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wishesunderthestars · 4 years ago

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Eunoia // Ch. 14

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break. When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

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You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War, minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

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You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

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Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

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The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn��t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

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You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#btscreatorscorner #castlebangtan #bts #bts hybrid au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #bts poly au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort

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quirklessidiot · 4 years ago

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Title: first meetings [ii. the small pink-haired boy] Genre: just angst, drama, romance, historical fiction Pairing: Sorcerer!Sukuna x gn!sorcerer!reader (heian era; pre-curse sukuna)

Synopsis: in which you befriend the slave boy you’re supposed to spy on.

Warnings: not canon stuff, future dark themes,, smoll manga spoilers, slavery, whipping, mentions of rape, language and violence Notes: im kinda back i guess skksks also these are pretty much random au’s of my own take of sukuna’s back story uwu, theyre arranged in no particular order and you can read them in any order. This started out as a random one shot and i couldnt get it out of my head lol ksksksks, def not canon btw but it is canon that sukuna used to be an all powerful sorcerer before he turned to the dark side or smthng.

lil dictionary: non-person- usually what they called slaves during the heian era.

masterlist [for other parts] ;; taglist

“That’s beautiful.”

Contrasting to your rather clean and prestigious appearance, the young boy was dressed in rags and had dirt painted on his face. You could tell by his uncommon red eyes that he didn’t want you here nor did he even want to be associated with you.

“...the boy is rather prideful.” your otosan recounted a few nights before, you’d usually have conversations like this since you were quite close with him and he did like to confide you with these things,“but he has spirit, he’d be good for a ward.”

“What are you doing here?” He spat, being a part of and the sole heir of your family meant you were also treated with dignity and respect, it seemed like this boy wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone, this made you grin wildly much to his disdain, “Oi, stop grinning like that. You’re creeping me the fuck out.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Has anyone told you that you’ve got quite the temper?”

“Well, has anyone told you that you’re being an annoying bitch?” he bit back, five minutes into your first meeting, this strange boy seemed to want to get furthest away from you. He seemed to be rather ignorant to his overflowing cursed energy, your father was right, this boy was definitely no joke.

“That’s sad.” You pouted, “All I wanted to say was how beautiful that Kimono is.”

“I was at a store, looking for some clothes that best suited you when I saw a young boy of your age…” your otosan narrated, “Who had a rather high cursed energy, he seemed unaware with it. He works as an errand boy, I believe, he carries heavy clothes and silk… His looks are hard to miss Y/N, so I’m sure you won’t miss him...try to talk to him…”

The boy looks up to you, completely annoyed, “Well, you said it. Now fuck off, yeah?”

You chose to ignore him and just bend down to his level, you had no training for today so you might as well join the boy for a moment since you had time to kill, “You know, if you keep keeping that attitude up, you might scare the customers away.” you mumbled, loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah?” he clicked his tongue, “Looks to me that you aren’t even here to buy anything.”

“He seemed rather…” Your otosan described, “perplexed...so you might as well go in my stead…”

“Ah.” your grin doesn’t seem to fade despite his rather rough way of speaking, “You just seemed around my age so I got interested.”

“No shit, now buzz off. I got no time for kids like you.”

He talks as if he was older than you, it’s no surprise. Boys like him tend to think they know quite a lot.

“Do you wish to tell me your name now?”

He was silent for a moment.

That’s when realization dawned upon you, why he seemed perplexed around your otosan, why he thinks you were an annoying buzz, and why he couldn’t reply when you asked for his name. You feel yourself inwardly cringe at your mistake, it seems like the boy your father took interest in is a slave with no name, “Twenty.” he mumbles, shrugging nonchalantly.

“What?”

“They call me twenty.” he recounts, his voice is still rough around the edges, remaining uncensored by his identity.

“Right…” you tilt your head, “Twenty…”

“You’ve got silks to bring to the next town, boy!” a loud voice calls out, cutting you short, making the pink-haired boy put the pretty kimono down and back for display. Without even sparing you a glance or a word, he retreats to the back and you’re left squatting there alone. You watch him from behind, specifically at the bandages that peeked through his wrists.

The boy had piqued your interest to the point that you made it your weekly agenda to visit him and a-some-nights agenda to watch over him. He still ignores you and seems to be annoyed by you every time but he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it so you just sit there.

You were also still in awe by how much raw energy he possessed, you’d ask your otosan if he knew any sorcerers with lost children because it surely seemed as if this boy wasn’t ordinary.

“Just keep an eye on him,” was all your father said as you watch the boy close up shop late at night from on top of a roof, “He might make a great sorcerer and shift the tides.”

Your otosan was not one for gambling on people but it seemed like he made a large bet on this boy.

As usual, you’re watching over him close up. It’s late and the owner of the place walks out, a pipe on his lips. Right then and there, he slaps the pink-haired teenager right at the face, “You should’ve joined the customer awhile ago in the dressing room, boy.” he growls, “It would’ve been quick…”

You feel the negative energy emit stronger than ever and your grip on your knife is tight, “Don’t get involved, Y/N.” your otosan’s warning echoes in your head, yes your otosan may have been interested in him but he was never one to dwell in human affairs, saying they were annoying and a mess to clean up.

“...It seems like the lesson a few nights ago wasn’t enough.” you snap back to reality and watch his boss stretch out a whip with its pointy ends and you feel your blood run cold.

‘Don’t get involved-’

You ignore your otosan’s words in your head and throw a stone right at a nearby sign, resulting in a booming clang, making the cat nearby yelp outloud. The pink-haired boy jumps on the spot and so does the older man at the sound.

“Ah fucking-” the older man curses, tucking the whip back in, “No food for you for three days. Know your fucking worth, non-person.”

Your grip on your nodachi lessens as you let out a sigh of relief, whatever legal terms your father must be talking about needs to be done quickly.

On the next day, you’re on your way to visit him again. Carrying the bento box that you know he’ll refuse again because of his ‘pride’ yet you stop dead on your tracks when you find his owner and an older man talking, Sukuna seems to be standing behind them, looking quite uncomfortable.

It didn’t take two and two to guess what was going on, the amount of cursed energy leaking on him was strong so you could only guess this was the man who wanted to get his way on him yesterday. Your nose crinkles in absolute disgust, “Don’t get involved-”

Once again, you ignore your otosan’s words.

“Hey!” You call out, you see his red eyes widen, “What are you doing?”

The older man frowns at your sudden appearance, “None of your business brat. Now go home-”

“I said,” You repeated, your voice dangerously low, “What are you doing to him?”

“He’s a non-person, kid.” his ‘owner’ growls, you notice his hands dangerously close to his whip, “A fucking slave in simpler terms, now get the fuck out before I beat him and you.”

“You don’t scare me.” Your eyes are narrowed, truthfully, no one ever scares you. You were the heir of your clan. It was to be expected and drilled since your curse energy manifested when you were five that fear would come last, “Now unhand the boy.”

“This bitch-”

“Now, now.” The other man smiles, cutting the pink-haired boy’s ‘owner’ off, “Maybe I can take that young child with me too. After all, they seem to be good friends. Two is better than one…”

You watch the other older man snake an arm on the young boy’s shoulder and you could feel the fear leaking out, it was harder to mask and hide now.

“Is it alright to put a little scar on’em? So that they’d know-” He gets ready to take out the whip while your fists are clenched, this would be easy. You could get away with this later, at least you’d take the boy away from this place and help him control his energy after.

Yet before you’re able to land a blow, the pink-haired boy yells at you to move as his ‘owner’ takes out a whip to whip you.

For someone who didn’t seem to like your presence, he was rather quick to defend you, having his face get hit in the process by the sharp whip. Your eyes widen in surprise, “Ah, shit… Y/N, run!” he yells but you’re staring at his very bloody face.

It would obviously leave marks like the wrists and who knows which parts since he was always covered by that very loose raggedy kimono.

You clench your fists tightly and look up from his blood features, the ‘owner’ stops on his tracks when he meets your very cold gaze, “Do you know who you just messed with?” you asked, “You really think I won’t tell my otosan that you planned to make me your prostitute?”

“Y-Y/N, jesus christ just fucking run-” he tried to stutter out, any evidence of the prideful and strong boy who tried to shoo you away was now gone.

Yet like the stubborn child you are, you ignore him and instead take out your family seal and drop it in front of them, ignoring the pink-haired boy’s plea’s and watching the two men in front of you turn white as a ghost as they see the nameplate, “My name is Ryomen Y/N.” You stated, voice loud and clear, “And you better hope that I’ll let you out here dead or me and my otosan will hunt you down for the rest of your life.”

taglist [if your name is crossed out, i cant tag you!] @shinhiromi ;; @hcn421 ;; @airybnb ;; @coldbookworm ;; @kristineyoshaii ;; @frankenstein852

@iguessimastannnow

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna imagines

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komori--shoma · 4 years ago

Text

Shoma Umi Komori.

🦢

(I'm sorry if my english is shitty-)

❛A sad soul can kill faster than bacteria.❜

—𝐽𝑜𝒉𝑛 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑘

⟅☙⟆ Universe ⟅☙⟆

Diabolik Lovers. I plan, however, to take her out of the universe and make her a character of her own. Or maybe I'll just drop it and do both. Who knows?

⟅☙⟆ Full Name ⟅☙⟆

Shoma Umi Komori.

"Shoma" is a Japanese name that means "Woman who seeks the truth, who is not conformist at all." Her second name, "Umi", is also a Japanese name that means "ocean".

⟅☙⟆ Kanji ⟅☙⟆

ショマ

⟅☙⟆ Nickname ⟅☙⟆

Despite being initially confused by these, as she was not used to it, she was given the nickname "Engel" (which means "Angel" in German) by a family quite close to her. The nickname was given by the mother and head of the family, since in the eyes of that woman, Shoma is an angel.

Seiji, who was the adoptive father of the girl, called the young woman "Astertea", which is quite a "peculiar" name in the bible.

Yui, with whom she is no longer in contact with Shoma, used to call her "Sho" or "Shomi" affectionately.

⟅☙⟆ Age ⟅☙⟆

She is eighteen years old, although she looks a bit younger.

⟅☙⟆ Gender ⟅☙⟆

Feminine.

⟅☙⟆ Sexual Orientation ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't know yet. Doesn't really bothers her to know.

⟅☙⟆ Height ⟅☙⟆

160 cm.

⟅☙⟆ Weight ⟅☙⟆

She used to weigh 35 kg., But now she is a proud 64.5 kg.

⟅☙⟆ Blood type ⟅☙⟆

OR-

⟅☙⟆ Status ⟅☙⟆

Alive.

⟅☙⟆ Race ⟅☙⟆

Human

⟅☙⟆ Birthday ⟅☙⟆

June 20th.

⟅☙⟆ Sign ⟅☙⟆

Gemini.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Color ⟅☙⟆

Light blue and night blue.

⟅☙⟆ Appearance ⟅☙⟆

There is a great before and after in her appearance, and even though she is not shown in her story (at the end of the card), there was the occasional change in her future.

The girl has oculocutaneous albinism, so her skin and hair are snow-white. Her hair, due to a small "situation", was long, straight and lifeless. Her hair almost touched her waist, and she basically managed to cover her view. She is now a cute short hairstyle down to the nape of hers, wavy and neat.

Her skin is very pale and fragile, although now she is somewhat better, before she was simply rough and damaged. She has several deep burns and scars on this one as well.

The young woman, despite not having very good eyesight, has beautiful eyes of a light blue color, somewhat grayish.

She has a mark on her right leg in the shape of a fox with several stars on it. It's a pretty special symbol, but she keeps it covered most of the time.

She usually did not wear clothes other than bandages to cover herself, although she still finds old clothes to wear, even though she was a little too big. Now, she got used to wearing light clothes that cover most of her body; like jeans, leggings, or long dresses with something underneath. She doesn't really like to wear short or see-through clothes.

⟅☙⟆ Personality ⟅☙⟆

Many think that she simply doesn't have any kind of emotion. Shoma never shows any kind of expression in public, she is shown with her face up and with a look so cold that she makes it true to her appearance. The young woman is too serious, and depending on the person, it is very difficult to get her out of her typical attitude.

Sho is an elegant little girl, and full of grace despite all her troubles. She will never be friendly enough in front of someone (again, it depends on the person), but she will also not feel uncomfortable or unwelcome unless that is the goal of the little one. Shoma knows that she is able to erase someone from the earth fas if she wishes, but she doesn't abuse that thought, you just have to be careful not to make her angry or touch her too much. It could be a big mistake.

Still, well ...

She is always alert, so it is very easy for her to get nervous or anxious most of the time.

She can also happen that she cannot do something right (she finds it very difficult to concentrate / think on several occasions, as well as sometimes she finds it difficult to understand what happens around her, etc). Still, it is something that doesn't happen as much as before, after leaving the aforementioned situation in which she found herself.

She is easily frustrated, and this happens when she recognizes that she has trouble thinking. It's very easy for her to cry or tear up in frustration (she doesn't do it in public, she refuses to do it, but that only makes it worse). Also, her coping strategy is simply not talking about her emotions and keeping a straight face all the time.

Still, and even though she very reluctantly accepted help, Sho is willing to change and improve (even if she has to go through hell first). She has shown to be too cunning for her age and to behave as if she were an adult, and even though she is slowly trying to behave according to her age, she is very difficult for her as well.

Anyway, Shoma can also be a girl who listens to others and is willing to do it regardless of the situation, and she is always there to be a shoulder on which one can cry. She also tends to have fun when she feels calm around her, being one of the few moments when she feels and acts like a young little girl.

⟅☙⟆ Relatives ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori: Adoptive father. Currently dead.

⟣ Yui Komori: Adoptive sister. Currently alive.

⟅☙⟆ Favorite Food ⟅☙⟆

She doesn't have a single specific favorite food, but she definitely likes sweet and simple foods, like grated applesauce and banana, or a fruit salad.

⟅☙⟆ Hoobies ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Shoma likes to make paintings with her hands. She serves to entertain him and clear her mind.

⟣ She also likes to make crowns with different types of flowers, even some bracelets and necklaces.

⟣ She has a certain fascination for mathematics and literature, so it is normal to see her do either of the two when she is bored. The problem is when she has a hard time doing a difficult exercise.

⟣ She Likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. She likes to decorate and combine, so it is normal for her as a hobby to do the odd combination in video games, or in a room.

⟣ It may not count as a hobby, but Shoma loves to watch an episode of a series that she likes or a movie many times to imitate the lines, as if it were some kind of dubbing attempt.

⟅☙⟆ Occupation ⟅☙⟆

None, she doesn't consider herself a student, even if she studies at home.

⟅☙⟆ Relationships ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Seiji Komori, adoptive father.

She did not have a good relationship with him no matter how hard she tried at the time. It was too obvious the favoritism that he had with Yui, and how she always stayed in the shadow of the blonde. Despite trying to be like Yui, he could never have any kind of acceptance with her father.

⟣ Yui Komori, adoptive sister.

He adored her with her soul. Yui was Shoma's heroine, and she always tried to follow her example despite her unruly attitude as a child. The elder Komori was Shoma's world, and he simply wanted to be with her all the time.

Things have changed now. She can't even look at her. The disgust and hatred that he has for that now young woman is simply immense. And believe it when I say she tries; she tries too hard to forget so many things that caused this feeling, but she just can't.

⟣ Yvonne Beauchene, the right hand.

Shoma's only trusted person alongside her family. Yvonne was Shoma's guardian from the day he arrived at the church, although she had some problems because of it, and that is the reason why she had to leave, but surely nothing bad could happen, right?

⟅☙⟆ Likes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite not having tasted it in recent years, she liked (and still remembers the taste of it, so she still likes) Yvonne's orange tarts a lot. She used to do them when Seiji was not at home for her, Yui and Shoma.

⟣ She loves music, especially the one that doesn't have any type of letter and is only a beautiful and hypnotizing melody. Her favorite, and also Yvonne's, is "The Vampire Masquerade", which is the melody which Yvonne met her husband.

⟣ Regarding the above, she usually daydreams many times with music in the background and she likes that (because the real world sucks and it is her only way out of the stress and anxiety that she feels most of the time). She sometimes even draws or paints those scenarios that are formed in her head.

⟣ As said before, she likes to play decorating and decision-making video games. Also, despite having the face of wanting some horror games (these make her heart race and sometimes she has panic attacks), she prefers Animal Crossing by a lot.

⟣ Loves snakes (which are not poisonous), cats and dogs. Snakes are very good company, and cats and dogs are responsible for keeping her calm.

⟅☙⟆ Dislikes ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Despite having been seen surviving based on it, she does not like meat very much. Of course, she can bear it, she even likes some (very few) meat dishes !, but there are certain types of meat that remind him too much of ... well, her own meat.

⟣ Obviously, she can't stand going to churches or things related to religion. She gets too anxious and nervous.

⟣ Her body and mind literally rejects any kind of physical affection if she doesn't know the person very well or doesn't trust them. It's no surprise, considering her personality. Very few people are lucky enough to even put a hand on her shoulder and not get hurt (Shoma doesn't do it on purpose).

⟅☙⟆ Fears and Phobias ⟅☙⟆

⟣ Somniphobia: fear of sleeping.

Oneirophobia, somniphobia, clinophobia or hypnophobia is an irrational and excessive fear of the act of sleeping. People who suffer from it enter a state of panic caused by the fear that while they are sleeping something terrible will happen to them, such as the possibility of stopping breathing or that they will never wake up, even knowing that there is no threat, but they stay awake, presenting insomnia. Some people who have this phobia associate going to bed with death.

In some cases, panic is unleashed by the belief that the dreams that will be had when sleeping are actually delusions and these will favor falling into a state of permanent madness. This type of phobia generates a great deal of stress and significant physical and mental deterioration, so it is not uncommon for many people to end up suffering from hallucinations, a fact that further aggravates this type of phobia: fear of sleeping.

Shoma cannot sleep because various things used to happen during these. She remembers well once a nun (then she disappeared without a trace) entered her room and hanged her, almost killing her if it weren't for Yui screaming for help.

⟣ Theophobia: fear of religion.

Theophobia is the fear or aversion to religion or the gods, and being more common among people who are raised in an environment of iron religiosity. Theophobia can express itself as fear, aversion, anger, or other negative emotion towards religious practices. In some cases, the theophobic representation can categorize the deity as an arbitrary totalitarian dictator or, conversely, as unworthy of worship.

It is common among people who suffer from theophobia to avoid religious texts, houses of worship (churches, mosques, synagogues ...) and even the parishioners of a religion.

The young woman lived in a church for years and was not treated as "a daughter of God", but as "an aberration of satan" by her father and certain nuns. She causes him so much fear that, if there really is a god, she has abandoned her for "not being worthy". Many things together caused this irrational fear of religion in general.

⟣ Hafephobia: fear of being touched.

Hafephobia is a specific phobic disorder (unlike agoraphobia or social phobia) that causes great suffering in the person who suffers from it.

It is an irrational fear of great intensity that manifests itself when the individual suffering from the phobia comes into physical contact with other people and is touched. It produces a series of cognitive, physiological or behavioral responses, among which extreme anxiety and the attempt to avoid the feared stimulus to reduce the unpleasant sensation stand out.

Shoma, of course, is working on this and for now she's doing very well, but if she's some stranger, she isn't going to allow herself to be touched or touched by another individual. She is so afraid that every touch will turn into a blow or something to harm her.

⟣ Atazagoraphobia: fear of forgetting.

Atazagoraphobia is the excessive fear of forgetting, which includes both the fear of forgetting and the fear of being forgotten or replaced by others. Despite the fact that it is a common sensation, atazagoraphobia has been little described in scientific language. In fact, it has been more pointed out by philosophers and writers who speak of atazagoraphobia as the fear of eternal anonymity.

Shoma was literally forgotten or ignored from a young age, and she doesn't want to go through it again. She doesn't want to feel so cold again that she can't breathe properly or move. She can't, she doesn't want to...

⟅☙⟆ Headcannon Voice ⟅☙⟆

Mia Rodríguez.

⟅☙⟆ Skills ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She is impressively good with knives and razors. She usually uses them for cooking.

⟣ Literally she can imitate many voices, even male ones. She uses it to make jokes or for some plan (to get some dessert) that she has in mind.

⟣ She is becoming more and more independent, and that is why she is getting very good at cooking. She even manages to focus on that rather than other things.

⟅☙⟆ Extra ⟅☙⟆

⟣ She has undiagnosed “attention deficit hyperactivity disorder”.

⟣ She tends to bite her arm or bite her nails if she is very anxious.

⟣ It is difficult for her to accept some changes in her life, but she manages to adapt step by step.

⟣ She likes to play with Yvonne's family, August, her husband, being Shoma's favorite.

⟣ She is considerably innocent of the world around her, but at the same time, she isn't. She is aware that the world revolves around that filthy green paper, and she is very clever with it. She knows that her "condition" and her situation may be a weak point, but it is for that reason that she is also careful who she hangs out with.

⟅☙⟆ History ⟅☙⟆

Shoma arrived at the doors of the Komori family church on May 22, 2001, with only a note that said "My name is Shoma, Mom and Dad can no longer take care of me," just three weeks after I was born. She was greeted by one of the local sisters, a favorite of the owner and leader of that church, Seiji Komori. The latter named was not on that cold night, with the snow falling slowly in that beautiful place, so the same sister took care of the girl in his absence.

A girl with blond hair and pink eyes like the petals of a cherry tree approached said sister, curious by the cries that began to be heard. Seeing her up close, and seeing that beautiful celestial gaze, the seven-year-old girl took the girl in her arms (with the permission of her sister), and did not leave her during that night until the next day. It was no surprise to the sister that her crying stopped as soon as the young Komori began to gently cradle her in her arms.

Still, from the moment Seiji arrived, he knew that something was wrong with the girl, that she was "not human", and that he probably knew whose "gift" it was. Shoma was unwelcome, and he couldn't show her that in public, not with Yui close to her. Also, the plan deviated. No, he isn't supposed to have two daughters, and she is supposed to be just one more orphan, but the young blonde girl already called her "Shoma Umi Komori", and that could be ... Something dangerous for him. Obviously, the orders for Shoma to come to his office were not long in coming as soon as he was two years old.

What Shoma saw in her supposed father's room was sealed in her mind, and nothing else. Every time Shoma was called to her father's office, her heart raced because she knew something bad was going to happen. Every time that happened it was because she Shoma found out more and more that she was going to happen to every sixteen, maybe seventeen-year-old on certain dates. It was because Shoma knew too much about her, and if he couldn't make her forget everything she had seen, then she would silence her to her grave. Every time Shoma gained courage and told Yui, she was scolded for inventing such things, and she would see her father again for "breaking her promise" to him.

The only one who managed to believe her is the same sister who received her the day Shoma arrived there, although that same sister would get a serious face everytime Sho told her that, she never had to see her father when she told Yvonne.

But, one day, Seiji went a bit far with the punishments, and let the fury just blind him, even if he didn't even regret it afterwards. Seeing Shoma talk to someone... Important, once this man left the church it just infuriated him. That man's smile when he stopped talking to her and saw him in the eye was not good news at all. That night, everyone heard the screams of a three-year-old girl resound throughout the establishment, and she was found in the middle of the hall with a desperate Seiji, saying that she had been playing with a poker and that she tripped, with it smacking part of her face.

Shoma began to startle every time someone moved near her, every time someone placed her hand on some part of her body, or when they called her, or when they approached her. She didn't separate from Yui or the sister she trusted so much, and even though it started to be annoying for Yui as she grew older, there were very few times when she was really rude to Shoma due to the fatigue of having her on her back every day three seconds, but they just didn't help Shoma with her fear of being alone, either with Seiji, or with certain nuns. The sister who had her trust steadfastly refused to leave her alone if she wasn't with Yui, although it was only because she slipped out of sight once.

Things escalated to the worse on December 12, 2006, at exactly a quarter past two in the morning. It was precisely an exhausting day for the girl, because the nun who was taking care of her and her sister had to leave due to family problems, or so they told her.

The albino-haired girl couldn't sleep due to some nightmares, even though she had become very habitual. The young woman began to hear murmurs and footsteps outside the room that she shared with Yui, and she could make out her father's voice. She could make out her desperate tone from her ... And, strangely, anger.

Carefully, she got out of her bed without making any noise, but following a little voice in her head, she took the camera that belonged to the blonde that was a gift from her only trusted caregiver, and opened slowly the door. Her father had locked himself in her office, and she could hear someone else's voice. On tiptoe, he approached the door ajar, and looked behind it. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw the body of one of the older girls on the ground, tied up and with blood pouring from her head. That memory is somewhat blurry, but it remembers very well various parts of the conversation between her father and a man with long hair. She took photos, and to her surprise, they did not have flash, and the photos came out perfectly ... That woman had many strange objects.

Once she finished, she turned, intending to leave, but one of the nuns spotted her, yelling to warn Seiji. Shoma wasted no time running and closing in on her sister's room, which she was awakened by her scream. Shoma told her everything quickly, leaving the photos to hide them, and the little girl didn't hesitate long to jump out the window (it was not the first time that she did that out of boredom), and she ran away from there. Still, the nun had gone ahead, and it wasn't long to be just a few steps away from her with her father's poker, part of them burning.

She remembers her sister with hatred seeing it all in horror and just standing there with the camera in her hands, shaking, to simply turn and turn her back on him.

In the blink of an eye, she was dragged by her hair by her "father" and other nuns, and before she had a chance to run away, the girl was thrown into the basement, away from other people, away from Yui, away from everyone. She tried to get out, scream, but no one ever came.

Nobody, nobody at all...

And here ends her story. The young woman, thanks to her curiosity, sealed her fate. She was destined to die in that place, even if she didn't want that, alone and starving, not knowing if Yui or someone would remember her...

But they say that there is always someone who takes care of us somewhere, right? Even if she has no hope... Maybe there really is someone, even without her knowing it.

#shoma komori #komori shoma #diabolik brothers #diabolik lovers #diavolik lovers #diabolik oc #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik #diaboliklovers #dia lovers #dialovers #describe your oc #oc info

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incineraryperiphery · 4 years ago

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character ask.... aizawa of course 🥺🥺🥺

Of course!!! 1) Uncommon headcanon about them I am deeply attached to: We both know he’s definitely trans, so. He eats most of his meals that aren’t jelly packets cold because he forgets about them until the very last possible second - if he’s not in the classroom or on patrol, Time Doesn’t Exist. Also: he prefers his fries cold and drenched in mayo. No I will not take criticism on this.

2) Widely-held headcanon about them that I reject: Hm. Honestly, I don’t think I like when people dial up the whole “secret softie” thing? I don’t really reject it and maybe I’m just projecting, but I see him as showing affection in ways people don’t normally get instead of the traditional hugs/touching/talking to someone a bunch. I like him as a gruff, straightforward dude who only really speaks when he has to and doesn’t particularly enjoy people touching him unless he initiates the contact, and even then too much of it makes him itch. (I think he has a lot more patience for kids, though, because they’re kids and he might as well indulge them.)

3) What were they like as a kid? What was their early life like?: I think he was a very serious little kid! I personally hc him as an only child who did pretty well until he hit school and realized ‘oh wait, I don’t have to be a girl’ and things kinda got a bit turned around in regards to both his home life and at school. His parents are divorced but his mother’s family is incredibly supportive and his maternal grandmother definitely spoiled him and still does.

4) Symbols/motifs that I associate with them–colors, animals, zodiac signs, mythic themes, imagery, objects, etc: The color grey, cats (of course), those super fuzzy blankets you can lose things in just setting them down, and the whole ‘grizzled mentor’ trope.

5) Other characters or types of people I have in mind when I draw and/or write them. A lot of my inspiration for writing both him and Mic come from what I needed in a teacher when I was in school (^▽^;) Someone who could explain concepts as simply as possible while also not treating me like I was stupid for not being able to get it, but also went fast enough that my brain wouldn’t get bored and tune it out once the initial interest wore off.

6) What I project onto them when I draw and/or write them. That chronic fatigue babey! He can also have a little depression, as a treat. On a lighter note, I’m definitely projecting how much I love cats with silly names onto every fic with him I write.

7) A surprising hobby, interest, or phobia they have. Baking! When he has the energy for it and actually remembers to get the ingredients, I think he enjoys the process of making far too much and also definitely enjoys leaving the excess in the breakroom/teacher’s lounge at UA to watch everyone scramble and try to figure out where they came from.

#ask games #asks #meta #aizawa shouta #thanks meg!#i have so many feelings about aizawa man #aloys says things sometimes

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masterofmaagnetism · 4 years ago

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A Monster in the Dark - Chapter 2

[ self ship fanfic about Nightmare Bonnie and my insomniac s/i :) ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ]

Cheesy Dip was certainly more effective than an alarm clock.

Canetheus woke with a groan, a little annoyed by the cat pawing at his back (when had he rolled over?) but understanding that it was probably just dinner time.

His beloved asshole jumped off of his back once she was sure he was awake, so he rolled off the couch, crashing onto the floor with a groan.

It took him a minute, but eventually Canetheus managed to pull himself up onto his feet. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered at the sound of Cheesy screaming. He stopped in front of her food cabinet to stretch, the motion pulling a satisfied yawn from his lips.

Only to have it replaced with a groan when Cheesy began headbutting him, trying to get him to move faster. He fed her quickly before moving on to feed himself, since he usually associated her feeding times with his own.

It was dark out now, as far he could tell from the little sliver of moonlight breaching his covered up windows. Perfect timing then- this was usually the time that the nightmares started.

He needed to find a graveyard shift job. The one he was working now was during the day, which made sleep even harder than usual to find. He was lucky if he didn’t accidentally fall asleep at night on days like that.

A slight shudder went down his spine at the thought of his nighttime naps. Without the sunlight to keep him safe, the animatronics he used to love would take on monstrous forms and haunt him in his rare moments of sleep. He tried to talk to people about it, but they always brushed him off. Eventually he stopped trying.

He really should stop thinking about them. That was practically asking for the bastards to show up. But sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder… maybe they weren’t attacking him. Maybe they were just asking for his help. It wasn’t an uncommon thought of his, since it was five children who had disappeared.

Other times he considered the possibility that these nightmares hadn’t been meant for him. They just said some… odd things on occasion. One of them called him ‘Christopher’ once, and they referred to him as if he were a child. That didn’t make sense not only because he was a fucking adult, but also because he wasn’t born male and certainly wasn’t given the name ‘Christopher’.

It was just a strange situation altogether, but he tried not to think about it too much. It didn’t matter that they weren’t made for him, all that mattered was that they were his demons now, not this Christopher’s.

Though it never stopped him from being curious. He spent most nights like this researching and while he hadn’t found anything on a Christopher, he did find something about a Fredbear’s Family Diner. One of its kind, basically the starter version of the Freddy’s chain.

Tonight was the night he was going to delve deeper. He finished his dinner, giving Cheesy an affectionate scritch behind the ear and heading to his mostly disused bedroom. He rarely ever slept in here, mainly using it as storage and an office of sorts.

He fell back into the chair in front of his desk, pausing to pop his back and knuckles, before opening up his laptop and getting to work.

The tab his computer had been left on was a sort of… fansite for the ‘lore’ behind the Freddy’s chain. He never really liked the site (they always described Bonnie as blue, as well as other discrepancies) but it had the quickest access to information on Fredbear’s Diner.

What he really needed from here was the newspaper clipping from 1983 with the big headline “Child Has Frontal Lobe Bitten Off By Animatronic- Does This Spell The End Of Frebear’s Family Diner?”. It’s only a partial clipping, never going far enough down to show the name of the child, but it does have a picture of the child and his family and the name of his father.

William Afton, co-owner of the diner and the performer sometimes inside of the Spring Bonnie animatronic, who was apparently so devastated after the incident that he quit and divorced his wife, taking their two other children with him.

It was a little easier to find stuff on Afton than his child, especially because he was apparently the one to start the original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.

“What kind of man watches an animatronic almost kill his son and decides to open an animatronic based restaurant chain?” Cane muttered, once finding a picture of Afton standing next to his new animatronics. “Fucking freak.”

Not that he could blame him too much. Cane had always been fascinated by animatronics, even after that terrible day. He’d never start a chain restaurant with them, but he could help build them just fine.

After a few more hours of searching, nothing more was yielded other than a killer headache. He sighed as he shut the laptop once again, getting up to grab some aspirin and maybe head out for a short walk. Depended on how quickly the headache went away, if at all.

Aspirin in hand, he was about to pop it into his mouth when caught sight of something… blue peeking out of his bedroom doorway.

No. That couldn’t be… was it? Cane stood there and stared at the monstrous bunny that stared right back at him, it’s head tilted ever so slightly.

He’d never seen one of them in the real world before, only in his nightmares. He figured he had to be dreaming so he blinked a few times, even pinching himself in the arm. The thing was still there.

It was only when Cheesy looked at the bunny that he realized it was really there, and he was awake. Could cats see hallucinations? He hoped so. At least that thing wasn’t moving.

“Okay, well, you stay there, I’m gonna uh… I’m gonna go for a walk,” he suddenly announced, surprised that he’d spoken to it. It seemed surprised too, but he didn’t fully process that as he popped the aspirin into his mouth, chugging down a gulp of water with it.

He then threw it a peace sign, turned on his heel, and practically stormed out the front door, trusting that it wasn’t real and that Cheesy would be fine. Even if it was real, his bastard kitty could open doors well enough.

It was only when he was about a mile away from his house when the reality of the situation hit him. “What the fuck,” he muttered as he came to a hard stop. “What the fuck,” he stated much louder, gaining the attention of the couple taking their dog on a late night walk.

What the fuck indeed my good dude.

#self ship fic #self shipping #scrap.writing #s/i: canetheus freeman #canetheus freeman #nightmare bonnie #maybe if you whack me in the head i'll pass out (nightmare bonnie self ship tag)#<--- need to start adding that tag efjhwejfwe

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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864

What was your last facebook status? Hmm I share posts a lot and add my own captions, but I never upload my own statuses unless I’m changing my profile photo. That being said, my last post involved making fun of our military. What color is the wall in your kitchen? All our walls are white, but there’s a part of the kitchen where the lower half of the wall is made up of coral-ish tiles. Last time you were in a group shot? My best guess would be late April when we took a family photo for my parents’ 23rd wedding anniversary. Other than that, my phone tells me that the last group shot I took with my friends was taken on February 7th. Damn. Last time you dressed formally? I think it was Feb 2017 because that was the last debut I remember going to. At what age did you go through puberty? I was a bit of an early bird lol, I got my period a few weeks after turning 10.

Last time you got an xray? 2016. I needed multiple medical tests before I was allowed to enroll in my university, and it was during those tests that doctors found out I have scoliosis so I needed some X-rays done for the school to see if PE was gonna be a problem for me. What is the stupidest show on television? I don’t watch a lot of TV these days but uhhhh I never saw the appeal of reality shows that have some dating gimmick. Do you enjoy photo editing? Nah. I’ve never understood how Photoshop works. Do you pluck/wax your eyebrows? I pluck them because of anxiety, not because of maintenance. Have you ever owned a blacklight? Sure. When I was a kid I loooooved invisible pen + blacklight kits; always thought they were the coolest thing and they always made me feel like a big badass detective haha. Do you own a coloring book? Yessssss. I’m pretty sure this blog was able to cover my coloring phase two years ago. I haven’t touched my coloring books in a while, but that just means I’ve been doing okay. And that’s a real good thing. Do you shop at a dollar store? Obviously not, but we do have stores that kinda have the same gimmick. One that I can think of is Daiso (it’s actually a Japanese chain but whatever) which sells most of their stuff at ₱88. If I need something for the short-term, I’ll sometimes get it from there. Do you do any winter sports? ...No. Which is worse: Snakes, Scorpions or Spiders? I’ll go with scorpions, because I had an uncle who kept this scorpion figurine and always told me scary stories about them, so for the longest time I’ve associated scorpions with danger and venom and just generally the feeling of being scared of them. Is there an attic and/or a basement in your house? We have neither.

Do you own duct tape? My parents probably have a roll in their room but I have no reason to have one of my own. Do you own a jack knife? Nope. When was the last time you ordered something online? November. I was buying Christmas presents.

Have you ever been bitten by a tick? No, but they’ve walked on me before. I'm always able to feel and catch them, though. Do you prefer blackberries or raspberries? No preference. What color is your mom’s car? I’m not actually sure who pays for our cars, but our main family cars are white and blue-greenish. Do you like flavored water? I’ve never had it before and I’m not interested. I drink water because I find its tasteless-ness refreshing, so to drink water with flavor is super pointless to me. Do you watch wrestling? You asked the right person ;) Hahaha I love wrestling, but I can’t say that I watch recent episodes. I don’t find the storylines as captivating these days, so it has also meant that I mostly don’t know who the newer wrestlers are anymore. But even if that’s the case, I’m never completely away from wrestling because I still subscribe to wrestling-themed YouTube channels and stay updated with wrestling news sites.

Do you enjoy cranberry juice? No, but my mom is nuts about them. We always have two or three bottles of cranberry juice in the fridge at a time. I personally think it smells terrible, but I don’t like fruits. Do you drink? Yes. Do you have unwanted facial hair? Nope. Do you know the difference between "possum" and "oppossum"?` No. Have you ever had a bird or a squirrel in your house? I’ve had countless birds sit on my windowsill, but they never went inside. We don’t have squirrels. What label would you give your clothing style? Soft girl, trendy, chic. How far away is the closest mall? Two minutes away from the main entrance of our village. How many gingers do you know? Zero. Do people often misspell your name? Yes, but I don’t make a fuss about it because to be fair, mine is the uncommon spelling of the name. I do get annoyed when people *who already know me* still misspell it, though. What is your sexual orientation? Demi. At least that’s the one that makes most sense to me in the meantime. I prefer not to put a label on myself.

Do you know another language? Yes indeed. Do you think sloths are cute? Sure, but there are cuter animals. Are you reading a book currently? Not at the moment, but I really should find another memoir to read. How many hours do you work a week? 0. How high off the ground is your bed? Idk, it’s standard bed height lol. It’s high enough for me not to allow Cooper to start jumping off of it yet, but low enough for my feet to reach the floor. Do you have a tv in your room? I used to; the PS3 also used to be in my room for some reason. Once we noticed that my brother would always come over my room to use my TV and the PS3, we just moved both things to his room. Do you wear a lot of plaid? I wore a plaid skirt everyday from kindergarten to high school. I don’t think I’ve worn plaid since. I didn’t end up hating the pattern but I do just need a fucking break from it lol What do you think about gauged ears? Personally not a fan. It makes me wince :( But like I always say, you do you. Do you text a lot? I used to, before the quarantine. There’s no reason to get load now that I’m just at home all day, all week, and all month, so I’ve stopped texting indefinitely. How often do you go camping? I’ve never even been. What is the cutest breed of dog? I find all of them cute except for chihuahuas and pugs. I also feel bad for some mixed-breeds like golden retriever corgis... Do you own a cat? My sister used to. I never had one of my own. What are the initials of your high school? AA. What are your initials? RIAC. Do you do dishes by hand or dish washer? By hand. I don’t know any one Filipino house that has a dishwasher lol that’s definitely always been a first-world concept to me.

#survey #surveys

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benevolentcalamity · 6 years ago

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This is my entry into the contest wherein we celebrate Zenny’s birthday! It’d be wrong of me not to let an angel’s halo truly shine.

Here’s this being okay... This is the only way I really know how to appreciate him. I won’t disappoint! ♪ ＼(￣▽￣)/

#happybday_ZEN ^^

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They say that time can either hang on a moment, or it can fly before you can blink fast enough to see it go. When you’re doing paperwork, it feels like it hangs, like your coffee mug could slowly get colder but the pile never gets higher. No matter how many papers you fill out, be it for your continued education - meant to guarantee a position that will secure your livelihood - or some other sort of benefit, the stack won’t get past half an inch. But you won’t stop with it, not until you’ve done what you need to do so that you have a home to go to.

Ping-ping-ping!

Blinking, you reach for your phone, taking it into your hand - your fingers are nimble from using it so much - and unlocking it. It’s not uncommon for it to go off whenever you seem to space out, so your heart has long since stopped leaping from your ribs whenever it did. A lot of people in this crazy world seem to know your name, as though they’ve known you for so very long even if you seem to have only known them in turn for about half a year. At least, it feels like half a year.

You smile upon seeing the familiar ‘Yoosung’ accompanied by a puppy emoji as the ID texting you.

“Studying hard for midterms, [MC]! We’re both going to work hard!”

On a normal basis, you’d figure Yoosung would quickly abandon such vitality towards his schoolwork. (Jumin would be in on that one, too, even if you secretly believe he has a hidden faith that he’ll shape up.) But lately, there’s been a bright light in his eyes, a bounce in his step. Maybe he’s been inspired by someone, maybe he’s adopted a new perspective? You’ll never know, but you appreciate that he’s deciding to try and be the greater person he’s always wanted to be.

Deciding to indulge his happy-go-lucky mood, you shuffle a bit in your chair to respond to him.

“You’re gonna do amazing, Yoosung! I’m already so proud!”

His reply is almost immediate, as though he’d been waiting for a proper moment to catch you. “Haaaa. The amount of work I have looks neverending! But it will work out, just you watch me!”

“And I’ll work hard, too!”

Deciding not to bother him anymore, you exit out of the private chat, your thumb lingering for a few seconds with each screen you visit while you momentarily pretend that the paperwork is doing itself.

Today has a strange air, you think, and you decide to check the calendar app to see if the reason lies there.

March 22nd...

Biting your lip, you squint, trying to think of anything that could be today or coming up after. The RFA isn’t having another party for a little while, and there’s not really anything- wait.

Changing apps, you flip quickly over to initiate a private chat with Seven. His head’s never empty, and he never sleeps, so he knows almost everything there is to know about everyone in this association. Maybe he could give you a clue? With the silent hope in mind, you send him a quick message.

“Seven?”

The reply isn’t immediate like Yoosung’s, but it’s a reply all the same.

“Top of the morn’ to you! Lolol” “What’s happening? Feeling lonely? What brings you to me?”

It’s so amazing how Seven always seems so bright in his chatrooms. When you first were getting used to being a member, he came across as an everyday geek: someone who looked like they couldn’t be bothered with you but were actually considerably amiable.

“Is there something coming up soon? I feel like something really important is just days away...”

“April Fools! How can you forget that? You should help me out with Jumin - give him something that’ll really make him upset!”

That’s not it, you think.

“Anything else?”

“Oh yea... Zen’s birthday’s on that day, too. I’ll give him something special, too!”

There’s an intense heat whirring in your ears all the way to your fingertips, and you nearly drop your phone. The only thing saving it from absolutely shattering is finding its way right onto your dog. A loyal Shiba Inu, that one. (You call him Pochie.)

Grabbing it while unwittingly dunking a strand of your hair in your coffee, you take a split second to recollect your bearings and look back at the screen. Coughing into your elbow, you quickly message the self-proclaimed defender of justice a thanks. It’s a blur even once you send it, but now that you’ve finally gotten what’s so important, there’s another part of things you need to address.

Contrary to a few other members, you feel you have a strong bond with Zen. He might be flirty as beans and treat girls the same way, it feels like he makes you feel extra special. Maybe it’s because you two are in the same association, maybe it’s because he feels like Jumin doesn’t deserve to be near you, but any scenario is fine by you.

Deciding to get back to Seven later, you flip quickly through your contacts to find Jumin, and when you do, you- Oh.

“Jaehee.”

You scroll up towards Jaehee - bless her soul - and initiate a chat. The woman had been constantly living off of 12 cups of coffee, maybe more, and at the time she was not always the most pleasant individual because of that, but you two respect each other. You've gotten bold enough as to say you’ve become something among the lines of best friends.

“Jaehee~ Is Jumin available?” You message.

This time, you’re able to fill out a few more papers before she responds, and she takes on a less formal tone than usual. She must be tired.

“Yes. He just got out of a meeting. You’ll want to keep it short though, since he’s always very busy.”

“Thank you~! <3″

Not wasting time, you switch gears back to Jumin, quickly texting, “Do you have time to spare?” This is just politeness combined with professionalism - something he says you desperately needed when you first took over Rika’s position.

His response is swift. “Yes. What do you need?”

“April Fool’s is also Zen’s birthday, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. If you want to celebrate it, such a thing would take convincing his directors to give him the day off so that we can with him present. But, it’s not impossible to do so.”

“I want him to have a proper celebration.”

“Understood. We’ll see what can be done.”

He leaves the chatroom right after sending that: an odd habit that you picked up on even in the first few minutes you’ve known him. Contrary to popular belief, Jumin is less than hostile. He’s a very fine man, having displayed that while he believes in you and has faith in you, he has high expectations of you even now.

Zen and Jumin have almost never gotten along. You even now don’t know why, even with how close you’ve been to both of them- no, the entire RFA. With how deeply loved you are by them in turn, you would have expected to be able to uncover every bit of information about them. After all, you are at the helm of this association.

But you’re not... Especially not like Rika did. She knew everything about each member, as the founder, all the way down to their nighttime rituals. From Zen’s face masks to when Jaehee walks through the door to her home. (You still feel unrelenting fury for how much Jaehee sacrificed when Jumin demanded so much of her.)

You shake your head. There’s no time to reflect on how things had been, now that everything’s passed. Saeran and Saeyoung are beginning to rekindle their brotherhood and fill the gap in the former’s missed years of the life he wanted so badly. The white dye’s washed from Saeran’s hair, and his conditions are being taken in and treated. Rika can no longer instill her venom into his innocence.

You wonder what Zen is-

“AAAAAAH-!”

A flick of your wrist, a sad attempt to push the green button on the ringing phone somehow ending in success, and the toppling of yourself and the chair onto the floor with a resounding ‘thud!’.

“... Hello?” You weakly manage through your mangled bangs.

“Honey, are you okay?” Zen’s voice chirps through the receiver. “That was loud.”

“It’s nothing, Zenny,” You assure, tugging your phone into your hand and to your ear, “I just fell out of my chair... In glee! I’m overjoyed that you called me!”

“Really~?” He sings, but then his tone turns serious. “Sweetheart, I’ve been meaning to reach you.”

You blink. “Is something bothering you, Zen?”

“Oh, honeyyyyy~!” He dramatically drawls, and you can sense him leaning back. “April Fool’s is coming up! Do you realize what happens on such a terrible day?”

You want to make a quip about his ponytail being chopped off if he isn’t careful, but that wouldn’t be very nice. Actually, that’s more Seven’s thing, when he isn’t tormenting Elizabeth the Third. That poor cat. (You worry about her, and not just because of Seven.)

“A neverending plethora of pranks,” You chortle,”Seven’s favorite time of the year.”

“Yes-! It’s so irritating - no one knows when to quit, even here! I’m so through with it, and it’s not even that day yet!” He sounds truly irritated... Only Jumin could irritate him this much- Oh.

“It’s also your birthday, isn’t it?” You ask. It wouldn’t be nice to pretend you don’t remember. You just know you can’t let him in on a party.

“Aaah~ You remember!” He coos. “Babe, just knowing that makes me so happy!”

You can’t help the small giggling fit that escapes you. “That’s my mission! I would say that Operation: Happy Zenny is go!” Okay, maybe that’s a bit much.

Some squeaking on his end, before he speaks up. “Oh god... You’re so cute-! The beast inside me grew by around ten percent, at this rate. Don’t forget, you’ll need to take responsibility once it overtakes me.”

A big smile is on your face. “Maybe I need to do a bit more then~?” You sing. “Like this? Huuu~”

More squeaking. “Baaabe~! Don’t tease me so much. Haaaa, how much I want to just get away from here and whisk you away.”

“I could slip by and bring you a frosted lemonade, if you want,” You hum. He’s warmed up to the drink, since he drinks lemon in a great many things. Actually, he loves frosted lemonade. It’s a good alternative to beer. (He’s been cutting down on that and his ciggies, by your request.)

“Aaaah! The special potion of my love! Her little witch’s brew shall let me do my very best~!” He excitedly proclaims. “Ah. You wouldn’t mind doing that? I’d love to see you. Maybe get a bit of love-love energy- Oh, come on!”

You blink.

“Honey, I gotta dash. The director’s looking for me. By the time you’re here, I should be done. I can’t wait to see you~!”

“Mmmwah~” You blow him a quick kiss as your farewell, smiling at more of his squeaking. “See you, Zenny~”

“I’ll see you later-! I love you.”

As expected of you as someone who’s going to be hosting and inviting people to the parties at RFA, you’re doing your best to organize something for Zen. You’re aware of his tastes, so decoration isn’t a hassle. Making the main halls and the ballroom look like something straight out of Phantom of the Opera takes the greatest ease. Something to appeal to Zen’s personal tastes.

While you’ve had people here helping you set things up, you asked Jumin to (nicely) keep Zen busy for the remaining time until the party. You also asked Seven to lay off on any pranks he’d have up his sleeve. He’s one of three - the others being Yoosung and Zen himself - who was the warmest to you even in the beginning, so as a close friend and the head of RFA, he listens to you. Won’t be able to keep him at bay when Elly’s in the picture, though.

You digress, checking your clipboard. It’d probably mean a lot more to Zen if a lot of people he didn’t know didn’t show up. You’re going to need to pull some strings to win over some folks from other production companies as an opportunity to meet the star actor himself. You’ve already extended the invitations to the normal guests that attend pretty much every other party, using your internalized wiles and eloquence to win them over completely. As Jumin observes, this may wind up being a birthday party/charity ball in one, but so long as Zen has a proper birthday party, you don’t mind.

Tugging the pen from behind your ear, you tap it against the clipboard, checking some boxes. “Invitations... check... Decorations...” You take a moment to survey the room, “... check. Food and drinks... check. Cake... Not yet.”

You ordered something big enough to accommodate the vast amount of guests - actually, probably even bigger. It’s more for personal taste, since you like when there’s leftover cake. The guys like to get on your case about your eating habits, even if you have been maintaining your figure. Moreso to make sure that you don’t let yourself go - a self-requirement at best. That and working out and eating right improves your overall health, so it’s a win-win.

A variation of ‘Ievan Polkka’ plays in your head to accommodate the calm coming with the stress.

“[Name]?”

You whip to your left to see Jaehee walking up with a clipboard of her own. She looks sleepy - not tired - but she also looks focused. It makes you feel bad to know you’re pushing her a bit, but you received her assurance that it’s worth it. Actually, she’s overjoyed; Zen is her favorite actor yet and as such she feels your conviction in giving him a good party. So, she’s putting in a little more effort. Maybe more than you?

“What is it, Jaehee?”

“The cake’s here. It’s just barely shorter than the doors...”

You scratch the back of your neck. “Sorry, Jaehee, about all of this.”

Upon hearing you say that, her entire disposition shifts to sunny. Her hand touches your shoulder, and her lips curl into a sweet smile. The kind that says there’s no need to apologize.

“You’re doing so great with this,” She praises, “Zen deserves nothing less than the best!” I had a feeling she’d say that... “You’re very lucky. Ah, he is, too! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else work so hard to put together a birthday party.” Not even Jumin for Elly? You’ve actually seen him consider throwing a bash for her - and it took a lot of you to get him to stop entertaining the notion.

“Ah, before I forget...” You tuck the pen back behind your ear. “The guests were sent an invitation to be here at around 7:15, right? It’s quarter to 7 right now, and I know it’s not very leader-like of me, but I’m a bit worried.”

“Our guests are known for, out of politeness, being at events approximately 15 minutes early so as to appeal to the host, so they should begin showing up at around 7 sharp.” Noticing your stress, she moves her clipboard into one arm and uses the other to hug you. “It’s alright. You’re putting your all into this, and I’m sure the results will be exactly as we plan.”

“I hope so...”

Just then, the door opens and reveals Yoosung, clumsily milling about, tugging on his clothes. (A dress shirt and nice pants and the sort, as you asked.) A pink hue colors his cheeks, deepening as he notices you and Jaehee. He isn’t walking straight, something you found usually signifies that he’s nervous. Then again, if he isn’t happy, he’s nervous or stressed. Usually it’s because of everything that went down, or him beginning to finally get through the hard work his college gives him.

“Yoosung?” You ask. “Are you okay?”

“They’re coming!” He cries. “What do I do, do I greet them? Open the door for them? And where the heck is Seven?” The answer to the last one is probably that Seven’s handling security, making sure everything’s in order and nobody’s trying to pull anything.

“Can you hold the door for them?” You request, to which he nods, running over and has the right door open in a second, a second person - an assistant - grabbing the other door and letting the river of guests to enter. Yoosung’s face is quickly hidden by them, but it’s apparent that he’s holding together as he does for every party.

At this point in time, you’re happy they seem glad for the masquerade theme to their clothes; as though they’re aware of Zen’s standing. Many of them are from affiliated companies with his profession, others being the normal guests. (A strange anxiety consumes your stomach.)

You bow, as does Jaehee, and thank them for coming as they greet you. Just then, your phone sounds from the pocket of your blazer. Tugging it out, you quickly unlock it upon seeing Jumin had sent you a message, raising one hand and bowing again in apology.

“He’s beginning to get testy. Is everything in order?” Letting Seven handle Jumin would be lazy.

You quickly respond after a quick survey of the ballroom. “Yes. The guests have arrived. He can come back now.”

“Understood.”

Now, it’s just a matter of playing the waiting game. As the instruments of the small orchestra - and by small you mean one that will be suitable for a building full of people - fill the air with notes and tones, you find yourself more at ease. Fiddling with your mask, you turn to Jaehee, smiling at her.

“Jaehee, you can go ahead and go dress up,” You tell her.

Excitement fills her eyes, and she nods, checking your mask and taking your blazer, handing your phone back to you after checking the pockets. She then rushes off, a large grin on her face. The last thing you’d want is for her to feel left out, so there’s no chance that you’d let her stay off to the side instead of enjoying the festivities. RFA, under you, is not an organization wherein its members can’t enjoy the same luxuries as the guests. You wouldn’t dream of letting it be like that.

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Looking down at your phone, you open up the messenger app - just in time to receive a message from the birthday prince himself.

A selfie, first of all, greets you. He’s clad in a fanciful tux, a mask reflecting that of the Phantom on his face, and his hair is styled a bit differently aside from his trademark ponytail. Like usual, he’s wearing a wonderful smile.

Then the message. “I’m happy to dress so nicely, but I’m not too sure what’s going on. Jumin isn’t saying anything. Honey~ What’s going on?”

“Are you here?” You reply.

“Just about. I see so many cars and limos... I wasn’t told there would be another party, but at least he’s allowed me to look even better than I already do. I can’t wait to see you~ It’ll make this so much better.”

A grin etches itself on your face, and you lower your phone as the guests all grab some drinks. A variety of wines, champagne, whiskeys; sophisticated beverages to accommodate the high-class palate.

Stepping to the podium, you raise your wine glass, tapping the spoon on it close to the mic. Once you have the attention of the guests, you lower both hands, bowing slightly before speaking.

“Good evening, everyone. I welcome all of you to our establishment for yet another party. It gives me great pleasure to have you all here today,” You announce, fiddling with the papers slightly before stilling your hands. “Tonight, however, is not just a charity ball: it is a party to celebrate the birth of one of our most beloved members.”

Your eyes snap upward as the doors open, revealing Jumin - poker faced as usual - and Zen. With a smile, you stretch one arm out, motioning their attention to the pair.

“Everyone, please welcome and give your well wishes to my love, Zen! May all of your wishes come true! Happy birthday!”

There’s flashes, but more than them there is applause. Through it, you can see a big smile on the face of your wonderful boyfriend. After having your fill, you step down, taking a route to the front in order to greet him. Once the two of you are face to face, you ignore the continuous flash photography, smiling as he puts his arms around you.

“Oh, sweetheart... I would have been content with taking you out,” He says softly, but the appreciation in his voice is thick. “You’re so thoughtful.”

“I wanted you to have a formal celebration at least once,” You say softly, putting your hands around his neck, resting your palms on his nape. “It means a lot to me that you do. I haven’t seen you celebrate your birthday this way. Do you... like it?”

“Babe, even popcorn and Netflix would have been an ideal way to celebrate,” He mentions, brushing some hair behind your ear. “But it’s wonderful... You worked so hard. Now, I hope you’ll be able to relax. Perhaps a dance?”

You beam, nodding, moving your hand to take his as the guests move to mimic, and the entirety of the ballroom - you notice Jaehee now fully dressed and dancing with Jumin - erupts into a traditional ballroom dance in accordance to the music. From then on forward, all of you step around, sometimes swapping partners, eventually reuniting as the following songs reach their arpeggio.

Zen always makes these small jabs about sweeping you off of your feet like a prince charming would his princess. Though, he always likes referring to himself as a ‘sleeping beauty’ waiting for his princess charming to wake him in his sleep. (You know this since he would sleep with you during times when you were plagued by nightmares. Actually, the two of you sleep together very frequently, face masks aside.)

The clock stopped ticking forever ago, time stopping on behalf of you and your beloved prince. For all you’re aware, it’s still only seven in the evening, the sun remaining just above the meeting between land and sky. You still have time to spend awake, and Zen can remain awake for even longer. Even with this, you know that it’s nigh midnight, maybe past that, and the guests are beginning to grow fatigued. Some have left already - more because of their business than anything, and you accepted their apologies - and some are in the process, but the others are sticking around even after the dance. Either to speak with one of you two or simply to socialize.

By now, Zen’s lead you away, over to where you two can be alone. Right now, the two of you are on the balcony, wine glasses put aside so that you don’t get too inebriated. You’re aware that even Zen has a limit, which is why you two are here. The stars are a proper curtain for the moment, the dark color of the night cloaking you as though protecting you from any force that would dare try to rip the two of you apart.

And in his arms, you feel the safest.

“I’m very thankful, honey.”

Looking up at him, you tilt your head. “For the party?”

A soft smile. “Sort of, but I’m thankful for you the most. In this big, beautiful world, I feel as though I’m the contender for the luckiest, happiest man. All of my life, I dreamed of someone to share my life with, but what the heavens above gave me was something ten times, a hundred, a thousand... no, infinitely better.”

You blush.

“For as long as I’m alive, I want you to know I’ll take good care of you. I’ll see to your happiness, and see to it that you never regret nor forget a moment. So long as the stars are in the sky, I will be beside you, loving you so vehemently.”

There’s a tug in your heart. Then more - and all of them are more intense than the last. Almost as though there’s something Zen is trying to communicate.

He takes your hand, moving it to his lapel. “Love, tell me... What do you think these clothes are made of?”

Huh?

“Umm...” You tilt your head slightly. Then you remember, and smile. “Boyfriend material.”

A hot whir in your ears erupts when Zen shakes his head, and becomes worse at the sight of him lowering to one knee, reaching into his inside pocket and tugging out a small box, opening it at you.

“No... With your word, they will become husband material.”

#happybday_ZEN #mysmes #mystic messenger #zen mystic messenger #hyun ryu #i'm doing my best

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flyingthehedge · 6 years ago

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Seeking Your Animal Guides + My Animal Guides

After you have successfully traveled to the Otherworld, the next step is to seek your animal guides. These are the beings in animal form that will help guide you in your travels and aid in your healing and growth as a hedgewitch. Some hedgewitches consider their animal guides to be their familiars. This is a perfectly acceptable viewpoint, especially if you do not have a familiar within our realm like myself. I have three beautiful cats, but none of them are familiars, at least not yet. The verdict is still out on little Charlie as he is still a kitten and hasn't reached maturity yet. But I digress.

Animal guides sometimes referred to as a power animal or totem, come in many shapes and forms and can change over the lifetime of the witch. They can be birds, fish, insects, or mammals, but in general, they are wild animals, not a domesticated pet. However, it is not unheard of for a hedgewitch to have a dog or cat as their animal guide, but it is uncommon. Furthermore, it not unheard of for a mythical creature to be your animal guide, but again, this is rare because you animal guide will often appear within our realm to guide and assist you, and mythical creatures have a hard time passing successfully into our world.

Some say you choose the animal guide, but I have found that 99.99% of the time, the animal guide chooses you. Furthermore, an affinity toward an animal does not necessarily mean that particular animal is your animal guide. For example, my favorite animal is the maned wolf, but I haven't seen it show up as an animal guide, at least not yet. You may think your animal guide is a bear, wolf, or eagle (which most people tend to think because they associate animal guides with Native American culture), but your guide or guides may very well be a turtle, clownfish, ox, or rabbit.

What is an Animal Guide?

So what is the role of an animal guide?

1. They are our trusted friends. Your animal guides are there for you to lean on whenever you need them. They are there to help you answer questions, aid in magical workings, give you confidence, and stand by your side, no matter what you do because that's what friends are for.

2. They are our guides, NOT our controllers. You animal guide will never intervene unless your life is in danger or you ask for assistance. They are not self-seeking. Their role is that of a mentor; to advise and suggest based on their lifetime of experience.

3. They are our escorts in the Otherworld. Your animal guide acts as a travel guide through the Otherworld, keeping you safe in the process.

4. They are conduits; they help aid and direct our energies and channel the energies of the Otherworld so we may effectively see them. When you finally travel to the Upper Realm, your guides will help bring this realm into focus for you. Those beings operate on a much higher frequency so your animal guide will act as a mediator or translator to bring the picture into view for you.

5. They are our bodyguards. This is probably the most important role outside of being a mentor. Your animal guides will protect you, both in and out of our realm, from harm as much as they possibly can. There are hidden dangers in the Otherworld and it is imperative you not travel alone. However, that doesn't mean your animal guides won't allow you to suffer hardship; quite the contrary. Your guides will ensure your experience hardship, but only is it has something to teach us.

6. They are our caretakers, working to heal us, cleanse us of negativity, and even help to heal physical ailments. For personal experience, there is nothing that makes me feel better after suffering a bought of anxiety or depression quite like visiting my animal guides.

7. They are our instructors. Your guides are there to act as a teacher, not just a mentor offering advice. They will provide you with opportunities to grow as a hedgewitch and person, in a semi-controlled fashion. They will share knowledge and wisdom with you freely, although sometimes cryptic. If they do not know the answer, they will tell you so, but guide you down the right path to find the answers you seek.

Your animal guide is NOT:

a dictator

a slave or servant

a genie

a god

evil, self-seeking, or otherwise harmful to you

Our relationships with our animal guides should be treasured and nurtured, just like friendships within our realm.

Meeting Your Animal Guides

Meeting your animal guides for the first time can be quite simple, however, there will be times animal guides appear to you when you are not actively seeking them. Your animal guides reside in the Lower Realm, so this is where you will have to travel. If you happen to meet an animal outside of the Lower Realm, be cautious. They are likely not an animal guide, but on some off chance they are, they will appear to you in the Lower Realm another time. To meet your animal guides for the first time, set your intention for your journey as follows: "I will journey to the Lower World to meet my animal guide. I ask that may animal guide be waiting for me when I arrive at the Lower World."

The first time you do this, you may not meet your guides. It could take a couple tries to get their attention, especially if you are new to hedge riding. You may notice that your animal guides change with you. That's okay. The animal guides you have today may not be the guides you need in 10 years. You will also likely have more than one, each to teach you a different lesson. Be open and accepting of what they have to teach you.

My Animal Guides

I have briefly mentioned my animal guides before, but I figured I would give a more detailed description of them in this post, with their blessings of course. I have two guides: a female red fox named Meka, and a male raven named Rocar.

Meka is by far the guide that shows up the most. She is kind, loving, playful, and wise beyond her years. She is very motherly and extremely patient with me. Meka is often my transportation through the realms and has accompanied me on soul retrievals, chord cuttings, and general journies. Whenever I meet her, she greets me like a playful puppy, bouncing around as if its the first time she has seen me. It's a wonderful feeling to be with her; just thinking about her calms my anxiety and fills my heart with love. My favorite thing to do is lie with her in my Garden within the Middle Realm and stare up at the clouds. It's the most peaceful thing imaginable.

Rocar, on the other hand, is a completely different beast. He is loud, rude, obnoxious, and extremely sarcastic. He likes to pick at my hair and face and completely lacks the patience and grace of Meka. He likes to pick on Meka too, often diving down to peck her while we are together, then flying off laughing in a way only a raven can. But Rocar is a wonderful teacher and a reflection of myself. I too am loud, rude, obnoxious, and extremely sarcastic. Whenever I wonder what I am doing wrong, Rocar is there to be blunt and matter-of-fact. His lessons are hard-hitting but valuable. While Meka likes to avoid hurting me, Rocar knows that sometimes pain is the greatest teacher and he isn't afraid to use it on me.

At this point in my life, these are the guides I desperately need. Between my feelings of self-doubt and unworthiness, my divorce last year, and the financial and health struggles I have endured, I need someone to love me unconditionally and someone to smack some sense in me at the same time. You will find that your animal guides are there to meet your needs right now, in this phase of your life. Sometimes they are not the guide we want, but the guide we need. It is my greatest hope for you as a hedgewitch that you connect with your animal guides in a way that transforms your life. I cannot express enough how important your animal guides are to your growth and success and I sincerely hope that your experience is as magical as mine.

Interest in the rest of the series? Make sure to keep an eye out for upcoming posts!

Hedge Riding Series

What is Hedge Riding?

Realms of the Otherworld

Focusing the Mind: Getting Ready to Ride

Preparation + Hedge Riding Sachet

Hedge Riding Etiquette: Do's and Don't's of Interacting with Spirits

Hedge Riding Safety Tips: Staying Safe Outside Our Realm

How to Hedge Ride + Flying Ointments

Seeking Your Animal Guides + My Animal Guides

Developing a Relationship With Your Spirit Companions

After You Hedge Ride: Coming Back to Earth

My Hedge Riding Experiences

Looking for more information on hedge witches? Check out my posts on the topic:

What is a Hedgewitch?

Hedgewitch vs Kitchen Witch

Meditation, Pathwalking, and Hedge Riding: Making Sense of It All

#hedge riding #hedgewitch #hedge witch #witch #pagan #wicca #wiccan #animal guides #spirit guides #shamanism #hedgeriding #witches of tumblr

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benmiff · 7 years ago

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The Ghost And The Teacher

Shorter story this time around. Introducing some new characters (one of which will probably be somewhat important going on).

This story takes place between The Dress And The Ball and The Flame And The Worm.

Andreas

You would assume that I would have become jaded and accustomed to the repeated behaviours of those I have encountered across the long years, but it never ceases to astound me how many people elect to place their trust in me just because I happen to match their expectations for the appearance and bearing of an honourable and steadfast individual. Admittedly, their House loyalties run deep and often have not yet been weathered away by time or tragedy; most of them are young and hungry for any advantage no matter how slight to elevate their position above their compatriots, but it would not be all too difficult to realise that I am not the helpful House Opala tutor that I portray. Nor am I the helpful priest who sets other ghosts to eternal rest with the aid of my prayers and divine artefacts, and I am most certainly not the kindly old man that just happened to be passing and witnessed whatever latest tragedy has befallen yet another victim, helpfully explaining just what I heard and saw. A few carefully chosen questions would soon reveal me, but no-one even thinks to ask, considered that since I am present I must clearly belong there since if I did not then I would not be in attendance.

Perhaps I am being unkind. My abilities are admittedly not the most conventional, even amongst those of my kind; we all share some similar advantages apart from mortal folk, not least our not being restricted by corporeal form. So very many spirits are obsessed with their death or their emotions or some other unfinished task, after all, and I do not behave in the traditional manner associated with such haunts. My talents in life proved themselves numerous times before lords and ladies possessed of razor sharp powers of scrutiny and deduction, and even before my death I could appear in the guise of any role I chose thanks to a combination of skilled disguise (achieved through both mundane means and a limited amount of alchemy) and my talents as an actor. I never did achieve a full transformative thanks to insufficient time to truly refine the alchemy required, and that still rankles, but now I have all the time in the world to complete my research even if my death has imposed additional obstructions in my path that I must overcome first.

My greatest obstacle was the lack of a proper body, for holding a form other than the one given me by my death was quite tiresome and could only be done for a few hours before I would be forced to revert. Such limitations were why I had agreed to aid my master with the interminable task I now found myself committed to, and I found myself yet again projected myself in solid form in much a similar manner as many other nights over the past fortnight. (I would not be so idiotic or desperate as to attempt to bind myself inside a body – that way laid only madness and decay, at least with the current understanding of binding.) This time, I had taken the identity (and life) of a kindly dwarven lady who I had named Jorrea, and once again I had discovered another promising young gentleman and animist suitable for the experimentation we wished to carry out; promises that I would teach him secret techniques that would advance his comprehension of animating inert cloth and metal were all it took to bring him under my wing once we explained that we kept such things secret to avoid the risk of any rival stealing them. House Opala’s speciality in animated embroidery meant such individuals were not uncommon or particularly troublesome to find; each of them jostled for position, demanding a display of astonishing brilliance or skilled manipulations if they were to rise above the masses clamouring for respect from their betters. Such an environment was perfect for me and my work; the constant self-promotion made it easy to spot a promising candidate, and I could easily pick between the prospects to find those who were willing to endure a little risk and a little danger if it meant that they could leapfrog their rival apprentices.

My latest “apprentice” went by the name of Tallis, and in the short time I had known him he had showed himself to be in most respects a competent student; he stayed attentive to whatever I told him no matter how dry the material, carrying out any further study I assigned him between our lessons promptly and without complaint. His family was not all that important, some minor name whose only real claim to any significance was a family tradition for the illumination of texts; we had been careful not to choose anyone too important so that we did not have much risk of being noticed by any interests that would prove dangerously powerful. Still, it meant he had a grounding in the magical principles involved thanks to having helped at home as he had grown up with some of the simpler moving calligraphies; it was these skills that he had brought to clothing in an attempt to expand the fields in which the family was known. It was a commendable initiative doomed to failure; he did not have the natural talent and unique creative spark to force such a shift solely by himself, and he certainly did not have the charisma and force of personality to lead others to support his striving towards greatness. I had been given further orders by my master, and we were approaching what was likely going to be the height of his capabilities and the denouement of his study.

“Tallis,” I said, limping into the room as my portrayal of Jorrea always did, a simple carved oak walking stick (for I was not stupid enough to risk iron of unknown manufacture) supporting me as I went. Tallis was busy working as he often was this late into the evening, the room lit only by guttering candles that cast shadows across the cloth figure he had prepared. It was a fine piece of work with carefully stitched edges and skilful fine detail to suggest at musculature, but the lad did not trust himself, and I had little doubt that he had already spent many hours poring over it for signs of failure and corrections he would need to make before he presented it to me. It was too late for any further alterations as soon as I had arrived for we needed to move onto the next stage of the work; Tallis knew it even though his heart still troubled him that there was some error he had overlooked and so with difficulty he stopped fiddling with the figure and turned to me to present the work.

“It’s not quite right, is it?” he asked, concern plain on his face.

“It’s absolutely fine. Cease worrying and come – we’ll need space for this binding,” I replied, leading him out of his cramped study into a nearby workshop, now empty with its workers home for the night. We had more room here and could both get around the table, though I would only be guiding the boy – he would do all the work himself. Reaching down into a “pocket” that was merely part of the guise I was projecting, I plucked the small fetter I had been carefully carrying and placed it on the table in front of Tallis, careful to shake off any lingering ectoplasm before he got a proper look at it.

Tallis knew exactly what the corroded dagger was, but his timidity meant that he still felt compelled to ask, uncertain of his own knowledge. “Is that the fetter? What kind of ghost is it, exactly?” he pried, poking at it with one of the cutting tools still left on the table as if touching it would let the spirit bound within free reign to act against him in some manner. He had no real way of knowing his concern was wasted – my master had previously commanded its ghost to sleep, not wanting a vengeful spirit to cause any unpredictable results that might distort the results of our experimentation. I tapped it with a finger, safe in the knowledge it was only a cheap tin alloy of iron rather than the cold forged iron that would pose a danger to me, and allowed a small smile to creep onto my face before I explained.

“It’s a minor spirit of the vengeful type, not uncommon after a murder in the back alleys. It has sufficient strength for our purposes, and it’s better for your first practical lesson to use as weak a spirit as will achieve the desired effect. Have you got the restrictions prepared?” I asked, and Tallis shuffled a number of his papers in response, pulling out the relevant stack and setting them by the table. Each page was covered in line after line of spidery script, and each needed to be cut in strips and be woven into the binding, preventing the spirit from lashing out and harming him. No-one had yet written a binding that would allow a spirit the right mix of independence and restraint to create a bound animate that could carry out assassinations or other such deeds, for the ability to kill or harm others unprovoked gave the inhabiting spirit too much free reign to assault its owner as part of whatever task they were initially given. Despite that, not all violence was impossible and we intended to skirt the edges of what was feasible; defensive violence was much more achievable even if one had to be very careful in how one worded the various restrictions. It was still worth treating any such animates with the utmost care, however, and one needed to keep in mind various considerations such as not letting any pets near the defending animate; animals were easier to harm within the usual restrictions that were in common use, and several promising researchers in the early days of the spectral sciences had been permanently persuaded to choose a safer discipline when they discovered loved cats and dogs nailed to their workbenches or torn apart and strewn across their libraries.

Despite the pressure that such things were sure to be exerting on him and his nervous disposition, Tallis worked diligently in laying out all the binding materials, and soon had the fetter sympathetically linked across a number of arcane bonds that would be used to draw the spirit into the cloth figure and out of its fetter. I think he was more afraid of disappointing me than of what a failed binding would mean for him, concerned I might leave and he would return to being just another unknown. The restrictions he had written seemed sound, shaped by my advice to get them in the form we wished to test that night; I am by no means a skilled ectomancer but I had been told what to look for by my master, a man who does possess such a distinguishment. One last check, and then we were ready for the dangerous part of the rite – the transfer of the haunting spirit itself.

As soon as Tallis started to activate the bonds, the ghost inside the dagger woke up and flowed into existence above the table we were working on. He had died exceptionally violently, dozens upon dozens of stab wounds all over his manifested form, and he roared in anger and reached to us, his fingers morphing into daggers that were replicas of the one that killed him. Before he could even begin to draw close, the restrictions lit up and glowing script flowed off them and around him to restrain him against the table; he struggled furious against the magic, pushing and wrenching at the text and contorting his shape as he writhed against the magic but all to no avail as the bindings stopped his breaking free. Our spell’s beginning had delivered a shock to his existence that penetrated through any simple magic such as the spell keeping it asleep, and Tallis was now committed to finishing the binding successfully if he did not want the spirit to break free and tear him apart. My apprentice gripped the table, clearly under strain from the ghost’s rage and resistance; my master had deliberately chosen quite a weak spirit to bind, but even weak spirits had impressive willpower and Tallis was struggling to keep all the limits he had woven intact and fulfilling their purpose. Small strips of paper wound around the dagger and the cloth figure each held a single limitation, scribed to be identical and paired across the two items; the arcane lettering chaining the ghost still had one end of each piece of writing in each of the slips of paper, and as Tallis struggled the first pair of paper ribbons disintegrated into dust and drifted away, their associated chains shattering and casting glowing letters that faded as they crossed the room. He was clearly losing his battle, and the rate at which his restrictions were breaking was only accelerating, more pieces of paper becoming nothing but fragments of fibre drifting on the eldritch energies crackling around the table.

It was obvious that Tallis was lost, and with that clearly it was time for me to leave and to return to my master waiting with my fetter a couple of streets away. Such losses meant little, as everyone involved in our venture except for our “apprentices” knew that we operated this way so that any failures would only harm the latest fool we had swindled into taking the fall for us; we could feel safe from any of the wider repercussions as well as any unleashed vengeful ghosts would be a problem for House Opala rather than us given our home was several districts away. Returning was not difficult even with the magic sparking around the room, for my fetter was my home and what kept me from moving on (or so my master had explained to me when he had explained how I did not really have a choice in carrying out his orders now he had woven his commands into it.) I merely blinked out, reappearing next to the fetter, but I did catch sight of Tallis’ shock in the last couple of seconds as I faded away; I think the surprise and the realization of betrayal was the last strike, for all the rest of his restrictions turned to ash at once as I went.

- - -

Lord Keppington

My spirit returned to his fetter a little after midnight, much as expected. Andreas was one of my more useful servants, and had been in my possession for many years; most would have been repulsed by his vile appearance but I could see past such things to the value beneath. In his innate form he was monstrous to behold, manifesting as a poisonous rotting figure that constantly flowed and shifted between all the different people he had pretended to be in life, bubbling flesh and running humours all contributing to the overall effect that proclaimed he was long dead and had died poorly. I turned the glass vial that was his fetter over and over in my hand; he had been obsessed during his life with being able to be anyone he wished to be, and this had led him to drinking poison in the erroneous belief it was an elixir that would let him shape shift freely. That obsessiveness had bound his ghost to the now empty vial he had drunk from, and made his strong without condemning him to a single overwhelming emotion that would have inevitably led to madness. He obeyed me from the magic, of course, but he had retained his intelligence and I liked to think he obeyed me because he wanted to as well; I had promised him that our research would one day result in techniques that would grant him a proper body once more, his need to prove his talent demanding that he show he could also sculpt corporeal form. I had little doubt that day would be unlikely to come, as binding a ghost into something meant that they served only because they had to – the pain of being forced into something that did not fit you right and then being denied any ability to strive towards whatever animating will or desire brought you back meant that all such bound spirits were little more than hateful intelligences consumed with an urge to be free and an urge to punish those responsible for or complicit in their binding or failing that anyone else within their reach.

We had returned to my house exceptionally late, given we had around an hour of walking before we reached it. The house was nestled safely in House Borado territory, and I was deeply tired by the time we arrived; Andreas’ report could easily wait until morning, and I had no other urgently pressing matters to attend to. Still, some decorum was required, and I changed into nightclothes with the aid of one of my spectral servants before I settled into bed, fast falling into a deep restful sleep.

- - -

The news reached me early next morning, a missive from an interested friend prompting a ghost to wake me early and still slightly groggy to thrust the missive into my hand. House Opala had been struck once more by ectomantic treachery, with some young apprentice found in a workshop with a broken dagger and a torn cloth figure giving all the signs the investigators needed in order to declare it was a botched ghost binding that had gotten out of control. The fellow had been stabbed a grand total of one hundred and thirty seven times, and another three unfortunate victims had been found with one hundred and thirty seven stab wounds apiece as well; it was difficult to know which elements of their death the ghost I had chosen would fixate upon without seeing it in action, but the precise count of stabbings was clearly the central element and would be how the investigators would track deaths to this particular haunt. Those in the know said that clearly the ghost had been a lesser spirit to have been stopped after only four murders, no doubt completely immersed in re-enacting its death and unable to comprehend reality; nobody had reported that they had stopped a ghost of such nature, though, and so the House had already called in specialists to deal with it when it re-emerged the next night for further killings, tied as it was to the night hours it had probably died in. There were mutterings about banning the binding of ghosts entirely once more, but I had little faith that it would ever get anywhere – House Opala had too many skilled animists, and those who dabbled in such things would not countenance a reduction in their capabilities just so that a few of their lessers could feel a little safer.

My House were a little disappointed in the results given that we did not develop our particular field any further; the experiment had failed without even a single binding faulty or otherwise to show for it. That said, we had sown some real difficulties for a rival, so talk soon pivoted to how we could take advantage; perhaps we could play on fears that House Opala was unsafe for new recruits as a means of stealing promising candidates away? Such discussions went on for much of the morning, and by the end of them any residual disappointment was mild and defanged of any real teeth. The talk around House Borado was that my position was still seen of value, and that there was no need for it to be downgraded following such a minor upset; my work was still held in respect by those who were permitted to know about it, and they made sure the rest of the House knew what I did was worthwhile even if they couldn’t share any specific details of what it was I actually did.

I retired to my private chambers to gather a more detailed picture of the night’s events before anyone else wanted to question me about my activities; it was a simple act of will to summon Andreas to me by his fetter, and he appeared dutifully as always. “Report,” I commanded.

“The spell failed, obviously. The apprentice was far too weak-willed, couldn’t hold even a minor spirit. The first few restrictions went up, and from there he had no control,” Andreas replied. “No information was discovered – the experiment did not run for a sufficient length of time to learn anything of any use.”

“I see. Unfortunate.”

I tapped his fetter absent-mindedly with a finger as I considered the next move to make; House Opala would no doubt be on their guard in case the dead apprentice was not the only one practising dangerous magic without proper supervision, but I wanted to get some reliable results by the summer and there were precious few weeks left before then.

“Find another apprentice. We’ll retry in a week.”

#dressverse #ectomancy #ghosts #binding #author:benmiff #character: andreas #character: telesforo keppington #character: tallis

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