#and if there needs any kiss scenes it had to be accidental or an illusion

[holydrakes]

We know that Ohkubo said he wasn't interested to develop the main chars to be more than platonic (but he clearly still played around with the idea afterwards, by adding more and more subtexts) he never said he was against that idea either, just he had no plans to canonize anyone and hence he left everything ambiguous.

The thing is this, the Ace Attorney anime adaptation seemed to crank up the ship tease between Phoenix and Maya (adding scenes where Maya blushes and stuff) eventhough in-game their relationship is platonic and almost brother and sister-like. There's also a case with the Hyouka anime adaptation making Houtaro and Eru's relationship to be outright canon when their relationship is more normal and ambiguous in the light novels. So given the heavy romantic subtext soma had beginning from the Grigori arc onwards (+knowing the fandom loves this ship to bits it practically carried the fandom for years) I think there's a chance that a reboot might make their relationship even less ambiguous, and my guess as to how they'd do it is by expanding on Maka's sudden weird behavior in Chapter 63 (which will better pave way to her breakdown in the envy and sloth chapter) as for making things less ambiguous on Soul's side, they might expand something with the 'it's not like that with Maka' line or giving more lampshade on why his girl form has a flat chest (possibly also resolving all the times he was being a jerk to Maka about it too in the process)

With just these slight changes, their relationship change from faux-love-interests to downright implied love interests (because we are supposed to imagine them hooking up in the future and not within the story itself)

[demon-country]

One of the saddest parts of the stolitz miscommunication debacle to me is that for all his bluster and all his denial, Blitz never managed to fool anyone into believing that there were no feelings involved and he was doing it solely for the book, including Stolas. That is, until Ozzie's, at which point he finally fooled the one person who he didn't even think he needed to.

For all we talk about how Stolas let his fantasies of romance run wild, which caused him to accidentally run roughshod over Blitz (especially at first), he wasn't exactly wrong, in the end. Blitz did develop feelings for him, and given how excited and enthusiastic he was that last full moon, their nights together were probably the only times he felt safe actually showing that. Because he could always tell himself and everyone else that it was just an act, he was just giving Stolas what he wanted and keeping him satisfied enough that he'd let Blitz keep the book.

Stolas thought, up until Ozzie's, that Blitz enjoyed their deal just as much as he did. Because Blitz did. If Blitz was showing up basically every moon as hyped and ready to go as the time we saw him, it's not really a surprise that Stolas didn't catch on to the times when Blitz was actually unhappy and uncomfortable because he felt objectified. After all, Blitz snaps at and is abrasive to everyone, and any annoyance probably seemed pretty par for the course, especially for someone as oblivious, ignorant, and autistic-coded as Stolas. But Stolas also got special treatment on top of that, and it's easier to focus on the stuff that stands out rather than the stuff that doesn't seem too far off from Blitz's standard behavior. He got times where Blitz was genuinely happy and comfortable and excited to see him, we literally see that in the memory fragments and Blitz's behavior during the last full moon. He got times where Blitz seemed to find him so hot he'd grab him and turn things sexual on a dime (Truth Seekers and The Circus). He also got times where Blitz was caring and attentive, and where Blitz accepted care and gentleness during aftercare (because there's literally no way that didn't happen, not getting aftercare after BDSM scenes can be legitimately traumatizing for both the Dom and sub).

Like, that's not to say that Stolas shouldn't have taken the numerous hints that his condescension and baby talk were highly unappreciated, because yeah that shit was very uncool of him and ignorance doesn't excuse it. But look at how Blitz gently caresses Stolas' cheek in Truth Seekers. Look at how thrilled he was to be with Stolas again in The Full Moon. Look at the photo Stolas has of the pony drawing Blitz seems to have made while at his palace. Look at the memory fragments where Blitz is so fucking into kissing him or gleefully showing off toys or making that big shiny eyed blep I'm dying to know the context of. How else was Stolas supposed to take all that every full moon and however many nights Blitz came over outside of that, and not be convinced that his feelings were returned?

Because they were. Not immediately, of course, but the were. They were on the same page about that. There were plenty of things Blitz didn't like, related to Stolas' unconscious racism/classism. There was plenty of "things for [Blitz] to teach and [Stolas] to learn". There were plenty of things that went unsaid and unheard and misinterpreted on both sides. But the love was there, Stolas didn't make it all up. It wasn't the perfect fantasy he was initially picturing (although I'm pretty sure that illusion didn't actually last very long, not with how dejected he looks in a few of the memory fragments and at the start of Ozzie's), and Blitz had a lot more hidden under the surface than Stolas knew about (although he did know Blitz had walls he hadn't seen through yet), but the love was there. You don't have to know everything about someone to start falling in love with them. Blitz couldn't fool anyone, but he especially couldn't fool Stolas, who he showed his heart to again and again thinking he was safely hidden behind the alibi of the book deal.

Until Ozzie's. Until the disastrous "date", after which Blitz couldn't hide the hurt he felt thinking that all Stolas wanted him for was sex, when Blitz wanted more. Except Blitz didn't say that last part. So all Stolas got was Blitz ignoring him on their date, Blitz rejecting his offer to go inside, and Blitz tearing up while saying in a wounded and borderline angry voice that their deal was strictly about sex, which finally clued Stolas in that his actions hadn't been taken as cute and flirty like he had intended, they had just served to hurt Blitz and convince him that all he wanted was to use Blitz.

Blitz's pain changed everything for Stolas. He stopped flirting, he stopped calling him Blitzy save for one time, he stopped most of his interactions with Blitz, and he started trying to give Blitz outs. He looked at all the times Blitz was annoyed at him, at how umbalanced their deal was, and at how it may have been just as cruel of a chain as the one binding him to Stella, and quite correctly came to the conclusion that the deal needed to end and Blitz needed to have a way to do his job without being dependant on Stolas. But he also looked at all the memories of Blitz being happy with him, and all the times Blitz showed up excited, and came to the incorrect but reasonable conclusion that it was all probably just an act Blitz put on to keep the book. Just like Blitz had been hoping to convince everyone of.

And then Stolas ended the deal, and Blitz couldn't figure out why so he started to panic. The deal was his safety net and his shield; it was the only way he felt he could get something close to the real relationship he wanted, it was what allowed him to be open with his feelings, and what gave him the courage to let some of his walls down. It probably felt like such a betrayal that Stolas would take it away.

Even though he was the one who dodged all of Stolas' offers to talk, out of fear that things would become complicated if they talked about it, out of fear of rejection after Stolas hid during their "date", and later out of guilt and shame for how he failed to save Stolas. Even though he was the one who was hiding behind the excuse that it was all just for the book. Even though he was the only one convinced that Stolas could never care about him for anything other than sex. Even though Stolas flat out told him he cared about him and wanted him to stay, just without the deal in between them. Even with all that, Blitz still couldn't see Stolas ending their deal any way other than Stolas abandoning him and rejecting him and taking away the only way he has ever been able to openly show that side of himself.

It was more than just his self-hatred talking, it was more than just his insecurities getting the better of him. It was a perceived betrayal of trust and an inability to see how much the deal limited their ability to get what they both actually wanted. The reason it hurt him so much was because Stolas hadn't actually been wrong. Blitz did care, Blitz did enjoy their deal, Blitz did want Stolas just as much as Stolas wanted him.

The tragedy of it all was that the love was real, but the only ones who were convinced it wasn't was the two of them. So it's a good thing the story isn't over for them yet, because I couldn't take that ending for them. After all the shit they've been through in their lives, they deserve their happy ending together, they deserve to have their mutually requited love be realized.

[amethysts-tavern]

A Moment of Magic.

Gale’s Weave scene with Tav from his POV, ‘cause why not?

Gender neutral, good-aligned, red-headed bard Tav.

______

You catch a glimpse of Tav from across the campsite. Gods, they’re beautiful. You can’t help but notice how the firelight shines off their auburn locks and gives their cheeks a warm glow. They were smiling at something Karlach had said, playfully swatting at the fiery tiefling.

You had asked Tav to join you tonight after dinner. Maybe it will bring the two of us closer together. But to what end? You had been smitten with Tav from the moment your hands touched while you were on the other side of the malfunctioning portal - the gentle way their fingers grasped yours - then the way they cocked their head and smiled softly as you introduced yourself. As the days progressed, your affections for them only grew when you learned more about their kind nature, their eagerness to help those in need, and their fierce loyalty to their friends.

Maybe this whole idea is silly. It’s not like there can be any real future between us, seeing as I might explode at any moment. And what if they don’t feel the same? Am I prepared to feel that rejection again so soon?

Truthfully, it had been over a year since you and Mystra had called it quits, but sometimes it felt like yesterday. You missed her. Or rather, you missed what she represented to you. Calling up an illusion of her visage, you feel a momentary calm, only to be shaken from your reverie when Tav approaches.

“She’s pretty,” Tav says from somewhere behind you.

“Oh you startled me. I was miles away,” you reply, dismissing the illusion and feeling a bit embarrassed that you were caught looking at images of your ex-lover in front of the one you hoped to someday be a current lover.

You begin to tell Tav what magic means to you. How it’s everything you’ve ever known, ever wanted, and ask if they are interested in experiencing some of it for themself. They agree! You show them an easy spell - dancing lights. Really anyone could perform this spell with the right tutelage, but you’re hoping that Tav doesn’t know that. You watch and laugh inwardly as they over-perform the somatic components. But smile as their lips wrap around the words of the verbal component of the spell, breathing life into the magic. Finally, you ask them to look within themself and picture the concept of harmony (that should be easy for them, seeing as they’re a bard). And their dancing lights begin to take shape - a twinkling glow in the dusk of night. You feel the Weave surrounding you both and you wonder what it feels like for them. For you channeling the Weave was always accompanied with scents of warm spices like cinnamon and cloves with a just hint of citrus and a sense of peaceful serenity unlike anything you’ve ever experienced outside of the Weave. Almost like a homecoming.

Tav steps back from their conjured lights and brushes into your hand with theirs. Accidentally, or on purpose, you’re not sure, but your heartbeat picks up as the Weave connects you. It’s intimate, like you’ve always known it to be. And now you are sharing it with Tav. You can sense their emotions, you can feel their deepest desires. All they have to do is share them.

There are no words needed as Tav shares a thought of tenderly kissing you, which leads to a more passionate kiss. Your eyes grow wide at the idea. Have they seen through my ruse to bring them over here? But what about the orb? But… oh! What a glorious thought this is! Maybe we can find a way to make this work… but don’t get ahead of yourself, Gale. You don’t want to detonate all over them!

“I wasn’t expecting…” you start. “But it is a pleasant image to be sure! Most pleasant. Most welcome,” you say, as your gaze into their eyes intensifies. But just as quickly as it enveloped you, you begin to feel the Weave evaporate around you, wisping off into nothingness. “Oh, there it goes. How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining.”

You wish you could share more with this lovely creature who stands before you. More of the Weave, more of you, more of those intimate thoughts. But you know that you must call it a night and ponder the future. You have to ask yourself if it’s worth telling Tav how desperately you crave the kisses they envisioned. It wouldn’t be fair to them to start a relationship tonight when you could be gone tomorrow. So instead, you step back and bid them a good night. There would be more discussion in the morning… but tonight, you will sleep with your thoughts full of the lovely auburn-haired bard on the other side of the camp.

[karkkidoeswriting]

Friday Monday Kiss Tag

Thank you for tagging me @talesofsorrowandofruin and @starbuds-and-rosedust! It's not exactly Friday but it's fine xD

Rules: post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or as intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign!

Here's the dads from Bear Castle Chronicles kissing for the first time in a party where Julius thought Marcus was scowling at him when he was in fact pining extremely hard. This would be from a prequel, which I have written more scenes for than I care to admit. Also I conveniently have art fitting for this (though they are dressed in this art in casual clothing not evening wear, so not a perfect match).

I'll tag @kainablue @writernopal @oh-no-another-idea @italiangothicwriteblr @captain-kraken! As always, no pressure!

The excerpt (about 800 words) under the cut:

“What is it with you?” Julius was getting annoyed.

“What? Am I not allowed to accidentally look into your general direction now? - Scadi damn it!” He snuffed out the candle he was trying to use to light his pipe. “And what if I looked at you once or twice? Is looking at people not allowed?”

Julius sighed and took the pipe from his hand. He winced as their fingers touched, quickly pulling his hand away.

“No, I’m not saying that. I thought you seemed to be acting different from usual and you getting so defensive about it really only reinforces that feeling.”

Julius steadied the pipe on his lips with his amputated arm and took another candle from the lamp to light it up. Puffing into it for a moment gave it a proper cinder. He offered the pipe back. Marcus hesitated, then took it from him. Julius was suddenly very aware of the small silence between them. Marcus paused, then he very gently kissed the pipe as he took a smoke from it. Smoke poured out of his parted lips.

Julius blinked and turned to look away. His ears were filled with his own heart beat. This is not what he was supposed to think. He was supposed to be getting over Marcus.

“What if I was looking at you? Everyone was looking at you”, Marcus muttered.

His eye was turned downward. What was with his bashful expression? Julius realized they were still standing so very close the smoke poured right into his face. He didn’t mind.

“Everyone? And why would that be?”

“You were radiant.” Marcus’ voice was low. If Julius had stood any less close, he wouldn’t have heard him properly. “Your smile was so bright it was blinding.”

If it was everyone, why was he saying it like that? Like a confession. Julius felt the danger growing. Danger of hope. He tried to damp it down.

“Sounds like you’ve drunk a little too much”, he said, trying to sound light, as if he was joking.

“No. Well, maybe, but I’m telling the truth. If you don’t want people to stare, maybe don’t look like that.”

Julius laughed nervously. “Like what?”

“Like the most beautiful thing in the world.”

He was about to laugh again, but then Marcus raised his eye at him. That look filled him with the cool summer night, till he couldn’t breath.

Marcus turned away and closed his eye. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I have no right.”

Maybe Julius had drunk one too many classes of wine or maybe he just lost his reason, but he nevertheless bent down, took Marcus’ face into his hand and kissed him. Reason caught up with him quickly enough and he pulled away.

“I’m sorry.”

What had he done?

“You have already made clear how you feel, and yet I –” He wiped his face. All the feelings he had tried to convince himself he didn’t have anymore, crushed over him in a wave. “I’m really sorry. I can’t – I need to clear my head.”

He turned to leave, but Marcus’ hand grabbed his wrist. Marcus looked down. His lips were still parted, like they had been, when Julius leaned for the kiss.

“Do it again.”

Slowly Julius turned back, afraid to break the illusion. He leaned down, tenderly touching Marcus’ cheek. Marcus’ eye was lowered into his lips and fingers brushed against his jaw. His lips parted again. Julius kissed him, this time carefully, cautiously - gently brushed his lips against Marcus’. They were wet with wine and tasted of tobacco, but not just that. They tasted like him. Like the air tasted in his chambers, like his hair smelled, when he leaned close enough. Like home. Lips still almost touching they breathed the same air. Marcus closed the gap and pressed his lips into Julius’. First painfully softly, then with his whole body pressing closer. His hands grabbed Julius’ face. Hungrily. Julius could not hold back his desire. It poured over as he sank his fingers into the thick hair in the back of Marcus’ head.

He had to pull back before he lost all of his sense. Holding each other, heads still together, they took breathless gasps of air. Julius was about to lean for another kiss, but with pains stopped himself. He bit his lip as he shook his head.

“This is a pretty dangerous place for this…” he breathed.

Finally he tore himself away from Marcus. A gasp escaped Marcus’ lips. For a moment they just stood there, both quite breathless. Marcus’ pipe was on the ground, very snuffed out. Julius picked it up and lighted it up again like before, now very aware of the memory Marcus’ lips had pressed into it. He let his lips linger on it for a moment, clinging to Marcus’ taste. Marcus took the pipe back and raised it on his lips with slightly trembling fingers. Julius had to look away. The urge to throw that pipe away and kiss him again was very hard to resist.

[nutteu]

Saltburn Jumanji AU

[rambling compilation]

ok so, i've just rewatched jumanji, all three movies, and i think i'd like to see saltburn with 'welcome to the jungle' (movie, 2017, with jack black and the rest) because it'd be easier to integrate the casts and everything, and because i think there should be more of van pelt in the story, don't you think?

like, felix as spencer, venetia as bethany, farleigh as fridge, maaayyybe annabel as martha (or not, idk yet) and oliver, oh dear oliver would be alex, because it'll be fun, having oliver as the one being stuck in the game for twenty-two years. sure, it works for felix too, but i have something in mind with this arrangement.

the kids got into the game, they got trampled over by rhinos and hippos and whatnot, yadda yadda yadda. then, they met oliver, the pilot (master of the air, hahaha), romance happens, but also misery, because we always need drama and misery for them, don't we?

at the final sequence, we find out that it was all a trap, all along. oliver had been waiting for people to go along the journey, so he can finish the game as well, yes. but it changed the moment he met felix, and was told that he had been stuck in the game for twenty-two years (he came from 2002, felix and the rest from 2024), and realized that even if he got out of this cursed place, there is a risk that he won't be able to see felix. so... why not just stay? he can't say that to the others, though, they'd refuse immediately, even felix. oliver has to make him stay one way or another, make felix see that they should stick together, side by side, with no one else and no way home to ensure that felix would be there with him.

oliver has been working with van pelt, has been reporting the situations to the man as he embarked on the journey with the jumanji team, with felix. we of course got a scene where he was accidentally bit by a mosquito, his weakness in the game, and felix saved him by giving him his life (he didn't lose any heart s the way spencer did because fridge shoved him off the cliff, farleigh can be ruthless but not that heartless). we got a kiss, and oliver cementing his decision to chase after felix because felix had just literally saved his life.

at the end, after the revelation and oliver's realization as well as making the plan for felix to stay, the team went towards the jaguar statue, except this time, instead of going together, they got separated one by one as per oliver's instruction to split up, because of the jaguars running after them and van pelt's men as well. it was a ruse for oliver to orchestrate their death, because they were liabilities and were prone in reminding felix that they have to go home. this way, there will be no reminder, no loved ones, and it will give an illusion of despair in felix's head because he lost his cousin and sister.

at that moment, when felix has reached the top of the statue, ready to receive the jewel for the eye from oliver, the last act of treachery will happen. oliver didn't get him the jewel, instead, he acted like he had been captured by van pelt and the only way to save him was for the jewel to be traded with his life. it's a precarious situation, because at this point, felix has lost one life to save oliver, one from being torn apart by the jaguars because he slipped from the trees, and only one left to risk. and it is risky, because there's no resurrection after this, no more second chance. it's either the jewel or oliver, who also only has one life left.

at the end, looking at oliver's terrified face, the tears streaking down his cheeks, felix gave up the jewel and let van pelt have it. he gets oliver back, crying and apologizing profusely to felix, because he says "it's my fault-- it's my fault felix, i'm so sorry. i shouldn't have told them to split up; should have been more careful with van pelt. now they're dead and we're stuck. we can't go home. i'm so sorry."

felix wants to be angry, of course he does. he lost people close to him and the only chance for him to get out of this god-forsaken universe, to go home. but he can't blame oliver for it (poor, gullible child) and at least... at least this way, he won't be alone, the way oliver had for twenty-two years. at least they have each other, and that should be enough.

even though he has to sacrifice his life; even though he has to let go of the world as he had known it. it's okay, because he'll be with oliver, and they will be all right, even though they'd never, ever make it home.

end. (happily ever after, at least for oliver, because come on, he's been gone for twenty-two years, the least jumanji can do to atone is giving him felix. for now; for eternity.)

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 5

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Wrong Answer

Readers who have read novels such as transmigration, quick transmigration, and system plotlines, know that if the fate of the character in the story must be changed, it should be prevented before the character's tragic fate has occurred. However, Song Qingshi interpreted this as the event having already occurred, and was meant to save the character who had already suffered a tragic fate. This train of thought meant that his decision was a thousand miles off.

In the original book, Yue Wuhuan only appeared three times:

The first time was when the shou protagonist had just been sold to Golden Phoenix Manor. When he saw the unbearable scene of Yue Wuhuan being played with by the guests, his three views shattered.

The second time was when the protagonist's naive illusion of the future was destroyed and he was forced to accept his identity because of the ridicule and humiliating remarks of Yue Wuhuan.

The third time, Yue Wuhuan was taken out by Jin FeiRen on the Langgan stage to treat the guests and was accidentally torn to pieces by the demon tiger. Jin FeiRen concealed the actual explanation of the demon tiger's madness and treated it as a deliberately arranged game for the banquet. With this extreme fear, he shattered the last trace of the protagonist's dignity, making him completely surrender and become a plaything.

In short, Yue Wuhuan was a small supporting role with little substance, leaving the plot early, using his degeneracy to offset the beauty of the protagonist. His beauty was only like that of a beautiful flower that was about to wither. How can it be compared with the pure and clean flower bud that had not yet bloomed in the dawn?

This was a super simple multiple-choice question that every reader could figure out!

If the system was a living thing and watching over the exam being taken, it would be so angry that it would have come out and beaten that foolish Song Qingshi to death.

Scholar-Tyrant Song didn't know that he had drifted so far from the original goal, but he was still eagerly confident, trying to do his best and vowing to get a perfect score!

On the way back to the Valley of the Medicine King, Song Qingshi had recalled all the memories of his original body and integrated it with its massive knowledge of medicine and alchemy. There were rare and exotic herbs and miraculous medicines in the cultivation world. However, similar to traditional Chinese medicine, even if the medicine worked wonders, the science behind the effects of these medicines was still a mystery.

Modern medicine conducts systematic research on traditional Chinese medicine to find out the monarch-minister-auxiliary relationship within its components, extracted the useful ingredients in each concoction, and then developed medicine that was easier to take and had even better results.

A female scientist won the Nobel Prize for this, benefiting the world. Song Qingshi focused on modern medicine, leaped away from the traditional path of immortality, and quickly found new ideas for solving problems for many areas that the original body had failed to properly study. He used the Tiangong Pavilion to make modern scientific instrument substitutes, and then analyze the effective ingredients in the immortal medicines, purify them, research them, and even artificially synthesize them. . .

In Song Qingshi's mind, there were countless experimental schemes in an endless stream, and there were tens of thousands of books and inexhaustible medicinal materials in the Medicine King's Valley, as well as abundant research funds.

He was overjoyed, like a mouse that fell into a vat of rice. He wanted to kiss the system if he could.

Song Qingshi fully understood why the original body lived here, staying in such a cultivation paradise. He could live here for the rest of his life!

He could immerse himself in the ocean of intense studying and research every day. He could dedicate his life and soul to his favourite medical god. No one could send him back!

Song Qingshi looked at Yue Wuhuan in his arms. The more he looked at him, the more he loved him.

This was the big treasure that had given him everything! He would do everything he could to save him, just like his parents used to treat him before; indulged, spoiled, loved, and giving him all the good things he needed so that he can live a happy life like a prince in a fairy tale!

Song 'a father's love is like a mountain' Qingshi was full of ambition. He suppressed his excitement and immediately placed Yue Wuhuan in the side hall of his bedroom. He did everything by himself. First, he poured the elixir carefully with the crane-mouthed pot to re-invigorate the breath of life. Then he changed into white clothes, put on a homemade mask, and found a pair of extremely thin animal leather gloves. After he finished disinfecting the wounds, gently cut off the blood-soaked gauze and feather skirt on Yue Wuhuan's body with scissors, rinsed the wounds, and then sutured them with very fine silkworm thread. Then, he cut off the shackles and treated his ankle wounds.

Song Qingshi's movements were extremely gentle and quick, barely touching any skin, but Yue Wuhuan's body was extremely sensitive. He twitched slightly and groaned a few times before falling asleep again. Song Qingshi took the opportunity to take some blood samples for analysis, and also performed a full-body scan of him with his mental probe. He was a good-tempered person, but after seeing the disastrously ruined dantian and meridians in Yue Wuhuan's body, he couldn't help but curse darkly at those beasts. He scolded them repeatedly, thinking about how he was going to explain this situation to him once he woke up.

Song Qingshi was not good at communicating with strangers. He was able to make do when discussing his interests, but his thoughts often went blank when forced into small talk. For example, when everyone watched the popular men's group selection variety show together and argued over who was the male god?

He answered sincerely that it was Asclepius, the god of medicine. . .

Song Qing hasn't understood why everyone said he killed the conversation.

He thought hard for a long time and remembered that when his Lou Gerhig's hadn't been as advanced, he worked in a hospital for an internship. His senior brother knew that Song Qinshi was afraid of social interaction and would end up a stuttering mess when he tried to have conversations with his patients. He taught Song Qingshi: "Push down all of your feelings and act like a medical machine. First write down their case in detail and their treatment plan, recite it with a smile, and then end with a comforting sentence." Song Qingshi took this secret technique, practiced many times in front of the teacher, and, finally, he could talk to patients without fear.

A hospital is a place for treatment, just like how the Medicine King's Valley is a place for treatment. What's the difference?

After Song Qingshi had this epiphany, he replaced Yue Wuhuan’s bed sheets and bedding with the white ones commonly used in hospitals. He ordered the valley servant to make several sets of patient clothes, put them on by himself, and then tied roots on his wrist to represent the hospital information band. With a red wristband and a sign on the bed with "Special Care" and the instructions for how to care for him, Song Qingshi instantly felt calm in this makeshift hospital environment.

He wasn't comfortable with the type of care that the valley servantswere giving and took on nursing himself. He was careful and not afraid of getting tired. He wiped down Yue Wuhuan's body and washed his face, fed him medicine and water, and even replaced the bedding to deal with all kinds of filth.

When Yue Wuhuan woke up three days later, he was confused. He didn't know where he was. He stared at the white veil on the top of the bed in a daze for a long time. He finally realized that he was still alive and he hadn't been this relaxed in a long time.

He closed his eyes, faintly recalling the slight fragrance of medicine lingering from his dream and the hands that had gently released all the restraints for him. He took a deep breath. He didn't want to wake up and face the never-ending nightmare.

After who know's how long, Yue Wuhuan threw his eyes open, remembering where he had smelled the fragrance of the medicine. He slowly turned his head and looked at the round table next to him, but saw that Medicine Master Xianzun was attentively making changes to the cursive writings on the table. He was frowning, his expression serious, as if thinking about something bad. There was also a familiar spirit bead in the silver plate next to him, and it became obvious that he had been given to another guest to be played with.

Yue Wuhuan’s phoenix eyes shrank. The rumors of the perverse and evil deeds of the Medicine Master Xianzun appeared in his mind, but he was not afraid. Whether he was willing or unwilling meant nothing under the control of the spirit bead. Besides, his broken body was no longer worthy of being cherished. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and struggled to get out of bed, but a sharp pain came from his shoulder, which made him dizzy and he fell right back down. Song Qingshi never had any distractions when he was researching. He heard the movement and found that the patient was awake. He was afraid that Yue Wuhuan might have moved his body and reopened the wound. He quickly reprimanded him with a stern tone: "You, go to bed right away! You are not allowed to get off for ten days!"

This stern technique was a secret taught by the head nurse of the hospital. It had a good effect on treating patients who didn't follow the doctor's advice.

"Ten days?" Yue Wuhuan was stunned. He couldn't help but look at Song Qingshi up and down. The more he looked, the more he felt that his appearance was deceiving. He had been with guests for many years, and he was used to seeing many lustful scenes, but he never would've guessed that this person had such prowess in the bed. . .

Seeing that he hadn't gotten back on the bed, Song Qingshi put down his pen, walked over and picked him up with his own hands.

Yue Wuhuan remained unmoved, stretched out his hand and gently hugged his neck. Hot fingertips touched his cool skin, as smooth as cool jade, and the clear and clean scent of medicine wrapped around him gently like if he was in a dream. Yue Wuhuan couldn't help but shake for a moment. He chasticized his heart for still not knowing how to behave, then resumed his usual posture, and breathed out ambiguously: "I hope that Xianxun will take pity. . ."

"Don't worry, I will." Song Qingshi put him back on the bed carefully, then pulled the blanket up. He wrapped him up tightly, and solemnly told him, "The valley is wet and cold. You have a mortal body so be careful of the cold and stay under the blanket. Keep your hands and feet tucked in and don’t kick off the sheets."

Yue Wuhuan had never seen this trick in bed before and was at a bit of a loss.

"You;re a patient now. Let me tell you about your situation." Song Qingshi turned back to the table, picked up a stack of paper covered with words. He nervously pushed the non-existent glasses on the bridge of his nose, and read with a smile, formulating his tone. "The patient is Yue Wuhuan. There are three lacerations from the right shoulder to the chest, which are 18 cm, 14 cm and 12 cm long. The right shoulder bone is fractured, and the suprascapular artery has been ruptured. The right elbow has a skin contusion. The left and right wrists have skin tissue bruises, the left and right knees are bruised along with the left and right ankle tissue. The buttocks skin has soft tissue lacerations. There are signs of drug abuse in the body and potentially drug addiction. Do you understand?"

Yue Wuhuan only felt that his stiff smile must look increasingly forced. The more he thought about it, the crazier everything seemed. All he could do was nod his head and pretendto understand.

"Very good." Song Qingshi felt that what he said was both detailed and easy to understand, and began to recite the preliminary treatment plan. "Your dantian and meridians have been destroyed, and your body is seriously damaged. Your body is too fragile right now to use stronger medicine, so you cannot take Rejuvenation Pill, Gather Breathe and Disperse Pill, All Creation Pill or the Bone Growth Pill. You need to be treated with mortal medicine first, and then treated with the Six Meridian Rejuvanation medicated bath. Then you'll take the Rising Dragon Pill and Nine Revolution Blood Lotus Pill."

Yue Wuhuan finally understood what he was saying. These pills were common immortal medicines, and he had also taken it when he was seriously injured.

The All Creation Pill and Rising Dragon Pill were worth thousands, and he had heard that the poster of Jape Pearl Tower's Lord had used it for his own treasure.

He didn't know what the Six Meridian Rejuvanation medicated bath was, but the Nine Revolution Blood Lotus Pill was the treasure of the immortal world. It is made of ten thousand year-old blood lotuses. There were only nine in the world and only few know where their locations. He only knew that the master of Xuanji Palace had used it and ascended to Fen Shen; the lord of Fluttering Snow Fortress turned against his Daoist companion and killed him and his wife to win the treasure; one appeared in the Qizhen Pavilion auction, and it was won by the owner of the East Sea Langya Pavilion with hundreds of thousands of high-grade spirit stones. For some reason, Jin FeiRen wasn't able to participate in the auction. He always brought it up as one of the greatest regrets in his life.

If it were described in mortal terms, it would be like saving a beggar on the side of the road and saying that you would give him precious delicacies, golden houses, jade horses, and billions in wealth. FInally, you tell him you'll give him the fade seal of the country and all lands under the heavens. Only an idiot would believe these claims.

Yue Wuhuan laughed but his heart was cold. He basically confirmed that Song Qingshi was just toying with him.

He had also encountered many such sweet talkers, pretending to show compassion for some and pity for others. All he wanted, though, was to coax his slaves to play this game with him. He only lusted after his dirty body, in the end.

Song Qingshi finished off with some final closing words: "Don't worry, as long as you follow the doctor's advice and cooperate with the treatment, you'll be cured."

"Okay," Yue Wuhuan's phoenix eyes showed a bit of flattery, and he replied in a sultry voice: "This slave depend on Xianzun for everything. . ."

"I almost forgot." Song Qingshi looked into his eyes and suddenly remembered something. He put on the animal skin gloves again, picked up a luminous bead the size of a goose egg and placed it in a strange, long, tube-shape lampshade. Then he sat on the side of the bed, leaned over and looked at Yue Wuhuan. He gave him a serious warning: "This may be a little uncomfortable, please bear with me."

Yue Wuhuan smiled self-deprecatingly. He let the phoenix eyes show waves of desire, and he relaxed his body, waiting to be played with.

Song Qingshi stretched out his hand and opened his eyes, illuminating the inside of the eyes with the luminous bead. He carefully observed for a while, then whispered: "The problem of the lacrimal secretion system is not visible on the outside, so I still have to do a colored dye inspection..."

Yue Wuhuan: "???"

[viriyanon]

'tired' ? for your challenge :P

a.n. anon u... u reel me into a very dangerous thought okay. for the first 3 minutes, congratulation. but not after that. not toDAY SATAN!!1!1!1!!1

also. this is unexpectedly LONG. SO. LONG.

jiang yuelou sighs in annoyance after hanging up zhan junbai's phone call, telling him that his men failed to track down hong kong's emerging opium dealer that currently supplies jing city with an unidentified type of poppy. the whole police bureau is on fire due to this discovery.

"all i could confirm is that they indeed sell a new type of opium, presumably from india. but we failed to extract any information about the leader, let alone catching them. they were enforced by british authorities and my men suddenly were outnumbered," says junbai dimly from the other side of the line, clearly not liking the unpredicted variable in their perfectly planned undercover.

the executive offers an apology, which yuelou dismisses in a second 'cause executive zhan, regardless this one very failure, is still the best external alliance ever. the most reliable source, partner, and friend. yuelou can't ask for a better connection than zhan junbai.

but that doesn't change the current result. coming with that are mayor cai's aggravation and bai jinbo's wrath. song rong and sun yongren can only dip their head down watching the commissioner throw those paper in their boss' face, saying how incompetent yuelou is.

("well, let's see if commissioner bai can capture them by himself!" sun yongren says quietly, aggressively biting a baozi in his head 'cause it's pass dinner already.)

so, having a bad day is an understatement. it's beyond bad, it's bad bad. jiang yuelou is not someone who accepts defeat easily, he never wants to be one step behind. when he's one step behind, he must be in the chasing mode—he must be the one controlling the lane, the illusion of safety margin that manipulates the target's decision, the pace of their game. but today, someone else's successfully taking over him without his permission, dragging him around like a lifeless ragdoll.

thinking about him getting controlled by an unknown party burns him, anger boils in his vein—violence at the tip of his fingers, ready to transfer his rage to anything and anyone without mercy. upon seeing jiang yuelou disappear into his room, song rong and sun yongren immediately rush to every corridor that yuelou will have to walk through to exit the building, telling everyone not to initiate any conversation if their boss pass them by to avoid making the bureau a blood painted crime scene.

"don't- don't talk to chief jiang when he walks out, understand?!" sun yongren repeats the same information to some rookies coming in for their night shift before running to other corridor. the young officers, still with their idealism and lack of experience, take it with a grain of salt.

next thing they know is they freeze under the wall-mounted lamp as jiang yuelou grimly walks down the corridor. noone says anything to him, not even looking up from the carpeted tiles after they nod to salute him. his subordinates immediately clear out of his way, bumping their shoulders into the wall to avoid bumping into the walking wrath instead.

the said chief passes by the rookies too, giving them a side-eye, and they feel like they just get caressed by death. the yellow lights from the filament lamp falls on his pale white face, clenched jawline, and riled expression every two meter, making his appearance more hair-rising due to scanty lighting and blank spots. in addition, winter wind is particularly strong this week, easily slipping inside from the gap between the window frame and the stone surface. the corridor, dimly lit and gravely chilling, feels like a gate to the underworld and yán wáng is coming to take them personally, for a good minute.

the chief keeps striding without diverting his attention anymore, eyes fixed forward to shove everyone aside. he only has one destination set in his mind now and before he gets to it, his revolver will aim towards whoever gets in his way and extricate them his way, which usually is... freestyle.

when yuelou arrives in front of yuzhi’s front gate, he can’t help the bubbling anger overflowing his already small pot. the wooden doors are closed, tight, locked, yelling at him “no chen yuzhi today.” noone in this world would understand the immense effect this sentence can do to jiang yuelou who has grown a co-dependency with the doctor. today is marked as yuelou’s worst setback in life.

the chief exhales loudly, admitting his defeat to the universe, and makes his way towards his house with heavy shoulders. the rage and anger he wanted to lash out recklessly towards chen yuzhi douses entirely by the fact that the doctor’s not home to listen to him vent. thank goodness the snowfall is not heavy today unless he’d bury himself under the thick snow in one of jing city’s darkest alley. it’s sad that he is alone in this big, big world today. dramatic, but valid.

just when he’s about to open the gate to his house, he sees they are already unlocked. jiang yuelou never forgets unlocking his own house. facing unforeseen danger on daily basis, yuelou immediately slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out the revolver from its holster. he opens the wooden gate slowly, trying not to make even a creak from the rusty hinge and accidentally announce his appearance instead.

slowly but steadily, the gap widens and he steps inside with his arms are stretched out, his revolver is ready for some quick shooting. but he is welcomed with his brightly lit house in lieu of a group of opium dealers whose lives he ruined in the past. his eyes widen in disbelief upon seeing steam rising from freshly cooked foods on his dining table. yuelou freezes from his place, his arms gradually lowering themselves as well as his self defense.

soon, a man dressed in a warm ivory white knitted turtleneck appears with two plates of dish in his hand coming out from his kitchen and setting them on the table with other dishes. his hair, as usual, combed neatly—unlike yuelou’s hasty finger-combing technique. he is wearing yuelou’s slipper, the one he left behind in his living room when he was off to work. the moment the said man looks up and meets him in the eyes, a smile blossoms on his face, so beautiful yuelou can feel his heart wrenches from the mere sight.

"yuelou? you're home."

this is the view he's always dreaming of for God knows how long but never dares to tell. to come home to chen yuzhi dressed in a warm clothes, smiling under the bright light of jiang residence and welcoming him with a tight hug. and if he tells him he misses him into his ear, yuelou will pepper him with kisses all over his face, free of charge for undeterminable time, until yuzhi is tired from giggling and trying to escape from his iron grip. until he puts his palm over yuelou's lips as the last attempt to prevent him from attacking his face again and smile playfully at yuelou's temporary defeat. until the glint in his gleaming doe eyes changes into something like want, something that sounds like a request to kiss him properly if yuelou has some energy left to be wasted.

and jiang yuelou will not ask twice if he catches yuzhi's eyes flicker to his lips just once and goes back to meet his eyes. because yuzhi will see him doing the same thing too and he will understand that both of them want it.

jiang yuelou slams the wooden gate close, storming towards chen yuzhi whose eyes widen at his explosive reaction. impulsivity has neither been a best friend nor a rival, in yuelou’s case, but he learns to run for what his heart longs the most. and this is the first time his body really runs for what his heart wants. his heart wants comfort.

the chief throws away his revolver once he is inside his house and immediately reaches out for the doctor. one of his arm pulls yuzhi closer to his body as tight as he could while the other one is fixated on yuzhi's jawline, gently tilting it to a better angle ‘cause,

fuck this.

"yue-"

chen yuzhi never finishes his name as yuelou closes their gap and captures his upper lip, his teeth painfully clashing against yuelou as the latter miscalculates his strength. but yuelou doesn’t stop to apologize like every time he accidentally hurt him, instead crowding him against the dining table and kissing the light out of him as if the last time he had a meal was a thousand years ago.

yuzhi is confused, very confused. this is not their first kiss, but this is the first kiss that yuelou does so overly rough, messy, and raw, like a mass mayhem in a week long blackout. he knows yuelou tends to be stormy when his trauma is triggered or his mission falls by the wayside but he never lets this kind of weather affects his behavior and treatment towards chen yuzhi. after the doctor treats him routinely and he gradually gets better at controlling his emotion.

understanding and patiently waiting are yuzhi’s best weapons to pacify yuelou, returning him back to the ground until both of his feet firmly embed to the soil. he only needs to mold it into a form of physical affection without trying to change his pace. something that jiang yuelou will perceive as an act of submission. only this way, yuelou can and will melt. he is not a man who can be persuaded by asserting one’s power on him, and coercion is never chen yuzhi’s forte anyways.

the doctor gently squeezes yuelou’s shoulder once where he places his hands before and moves to hook them around his neck. he buries his right hand in his black hair, his fingers are warm and heavy against the skin of yuelou’s head. his thumb is rubbing a small circle on his back head tenderly, like a mantra he does it over and over again until jiang yuelou comes back to his sense.

that’s when yuelou’s grip on his waist loosens little by little, his turbulent kissing reduces to a slower and intimate one—the one that always trips chen yuzhi and makes him fall deeper for the other man and his enigma. soft moan slips out of his lips only to get muffled by yuelou’s inadvertent growl. 

they gasp for air eventually but never leaving their hands from each other’s body, not quite ready to let go. in between their huff and puff, yuelou steals a soft kiss on yuzhi’s cheekbone.

“i’m sorry, love. i was–” yuelou hesitantly looks up, straight into yuzhi’s eyes. the decision is a bad move, probably the only bad move that yuelou has ever made ‘cause the emotion in yuzhi’s eyes, they remain calm and considerate, far from judgmental nor do they spiteful. his lips are bruised as hell but his eyes, they never stop glistening with benevolence and never-ending patience towards his lover.

jiang yuelou can’t stand the guilt rising in the depth of his heart after seeing them. they are together, chen yuzhi chooses to be with him not to be his outlet of rage. the image of his defenseless late mother flashes in yuzhi’s face and he instantly regrets whatever he forced yuzhi into earlier. even if it’s just a kiss, something he did daily, routinely, sneakily, wholeheartedly, nothing really abusive and malignant about it but yuzhi might be hurt today. and if yuelou hurts him, he is breaking his own rule written on the very top of the list.

“yuzhi, i’m sorry i–” chen yuzhi slides his hands, cupping the older man’s face that looks like a 13 year old boy now under the weight of his guilt. smiling ever so fondly, he says, “you are tired, love.”

words stuck in yuelou’s throat for the third time upon seeing yuzhi’s eyes that have perfectly sensed his weary and withheld agitation. it’s his red light, then. it’s time for him to let yuzhi take control of the situation and do his part of the day. to do what he is the best at that yuelou is the worst at. any other matters can wait until yuzhi deems him to be fully loaded with ammo and health again.

jiang yuelou leans forward into chen yuzhi’s body, resting his feverish forehead on the crook of his lover’s neck, seeking comfort and humanly touch. yuzhi can’t help smiling at yuelou’s clinginess—he never says it but he absolutely loves it. love the idea to take care of the most troublesome chief officer in the whole jing city. love the way his toned muscles and tensed neck relax under his lithe fingers as he bathes him in a bathtub.

“let me prepare hot water for your bath.”

“will you wash my hair too?”

“hm.”

“what else will you wash?”

chen yuzhi presses a kiss on yuelou’s cheek, whispering “make a wish” before walking towards the kitchen, and disappear behind the white wall.

[littlespoonevan]

it’s a feeling we always chase

okay so i have no idea what i’m going to do w this. i don’t know if i’ll write a longer fic exploring their relationship in s7 or whether i’ll do a series of little oneshots based on a couple of ideas i’ve had, but i’ve been listening to another place by bastille (which is where the title for this comes from) on a loop for at least a week and if i didn’t write something soon i was going to have a breakdown asdjkfhas so here’s a little prequel to the scene in the van in 7x10 (aka my fave scene)

enjoy!

*

Ian collapses against Mickey, covering the entirety of Mickey’s body with his own as he comes down from his release. This used to bother Mickey before – back before they were an official couple, back before they kissed, Mickey never liked to linger, never wanted them to touch longer than necessary.

He doesn’t seem to mind now though, his breathing heavy by Ian’s ear as he trails his fingers lazily over Ian’s spine.

Ian feels fucking drunk – he can’t even remember how they got here.

Things had been rushed and frantic down at the docks, they’d hardly lasted a few minutes before they were both tumbling over the edge. And rather than taking the moment after that to breathe or talk or do anything really, they’d kissed again. And again. And again until Mickey was drawing him towards the van from earlier, tugging on the shirt Ian had just put back on and dragging his lips down Ian’s throat in a way that made his brain short-circuit.

Fuck. How has any of this even been real?

He lifts his head, meets Mickey’s eyes for half a second and feels his chest ache at Mickey’s breathless smile before he’s dipping down to kiss him again, catching Mickey’s chin between his thumb and his forefinger to open his mouth.

Mickey hums into the kiss and his fingers tangled in Ian’s hair are tight and grounding as he moves his lips against Ian’s. And it’s addictive – kissing Mickey.

It always has been; ever since the first time Mickey had taken him by surprise and hauled him into a kiss that day in the van. Ian feels his mouth quirking up in a smile at the thought that they’re right back where they started.

He shouldn’t even be fucking surprised they’re back here – no matter how much bravado he had he’d felt his resolve break the second he’d heard Mickey’s voice on the phone this morning.

Eventually, the burn in his lungs gets to be too much and he forces himself to pull away, rolling off Mickey and onto his back beside him.

Mickey lets out an airy sigh and Ian cranes his head to the side when he feels Mickey’s eyes on him. Mickey’s smiling, still looking blissed out, but there’s something guarded in his face too, like he’s waiting for all this to be snatched away.

Ian’s stomach churns guiltily at that – two years of missing him privately, two years of being too much of a fucking coward to visit Mickey in prison – so he just curls two of his fingers around Mickey’s and hopes Mickey takes the silent reassurance for what it is. Ian doesn’t know how to navigate this, doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but he’s not ready to go back to the real world yet.

They clean up half-heartedly; the van isn’t exactly well stocked in amenities but they’ve fucked in way worse conditions before so Ian doesn’t feel quite as unclean as he has in the past when he pulls his jeans back up.

And then they’re lying next to each other again and Ian doesn’t know what the next move is supposed to be. He’s under no illusions that he’s the one in control of this situation – Mickey took the reins the second he stepped up from the dock.

“You need to leave?” Mickey mutters into the silence and it sounds purposefully neutral, like he’s trying not to react either way, like he’s bracing himself for the worst. Ian stares at him and sees Mickey’s eyes are closed, yet another shield against Ian’s answer.

And Ian probably should leave; it’s the responsible thing to do. But there’s nothing he wants less right now than to let go of this chance. He flounders for a moment, trying to come up with the right answer. In the end all he can do is wrap his hand around Mickey’s forearm. “Just- c’mere.”

Mickey opens his eyes and looks at him, expression searching, until he realises Ian’s rolling towards him and then he’s following suit, shifting onto his side with his back facing Ian. And Ian feels an overwhelming sense of catharsis as he fits himself to Mickey’s back, hooking one leg over Mickey’s and twisting his arms around Mickey’s chest so they’re splayed and covering most of Mickey’s torso.

Mickey shudders against him, breaths shaky as his fingers curl around Ian’s and lock in tight.

Ian breathes against his neck and closes his eyes, feeling comfort and relief rush through him so intensely he thinks it’d knock him clean over if he weren’t already lying down.

He lets go of one of Mickey’s hands to reach for one of the blankets around them and drapes it over them haphazardly, swallowing hard when Mickey snatches his hand back as soon as he’s able to. Ian responds by squeezing their joined hands against Mickey’s chest and pressing a kiss to Mickey’s shoulder.

“Fuck,” Mickey whispers and it sounds involuntary, like he’s feeling so much some of it accidentally slipped out.

“I missed you,” Ian mumbles, letting the fabric of Mickey’s Henley soften the words, and it’s not fair for him to say it but it’s true.

Mickey doesn’t reply but his knuckles are white where he’s clutching Ian’s hands in his own so Ian supposes that’s answer enough.

They lie like that for a while, letting their breathing settle and even out until it’s matching one another’s and Ian feels his mind wander. He thinks back to the last time they did this, in his own bed at home. It’d mainly been Mickey holding him back then – back when Ian had felt like he was drowning every single second of the day. But sometimes he’d been the one holding Mickey like he had in the months beforehand, in the way that had become as familiar as breathing, because sometimes he’d needed that familiarity, had felt grounded knowing he was wrapped around Mickey, knowing he was keeping Mickey safe.

He’s shared a bed with two different people since Mickey and he doesn’t think either of them have ever made him feel safe like that.

He wonders about Mickey then, about whether or not he’s let anyone near him while he’s been in prison. To fuck, probably. But this…

Ian feels a sharp stab of something like devastation and vindication at the thought that the last person to hold Mickey was probably him.

He stares at the back of Mickey’s head and he has to ask about it. He has to- “Are you awake?” he whispers.

Mickey shivers a little as Ian’s breath hits the back of his neck and he nods. “Yeah,” he replies, voice sounding thick and raw like he does when he’s trying to force back tears and Ian suddenly doesn’t want to ask the question anymore, doesn’t care about anything other than pulling Mickey impossibly closer.

He swallows down the lump in his own throat and squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in the side of Mickey’s neck and pressing kisses wherever he can reach.

Mickey releases an audible sigh and pulls Ian’s hands up from his chest, brushing his lips over Ian’s knuckles like they’re something sacred and this is too much.

Ian spent almost an entire year after his diagnosis feeling hardly anything at all and since then he’s gotten better at feeling normal again, at experiencing normal emotions. But nothing about the way Mickey makes him feel has ever been normal.

It’s been…intense and heady and all-consuming and fucking earth-shattering. But never normal.

“You wanna go to sleep?” Ian murmurs after a few minutes, mouth tucked against the hinge of Mickey’s jaw.

Mickey nods and there’s a question in the way he holds himself still against Ian, like he wants to be sure Ian won’t disappear as soon as he closes his eyes.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Ian promises quietly because if nothing else he can promise this.

Mickey nods again and settles his weight more firmly against Ian’s chest. Ian breathes him in one last time before closing his eyes.

And they go to sleep.

*

[harryandmolly]

fear and loathing in mandeville canyon *5*

summary: Shawn & Lilly, derailed, detoured, but maybe not destroyed

warnings: language, NSFW (unprotected sex), The Reckoning pt. 1 (this warning brought to you by Georgie Kingston)

wc: 4.7k

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

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. I mean… wow.”

“I know, right?”

Shawn and Lilly are sitting up in Lilly’s bed, her sheets pooled around their naked hips. Her phone sits between them, glowing the only light in the room. Her home screen is a picture of Lauren dressed as the Statue of Liberty from Halloween in college.

At first when Lilly checked the time, she was sure it said 5:04 PM. But given the time of year, it was too dark for that to be true. Shawn stirred and they inspected it together, equally bewildered. 

5:04 AM. They slept for a clean 14 hours. By the way they each stretch and groan, neither of them moved a muscle the whole time. Lilly feels like she’s at the brink of atrophy, with a comfortable soreness between her legs. 

She looks over at Shawn. He’s bleary-eyed, extra flushed from all the body heat they produce in the same bed together, with pillow marks on his cheeks and chest. Lilly has a mark across her side from the weight of his arm. It’s like they’ve been asleep for years.

Lilly lets her phone screen go dark. Dawn isn’t coming for a while. They’re alone. Their breathing syncs. Shawn yawns. Lilly follows. The quiet aches.

She reaches over to her nightstand and flicks on the lamp. The orange glow is made warmer than usual with his big brown eyes watching her. It’s different, though, than it has been. He’s not watching her like one of them is impersonating a dog in an ASPCA commercial. It’s curious and gentle, but there’s a confidence there, too. It seems she’s missed it.

“Hello there,” she sighs, coming down onto one folded arm on her side. He follows, mirroring her.

“Hi.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, looking him over. He squirms a little under her gaze.

“Thanks for shaving the gross facial hair.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “No problem. My mum made it pretty clear that she was going to ask me to shave it every time I FaceTimed her, so it was just delaying the inevitable.”

Lilly’s brows lift. “Did you like the gross facial hair?”

Shawn chuckles. “No. I guess I was just curious. I don’t really get to try shit like that most of the time. So.”

She nods, continuing her inspection, as though she hasn’t looked at him in the weeks they’ve been in Mandeville Canyon together. She doesn’t comment on his weight or the pallor of his skin. She has no business, given the way she’s been treating her own body. She internalizes it and moves on.

Timidly, she lifts her hand through his hair. His eyes flutter shut, he nuzzles into it automatically. She feels that ache between her thighs again, more prominently this time.

“But about the hair… maybe I should cut it. If you want me to.”

Shawn’s eyes brighten. “I didn’t know you could cut hair.”

“Oh, I can’t. I mean, I haven’t yet. But I’ll watch a video, we’ll be fine.”

He hesitates only for a moment, surprising her. “Ok. Yeah. It’s probably time.”

Lilly feels an odd sensation getting out of that bed and it can’t be blamed on low blood sugar or dehydration. The writer in her feels a scene ending when Shawn pulls himself up and walks into her shower, leaving the door open when he turns on the water and inspects his hair in the mirror, along with a couple of zits. The finality is an illusion, because life isn’t so neatly told like a screenplay. Even though she feels the scene is over, she has to stand up and find a clean pair of panties and think of some search terms to find a useful hair cutting tutorial on YouTube. There’s another scene and she doesn’t know what it is yet. She doesn’t even know what she wants it to be. But there’s putting the laptop down and walking away. There’s no stopping it.

Lilly wanders into the kitchen in panties and a tank top, too preoccupied to notice the utility scissors when she opens drawers looking for them. His footsteps are house-shakingly loud as they carry him from her side of the house to neutral ground. He arrives with a towel around his waist. His hair looks even more like sad limp noodles when it’s wet. He stops in the doorway, watching her. He waits until she pulls a chair into the empty space between the breakfast table and the island, under a bright cluster of lights. He takes the invitation to sit.

He even smells warm, somehow. Lilly’s urge to lick up the rivulets of tepid water coasting over the mountains and valleys of his back is disorienting.

They watch the tutorial together on her phone. It seems a small concession to make, given what he’s putting her in charge of. He doesn’t have any specific direction to give her beyond longer on top, shorter on the sides. So she goes hunting for some inspiration.

You would think she would know better than to dive into the “Shawn Mendes” tag on Tumblr. The seizing half-hiccup, half-pseudo stroke sensation she gets from accidentally coming upon a hoard of pictures of them together is back. Lilly blames a recent lack of exposure for the completely noticeable, pity-inducing reaction. Her callous has softened. After an awkward few seconds, she pivots to Google.

“I think we’re going for… like… February 2019 hair. That was really good hair,” Lilly insists, plowing ahead, gesturing to photos of him on the red carpet at the 2019 Brit Awards.

“Yeah,” Shawn replies, “That was good hair. Maybe a little longer on the sides though. I liked what I had going, like, before quarantine.”

Lilly grumbles something under her breath about googling photos of that era over her dead body. Shawn relents.

“It’s fine, you should cut it-- just cut it however. It’s fine.”

Lilly begins by balling up a little tuft from the top of his head into a teeny bun. She stands between his legs to arrange it, making sure it’s even on both sides. His eyes remain on his feet the whole time.

She starts at the back of his neck, smoothing his curls out to decide how much to trim. Her fingers are more helpful than the comb, she soon realizes, in keeping them flat enough to judge. She begins by cutting it shorter at the base of his neck so the short curls can do the sproing thing she likes. As she moves up the back of his scalp, she leaves it longer until she hits his funny little man bun. When the silence breaks, she’s so jarred she has to ask him to repeat himself.

“I…” he clears his throat, “I think it’s time that you ask me some of those questions.”

Lilly hates that she knows him so well she doesn’t have to ask which ones. She fluffs out the back of his head with her fingers and decides it’s not completely tragic, so she moves onto his left side.

There are considerations, of course. Is her stuff in a state that she could easily pack and bail in a short time frame if he reveals himself to be dumber than originally feared? Is digging up old dirt to toss it over a wound that won’t heal really necessary?

Is it a good idea to have this conversation while she’s wielding something that could easily be used as a deadly weapon?

Lilly takes a long moment to blink and sticks her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, eyeing the way his hair wraps over the tip of his ear. She brushes it with the pad of her thumb. It reddens.

There’s a preamble in her head, one that lectures him about the absolute necessity of honesty in this situation, the futility of the exercise if he’s not willing to be completely transparent. When she notes the way his knee bobs anxiously, she stops it in its frilly-worded tracks.

She pulls curls off the side of his neck, right over the freckles she likes, and snips.

“When did it start?”

Shawn doesn’t shrink or react in any noticeable way. This isn’t a surprising question.

“I started feeling it when we were in working on Senorita. We weren’t really talking much before that. We started texting a little. It was the first time I felt anything for her since you and me started.”

Lilly sections off the hair above his ear and starts to feel herself working slower. She remembers the first time she heard about the idea of the Senorita collab when he told her over the phone. He sounded tired. Lilly was enthusiastic, knowing he and Camila had been closer before Lilly was in the picture. She felt some guilt for driving some kind of wedge between them, however unintentional. The collab seemed like a nice way to reconnect with a friend.

“The music video.”

Lilly doesn’t phrase it as a question. She doesn’t need to.

“That was when things came more… into focus. She and her ex were in the process of breaking up. I didn’t know for sure then what was going to happen. But it was the first time I thought something actually might.”

Lilly focuses on the way his hair sits above his ear, debating about how short to cut it. She recalls FaceTiming with him from rehearsals. He was so excited. He was nervous about dancing. Lilly teased him. He reminded her repeatedly that he loved her. She wonders if it was more for him to hear out loud than it was for her.

“What exactly happened between you before you broke up with me?”

Shawn flinches slightly. Lilly feels the sick pleasure of it sizzling in her fingers, imagines a tick arriving with a satisfying ping in her nonexistent column.

Shawn takes a deep breath. “It was… at one of the viewing things before the final cut of the video. We got drunk.”

Lilly’s heart slams in her chest like a fish out of water. This was a mistake.

“I knew she and Matthew were done but I asked anyway. We were… we were the last ones there and just fucking around, being goofy. I kissed her.”

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Shawn doesn’t ask to look at whether she’s defacing one of his calling cards.

“Anything else?” Lilly asks coolly, wondering if a fuck might’ve actually felt like less of a soul-deep betrayal. Doesn’t matter, probably. She still lost him.

“Not until after.”

Lilly systematically strokes her fingers through his hair as she switches over, angling to determine if the sides are even. Her stomach hurts.

“Did you tell her you were going to leave me before you did?”

She watches him swallow.

“Yes.”

Lilly remembers the image she had of her sitting in the back of a dark Uber Black, hunched over her phone, waiting outside Lilly’s house for the deed to be done.

The questions are sprouting faster than Lilly can come up with a strategy for dealing with them. She takes a weed whacker to her mind unsuccessfully.

“What did she-- how did she--”

Lilly stalls out and drops her scissored hand by her side. Shawn looks over at her patiently. He doesn’t cower or turn away or guilt her out of this line of questioning with a glance.

Lilly shakes her head and waves her not-sharp hand for him to turn his head back. She gets to work evening out the sides, pinching his strawberry-scented ringlets, making a focused effort not to yank at them.

“All the pictures… the paps, whatever. Did you consider what that would do to me?”

Shawn keeps his head forward, eyes fixed on the refrigerator at the other side of the room. He wets his lips and speaks, “I… didn’t really let myself focus on it. I told myself it wasn’t really my fault, I wasn’t the one calling them and doing all that shit we did in the beginning. I told myself it wasn’t about me and Camila, it was about the single, so anything we did to promote the single was ok.”

“That was a very long-winded no.” Lilly keeps her voice even.

“There’s so much I did that I handled completely fucking wrong. We, I mean you and I, we were hitting this point, this weird, shitty point where we were both really busy and couldn’t be around each other that much. It had been over a year and the, like, giddiness wasn’t there at the time. Like, neither of us was that happy then.”

Lilly’s nostrils flare. Her lips purse and begin to part, ready to unleash hell.

“I used it as a shitty fucking excuse for something I was probably going to do anyway.”

Lilly takes a step back. She drops the scissors beside him and crosses her arms, staring expectantly. Shawn takes the scissors and fiddles with them.

“The honest, stupid fucking truth is that I had this… I dunno, this thing for her. I could never totally let go of it. That’s not to say I wasn’t happy with you, or that I was thinking about her when I was with you… that was never it. But when she started showing interest in me, when she was telling me about the shit with Matthew, I just… I think I felt like it had to happen. Like something I had to get out of my system. I romanticized it at the time; it felt like fate, maybe.”

“I’ve heard the song, Shawn,” Lilly snaps. Shawn blinks hard, but is otherwise still.

“I know. I know you, Lill, I know you’ve been through the whole catalogue, tearing it apart, deciding what was about her.”

He’s not wrong, Lilly thinks bitterly.

“I felt this weird kind of instant relief when I was sure she wanted me. It checked this old box that felt like it was going to stay unchecked forever. I felt so shitty, calling it off with you, but it felt like I was doing what I was supposed to. But it wouldn’t have felt so shitty if it were really what I was meant to do.”

“Do you realize how entitled and selfish you sound right now?”

“Yes.”

The tightness in Lilly’s face relaxes, her expression blank. She wasn’t expecting such an easy response. She wasn’t expecting a real response at all.

“I do. It’s ok if you don’t believe me, I don’t really blame you. I haven’t given you any reason to. But if we have a shot in hell, and fuck, I hope we do, I think you need to hear this. I don’t think you’ll ever stop wondering unless I really lay it all out.”

Lilly swallows a lump in her throat and releases the tuft of hair, sliding the elastic back on her wrist. As she ruffles through his damp hair, Shawn’s eyes slide closed.

“Keep talking,” Lilly whispers.

“So I did it. I ignored how fucking bad I felt after that initial relief. Like, not just bad because of our fight, just… bad. I had done the wrong thing. I made the wrong choice. I do still think it was the choice I was going to make because I’m fucking young and stupid. I just--”

His jaw tenses, the muscle in his cheek twitching. Lilly waits patiently, parting his hair.

“I might’ve always wondered. I’m a hopeless romantic idiot. But at least now she’s not the one that got away anymore. She’s the one I tried it with and realized it didn’t work.”

Lilly closes her eyes and exhales through her nose. She waits for the words to hit all the spots they did before when he tried to talk this out with her, the pain points. Spots that made her snarl and retch and wail and slash at him. Instead they feel like a rising tide around her knees.

“So… what happened?” she whispers.

“For a while we lived on the high of the single. Both our teams were so focused on it and on us. The VMAs and everything, finishing tour. By the time the Grammys came around I think we were both so fucking sick of that song. The backlash that came from all the media attention… it didn’t just go away like we hoped it would. I started laying really low on social. She was getting ready for tour and I was working on the album. Not being focused on the same thing, on promoting one song, it helped put things more into perspective I think. Pulling away started to feel… natural.

“And then the pandemic came. It felt like a time to hit reset. I went down to Miami and felt pretty stupid because everything just got so much worse every day and I was worried about not even being able to leave. But… we were on the same page, basically. It wasn’t fun, but it was… right. Neither of us wanted it. We tried it, it ended. I think… I mean, we don’t hate each other. I don’t think we’ll be like, writing friends again. But maybe eventually we’ll talk again.”

Lilly sucks at her front teeth. “You haven’t talked at all since you left?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

Shawn looks thoughtful. “Not… yet. I don’t think I have anything to say that we haven’t said already. Maybe… I dunno, maybe that was part of it. I always felt like I wanted to talk to you, like I always had stuff to tell you, even stupid stuff. Me and Camila ran out of stuff.”

Lilly shifts to stand in front of him, keeping her gaze on his hair, though her eyes are not in focus. She sifts her hands through it while she thinks.

“I still have more questions. I’m just…”

She trails off. Shawn nods carefully.

“It’s ok. I’m… not going anywhere.”

Lilly’s eyes shut. “I think it’s important for you to understand that when you say things like that, my head immediately comes back with “but you did.” You did go somewhere. You didn’t come back for a long time.”

Shawn pauses, then nods again. Lilly sighs.

“I’m not saying this to punish you anymore. I don’t want that. It’s not doing anything for me. But you need to understand that I can’t just turn it back on. Even when you make me want to.”

Shawn’s expression clears. He turns his head slowly as she continues ruffling his hair, snipping odds and ends. She doesn’t look down at him.

“I do understand. I’ll wait, Lill. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“And what if I don’t know what I need?”

Shawn looks unconcerned. “Then I’ll wait for you to.”

Lilly continues sculpting his hair like a topiary. He looks older with his hair this way. She thinks it’s not a total disaster, maybe.

“I have another question,” she announces. Shawn waits expectantly.

“If the pandemic didn’t happen… when were you going to end it? When were you going to come to me?”

Shawn’s brows raise, but he looks far away again. “Truth is I almost did a few times. A bunch of times after the holidays. I had this countdown clock in my head because I knew as soon as we finished the album, I wouldn’t just be able to spontaneously come see you, not if I wanted to spend any real time with you. I just kept scaring myself out of it.”

She understands that, especially given the way their first meeting went down.

Lilly internalizes the answer, then turns back to her imaginary notes. Each question has a line through it. Nothing new materializes. She frowns.

“I don’t have any more questions.”

Shawn bobs his head, watching her closely.

“I might have more questions later,” she continues. His expression doesn’t change.

Lilly drops her hands to his shoulders. He blinks but reorients himself, slowly guiding his hands to her hips. She steps closer. His knees widen. As Lilly folds herself over him, pressing her face into his hair, he collapses into her, his forehead against her sternum. Her relief is narcotic. Her head hasn’t been this truly empty since… she can’t remember when.

He smells like her. He’s holding her. He’s breathing her air. He’s hers. Little by little, she’s starting to believe it.

Lilly steps around his legs and lowers into his lap. Their eyes are nearly level. Shawn locks his arms around her back. His nose brushes hers.

“Ok,” Lilly murmurs.

Shawn inhales and exhales deeply. “Ok.”

Lilly’s hands rest on his chest as he kisses her. He doesn’t come at her with fire and brimstone this time. He has nothing to prove. He knows exactly how good it feels. He seems to want to slow down and enjoy this as much as she does. He kisses her long and slow because they have the time. His hands remain mostly still. He seems to feel that she needs the stasis, despite their frenzied night.

Shawn’s kisses whisper to Lilly with each pass -- is this ok? How about this? I don’t want to push it. I care too much to push it. They’re the easiest sentiments to believe when they’re said like this.

Lilly drapes her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the breadth of them, plucking her lips away in shorter bursts until they’re pecking innocently, smiling with closed eyes between points of contact.

“Do you want to check out your hair?” Lilly offers, shifting back in his lap. He’s the most marvelous shade of pink.

“Oh,” he starts, pulling a hand up into the still damp chunky strands, “I can look later. I’m sure it’s great. It feels way lighter, actually.”

Lilly is smug. “You just want to sit here and keep kissing.” His smile is megawatt. She’s blinded.

“Can you blame me?”

Kissing him is… completely lovely. Lilly refamiliarizes herself with him in a way she didn’t yesterday. Her fingers find the tendons in his shoulders, the ridge of his adam’s apple, the little hoop in his earlobe. It’s a redundant kind of flirtation, given that she’s already in his lap, but it might be more for her than for him.

His lips skate down her neck as they break for air. He tucks kisses under her hair over marks she doesn’t remember him leaving. Lilly closes her eyes and exhales slowly, letting herself hate them a little for tearing each other to shreds. It wasn’t like them. Even when they were at their most frantic together, it wasn’t like that.

Lilly feels a lump in her throat. He must sense the change in her breathing. But instead of pulling away to check on her, Shawn pulls her closer, fills all the spaces her body leaves until she’s cradled against him, chest shuddering. He presses his nose into her hair and rocks her softly, back and forth, until he feels her tears dripping off his shoulder down his bare back.

“It’s ok,” he murmurs, the vibration from his voice tremoring through her body, “If it feels good to cry, you should cry.”

Shawn has a way of saying things to her that would bring her no relief to hear them from anyone else. Even though she believes him, and she’s pretty sure he’d sit here into the night and let her cry herself dry against him, she pulls back. He looks her over. She stares at his swollen mouth. He sweeps his thumbs beneath her eyes.

“I’m sick of crying,” she tells him with a short nod. He nods back. His eyes are clear and so warm. His hands sift back into her hair and hold it all, scrunching tumbling, escaping strands like he can’t bear to let any of her go. He kisses her breathless.

“Be gentle with me,” Lilly pleads on a sigh, releasing him only long enough to undress. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

He’s always been patient, even when she could barely stand to let herself be touched by him. He waits until every sound out of her chest is nearly a whine and her fingers curl into his freshly cut hair, cajoling him. When their bodies finally connect, he’s slow and deliberate, the tips of their noses together, their fingers clenched together against her thigh. She doesn’t thrash or force or scrape for him. He doesn’t stop until she’s melted for him, draped over his shoulder, panting with need. She clings, he gives. When she’s finished, she cups the back of his neck and whispers until he’s shaking beneath her.

They slither to the kitchen floor, exhausted, reluctant. He tosses tufts of his shorn hair at her. She pretends to put it back where she cut it off. They order from a local cafe for breakfast and kiss until the food is cold.

+

“So when do you want me to cut your hair?”

Lilly looks up from the Instacart order in progress on her phone. His arm is around her shoulders, his fingers sifting through the dry ends of her gold hair. He said it like he’s reminding her of something she had already asked of him. Her brow furrows.

“You’re not cutting my hair.”

Shawn looks down and mirrors her expression. “What?”

“I’m not letting you cut my hair, Shawn.”

He gawps. “But you just cut mine!”

“Yeah, what the fuck were you thinking? Your hair is like half the reason people like you.”

Shawn’s eyes light up. His grin is so big she thinks his face is gonna split. This time, she’s the one mirroring him.

“You seriously don’t trust me to cut your hair? It can’t be that hard, your hair is straight. I just have to keep it even.”

“But I have layers,” Lilly explains patiently, turning to pull her legs up beside her on the couch, “And my stylist uses thinning shears, which we don’t have. And also… you’re not cutting my hair, Shawn.”

He huffs and pulls away. “Maybe not when you’re awake anyway.”

Lilly looks up from her phone. He’s wearing an impish smile. She kisses it until his lips are soft and pliable against hers, and he’s making the little content sounds she likes.

Shawn gets curious and trails his kisses off down her jaw. Lilly’s eyes are shut. She’s getting ready to crawl into his lap for the third time in 24 hours when her phone buzzes with a news alert.

LA County extended shutdown to all but essential business through July.

They stare at the phone together. Shawn’s brows lift. He rubs a hand over his mouth.

“Jesus,” he mutters.

Lilly chews her lip. July?

July.

Quietly, because they’re both in their own heads, they make their way to the kitchen to continue taking stock of the groceries they have and what they need. Lilly’s head is swimming in numbers -- will the bump in unemployment continue? Is she going to have to ask for her parents’ help with rent? Could this go through the end of the summer, or even longer?

She senses him behind her even through the haze of her own anxiety. He places a hand on her hip, his thumb rubbing the worn cotton of her t-shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, more as a request than a demand. Lilly turns and tucks herself into his arms. He rocks her back and forth on their bare feet, which make a soft smushing sound against the cool tile. He’s sturdy enough to rest her weight against. Her hands clamor up only as far as his shoulder blades. It feels good.

“I know it’s really, really bad,” Shawn says into her ear, “Like, really bad, if they’re shutting down through July. But… I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Lilly rolls her eyes and lifts her head as her hands drift down his back.

“Yeah, seems like your plan is working out nicely. Taking me hostage, and all.”

He seems pleased with her teasing. He nods.

“Yep, got ya right where I want ya,” he admits, shrugging.

Lilly shakes her head and dives deeper into false dramatics. “Luring me here in my vulnerable state. You’re like Dracula. This is Stockholm syndrome. I should know, there’s a One Direction song about it. You’re holding me here against my will.”

Shawn grins again, that same face-breaking grin from before. It warms Lilly through more than the afternoon sun streaming in through the kitchen windows. He presses his forehead against hers.

“Your hands are on my asscheeks right now,” he points out.

She squeezes them. He flinches and somehow smiles even wider.

“Stockholm. Syndrome,” she insists, giggling until his lips meet hers again.

----------

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[commonalex]

future ready

future ready by common alex

Listen/download: future ready by common alex

It was around three months after I've been fired. I didn't dare to talk about it much, but it wouldn't that much of a mystery for someone to figure out why the short chick with the plaited hair isn't on the cash register giving wrong change to the old ladies anymore. To be perfectly honest, I was pretty devastated that I managed to fail even at working at the supermarket, where all you needed to get a grip was knowing how to count, wearing an "Olga" tag like a war medal, and acting like everything's okay at all times. Maybe that's why I ended up sneaking into it like a thief that day, out of stubbornness. It was the last sense of routine I had while everything was going under outside the window.

I could barely get out the bed before four in the afternoon. And when I did, all I had planned was dragging my body before the tv to catch some telemarketing and dumb commercials until the sun was out again and I successfully forgot who I am and what I'm going through. Because what other choices did I have really? For the last two years I was jumping from one dead end job to the next, either until I get fired or until I quit. I was leaving on benefits and a sad amount of savings, and I was starting to accept the fact that this would be my life from now on. Like, what else did I really have to rely on? Studies? Big deal, the world wouldn't end with just one english teacher less. Friends? Don't get me started. Family? All I was left with was a mother with a mission to make me feel horrible every time we spoke on the phone because I wasn't bothering to go see her. But even if I did, what would I have to say to her? I was mentally collapsing. So I said "leave it for now" and kept the thought pushed back for later. That's the reason why on that particular day I didn't pick up whenever my mom was ringing this cherry ericsson I had at the time. It wasn't like I really needed to answer, I already knew everything by heart.

"Have you seen how this girl you used to hang out at school does lately, Olga?".

No, mom, I haven't. It's been like ten years since I finished school.

"She's studying this thing you used to like, she got settled, she even has her own house".

Well done for her I guess, and?

"And you?".

I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life anymore, mom.

"But don't you ever think about your future?".

My long awaited future, huh? What a glorious future that was. It was so good, half of the people I used to know didn't make it halfway through.

Outside things were a bit more casual that the deep existential turmoil that was described by the news at the time, yet I was indeed shocked by that eerie amount of silence that was stretching through the cold winds that was piercing my purple coat. I could hear a tv screaming from two blocks away and the screeching roars of the phone lines echoing around the city, but there was barely any human voice left. I was only catching some mumbles and grunts here and there as I was jumping out of fear every time I had to turn around a corner. So it was just like everyday Athens, only with a little more of snow and fear of getting mugged. My social atrophy made me feel like I was being chased as the surrounding landscape was rapidly being stripped from anything that was reminiscing of a typical day. Like, that was the first time I ever saw people looting kiosks and butcher shops. I only managed to see like three to five people with their backs hunched, covering their faces while carrying those huge gray tv screens with the vhs player still attached or fifteen bags of chips, with their eyes moving around uncontrollably. All I had in my mind seeing these scenes was the word "brutalization". Maybe because all this time I wasn't fully aware of what was going on, or maybe because the news told the truth for once.

I snuck from the side door where the staff entrance was, because all the glass on the front of the supermarket was smashed to pieces and I didn't like the thought of my hands sliced open. It was a mess on the inside and the aisles stood empty like sad metal canyons. People must have broke in trying to get all the toiler paper and canned foods left in the previous weeks. From the expired milk bottles at the back to the unstoppable static noise of the refrigerators in front of me, there were all those special little touches to make me feel like I was working in this hole of a job again. And no, I did not bother searching for supplies. Instead, I walked around like I was out shopping with my mom, opening the boxes of the diabetes flavored cereal that no one bother to take, just to steal their toys. I also found a bunch of unopened boxes of the supermarket's very own faux chocolate milk (yes, the one with the dark industrial waste left on the bottom) that was probably expired as well. But, I was a lady, right? So I took some of them to the cash register, because Olga ain't no petty thief. I got around my place of work and scanned the bottles to find out that they cost something less than three hundred and seventy-five million. "Luckily, I don't have to calculate any change now", I thought. Never before have I ever experienced such relief while being there. I was sitting in the same place I was rotting for hours before the world turned to shit, and I was patiently waiting for a huge line of old ladies to pop out of nowhere just to ruin my vibe with their pension money bills. I almost started to miss all of those stuff. This must meant that things have really turned to shit.

The new millennium have begun just like any other year, against the disappointment and secret eagerness of some people. All that screaming about the revelation, the second coming of Satan, the aliens, and the revolution of the machines faded miserably as the days went by and absolute destruction was not to be seen. Yet, at least. Because the first planes that crashed mid-flight in South Africa and Indonesia didn't appear before the end of January, but all were like "okay, technical problems". And when missiles were accidentally landing on Iraqi cities, people were like "well, what to do, technical problems yet again". Only when the bank deposits got erased people started to cry and run like headless chickens. Young people now would call me cynical, but you had to be there to see it. It was crystal clear that people had all of their hopes and dreams for tomorrow stored into a single digit of a computer. A kind of tomorrow which was now failing to promise anything anymore in front of millions of simultaneous personal bankruptcies. Then the reactors in Italy exploded due to a system failure and tomorrow officially died. This tomorrow that we were told would bring everything to us, from cancer treatments to all of Britney's music stored in a tiny mini-disc. From flying cars to underground metros. From huge tv screens for each living room to the giant digital information highway better know as the INTERNET. Nowadays all of these sound so silly, but the pain in the faces of people from the betrayal of their dream did not seem to go away. Until mid-February, everyone lost their minds. Those who saw all of this coming ran away in fear of the new Chernobyl to leave the rest of us behind to die. Shops, services, offices, all ceased to have any actual reason to exist in from of the impending disaster. All you could see around anymore were padlocks, deflated bodies on the street from people that couldn't take it anymore, and some shadows of people left to wander like animals while pretending to be alive. Maybe that's why the tv was constantly playing commercials and other irrelevant bullshit during all of this, it was the last useful thing they could show to the people that were preparing for the grand finale.

But that grand finale wasn't so tangible for me. Everyone had this type of end predetermined, but this panic of theirs seemed more like a slightly less shallow version of the preexisting self-preservation to me. I wasn't convinced by those who screamed that the world was over simply because it already happened to their world. Like, just as Rome wasn't built in one day, their illusions weren't shattered overnight. I mean, at that time the supermarket was filled with those obnoxious promotional banners featuring the new slogan that was everywhere lately, before things change for the worse. They had the "FUTURE READY" catchphrase in large white letters that spread noisy and ridiculous lacking any particular meaning as everything was collapsing. What future exactly was that slogan referring to? The future in general, as a concept of time and space? They wouldn't have thought that out that much. Was it the future of humanity from now on? I wouldn't be so concerned for this with all those rich fucks that had already kissed as goodbye from their shelters, we were far from being extinct and in maybe less that ten years we could wake up with someone like Will Smith ruling the world. No, the catchphrase probably meant that future with the flying cars and the internet. The future only fools would believe it would come (and yes, people actually believe that). That future we lost just as fast as we were promised for it.

So in short, we were crabs in a bucket, pulling each other down in excruciating depths. This wasn't living nor surviving; we more or less kept on functioning like bio-robots with depression. But for me, things weren't looking so grim. "Look at me", I would say, "I reached twenty-nine and haven't done crap to be proud of, I drink expired chocolate milk and I'm secretly glad the world is ending because every day was borderline unbearable for me anyway, so how good would the future be for someone like me?". Nowadays the denial of any form of reality in this reasoning stands out, but at that moment I was reaching redemption. I was now reassured by the thought of the end, acting like a barrier that could block this endless loop that was running relentlessly against me. "So finally", I said to myself, "let's calm down once and for all". I was spinning around in the cashier's chair like a silly kid and was finishing up the bottles of milk like there's no tomorrow, while convincing myself that once everything goes to hell, my torment is over.

My phone’s vibrating through my coat cut me off the carefree twirling around my craziness. "Mom" was flashing on the screen again, but by that point I couldn't be bothered for explanations. Still, the dialogue kept running automatically like a script inside my head.

"I just can't get you. Do you keep on acting unbothered by the world? Even now? Who are you trying to convince anymore, Olga? Me? Because I know you have roughened up out of fear".

Well, truth is I was actually fearing you would start with that kind of shit again.

"You are getting more and more difficult to talk to. You are basically denying something we both clearly see at this point".

We seem to say the same exact thing, ain't that something? I guess I was kinda doomed from the start to be and look just like you.

"You really do me dirty with all these conclusions you're drawing out of anger".

Okay, so what? Did you get upset?

"Why are you angry at me, Olga? Can I hear you say it, just for once?"

I don't have the time for this thing again, mother, I need to enjoy my remaining days over here.

"How much do you think this will last for you? When will you stop stalling and start looking after you and your future again, Olga?"

What future do I have, really, are you kidding me?

-Are you talking to yourself, ma'am?

I almost slipped out of the chair. I had never experienced such horror before. I was barely held off the bench to help me  get up again slowly with my heart sinking to my stomach, only to see a little girl with plaited pigtails looking at me half-frightened. She wasn't over nine years old, judging by the face and the childish dress she wore under this puffy purple coat.

-Why are you here? Where are your parents?

-Over here, come and take a look! But mom told me not to talk to strangers!

That of course made zero sense to me. Just like it made zero sense for a child to be left alone in a destroyed supermarket with the sun setting outside. I asked for the girl's name, nothing. I asked again, she hid her puzzled frown behind her pigtails trying to playfully imitate my posture with her hands on my waist.

-I'm Olga, I work here. And you?

She started to say something and suddenly changed her mind, running like hell to the back. I was confused thinking how would I look like to someone who saw me chasing a little girl in there, but then I reminded myself that probably nobody would be left to live to the end of this month, so I wouldn't be considered crazy for too long. I began running under the flickering ceiling lights and with each step I had to swallow my vomit. This little girl felt sorry for me in the end and stopped to wait for me at the end of the far right aisle, leaving one sleeve of her huge coat to stick out on purpose. I approached with an awkward smile and glanced at the strange grace she had on her face, with those weird baby hair that can't be caught for nothing in plaits pointing upwards. Despite my awkwardness, the girl stood unworried and expressionless as if I put her on timeout. I asked her name again. She slips away from a second time and runs like the wind, squealing something at lime while zigzagging the aisles.

-You should probably pick it up!

My phone was stabbing my pocket. It was "Mom" yet again, but I really wasn't in the mood for "Mama". I had to pick up my lungs from the floor at the top of my priorities, because this little devil wasn't running but galloping like a damn horse. I finally caught up with her in the aisle with the products of the day and tightly grabbed her by the shoulders. The little devil screamed and was banging her feet in pain. My hands had been too coarse for people after all this time.

-Hey, ma'am, did you get angry? I was just playing with you.

-I'm don't have time to play right now, please go to your mom.

-But I told you, My mom's right here.

"Where is "here"?

With just one finger sticking out of the sleeve, she pointed to the right middle shelf at the end of the aisle. She put her finger before her mouth to stop me from talking and I followed her on tiptoes. When we approached the end of the aisle and my eyes got used to the darkness I saw a woman laid inside the empty shelf. She was in her sixties and wearing an old black nightgown with holes on it. From her short hair down to her nails, there were ice flakes stuck everywhere as if she was just found buried in the snow. Her face with her eyes closed was carrying such an expression of pain and torment. I was so weirded out that something made me want to follow those ice streams that filled her skin's scratches with my fingers, however her body felt so stiff I jumped back. She looked more like a porcelain doll than an actual person.

-Ma'am Olga? Are you alright?

I threw up all the chocolate milk I drank. My body got the chills and my teeth were trembling so much that my breath was coming out in sharp puffs in front of the flickering lights of the refrigerators. I must have look like shit, because I scared the little girl for good and made her get five steps back from me while I was going crazy and trying to clear my eyes from the shock.

-Why is she here?

-Nobody wanted her. Nobody called to take her.

I didn't pay much attention. I pulled out my cherry ericsson to call for help, but the chaotic hum of the phone lines echoed in the aisle before I even put the phone to my ear.

-Who put her here?

She was just staring at me. I asked again and again. She let her lower lip half open. I grabbed her by the shoulders like before and she pulled out a choked scream due to my clumsiness. She started crying and feeling loose in my hands. It was then that I felt like something broke inside me and I crawled away from her because she would pass out in any second just by looking at the state that I was. I sat on the floor watching her wipe her tears from a distance, all while fixing her plaits and stressfully straightening the dress inside her coat. Every now and then she would throw these incoherent excerpts from conversations that seemed weirdly familiar, waiting for me to remember the answers I had given to each of the discussions. I felt sick, like my insides would explode at any moment. My mind was working overtime and I started seeing red. I understood, but I did not want to accept it.

"But how?" I was saying again and again. I can't just live through this stuff. I was thinking that maybe that's it, we are officially past this tomorrow. Maybe that was the end of the world and the time I had at my disposal. Only instead of cloud islands or pits with flames I was stuck inside this supermarket with a little girl and a dead woman. Was this fitting? Not really. It might be considered symbolic, but still not at all subtle. That's why I was stuffed with anger and distress. I couldn't digest what to feel after all that I saw. And what was the meaning of all of this? To make me feel remorse? To help me maybe? But how? So many questions hanging above my head I began to feel like I was melting from the uncertainty. Luckily, the little girl found some courage to pick me up from the floor.

-You still don't recognize her, do you?

-I recognized her just fine the first time.

-Are you sure, ma'am Olga?

-I don't know, what do you say?

-You tell me.

-We have to get out of here, kiddo. We can't get through it like this. Even now, with everything else going to hell with us.

-Do you really want me to come with you?

-I don't know. Maybe I want to, maybe I should.

The phone started screaming again. It was dimming "Mama" with small flakes of ice filling its broken tiny screen. The girl bent down and put this in my palm with no emotion on her face. I answered it. I waited for an eternity so thin you could fit it inside a moment like this. "Hello? Mom?". Eventually the same confusing static noise creaked from the other side of the call, and I stuck there waiting through the buzzing to find her smoker's coughing that she used to do before starting to complain about how I constantly forget about her. Waiting just to tell her that I was here, I was fine, and the world might not end there. Maybe, somewhere, somehow, there's even some future we can fit in it.

-So are we ready now, ma'am Olga?

-Ready for what?

She pointed at the banner hanging from the ceiling.

-Future ready.

I didn't catch my mother's voice at the other end of the line, of course. I hung up and weakly threw the phone on the shelf where the woman was laying, just to hear its dying snout. This felt way more fitting.

-Nah, not really. But it probably does not matter right now.

-But. I'm scared.

-I'm scared too, being in here and all.

-So when will we be back? When everything was normal again?

-"Normal" may no longer exist. We'll just have to see. For now, get up.

-You know better, ma'am.

-Ma'am my ass.

The little girl glanced just once at the self with the phone on and continue to walk with me, with her palm lost and warmed up somewhere inside my own palm. An analog clock on the wall pointed somewhere after nine o clock and the sky was bruised from the clouds that were pouring snow on everything around us. I put my hand with hers in the pocket of the miserable purple coat and lifted our hoods to escape the cold on the way home. I don't really remember how long we walked with our backs hunched over somewhere between the white and the gray. I only recall that we took the long way home, like a punishment of some sorts.

Thinking that I would never hear again the saltiness in my mom's voice was my most bitter torment. I never thought of such a possibility. I always had in the back of my mind that she would find a way to defy any rule of the universe, just so she could care for me. That's science fiction, after all. It seems I was holding on to my illusions for so long, so waking up hurts like hell even today. And if my mom died, I believe she must've left with that pain and concern during her last moments. "Look at me now", I catch myself saying here and there "I avoided her only until I had to mourn her". Until then, the only thing I had on my mind was working on what I should say when I would get asked about her, only to answer that we "fell off" with no emotion. What exactly happened to fall off with her would be like unnecessary little details. Still, to this day, that's exactly what I tell people when it's being brought up. I can't talk about it without sinking in remorse. I can't get the right words to come out anymore, not even by force.

Of course I tried to find her. Especially with the years that were to come upon me, I needed this to have my mind calibrated just to not go crazy over the batshit hysteria that was building up inside of me. Deep down, though, I knew I didn't have the courage to look at past trauma anymore, and I was secretly hoping I would never fine here. Maybe because the end of the world not coming anymore, at least as I thought it would, and now I have to live with it forever. Maybe because the worst that could have happened to me in the end was the postponement of the apocalypse. And this falls heavily on my shoulders to this day. Every day I have to justify why it was worth it to stay behind, either as punishment or by luck, trying to convince myself that there is something left to do with the leftovers of my future.

[imnotwolverine]

Ready, set, …

Henry Cavill x OC Lisa - multi-chapter fic

Author’s note: Set life has its quirks and challenges. A fluffy, smutty Henry fanfiction to get you through the week. Bedroom fun found at the end. Ps. I should start thinking of a name for this series, any good suggestions?

Word count: 5.832

Disclaimer: smut and fluff

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This is part 3 of the Tea for Two story. 

Find the masterlist here.

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< Back to part 2

An early alarm clock went. 5 am. I heard Henry groan as he rubbed his eyes. ‘Fuck.’ He moped softly, pushing himself off the bed and silencing the alarm. I looked at his naked, muscular, slightly hairy form, grasping for clothes. Kal got up yawning and stretching in turn. The morning ritual. I looked at Henry sleepily. ‘Early shoot?’ I whispered. He rumbled. ‘They changed lines. I forgot that meant an early day.’ He sat on the edge of the bed, wiping some hair from my face. ‘Hello princess.’ He said softly. ‘Well, you go do your Witchy things then. I’ll see you soon.’ I rumbled. He smiled, bending over to kiss me. ‘And we might need some new condoms at your place…just in case.’ He nodded at the dusty pack of condoms that lay discarded on the night stand. I chuckled as he kissed me more deeply. Tongues fighting. He moved on top of me, his weight pressing me down. ‘Mmpff.’ He huffed in frustration. ‘Alright.’ He sighed and nodded while unwillingly getting up. ‘Time to go. Come on Kal. See you dear.’ He blew a kiss and left. Moments later I heard the door closing behind him softly.

The first few days flew by. It was less erratic at work. Much more hectic personally. Somehow press really got air of something happening. We saw tele lenses sticking out of bushes, the odd journalist jumping us when we were drinking tea outside of the warehouses in a short break. ’Mr. Cavill. Who’s this? Are you dating?’ The loud shrieky voice sounded in my neck. I had difficulty not showing utter disgust when a camera was pushed in our faces. ‘Good sir,’ Henry said, getting up, placing his hand on the journalists chest. ‘This is private property. I must ask you to leave and request permission to shoot at the Chamber of MM Media.’ ‘But are you dating?! Mr Cavill?!’ The journalist continued, while one of the security men came strolling in, grasping the man by his shirt and pulling him away. ‘How do you stay so calm?’ I grinned, taking my last sip of tea, watching Henry sitting back down. People around us didn’t even seem very impressed, already having continued with their activities. ‘It gets easier.’ He gave me a sweet smile, which truly was creepy when he was in full costume. ‘What’s the planning for the rest of your week?’ He asked, fetching his phone from his pocket. It was Wednesday. ‘Free Friday afternoon, shopping materials for Poland on Saturday, which we’ll probably discuss on Sunday, then free again on Monday.’ He scrolled through his agenda. I took the hint and grabbed my phone as well, moving it around on the table so he could see my schedule. He grinned, looking up at me. ‘Let me get to the wardrobe department and see if we can get you off the hook on Sunday. I want to take you out for a trip.’ I raised my eyebrow. “CAST CALL, RUN THROUGH IN 5, HALL 2.4..” He looked up, then quickly returned my phone. ‘Would you like that?’ ‘Yea. Sure.’ I said, not quite sure what trip meant in this case. I shrugged as he gave me a quick peck on the lips and rushed off to hall 2.

It sure was magical, how quickly he could fix such things. Within the hour, my manager dropped by to tell me I could take the Sunday off - which usually was out of the question. I looked at her in surprise. She shrugged. ‘Orders from above.’ I squinted my eyes in disbelief. Above? But there we go. It soon was Saturday and I was in the minivan with the department, getting back from a successful shopping trip. Everyone made sure to quickly move all materials to the shipping boxes, ready to go to Poland, snipping off little bits to use for the mood-boards. After that I walked to the hall where they were shooting the last few scenes. I sat down in a director’s chair and sipped on some green tea, looking at the hustle and bustle.

Anya plopped down in the chair next to me. ‘His kisses are different now.’ She said abruptly. I looked up, raising my eyebrows. She smiled an endearing smile, then studied me for a bit. ‘Had a good shoot day?’ I asked. She shrugged. ’Twas okey. Yours?’ ‘Got some pretty materials for your future dresses actually’ ‘Mmm! Cool. Hey, but about those kisses. I think he really, really likes you. He seems different..’ He cocked her pretty head, pouting in thought. ‘Really…’ I smiled, then looked at my cup of tea. ‘So are you joining him to the premiere?’ She asked in girlish curiosity. ‘The premiere? Oh, no. I’ll let you have the honours. Don’t want to have fans going wild over some casual girl on his arm.’ She squinted at me. ‘They first thought I was the worst choice EVER for Yennefer. Now they make fan porn of me. Fans are so weird.’ She shrugged giddily. ‘I’ll let them have the illusion of Hollywood for a moment longer.��� I winked. She laid her hand over mine. ‘He accidentally grunted your name when we shot a make out scene.’ We both snickered. ‘This conversation is so weird.’ I said, laughing at her. She shrugged. ‘Actors life.’

Not much later the last scene was cut and a flurry of set members once again flew out. Anya plopped out her chair, wrapping her arms around a tall man with full sleeve arm tattoos. She kissed him with childish excitement. Without looking back they walked out together, in full conversation. ‘Ready?’ I shot up in shock from his voice. He had sneaked up behind me and was standing there with his coat flung over his shoulder. He had already changed into his regular attire. ‘Ooph.’ I laughed. ‘You are quiet as a mouse.’ I wiggled out of the chair and smiled at him. He pecked me on the lips before holding out his arm, inviting me to take it. We walked out to his car as it was just getting dark. 8.30 pm. ‘Now for our trip. I’m invited by my horse riding trainer to a farm, just squeezing in a few hours in the saddle before Poland. I figured it’d be a nice outing.’ I looked at him. ‘Horse riding?’ ‘Like all fair knights do!’ He grinned. ‘Alright. Fair prince.’ I slithered. ‘Let’s fetch stuff at our houses, walk Kal, then drive there.’ ‘This evening still?’ ‘Yep, might as well get the drive over with. Can you drive?’ ‘Yea, want to switch?’ ‘No no. Just. Curious. Shift?’ ‘Of course. European remember?’ He snickered. ‘Americans ARE lazy.’

We had some quick food, fetched our things, walked Kal, then jumped into the car to drive north. It was deep in the night when we arrived. About 1-ish. And there was nothing around except for this romantically lit farm house with some barns. We jumped out and walked up to the house, some dogs greeting us with loud barks, tails wagging. A man came out in his night shift. ‘Ey ey. Easy boys…. Mr Cavill!’ A gruff, smoke-heavy voice sounded. ‘Mr. Games!’ The men greeted with loud pats on each others backs. ‘And ye brought a sweet thing with you.’ Henry moved aside, smiling at me. ‘Lisa. And careful. She can be feisty.’ Mr Games rumbled a loud laugh and hugged me tight. ’Welcome dear. Ai that wonderful smell about you. Honeysuckle?’ I looked at him in disbelief. ‘Actually yes. I don’t like perfume’s sold on the market so I wear..honeysuckle.’ ‘Such fine smell.’ He folded his arm around my back and guided us to the main house. ‘I got ye a nice little bed made. And ye know where everythin’ is. Make yourself at home. Me wife already hit the hay, so I’ll  join ‘er if ye don’t mind.’ He chuckled with insinuating tone. ‘Of course.’ Henry said, winking. Mr Games prodded him playfully. ‘HA HA HA.’ He laughed a little too loudly, then nodded at me, before holding the door open for me. We walked inside. It was dimly lit. A wooden structured house with heavy beams, the smell of hay and horses protruding from its very core. The furniture was old english style. ‘Yer room is upstairs, hallway, far left. Bathroom right across. Sleep tight good folk.’ He whistled and his dogs eagerly followed him up the stairs, his short stubby legs making the stair steps creak heavily.

Henry yawned. ’Night cap?’ I looked at him. ‘Sure, why not. We’re off for 2 days, gods be blessed!’ I exclaimed. ‘Are you religious by the way? I’ve never asked.’ ‘Nope. You?’ ‘No, raised Christian, but not following.’ He pulled open some cabinets in the kitchen and pulled out two small brandy glasses and a bottle of strong liquor. ‘He makes his own, so, fair warning: it is strong.’ He put the filled glasses on the table. ‘Do you believe in a God?’ I asked. He sat down opposite of me, looking out at the dark fields outside. ‘I think it would be practical if there were a God. But never have I seen or heard him. So no, not a believer.’ We clinked our glasses. ‘And when did you learn to ride horses?’ ‘At my parents actually. We grew up on the Jersey Islands and our neighbours kept two ponies. Darling horses, but also so darn stubborn.’ He grinned. ‘Could you tell me about your sweetest memory of your youth, living there?’ I asked. He rolled around the drink in his glass, thinking. And so we talked for another hour or so. Eventually so tired, all we wanted to do was sleep.

It was around 10 when we woke up. And made love, as morning Henry so enjoys doing. I felt my innards burning from his pounding, laying on my back heaving heavily. ‘Goodness me.’ I laughed as he rolled over and supported his head, letting a finger travel over my body. He was panting slightly. I finally opened my eyes, seeing he was looking a bit pained. I reached out to him. ‘Hi.’ I said. ‘Hey.’ He returned, his eyes twitching between loving and regretful. I looked down at his glorious body, noticing something… missing. ‘C…ondom?’ His face broke in agony, his gaze looking at something on the bed table. ‘It broke.’ ‘Wow..you..’ I got up in shock, looking at rubber, then at him. ‘Do we need to get you a morning after pill?’ He said meekly. ‘Hopefully not, I am pretty steadfast with the pill.’ I looked at him in disbelief. He sighed, ashamed. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I let out a breath I was holding. ‘Oh I’m so glad I use the pill. Please tell me next time. Oh my..this could have gone wrong.’ He sat up, looking apologetically at me. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘It’s okey. I just..didn’t notice.’ I sighed, then looked at him lovingly. ‘It should be alright.’ I continued, cupping his cheek. He smiled weakly, then pulled me close. ‘Ohhh. I’m such a fool!’ He said melodramatically. I snickered as I pulled his heavy body on top of me, hugging intently.  

The day was filled with horses. Saddling horses, walking with horses, riding horses, combing horses, haying horses, moving horses from field to field. Henry clearly got the knack for it, gently and without force leading the horses around. ‘It’s all in the hips and eye contact.’ He said, leading a mare ahead, with a few horses following. It was just the two of us, as Mr. Games was drying off some horses at the stables. The day was running late and food smells were flowing out of the kitchen. ‘Mares love good hips huh?’ I joked, earning a cocky smile from him. ‘Well all joking aside, my hips are …sore.’ I said, somewhat surprised by that. He laughed at me sweetly. ‘Then let us rest.’ He said. ‘I thought you’d never say it.’ I grinned with a mocking tone. He raised an eyebrow at me, smirking.

The days flew by and before we knew it we were driving back to the Hollywood Hills. The return of bright lights, stressed out honking cars and general mess that was the city, I couldn’t help but sigh. I loved my work, my friends, the closeness of everything you need, but there sure were downsides to living in the city. He squeezed my leg while he drove south to drop me off at home. Our goodbye was sweet and relaxed. It had been good to be with each other for longer then just a few minutes. The eraticness was gone and had made place for trust and comfort. We kissed a long while in front of my door, Kal waiting impatiently to go in like he usually would. But this time we really said goodbye at the door. I stood and watched while Henry made his way down the stairs, Kal following with wagging tail. Down the stairs he turned around to look up, waving at me one last time before disappearing. We were getting better at it, I smiled, walking inside of my dark apartment. I didn’t even bother turning on lights, just dropping my stuff, brushing my teeth and heading for bed. It would be another busy week. And, the last week here in the US, which made shooting all the more crazy.

—

I was exhausted by the time it was Saturday. I could sleep anywhere, anytime. And yet I had to pack my stuff for my flight tomorrow evening. It was only now I really started to miss Bib. Usually it would be a whole hustle to get my way too old cat in the plane, having to do all these health checks, her being completely paranoid for the rest of the day. No more of that. I plopped on my bed. It was 11.30pm. I opened my Whatsapp to check on any messages. No message from him yet. I sent him a kissing emoji, followed by a sleeping emoji. ‘Flying tomorrow. When do you get to Poland?’ I fell asleep and only woke up again when the alarm clock buzzed 8 hours later. I groaned. He had responded. ‘Sleep well dear. Probably arrive there on Wednesday evening if all goes well. Wish I could travel with you :) Safe travels and contact me when you arrived!’ Followed by a picture of all his stuff being packed. All the picture frames, dog toys, some workout gear, put into boxes. I snickered. I didn’t bring quite as much with me. Just clothes and a few books. I owned this home and kept all my valuables in a locked closet, then rented out the apartment to colleagues who worked here off and on as well. I had to miss my stuff for these months, but oh well.

We were flying. I was completely dazed, barely striking up conversation with colleagues flying with me. I was too darn tired and all I wanted was that day off after landing. If anything I realised full well I wouldn’t be able to keep up this lifestyle forever. It made good money, which I invested wisely just so in a few years I could settle down and pick a more quiet hobby-that-made-some-money and live off the earnings of my investments. Always better than what most colleagues were doing; blowing through the money like there was no tomorrow. Expensive cars, clothes, going out for dinner every single night and then complaining they couldn’t go to the dry cleaners multiple times a week. Silly folk. I watched a simple romcom, listened to some music, tried to sleep in the rather uncomfortable seat I was situated in (squeezed in between two sizeable ladies who were talking extremely loud and were sweating like whales). I couldn’t describe the happiness when the captain announced we were starting to land.

*Lapalice caste*

It was morning in Poland, the sky and buildings as grey as last we were here. The communist building style really didn’t do any good for this culture. Nevertheless, it was a relief when the crew’s bus arrived and we were transported to the countryside. We were starting the set build at a castle, an artistic 20th century interpretation, absolutely lovely. A small encampment had already been made with running water, hot showers and a large food area. This would do for the next month. Our manager immediately started with nudging us to come up with ideas for the brainstorming session tomorrow, but I, like everyone else, simply ignored her. ‘Tomorrow Lazz. Don’t want to have more of us burned out.’ One of the men said, tapping her on the shoulder. We were escorted to our quarters. Shamefully..it were small bunk beds. I rolled my eyes. Well, no privacy then. Trying to stay awake for a little while longer I walked around a bit and sent a selfie with the set in the background to Henry. ‘Smells medieval to me!’ I added. ‘Gonna switch to European SIM. Add my number: 316123456789.’ Also, being back in Europe, and having switched sim cards, I took the opportunity to give my mother a call. She answered after some waiting. Always a busy woman.

‘Dear! How are you? Oh such things I’ve heard! Are you sleeping well?’ She rattled in dutch. ‘Hi mom. I’m pretty good. Kind of jet-lagging. Just arrived in Poland. So, mostly trying to stay awake now haha. How are you guys?’ ‘So good! Oh, exciting news. We got permission to start rebuilding the back of the house. It’s gonna be so pretty. I’ll send you the drawings.’ ‘Cool! With the wooden porch?’ ‘Yes. Oh it’s going to be lovely. Hey but what did I hear..or read. Are you pregnant?’ ‘What? No mom. Who told you that?’ ‘Oh my sister, you know she loves following your work. She told me you were seen with this actor and he was touching your belly and all.’ ‘If I would be pregnant I’d surely not forget to tell you mom. No. No babies coming. But I am dating, yes.’ ‘Is he good to you? Or is it a she? That’s fine too.’ ‘It’s a guy. Actor yes. And he’s a darling.’ ‘Oh so maybe babies at some point then?’ ‘Mommm.’ ‘What?! I had babies by your age.’ ‘You’re insufferable at times mom. So how are grandma and pa?’ I diverted the conversation. ‘Not great, you should call them. They have moved to a senior house and they absolutely detest it. Poor folk.’ ‘Ay…’ We chatted for a while longer. It was good to speak to her again, her voice rattling happily through the phone. At times it’s hard to remember how important family is, until you reconnect.

I ended the call and saw some more messages coming in from Henry (seen as an unknown number, since I switched SIM card). A whole selfie diary of what he had been doing that day. Working out, walking the dog, some more firewood with a shrugging emoticon (definitely hinting at jerking off) and finally a selfie of him having lunch with some of the cast. I snickered. ‘Busy man! And miss you a lot :) Especially seeing the tiny, tiny bunkbeds they got us xD Goodbye privacy..’ I typed. He responded. ‘We’ll make up for that on Wednesday then.’ Wink. I smiled, then wondered if they had installed the trailers yet for the lead actors. I started strolling around the area, and sure enough the shiny aluminium trailers appeared at the far edge of the campsite.

The next few days was mostly just scouting the area for good shoot locations, collecting material and starting the build of the set for the first week. It was decidedly more relaxed then the previous weeks. To which I was glad. It also did wonders for the team spirit. Many nights we were huddled around campfires, drinking hot wine and making music. It sure felt like a small holiday. And I got to know my colleagues a whole lot better. We worked in a team of 15 for set design. 2 Of them were apparently going to get married in a month’s time, right after our crew was let off, 5 of them had gone to the same college, and most of them were utterly curious about my relationship with Henry. I kept it a bit under the wraps, but spoke honestly about how much fun we had. And how normal it felt. And yes, we were all official. ‘You are..so lucky. Urgh.. Why not me?’ One of my gay colleagues blurted out. We all snickered. ‘It’s the vagina I’d say..otherwise you surely would have had a shot.’ I winked. He warped his mouth in oo-ing shape. ‘Oh Hell! I’d let myself be rebuilt if that means I’d have a shot.’ We all belted out a loud laugh.

Wednesday came. The sun was starting to break through the grey clouds for the first time these days. How suitable, I thought, sipping my morning tea while looking over the hunting grounds that were being prepped for a scouting scene. More bushes, white biodegradable dye after which fake snow would be added. We were sitting around a large wooden board on two scaffolds, serving as huge meeting table. Materials for clothes were splayed out. I wasn’t really paying attention, since this part of the production would be running when I was already off-duty. ‘Hey, whatcha think, light or darker blue for him?’ One of the ladies woke me from my day dreaming. I stood up and looked at the scraps of fabric. ‘Darker. Besides the bias works better on this fabric.’ The lady smiled contently. ‘I told you.’ She said, looking at the other dressmaker who shrugged in slight annoyance. ‘Like she knows anything about cloth making.’ She shot me a dirty look. I shrugged in return, smiling. ‘Who knows!’ Which annoyed her even more. ‘It is indeed a better fabric to cut on bias though.’ The other woman retorted, nodding at me to acknowledge me. After they wrapped up their little meeting, the woman came up to me. ‘You sew?’ I looked up in confusion. ‘A bit. Made some costumes for fun before I got this job actually.’ ‘Good. And you helped buy they fabrics too right?’ ‘I was more a dumb force dragging along fabric rolls, if that counts as helping.’ She smirked. ‘Well silly questions maybe. But..Any chance we can borrow you for a few hours tomorrow and stand in for some fittings. Much better then that Polish girl they found. Can’t speak english, doesn’t understand fit..Urgh. And can’t have Ciri look like a mess.’ I raised my eyebrow, surprised by the request. ‘Uhmm..I’ll have to check my schedule. We’re doing a run-through around 12. And..and I’m not sure we share the same..build…Freya and I’ ‘That’ll be fine. Both small figure. We’ll do a further fit when she arrives - she got delayed…actresses…’ I shrugged, looking at my phone to check my schedule. ‘Alright.’

Not much later the main crew arrived in a large black bus. The first one getting out was Kal, who sprinted out like he hadn’t seen daylight in days. He sniffed and peed everywhere and greeted people with great excitement. The crew gladly petted him and started helping unpacking. Henry and Anya were in conversation when they got off the bus, joking around. Freya indeed wasn’t there. Hmm.. Then Henry noticed me and smiled an even broader smile. He walked up to me, carrying some of his luggage which he dropped to the muddy grass to give me a deep kiss. ‘Hi princess.’ ‘Hey you.’ I said with cheeky smile. He looked up to see what Kal was doing, now playing with one of the camera guys. He sniffled. ‘Good to be here. How are you?’ ‘Good actually. It’s been some lovely relaxed days, just building up, having campfires and the weather’s getting better too. How was your trip?’ ‘Decent. Some turbulence which got the ladies screaming.’ He rolled his eyes with amusement. I snickered. ‘But all went well…’ He fell quiet for a bit and looked at me. And I just returned his quiet stare, smiling. ‘Already found my trailer?’ ‘In the back, far right. A trailer with a view of the lake.’ I winked. ‘Best view in town.’ He smiled in return, folding an arm around me. The very weight making me have to shift my feet in the slippery grass. He stared out over the fields around him, looking at the crew walking around with set pieces, smiling proudly. I just took the moment to wrap my arm around his lower back, leaning into him.

‘Yea let’s get my stuff to the trailer and find something to eat. I’m starving.’ He said, his stomach rumbling. I snickered, diving away from underneath his arm and walking to the bus to grab some of the stuff I knew to be his. We walked up to his trailer, his PA already waiting there to hand him his key and schedule for the first week. ‘Argh..and back to dehydration nightmare again.’ He said, glancing over the schedule. We moved his stuff in, unpacked all his picture frames and put them on top of the floating kitchen cupboards and set up some dog food and water for Kal. He walked back to the door, pulling it closed. I could see his eyes darken with lust while he pinned me against the kitchen block. ‘No bunk bed here.’ He growled. ‘Mmm I have to do a run-through in 10. Later.’ I whispered in between his shower of kisses. ‘Mmpff.’ He cupped my jaw in his large hands. ‘I can’t wait.’ ‘I know.’ I snickered, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before moving to get back outside. He stopped me with one arm, grabbing me around the waist. He bit my neck playfully. ‘Rrr.’ He growled into my ear. I giggled, squirming in his arm. ‘Let me go!’ I puffed, pushing down his arm. He turned me around with great ease and looked at me, this time more sweetly, then smiled sheepishly. ‘Come look for me when you’re done.’ He said. I nodded, then pried myself out of his iron grip and made way for the set.

The camp fires were lit again and dinner was served. With the crew slowly growing in size it became more rowdy. I joined Henry and some stunt men around a fire, huddled against him while forking around in a plate of Chinese food. It was rather bland shamefully. The men were enthusiastically talking through some of the stunt work that had been planned. Burning building jumps, fighting with dogs, monster fights, the whole shebang. Henry was joining in with great excitement. He loved doing as much stunt work on his own as he could. A little boy’s dream of his. His arms flexed while he talked, his eyes gleaming. After dinner however, he soon lost out to his jet lag. He poked me out of my dreaming stare into the fire and whispered. ‘Join me?’ I nodded and smiled a tired smile. Without further ado we excused ourselves, I brushed my teeth and went to his trailer, Kal already sleeping on the floor, only his ears twirling up in curiosity.

Just moments after he turned the lock on the door I could feel his hands roam over my body. He pulled me flush against his chest, my back towards him as he sniffed my hair. ‘I missed this smell of you.’ He rumbled, lust trailing his voice. I sniffled, turning my head slightly so I could kiss him. ‘I’ve missed YOU.’ I whispered against his lips, a smile on my lips. His arms folded around me, squeezing me even closer as his head dipped down, his lips blazing a trail on my neck. ‘Very funny..Now..I would like to be patient, but…’ He swirled me around with a force I had not experienced of him yet. I barely had time to register what was happening when he swooped me up in his arms, needing just a few long strides to lay me on the bed at the back of the trailer. He quickly stripped off his clothes as I stared at him, my dazed head needing a good moment to take in what was happening while my gaze fell on his rushed striptease. I didn’t even think about undressing myself. He took my breath away as he had done a dozen times by now. That hair tumbling in unruly curls around his face, his flexing muscles, the slight smirk on his lips and that godly chest hair. By the time he looped his thumbs around the waistband of his boxers, he raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Undress.’ He simply commanded, his voice dark. I obliged gingerly, quickly wriggling myself out of my comfy outfit as I laughed at his impatience.

I was just about to unclasp my bra when he pushed me down on the bed, crawling on top of me. I gasped as one of his hands slipped around my throat (even though he was careful) and I immediately halted any further attempts to remove my underwear as his heavy body pushed me down, his lips meeting mine. Eager hands slipped down my panties, feeling how wet I already was for him. He rumbled a low chuckle as he reached his arm out towards a small drawer next to the bed, his eyes not leaving mine. I raised an eyebrow as he rumaged around in the drawer, finding what he was looking for: a condom. He kept his eyes trained on me as he ripped the packaging with his teeth, not looking away once. I felt myself get wetter by the second as I looked in his lust-laced eyes, hearing  his ragged breath. He pumped his erection a few times before putting the condom on, his eyes finally trailing away. He looked down at his erection, now eagerly pressing against my hip. And he sure liked what he saw, because when he looked back up there was that all-familiar question in his eyes. I took a shallow breath, which was apparently enough of an answer as he pressed his lips against me more feverishly.

He was..impatient..to say the least. His lips bruised mine deliciously, making me moan and groan in response while his right hand moved aside my panties. He guided his erection to my folds, rubbing it generously against my core - earning another longing moan from me. Then he got up a bit, making eye contact once more. DO IT - I thought, but he waited, just tilting his head slightly. And so I wrapped my legs around his hip, pulling him inside of me. We both gasped, savouring the feeling of becoming one. He slumped forward a bit, leaning heavily on his arms as his head dunked down to bite the soft skin of my neck. Without breaking contact, he slowly pumped out, before pushing all the way back in. I groaned. He was so big. And hard. I scratched at his back as he started to slowly up his pace. ‘That smell.’ He rumbled, lowering it to a tone that sounded more like Geralt then Henry. I groaned and moaned as he started a frantic speed. ‘Oh gods.’ I moaned as his lips attacked my neck, jawline, cheek, forehead, eyelids. He did not leave one bit of skin untouched.

I felt he was getting closer to his release and tried to pry one of my hands in between us, to stimulate myself. He groaned, realising he had neglected my needs. I opened my eyes, seeing he gave me a pleading look before he pulled my arm away, pushing me over on my belly before pulling my hip up. My head still pressed to the mattress and my butt in the air, I felt a bit vulnerable. I tried to turn my head to see him, but he pushed my shoulder down. ‘Like that.’ He said darkly, and before I could protest he pushed back inside of me again. I groaned. He could reach even deeper in this position, hitting my cervix in a way I wasn’t sure I was enjoying fully. I wanted to sit up, change the position, but his strong arm kept pushing me down. He started to push into me again, something I wasn’t so very much enjoying. ‘Babe..’ I gasped, my voice laced with pain. He folded over me, pausing his thrusting as he finally touched my bud. I could feel his lips on the skin of my naked back. ‘That better?’ He asked, a touch concerned. I immediately felt that all familiar electricity coil up inside. I gasped again. He bent over further, involuntarily moving inside of me. I squealed it out as he hit an unfamiliar place inside of me, an orgasm bursting through me making my whole body shake. Was that my g-spot? I thought after some seconds. I had even forgotten about Henry’s heavy body pushing into me, only realising he was asking me if I was okay when the haze lifted. ‘Baby? Hey?’ He was holding himself still, his lips next to me ear. I finally managed to turn my head towards his face, a smile on my lips. ‘That was..’ I started..but couldn’t finish. I burst out into laughter. He nuzzled my cheek, finally understanding. A husky laugh rumbled through his chest. ‘Are you okay?’ He finally asked, his face more serious now. I nodded, closing my eyes and wiggling my hips, immediately feeling his erection hard inside me.

Staying folded over me like he was shielding me from the world, he started pulling and pushing into me. Again and again..and again. And boy. Did it feel good this time. His hand once more circled my nub while he played around with the angles of his thrusts. The higher he moved up my body, the more frantic were my shivers. I wasn’t even sure if it was just one very long second orgasm bursting through, or several. Not that I could even care anymore. I groaned, moaned and shivered while he pushed into me, his orgasm finally taking him over the edge as well. He groaned as his seed spilled inside of me, releasing the hand from my nub to steady himself. He took a few deep breaths, stilling himself, before gently pulling out. I flopped down on my belly, still shivering, while he rolled on his side. Our eyes met, a smirk on his lips. ‘I’ll remember that.’ He finally said as his hand travelled over my slightly shivering body. I sniffled, moving closer to kiss him. ‘Hi.’ I smiled, still dazed from my orgasms. ‘Hi.’ He responded, smiling a broad smile, pulling me even closer, folding his arms protectively around me. He nuzzled me, taking a calm breath. ‘How I missed you.’ I nodded in agreement, too spent to talk and instead just enjoying laying there in his arms until sleep overtook me. I had missed this indeed.

---

Part 4 >

[yerlinmedia]

Blog Post 2

When it comes to the movie Black Swan and American Psycho, Mental illness is a very prevalent theme in both films. Both movies give great insight towards how mental illness can suddenly creep up on you leaving you engulfed with emotions. One note that stands out for both movies is how the main characters don’t even realize they have a problem. Dealing with depression and anxiety myself, It took a very long time before I started to notice that I had an issue and an even longer time to try and reach out to someone for help. Now that may be clear for most people however the endings for these movies may be confusing so I will break the symbolism that I got from these movies.

In Black Swan has a theme of setting problems aside. Nina throws any issue aside and just lets it build up. Nina’s Anxiety is symbolized by the black swan. Anytime she starts going through waves of anxiety she imagines herself turning into this black swan. She starts getting goosebumps and black feathers eventually as her anxiety worsens. When the feathers start emerging from Nina’s skin her immediate reaction is to start plucking. In the real world birds that are locked in cages with no stimulation have a habit of plucking feathers from stress or boredom. Therefore the plucking scene shows that audience that Nina is self harming when she gets these panic attacks.  

Nina has a habit of pushing her problems aside and this is affecting her mental state. For example her boss keeps sexually assaulting her. Yet she allows it to happen over and over for her to get the lead role. While rehearsing for the performance Nina sprains her ankle and cracks her toe nail yet pushes aside the pain and continues. These are things that build up over time and attribute to Nina’s increased anxiety toward performing the lead role. Nina lacks self confidence and this can be seen when she attempts to self pleasure herself yet is unable to.

Now what does the ending mean? Before analyzing the ending of we need to look back at the events that lead to it. In the first act Nina accidentally falls on stage leading her to panic to her stage room once the scene is finally over. Over there she sees Odile Dressed up as the black swan offering to take Nina’s position. In a fit of panic Nina kills Odile and becomes the black swan. She returns to the stage with what seems like confidence as she grows feathers and even kisses her boss in front of everyone. What seems like an amazing stroke of self improvement. However Nina actually finally gave in to her mental illness. She is absolutely swarmed with terror in this scene yet Nina continues to push her emotions aside and keeps a blank face. Nina has been completely enveloped by her anxiety. She doesn’t come to realize that she has given in until she returns to her room to see Odile isn’t there. Odile is not the source of her illness, Nina herself is where all the problems lay and that is why she stabs herself. In the final moments of the last act Nina dies however she is happy. It may be confusing if this is a happy ending or not but this because there are two perspectives being shown. Nina sees herself being free of the torment of her illness, Yet everyone else is panicking because she is dying. This is a reflection of how mental illness can lead to suicide. Nina believes that this will bring an end to her torment; she sees this as something positive. However she is surrounded by friends, family and an audience that care about her well being. It isn’t until it’s too late for her to get help because Nina refused to reach out to anyone. At times suicide might seem like the only answer however we are surround by people who can help us. This is the message the director is trying to give. 

American Psycho is another movie with a bit of a confusing ending. The audience is left unclear on if Patrick is an actual psychopathic killer or if everything is all in his head. This is that actual struggle for those with schizophrenia. They often have hallucinations and struggle to tell what is real and what is made up. So the ambiguous ending reflects this. I really enjoyed American Psycho because it makes you want to watch the movie a second time to figure out what was real and what was an illusion. I have theorized that Patrick only thought himself to be a killer. Anytime he kills someone he is only fantasizing about killing. Patrick has obsessive personality disorder is the type to easily get made. The scene when Jules puts the spoon in the spoon on the table instead of the ice cream container really shows how easily Patrick can snap. The only change I would make in the ending of the movie is the scene when Jean finds Patrick’s journal. I would have added more scenes to show Patrick has a mental issue. For example, instead of just finding a journal, Jean also finds medication such as thorazine or prolixin. I would also bring back Paul Allen just to really confuse the audience. However overall this movie was insightful and yet entertaining. I am left wanting a true sequel to Patrick Bateman’s story. Unfortunately neither Black Swan or American Psycho. Although yes there is an American Psycho 2. I refuse to believe that movie is a true squeal, it was just slapped with that name just to bring an audience. I would definitely recommend these movies however I'd suggest also doing background research on mental illness prior to watching. I believe that would further help the viewer fully grasp the meaning behind either movie.

[silverypurple-rosedlions]

I love the Chapter Unlocks and reading Seokmin's Chapter- Chapter Two? OFBEJFH I cried- But these are incredible! How did you come up with the three known/unlocked Chapters? (Jeonghan's Chapter One, and Seokmin's Chapter One and Two)

Admin Moon: Ah, this is an interesting question! Buckle up everyone, because this might be a long one, haha . . . Like, a reaaally long one.

Countless things inspired me to make everyone's chapters: music, research I've gone through related to mental illnesses and physical illnesses, little scenarios I've dealt with in real life, scenes, movies, and fanfictions, and the list goes on. Sometimes, images and gifs help me, allowing me to paint the main picture of each chapter that correlates to the member. Let's use Seokmin's Chapter Unlock, Chapter Two - Intoxicated, as an example.

With Seokmin's Chapter originally, I had no plan for him to be involved with drugs. That would apply to one member and one member only. The original idea for him involved a breaking point he would need to face, forcefully, seen within the chapter where Seokmin would lose control and attack viciously, to defend himself. But what would trigger him wasn't drugs. Instead, it was going to be a moment in his life when it was his family that triggered it. Fortunately, and I mean it, it was scratched off, and I revised the entire chapter, changing it to what is known now.

It converts to drugs because it's inspired by Billie Eilish's song, Xanny. It's referenced when Seokmin says that "Xanny" was used as another name for the drug, Xanax. If you listen to the song, certain lines within it are in the chapter. The chorus in Xanny is:

"I'm in their secondhand smoke, Still just drinking canned Coke, I don't need a Xanny to feel better, On designated drives home, Only one who's not stoned, Don't give me a Xanny, now or ever,"

Immediately, you can look back and see that this was portrayed in his chapter. Seokmin was around people smoking, taking drugs, and drinking while he's there, "sitting just drinking canned coke." Then in the chapter, Seokmin wants to go home and requests Mimi to take him home, a person "designated" to bring them home as she is the only one among the two with a driver's license. And of course, Seokmin is the "only one who's not stoned," and refuses to take a Xanny, saying that he doesn't want it and never will. This lyric is obvious, "Don't give me a Xanny, now or ever."

Just like in Seokmin's Chapter, a section in his life where he refuses taking drugs and alcohol, Billie Eilish's song also talks about refusing Xanax and telling people to avoid drugs. Period.

Now, not everything from the song is the same, word for word, within his chapter, such as the lyric mentioning kissing. That's not in his chapter, nor is it mentioned when he blacks out, attacking viciously (this is towards one specific friend of mine who misunderstood-).

Another good example is the first verse of Xanny:

"What is it about them? I must be missing something, They just keep doing nothing, Too intoxicated to be scared, Better off without them, They're nothing but unstable, Bring ashtrays to the table, And that's about the only thing they share,"

In Seokmin's Chapter, although it's not a long part, he questions why is it fun and games to them and so on, "What is it about them? I must be missing something." He goes on to explain why they're taking this, which is depression and anxiety, leading them to be "too intoxicated to be scared," and then wants nothing to do with them, "Better off without them, they're nothing but unstable," And of course, when Mimi is sharing a cigarette. It's clear, "Bring ashtrays to the table, and that's about the only thing they share,"

Not only this, but I wanted Seokmin to have this different and darker backstory that contrasts with his bright and energetic personality. It is a little of a cliche, to be honest. However, I wanted his backstory to be the reason why he's the way he is now, just like any of the bots I have. I want his backstory to be the reason he wants to be a bright and chirpy person, someone who likes to portray a happy but unsettling aura. Aside from three, perhaps more, bots, Seokmin is a very complex person. He likes to surprise people, keeping his deepest mysteries and thoughts to himself but is willing to expose them if asked to, or he wants to on the spot. He will play the part of being innocent and naive, he'll be reckless and excessive, and just about anything as long as it throws people off of who he is, using that to his advantage.

Now, Jeonghan's a challenge to explain since there's only one Chapter Unlock so far. And if I am not too careful, I may accidentally give hints of what his chapters will possibly be. However, Jeonghan is the MOST complicated here, and that may just be my opinion. But when going through his entire story, he was beyond difficult. Various research and videos watched, I had to study body movements, reactions, and so on that would fit for him, and even had assistance from a small group of friends. There are about a million things that inspired this backstory for him and how he is now.

For example, let's dive into Jeonghan's Chapter Unlock. It's shorter compared to Seokmin's, but that's on purpose. I usually like to make them reasonably lengthy, being able to give the reader themselves more of an experience that this person is facing. But for this, because Jeonghan has a different spectrum, I had to limit myself.

When reading his Chapter Unlock, he's allowing you to enter into this world he sees in his head. You, the reader, are presented this image of his mind, this "labyrinth," he's in and always has been. It's excruciatingly long and deceitful, the exit is nowhere to be seen, the stairs spiral from one space to another, and he's the target for this big, looming door of what is his insanity. The rose door is what opens him to a new headspace, throwing away the morals he knew, and creates an entirely new person who casts a shadow to his younger self that was too damaged to continue. When opening this door, this is the exit. It's an exit from the person he used to be and builds himself anew with shattered pieces of who he was, forging someone deadly.

For now, let's focus on this: Labyrinth. Surprisingly, there is no other thing that inspired this idea but three main things. One is the vast majority of songs. It is insane how many songs I have listened to that were included for him, and not just this one chapter, but for him in general. For this chapter, it's scattered pieces of songs: Psycho by Byun Baekhyun, Twisted by MISSIO, I'm Gonna Show You Crazy by Bebe Rexha, Angry Too by Lola Blanc, Hey Little Girl by Sophiemarie.b, and small traces of Broken by Lund. If you look at each song, you may be able to find similarities that correlate to them, but not entirely. Second, the idea of this labyrinth was inspired by, dare I say, Labyrinth and Pan's Labyrinth.

NOW HOLD ON!

I know that's the craziest thing I would get that idea from those two movies. Now, I didn't watch Pan's Labyrinth till late this 2020, but it was just one word, and I swear to God it is. "Labyrinth." That's it. I know it's ridiculous, but I'm dead serious that I thought of creating a labyrinth from the title name. Then there's the movie, Labyrinth, made in 1986. I watched that when I was little, maybe seven years ago, and I was always fascinated with the scene where the girl, Sarah, is in this labyrinth to save her baby brother. Sarah is in this bizarre area, face to face with the Goblin King, running in all directions with stairs everywhere. She runs, and she's suddenly upside down, she continues, and suddenly she's on the right side of the wall, so on so on. The stairs are placed upside down, and so on. It was that illusion that I thought I should add within his mind that's a complicated maze, containing fragments of memories and delusions created from stress.

Lastly, the third is me. I'll admit right now that Jeonghan was originally an outlet for me, someone I related to personality-wise, and then took it from there. This labyrinth idea is also a replication of my headspace before I got better (Quick heads-up: This entire idea for them was made a year ago, back in late October or so). I used what I saw of my headspace, changed it, altering it to what would become Jeonghan's headspace, but bigger and more complex than mine.

With all of this, images such as places, the people themselves, and other such things are what drives this. Aside from me as a writer, a person who absolutely loves writing, without these things, this wouldn't exist.

Admin Moon: So, I hope this answers your question, anon!

🥀// @yourlocal-babybear @aikihades @sophie-svt-13 @waitingwhispers60 @seventeen-chatbot @kpop-shelter @yangomangos @m00n-nim96 @ghoulxbaekhyun @moonlit-jaemin @empress-jiaqi @time-for-confession @xash-axx @fnafnctdream-chatbot @split-jiu @artsydahyun @softdommechungha @princess-yeji @werewolf-sehun @julia-oc [DM for +/-]

[lorei-writes]

Witch!MC headcanons - further addition

Hello friends!  It seems I’ll be turning those into a series! I’ll try to cover all the warlords available in the English version of the game (and for that reason, I’ll probably start Yukimura’s route next; 1st Part of Mitsunari’s character analysis will come soon! I know, I haven’t written many analysis post, but there’s still plenty of data I need to both gather and consume before I can write anything reasonable. I am not abandoning this idea, though).  However, if you want to see somebody covered - let me know! In any way - even smoke signal are fine, haha. I’m always delighted to hear from you and it may influence the order in which I’ll write those - so, if you haven’t already, but are tempted to, you can even drop me anonymous ask. Or tell me not to publish it. Everything goes! 

That being said, the headcanons allow me only to disclose so much detail. I have to omit some parts. So, if you are curious, read under the cut:

Behind the scenes: Witch!MC - Masamune & Nobunaga

Okay, for starters, let’s establish some things: I am very passionate about fantasy and world building in general. Writing a witch character is a magnificent idea to play around with the idea of magic systems - both hard and soft ones. And I think the contrast between MCs in the headcanons shows quite a lot!

Usually when creating a character with a magic present in the universe, I like to first work on the rules that govern the world.  In case of Masamune’s MC, those are: 

The witches do not posses the power of their own. 

Their magic is simply the courtesy of spirits.

Everything that is alive or exists has a spirit.

The witches posses the ability to hear the spirits. It is said that the spirits whisper. 

Since witches are the only ones able to communicate with those beings, they can ask them for favors. 

Okay, so why was MC able to open up a portal? It was not her power.

Exactly! It was not hers. The spirits lent her the power when the soldiers decided to burn the forest and kill all the creatures inhabiting it. The phase: “ as long as the whispers coursed through her “ is not accidental - whatever they did to give her those extra abilities, it was basically like transferring a part of themselves. She was not trained in using them, she didn’t know how to - they could have given her the guidance in regards to protecting the forest, but other than that? Opening up the portal was basically like fight or flight response, it was an instinct. 

Why didn’t she just give those parts back?

I do not know.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I didn’t have a chance to explore that in the headcanons. After all, it’s a rather brief form. Maybe it couldn’t be given back, maybe those parts got contaminated - who knows! 

Okay, the cursed kisses part doesn’t make any sense now.

I do not agree. MC doesn’t know how to control those parts. She lacks any information on them - she cannot hold them in. If a kiss is a way for the whispers to travel to somebody else, the death is the “ripping apart” part from “ The magic required a balance to be established, or else it would rip the user to shreds”. MC doesn’t know how to put balance in place, ergo, her kisses kill. Maybe she even lacks power to establish one in the first place - that’s up to discussion. 

The way the curse was uplifted is cheesy and doesn’t make much sense.

Whether it’s cheesy or not is up to discussion. But, again, it still works within the framework I’ve put up. Even if taken very metaphorically, whispers are still words, words that need to be said and can be silenced. In other words: Yes. It was a play on words. Yes. I used the fact that in the game, it was stated that Masamune is a damn good kisser. Yes. Her mind went blank - and so happened to the foreign parts.  In other words, that idiot didn’t die only because he knows how to kiss a girl to make her speechless. Is it cheesy? Dunno, but it was sweet in my head ^^

I don’t know if you see it now, but if it was a full story, it would be clearly governed by those rules. Actually, even here, it kinda does, even if it’s harder to notice. I would say that this sort of magic system is closer to being a hard one than a soft one - the hard magic systems operate within a framework of rules, which soft ones lack (or the rules aren’t always applied, sometimes without a clear reason). It doesn’t meant that it’s necessarily a better system, btw. 

Oh, and why did Masamune kiss MC in the first place?

He thought he might die of infection and didn’t want to regret never kissing her. Accidental save! 

Now, to Nobunaga’s MC. 

In contrast to Masamune’s MC, she has not acquired any real training, the knowledge was passed to her by accident. What do we know about her powers?

Well, she certainly can create illusions and govern the winds, she could control her palace, she can kill, but frankly - we do not know what exactly she can do. We don’t even know how much of her doing something is just a conjured image. Are there any rules limiting her power? Is there a boundary even she can’t cross? We do not know.

The only thing we are given is that she “ can grant one of your wishes, yet only the true one”. She can’t do that to herself (” Had I not been a mere tool, I’d crumble this universe to pieces”). That’s it. Period. 

You can see the difference between her and Masamune’s MC, right? This magic system is way softer.

And that’s fine! It serves a different purpose. We aren’t supposed to know! 

Masamune and MC’s story is of breaking the curse. Nobunaga and MC’s is one of breaking her defenses. The magic serves a purpose in creating her persona.

Who is Nobunaga’s MC?

She is a woman that faced abuse and has seen her friend suffer greatly for just supporting her. She wasn’t trained in magic. In contrast to Masamune’s MC, she wasn’t one of the other witches - she gained the knowledge by accident. Nobody taught her, she had no community. The only thing she did have was a goal, which she tried to achieve. We do not know how much of her powers beyond that one wish were actual powers - everything could have very well been an illusion. We are not supposed to know that.

I don’t like that MC. She’s nothing like the one in the game.

I mean, it’s fine. I wanted them to butt heads, to be strong willed and suited to rule. 

How the hell did she win against Nobunaga if not thanks to her magic?

Ha! That’s actually really interesting, because in this part, the line between magic, her intelligence and manipulation is blurred. She did win three times, yet if it was for magic and reading his mind, why did she loose the fourth time? 

“ There’s no use in continuing this. I already know what you will do. I’ve seen plenty men of your caliber throughout the years. You are all the same: think of power and nothing else.”  - she never said she saw his thoughts. Whatever she did - we do not know for certain. 

Why couldn’t he have approached her in Azuchi in different way?

Ha! That part is actually interesting. I know, those are just short headcanons, but they constantly try to outsmart each other - MC wins the game, but saves her favors in case she looses, Nobunaga demands her to come to Azuchi, she uses what she had already won against him, he grants her wishes in a way that suits him as well. 

Giving her a garden was not a courtesy - it was a strategic move! I don’t know if you see it, but if MC was a castle, then what Nobunaga did was a siege. Again, word play: to see somebody - she used it as in to meet somebody, he - the literal meaning.  I really like this part. Frankly, if I were more skilled, that could potentially turn into a really nice fic. 

And that’s all from my side! I hope you don’t hate my blabbing, I may write something similar for other MCs once I finish the headcanons! :) 

[piracytheorist]

The Dreams that Won't Come True (1/1)

Summary: Killian and Alice find a way to be together through their dreams... but it doesn't end up being what they expected.

Word count: ~2.1k AO3

~

"So, if I wear this talisman at the same time Alice wears hers..."

"Your dreams will be connected. And you'll both be in complete control of them, and the magic rules of your poisoned heart won't apply there."

~

He can't wait for the night to fall. Regina should have waited to give him the talisman later that day, he thinks. Though he is extremely grateful... it may not be a real cure, but it will allow father and daughter to reunite, at least in a way. And after all this time of separation, even that way is enough.

Night falls, and he goes to bed nearly shaking. He wonders if Alice is already asleep and waiting for him in her dream world. He wonders how many nights she'd spent in the tower, not being able to sleep because she hoped he would come back, fully cured and with a way for her to escape. Tears threaten to fill his eyes, but he closes them, focusing on how it will all be different now.

He barely understands when things change. When his bedroom turns into a campfire site, the smell of something sweet entering his nostrils, and the darkness dissipates with the light of a small fire, light that falls on his daughter's smile, which widens as she sees him.

"Hi, papa."

He expects to cry, as they both stand up and run to each other. She's so much bigger now, she fits differently in his arms... but she's there. She squeezes him, her laughs muffled as she buries her face in his shoulder, and he laughs too, but no tears come.

He doesn't pay it much attention. The dream lasts long enough for them to do everything they want; or, almost.

They go sailing. They go far back in his memories, and he has her meet his Mama and Liam. She shows him places she travelled to. They cook, and they sing, and they play.

And for one moment, he wishes she'd turn herself into a child, so he could play with her again the way they used to. Let herself grow in the dream, so he can watch her grow.

In the middle of them building sandcastles on a beach, she starts disappearing, becoming less and less visible. He panics.

"Starfish?" he says with wide eyes.

"It's all right, papa." She smiles. "I'm waking up. I'll see you next time."

And then she's gone.

He doesn't expect the burst of sobs and tears on his account when he wakes up. By all means, he had the most wonderful dream he'd had in all of his centuries. But still, he stays curled up in his bed, shaking from the shock of... "losing" her. He knows she's fine, she woke up happy in her bed, in her cabin, but the sight of her disappearing was too much for him, after their perfect moments in their dream.

He can't stop himself from running up, hastily dressing himself and taking a horse to her cabin. He needs to see her.

She's sitting on the porch, having tea with Robin. She jumps up when she sees him, starts running to him. As does he.

It's only a worried "Alice!" from Robin that makes both of them stop, realizing what they were about to do.

Suddenly, the talisman feels heavy around his neck. It's the only thing that connected them. It wasn't real.

It wasn't real.

He swallows the sob that threatens to come out. "Good morning, Starfish."

She smiles, though he can see the sadness in her eyes. "Morning, papa."

"It was a beautiful dream."

"Yeah." She sniffles, and his chest constricts. "It was. We'll do it again? Tonight?"

"As you wish."

There's nothing really more to tell; they said so much in their dream, anyway. And she needs time with Robin, to probably share her beautiful memories of it... and so can he.

Henry and Regina listen patiently as he shares everything from their shared dream. They smile at his excitement, how he describes everything like it really happened, though it didn't.

It didn't really happen.

He knows it's a bugging, insisting voice. But no matter. He can build enough memories with his Starfish in their dreams to silence it and make up for the lost time.

A week goes by, and just as Killian thinks they've exhausted all possible adventures they can go on, new and exciting scenarios are making themselves real through his daughter's wild, free imagination.

They're playing a game of chess. Alice is sitting upside down, her hair falling under her as she munches on some chocolate. Killian is sitting cross-legged across from her, toying with both of his hands as he contemplates his next move. And suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, Alice disappears completely.

"Alice!" he shouts, standing up and accidentally throwing the chess board over. But their lost game is of little importance. "Alice?! Where are you?!"

It feels like an eternity passes, and no sight of his daughter. The scene changes; the fire in the fireplace goes out, rain hammers the roof, the soft carpet under him disappears as he sits down on the hard, cold stone floor, holding his now bleeding arm against his chest. It's dark, and he's alone. He opens his mouth, trying to call for Alice again, but no sound comes out. He tries to scream, and it feels like the scream itself lodges in his throat, choking him.

Then a voice.

"Papa?"

He looks up, and it's like invisible hands hold him back as he tries to stand up and hug his daughter. She's faster than him, holding him and dragging him up with her.

"Alice..." he says, trembling.

"I'm here. A thunder rumbled very close to my cabin and woke me up. I'm here now."

To him, it's as if she didn't say anything. "Where did you go?"

"I told you, I- I woke up. Papa? Are you alright?"

It's all coming back; his hand is shaking, his stomach is turning, and his lips beg for another shot of rum. She's there, she's holding him, but he can't feel the touch, the warmth... the joy he'd expected.

He can't place what's going on; he's so confused, and the scream in his throat feels like a hard-swallowed bite that he can’t spit out... until Alice takes a step back. He looks at her as she hesitates, raises her arm, hesitates again, then finally slaps his cheek.

"Wake up!" she says. She grabs his shoulders and starts shaking him. "You have to wake up! Please, papa, wake up!"

He opens his eyes, disoriented by the sudden darkness. He's lying down on a bed... his bed. His room. In Queen Tiana's castle.

He breathes out shakily. It was a dream. No, it was a nightmare. He closes his fist on the talisman around his neck. Wasn't it supposed to help him control his dreams?

Too disturbed to sleep again, and hoping Alice won't wait for him in her dream, he lies awake. His hand, thankfully, isn't shaking, so he starts sketching random landscapes from memory on pieces of parchment to forget the feeling of craving a drink that his nightmare reminded him of. When the sun rises a couple of hours later, he goes to find Regina and ask her what went wrong.

"Your dream turned into a nightmare?"

"Alice woke up from a thunder, and she disappeared from my dream. It all changed then, and even after she came back, I couldn't control the dream to change into a good one. I could barely feel Alice's presence there."

"Were you conscious it was a dream?"

"What do you mean?"

She bites her lip, thinking. "Were you scared when Alice disappeared?"

"Of course I was! We were just sitting there and playing chess, and I suddenly saw my daughter disappear! What else could I have thought?"

"That you were in a dream and she was waking up."

Regina's words shake him. He had, indeed, forgotten about them having been in a dream at the time.

"You have to be conscious it's a dream, and not real, in order to be able to control it. I guess seeing her poof away scared you so much that it felt real, you lost control and lucidity in the dream, and your subconscious took over."

"So I- I just have to remember it's a dream? And things will be alright?"

Regina tries to smile, but he can see the sadness in it. "You have to remember it's not real. If you forget that, you may lose control again."

He takes a stroll to the nearby port a bit later, walking along the docks, needing to think.

He doesn't want to think of those adventures as not real. They both live them, and they do so together. They deserve it... at least Alice does. But it's harder than he thought.

If he thinks of those dreams as a reality, he'll lose control of them, giving his perpetual nightmares a way to ruin his only way of being with his daughter. And if he thinks of them as an illusion... what's the point in having them?

A dark thought hits him when he gets ready for bed that night; he can't remember some of the adventures they went on. Like any other dream, the memories dissolved, too weak and thin and unreal to stay.

He still wears the talisman that night, and a part of him is saddened to see Alice join him.

As if she's reading his mind, she makes their adventures much more timid; they go for a walk across a shore, they have a simple meal on a meadow, they play chess, they look at the stars. He hugs her and kisses her forehead and sings her to sleep. He doesn't have his other hand now.

The dream goes by smoothly, but he's not surprised to wake up crying the next morning.

It is not real. He didn't taste the teas of Wonderland with her, she didn't navigate by the stars with him... and she never met her grandmother and uncle. It wasn't the real them, only what he knew and remembered of them. And they never met her.

And even if they reconstruct a family dinner in their dreams, with Robin and Zelena and whomever else... the others will never remember it. And as much time as he wishes he could spend with her, it's only so much of her life Alice can devote to the dreams with her father.

He holds the talisman in his hand, contemplating how promising its magic was, only to prove it can't cover up for what they've lost.

He walks to Alice's cabin that evening, knowing and fearing at the same time that Alice will agree with his proposition to never use the talisman again.

"It's not real, Starfish. Using it can only remind us of what we can't have in real life." He doesn't have the heart to tell her how he almost fell into drinking again because of how hard that reminder hit.

She nods solemnly. "And forgetting that can lead to nightmares."

His heart breaks at her tone, at the way sadness hunches her shoulders forward. If only he could hold her, comfort her... "We can't use it again. Even once can make it addictive, and... it's hard to break off from something like that." He'd know.

"Just... one last time? Just to have enough time to... to say goodbye on our own terms."

One last time to hold her, to give her the feeling of having a father at her side and let that go peacefully.

It's only during that last dream that he realizes he hasn't cried in those dreams, from any emotion. All through those years, even when he'd lost hope, he had imagined breaking down and crying once he had the chance to hold his Starfish again, and how wouldn't he?

It only drives home harder how it's not real, it's not even the real him.

Still, he holds her close, they go sailing on the Jolly Roger, and she sleeps on his lap, as he sings his mother's lullaby, with the light of the stars and a full moon shining on them.

He looks at her as she faints slowly, wakefulness dragging her away, and it's like a part of his own heart is violently ripped off.

Too consumed in his sorrow, he lets the dream take over. The bright moon disappears and furious waves rip the Roger to pieces as Liam walks towards him and buries his cutlass in Killian's chest.

"How would you deserve a family?" Liam says. "You couldn't even protect what little you had. And for that, your own daughter suffers."

He doesn't even react when he feels a sea monster's tentacles pull him under. The water falls heavy on him, he can see the surface grow dimmer and dimmer.

It's only his eyes and cheeks that feel wet with tears as he wakes up.

[joonyverse]

The President - Baekhyun (EXO) (Part 6)

A/N: Hello! I’m back again with the 6th part of the series! Honestly, I had fun writing this part, and I hope you could enjoy this part as well? This part included a little disturbing scene (stated in warning) and I hope you guys don’t mind? ;-; anyway just like always! i hope you enjoy this part as well!

IM PREVIOUSLY SUPREXOMACIST

Summary: Being the youngest Minister is not easy, especially when it seems like the whole world is trying to go against you. Proving yourself is proven to be a difficult thing. But things had to get even more tangled when dark pasts are coming out, and truths are being unveiled

Genre: Drama, romance, fluff, angst

Warning: Age-gap (10 years), some curses, a little disturbing scene (Stalker & kidnap kind), bad english, grammar error, unedited

notes: yln = your last name, yfn = your full name

masterlist

Byun Baekhyun x Female Readers

If you’re uncomfortable with age-gap relationship, please just scroll through it

You can feel sweat trickling down your body, almost showering you with it. You can feel yourself thrashing around, and yet, you don’t see your body moving around. The illusion before you and the sensation you’re feeling is two different worlds. The illusion shows you walking, dangerously slow. And yet, you can feel your body thrashing around. Bewilderment and horror is the only emotion you can feel, the only sensation there. And yet, you somehow know you have a dangerously calm appearance. “Let me go” you whispered weakly. Somehow the energy is way too drained in you. “Please, let me go” you said, a little bit louder. You didn’t even know who you’re begging to. All you know was just you wanted to go.

Suddenly, someone appeared behind you. You can feel their tall figure towering over. And yet you can’t even move to check who was it. Whoever that is, you can feel it was a man.

“Scarlet Reapers” a deep voice said. “Don’t forget that”

“Your allegiance”

And just like that, you jolt up awake. Breaths heavy. You can’t help but pants. Eyes wide open. And just like you thought, you were drenched in sweat. Your flight or fight response were triggered. Paranoia was coming over you. You can’t help but look around. Your horror became more terrifying after you realized it wasn’t your room. You were in a bed yet it’s not yours.

“Let me out!” you screamed. You screamed for help, as loud as you can with all of the energy inside you. ‘Was it all not a dream? Was it real?’ you thought inside your head.

The door to the room was opened harshly. And came Baekhyun into your line of vision. Panic was visible in his face, concern was there too. His eyes frantically search for yours as he ran to you and sat on the bed beside you, engulfing you into a hug.

It’s a rare occasion. Where seeing Baekhyun makes you breathe in relief. The familiar face gives you a sense of comfort. A comfort that somehow felt way too familiar for you, and yet, you can’t pinpoint it. Weakly, you hug him back.

“It’s okay, I’m here, it’s all okay” he said in a gentle voice as he caresses your back, and tightening the hug.

“It was bad” you said. You can’t help but open up to him. You never trust anyone with your emotion, and yet, you have a feeling you can trust Baekhyun with it.

Baekhyun who had his face snug in your shoulder finally looked up and search for yours as he made you look him into his eyes. His eyes full of concern and yet comfort, it somehow feels like… home?

“Was it?” he whispered, loud enough for you to hear.

You can’t help but got lost in his eyes. You never realized how beautiful his eyes were. But now that they were staring right into you, you can’t help but stare. But then you realized he asked a question, and you gave him a weak nod.

He put a trail of hair behind your ear, wiping the sweats on your forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “It’s okay, I’m here” he said as he comfort you.

“What happened?” you asked. “Where am I?” you added.

“Do you remember anything that happened before you passed out?” he asked.

You squint your eyes, a habit of yours when you tried to remember something. You remember something about reading Scarlet Reaper, when suddenly a wave of memories come to you, and yet you can’t remember it due to the overwhelming amount of it.

“I got overwhelmed by memories” you said, your voice quiet.

“Did you remember any of it?” Baekhyun asked carefully.

You shook your head. “No, it was too overwhelming, and seems like, my brain can’t handle it” you said a little solemnly. You now know that those memories are somehow a part in your life, an important one, and yet you can’t remember it, and it upsets you.

“It’s okay, take your time y/n” Baekhyun said comfortingly, as he caressed your back. He kissed your temple before he hugged you again. “It’s okay”

“Baekhyun, I know all of them are important memories that had happened in my life” you said. “And I know that somehow, you’re part of it” you added.

Hearing that, Baekhyun froze. And you can feel him tensing in your arms. “I’m not stupid, all of the comforts, and you, it’s all feel too familiar, and whatever it is, I’ll try my best to remember again, I know deep inside, that whoever you are, you were, or are an important person in my life” you said.

“So please, help me on remembering Baekhyun” you pleaded.

Baekhyun closed his eyes as he tightened the hug. It’s like he didn’t want to let you go. He closed his eyes, taking the very of you in, making sure that you’re very much real. “Of course I will, I will y/n” he said.

And there you were, in his kitchen. A warm milk in front of you. Baekhyun teased you of your childlike taste, for drinking warm milk for self comfort, but you knew he meant no harm. Which by the way, earned a scowl from you.

He told you that after you passed out, he needs to bring you to his place for safety measure, to not make anything suspicious. And he added that they had to act drunk, so people who weren’t in the team thought that you had too many. And you can’t help but shrieked, won’t it be scandalous if he brought you to his place instead of yours. He said that if you woke up in nightmares, which you did he was afraid that he won’t be there, and him staying at your place will just be more scandalous since you live in an apartment building not a house like his where it’s more private. And you understood what he meant.

You told him about your nightmares. The one that just happened and the one that happened when you were in the hospital. He nodded at that. He confirmed that it was real, he carefully confirm that not wanting to scare you off. It was scary and yet, Baekhyun’s presence comfort you, and truth be told, you were more scared of that rather than the fact you were once went through some horrible tragedy. The thought of being dependent on someone for comfort scared you. But you didn’t tell him about that of course.

As soon as you were home. It feels strange. Usually the comfort of your home is the only thing that keeps you grounded. But now with the new information you just earned, being home and alone makes you a little bit paranoid. And you don’t like that one bit. The thought of being dependent is just a big no to you.

“You get this” you said to yourself. Trying to comfort yourself. “It was the nightmare, and a little bit of past trauma, that’s just it, nothing will harm you here, it’s your home!” you rambled.

And yet, it feels like something will jump at you at the slightest chance they got. And the thought of it makes you shiver. You closed your eyes tightly. Frustration comes over you. “Whoever is in this house, an unwanted guest, please just come out wherever you are” you screamed. You were thankful to have the top floor penthouse all to yourself or else, a neighbor complain would be made.

Slowly you opened your eyes. Nothing happened. And yet you still have that lingering feeling. You wanted to take a shower and yet the thought of being naked and vulnerable just doesn’t feel right.

You sighed. You took your phone out and dialed a number.

“Mina,”

“Sign me up to martial arts class first thing in the morning”

You just really can’t sleep. All of the new information, the uneasiness, the feeling of not being in control, it’s all so overwhelming to you. You’ve change position in your bed several times, yet nothing change. Call it paranoia or anything, but the horror of being not in control of your body just like in your dream always flash right before your eyes every time you close them. It feels like as soon as you let yourself fall into the dreamland, you’ll woke up having only your conscience yet not the physic.

Your hands are itching to call the very person that you know could bring some comfort or a little bit of peace into you, and yet, you don’t want to. One, because your ego is too big and you don’t want to seem like a kid just waking up from nightmare except that maybe your nightmares were real, and two, he might be asleep and you know how tiring it could get when you are leading a country.

And yet, your action betrayed your heart. You found yourself reaching for the phone on your bedside table. Dialing the very number you knew you’re gonna regret in the morning. But you can’t help it. You were exhausted. From the moment you got back from the hospital, you haven’t had the chance to have proper rest. Your body is begging you to give it some rest. You can only sighed at that.

As soon as the other line pick up, the immediate you feel the regret.

“Hello?” Baekhyun said from the other line. Sleepiness was laced in his voice. You felt so bad. Knowing Baekhyun, he probably going to tease you about it non stop. Just because he was sweet that time, doesn’t mean he won’t tease you and make a fool out of you when he got the chance using your very weakness.

“y/n?” Baekhyun called again, waking you up from your trance. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Uhm yes! I’m alright! It was accidental, I’m so sorry to woke you up, have a good night sir-“

“Is it about the nightmare?” he cut you off.

You fell silent. You can’t lie, you can’t bring yourself to. But here you are, blatantly lying. “Nope, absolutely no!” you said a little bit too enthusiastically than you’d like to. You mentally slapped your forehead. You knew very well Baekhyun could see through your lies. He was too observant as a person and you don’t think you like that.

“Okay, maybe it is because of that, but you know what? It’s childish, and it’s all in the past, and I know very well I’m pretty safe now, and-“

“Hey, it’s okay to be scared of it, it was a traumatic and scary event, I couldn’t blame you, I’d be shitting my pants if I were you” he said.

You chuckled. Of course he would. “You know what Baekhyun? Just go back to sleep, and I’ll go to sleep too” you said. For some reason, you had a smile on your face and you can’t erase it.

You then heard Baekhyun chuckled from the other line. You swore his chuckle sounds… adorable in your ears, but don’t tell anyone about that. “Good night, Lover” he said in a teasing tone.

You rolled your eyes. “Ugh, whatever sir” you said before hang up the call.

You sighed. You felt a little better and yet unsettled. You can’t help but fall into a deep thought. You remember screaming for the person who helped you to help your dad and yet, you can’t even remember your dad’s face. As long as you live, you only know that you live with your mother as her biggest disappointment, she said, and your dad left both of you since you were a child to marry another person. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

You open your laptop. Deciding that the internet might answer your question. You didn’t know when was the incident happened, so obviously you can’t search for the date. So you search about bus incident, bus bombing, any incident that involved fire and bus. Not knowing the time, you got too lost into your research.

It’s been hours. Your eyes are burning, you were more than sure you had bags under your eyes, and your eyes were bloodshot red. You can feel another yawn come upon you. There were unsurprisingly so many bus incidents that involved fire. And searching for them one by one is exhausting.

Until an article took your interest. It was posted on a blog owned by someone with username called SheWhoDoJustice

“Terrorist Attack? Or A Psycho on the Loose?”

The article talked about several bus incidents, complete with photos from several scanned newspaper as it was from a long time ago. It was a pretty lengthy article, talking as detailed as possible, theories were made from concluding from the news the media reported and you think based on the owner’s own research.

A picture of a damaged bus though caught your attention. A pic that somehow rings a bell in you. And you had a feeling that the bus in the picture is the bus that was in your dream. On the bus was written “19104” on it. You thought it was probably the bus’ number.

You wrote down the details of the bus, the place where it occurred, and everything you need to dive deep into it, and then you bookmarked the site before you finally shut down your laptop.

Immediately, you dialed a number.

“Mina, I called in sick today”

You put on the simplest outfit. Outfits that doesn’t really caught anyone’s attention, so nothing flashy. Your watch on your wrist. A plain grey jacket hoodie with a white t-shirt inside it, a black colored cap, a black adidas legging, a pair of black nike air force one, and a small black backpack, enough to brought all of the things you need such as a bottle of water, some notes and pens, your wallet, phone, a power-bank, sunglasses, and some girls thing. You put on a light makeup and put your hair up. And then, you’re ready to go.

Not wanting to attract anyone’s attention, you wore the cap on. Because somewhere deep down inside, you knew if you didn’t wear one, some people would recognize you, and the thought of being on the internet could only cause shiver upon you remembering the last time you become a hot topic.

Calling in sick means you didn’t have neither Mina nor your chauffeur with you, not that you want to. Because for whatever mission you were on, you want to, or, you need to be alone. And thankfully, you went through the securities that was assigned to you just fine. And that makes you think that you really should tell them once you’ve done your thing.

You took the bus to the place you wrote down from the article. You chose the second row seat from the back near the window. As the bus took off, you enjoy the scenery that went before your eyes. It’s been so long since you can freely enjoy a scenery, something that you remind yourself you should do once it’s all over.

It took you around 2 hours bus ride to reach the destination. you gave the driver the money before you got off from the bus. Judging from the area, you discovered it was a rather countryside rather than a city.

You breathed in the fresh air. You realized that the fresh air came from how green the area was and the lack of motor transportation. The air was so fresh and it reminds you of some memory back when you were child and yet you can’t pinpoint what that is. But you paid it no mind, just wanting to enjoy the scenery for the time being.

You walked alongside the street, enjoying the fresh air and scenery for a short while. Before you finally remember why you came here again. Being here reminding you that you really need to take a vacation after you’re done.

Getting back on the mission, you start to ask around. Asking people, here and there about the town and the incident itself. Yet strangely, everyone seems to avoid the topic or avoid you when you brought up about it. You thought, perhaps they lost a a family member in the incident. So you tried to be as friendly as possible, in hope to gain their trust and make them let you in into the secret that this town held.

Back at the very capital of the country, where exactly is at your apartment. A panic Mina was seen pacing back and forth. Roughly opened the doors to every room of your apartment, screaming your name. The look of distressed was apparent in her eyes. She keep blinking the tears away, not wanting to break down now.

Her shaking hands reach down towards the phone in her pocket. Slowly bringing the device into her line of vision and dialing a number.

“S-sir?” she said into the phone, as her voice cracked.

“Miss y/l/n is not in her apartment”

Mina’s steps were quick as she walked into the president’s office. Her distressed could be felt by anyone who walk passed her. Her walk was unstable, contrast to her usually composed self. She opened the door to the office, revealing a seemingly distressed Baekhyun but she can’t really decipher it. Even if he was stressed, he definitely handling it better.

“Mina, you better have a good explanation to this” Baekhyun said, his voice dangerously low and intimidating. Different than his usual voice that oozing out his authority and dominant side.

“Sir, I really don’t. She called in sick, and I knew it was so different of her to called in sick because the y/n that I know is one stubborn ass that even in her deathbed, she would still chose work over her life” Mina explained. “So I came to her apartment, knowing something was weird, I saw her securities are all in place as it should be, and yet, she was nowhere to be seen in her apartment, I search all over the place, every nook of it, every gap, and she was… nowhere” she continued, feeling a little bit breathless.

Baekhyun fell into a deep thought. His phone continuously ringing yours and yet no answers. Every time it sent him to voicemail, he called again, and again. “Y/n… where could you be?” he mutters to himself.

Unbeknown to you, you were strolling around the area. Haven’t find out much. The thought of giving up seems so tempting, but you’ve come so far to giving up now. 2 hours long of bus ride was a pretty long ride, and it’s too early to give up.

And yet, for someone who seems so observant and quick witted, you didn’t caught the man in black outfits that continue to follow you through the dark.

After realizing where you could’ve been gone to, Baekhyun immediately ask his chauffeur and whoever he needs to do whatever they need to do to get reach of you. And yet at the same time, he didn’t want to alert the people of what’s going on. Knowing the panic it could create, and all of the questions that would come out afterwards, and every consequence. It was difficult, but it had to be done, and he put his everything to make it happened.

Because he knows. He know you could be in danger if he didn’t go to you immediately. He knows exactly the inevitable danger you could be facing on.

He only hopes they didn’t get hold of you yet. And he hopes, you were only gone to some fucking mall for all he cared, anything, but the place he thinks you were at.

A tap on shoulder caught you off guard. You immediately turn towards whoever tapped your back. Your eyes wide opened. The fear that somehow managed to put aside when you arrived, now making its come back in a very overwhelming way.

You couldn’t see the man’s eyes. He was covered in all black. He stands tall, towering over you, making you feel even smaller than you already had. He didn’t say anything. But if your intuition right, this man is just standing still looking at you. And if that doesn’t even make you feel creeped out more than you already are.

“Anything I can help you with?” you asked. Your voice was unstable, and you tried your best to hide the flaw in your voice, not wanting to let the man before you to detect the fear in you. But you knew you failed anyway. And yet the man stayed silent.

And suddenly, abruptly, he moved violently and covered your mouth with his glove covered hand, muffling your scream, his other arm was tightly wrapped around your smaller figure. He lifted you up, causing you to kicking the air, moving as many as you could, trying to let go of the man’s grasp. You keep screaming despite knowing no one will hear you anyway. The part of the area you were in was coincidentally quiet and almost empty. You gave up, letting your fate be chosen by the man.

“Y/n!” A voice shouted right at you. Your eyes shot open. You saw Baekhyun running right towards at you. Seeing him makes the fight in you come again. You thrashed around and screaming. You can feel the man tensing up. His composed composure was failing. You thrashed even harder, and you bite the man’s palm that covered your mouth. He let out a loud groan before he dropped you and run away.

Baekhyun immediately comes to your aid. He took you into his arms. Eyes frantically searching for yours. Look of relief, concern, fear, all were painted in his face.

“Y/n, are you okay? are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, eyes looking you up and down, searching for any wounds or bruises. But it all seems like a blur to you. All you can focus on is his very presence. Weakly, you put your arms around his neck. Pulling him in into an embrace. Your head comfortably snuggled into his shoulder, breathing him in. You can smell the cotton fragrance on him.

Baekhyun froze for a moment, feeling you embracing him. But he relaxed immediately, hugging you back tightly, and warmly. He closed his eyes, enjoying your presence just like you were with him He breathes in relief, knowing he was just in time. Thinking about the possibilities that could happened had he was a slight second late, makes him hug you even tighter than he already is, almost suffocating you in the process. And yet you enjoyed it. You enjoyed his warm embrace, knowing very well he keeps you grounded. He kissed your temple before he put his chin on top of your head as you snuggled into him.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”