passed. Multimouse jumped just after they landed on another rooftop, like so many others in the city. She slammed into his back and they went rolling. Somehow she ended up on top of him. With a self satisfied smirk, she looked down at him.

“I win!”

Surprise turned to mirth, and she watched it all happen in the span of a few seconds. An honest, happy laugh bubbled out of him, reminded her of another time, another rainstorm. It also reminded her just who she had pinned, prompting her to let out a strangled eep and roll off of him.

He looked at her with a bemused smile as he propped himself up on his elbows. They shared a look, nothing but the sound of rain falling between them before he got to his feet and offered her a hand. She gladly took it and he pulled her up. To her surprise, he didn’t let go. Her eyes went to his face and she knew she wasn’t imagining it this time. A light blush, just creeping out from his mask. He was looking bashfully to the side, rubbing the back of his neck.

“S-sorry,” he said, letting go of her hand. “I guess… I guess I’m just feeling a little emotional about not patrolling with you anymore.”

A part of her wanted to tell him, let him know that they would be patrolling together for a long time to come yet, but she was rooted to the spot. Partially by curiosity and partially by hope.

“I… like to think we’ve grown really close over the last month of all this.” His eyes flickered to hers and she nodded, unable to form words. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is…”

He stepped closer, so close she could feel his heat over the chill of the rain. Multimouse’s heart was in her throat, pounding away at a frantic pace. He leaned down, pressed a feather light kiss to her cheek, which was lost to the pouring rain. While he was so close, he whispered near her ear.

“I’ll miss this time with you.”

Then he was backing away, as if he wanted to spend as much time looking at her as possible. He jumped away, no doubt heading back home, but that wasn’t what was on her mind at that moment. Truth be told, there wasn’t much on her mind at all. It was like white noise, stunned senseless by what had just happened.

She was shaken out of her reverie with a squeak of a sneeze.

Deciding she ought to have her profound revelations in the comfort of her own home, she finally forced her legs to move. Wait until the kwamis hear about this!

[yoonchrisgull]

Captain Park || pjm (1)

-> Synopsis: "A salty pirate needs his beautiful mermaid." 

 He appears and claims he wouldn't hurt her. She chooses not to trust him and escapes before he can get to her. A wee did she knew, the King of the Seven Seas and of all Pirates was hunting her down for a total different reason than she thought. 

-> Pairing: captain jimin x princess reader

-> Genre: romance . Fluff . Smut (in future chapters)

-> Words: 12k Word

-> Chapters: preview - 1 - 2

-> Warning: kidnapping, betrayal, almost death (the old pirate way), again betrayal cause no one is trustworthy, gentleman jimin, yellow teeth cause they pirates, smelly boys (they think being clean is uncool), jimin is such a softy ya’ll will fall in love, magic ship and shits, jimin is too sexy (you have been warned)

-> About: jimin is a dom daddy pirate, he literally controls the seven seas and its really really really attractive, reader is soft and lovable, jimin is really soft for the reader, he is literally whipped and could eat her red apple cheeks for breakfast if she lets him, stinky jimin cause he pirate, loyal sailors tae and hobi, taehyung is a manhoe at start but he’s our manhoe so its okay, he also loves slurping y/n’s lobsters, hobi is a huge shipper of his captain and reader, yoongi is the god of mischief, jin raised reader to be his best friend, baby txt on their way to wreck your life.

-> In: Narrative POV, Third person POV 

Check out my Masterlist

Wattpad Account: Here

The wind stays hitched between her air pipe, her lungs already giving up in an attempt to release a large breath as she held it like a prisoner in it's cage.

The organ placed down at the pit of her stomach turns at the scene before her.

Blood sprinkled everywhere like sparks of fireworks, instead this specific liquid was not even close enough to be mentioned next to the latter.

She stood stiff inside the darkness of the closet meant for placing formal wear and peeked out from the gap provided in between the two closed portals.

Memories hit her like a downer at the moment.

She had been here before.

She had seen the same sailors attacking. She had seen the same crimson blood coming from the individual’s bodies.

The only difference this time was that it wasn't her parents who were being brutally murdered nor was she still too small and naive to not know what was actually happening before her.

The sailors and guards of the former King of The Seven Seas, Pirateer Kang have once again decided to attack the developed village born in between the seas of Amnok and Tuman in Joseon Korea.

And yet again they have decided to barge into the large residence of the murdered King Yoon of Joseon to steal and kill whatever or whoever they wanted.

'Not again..'

The murder of her parents taking place right before her eyes has left a dark stain on her once innocent mind and it has led her here, alone and angered.

The anger she felt inside her has turned into a pure form of hatred and it has been mocking her for revenge.

The only source of hope that has kept her inside the boarders of  sanity was the group of fired and wasted sailors she had met a few years ago.

They had promised to help her. They would help her get her revenge from the ones who were involved in the murder of her parents.

"Ahoy! Come out come out where ever you are!"

She placed a hand over her mouth and backed away from the door when a hoarse voice hit her eardrums.

They are here to get her. She knows it.

She forced herself not to wince as two figures walked past the closet with heavy steps.

'Where are they?' She wonders on the late presence of her own seamen.

She let out a shaking sigh and leaned in to check if the sailors were gone. She blinked when she no longer felt their presence in the room.

'Are they gone?'

Silence decided to step in and wrench the walls of the chamber with an echoing mock.

Just as she thought that she was finally left alone, the portal of the closet harshly jerks open.

She let out a squeal and immediately backed away.

She looked up at the two figures now standing before her with wide eyes and her heart skips a beat in fear.

One of the sailor smirks, his teeth that were attacked with the lash of fungi scaring her to the tips of her toes.

"Found ya!" With that, both of the males jump at her.

She immediately crouched down and let her body slide out from the gap in between their bodies.

With quick moments, she turned around and placed both her palms on their backs and pushed both of their bodies inside the closet with all her might.

The males, caught off guard let out “oofs” of surprise and she hurriedly closed the portal of the closet behind them.

Not surprised, Pirateer Kang's sailors were always the slower, low witted ones.

She picks up the lower part of her large white night dress and makes a run towards the portal of her chamber.

She turned left the moment she got out and started to sprint towards the grand entrance downstairs.

And that was when she realized how the residence of her murdered father, King Yoon was a chaotic mess.

Maids running around trying to save themselves while the sailors took anything they could with them.

She immediately ducked down when a white, clay vase came flying towards her.

The vase hit one of the sailors behind her and disappointment hit her when she noticed the pieces falling to the ground.

The flower vase was gifted to her by her father.

"Y/n!" Her ears perks up at the familiar voice and she turns her head around once she hears it.

"Jin!" A sigh leaves her lips and she hurriedly walks up to a rather calm looking approaching male.

He takes a hold of her hand the moment they reach each other and starts to direct her upstairs. "You alright?"

"I am. Who are these men?" Y/n questions, a delicate hand holding her dress up as to prevent herself from stumbling and falling.

"They are here for you. Kang is close to the boarders." Jin informs, leading her up the stairs.

"Shouldn't we go outside? This may be our chance to make a move." Y/n inquires, not understanding his motives yet still following him.

She didn't have any chances.

Jin shakes his head. "No princess. You have to stay low right now. Use your father's secret passageway to skip out of the residence. We have to leave! Now!"

Y/n stared at him for a second with furrowed brows and dropped her shoulders as the male nodded at her.

"Make sure to take your father's secret way to go outside. We will meet at the back. I will go get the others." Jin says, before turning around and sprinting off downstairs.

Y/n released her gown and walked inside the working chamber that belonged to her father and locked the door behind her.

She sighs, letting her eyes trail over every part of the work place.

She remembered how she used to play around in here, not letting her father work for even a little bit.

She was going to be leaving soon, does that mean she will loose this place? Will she loose the place she was raised in?

"You have to continue to remain strong. We have to take revenge."

She lets Jin's words, one of her sailor friends, pass through her brain causing her to sigh.

She walks up to the gigantic book rack of her deceased father's library and pulls out a specific book.

The ground vibrates beneath her and she watched as one of the columns of the rack starts to move inside the wall, slowly revealing a passageway.

She puts the book back in its place and enters the cave like darkness.

Y/n grabs a hold of her necklace that dangles from around her neck and closes the rack behind her.

Something was telling her to not go further inside.

But she trust Jin. He won't betray her.

He had promised her that he would help her get revenge.

She walked further into the cave, the torches attached to the walls allowing her to see.

She tightened her hold around the necklace and took a turn to the left.

Her body suddenly froze when her eyes landed upon the scene in front of her.

Her heart skips a beat and she backs away in shock.

"Welcome, princess!"

King Kang stood before her, chin held high as he stare at her in amusement, a smirk holding his features.

He finally got her.

Y/n stirs, her mind drowsy and heavy from sleep and she slowly stretches out.

A groan leaves past her lips when her body resisted the urge, feeling as if it was bonded to this place by a force.

She slightly opens her eyes, hearing voices and shouts from everywhere around her.

She sat there for a minute, adjusting her eyes and focusing her mind back to reality.

"Yo Ho Ho! Captain Kang, the girl is back from her dreamland." A loud clear voice booms up from somewhere to the mentioned being.

Her eyes snap open at that and she immediately sits up and looks around at the environment and happenings around her.

Males, sailors and workers surrounded her, each one of them tended to their own work of pulling ropes, climbing the shrouds and balancing the wheel of the ship and much more.

'Ship!'

Her eyes widens and she sits up further from her leaning place to look around the hull of the ship.

She was in a ship, and let alone the former, she was in King Kang's ship.

'No! This can not be.'

She was just in her own residence. How did she get here?

Footsteps came her way and it took her a moment to realize that everyone was now staring at her.

She looked down at her hands, only to find them tied up and she soon realizes there’s a rope that goes around her whole body.

Her eyes shift up slowly when she notices someone’s legs show up before her, or to be more specific, a leg appears before her. And the other one had a wooden peg, looking like it had been carved from the bone of a whale. The peg was stuck into one of his cut out legs.

Her eyes trail further up to the individuals face and she soon lets the horror melt down to her heart.

There, right before her, stood King Kang, the captain of the ship she was currently flowing on.

The face she knew she could never forgot. The person who had killed her parents with his own hands. The one who had ruined her life in the span of a few seconds.

He was standing before her, all mighty and tall, his face has wrinkled from the last time she had seen him and the more she stare at him, the more she felt her hatred bubbling up.

"What do you want from me?" She speaks up, her glare piercing as it dug into him with the force of a bullet.

The captain lets out a chuckle of amusement. "Getting in to the concern straight ahead. Brave girl. If your father was to be present, he would have patted your adorable little head for your bravery."

Y/n’s eyebrow twitched, having no motive but to just jump on him and claw his eye out. Words bitter, she spits out. "He would have if his life wasn’t taken from him by the very person who has some nerve to stand before me."

A slight shock passes through his eyes, then suddenly he begins to laugh humorously, his sailors following after him like they have just heard the joke of the seventh sea.

"Avast ye, my sailors." He calls out to his sailors who already have all their attention on him. "The little girl knows who has murdered her father."

"Yes! I murdered him and your mother. But i was not at fault. The target was someone else. They were the ones who came in between a shot arrow." Captain Kang spoke up, walking towards the chain edge with the help of a wooden stick in his hand.

Y/n furrowed her brows. “Another target?"

The male look out at the deep sea and smirks. "You!" He then turns around and grins almost evily. "You were the reason they died."

The woman's eyes widen and she releases a breath.

No way.

It can not be.

'He's lying.'

"Stop lying." She spits.

The male tilts his head and hums, showing his fake disappointment. "What would i get from lying? What is done is done! Your precious family is gone and your oh so loyal friends have also deceived you."

"They did not." Y/n denies, even though the truth had been lumping in her throat from the moment she saw Captain Kang inside her father's secret passageway.

Jin promised to help her but he betrayed her and now she is aware of that.

"Oh but he did. All of them did. They were not even on your side from the beginn--"

"Stop!" She shouts. "Just stop!" Her hands were shaking, her eyes had welled up with tears, yet she did not let him see her weakness.

She did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her breaking down.

Captain Kang grumbles. "Oh well. You have none to be with. They all are gone now and now....it is your turn."

She snaps her head up at him.

Is he going to kill her?

"What? I am doing you a favour. You will meet your papa up there soon." The Captain grins before turning and ordering out his sailors with a booming voice.

"Take out the plank. Our princess is going to walk to meet her death."

Order was said and every sailor got to their work, yelling out to their fellow sailors as they ready her death.

Y/n just stares at him with shock and horror but at the same time she displays a visage of pure hatred.

Is this the end? Is he going to kill her without telling her the reason?

He had already killed her parents and now, she is going to die without knowing the reason of her death.

But yet in some ways, he was completely right.

She’s alone.

Everyone she knew had left her. Their words and friendship were never genuine not even one bit.

She was a lone woman. How will she even get her revenge if she didn’t manage to get out of here?

Lost deep in thoughts, she did not realize how she ended up standing on the edge of the deck, a small plank now in front of her.

She glanced down at the deep blue sea water, waiting to swallow her whole.

Nothing more had scared her than the sea itself.

She had always run away from the ocean. Who knew she would end up dying inside of it?

She took a step further towards the plank, ignoring the whistles and wolf calls from the sailors behind her.

she breaths out, letting the wind wipe past her hair as she stares at the setting sun that was accompanied with light shades of orange.

She took another shaky step, her hands bound to each other with a rope.

'This is the end.'

Her ears suddenly buzzed, feeling the hot air furiously whipping behind her.

Her whole world shakes. She stumbles on her toes as she hears a sailor scream out behind her.

"Captain!! We've been attacked!"

Everything turns into a sudden chaotic mess, hearing shouts and panic people falling out of the deck to the ocean to save their lives, yet she stays frozen in her place.

"He's here! The king of the Seven Seas is here!"

She slowly turns around at the blabbering words of the sailors and a gasp leaves past her lips.

Right before her, stood a ship so giant that it was combined with almost three of the current ship she was in.

Darkness radiated off of the whole ship, and what scared her more was the black flag that swayed from on top of the mast, carrying a skull that looked too real to be called a drawn one.

She was not the one who has walked to her death now. The death has walked up to her.

She stood there absolutely shocked, her legs carrying all her weight on the plank as she stared up at the ship that was intimidatingly hovering over King Kang's ship.

Sailors and guards were panicking, some deciding to  jump off of the ship to survive, while some decided to not run away from the battlefield by staying inside the ship.

Y/n felt a hand latching onto her wrist before the figure pulled her down from the plank.

Her first instinct was to fight against the hold of the unknown, trying to jerk her body away. "Let me go!"

The male pulled her closer and shushed her. "Stop fighting. I'm trying to save you.”

This was said and the female began to feel a tiny bit calmer as she looked up at the unknown male.

He was broad, giant even. And she couldn’t deny the fact that he was breathtaking either. His fit was as clean as freshly new washed cloths while he sternly stared down at her.

"Come with me." The male mumbled, before pulling her with him.

Y/n stared at his back as she was blankly carried away.

He's one of King Kang's men.

Why is he helping her?

She opened her mouth to question his act of kindness when all of a sudden, a booming voice halts her.

"Captain Kang." It was a mischievous call causing Y/n to turn her head towards the source.

Her steps slowed down slightly when her eyes land upon a man leaning on the shrouds of the other ship.

His clothing was definitely that of a pirate, figure lean and big as he playfully swung the sword around his hand.

"What do you want, Captain Park?" Kang spat out, his shoulders hunched as he glared up at the young looking male.

'Captain Park!!'

Y/n's eyes widens, looking up at the handsome looking male who was smirking.

"No hate. You just have something precious of mine." Captain Park speaks, twirling his body skillfully around the rope of the shroud without fear of falling down into the sea. "And I'm here to get it back."

The unknown male suddenly picks up his pace, dragging Y/n away, pulling her towards somewhere she was not aware of.

"Where are you taking me?" She questioned, her eyes not pulling away from Captain Park.

"You have to leave.” The male states, making her turn to him.

"What?"

He stopped and turned his head to her. "Try to understand, young lady. This place is not safe for you anymore."

"Yeah and when was it ever safe for me in the first place." She sarcastically spoke out.

The male sighs out of irritation. "Look, at least Captain Kang gave you permission to die, Captain Park over there would not even do that."

With that, he started to pull her away again.

Y/n dropped her shoulders and turned around to glance at the newly entered Captain again, but to no avail, she could not see him anymore as she now was too far away.

The male came to a stop in front of a small hanging ship and worked to bring it down to the wooden ground of the deck.

Y/n stared at him, wondering as to why he, a man of King Kang, who was for an unknown reason trying to kill her, was helping her out.

The ship hit the ground with a thud and the male worked to push it out of the deck, so that he could easily pull it down to the sea once she got in.

He then turned towards her and ordered. "Get in."

Y/n blinked at him before speaking up. "Why are you helping me?"

The male stared back at her for a second before turning his head away. "That I can not tell you."

Y/n frowned before taking a step towards him. "What is your name then?"

The male released a breath and approached her. He then grabbed a hold of her waist and without any difficulty, he raised her small figure and put her inside the small ship.

Y/n tried to hide her shock at his sudden act and pulled her legs inside the ship and pursed her lips at his absence of an answer.

"You would be able to successfully escape if you continue South, there is a town on that side. Find a safe shelter there and please stay hidden. Captain Kang would not give up on finding you, especially if Captain Park decides to sink this ship."

Y/n stared at him in disbelief. All she asked was his name and his motive in helping her and he replied with everything except the answer of the question she had asked him.

"You are unbelievable!"

The male, for the first time, chuckled out, the stern crease of his brow turning up in amusement as a dimple introduced itself in one of his cheeks.

"Stay safe." He spoke out, slowly pulling on the rope and Y/n felt herself moving down as the ship drifted out from Captain Kang's ship. "And it's Kim Namjoon."

He finally answered her question and a small smile welcomes Y/n's features.

"Thank you, Kim Namjoon." She beamed before he slowly disappeared from her sight.

She grabbed a hold of the side of the small boat, feeling it slowly hitting the waves of the sea beneath her.

Her heart skipped a beat as the scent of the ocean and freedom filled her senses, the waves drifting her further away from the two large ships.

"Where's the girl?" Her shoulders immediately tense up when she hears the angered voice of Captain Park echoing throughout the sea and she swore she heard the sea beneath her growling too.

As if the sea was also a part of him.

She looked back at the two ships that were facing each other and found them pretty far away from her as her boat hurriedly drifted away from them.

She sighed out and dropped her shoulders in relief as the ocean took her towards the South.

She escaped.

She managed to escape from two of the most well-known pirates without a single wound.

But this meant she now knew that she was no longer safe.

--

The captain of the enormous ship nibbled at the bottle of rum as he stared out at the sea that danced for him in the form of waves.

"I say you do not take much concern, ey captain."

A voice speaks out behind him and the male grunts.

"He took what belongs to me. And he had the nerve to lie." The male spat out before gulping down the rum in his hand.

The sailor let out a sigh behind him. "But captain, even you are aware that captain Kang never lies."

This makes the captain snap his head back at his sailor. "Then why did he abduct her? And where is she now?"

The sailor dropped his shoulders. "We looked through the whole ship. Her presence was not there."

"Then where is she?" The captain mumbles, sounding like all chances are gone.

His sailor bit his lip, concern displayed in his eyes.

The king of seven seas was never hopeless.

He had hope on his side.

He had power in him.

This was the first for him and all of them.

"Captain Park.." The loyal sailor calls slowly and carefully. "I have a feeling that she has escaped to sea. She might still be in the ocean."

Captain Park lets his words go through his mind and a silence clouds upon them.

How was he so late on getting there?

How did she manage to escape and how did he not notice?

All of this was a mystery to him and he could not help but let a lump of anger build into his throat.

"It seems like a storm will form." The sailor behind him mumbled and the captain looked up at “his” ocean.

The waves rolled against each other and the sky was dark, not a single star nor the moon in sight as they were covered with the dominance of dark clouds.

His ocean hair flying back with the wind as he mumbled out.

"I will let you take control then." He calls out to the waves. "Take care of her like you take care of your sunken ships."

--

Y/n coughed, her lungs stretching with the force of her throat inhaling the air that was hesitating to enter her body.

She raised her head slowly, her eyes blurry from all the water and sand that has entered through her eyelids.

A groan leaves past her lips when she feels her head spinning, her body slightly yet painfully numb.

With much difficulty, she sits up and blinks a few times to clear her vision.

The cold wind runs past her figure, goosebumps raising over her skin.

She looks down at her attire and finds it wet with sea water, sand sticking to many parts of her clothes and legs like glue.

She reaches out and dusts off some of the sand, looking up towards the sea that had just oh-so-carefully led her towards the seaside.

She pulled her hair back by brushing a hand through it and tried to remember all that happened last night.

It was something unusual.

She remembered it clearly.

The forming of a big bubble around her body when she was slowly drowning in the vast sea due to the storm.

The fact that she could breathe inside the unusual water bubble.

The fact that it took her safely towards the South after she almost drowned was even more unusual.

She dusted off the sand from her elbow and stood up, all the while feeling the silk of her dress soaked.

She walked up towards the seashore and bent down to wash her legs and hands.

"A survivor, huh."

She flinches and immediately turns her head behind at the playful voice and wanders her eyes to spot the individual.

With no luck, she finds no one behind her.

"And a woman at that." The individual who seems to be a male speaks again and she directs her gaze up at the abandon broken ship that was resting on the right side of the shore, right before an enormous mountain.

Her eyes catch a figure leaning on one of the broken masts of the ship causing her to take a step back.

Her eyes narrow at his carefree figure and he smiles at her. "Huh?"

"You survived the storm last night. Are you not just a lucky woman, ey!" He chuckles, rounding the mast almost resembling what Captain Park did yesterday.

She pursed her lips and stared at his attire. "Some people are really fortunate sometimes."

The male nods and jumps down to the ground from the edge of the hull. "Indeed. The sea took your side."

"Is this the South?" She asks, looking around at the area that seemed to only have a heavy green forest and mountains on it's lands.

The male ambles towards her slowly. "It is."

She nods. "I am lucky enough then."

She then turns to him, all the while keeping her senses high. "Who are you?"

The male tilts his head to the side. "Curious i see."

Y/n resists the urge to roll her eyes and waits for him to answer her properly.

"I'm Kim Taehyung, a mighty sailor." He takes off his hat and bends down to introduce himself.

Y/n nods, keeping her distance.

"And may i have the grace of knowing this beautiful lady’s name?" He questions, putting his hat back on.

The female hesitates before speaking. "It is Y/n."

She does not tell him too much and that seems to satisfy the male enough as he nods.

"Well..my lady, it is lovely to be in your presence. And as you have landed in this area, let a great sailor like me lead you inside this hidden island."

'Hidden?'

Y/n furrowed her brows at his words as she turns towards the deep forest.

A gasp leaves her lips when she no longer finds the greenery born there.

It was replaced with lots of homes and life as many people continued their tasks and conversations with no sign of any threats nearby.

"Welcome to the hidden heart of Korea"

Y/n's eyes widen as she stared at the many males and females wandering around the small town-like civilization, carefree, seeming to be living there life to the fullest.

"Ya like this place, my lady?" Taehyung grins proudly, hands placed over his hips as he stared at the place like it was his creation.

Y/n nods in awe, her mouth parting as she starts to amble towards the town, her curiosity taking over.

The male smirked and followed behind her.

"If you do not mind me questioning, what brought you here?"

Y/n blinked out of her daze, stepping in the town as she peeked around everything. "The waves."

Taehyung sighed, pursing his lips. "Of course, what else!"

Y/n nods, disregarding his sarcastic words as she continues to walk further inside, still in awe.

Who would have known that a whole established town could be found behind an abundant forest.

"This place is huge." She spoke, picking up an almond sample that was displayed outside a street shop and popping it inside her mouth.

Taehyung hums, imitating her actions, however, his sample consisted of a whole fistful of almonds. "It is called the heart of Korea for a reason."

Y/n furrowed her brows and turned to him. "Then why is this place hidden? It should be out there for people to admire."

Taehyung smiles, stepping closer to her. "A heart should always be hidden. If it is attacked, it can stop beating and it will die."

Y/n held her breath, staring at his face that was now closer to hers.

She breathes out when the male smiles and steps away from her.

He starts to walk away and she hurriedly turns to him. "Wait! Then how do you know this place?"

"This island only brings those who it has chosen itself. You and I are one of them." The male explains, walking, all the while sensing the female following after him.

'But someone else lead me here...'

She ran up to him, deciding not to tell him about how exactly she had gotten to this wondrous place .

"How long have you been here?" She questions, her hands fisting up her dress as she tries to pick up his long strides.

"Long enough to know where the treasure is hidden." He mumbles, the smile never leaving his lips.

He stops in his tracks and turns his head around when he feels the female halting her steps.

He raises his brows in amusement when he reads the confusion written all over her face. "Do not worry yourself. It is nothing important."

Y/n dropped her shoulders. "How will I get around here? I am not even familiar with this place."

"Oh ya!" The male speaks out. "Do not be concerned. You have me." He grinned.

The female just stares at him, her gaze not even in the slightest showing any sort of trust in him.

Her expression made him narrow his eyes at her, betrayal plastered all over his face. "I am the first person you’ve met. You have to trust me more than anyone here."

"Look!" She tries to avoid his gaze. "I have not experienced good happenings these past few days. All I need is a safe place to stay." She gave up, feeling even ashamed to be asking for help.

The male pursed his lips, nodding. "You will be safe with me. I have the best place."

-

Y/n grinds her teeth as she glares at Taehyung in annoyance, her figure hidden away in the far corner from everyone's notice.

The male was standing away from her, two skinny females accompanying his sides as they openly flirt with each other.

Drunk people surrounded her, gulping down their rum in big gulps while not even caring about their well-being.

That bastard had brought her to a rum bar that was obviously not legal nor registered.

Taehyung catches her eye and he grins at her, immediately stepping back when he felt the hot, lava-like stare thrown his way.

Y/n watched as he bid both the females goodbye before ambling his way off.

She narrowed her eyes further and crossed her arms over her chest, her foot patting the ground as she waited for him to walk over to her.

"How ya like this place?" He grins and Y/n feels her eye twitch.

"Very much. This place will be a great area to bury your body." She spits and he flinches.

"Why? Are you jealous? Those ravishing women meant nothing to me."

"I am going to kick you between your legs so hard, you will stay childless forever."

The male scrunched his face, his hands cupping his precious between his legs. "Who would have thought that such a fragile woman like you would be this violent."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Please get me out of here. I do not like this even in the slightest bit."

The male straightens his back. "I guess you do not like this place like I thought you would. I have to take you somewhere.." He suddenly steps closer to her. "Magical."

She flinched back, her back hitting the wall and she stares at Taehyung with wide eyes.

"What is with you suddenly stepping in my space?"

Taehyung pulls away slightly and smirks. "What is with you looking so irresistible all the time?"

Y/n scrunches her nose. "I was not joking when I said I will hit you somewhere."

"Okay." The male speaks, stepping away from her for his own good.

Y/n scoffs, pulling her back away from the wall. "Where are you taking me?"

"Like i said." The male turns around and looks over his shoulder. "Somewhere magical."

He starts to walk away and the female hurriedly picks up her pace behind him.

"It better be safe."

The male smirks. "Oh it is."

'Especially for you.' 

---

The male jerked open the wooden portal and pushed the non-living object aside to enter the residence.

He kicks away the small log in front of the entrance and turns towards the female standing behind him.

"After you, my lady." He bows down slightly on his side, his hands displayed in front of her in a royal manner.

Y/n looked over the small, hut-like residence before placing a foot over the step, her hand gripping the night dress she had been wearing since the attack closer to her body.

She could no longer feel the wet fabric, but the cold that came after, like an unwelcomed friend was sending chills down her spine.

She hurriedly yet carefully entered the residence and immediately looked around the inside for hidden dangers.

Once finding none in the entrance, she turned and waited for the male to enter the place too.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in amusement and freely ambles his presence next to her and further inside.

The female follows after him, oh-so-thankful for the gown that was draped around her body, on top of her night dress.

She could feel her skin eating up the silk as each second passed by.

Could she ask Taehyung for something to wear?

She knew that was embarrassing and he probably had no female clothes, or if that was just what she thought?

He was, after all, a pervert.

She swallowed her pride, parting her lips for her request. "Do you perhaps--"

Cutting her own sentence short, she whipped her head back towards the way she came in.

She swore she just heard a thud.

Her eyes trailed over to the door and her eyebrows immediately furrowed.

The door....it was closed. She does not remember closing it when she followed after Taehyung.

She stands there for a second, her eyes starting to waver as she looks around everywhere.

"My precious, please come inside. I have something for your grace." Taehyung’s voice came from the open area inside the residence and Y/n was immediately snapped out of her train of thoughts.

She blinks.

'It could be the wind..' She said, convincing herself.

'Or some kid who closed it from outside..' She tried calming herself down.

At this point, she knew she should not trust anyone. Especially not with what just happened to her.

But she could not help but feel a little bit safe with Taehyung.

She didn’t know what that meant. Maybe it was the sweet scent he carried around with him.

She quickly discarded everything in her head and took her steps towards the area where the male was.

She entered the small area and looked around. Three to four logs were placed in the middle of the chamber, resembling a dining table and chairs, a poorly built fireplace was born in the corner where Taehyung was now forming the fire.

Y/n sighed out and entered the chamber fully, her first priority being the fireplace to get some sort of warmth soaking into her skin.

Taehyung chuckles when he spots her and continues to throw in small pieces of wood inside the burning fire.

"You must be cold. I have taken out some clothes for you." The male points towards the attire placed on one of the logs.

Y/n looks at the clothes before walking towards them.

She picked up the white shirt and the baggy pants, she had seen many sailors wear whenever they had come to visit the seaside of her father's kingdom. The attire was also accompanied by long leather boats, a small coat to wear over the white shirt, and a feminine pirate hat.

She raised her brows and turned towards the male who was sitting down on one of his knees, hands and mind busy firing the fireplace.

"No female clothes?" She voices out, grabbing his attention.

The male hums. "I may look like a manwhore.." Saying that, he turns his head to her and continues. "But i am not."

Y/n's eyes brighten with amusement before a giggle leaves past her lips. "Who could have thought."

She locked her gaze with his and her expression turned into a confused one when she found him staring at her with wide eyes.

"Woah!" He awes. "This is the first time I have seen you smile." His eyes were dazed, glazed over even, openly expressing how the smallest act from her has affected him.

He could not help it, she was beautiful.

"Trust me when i tell you, this is the first time I have let out a smile in days." She speaks, her eyes directing downwards towards the shirt in her hand as she recalls the state she was in right now.

From a royal chamber room, she was now in an island she did not know even exited, let alone being taken away by King Kang and going through a dangerous storm.

The amount of days in between all these happenings was less than the days she had to breathe happily with her parents when she was young.

"Really? So am I the cause of those heavenly dimples that have decided to greet me in the prettiest of the way?" Taehyung grins, eyes holding pride.

Y/n looked up. "You are. Thank you, Kim Taehyung." She smiles genuinely at him.

If it wasn’t for him, she would still have been wandering around this confusing island.

If she can not trust him completely, she can at least thank him.

Taehyung nods and turns his head back towards the fireplace, hiding away the pink that was now dusting his cheeks. "There is a chamber upstairs. You can change your attire and take a bath if you want."

Y/n hums and glances at the stairs that led the individuals upstairs.

She hesitates but decides to amble towards them anyways.

"Do not feel like a burden and call me if you need any help." He teases.

"You know how much of a gentleman i am-- Wow wow!! I am sorry. I am sorry." The male squeals, falling on his butt while dodging the frames the female throws his way.

"Good ocean! That is violent, woman."

"Think before you speak then." Y/n grumbles back from the stairs.

"I can not help it." The male mumbles, before grinning. "You are too irresistible."

However, the grin on his face immediately melts away like a fragile chunk of ice when the female is out of sight.

"And I am sorry for what will soon happened..."

-

Y/n buttoned up the black coat and placed the pirate hat over her head.

She looked herself over and sighed out.

At this rate, she looked like one of those female pirates she had always looked up to.

And did she like it?

Oh yes she does.

But does she dislike it too?

Of course.

She was used to wearing dresses, being comfortable in clothing she had never worn is a bit hard.

But at least she is warmer and the clothes are a bit too big on her so it is not too revealing.

She opens the portal of the chamber and skips out of the room.

Walking towards the stairs to go down, her footsteps halt when she hears some mumbling downstairs.

She would have thought that it was Taehyung but there were many of them murmuring together, clearly indicating that there were more individuals here.

Her eyes narrow slightly in confusion and she takes a step back.

No! Taehyung did not look like someone who would betray her.

But then again, so did Jin and she had trusted him.

"Please do not be it.." She silently pleads, backing away.

Her figure did not allow her further access as it was stopped by a firm block.

A breathing block.

Her eyes immediately widen at the warm breath over her neck and before she could pull away, an arm suddenly wraps around her and pulls her in.

"Got ya!"

Y/n's eyes widen in horror and she immediately pushes forward to escape the arm that is keeping her still.

But to no avail, she was soon jerked back into the arms of the male and her shoulders immediately tense up when the unknown male moves his mouth closer to her ear.

"I can not let you run away, not again."

Y/n let out a shaky breath and moved her head to the other side so that he could not force her into something she did not want to do.

She was scared.

She didn’t have a single idea as to who this male was, but the tease and tone in his voice somehow reminded her of a familiar voice she had heard before.

"Let me go." She ordered, yet her voice completely gave away her fear.

The male behind her chuckles, his hot breath brushing against her hair. "If i had the intention of letting you go. I would not have caught you from the beginning."

Y/n starts to wiggle in his arms, doing her best to remove them from around her.

By the much hard work she had put into her escape, the male strangely lets her go.

Y/n does not question her sudden release and runs towards the staircase and towards her freedom.

In just some steps in, her curiosity hits her and she turns around to look at her capturer, only to be left frozen for a few seconds.

Captain Park.

It was him. He was there.

And what makes it much worse is that he had let her escape that easily while watching her with amusement filling his eyes.

That’s because he knew he will always catch her anyways.

The female fastened her pace and hurriedly walked down the remaining steps.

She however, halts her steps when her eyes land on the many figures that are standing around the open area of the chamber where Taehyung very was, or more like the whole place.

They all turn to look at her but her eyes only direct towards Taehyung who’s eyes immediately flash with guilt.

And that is when she gives up.

How would she not?

The sailors were everywhere around the residence and the calmness in the male upstairs showed how easy it was to find her, even if she escaped.

So with much regret, she drops her shoulders and grumply drags her steps towards them.

Walking in between the many sailors who could simply not just stop staring at her like she was a three course meal, she comes to a stop in front of the only male she knew.

The steps run down the stairs of Taehyung's residence and soon enters the one and only, the Captain himself.

His posture was carefree like it was the last time, a smile tugged on his lips like a daily act as he walked in further inside the chamber.

Y/n slowly shrinks back at his presence, the mischievous era she felt around him was the opposite of what he had displayed.

He looked and smelled like a living dark nightmare.

Or it could just be the fact that he was the king of the seven seas.

"My mermaid, i am the king of the seven seas, Park Jimin." The male’s broad shoulders bow down at her with the posture of a prince, his pirate hat held in his hand in respect.

Y/n bites her lips and takes a step back.

It is still not too late right?

She could escape if she wanted.

Scratch what she said earlier. She might still have a chance.

The male straightens his back and smirks at the confusion written all over her pretty features.

"What do you want from me..?" She mumbles, her eyes searching for a route to escape towards the door.

"Oh you will know soon. Taehyung!" Jimin calls and the sailor hums. "Tell the pretty

lady what she is here for."

Taehyung caught her eyes and opens his mouth. "There is an important reason for you to be here, precious."

"Stop." She furrowed her brows and stared at him straight in the eyes. "I do not really want to know."

With that said, she backs away and makes a run towards the door by a small gap between the sailors.

No one runs after her but she still continues to look for the last string of hope.

That, however also breaks the moment she witnesses the many giant sailors that guard the entrance portal.

Y/n comes to a stop and annoyance immediately attacks her nerves.

Well now the giving up statement officially comes to her.

'There is no way out.'

With much more grumpiness, she turns back on her heels and stomps them towards the open area where she just came from again.

Hands crossed over her chest and face scrunched up in an angry pout, she walks back from in between the many sailors and comes to a halt in the same place she was just standing on.

Two of the males smile at her mood and an adoration filled chuckle leaves from one of the cheerful looking sailors that stood right behind Jimin.

She glares at him before turning to Taehyung again. "Shoot!" She angrily orders.

The male nods while taking a step towards Jimin's back to protect himself from the daggers the female was currently throwing at him. "Yeah... Captain is connected to you in a deep relation."

Jimin’s smile widens at the confusion that immediately flashed through her eyes and before he knew it, the anger lingering so adorably in her features is completely replaced with confusion in a short spam of time.

"What do you mean?" She tilts her head to the side in pure curiosity and the king of the seven seas had to stop the sudden urge to just scoop her in his arms.

He just could not stop staring at her.

How long has it been since he had started craving her? He does not remember.

All he knows is that she is here now, right in front of his eyes.

"My precious.... He is your fiancé." Taehyung informs slowly and quietly and the female's eyes widens.

"You are joking, right?" Y/n questions in disbelief and passes a glance at Jimin which clearly displayed horror.

'This can not be. He is lying!'

"He is not." Jimin speaks up, his expressions nowhere near playful now. "Your father has connected us together since young. You belong to me."

The demand and power in his voice shakes her to her pulp and her eyes start to shake in fear.

"What?..." She whispers, feeling like the ground has been jerked away from underneath her feet.

How is it him? Why is it him?

She had heard so much about him. The stories of him mercilessly killing half the legal and illegal pirates without a single breath sent chills down her spine.

They say he never stops. There isn't a single place where he has stayed more than a few hours.

There were even books written about him. The royal guards from all over the seven shores were after him yet no one had even laid a single finger on him.

And now she is stuck with him, over something her father had agreed to when he was still alive.

But it can also not be true. How is she supposed to believe him just like that?

As if reading her mind, Jimin answers. "There is more than given proof."

"Where are the given ones then?" She spits back, gaining some of the confidence but that soon disappears when he steps closer to her.

"That is what we have to find out. Right now, you are coming with me. I can not leave you here for more danger." The male orders and steps closer to her, all the while watching the female back away from him.

The female crouched her shoulders up to her ear and mumbles out. "What if i do not want to."

The male smiles at her small figure. "Then you know what bad girls get. You are going to be a good girl, right.”

Her mouth turns into an offended pout and she directs her eyes down at his shoulder, her body fluttering in embarrassment at his inappropriate words.

Like hell she will let him touch her.

She might be afraid of him but she will not let him do anything to her.

She straightens her back and glanced up at him before looking behind him, Taehyung's eyes linking with hers.

It's all his fault.

She just can not leave without doing something.

She walks past her so called fiancé and steps in front of the sailor and looks up at him.

Taehyung stares back, the mischief and perverted-ness far gone from his figure and that makes the female even more angrier.

Raising her hand in the air, she slaps it right across his cheek.

The male immediately reacts by wincing out. "Auch! Goddamn woman."

"This is what you get for betraying me." Y/n mumbles before turning around and walking off outside the residence.

"Let us go now."

Jimin stares at her in awe as she walks off before throwing his head back in a humorous laughter.

---

Y/n stared at the many sailors who ready the ship for another round around the sea to god knows where.

She was standing on the deck, fear lumping in her throat as she slowly plots out all the scenarios where she might get killed.

She would have never gone with The King of The Sea if she was not to be alone.

But that is exactly what she was at the moment.

She is lonely and she does not have the protection around her nor over her head.

If Taehyung was kind enough to take her to his residence, offer her his attire, then he would not hurt her, right?

Sailors carried their duffles inside the ship, some cleaning the ship by scrubbing holystones in the logs. Some looked after the ropes and the shrouds while some took care of the long masts and sails that are used to change directions of the giant ship.

Everyone was busy, even Captain Park who took part in helping his sailors.

Y/n just watched from afar, no one daring to even pass her a glance after finding out who she actually was, especially to their captain.

"Do you not think you were a little bit too harsh on Taehyung?" The voice of the male brings her back from her chain of thoughts and she immediately turns to look at who it was.

The cheerful looking male who was always stuck to the captain's side grins at her, proudly showing off his gums and the many teeth that have turned black from the lack of care.

Y/n frowns when his words reach her, causing her to look away. "He deserved it."

The male nods, stepping by her side. "He does, but he did help you."

The male points out and the female turns her head to him. "He also helped his captain by informing him my location."

The male stares at her with his usual doe eyes before he directs them over his shoulders to something. "Well...."

Y/n follows the direction of his eyes and her gaze immediately finds the fluffy brown hair of Taehyung.

The male was leaning his back on one of the cannons, figure small and head hung low, his mouth was in a pout like a small sulky child and regret immediately starts to swell her up.

She looks away before the feeling could fully swallow her and she soon looks out at the sailors who were working.

"Taehyung never had the intention of hurting you. Actually, if it weren’t for him, you would not even be breathing right now." The male further breaks the walls around her and succeeds when the guilt she was running away from catches up to her quick, swallowing her into its mud.

She huffs and puffs and crosses her arms over her chest, resisting the urge to just turn around and run away from everything that surrounds her.

The male chuckles at her when he notices the change of her mood. "You are adorable."

She snaps her eyes up and narrows them at him. She fully looks him through before turning around and walking towards the sulking male.

Taehyung rubs his fingers over his cheeks which have just been slapped and he lets out another whine.

He had been slapped thousands of time by all the females he had slept with, but not once has he felt this hurt.

He flinched slightly when y/n’s figure comes to stand next to him and he glances at her from under his overgrown tips of hair.

"I am sorry." He apologizes, voicing a whisper.

"Do not be." She waves her fingers at him. "It was your job, besides, i would not even be here if it was not for you."

Taehyung feels her lean on another cannon next to him and nods slowly. "Indeed. I was lucky enough to find you first. The pirate world is not that safe, you see."

Y/n scoffs. "I know that. But you saved me."

She knew really well how messed up this world was. She had been through so much in just a spam of one day.

Taehyung shakes his head. "I did not. He did." He states, pointing his gaze up at the quarterdeck where the wheel of the ship was.

Y/n follows his direction and her eyes land on the figure of the one and only captain of the ship who was looking through some kind of map.

"We were just on our way to get you from your kingdom." Taehyung starts explaining. "But we turned the ship to the other side the moment we heard about your abduction done by Captain kang."

Y/n tears her eyes away from the captain and questions him. "Why were you coming to get me?"

"Cause it is time for you to be beside the captain. It is time for you both to bond. That is what was decided." Taehyung explains the situation, leaving the female even more confused.

"Why would they even bond us together?" The female takes off the pirate hat she was wearing and rakes a hand through her hair.

"That is something I can not tell you, my precious. Captain Park knows best in that matter." Taehyung watched her from the side, his gaze lingering over her long soft looking brown hair to the distressed look on her face.

"He got so furious." He whispers, the scene fresh to his eyes.

When the female turns to him in question, he can not help but continue. "When captain heard about what Captain Kang had done, he had immediately ordered to get you back. Though it is highly hard to understand how you escaped from there."

Y/n stared at him for a second, the familiar face of the male who had helped her escape popping in her mind instantly  "It was just a coincidence. Luck was on my side."

'Kim Namjoon.'

She recalls in her head. She could never forget him. The generosity he had shown to her even when he looked like an important individual of Captain Kang was even more to take in.

He actually looked kind and gentle in between all the wolves that surrounded him.

Taehyung nods. "However, you will gain answers to all your questions from the captain himself. He will not say everything but enough to erase all your curiosity."

-

"You will stay here." The male shows the female around the chamber.

"Who's cabin is this?" She questions, trailing her eyes everywhere around the wooden walls and the simply decorated chamber as she placed herself on the edge of the mattress.

The male grins from behind her. "It belongs to the captain."

Y/n instantly sprung up from the bed, eyes staring shocked at the male who bursted into a humorous laughter.

Her eyes glares at him. "It is not that funny."

"Oh but it is." The male controls his amusement and placed a hand on his hip in a call for some sanity.

"Where would your captain sleep?...Um" Y/n trails off at the end of the sentence when she could not recall the male's name.

'What was it again?'

"Jung Hoseok. And do not worry. You will soon get to sleep with him." Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows at her and the female's jaw almost drops to the floor.

Pink furiously tints her cheeks and she stutters out a threat. "Say that one more time and you will see what will happen to you."

Hoseok immediately takes a step back and puts his hands in front of him in surrender. "Calm down, little tiger. I am just joking." He puts on a horrified expression but his fake fear was as clear as crystal.

"You better be. Now leave please." She rolls her eyes and turns around to look around the whole room.

"As you say, my lady. You can request the captain's presence if you feel lonely. He will come running right awa---"

Cut off by an object thrown his way, the male immediately closes the door behind him to prevent getting hit by the boot that is violently gifted to him by the female.

--

Y/n sat up from the bed she had been laying on and her eyes trailed over all the objects that accompanied her.

The room looked expensive. Many rolled maps were resting on the big shelf on the right. Small figurines of ships and guards were placed in a small working area in the corner and a treasure box was resting next to it.

The room smelt like the woods and the sea.

She hung her legs from the side of the mattress and carefully got down from the bed which was quite high up.

She walked up to the small work place and looked down at the map that was sprawled next to more small figurines.

Her delicate fingers trail over the small lines on the map and her hand immediately jerks back when the lines and waves drawn in the map start moving.

Her lips part in awe at the scene before her, the waves made it look like she was watching them sway with each other in real life. Another spot, more south on the map was swirling with black, imitating a storm that seemed to be currently going on over the said area.

Another big ship swayed in the middle, looking all familiar, tall and black.

Small writings were written over it in italic, reading Black Pearl.

The ship looked familiar to the one that appeared before Captain Kang's ship the other day. The ship Captain Park was in.

The ship she was now present on.

Her eyes widen.

She was in the well-known Black Pearl.

The ship that speaks. The only ship with black sails.

The one that does not tolerate a single outcomer inside of it. The one which had been there since the beginning.

She was now inside of it and it had not done anything to kick her out.

As much as she had heard, the ship does not like it when someone who is not related to it rides it.

The cursed ship, as many say, will do anything to not let any unknown individual step even a foot on its ground.

And here she is, laying around in its bed.

She backed away from the table and turned towards the portal of Captain Park's chamber.

She creaked open the door and looked around the area.

Only the wind stared back at her alongside the night sky because there were no breathing individuals around.

Seeing that, she took a step outside of the four wood walls and in an instant a soft breath leaves her when the wind encloses her body in a gentle touch.

She really misses being free.

Her eyes trail around to make sure no one is in sight and when it is confirmed that no one is, she lets her tense shoulders drop.

The waves were black due to the dark night and she suddenly had the urge to look out at the deck.

'If you want to know the sea, communicate with it from over the edge.'

Jin's words recall in her mind and she scrunches her nose when his face wipes past her mind.

Moreover, she still listens and turns to the small stairs that will take her to the quarterdeck where the edge of the ship and the wheel stand.

She climbed up the stairs, keeping her steps low and soft to prevent her weight from waking the wood up. Its whining out and its creaking causing someone to hear is the last thing she wanted right now.

She carefully walked up the narrow stairs and halts her steps the moment her eyes look up.

Hair as blue and gray as the sea, the owner of the ship himself sat on the edge with his legs that seemed to be dangling off of the ship.

His back faced her and she instantly took in the relaxation of his shoulders and the silent aura around his giant figure.

She stared at him for a minute as the moon smiled upon him, his hair and attire softly swaying with the wind.

'He is beautiful.'

Her own sudden thought snapped her out of her daze, making her blink many times.

She silently took a step back to walk away, but of course the wood underneath her seemed to be having other thoughts as it finally screamed out a creak at the movement of her boots.

She flinches and Jimin calmly looks over his shoulder.

Her body tenses up and she is soon speechless the moment her eyes links with his.

Everything halts as his amber eyes take in her everything, flickering with what seems to be specks of silver.

"You are finally out, mermaid." He speaks softly and her breath hitched in her throat.

Why did she feel like this?

Why did he still look so intimidating when his aura at the moment was the complete opposite?

Her eyes waver away from him, as she was trying to look everywhere but him. She stutters out. "I-I will leave you alone."

She took another step back but was soon stopped by the captain when he spoke. "Do not go... come here. I will show you something."

She bit her lip and glanced up at him, her heart drumming in her chest at a fast rate as she thought about all the scenarios of her standing next to him.

She does not deny his offer, simply because she did not have a death wish. She slowly walked up to the edge.

In the end, she still wanted to look out at the ocean.

Jimin stood there silent and calm, watching her very hesitant steps as she moved closer to him.

Closer to him.

How long had he wanted just that? How long had he craved to steal just a single glance at her beauty he had heard about all his life?

How much did he feel the need to pull her small figure closer to him? How much did he want so badly to make her his?

He simply didn’t remember nor did he know, all he knows is that all he wants to do is to shout out to the whole world that he had found his treasure. He didn’t need gold or secret gems. He had found his diamond. His mermaid.

He was beyond whipped.

She came to a stop away from him and that made the captain smile.

He shifted his dangling legs inside the deck and jumped down from the edge.

Y/n tensed up even more as he stepped in closer to her.

"You are going to love this." He mumbled and without a single second slipping by, he reached his hands out towards her delicate waist and pulled her figure up from the ground without any difficulty.

A soft yelp left past Y/n's lips as she was manhandled into sitting on the edge in just a spam of a second.

She snaps her eyes up at him in horror and stops the urge to scream when she finds a huge grin brightening his features.

"Oh god.." She mumbles and removes her hands from around his shoulders that fisted his shirt.

Jimin bites his lips to stop himself from grinning too wide as his hands oh so hesitantly moves away from her waist.

Only he knows how much he wanted to just pull her into him right now.

Y/n breaks the eye contact and Jimin helps her turn her body around by grabbing her legs and gently shifting them on the other side.

"What if we fall?" She mumbles in between to herself, settling herself properly in her place.

"I would not let that happened." He replies back in a mumble and she looks up, only for her eyes to instantly turn wide.

A gasp leaves her lips as she now stares at the scenery before her.

The sea was calm, small diamond like pearls were floating in it, shining like little swaying stars. The sky mimics the action in its own, beautiful way. Soon,

creatures had rose from inside the waves, hair pushed back because of the force of the water, containing a body that was familiar to a human as they sung a melody all together.

They were mermaids.

She watched them in awe, observing the beauty of each detail in every creature.

The release of a firework was then heard and she immediately looked up at the straight tail of fire and before she knew it, it bursted, decorating the sky with many beautiful colors.

Jimin then, steps behind her and whispers in her ear. "A new year has begun and I am glad I have you next to me this time."

And then she heard all the sailors and guards scream out a happy new year.

Y/n stared at the scene before her as she continued to feel the breath of the male right behind her.

If she was not in such an awe and daze, she would have shrunk back from his close proximity.

Jimin stared down at her shoulder till the small of her back. The white oversized shirt made her look adorable, the sleeves were long, passing her fingers and going further down.

The feeling would have been a lot better if it was his attire, but there was a bitter lump in his throat because he was well aware that the attire was Taehyung's and knowing that his fiance smelled like another male who was also not him was not a good feeling.

If y/n wanted, he would give her his shirt that shall keep her warm and protected.

But of course he did not want to scare her away.

He was not an over-obsessed man who would end up hurting his loved one just because of his jealousy.

So like always, he let the fact go.

Walking away, he propped himself up on the edge and sat down next to her, making sure to leave a gap between them even if he did not want to.

"Beautiful, isn’t it! New Year is always a time to look forward to." Jimin speaks, his voice low as he did not want to startle her out of her daze.

The female nods, awestruck. "It is. So mermaids do exist."

Jimin glanced at her and smiled. "You have not seen anything. The sea is rich of creatures you have yet to know of."

The female blinked and turned to him. "Really? So the moving map in your room and a bubble suddenly appearing around me the other day should not surprise me."

The now amused male shook his head. "They should not. You are in for a huge surprise if small things like that shock you."

'Small things...'

The female parts her lips and her senses slowly come back to her.

She completely forgot that she was sitting next to The King of the Seven Seas, also the one who owns the biggest ship in the pirate world.

Y/n wonders her eyes away from him and increases the gap between them.

Jimin instantly notices this but keeps his mouth closed. Although he was a tad bit hurt,  he was well-aware of what kind of aura he gave off.

Of course she would keep her distance.

"You can ask me anything. I know you need answers." Jimin states, keeping his eyes ahead.

Y/n stays silent for a second, all the questions that have been bugging her for answers resurfacing in her head.

"I want answered as to what was decided between our fathers about our.. marriage. What relation did they have?" She questions quietly.

Jimin lets her words register in his head before speaking up. "Our fathers were great friends. My father was the sword provider for your father's army. And because of their friendship, they decided to bond their children into a marriage."

Y/n nods and asks another question. "About King Kang, he said my parents died because of me. Do you know what he meant by that?"

Jimin's facial expressions changed for a second when she spoke out his name but he controlled his emotions to calm the storm again.

"Kang likes to interfere in many things from the beginning. It has become his habit. Do not mind him and his ridiculous words."

The female furrowed her brows at his words and mumbled. "He killed my parents and he almost succeeded in killing me."

Jimin tensed up at the words that left her mouth and cleared his throat. "He would not get any closer to you. I can assure you that."

"So you are going to keep me here forever."

Jimin does not waste a second as he shook his head. "I brought you here because I wanted to protect you from all that you have been through. But the doors of my ship are open for you if you want to leave. I do not have any intentions of keeping you caged here. Though I would be hurt if you did leave."

Y/n lets his sentence register in her head, each of his words repeating in her mind many times.

She felt relieved. Why wouldn’t she when he literally laid out the idea that he would let her go if she wants to.

She will be free according to her own wish.

Was this even possible? Why is he suddenly speaking like that? Is he up to something?

But then again, if he wanted to hurt her, he would have done it by now. But he did not and she fully acknowledged that.

"What if i do not want to marry you?" She slowly questions and watched as his face breaks into a smile.

"That is something I would not let you do, my love. My father was a man of his words and I am his son. I have given my word to your father and I will not let you go." His words were firm yet softly spoken, telling her that even if she left, leaving forever was not a choice.

Y/n got quiet after that, thinking through the situation she was now in and how the time was so not fair.

Just a few days ago, she was free to breathe and do whatever she wanted to do. Now here she is inside a ship she never wanted to come across, next to someone she fears the most.

Life was indeed not fair with some people.

"You said there was proof." Y/n looks down at her fingers.

Jimin turns his head towards her and his eyes soften when he sees her small hunched figure. "There are many. We just have to find them."

Y/n directs her eyes to him. "Prove it to me. Find them, cause I currently do not wish to leave."

The editing took me hours but for you guys its worth it. hope you like the first look of the book. there is so much more to come. like, reblog and leave a comment if you guys like it :)))

©Yoonchrisgull do not steal my work 

[catsafarithewriter]

Day 4: Musical

A/N: This is, unusually, a Natori & Cat King ficlet, exploring the chaos of double retirement, inspired (and referencing) the song: “If I Were A Jolly Blacksmith” from the musical TV show: Galavant. (Hence posting it on Musical day) I’ve really enjoyed this, so maybe I’ll write more on the retired concept. Who knows?

Also, a big shout out to @linchxpin for very kindly allowing me to play with their headcanons for Natori’s past! 

x

Natori took to retirement like a landlocked duck took to the sea. That is to say, once he figured he wasn’t in any major danger of drowning, he wondered why he hadn’t retired years ago. 

Of course, the core reason was the cat who had retired alongside him. 

Regardless, the switch from working cat to retiree was aided by two factors. The first was simply that he was tired. If the Cat Kingdom had possessed a functioning economy, the thought: “I don’t get paid enough for this” would have passed through his head multiple times a day. Since it hadn’t, his brain had substituted the thought for a swan-like state - graceful and smooth on the surface, and incoherent confused babbling beneath. 

And the second reason was that not much had fundamentally changed. He still had an irresponsible, power-crazed old cat to kittensit, only now when the irresponsible, power-crazed old cat decreed that Tuesdays would now be known as Second Mondays, Natori could pat the ex-king’s paw and go, “Maybe not, Sire,” instead of having to change all the palace calendars and politely ask the servants to play along for the next month. 

(Early into his tenure as a royal advisor, he had taken to bribing the servants into backing up the ruse. Later in his career, he had realised that the King’s attention span didn’t stretch far enough for him to realise that Tuesdays still existed outside the palace.) 

But while Natori was like a duck in the ocean of retirement, the ex-king was more akin to a stone. 

Natori wasn’t sure what had possessed him to agree to the ex-king crashing in on his retirement plans, except that old habits die hard and he had felt that Lune would benefit from his father being out of meddling range, but agree he had. 

Anyway, Natori had managed for... too many years to count. He could manage a little longer. At least until the ex-king found some direction. 

And so the two palace cats had found themselves in Natori’s kittenhood home, out in the edges of the Cat Kingdom and squarely in the mouse belt. (That stretch of scrub land dominated by villages which had risen out of mouse husbandry, and whose yearly highlight was the annual scarecrow contest.) 

In such a village, there wasn’t much use for an ex-king, not unless he could harvest catnip, or sheer a rabbit, or wrangle a mouse, and the ex-king definitely wasn’t one of such persuasion. 

(He had watched, with some horrified fascination, as a butcher skinned one such mouse in the shop window, and had briefly sworn himself to vegetarianism until Natori had politely reminded him that cats were obligate carnivores, and then repeated the explanation with smaller words.) 

As such, lately the ex-king had turned to contemplation - a markedly foreign concept to the cat for whom “reconsideration” was a survey of side courses. Natori had even found him once in the library. A scary enough situation even before one considered that the ex-king hadn’t known where the palace library was located in all his years living there. 

He had asked Natori’s advice on words such as “self actualisation” and “inner peace,” at which point Natori had confiscated the book and distracted him with the golf club their neighbour had made for him. 

It wasn’t that Natori was against cats reaching self actualisation or inner peace. In theory, it sounded all very nice and relaxing. But after a lifetime trying to gently steer his monarch away from stupid ideas and sometimes even succeeding, Natori had learnt to trust his gut. And he knew that the ex-king would take such ideas and run completely in the wrong direction with them and probably start a few fires in the process - not all figurative ones, either.  

And the point of all this was that when “Young Gizmo Junior” came running over bellowing “Mr Natori! Mr Natori!” Natori knew exactly who was at the centre of whatever chaos he was about to be dragged into. 

Young Gizmo Junior, a runt of a tabby who had yet to grow into his paws, fumbled up to the cottage’s porch with the kind of frenzied energy that comes from being torn away from interesting happenings. “Come quick, Mr Natori,” the kitten gasped. “It’s your friend!”

Natori lowered the cross-stitch he had finally been making progress on, and felt his heart dip along with it. “Oh no. What has he done now? Is it the mice? The rabbits? Please tell me he hasn’t fallen into the salmon river again--”

“No, Mr Natori, it’s worse. He’s singing!” 

Natori blinked. "But he doesn’t sing,” Natori said. “At least,” he amended, “not while sober.” 

‘Please don’t let it be catnip wine again, please don’t let it be catnip wine again, please don’t let it be catnip wine again,’ his mind chanted, ever hopeful that he had developed magic wishing powers since the last time he had fervently wished for a saner life. (Last Second Monday.) 

x

It was not catnip wine. 

It was somehow worse. 

Natori slowly leaned over to Young Gizmo Junior and whispered, “And how long has he been at this?”

“He was on the...” Young Gizmo Junior counted on his claws and scrunched up his face when he surpassed his last easily countable claw, “eleventeenth verse when Grandpa told me to fetch you.” 

Natori raised both eyebrows and nearly unsettled his spectacles in the process. “This is bad.”

“What’s he doing?” Young Gizmo Junior asked. 

“I’ve heard of this before. He’s on the third stage of Searching For Himself.” 

“Why does he need to search for himself? He’s right there.”

“You know that and I know that,” Natori said, “but cats who go searching for themselves don’t. The first stage is talking to oneself, the second is staring into the nearest water source--” 

“Grandpa said he was staring at the well funny--”

“--and the third is bursting into song,” Natori continued. He couldn’t remember the next step, but that was mostly because the ex-king had begun another verse, and Natori’s mind had tapped out. 

“If I were a jolly blacksmith,

What a happy cat I’d be,” the ex-king crooned, rounding towards Old McGregor’s workshop.

“I would do all kinds of blacksmith stuff in my blacksmithery...

“I’d hit the thing... with the other thing. 

“Till I made a different thing!

“If I were a jolly blacksmith...” 

The ex-king trailed off, and if Natori hadn’t been assured that this was the eleventeenth verse, he might well have believed that that would be the end of it. But the ex-king didn’t know the meaning of defeat - mostly because the Cat Kingdom didn’t have dictionaries - and so, after a little bit of muttering (that Natori caught the tail end of “No, I’m not feeling it. Besides, I’d get filthy. There must be something better”) he perked up and made a beeline for Maggie’s meat pie stand. 

“If I were a friendly farmer, 

“Wouldn’t that be oh so sweet? 

“I’d be planting greens and lots of beans,

“And other things to eat.

“Then I’d plant some eggs, and a couple mice,

“Then a yummy salmon cake!” 

The ex-king paused, vaguely aware somewhere in the recesses of his kittenhood education that it didn’t quite work that way. 

(”No,” he muttered, “that’s not right,” and Natori briefly thought there was hope yet. Then the ex-king continued with, “Any moron can plant a cake,” and the farmer upbringing in Natori cringed.)

Natori leaned over to Young Gizmo Junior. “Why can I hear a pipe playing?”

“That’s Uncle Saburo,” the kitten replied cheerfully. “He’s really good!”

“He’s also encouraging someone who needs no encouragement. Trust me.”

“I want to be special,” the ex-king continued, undeterred from the whispered conversations. “Needed. Liked. I’ve got it!” he cried, and made a dash for Rosie’s valerian wine shop front. 

(Part of Natori knew he should stop this. The other part really wanted to see how this worked out. Historically, the latter was a bad idea, but Natori put it down to shock.)

“If I were a merry brewer,

“That would be a grand career,

“I would pick the grapes and peel the grapes

“And stomp them into catnip beer-- dammit!”

The ex-king slumped down onto a convenient crate, which Rosie suddenly decided she didn’t need right now. “I don’t know how to do anything but be a king,” he lamented. “And no one wants me to be a king.” 

“Mr Natori,” Young Gizmo Junior piped up, “shouldn’t you go help your friend?”

“Not yet,” Natori said. “Let him finish first.”

“Why?”

“Because one does not interrupt a cat when he’s singing an existential crisis song,” Natori replied firmly. 

“If I’m just a jolly... nothing,

“What am I supposed to do?

“I don’t have a skill, no niche to fill,

“No one to come home to.”

Natori had a sink full of dirty dishes that argued otherwise.

“Don’t know where to go,

“Don’t know how to fit,

“Don’t know who to even be.

“If I were a jolly tailor... juggler... barber... wet nurse... cesspool worker...”

The ex-king sighed and shook his head. “What difference does it make? I would still be me...”

Natori waited a moment longer. When the last echoes of Uncle Saburo’s pipe playing had died away, he sighed and approached the aged cat. “Sire?”

“Go away Natori,” the ex-king grumbled. “I’m brooding.”

Natori didn’t go away. He waited a moment longer, just until the other cat’s ears began to twitch. He could read his old monarch’s tempers better than he could read his father’s book on Mouse Husbandry. 

“Brooding’s rather boring, isn’t it, sire?”

The ex-king scowled. “Yeah.”

“Do you want go down to the Mouse’s Tale pub and see if we can convince Chaucer to let you try darts again? Maybe you’ll even hit the wall this time.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” 

Stage four of Searching For Yourself, Natori decided, was getting yourself uproariously drunk. 

If the rest of the evening was anything to go by, the ex-king agreed. 

[kunrendeotaku]

Chapter 12

I’m not sure how much longer Star drags me along before I finally look up, thinking that surely we should surely be home by now. To my surprise, I can’t immediately place where we are, but I think I see the mall fairly close by? That’s halfway across town! How far has Star dragged me? Ugh. I guess I have to put my own personal pity party on hold to ensure I can end up in my own bed tonight. The sheer amount of despair that thought provokes nearly makes me give up and lay back down, but I guess I’ve become more tired of sitting in this wagon than I thought, because the shaking now feels unbearable.

I roll out of the wagon and land on the concrete, but Star continues determinedly pulling her load along. I pick myself up, brush myself off, and rush to catch up with her. It causes a litany of aches and pains to run over my body, unfortunately, but I guess that's what you get for fighting above your weight class twice in the span of two days. Professional fighters usually spend months between fights, but I sure ain’t a professional. Still… they remind me of what I’ve been up to since I met Star. I fought monsters, I just finished fighting a fuckin demon! And I literally haven’t been bored even a single moment, the whole time. In spite of my grief for Rodrigo and his many brothers, I find a smile on my face.

“I see you finally decided to get up.” Star sounds completely miffed, perhaps understandably so. She must have been dragging me for miles. A twinge of guilt runs through me, she protects me (Mostly?) from Janna while I’m unconscious, then carries me away from the queen of creepiness herself? And I respond by making her drag me miles in a little metal wagon. I chuckle a bit nervously, scratching the back of my head. “Yeah, well, sorry about that. Janna… really gets to me. Where are we going anyway?”

Star glances over towards me with her lips pursed, but after only a few moments her gaze softens. In addition, that flush crops back over her cheeks and she looks away. Suspicious. I might have to find out if Star has anything to be guilty over herself. “Uh, yeah. We can call it even I guess. We’re heading to the school! We came out for your bike, we’re gonna get it.” Star declares, before pumping her free fist vigorously to punctuate her statement.

“Star…” I look at her in pity. “Did you take directions from Janna?” She blinks, tilting her head. “Yeah, why?” I grimace and rub the bridge of my nose. Stress levels rising. “Janna will literally never give you correct directions. Something about a middle school dare. We’ve been heading in the wrong direction for like, two hours.” I’m treated to my second view of Star’s cheek marks shattering in the same day, though unfortunately far less enjoyable this time. She groans, tossing herself back into the wagon to take my place. Her gigantic mass of blonde hair cushions her fall and honestly makes the thing look much more comfortable.

“C’mon. We’re pretty close to McDonalds, let's just grab some lunch.” Only unintelligible muttering comes from the bed of the wagon, and so I decide it's my turn to drag her around. I grab the handle and begin wheeling her along the sidewalk, wondering how in the world she’d managed to pull me for so long. A person is crazy heavy! Stupid warrior princess muscles. Probably the very same things making it so heavy for me. Luckily I don’t have to drag her nearly as far, but it's still going to be a grueling ten minutes of exertion all the way to our McDonald’s parking lot. “Listen, Marco, about earlier. You’re my guide to all Earth stuff, right?”

“Urgh. Yeah, that's right.” I answer, grunts of effort sometimes leaking out. Are these wheels even turning? “Well, you’re really smart about Earth stuff, but like… crazy dumb about magic. In the future, I’m gonna need you to follow my lead on that stuff. I’ll be your guide to the weird and wonderful magic of the multiverse!” Talkative when she’s not the one pulling, huh. I take my time to think that over, pondering what that would mean. On the one hand, that means I’m putting my safety and sanity in the hands of someone I’m pretty sure would classify as crazy. On the other hand, I really do have no clue what I’m doing when it comes to magic. That demon could have killed us, and it was all my fault. If we’re gonna keep seeing things like that…

“Alright, alright. That makes sense. We’ll just have to *gasp* teach each other.” Star bounces up onto her knees with a manic grin, shaking the whole wagon. “Great! First rule from your magic teacher: Unless I say otherwise, everyone who claims to be an Earth magician is doing real magic.” I slap my free hand into a vigorous facepalm, already feeling that that particular misunderstanding is definitely going to come back to bite me. “God-fine, sure Star. Every wacko who claims a mastery of voodoo or card tricks is a real wizard.” I hope my heavily slathered sarcasm makes it through that glitter filled skull of hers, but if so, she doesn’t react to it.

“Great! Also, I think we’re here.” Star jumps out of the wagon and points up at the building in front of us, done in beige and yellow. McDonalds written out in nice big letters, guess she’s right. I wonder if her dimension uses English in their writing as well, or if she learned before coming here? She does have a weird accent, now that I think of it. Something distinctly European, almost like a British accent's weird hyperactive cousin? About the best way to explain it. I of course park our wagon perfectly in the center of a parking space, finding myself compelled to click an imaginary electronic key. “Beep beep.”

I feel a hand snag my hoodie and drag me violently towards the door. “Hurry up, Marco! I smell food!” We blast into the door, which is thankfully push, rather than pull. I honestly think we might have busted the glass the other way around. Star thankfully releases me after I give her an affronted glare. The nerve, going after my hoodie. It could have stretched! She herself is bouncing up and down giddily, eyes swerving from place to place at lightning speed. I can tell the only reason she hasn’t gone any further into the room is that she simply can’t decide which to explore first.

“Earth Guide, rule one. When you find yourself in a place you don’t understand, do exactly as I do-or what the majority of others seem to be doing.” I gesture to the line of people getting ready to order, and step into line myself. “Oh, oh yeah. I can do that. No problem.” Star slides into place beside me, rather than behind me. Close enough, I guess… I’ll be paying for her food anyhow. “See that sign above the counter? Some of the items have pictures, some don’t, but that's the menu. Pick out one item from there, and a drink size.”

Star responds only with a few rapidfire nods, eyes already locked onto the menu. I wonder how she’ll do at her first time ordering a meal in an Earth restaurant? Unfortunately she’s not the most observant. I doubt she even hears how everyone else makes their orders, focused as she is on picking out her items. Eventually it comes time for us to make our orders, and she glances at me first. Good girl! She can learn! I step up and make my order quickly. “I’ll take a number three with a large fry and a large drink.” She asks if I’d like to make it a combo, which, obviously. I nod, then glance over at my new friend to see if she can follow along.

Star takes a deep breath, then holds up her wand and points it at the employee taking her order. It begins glowing with a menacing pink light. This isn’t exactly a promising start. “I don’t know what any of these are! I’ll just take the corn nuggets with the largest drink you have!” I quickly elbow her and shake my head, the poor confused lady just staring at us. “Star, there aren’t any corn nuggets on the menu!” She blinks, suddenly seeming just as befuddled as the rest of us. “What kind of food place doesn’t have corn nuggets?! I didn’t even bother looking for them, since I figured they weren’t one of the items with pictures!”

I sigh. Of course she only looked at the pictures. I slowly move Star’s wand arm down towards the floor so she can stop threatening the nice lady taking our orders, and thankfully she lets it stop glowing shortly after. “Look, she’ll take the 8 piece nuggets, large fry, and a large drink. Yes, Combo, whatever. Listen-thrown in a kids meal toy and she’s less likely to cause another scene.” The look of sheer exhaustion on my face must have clued the employee into something, as she suddenly gives me a look of sympathy and nods. I snag our two cups and lead Star over to the drink machine, a confused look on her face.

“Star. Can you tell me what you did wrong there?” She blinks, then frowns, thinking back over her actions. “Well, I greeted the lady, asked her for the food, and told her my drink size. Honestly, I think I did great. Pretty much the only one in the wrong is this place for not having corn nuggets.” Star scoffs, clearly unrepentant. We have a lot of work to do here. “No, Star. You threatened an innocent woman, demanded food instead of asking, and didn’t read the menu. At all. Worse, you didn’t observe anyone else to figure out the right way to do it-even me! You could have literally only repeated what I said and been fine!”

“Ohhhh. I just figured princesses behaved differently, so I never really think about how other people do things.” Star begins holding up fingers in turn as she lists off “Always meet a new person vigorously and with your weapons at the ready, from Dad. Never ask for anything as it makes you look weak, from Mom. Annnd both of them always said it was other people’s responsibility to match my demands. I did it all right! Three boxes checked, woo.” Star pumps her arms, a proud grin on her face.

I simply shake my head, wondering where this spoiled side of Star has popped up from. I mean, when she said she was a princess, it was always kind of hard to see-she treats me like an equal, along with my parents, and even Janna. But I guess service people automatically ping as ‘peasants’ for her royal upbringing? I wonder if it's even possible to overwrite fourteen years of habits built while considering yourself one of the most important people in your country. “Second Earth Guide rule: Marco’s orders supersede princess training. You can’t be a normal Earthling if you follow all the crazy rules of being a princess at the same time-heck, I find it hard to believe you follow them even half the time anyway, so this should be easy!”

[bombshellbois]

Sticking Points

Rating: T

Summary: The summer of 1986 doesn’t look much different to Billy than the summer of 1985 did, when it started. Few more scars, few more burned bridges, but not much else has changed. He’s still working at the pool, and still giving swimming lessons to bratty kids. Today the bratty kid is Holly Wheeler.

It’s funny the things that stick in life. Billy has found himself thinking that a lot lately. His days are eerily similar to last summer, right down to the weight of the lifeguard whistle against his chest. Sure, there was the brush with actual fucking monsters (not really a brush so much as a head-on collision) but… he didn’t have any better ideas once summer came around again, really. It’s been long enough that he can drown out the memory of that voice that screamed inside his head that the sun would kill him. He still needs a job, still misses the beaches of California, and the best Hawkins can offer is this goddamn pool so… 

It’s not like he has any more bad memories of this place than he does of anywhere else. 

Sitting on the corner of the pool beside him, dangling her legs into the shallows, is Holly Wheeler. She’s got goggles on her head that look too big for her, with worn blue rubber around the lenses. The neon fish on her swimsuit with the tail the trails on and on reminds Billy vaguely of album art. He’d compliment her taste if he thought she did it on purpose. 

Talk about things that stick. Billy’s not sure if Karen has regrets one year later, or if she’s still hanging onto some kind of guilt, but she was insistent that Billy had to give Holly swimming lessons. The size of the tip she gave him and the fact that she gave it to him up front suggests guilt. 

“I already know how to swim,” Holly tells him matter-of-factly. She’s staring at him with the same huge dark eyes that her brother and sister both have. She’s blond as fuck, though. Where the hell did that come from? Karen must have used so much peroxide when she was knocked up that it soaked into the womb or something. 

“I know.”

“I was here every day last summer,” Holly persists. “Swimming.”

“I know,” Billy repeats. “I was the lifeguard last summer.”

She squints at him, like she’s trying to remember if that’s true, probably stretching the limits of her 6-year-old memory span. 

“So you already know I’m a good swimmer,” she says. Billy does know. She knows most of what he’s supposed to teach kids her age, but that’s her problem for having a mom who runs too wet for the pretty ones. 

“I’m gonna make you a better swimmer,” he says. “Your form is shit.”

“You can’t say that!” she gasps. “Steve said I’m really good!”

Billy expected her to say he can’t say ‘shit’ because kids believe in rules like that. She doesn’t, probably because she has to hear worse than that from her brother. The Steve thing… Billy isn’t expecting it, but it isn’t a surprise, either. Hawkins’ Golden Boy is gunning for mother of the year. And hey, in this town where his competition is mostly the Karens and the Susans, he just might get it.

“Steve is a nice person.” That’s not Billy’s favorite thing to admit. Makes him feel guilty too easily. “But he’s also a liar.”

And Billy would know. 

***

Steve has been to the hospital room a handful of times. Billy suspects he’s been to the parking lot way more often because Neil and Susan sure as hell aren’t bringing Max by as often as she’s here. He just sits there and makes chit-chat every time. He’s good at that, at talking and saying nothing at all. Billy can’t decide if it’s because that’s what silver spooners learn or if Steve is just actually a dumbass. 

“You know I don’t actually care, right?” Billy finally says, cutting off Steve’s intense re-telling of his debate with Keith about whether or not Teen Wolf belongs in the horror section.

“You could tell me what you do care about and then I can talk about that,” Steve offers, not missing a beat. Billy rolls his eyes and falls back into the silence he’s lived in for most of Steve’s visits. 

Steve groans. 

“Billy. Come on, talk to me. I’m not still mad about last year, you know. We can just… start over.”

There are no free passes in life. Billy knows that for a fact. Which means Steve is just saying the right thing you’re supposed to say when someone is in the hospital. He’s a fucking liar, is what he is.

***

“Steve is not a liar,” Holly huffs. “He was a swimmer. He knows when people are good.”

“Steve’s sport was basketball.” Billy grabs the pink boogie board from the side of the pool and drops it into the water. “He just happens to have a pool in his backyard.” 

“He was a swimmer when he was dating my sister.” Holly wrinkles her nose at the board and kicks it, making it float off further into the pool. “I’ve seen other swimming lessons. You want me to hold onto that and kick, but I already know how to kick.”

Billy… sort of believes that because Steve was never all that great at basketball, but he did have a jock reputation before Billy came to town. And he’s already kind of wondered sometimes why the guy always brings his pack of kids to the public pool instead of just using his back yard. But then Holly decides to be a massive pain in the ass and he decides he still doesn’t care about any mystery involving Steve Harrington. 

He has to handle the Wheeler brat instead.

“Look.” Billy drops his elbow to his knee so his hunched posture puts him on eye-level with Holly. “I know you know how to kick. But we have to go through the lessons, got it?” She’s pursing her lips like she’s about to start bitching again, so Billy just brings out the big guns. “And if I tick off all the little boxes of shit you know how to do, you get a whistle at the end of the week.”

That gets her attention. Bribing always works with kids, but he’s pretty sure Holly knows it’s a bribe. She understands checking off boxes that might be pointless in exchange for a reward. Billy would bet anything her limp-dick dad uses that technique all the time. 

“I want the whistle,” she says, pulling her goggles down over her eyes. They slide down her nose, the band way too big on her head to form anything closed to a seal. 

“Those are too big for you,” Billy says, holding out his hand. “I’ll hold ‘em. Go get the board.”

Holly pulls them off and hands them to him. “I want them back,” she warns. “Steve gave them to me for my swimming class. He won a trophy once with them and said they’ll bring me good luck.”

Billy doesn’t believe in luck, and personally thinks there would have been more use in Steve just getting Holly a pair of goggles that fit right. But people like stories and sentiments like that. And Steve likes giving people shit.

***

There’s  hairspray on the table beside Billy’s bed. Not the right kind, mainly because it’s the expensive shit, where the can is muted chrome, and the logo is in thick, flowy letters. Max sure as hell didn’t buy it. There’s not a long list of people visiting him in the hospital, but there’s only one who would think doing his hair would make him feel better. 

Someone (meaning Max) must have shared with Steve that Billy’s latest ‘milestone’ (because every single fucking thing counts as a milestone if your injuries fuck you up enough) is being allowed to shower on his own. He’s happy about that, don’t get him wrong. The nurses around here are not the stuff of wet dreams, and being sponged by a 60-something who talks about her collapsed uterus was pretty much hell. But seriously, he didn’t need that shared with Harrington. That guy is being weird enough about this already. 

Billy hates that he kind of wants to. Wants to wash his hair, which feels grimy and flat from being slept on so much. Wants to pick it with a comb while it’s damp, give it some lift, rub it dry with a t-shirt so it won’t frizz… and yeah, maybe spray it in place a little. And he really fucking hates that the town pretty boy, with his head of brunette fluff and nothing else, understands that so well. 

He dumps the can in the trash and makes sure Steve can see it in there.

***

Holly retrieves the board and kicks her way back over with it. Billy mentally checks off that box in his head. Yeah, he’ll probably make her do it some more just so she’s quiet for longer. He’s gonna milk the promise of that graduation whistle for as long as he can. But the kid can clearly already kick. 

“Don’t scuff them,” she reminds him when he must run a thumb over the rim of the goggles in the wrong way or something. Billy sighs internally. Clearly Harrington’s next generation of kids are already forming their attachments to him. Which means Billy is going to have to see him shuttling kids to and from the pool well after his current bunch gets their licenses. 

“I’m not scuffing Steve’s shitty goggles, kid,” he snaps.

“They’re my goggles now,” she says, the imperious tone grating in the same way her brother’s does. And her sister’s. Fucking Wheelers, man. “And you should be nicer to Steve.”

“Steve isn’t even here. Why does it matter?” Billy sets the goggles on the side of the pool so the kid can stop glowering at him. 

“Because he said I should be nice to you,” she says,  tossing the boogie board up onto the poolside where it turns the stones darker with a splatter of water. 

God Billy wants a fucking cigarette. “Can’t imagine why he did that. We’re not friends.”

***

“We’re not buddies, Harrington.” There’s venom in Billy’s voice, but Steve just looks tired. And kind of frustrated, like he knows he opened his mouth too wide and can’t take it back now. 

“I didn’t say we were. Or that we were going to be.”

He didn’t. But ‘I can help with your PT if you want’ isn’t exactly something to say to the guy you had a fistfight with a few months ago. It’s a nice offer and it’s coming after too many goddamn nice things, and Billy… Billy is over it. Harrington just keeps showing up and talking and trying to act like he and Billy are just gonna be nice to each other. Like that’s a thing that happens in real life. 

“I don’t want your fucking help.”

“I know.” And Steve sounds like he does know. Maybe he knows exactly how much Billy hates every second he insists on sitting in that plastic chair, hates every chipper word out of his mouth. And still keeps coming like a sadist. Or a masochist. Or both in one fucking punching bag of a package. 

“So fuck off! Stop showing up to visit me, stop leaving shit around my room life a fucking creeper! Get on with your shitty life, maybe go collect some more kids to need you!” Billy is sure some of that wounds. If Steve’s fall from grace in his senior year was a Greek tragedy, his languishing in a humiliating job while everyone else went off to college was some depressing Dickens shit. The kind where everyone knows, and everyone judges and tuts about it. But other than a little tightening in the jaw, Steve doesn’t react. 

Billy’s stomach does. Turns sour and roils and wants to take it all back as badly as Steve wanted to take back his offer to help. But the words are out and it’s full steam ahead, and he’s slapping his palm repeatedly against the button to call the nurse before Steve can do something stupid like apologize, like he’s the one who did something wrong. 

Steve doesn’t visit again. He can’t. Billy tells the nurses he doesn’t want him in there, and never asks if he tries to come back.

***

“You know, if you’re not nice to people, then no one will by nice to you,” Holly tells him, breaking Billy out of his reverie. The wisdom of a 6-year-old. “But if you’re nice, like to Steve, then maybe you can be friends.”

“Wow, is that how friends work?” Billy rolls his eyes, but it’s probably lost on Holly since he has sunglasses on. “Consider me fuckin’ schooled.”

Holly grasps at the lip of the pool a few times , trying to pull herself out. It doesn’t work, so she just waves a hand at Billy’s arm until he obliges and holds it out to her. She grabs it and pull herself out of the water, planting her butt back on the corner of the pool.

“Thank you,” she says. “Now you say ‘you’re welcome’ to me.”

“Trying to improve my manners, kid?”

“Yes. Good manners make it easier to make friends.”

Billy sighs and hands her back her goggles. His brain hurts, and his chest feels a little tight from too much thinking. Too many memories that are still fresh enough to sting. A cursory glance at the row of moms confirms that no, Karen didn’t stick around. Definitely a guilt thing.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we skip the rest of the baby lessons today and I buy your silence with a popsicle from the staff freezer?”

Holly, like all smart kids, knows when she’s got a good offer on the table. She nods immediately, fitting Steve’s goggles back on her head. “Deal.”

Billy stands up and heads for the staff office, with small, wet footsteps slapping the ground behind him. Holly might be okay. She’s a quick kid, and not quite as annoying as her siblings. Yet. She might even be right about a few things too. 

And with any luck, as long as there’s a decent stash of flavors to barter with in the freezer, she might even be useful in figuring out how Steve likes people to be nice to him. 

[mrwinterr]

Follow You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: A song fic inspired by the song “Follow You” - Night Riots

Warnings: Fluff. Stalking? Mentions of sex and maybe masturbation (but only if that’s how you judge the actions in this story, nothing graphic). Reader is also not related to anyone in this story, just in case that question should arise in one’s mind.

A/N: This is a repost as I’m getting settled on this new blog. This was and still stands as of right now, my only Bucky Barnes fanfic. I swear the song isn’t as creepy as it sounds. It’s nonetheless a jam, so if you need music recommendation, check the band out! 

It’s not usual for the common area to be empty, especially in the morning as almost everyone in the building is an early riser. Bucky’s eyes gloss over the span of the room, not seeing any sign of his teammates, until they caught onto an image printed on the front page of today’s newspaper.

He recognizes your face on the print as part of the medical team within the building. He’s seen you a few times in passing or attending to any injuries and the occasional company events, but nothing more. He didn’t even know your name. He studied your features carefully. Your hair was all over the place, you had a small cut on your cheek, and you were clutching your left hand, which was visibly wounded. What kind of tussle did you get yourself into?

The full story revealed you helping fight off an assailant targeting his teammate Sam Wilson, who’s slowly being recognized as the new Captain America. This would explain where everyone might be. Taking place at night, you weren’t too far from the compound with Sam, but the person was clearly on a mission. It was a surprise attack. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The appeal of the story was how a civilian was able to hold her weight against someone who was trained to and purposely cause harm. Much like the paper, Bucky was enamored by the act of bravery. He read the story over and over, stared at every photo you were in, but he wanted to know so much more. He was captivated.

I saw your face inside the newspaper You saved your brother but your hand got burned

The training room was usually empty when he visited it, except that day he found Sam sparing with you. Unfortunately, your courageous story created unwanted attention. Secret intel revealed there was a threat by the previous attacker’s organization. It changed your life. You were forced to take extra steps in precaution, so he was helping you strengthen your defensive skills. The moment Bucky stepped in and looked at you, his breath got caught in his throat.

You turned your head in his direction as Sam called out his name. Bucky stood there unmoved, eyes only trained on you, and Sam took this as an opportunity to crack a joke. Bucky slightly shook his head and mouthed a quick comeback to which earned him a laugh from you. His body loosened up at the sound of your voice and he managed to give you a small smile. He found that laugh to be one of the sweetest things he’s ever heard, and it led his mind to wonder what else he could do to be able to find out how other noises would sound like coming out of your mouth.

Your hair was wild just like a lion’s fur I wanna laugh with you and make you purr

Your image never left his mind. He finally learned your name and your role on the medical team. He saw firsthand and already had a general sense that you could take care of yourself, but the attacks opened a can of worms. It could only get worse. In fact, within a few months, the next several attempts at your own life and anyone that seemed suspicious, Bucky would be there to divert danger away from you. He took them all out. He discovered you lived alone a couple of miles away from the compound. He felt a need to keep you safe, so using his stealth techniques he commits to your routine and remembering the route to your home. He was following you.

I will follow you home Cause I know where you live You’ll never be alone Cause I know where you live

It becomes more than that for Bucky. He takes a new course in the compound ensuring that he passes by the big glass window that separates him and the medical team just to see if you’ve made it to work alright. Sometimes he lingers a little longer than usual and catches your gaze through and between every staff member walking about doing their respective jobs, each time causing him to almost lose his composure and knocking the wind out of him, like a head-on-collision. He was wrecked.

I drive by your work almost every day That big old window shows me everything I saw you look at me through the glass Your eagle vision almost made me crash

He’s almost sure you don’t notice his close eye. If you did, you don’t act any different from the first encounter with him. For all you knew, no one was threatening your life anymore and they’d forgotten all about your story. He finds you just as friendly and caring, and it all just digs deeper into him. He had progressively initiated conversation with you given the opportunity. You’ve taken on to attending any discomfort Bucky has brought by missions or his arm and in return he helps you train when you have the time or keep you company during breaks. You were perfect to him. Everything you said or did, never elicited a painful memory caused by his past.

By now he’s discovered the perfect spot across your apartment to continue his watch. One night he slipped. You had returned from a night out with friends. He could tell you were slightly intoxicated as you carelessly slipped out of your dress with the curtains still drawn open, a bad habit of yours. Bucky couldn’t bring himself to look away. He knew it was wrong and extremely invasive. His bottom lip trapped itself between his teeth as his eyes scanned your mostly naked body. You casually stretched and he could sense you letting out a sound of pleasurable relief. His gaze never tore from your figure until you finally had the sense to close your curtains. He should’ve felt great shame. He tried to hold back but he was far too gone and could only imagine how you would look and sound like reacting to him worshiping you. He was weak.

No shame, I will follow you home No shame, you’ll never be alone

Things almost fall back into routine for Bucky even with the added task of ensuring your safety. He’s suddenly frantic as you weren’t where he expects you to always be. You’re not standing at your usual post in the medical lab, your curtains don’t open again, and you’re barely seen throughout the compound. He double checks his research and doesn’t see any sign of suspicious activity or you resigning and departing from the city. The attacks have actually lessened since they’ve become futile with him in the way and you never once mentioned leaving. He inquiries about you from your colleagues, who insist they don’t know of your whereabouts. He was scared.

He thought about how he wouldn’t see you flash him that smile, the way one side of your lips slanted upwards and eyes shined, just for him. He thought about the sound of your voice, especially your laugh. It made him melt. He thought about things he wished he could have made you feel. He thought about how he wouldn’t be able to do any of that if you weren’t around. You really had a huge affect and it dawned on him. He was in love.

No shame, I believe I’m in love with you, I’m in love with you

You weren’t in danger at all. You recently took up following Bucky, observing him as he tried to observe you even in your absence. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t when Sam told you what Bucky had been up to. He noticed his new behavior before anyone else and took it upon himself to figure out what or who changed him. He was actually relieved to find out that he wasn’t doing something self-destructive but instead he was harboring a crush and was protecting you this whole time. Granted what he was doing involved an invasion of privacy, but surprisingly you weren’t angry, and you didn’t understand why you weren’t. Any normal person would feel some sort of animosity, but you didn’t. You liked Bucky and his company. You knew of him before working in the compound but you were enthralled by Bucky since you officially met him in the training room and continued to be the more you interacted. You were hooked.

You felt bad watching Bucky pull at his hair, frustrated as he thought you were in any kind of crisis, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around how he would want to willingly go through all this trouble to keep you safe. What made you special? You were just like every other person in the world that needed to be protected by Earth’s heroes. Yet you were still here, and it was because of him. You had to make sure it wasn’t just a phase. Why did he feel the need to protect you? If he had no one to look after, would he still care? You found out a lot about Bucky by observing him. Bucky’s watch was no joke, that much you learned. It took a real toll on your body and mind. It was harder on your end because you were making sure your absence was solid, full-proof, and at first you thought who were you to believe you could successfully spy on a former assassin? Luckily, Sam aided you on that one for a while. He just didn’t know you were still following Bucky and you didn’t either the longer it played out. You were falling.

Following you home, I’ll follow you home

It was time. You couldn’t stand to watch the look of defeat on Bucky any longer. He continued to stop by your apartment, cameras revealed he was still walking through the medical floor at the compound and asking if you’d return. You knew Bucky’s routine now and when you found the right moment, you set it up. You opened your curtains, left the lights on, and the door open just in time for his next stakeout.

As expected, Bucky walks right into it. He didn’t even think much about it but the last few weeks had him on edge and he almost immediately sprang into action when he saw any sign of life. He entered your apartment and looked around to find it seemingly empty, until you closed the door behind initiating confrontation. He turns around and he looks almost paralyzed. You knew he could tell that this was it. You caught him. You knew and you let him know. You cried because no one’s ever gone through that much for you. You told him you weren’t angry and he didn’t have to worry anymore because you weren’t ever in harm’s way. Not now and not then because of him. Bucky’s not much for words but he knows, unlike any normal person, he felt no shame for what he did. He knows you weren’t ashamed of what you did either. What he was doing couldn’t have gone as long as it had, but he’d try. He did and would do everything to protect you. He knows he’s in love with you and you knew you were in love with him too.

No shame, I believe I’m in love with you, I’m in love with you

A couple of nights after the revelation, the relationship has definitely progressed, he’s no longer watching you from across your apartment building, instead he’s inside watching you. He stands frozen, eyes locked as if he’s hypnotized by you. You’re shedding your clothing one by one and slowly walking up to him, almost with a predatory gaze. Bucky doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath as you lean up and kiss him. The both of you have grown increasingly close and the idea of taking things slow fly right out of the window. Bucky knew that idea was pointless the moment he first laid eyes on you.

I like to sneak around and hold my breath I lie awake just to watch you undress

The contact breaks the hypnotic spell bound on Bucky as he quickly reacts by applying more pressure to the kiss, losing control. He helps you rid of the remainder of your clothes, running his hands up your arms, collarbone and neck until they cup your face, making sure you don’t pull away soon, afraid this will just be all a dream, and you don’t. Not even when your back hits your mattress and more skin is revealed. When his shirt came off, he didn’t feel ashamed of you seeing his scars, he never felt any shame with you.

Your bodies seemingly both on autopilot as you lose yourselves in the throes of passion. You were giving him everything he wanted. He reveled in the sounds he used to imagine would come out of you. He took pride in watching as your body moved against his and your grabby hands because it let him know you wanted him just as much and that he was the one to make you feel that good. You only ever made him feel immense and genuine happiness. He was committed to making you only feel the same and more, a lot more. He wanted to make sure you knew how much he loved you. The emotion that radiated throughout the room was something he knew he wanted to keep with him for the rest of his life. He was devoted to you.

Tip-toe to our bed like an animal You let me kiss you till I lose control

It’s late one night and he’s just outside the compound staring at the open field thinking about you. He’s hesitant at first but he’s starting to feel better about letting you go home alone. The both of you have been taking the relationship at your own pace, learning more about each other and trust. He’s about to get up and head inside when he doesn’t catch an attack on him, but it’s soon thwarted off when he notices a second movement from a few feet away. It’s you. You saved him this time. He looked at you mesmerized because at that moment you resembled the same look you wore when he first saw you in the newspaper.

The scene around you both became nothing but background noise as the rest of the team and your other colleagues gathered around. You caught up to Bucky and he welcomed you with sore but open arms. He asks why you’re out this late and you, without any shame, tell him you wanted to make sure he was ok. You followed him here, unannounced and unashamed. If he ever had any doubts to if you really loved him in return, you always reminded him how much you did. You were both prepared to follow each other forever. The look of admiration never fades from his eyes. He was always in love with you.

No shame well I believe I’m in love with you, I’m in love with you

A/N: I kind of cringe at this now, but I still want to share and keep it. Let me know what y’all think! Thank you for reading! 

[theprojectschool]

The Circularity of Time

The Infinitesimal and The Monumental Duration Spin & Weave: An Exploration of the Themes of Nationalism, Social Fabric & the Circularity of Time ‘ 

- interview with architect and interior designer Aarushi Kalra.

AM - Could you give a bit of context about the Gandhi project of using the hand spinning of cotton as an instrument to raise awareness of the independence from England? 

AK ‘ In 1909, in an anti-colonial move towards Indian self- sufficiency, against the British, Gandhi decided to revive a craft many saw as already dead: the hand- spinning of cotton into thread, using the Charkha - the Spinning Wheel of India. He saw spinning as an economic and political activity that could bring together the diverse population of the country and was a defining symbol in the struggle against the British rule. It was a symbolic call towards a self- sufficient India, highlighting the ‘Swadeshi Movement’ - a part of the Indian independence movement that contributed to the development of Indian nationalism. This movement aimed to make Indians rediscover their sovereignty and strengthen their pride in Indian heritage, while also disengaging with the imposed British norms and boycotting all British goods. Gandhi claimed that spinning thread in the traditional manner could create the basis for economic independence and the possibility of survival for India’s impoverished rural multitudes.  His choice to stand in solidarity with the poor of the country, while East India company was systematically exploiting them became a powerful symbol that then became the face of the movement and urged his more privileged followers to copy his example, and discard, or even burn, their European-style clothing, proudly returning to their ancient, precolonial culture. This simple act of spinning pierced through the varied Indian community, uniting all classes, caste, gender and creed into one cause and fabric. However, today it seems to be reduced to a static symbol; as a part of history and as a part of the India national flag. It lost its efficacy once its dynamic performance ceased to anchor a political movement. We retain now only the echo of its circular rhythm. 

AM - How did you come up with this idea of exploring the idea of the spinning wheel as a tool for reflection, almost crafting through time? 

Having grown up in India, Gandhi’s presence is all around us. Not necessarily as the figure we have studied throughout history, but as an integral subconscious symbol in day to day life – on the currency notes, names of the streets, etc. Moving out of India, for the first time, to pursue my post-graduation in London made me acutely aware of of my heritage. Moreover, at the time the news was flooded with updates on Brexit, the election of Donald Trump as the president, the building of the wall between US and Mexico and more news of the same nature from Russia, India etc. When we were presented with the brief that asked us to expose a political space of production that spanned the ‘infinitesimal to the monumental’, the symbol of the spinning wheel almost instantly came to my mind, as it was a simple machine and a simple activity that united the entire nation. I wondered how today the term nationalism has been broken and twisted to divide rather than unite. And as an extension of this thought, can it be argued that the spinning wheel that once spun the fabric of unity now spins the fabric of division? What once symbolized inclusivity now takes pride in furthering exclusivity? And that for me was the starting of “Spin & Weave”- a project that explores the theme of Nationalism, Social Fabric & the Circularity of Time. I was interested in investigating how a symbol, so intrinsically part of my own culture, can be revived to interact with present-day political, global occurrences. How a symbol of unity, can now represent boundaries? Based on my new insight into nationalism, this project was a way to explore whether this symbol out of its original context remains the same static image while showcasing the change of ideologies, or does it take on a new form and new meanings? The end piece was envisioned as a scaled model of an experiential installation which showed the two sides of the wheel. One, where a multitude of threads converge at its centre, representative of the people that would once come together to unite, while the other showed the same threads diverging into multiple directions disrupting the spectator's path and field of vision. To be able to traverse this space you might have to go over the strings or under them, cut them, tie them up, loosen them; but you have to make an effort to navigate this stretch. At the centre of all, is this spinning wheel, entangled in the boundaries it continues to weave. A wheel that cannot spin any longer but continues to monumentalise the act of spinning. 

AM - Did you consider/imagined the meditative properties of spinning when you created your project? 

“Take to spinning. The music of the wheel will be as balm to your soul. I believe that the yarn we spin is capable of mending the broken warp and weft of our life…”   – Mahatma Gandhi 

The process of spinning yarn is inherently meditative. It’s not something I originally considered at the beginning; however, it was hard to ignore it as I sat for days threading yarn, creating scaled models of the final output. There is a rhythmic cadence to it. It is monotonous, repetitive, but just as when you’re meditating it allows you lose yourself into it. It is a wonderful process to instil patience, stability and peace in an individual. Which in my belief had been of utmost importance at a time when the people of India needed to be level headed and find the strength to stand against the colonial rule. One of my biggest takeaways from this project was the lesson of patience and discernment. I learnt the importance of each individual’s effort in fuelling a collective power; which during the colonial time, created this beautiful, peaceful and unified fabric of my country. 

AM - Do you think that there is a connection between crafting/identity and narration? 

AK - In terms of physical and tangible materials, for sure. Every region, city and village boast of its own handmade traditions and skills, the ancestral knowledge embedded deeply in our cultures. The geographical location, environmental factors, and the available local materials initiated certain ancient practices that slowly got imbibed within the fabric of the place, which inherently defines its identity and a specific cultural viewpoint. Local materials are used to tell local stories in a particular cultural context. The way of using them only further adds to that. Anything that becomes tangible has an identity, and everything that has an identity has a narrative. Crafts are a way of giving shape to new forms, building a whole new database of identities and narratives in design. It enables the piece to embody the history, culture, socio economic political expression and the various personal stories and aspirations of the designers/ craftsmen. Art and design by nature are a form of storytelling. In no two cities or zones can the same art or craft be practiced in the same way. It is always adapted, and with this adaptation the story changes immensely across boundaries. This is the beauty of context in art, design and narratives. Any small change brought to any one aspect has a ripple effect on all the others, leading to a completely new personality of the base identity. An example of this is how from Japan's kimonos to Scottish tartan, and from Uzbekistani Suzani to Gandhi's push for Indian khadi, the culture of the world is woven, quite literally, into local fabrics. Though the machinery and techniques have been similar, yet throughout human history one look at a man’s clothing could tell you more than his words: his social standing, wealth, class, military rank and more. Historically cloth was unique to its region and country, sometimes literally tying in elements of the land and the people that live there. Even today in a globalized society where one can swipe through countries in no time, all groups of people have secrets hidden in patterns, dyes and fabrics that are waiting to be explored. - How do you think that we could share ancestral forms of knowledge without commodifying them? This is a very difficult conversation to have in the world today. There is a very fine balance between conserving and commodifying. We have lost so many art-forms simply because we haven’t been comfortable in the idea of commodifying them. There are various ways to share knowledge but as soon as they become quantifiable, it becomes a commodity. It almost seems to me as though we might need to change the way we understand commodities and become more mindful of the exchange of these. As a designer I believe in sharing ideas and culture, and I see no harm in others doing the same even if it comes at a certain cost. One can’t ignore the fact that one needs an income to enable these storytellers to run their own lives while comfortably dedicating their lives to the craft. This constant debate between conserving and commodifying, impacts the simplicity and the purity of exchanging stories and emotions through craft. 

AM - How do you deal with the idea of orality associated with tradition? For instance, in African countries, many times traditions are never recorded, so, we lose them, but on the other hand that is how they evolve naturally... so, if we record them, we somehow kill them in the sense that they no longer transform/evolve... 

AK - India has a very rich oral tradition. Take Indian Classical Music for example, where the original tradition of imparting knowledge over thousands of years was through recital with a minimal use of the written word. Recorded and written material developed, but only as a key to absolute basics. Beyond that, Indian classical music is still almost entirely improvised, improvisations based on these certain written ground rules. The same is true for most of our forms of Art, Dance and Scriptures. The oral tradition is in a sense trapped within the confines of a culture’s collective value system. It is first and foremost a group activity, and reinforces bonds within the culture, but it also depends on that group’s willingness to further keep the art of practicing and sharing alive. Writing, on the other hand, is an individual pursuit. Writing transmits ideas from other cultures that reside outside the local sphere and allows the individuals to interpret those ideas for themselves. Written or documented references not only cater to a wider audience, but also to a more distant generation; enabling them to enjoy, learn and reinterpret past stories, leading to a natural evolution that keeps these traditions relevant. The only drawback being the loss of understanding, guidance and the radicalizing of the written knowledge. I feel, this documentation must allow the artist to freely interpret and improvise this knowledge. The need of the hour today is also to learn the subtle language of symbolism and essence, not only to keep the traditions and rich stories alive as they were, but also to strengthen our understanding of each other’s thought processes and maintain a better harmony. 

AM - Do you think that it would be possible to create a project that would connect young artists with old craft studios to create sustainable projects in India? What is missing in terms of business channels that could render these local projects visible worldwide? 

AK - Every craft form is based on shared information that is continuously evolving. Formulating more and more collaborations where old traditions and skillsets are funnelled into the younger artists, along with a freedom to reinterpret them through their own experience and insight, might help bring these traditions to new light. Take for example how a khadi wheel works - the wheel is a form of analogue technology and weaving is a cultural idea. The practice pushes the technology and cultural idea embedded in it forward. Now, for a ‘young’ artist, some of these technologies or cultural practices may present a space of possibilities that may connect to their own practice; or a possibility where they can combine it in with the latest technologies - retaining its roots but giving the product a more global and widely accepted appeal. This may perhaps be a way to find a common ground and explore further. To a certain extent this has already started to happen. However what concerns me is that in the collaborative effort between the designer and the artisan, the designer gets all the credit and possibly the profit while the artisan has gained nothing more than what they always had. The need of the hour is to evolve the stature of the craft and the craftsman enough to give the artisans an incentive to believe in what they do, and for the younger generation to be willing to learn and continue this process. Now as far as contemporising the traditional crafts go, I believe it requires work in two divergent directions. One is that art forms and crafts become a natural part of life again, as they once were. An extremely simple example is how in parts of the country and world over plastic plates are being replaced by banana leaves. This was a common traditional way of eating in southern parts of India, and now again there are people working on spreading it across the country, not as a tradition or luxury, but as an absolute basic awareness. On the flipside, craft must also be innovated and made a part of high-end design. One that celebrates the craftmanship for its glory, and adds an aspirational ramp value to these ancient crafts. An example of that is furniture designers today are reviving and reinventing the dying craft of making utensils and artefacts by hammering brass—traditionally practised by a community of Assamese artisans, to create high end, contemporary and innovative products that are highly global in their appeal while the manufacturing techniques belong to the Indian handicrafts’ tradition of the country. Government, innovators, investors, crafts organisations and designers need to come together and work closely with the craftspeople; listen to their voices, build on their strengths, think out of the box and possibly create a regulatory body that connects various craftsmen to designers all over the world, almost like an open source. However, it needs to have its own regulations in place to ensure that artisans and craftsmen are not exploited, and can also gain from the exposure and the innovation, giving them a reason to believe in the craft they have spent their lives mastering, again.

AM - Ana Mendes

AK - Aarushi Kalra

Aarushi Kalra is an architect and an interior designer, recently graduated from the MA Interior Design at Royal College of Art. Currently she is in the process of setting up her own design wing based in New Delhi, India, by the name of I'mX - that aims to work fluidly between multiple disciplines. One that challenges and immerses viewers into provocative, layered and experimental environments.