#and other assorted golden deer

[crazy-only]

showing subby!yuki your favorite dessert !

pairing: subby!yuki x fem!reader

idea: golden retriever yuki follows you into one of your favorite dessert shops to taste the sweets; little does he know you have other plans for him. (*^^*)

creds: pretty 18+ divider by @anitalenia (you’re so talented omg !)

preface: omg bby is so freaking handsome i don’t know how to put it in words but like his face card is on another level ! (+﹏+) ugh wish he was mine. like look at that sweet smile ?? i think my heart just stopped.

“this one?” your boyfriend, yuki, asks rather cutely, his head cocking. he pointed to the street sign reading oscar’s pastries.

you nodded excitedly. “yep! that’s the store!” smiling back at yuki you grab his hand, his immediately wrapping around yours, and entered the shop.

“woah,” he mutters, brown eyes enlarging at the four-story sweets shop. “this oscar dude must be making so much money.”

you shrug, leading him to your favorite section on the first floor, saying, “perhaps. you should ask him.”

the two of you reached the taffy section, consisting of a large assortment of the sweet candies in the pattern of a rainbow, and you pick up a blue one. you unwrap the parchment paper and pop it in your mouth.

“wait! y-you’re supposed to buy it first, y/n!”

laughing, you simply shrug. “oops!”

yuki clings onto you, arm wrapped around your shoulders, as you make your way to the second floor, this one filled with gummies.

and, to yuki’s horror, you pop another unpaid-for candy into your mouth, this time a long green gummy worm.

“shit. y/n what if they kick us out?” yuki says, trying to hide his excited smile.

you boop his nose with a finger, saying, “maybe we’ll take a field trip to jail?”

yuki grins, never able to get bored with that unpredictable personality of yours. that’s one of the qualities he loved most about you.

after roaming around, you traveled to the third level, where chocolates and caramels filled your senses.

yuki’s grip on your shoulders tightened as a male employee stepped up, asking if you “needed any help.”

with his mouth in a straight line, yuki declined, “no. we’re perfect. her eyes are up here.” yuki pointed up to your eyes, clearly fuming at the employee.

the employee, able to recognize he wasn’t exactly welcome (and a bit embarrassed as well), scattered away to the opposite side of the floor.

you gulped at your boyfriend’s sudden feistiness, wondering how his pretty brown eyes could turn angry so quickly.

you also pondered how his dick would feel inside you.

“is this your favorite section?” yuki asked, noticing the wide smile on your face, yet oblivious to the reason behind it.

with a kiss on his hand you said, “not yet.”

yuki spotted his favorite chocolate, one with a fruity filling, and, with guilty eyes, popped it into his mouth. “mmmm,” he murmured, eyes closed in bliss.

your eyes, meanwhile, widened as your head went wild. the dirty thoughts finally stopped when he opened his eyes, nodding towards the candy, encouraging you to try one.

on the top floor, you and yuki wandered around until landing at the cake section, a boulstorous display of frosting available.

with a soft hum you dip an unused spoon (from the ice cream section you passed earlier) into a pink-colored frosting. “wonder what flavor this is,” you murmur to yourself before placing the doused spoon into your mouth.

you lick the spoon slowly, maintaining eye contact with yuki as you twirl your tongue around the frosting. “mmm,” you say, “so tasty!”

you smirk at yuki’s face, looking like a deer in headlights. “what happened, baby?”

his cheeks warm up, eyes moving between the spoon and your mouth in a silent explanation.

“ahh, i’m sorry. you wanted a taste?” you ask, leaving a ghost caress with your hand on his right cheek.

yuki only stood still, waiting for whatever plan of yours to flourish. it was quite often when you flustered the poor baby, yet he’s never really gotten used to it, always having to resort to the “freezing tactic.”

you pretend to be sad, lips in a pout. “damn, wish i had another spoon.” you step closer to yuki, cocking your head at his intrigued eyes.

with a smile you kiss yuki, prodding your tongue into his mouth and letting the flavor of the frosting reach his tastebuds.

you step away, playfully saying, “take a guess! what’s the flavor?”

yuki shakes his head as if he were in a daze. “um, think it’s, uh straw—wait, i need another taste.” he says the last part with a slight smile, almost as if he cracked the code to a safe or something.

with a planning smile you grab his sweaty hand, leading him to the bathroom.

“you asked me what my favorite section was,” you say, pushing yuki against the bathroom wall and closing the door. “it’s this one.”

you smash your lips onto his, the flavor of chocolate and frosting mixing so well. yuki groans into the kiss, making you only more desperate to deepen the kiss.

with a strong hand yuki grabs your waist, his other one going to your hair. he, just as eager (or, if anything, more so) swipes his tongue inside your mouth.

“comfortable, are we?” you murmur in between kisses, biting down softly on his bottom lip.

“mmmm,” yuki moans softly in response.

you chuckle, letting the man run his fingers through your hair as you lean on him, smashing him against the solid wall. “such a cute boyfriend i have.”

yuki gets shy, looking at the adjacent wall, hands, though, rubbing up and down your waist.

you kiss his neck hard enough to leave marks, aiming for the spots you know the press will find. “how did i get so lucky?”

yuki looks down at you, lovingly, and says, “i’m the lucky one.” he gently guides you to a bench in the large bathroom. “let me thank you?”

taken off guard you raise your eyebrows. “sure, baby. let me know if it’s too much, though, okay?” you knew yuki leaned on the shyer side when it came to intimate acts, so you always made sure he was comfortable with new things.

“okay,” he chirped cutely, making you smile at his innocence.

although the next thing he did was anything far from innocent, grabbing your shorts waistband and tugging it down to your ankles.

“fuck,” you curse, watching the boy leave kisses on the dangerous part between your pussy and thighs.

yuki, a bit concerned, looks up. “does it feel good y/n?”

“baby,” you murmur, a hand going to brush his cheek, “you’re doing great.”

your boyfriend, suddenly confident, moves his kisses to your clothed pussy, a happy grin on his face. his eyes shutter close at the taste of you, eyebrows scrunching in joy at the new taste.

“mm, this my favorite section,” he mumbles against your folds, the vibrations making you even wetter.

feeling hot you take off your shirt and watch as yuki’s eyes go wide.

“perv, don’t start acting like you’ve never seen them before,” you say as-a-matter-of-factly, removing your bra as well.

“i-it’s just, you’re so beautiful, y/n,” yuki says, a bit starstruck. he stares at you as he continues to tease your pussy, kisses all over the sensitive area.

you groan, muttering, “shit. so fucking cute, baby,” which only makes your boyfriend speed up his movements, adding nudges of his nose into the mix.

you grasp onto his hair, saying, “yuki, baby, remember what i said about telling me if it was too much?”

yuki hums, nodding as he became more and more drunk from your pussy.

you tug his dark hair, making him face you, wanting a verbal affirmation from him.

although it gives a different reaction than expected, as yuki groans from the tension in his hair, suddenly saying, “mmm,” his eyes lidded, as he stared into your eyes. “s’pretty, y/n.”

you try to hold it together as yuki’s shame went out the window, purely focused on pleasuring you (or was it tasting your pussy?). the man went down on you again, desperately removing your panties to get deeper in your pussy.

“taste so good, mmm,” yuki moans into your cunt, head bobbing up and down for the sole purpose of licking you dry.

you lean your head against the wall as yuki gently inserts a finger into you, feeling your gummy walls with wonder.

he licks his finger with a smile, and, having an idea, lowers his mouth against your hole.

yuki sends his tongue into you, causing your body to jerk at the sudden change.

you can’t help but quietly moan as yuki learns to hit all the right places, your eyes rolling back in estacy.

yuki’s desperate tongue fucks you to heaven. you grip his hair tighter, needing to have some support.

“mmm, y/nnn,” yuki whines, still fucking your pussy deliciously. “so hard right nowww.”

you pant out a laugh. “from the hair pulling, hmm, baby?”

“mmhmmm.”

fuck. the vibrations along with his tongue were just too much. you start rocking your hips, feeling your release coming, saying to your pretty boy, “be a good boy and i’ll help you?”

pleasantly surprised, yuki hums, “please, mommy.”

and with that nickname your eyes scrunch, rocking your hips sloppily against yuki’s cute face as you squirt all over it, surprising him in the process.

“baby’s never seen a girl squirt before?” you ask him in between fast breaths with a hint of teasing.

yuki shakes his head, entranced at your spasming pussy while he cleaned the cum off his face.

“should we see if guys squirt as well?” you half-joke, guiding your boy up gently by his arms.

“wanna taste you again, though!” yuki mumbles, licking his drenched fingers.

you scoff and, with a push, force him to fall onto the bench, back on the brown wood, his eyes large.

you straddle his lean hips, murmuring against his jaw while leaving kisses, “it’s my turn now.”

[taybatwo2]

Magic Mixling Review: Deerlee!

Guess who got her hands on Deerlee?? I did! I couldn’t find her anywhere in my area, nor any of my neighboring towns. After ordering her twice on Amazon, I finally got her (the first time was another Unia). She was the one I was most excited for too.

Here’s Deerlee with all of my other deer-esque dolls. Monster High Isi Dawndancer, Monster High Gilda Goldstag, Zelfs Talleen (she’s not technically a deer….but I wanted something else in the picture) and Manny the moose Zelf.

Here she is!! She’s super cute. She has a bunch of cute (I think plum) blossoms all over her, including her antlers.

More of her and other deer dolls under the cut!

As with almost all of the Pixlings, she has sculpted clothes (including gloves) and a “swimsuit” with the same theming. The knots on her top/boots/back of gloves remind me of pankou knots (I’m not sure if that intentional or not). It does bother me that her little tail is on the side. I need to make her a little tail like Winter and Unia.

Here are both sides of her shoes (she has hooves sculpted on the front).

The bottom has more plum blossoms, petals, and the Moose Toys logo.

Her hair is super soft by the way. It feels just as soft as the other Pixlings. She also still has some pixelization (but again, it’s not as distracting as Mattel’s printing). Her blushing on her nose and one side of her upper lip is a bit off, but not too bad. She also has a very cute assortment of freckles and petals on her face.

Oh! And her ears are fully sculpted to her head, they’re not separate pieces.

An oddity with Deerlee is her neck peg. It doesn’t seem to have any paint on it and it is very visible when she lifts her neck up.

Let’s briefly compare her to some of her deer attributes to other deer-like dolls (as I don’t own many of these and I do deeper dives into them on my other Pixling posts).

Her and Gilda both have deer-like ears sticking out of the side of their heads, pinkish hair, face spots, and light tan/gold skin (the darker tan on Deerlee is very similar to Gilda’s skin tone). Her antlers are much more like an antelope than those of a deer.

Gilda’s horns have more in common with Enchantimals: Gabriela Gazelle’s.

Let’s compare her to someone who has more deer features: Isi Dawndancer.

Isi actually doesn’t have attached antlers, and her ears are placed higher on her head; she does have lots of freckles/spots on her face though. To make up for the lack of antlers, she has some of the COOLEST FEET EVER! Take a look Deerlee!

Cute little hoofies!!! She’s actually the only one of these bipedal deer dolls that (were created) to have hoof feet.

Monster High had another deer-like character: Fawn, but she never received a doll. She has deer ears on the side of her head, no antlers, face freckles and she has HOOF FINGERS!!

Ever After High’s Dragon Games’ Deerla (a smaller pixie doll, ancestor to their Enchantimals’ line) has similar design elements to Isi, Fawn, and Deerlee:

Her skin tone looks very close to Fawn’s, she has freckles, and deer ears on top of her head (like Isi’s).

-I still can’t get over the two pairs of ears design choice-

……her antlers look really odd, like they have a main antler shape in there, but they added a bunch of random swirls to them as an afterthought.

Deerla passed down her golden ears, antlers and second pair of ears to her Enchantimal cousins.

Danessa Deer is one of the main cast of Enchantimals. She is about the height of Deerlee, has a similar skin tone to Isi, and once again has freckles.

Danetta Deer (-they seriously just took the two ‘s’s in her name and changed them to the next letter in the alphabet-) is on a much smaller Enchantimal body and basically looks like a smaller version of Danessa with a cuter face (in my humble opinion).

Rainey Reindeer has some impressive looking antlers. She has the lightest of freckles and she looks close to Deerlee’s skin complexion. Honestly, one of the cuter Enchantimals (maybe because her ponytail hides her human looking ears).

Nope, I lied. Queen Delilah has the most impressive looking set of antlers sculpted onto her head (for the Enchantimal line anyways). -someday she will be mine- She is eight inches tall. A tiny bit shorter than the Ever After High Pixies which were 8.5 inches tall, but she has more articulation: her knees! Not even Deerlee has that!

She looks to be the same color as Rainey and parts of Deerlee. Of course she has the freckles too.

The last Mattel line I’m going to look at are the Monster High Frightmares. Specifically the two “deer” looking frightmares: Fawntime Fallowheart and Meadoe Flurry. -two more deer dolls I desperate wanted but never bothered to buy when I had the chance!!-

They are 6 inches tall, have molded on clothing and down turned ears just like Deerlee! Their arm articulation is pretty limited, but they could move at the hip and neck. They have the cutest little molded deer tails!! And their bodies are giving me nostalgia for my G2 My Little Ponies. I think only Fawntime has freckles (and some unique branch eyebrows) and Meadoe has only powdered lavender/ periwinkle skin tone so far (and the most badass looking fantasy antlers). Okay! Onto MGA’s deer doll offerings.

-my holy grail- Novi Star’s Doe A. Deer! She has flocked legs (and I thiiiiink that’s all…which is a choice).

Her body is mostly white and her dress looks like something Fawntime would like to graze on, she doesn’t have any freckles (just some dot eyebrows, Gilda would be pleased), I don’t believe she has a tail, her ears look to be the same, but her antlers are wonderfully large.

Na! Na! Na! Surprise had a female and a male deer doll: Myra Woods and Donnie Ranger.

Both have the littlest of freckles, super detailed clothes (seriously, Donnie’s look amazing) and plastic horns stuck to their hats (both seem to be new sculpts too). For some reason, Myra’s sleeping bag’s antlers are set under her ears.

Okay! Onto another Moose toy!!! Zelfs!!! I have already said how much I love posing my pixlings with my Zelfs, but they are so cute together. Deerlee seems to like gossiping with Talleen and Manny.

Both of them have ears stuck to the tops of their head like Isi and the Enchantimals. There were two more deer themed Zelfs: Dorthy-doe (who looks a bit more like a pink Jack-a-lope than a deer) and another reindeer to join the herd: Rein-Doe. Both lack face spots and have different horns than Deerlee (although Rein-doe looks very similar - he even seems to have a flower theme too).

I had wanted to compare her with one of my Zelfs that had downturned ears (as what hers immediately reminded me of). Hmm, it actually looks like the Zelfs (this is Flitter by the way) had a little indent in there and Deerlee had thicker chunkier ears.

Anyways, not as deep as I usually go for over-views on dolls, but I’ll take some more photos of her after I give her a proper tail and paint some of the detail on her shirt and gloves. Did you guys have a favorite deer themed doll? Any of these on your want list? Did I miss any play line deer dolls?? She was super cute, and while I would still love for the line to give us knee articulation, more dolls with fully removable clothing, and the option to buy the dolls without the potion bottles (which are fun, but I am not going to be playing with them again). I look forward to trying to find the dragon and the fairy pixlings.

[africanotaku92]

Winter and Spring: A Story of the Four Seasons.

HI!! I'm Sorry i haven't been really writing in a while but!!! i wrote a fairy tale!! Or at least fairy tale-esque story. It was fun to write, (to tell you the truth i've been in a funk for a while.)

I take constructive criticism! Just be polite about it!

@jessesblogg @baaaa-king @omniithe-deer @jadenoryuu

inter and Spring: A Story of the Four Seasons.

Once, when the earth was young and the people new, there was a king named Summer. He was a wise and noble monarch, who lived in the Palace of Sky.  With his radiance he warmed the land, and with his wisdom, he gave council to the people. The King Summer had a daughter named Spring. She was a lovely young thing. Under the loving watch of her father, she danced on the fields of the earth, her joy and carefree nature giving reason for the  festive moods, her sunset dress gliding through the earth, bringing forth the most beautiful of blooms, and the bees she kept provided the sweetest of honey. She tends to the new mothers, who welcome their children in her domain. When she is finished her dance, she retires to the castle, were she will watch her father walk upon the earth, his golden robes ripening the wheat and other crops, giving console to the people, and watches over the young ones as they grow and renew the peoples. The people loved their King and their Maiden, and the father and daughter loved their people.

One day, Spring had decided that she would take her dances further than the fields in which she knew. She went and begged her father for a piece of the wind, so he relented and gave her. 

“This wind is a little weak, so it will only take you a bit further than you’re used to. If you stray further than you know, you must come back immediately. And beware  the Knight of the first, for she is a dangerous thing.”

She thanked her father, promising not to stray too far, then hopped on the wind and rode North. However, the wind was stronger than her father had said, as the more she rode, the less she recognised the land. She saw a dense forest, with trees taller than she could imagine, with some having their leaves an assortment of colours, and others with barely any or no leaves at all. The forest floor was covered in vibrant reds and yellows and oranges, with plants and mushrooms and animals she had never seen before, and the whole place smelled of fresh blood. She was so amazed by what she saw, she forgot her father’s instructions and rode on. Eventually, the wind had slowed, so she knew it was time to land. She landed in front of the largest oak tree in the middle of the forest, and at the base of the tree, lay a woman. 

Her crown was woven from bronze twigs, decorated with the fallen leaves and the seeds of trees. She wore a cloak and boots of animal hide and fur, covered in arrows and dyed red. Her tunic and skin made of the same brown of the oak. She was the most beautiful thing she had ever laid her eyes on. The woman then woke from her slumber, and got up from the base of the tree. Upon noticing her guest, she turned and with her head high, gave a demanding voice.

“Who enters the Forest without my permission? It is not yet my season, so who are you to walk upon so freely on my land?”

She curtsied. “I am Spring, daughter of the King Summer. I intended to go to the fields to the North, but I’m afraid that I strayed too far.”

The woman's eyes widened, and she quickly bowed. “My apologies, young Maiden. I didn't mean to be rude.”

“It’s quite alright, please rise. Though may I ask, who might you be? And why are you lying by this tree?”

She rose and replied. “I am Autumn, and my Forest grows and takes over the land when you and your father have gone to rest for the seasons. I am in charge of the cold North winds. I change the colour of the trees, and pluck their leaves once ready. I wither the crops of the last harvest and ripen others. I lead the Hunters to the best prey, and reap the spoils of the past seasons.I am the Knight of this land, and I protect the peoples in my domain. I was born of the mighty Oak and came to rest by my mother." She then bowed again.

“Young Maiden, your father must be worried. I will guide you back to the fields.”

She smiled, satisfied with her answer, and curtsied again.

“I accept your offer. However, I have one request for you.” She then extended her hand to her. “Grant me a dance!”

Autumn looked at the Maiden, dumbfounded. “Maiden, you truly are peculiar. Have you no fear of me?”

She smiled. “Noble Knight, you are kinder than your duties say. There is no reason to fear a heart who considers others. My original goal was to dance, so dance I shall. But, I'd much prefer dancing with a partner!”

The Knight was shocked, but she complied with the Maiden’s request. So they danced and danced and danced all day, all they way to the fields. Then she was given a piece of the North wind, and rose it home. From that day, the Maiden could not stop thinking about Autumn. Everyday, she would ask for the wind from her father, and everyday she would ride it to the Forest. Everyday, they had something to give each other, for Spring would bring forth strange, never seen before flowers and teach her how to play, and Autumn would gift her the finest furs and meats from hunts, and feed her the bounties of the Forest. And by the end, they would dance and dance until they got to the fields, where she would ride the wind back home. And, slowly but surely, sealed with a chaste kiss, Spring and Autumn fell in love.

Her father had been growing more and more suspicious of his daughter’s actions. So, when next she collected some wind, he secretly followed her, and what he saw filled him with fear and rage. He took the winds back home, and started plotting on how to separate them. He went down to Earth, and met a powerful witch called Koni living in a cave. He bowed to the king.

“Grand King Summer, Lord of all the lands, what can this humble servant do for you?”

“The Maiden Spring has been approached by and nearly sullied by the wretched Knight Autumn.  I need a solution to this problem.”

The Witch looked around the cave and took multiple strange ingredients. He made a potion with them, and gave it to the king. 

“Pour this potion onto the biggest fruit in the Forest. When it is cooked, it will become a powerful poison that will put her out of her right mind. The maiden will fear her, and she will come back to you then.” 

The king thanked the Witch and left. He snuck into the forest and found a really large pumpkin, and poured the potion over it. The next day, when Spring and Autumn were together, she harvested the pumpkin, carved it and roasted the seeds. She gave Spring the seeds, but after she ate four of them, she lost her reasoning and all her memories of Autumn, and she ran away. She chased after her, wanting to know what was wrong, but as they reached the fields, the King Summer took his daughter and forbade the Knight from entering his domain. 

“Wretched fiend! You have poisoned my daughter, and sullied her mind with your lies and deceit! For as long as I say, she will never see you again!” and with that, the king left.  His daughter, who had heard all the commotion, became sick and fell into a deep slumber.

Swallowed with the grief of her love taken from her, the Knight fell and 

Cried. For seven days and seven nights, she cried, and her tears caused a great flood on the earth, splitting the land apart and causing vast oceans and rivers to form. Then, as quickly as it consumed her,  her grief turned into icy, hollow rage. Her heart became harsh, cold and uncaring, losing the very nature that made Spring love her. And with the bitter frost having overtaken her heart, so too did it overtake her appearance. Her hair, once fluffy and brown, now grew long and bleed white. Warm, soft green eyes now turn hard, icy and blue. She trudges the earth on the long, suffering journey to the Palace of Sky, her boots bringing death and starvation to the masses as she kills the harvest and makes the game flee, and her cloak of stars leaves the world a trail of ice and frost  in her wake, her mournful wails bring about the North wind, who only feels her rage, and brings merciless blizzards. And with this new form, she was also granted a new name: Winter, the Prince of Snow, Harbinger of Death. 

The people had not known such suffering before, and so pleaded with King Summer to help stop it. The King went out and saw Winter on the horizon of the fields, and demanded she stop. The newly formed Prince scowled, and then spoke in a stern, cold voice, one that even shook the king to his very core. 

“ I will not end this suffering, nor will i ever forgive you, for your greed of love  has blinded you to the happiness of others. For as long as she does not return to me, I will not relent. No crops shall grow and the animals shall remain in hiding. The sun will bear down but no warmth will come. The people shall suffer and they will have their foolish king to thank for it. “ and with that, the Prince turned and left.

For four months, the hellish season continued. For four months, the people suffered, and for each month, Winter came back to demand for the Maiden, with which she was always declined.  The King grew more anxious by the day. Eventually, he had had enough, and went back to the Witches cave and asked for a cure. The Witch instructed him this:

“Find four items that has survived the wrath of Winter. Bring them to me and i will make them into something that your daughter can take. It will weaken the poison, and then she will be able to lift the curse of Winter.”

The King then made a degree to all the land in search of the ingredients. Soon, three warriors came back with their prizes: the firm skin of a fish that still swims in the frigid cold, the spun sugar from the juice of a crisp Apple that grew in Winter, and a singular Rose that bloomed through the snow. The fourth and final item was a lock of his daughter’s hair, which had not been affected by Winter at all. He brought them back to the Witch, who created a soft, sweet jelly wrapped in a thin piece of skin and tied with Spring’s hair. 

“Feed this to both your daughter and the Prince, if there is forgiveness in his heart, the curse will be fully lifted. However, if not, then the Maiden will fall asleep every time for the same number of days each year.”

The king took back the jelly and fed some to his daughter. She woke up and, having regained her memories, immediately demanded her father to take her  to see the Prince. She saw how different the world had become, and was deeply saddened by the pain her beloved was suffering.

The Prince saw her beloved in the fields by her Forest, and rushed to meet her. The reunion between her and her beloved was enough to melt the frost in her heart. And they danced in each other's arms, laughing wildly and clinging to each other so as not to lose each other again, the frost melting and the plants blooming with each step they took. 

The king bowed his head to the returned Knight and offered him the jelly, but the rage in her heart burned fiercely and refused to forgive the king. He hung his head, fully accepting the shame of what he has done, and is said to still beg for forgiveness till this day. 

So it is said: That Spring Dances the fields and brings new hopes and beginnings, That Summer Governs the world and brings a time of wisdom and gain, That Autumn Hunts the Forest and dances with her love, and brings happiness and abundance, and when Summer ends and Spring falls into a slumber, Winter brings survival and longing.

[tajmirror]

Golden Triangle Tour with Ranthambore Tiger Safari: An Unforgettable Adventure

Introduction India is a nation of many cultures, rich legacy, and amazing natural beauty, and one of the finest ways to explore this diversity is with a Golden Triangle tour combined with a thrilling Ranthambore Tiger Safari. The Golden Triangle of India comprises three of the most renowned cities—Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur—each rich with historical landmarks, architectural wonders, and unique experiences. But imagine finishing off your cultural journey with an exhilarating tiger safari in one of India’s most recognized wildlife sanctuaries. This perfect blend of history, culture, and wildlife makes the Golden Triangle with Ranthambore Tiger Safari an irresistible adventure.

What is the Golden Triangle? The Three Iconic Cities The Golden Triangle refers to a prominent tourist route in India that connects three important cities: Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur.

Delhi: The capital city, noted for its blend of old monuments and modern attractions. Landmarks such as the Red Fort, Qutub Minar, and India Gate offer a look into the rich history and diverse culture of the city. Agra: Home to the world-famous Taj Mahal, Agra is a must-visit location for history enthusiasts and romantics alike. Agra Fort and Fatehpur Sikri are also amazing sights to explore. Jaipur: Known as the Pink City, Jaipur is known for its beautiful forts, palaces, and colorful markets. Don't miss the Amber Fort, Hawa Mahal, and City Palace for a real Rajasthani experience. Historical Significance of the Golden Triangle The cities in the Golden Triangle are connected by centuries of history. Delhi served as the capital of many empires, Agra was formerly the seat of the Mughal Empire, and Jaipur was the capital of the Rajputs. This triangle of towns offers a fascinating trip through India’s royal past and the architectural magnificence left behind by emperors.

Ranthambore Tiger Safari: A Wildlife Enthusiast’s Dream Overview of Ranthambore National Park Ranthambore National Park, located in the Sawai Madhopur district of Rajasthan, is one of India’s largest and most known tiger reserves. It is a site where environment lovers and wildlife enthusiasts can watch the majestic Bengal tigers in their natural habitat. The park also contains different landscapes, including forests, lakes, and old ruins.

Wildlife Experiences at Ranthambore While the tiger is the main attraction, Ranthambore is home to an assortment of other wildlife species. The park offers exhilarating safaris where you may view creatures such as leopards, deer, wild boars, and numerous species of birds. The park is a treasure for nature lovers and photographers.

Famous Tigers of Ranthambore Ranthambore is famous for its tiger population, and some tigers are so iconic that they are called. For example, Machli, one of the most photographed tigers in the world, became a symbol of the park. Visitors to Ranthambore typically expect to catch a glimpse of these legendary tigers during their safari.

Other Wildlife Species to Spot Apart from tigers, Ranthambore is also home to several more amazing species. From the elusive leopard to the spotted deer and the marsh crocodile, the park offers a vast diversity of creatures that make every trip unique.

The Perfect Combination: Golden Triangle + Ranthambore Tiger Safari Why Combine These Two Experiences? By combining the Golden Triangle with a Ranthambore Tiger Safari, you get the best of both worlds: the cultural richness of India’s great towns and the excitement of a real wildlife encounter. This combo allows you to tour ancient palaces, forts, and monuments, followed by an exhilarating safari in pursuit of India’s elusive tigers.

How to Travel Between the Destinations The best way to travel between these sites is by rail or private automobile. The Gatimaan Express is a popular choice for traveling between Delhi and Agra, while private vehicles or trains can be used to reach Ranthambore and Jaipur. The distances are modest, and the gorgeous vistas make the travel enjoyable.

Day-by-Day Itinerary for Golden Triangle with Ranthambore Tiger Safari Day 1 – Arrival in Delhi Your tour begins in the bustling capital city of Delhi, where you will be greeted by a representative and driven to your accommodation. After some rest, explore the prominent attractions including India Gate, Qutub Minar, and Lotus Temple.

Day 2 – Exploring Delhi Start your second day with a visit to the Red Fort, followed by a journey to the Humayun Tomb. Don’t forget to see the colorful marketplaces at Chandni Chowk before heading out for a fantastic meal at one of Delhi’s finest restaurants.

Day 3 - Delhi to Agra: The Majestic Taj Mahal In the morning, go to Agra to view the majestic splendor of the Taj Mahal. Explore Agra Fort, then complete the day with a visit to Fatehpur Sikri.

Day 4 - Agra to Ranthambore After breakfast, head to Ranthambore National Park for your tiger safari trip. On arrival, check into your accommodation and enjoy a relaxing evening.

Day 5 - Ranthambore Tiger Safari Today, take a thrilling safari in Ranthambore. Spot tigers, leopards, and other animal species in their natural habitat.

Day 6 - Ranthambore to Jaipur In the morning, go to Jaipur, the Pink City, noted for its beautiful palaces and forts. Visit the Amber Fort, Hawa Mahal, and experience the busy bazaar.

Day 7 – Exploring Jaipur On your last day, see the City Palace, Jantar Mantar, and enjoy some local shopping before your departure.

Best Time to Visit the Golden Triangle and Ranthambore Ideal Season for the Golden Triangle The best time to visit the Golden Triangle is between October to March when the temperature is milder and more suitable for sightseeing.

Best Time for Wildlife Safari in Ranthambore The greatest time to visit Ranthambore for a tiger safari is between October and April, when the weather is dry and wildlife sightings are more frequent.

Tips for Making the Most of Your Golden Triangle Tour with Ranthambore Safari Booking a Guided Tour Consider booking a guided tour for a flawless experience. Local guides provide in-depth knowledge about the locations you visit, enriching your trip experience.

Safety and Wildlife Conservation Always observe safety recommendations while on the safari, and be mindful of wildlife. Protecting the tigers and their environment is vital.

Packing Tips for a Comfortable Journey Pack lightweight, comfortable clothes, sturdy shoes, sunscreen, and a camera for documenting memories. Don’t forget your binoculars for the safari!

Conclusion The Golden Triangle Tour with Ranthambore Tiger Safari is a great blend of India’s rich cultural heritage and exhilarating wildlife activities. Whether you’re admiring the Taj Mahal or experiencing tigers in their natural environment, this tour delivers memories that will last a lifetime.

[indiatajtours]

Golden triangle tour with Ranthambore by India taj tours Company.

Embark on a journey: Golden Triangle Tour with Ranthambore by India Taj Tours

Introduction Welcome to India Taj Tours Company, where we encourage you to experience the magic of the Golden Triangle with the wilderness of Ranthambore. Join us on an incredible adventure through Delhi, Agra, Jaipur, and Ranthambore, where you will learn about the rich history, cultural legacy, and natural beauty of these great cities. Day 1 Highlights: Arrive in Delhi, India's dynamic capital, and proceed to your accommodation. Spend the day at leisure, seeing the lively markets and historical sites of Old and New Delhi. Day 2: Delhi Sightseeing Highlights: A guided tour of Delhi's prominent landmarks, such as the Red Fort, Jama Masjid, and India Gate. Explore the architectural treasures of New Delhi, including Humayun's Tomb, Qutub Minar, and Lotus Temple. Day three: Delhi to Agra. Highlights: Depart from Delhi and see Agra, home to the stunning Taj Mahal. Visit the Taj Mahal, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and admire its stunning splendor at sunrise or sunset. Explore the magnificent Agra Fort and other historical sites in the city. Day 4: Agra to Ranthambore Highlights: Travel from Agra to Ranthambore, a popular destination for wildlife and nature aficionados. Arrive at Ranthambore and settle into a wildlife resort. Take an amazing safari trip through Ranthambore National Park, which is home to a vast assortment of wildlife, including tigers, leopards, and unusual bird species. Day 5: Ranthambore Safari Highlights: Spend the day visiting Ranthambore National Park during morning and afternoon safari drives. As you travel through the park's deep forests and stunning landscapes, you'll see majestic tigers, graceful deer, and other species in their natural habitats. Capture amazing images and make unforgettable experiences in the unspoiled environment of Ranthambore. Day six: Ranthambore to Jaipur. Highlights: Depart Ranthambore and travel to Jaipur, commonly known as the "Pink City," which is famous for its historic forts, palaces, and colorful culture. En route, stop at Fatehpur Sikri, the abandoned Mughal capital and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Arrive in Jaipur and settle into your hotel, leaving the evening free to enjoy local markets and food. Day 7: Jaipur Sightseeing Highlights: Explore the architectural treasures of Jaipur, including the Amber Fort, City Palace, Hawa Mahal, and Jantar Mantar Observatory. End your journey with a memorable cultural experience that includes traditional Rajasthani dance and music performances. Conclusion The Golden Triangle tour with Ranthambore by India Taj Tours Company combines cultural exploration and wildlife adventure, giving you the best of both worlds. Allow us to accompany you through India's breathtaking landscapes, dynamic cities, and pristine wilderness, creating memories that will last a lifetime.

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The Xbox Showcase 2024 is a highly anticipated gaming industry event in which Microsoft's Xbox division presents its most recent developments, game titles, and innovations to the gaming community and enthusiasts worldwide. As of my latest update in January 2022, no particular details about the Xbox Showcase 2024 were known, but based on previous showcases, we may anticipate a great lineup of announcements and disclosures.

Key Expectations: New Game Titles: The Xbox Showcase is often used to reveal new game titles, such as exclusive Xbox platform releases and third-party collaborations and partnerships. Console Updates: Microsoft may use the showcase to announce gaming hardware updates, including as new console models, features, and enhancements. Technological Advancements: The showcase may feature advancements in gaming technology, such as visuals, gameplay mechanics, and immersive environments. Studio purchases: Microsoft has been actively purchasing game development companies in recent years, and the showcase may contain news of new studio purchases and partnerships. Cloud Gaming: With a rising emphasis on cloud gaming and subscription services such as Xbox Game Pass, the showcase could highlight developments and expansions in cloud gaming options. Past Showcases Previous Xbox showcases were notable for their high-energy presentations, which included trailers, gameplay demos, and developer interviews. During the showcase, Microsoft frequently emphasizes its commitment to gaming diversity, inclusion, and community engagement by highlighting initiatives and programs targeted at fostering a dynamic gaming community. The Xbox Showcase allows Microsoft to communicate directly with gamers and enthusiasts, gather input, and engage in debates about the future of gaming. Conclusion The Xbox Showcase 2024 promises to be a fascinating event for both players and industry insiders, providing a glimpse into the future of gaming on the Xbox platform. The presentation, which will include new game launches, technology breakthroughs, and community involvement activities, is guaranteed to build excitement and expectation for the next chapter in Xbox gaming.

Stay tuned for more updates and announcements leading up to the Xbox Showcase 2024, as Microsoft continues to push the boundaries of gaming and entertainment.

[projectlandscapeltd]

Top Parks to Visit near Calgary

Calgary, the vibrant city nestled in the Canadian province of Alberta, is not only known for its bustling urban life and skyscrapers but also for its proximity to breathtaking natural beauty. Surrounding Calgary are numerous parks that offer a perfect escape from the city's hustle and bustle, allowing visitors to immerse themselves in the serenity of nature. Whether you're a nature enthusiast, an adventure seeker, or simply looking for a peaceful retreat, these top parks near Calgary are must-visit destinations.

Heritage Park

An annual membership is the best way to see more, do more and get more at Heritage Park with unlimited access to the Historical Village and Gasoline Alley Museum. It only takes three visits and your membership pays for itself - and don't forget, you can put your daily admission towards your annual membership. One day at Heritage Park isn’t enough to experience everything we have to offer – so buy your annual membership today and get in on the fun!

Heritage Park Historical Village tells the significant and vital story of the settlement of Western Canada and how the unique western landscape formed the cultural foundation of who Western Canadians are today. Situated on 65 acres of rolling landscape, Heritage Park Historical Village is nestled on the banks of the Glenmore Reservoir with a breathtaking view of the majestic Rocky Mountains.

Griffith Woods Park

Griffith Woods Park is a primarily natural environment park that lies along the banks of the Elbow River in the southwest part of Calgary. This park is very large and is primarily a natural environment park. There are many trails throughout this park, both paved and unpaved, to explore. All of the trails at Griffith Woods Park are flat and easy to walk. The park is a great food source and habitat for animals of all kinds. While visiting the park, please be aware of your surroundings and take BearSmart precautions.

Griffith Woods Park lies along the banks of the Elbow River in the southwest part of the city. The park was created in 2000 and named after Wilbur Griffith who, with his wife Betty, donated a portion of their estate to The City of Calgary to be set aside as a nature preserve. Griffith Woods is habitat to a wide variety of flora and fauna including orchids, moose, deer, a variety of birds and its unique and sensitive natural spruce and balsam poplar forest. It is designated as a special protection natural environment park.

Granary Road - Farmer's Market & Active Learning Park

The Active Learning Park at Granary Road is a family destination like none other in Canada. 3 Kilometers of winding trails connect 36 acres of active learning fun and 11 exhibits that teach kids about animals, insects and agriculture while they’re having fun! Designed to thrill the imaginations of toddlers to teens the park features a giant spider web climber, in-ground lily pad trampolines, a huge 4-story ant farm, a gigantic fruit tree with the world’s largest corkscrew apple slide, a blind-as-a-bat maze, zip-lines and a working farm/petting zoo featuring our famous goat stampede, the new Golden Goat Bridge and our adorable alpaca!

Visitors will get an up-close look at your product offering as they weave through the market to buy tickets for the park and will see multiple vendor advertisements throughout the park and in the gift store. Plus, park visitors will receive rotating coupons for discounts to market vendors and other cross promotions to further drive parkgoers into the market. We strongly recommend that vendors include mom and family friendly products and price points in their assortments. This is going to be fun!

Weaselhead Flats

Weaselhead Flats lay at the mouth of the Elbow River in the southwest part of the city. The park was created in the early 1980s and occupies about 237 hectares. The origin of the name is uncertain but it is likely named after the Tsuu T'ina Chief Weaselhead who was in power at the time of European contact.

Along with the delta, the Weaselhead Flats contain a fast flowing river, the Elbow, which was once called the "Swift River". There are also "oxbow wetlands" which are formed when the river takes a shortcut, thereby isolating a bend. The bend is maintained as a wetland by spring flooding or rainfall. The cliff face on the north side provides an excellent view of the silts deposited on the bottom of "Glacial Lake Calgary", which covered much of this area at the end of the last glaciation.

The flats as we know them started developing in 1933 when the Glenmore Dam was created. Before becoming a park they were used by the military for training purposes. Evidence of this use, such as foxholes, are scattered throughout the park.​​​​​​​​​​​​

Project Landscape has earned its reputation as the best landscaping Calgary company Calgary by consistently delivering exceptional results that surpass expectations. Their team of experienced professionals possesses a deep understanding of the local climate and terrain, allowing them to design and build landscapes that thrive in Calgary's unique environment. With a commitment to using sustainable practices and cutting-edge techniques, Project Landscape ensure that every project is not only beautiful but also eco-friendly and built to last.

Project Landscape 3511 64 Ave. SE, Calgary, AB T2C 1N3 +1 403-257-4059 https://www.projectlandscape.ca/ https://www.google.com/maps?cid=11747008283103314784

[jghouse-asia-pacific]

New Post has been published on https://www.jg-house.com/2023/01/23/africa-palace/

The Africa Palace

The sun’s slanting rays, lighting up in golden tones every feature of the lush landscape, bathed the two levels of white stone which made up the palace and also the white stone of the other royal buildings lying on the northern edge of the park. The day was cooler now, but the warmth of the evening still could be felt, causing party goers to sweat in the twilight. An assortment of sounds, from raised voices and laughter to music, mixed with one another in strange patterns. The music which filled the warm evening air, Sylvere thought, was getting louder. It seemed to grow more urgent all the time. His eardrums ached; his feet began moving in time to a steady but occasionally syncopated beat.

Anna had made it easy for her guests to indulge. It was obvious she had spared no expense. It was a party few would forget.

Sylvere stood by himself on the terrace of the palace, a magnificent structure which had been erected in the late 1800s and now was known as the Africa Palace. He looked around, scanning the crowd and attempting to identify anyone he might know. At least two hundred people occupied the terrace and the adjacent area, the Welcome Pavilion. Perhaps another 300 people, possibly as many as 500, occupied other parts, including the banquet hall and theater, as well as different venues, such as the restaurant and exhibition halls.

Sylvere didn’t recognize anyone and studied the crowd. The men acted as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The women fawned over the men and laughed and drank among themselves, giving an impression of flippancy, even debauchery. Sylvere sipped lemonade from a glass he held in one hand. A sensation he was being watched came over him. He walked to the edge of the terrace. His new jacket, he realized, as well as his new shirt, fit him well, although his trousers were loose around the waist. The looseness was good, he thought. But certainly Chérubin had done an excellent job in commissioning a tailor in Tervuren to make a new suit for him, especially without his presence in the tailor’s shop or his knowledge of the tailoring job.

At the edge of the terrace Sylvere brought his lemonade up to his lips again. Facing the park, which opened before him in green splendor, he gazed at lawns and statues, pools of water and manicured shrubs before focusing, at last, on the impenetrable forest.

The view from the palace was impressive, much different from others he had seen in Africa, where no stone masons built Renaissance palaces and no gardeners maintained elaborate lawns.

A Woman in the Palace

An older image appeared before his eyes, however, a memory of himself lying on a stretch of hot asphalt near the Université de Kinshasa, struggling to re-gain consciousness. A police officer loomed over him, after striking him with a large baton. The officer was one of hundreds, perhaps thousands deployed by the dictator Mobutu Sese Seko to stamp out opposition to his rule. Dikembe, a fellow student, had picked Sylvere up off the ground and carried him into a store nearby. Dikembe was strong back then.

Now Dikembe was gone, killed during the last couple of days and already rotting in a mass grave in the volcanic fields outside Goma.

Blinking his eyes and seeing a statue of a deer in repose before him, Sylvere realized he didn’t want to be at the Africa Palace. He fought an impulse to dump his lemonade in the trimmed grass by the statue of the deer. He rejected the luxury and excess around him. He felt that everyone important to him either was dead or was threatened with death. He didn’t care about offers of assistance from Anna and Carolina and from Anthony and Bénédicte the nun. They all had a role in the Grand March to Death.

“I need to talk with Pépé,” Sylvere muttered in Kikongo. But his friend Pépé was far away. Where? In Goma? Was he even alive? Sylvere didn’t have an answer.

Sylvere turned to his left shifting his gaze to a statue of a man with a large dog at his feet. The statue, like the statue of the deer, made no sense. If nothing more, the remarks by the American journalist, Leon Johns, delivered in the hotel room two hours before, heightened his sense of alienation. At that moment, Sylvere detected shadowy figures approaching from his left. They stopped two meters away. He turned and saw an elderly, African couple.

“Bon soir, Sylvere,” an old man said quietly. “You don’t know us,” he added speaking in French. “We wanted to introduce ourselves.”

Sylvere stared in disbelief. He had never seen the man before. But the man knew him.

“I am here before you today because of Anthony Lukambo,” the man said looking into Sylvere’s eyes. He spoke now in Lingala. “Whatever else you may have heard about Anthony, you should know he has helped many people.” He glanced at his wife. She replied also in Lingala, “Ten years ago, Anthony saved our lives and the life of our daughter, now a nurse in Paris.” Almost immediately the elderly couple disappeared. But a second, although younger, Congolese couple replaced the first, and quickly proceeded to deliver a similar testimony.

The Palace Grounds

At the base of the stone foundation which supported the terrace looming ten meters overhead, an open, flat field of polished white pebbles extended southward perhaps 15 meters before giving way to a rolling meadow, a silent lake, and a dark forest. In the middle of the field of white pebbles, a tent had been erected, offering party goers a refuge from the crowds converging on the complex of royal buildings above. Inside the large tent made of a thin, almost transparent red fabric with only three walls, a narrow table extended the length of the eastern wall opposite a side open to the humid evening air. On the table rested a row of clear, glass jugs, each sitting on a copper stand and displaying a different liquid refreshment. Toward one end was a large number of short, circular glasses stacked upside down in the shape of a pyramid.

Soft, yellow light came from a lantern attached to the top of the tent.

Entering the tent from the west, Sylvere noticed a container of water with small slices of lemon floating in the water and a container of red wine with larger pieces of orange floating in the wine. He placed a glass in his left hand under the copper spigot attached to the jug of water and pulled the lever with his right hand. A jet of water issued. Quickly, Sylvere filled his glass and closed the lever. He looked to his left. Two couples in their 40s held glasses of wine. They were Flemish and seriously drunk. Sylvere looked away. He brought his glass to his lips. As he drank, he glanced toward the southeastern corner of the tent, where a gap was visible. Through it, Sylvere could just make out, in the twilight, a statue of a boy dressed in the attire of a hunter. It was a third art object which seemed out of place, each one more alien than the last.

“I trust you found the stories of our Congolese friends heartwarming,” a voice said in Lingala, causing Sylvere to turn his head in the direction of the voice. He recognized immediately the derisive tone and next the arrogant face of Serge Ntaganda.

With a rolled-up magazine in one hand and a plate holding several pieces of bread and cheese in his other hand, Serge smiled. In front of the small pyramid of glasses, he laid the magazine and the plate on the table, picked up one of the glasses, and, glancing at Sylvere, walked over to the jug of water. “Anthony has provided a comfortable life for our Congolese brethren,” Serge stated. “He has been very generous to Penelope and me as well,” Serge added. He didn’t look at Sylvere again. “Imagine what he could do for you,” Serge continued throwing back his shoulders and adjusting the collar of his crimson-colored shirt under his blue suit jacket.

People outside the Palace

Serge repulsed Sylvere. Not one of his words about Anthony Lukambo was true. Anthony was a gangster. Everyone knew.

“You,” one of the drunken Flemish men shouted approaching Serge and speaking in French, “aren’t you the guy who hit my car last night outside The Lodge?” It was a restaurant, Sylvere recalled, in the center of Tervuren just down the street from the restaurant, Het Park, where he had eaten dinner with Chérubin the night before.

“Sylvere, here is proof of Anthony’s generosity,” Serge added removing an envelope from a pocket of his jacket and, in one motion, depositing it in a pocket of Sylvere’s jacket. Serge moved past Sylvere and around the drunken Flemish man before disappearing through the gap in the tent.

“Wait,” the drunken Flemish man shouted following Serge but stopping at the gap. The man had witnessed Serge’s passing of the envelope to Sylvere.

“Let’s go, Eduard,” his wife said casting a glance at Sylvere, “we can’t associate with these people.” She took her husband’s arm, and the two of them started walking toward the opposite side of the tent and the warm evening air. The other Flemish man and woman, who appeared to have sobered up, stared at Sylvere for a few moments before walking away too.

Sylvere felt a wave of disgust wash over him. Ripping the envelope out of his pocket, he threw it to the ground, where it burst open, spilling a thick wad of bills onto the polished white pebbles. The breeze entering the tent from the west lifted up one 10,000-euro note, then another one. Within seconds, the notes had scattered in all directions.

Immediately the two Flemish couples re-appeared, rushing back into the tent, frantically scooping up the bills flitting across the polished white pebbles. Serge, too, re-appeared, stopping just inside the gap in the tent, staring at the scene. His jaw dropped, his head shaking. Then he disappeared into the night.

Quickly the two Flemish couples managed to collect all of the bank notes, stuffing them into the pockets of their clothing before getting to their feet. They seemed awe-struck as they looked into the face of Sylvere. They couldn’t believe he had just thrown away so much money, and then let them have it.

At that moment Sylvere’s other hand brushed against the other pocket of his jacket. With a sense of calm looking back at the Flemish couples, Sylvere removed a second envelope and brought it up to his face. It was the invitation to Anna’s party. When he extracted the white card with gilded words inside, he noticed the announcement of a dinner for selected guests at 8:00pm in the restaurant attached to the palace.

He looked at his watch. It was nearly 8:45pm. He was late.

***

#Africa, #AfricanStories, #Europe, #LifeCulture #Africa, #Art, #Beauty, #Culture, #Europe

[singingshutin]

Well, I tried.

I tried my darndest.

The result is mediocre at best, but have my best attempt at 'fixing' Ignatz's and Lysithea's support chain. I suppose I'd call this a B+ support with some light contextual padding involving the other Deer?

(I am so sorry Ignatz and fellow Ignatz lovers out there: writing this from her point of view made the most sense and each time I dissed my boy I felt it in my heart, dude. I'm in pain right now.)

hilda is his big sister and i will live, breathe, fight, and die on this hill

Read here on a03 or down below the cut-

Lysithea hates hot days. She hates the feeling of sweat trickling down her forehead into her eyes; hates the cloying smell of the candles in the entrance hall. She hates the constant bustle of the harvest, filling the monastery with crowds of new people who all - without exception - treat her like a child.

She hates that most of all. How anyone could stand being patronized and assisted at every turn, she didn’t know. To be treated as lesser. As weaker. That she could never understand.

As if on cue, the painter she doesn’t understand rounds the corner, and he offers her an all-too-cheery wave.

“Oh, hey.” She doesn’t bother to wave back. “It's you. Going for a walk again today?”

He shakes his head. “No, I'm on cooking duty today, and I have to head into town for some groceries.”

“All on your own?” Lysithea puts her hands on her hips. “Hm, I'd better go with you. I'd be worried if you went by yourself.”

“No, please! I can manage on my own.”

“But won't you have a hard time carrying everything back?”

“Not at all. I'll be fine. I'm just replacing a few ingredients. Also, I may not look it, but I'm actually quite strong.” He holds up an arm, pride beaming from his smile. “I've been exercising every day!”

“You're right-” Lysithea crosses her arms, “you don't look it. Your biceps are a fraction of the size of Raphael's. If you start fumbling around under the weight of all the groceries, and then you trip and spill everything everywhere…”

Ignatz’s arm and smile have both dropped. Lysithea shrugs.

“Look, I'm just saying, that could be your future. It could happen. It doesn't look pretty.”

He looks down toward his shoes. “That's what you think of me, huh?”

“Yep. You're honestly a bit of a mess.”

“I see.” The painter lifts his head. “If that's how you feel…”

Lysithea feels her lip curling up, and she does nothing to fight the disdain. “Oh, knock it off with the wounded puppy-dog eyes! As though I'm some sort of villain in your story…”

“I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention. I'm just a bit sensitive, that's all.”

Of course he is.

“You're talking like you don't respect me.”

Lysithea snorts. “I see. So now it's my fault? No matter how grown you seem to think you are, there's so much you're incapable of. You can play at being a mature adult, but it only ever complicates things. And that's exactly what makes you look like a child.”

“Oh, enough already!”

Lysithea has never heard Ignatz yell before. The sound is startling and shrill, grating in a way she never expected his soft voice to be. She’s never seen him angry before, either - his eyes hot and face flushed as he clenches his hands to his chest.

“Would you just leave me alone?!”

The boy turns and darts away- and for a moment, his eyelashes glitter with a wetness that wasn’t there before.

A long moment of silence hangs over Lysithea as she stands alone. Finally, words return to her tongue.

“Maybe I… went a bit far that time…”

She shakes her head.

“But he's so stubborn despite his ineptitude. I can't just leave it be. He's so foolish—constantly making a mess of things. Wait... But then... No matter how much we stretch, some things are always beyond us. I think it's fine to be vulnerable and ask for help sometimes. What he said to me before…”

She stops.

“To everyone else, do I seem just like Ignatz?”

Lysithea von Ordelia wasn’t in trouble - at least, not yet.

It seemed that despite Ignatz’s many shortcomings - the artist was indecisive, absent-minded, and woefully inadequate at any attempt to care for himself - he wasn’t a tattletale. Though, Lysithea thought, that probably had more to do with his scaredy-cat nature than anything else. The kid acted like a baby at the sound of thunder. The first and last time he’d ever been on a pegasus ended in an emergency trip to the infirmary when he’d panicked and flailed himself off the animal mid-flight, leaving him concussed, confused, and blind as a bat without his glasses - and the rest of class time had been wasted in a house-wide search on hands and knees in the grass for the blasted things.

Ridiculous.

But he would crack. Eventually, he would crack.

Lysithea sighed, leaning her head on her hand. At the very least, a good tongue-lashing from the Professor and Manuela would mean Lysithea wouldn’t have to sit with this strange heaviness in her chest anymore.

She could move on.

One day passed. Ignatz was nowhere to be found. No one said anything about it, not even the Professor. Leonie was put on cooking duty in his stead that night; at least she used less vegetables than her predecessor did. Still not enough sweets… but Lysithea wasn’t sure she had the stomach for cake today, anyway.

One day turned into two. Ignatz’s seat at the front of the lecture hall was still empty. The Professor reminded everyone to be careful- winter was just around the corner, she didn’t want to worry about anyone getting sick due to changes in the weather. Like always, Marianne excused herself after class- though Lysithea was pretty sure that the stables were in the opposite direction of the lower student dormitories. Where Ignatz’s room was.

Two days turned to three. Claude was sitting in Ignatz’s seat today, lounging comfortably like he had been in that spot all year. His own usual place next to Hilda in the back- well, the door creaked open a few minutes into the lecture, and Lysithea ducked her head to peek. There was Ignatz, somehow even smaller and paler than she remembered, being shepherded toward Hilda by an unusually solemn Lorenz. Hilda pulled him down to sit beside her and bumped her cheek gently against his shoulder.

Three days turned to a full week - and Lysithea realized she hadn’t seen Ignatz in the dining hall for a while. Raphael shrugged it off when she asked him why he was leaving the dining hall with two plates- one specifically full of his best friend’s favorite foods. As her fellow student disappeared out into the late morning, Lysithea found herself wondering how much of it Ignatz would actually eat.

Soon, an entire moon had passed. And still, no one had come to reprimand her for her outburst.

She hadn’t moved on.

Ignatz wasn’t in the library. He wasn’t in the stables. He wasn’t in the cathedral. He wasn’t in the training grounds, or the sauna, or market. The infirmary only held a tipsy Manuela, and the knight’s hall had an arguing Catherine and Shamir- but no sign of the be-spectacled artist.

At this rate, all the courage Lysithea had summoned over lunch was going to dissipate before dinner. She shook her head as she pushed open the door to the greenhouse-

"There you are!"

The boy crouched on the floor with a sketchbook jumped like he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning.

"L-Lysithea-"

"I've been looking everywhere for you."

It was ever so slightly, but Lysithea could still see it: Ignatz had paled at that statement.

"Ah," was all he said.

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two. The artist stared down at the ground, hunched over his sketchbook like he was hiding something naughty.

Lysithea took a step forward. "What are you drawing?” She tried. “Flowers?"

"I'm not drawing." He clutched the papers a little closer to his chest.

"You've got charcoal on your hands," she pointed out, "you've been drawing."

He gulped, turning wide, frightened eyes to face her.

"I- it isn't anything important."

"Can I see?"

"U-uh-"

He hadn't said no.

Lysithea walked over next to him, peering over his shoulder. He scrunched down a little lower, but his narrow frame couldn't hide the massive bouquet of flowers sprawled across the page. One huge lily was the centerpiece, entangled in a rich bundle of baby's breath and forget-me-nots. A doodle of a bumblebee, as fuzzy and soft and round as the real thing, sat sleepily on the lily's petals, resting delicate legs against the flower's elegant throat.

Lysithea's breath caught in her throat. "That's- really good."

"It's… not done yet." The boy fidgeted. "I wanted it to be finished first… before you saw it, I mean."

"Before I saw it?"

Ignatz nodded once, somehow shrinking even further into his uniform. "Lilies are your favorite, I thought, a-and I wanted to get it perfect-"

“They look done to me.”

"My shading isn't right-" The boy shook himself. "But- I guess that doesn't matter anymore."

Lysithea glanced up. Now was the perfect time to say it. She opened her lips; and all of a sudden, her mouth felt drier than the Sreng desert. The two were just staring at each other. Funny- Ignatz’s ears were bright pink, she noticed, the same color as the carnations behind him.

Then, like a water through a broken dam, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “I wanted to apologize- for yelling! I shouldn’t have yelled at you before-”

Lysithea's mouth dropped open and she stared at the red faced boy on the ground in front of her. He - Ignatz Victor - was apologizing to her - Lysithea von Ordelia?

Surely she had heard him wrong.

“That’s what the flowers were supposed to be for. And-" Ignatz dove into his bag, rummaging frantically, "and I asked Hilda what perfume she wears, and she helped me find some. It took a month for it to arrive in the caravan, but-"

"Stop it, Ignatz."

Ignatz froze, clutching the tiny crystal bottle to his chest. “S-sorry.”

"No, just-” Lysithea bit her lip. “Listen. Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

Ignatz stared down at the ground. "I just wanted to apologize properly."

“Oh, Goddess-" Lysithea pressed her palms into her eyes. "If you were literally anyone else, I’d think you were doing this on purpose.”

“Doing- what?”

She dragged her hands down her face and blinked at him through her fingers. "Just- piling on the guilt."

The painter blanched. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Stop saying that." 

Like magic, Ignatz fell silent.

Lysithea looked down at her hands. "Stop saying it, because… um…"

She swallowed hard.

"Because I'm the one who needs to apologize."

Her face flared hot at the look of shock on his.

"I- I yelled at you first. And- and I said some really… really awful things. To you. About you- just because I was mad. And- I felt like it, in the moment… I called you an incapable child."

He winced.

"And-" she pushed on, "and I was going to let it go. I was going to let it sit and not say anything because, surely, the Professor would find out and scold me, and then I'd be done. But that didn't happen."

There was the apology, forming on his lips; she cut him off before he could start up again.

"And it's good that it didn't happen. Because I would have forgotten it. Like a child, I would have let it go- when… a real adult would say sorry."

She took a deep breath.

"And I am. I'm really, really sorry."

He stared at her, his brown eyes like saucers in his thin face.

Lysithea's heart sunk into her shoes. The thought hadn't crossed her mind until now, but- he wasn't going to forgive her, was he? 

She deserved that, she supposed. After all she'd said-

"...can I still give you the perfume?" Ignatz held out the crystal bottle with a shy smile. "I won't use it… and I'd like you to have it. As a token of- my forgiveness? Though…" He flushed. "That sounds silly- a token of our friendship."

A wave of relief crashed into Lysithea's knotted stomach and she smiled back, reaching for the pink vial. "Thank you."

Ignatz paled as she pulled away. "Wait-"

She looked down. A dark line of charcoal was smeared across her little finger, right where her hand had brushed his.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Stop it." Lysithea rubbed her hand on her dress. "See? Gone. Can't even tell against the black uniform."

She dropped to sit next to him, and her hair fell over his shoulder. Normally, she would have avoided sitting that close to anyone- it made her look even smaller by comparison. But today- today it would be okay.

He tapped his paper. "I still want to finish this before I give it to you, though."

"Can I watch?"

"Oh- um…" He blushed. "If you want to. I'm not sure it'll be much fun-"

"I'm too tired for fun right now, I think."

They smiled at each other.

"Me too."

The two sat in silence as Ignatz's stick of charcoal slid across the page with a gentle scratch- but this was different than before. This was mutual. Comfortable. Calming and soothing in their togetherness.

A little thought bubbled up in Lysithea's brain.

"I've been thinking." Lysithea turned to look up at the boy sitting beside her.

His hand paused and he tilted his head at her. "Yes?"

"Maybe… maybe I should try something new. Something I'm- not… good at… right away. And- and learn how to accept help."

Ignatz shifted slightly. "...I could teach you how to paint."

Lysithea looked up. "Huh?"

"I could teach you how to paint," Ignatz repeated, pushing his glasses up his nose with an excited twitch Lysithea hadn't seen in a long, long time. "If you wanted to, of course, but for something new- something different… something I can help you with-"

He stopped, a blush shooting up his neck into his cheeks.

"Not that I think you'll be bad at it, I just meant-"

"I think I'd like that."

Lysithea smiled.

"Thanks, Ignatz."

It’s been a while.

Lysithea looks up at Ignatz’s bedroom door. She can hear him on the other side, humming pleasantly to himself as he muddles about the room. He’s got a nice voice, she thinks. It isn’t clear and full from years of training like Manuela’s, or bright and soaring like Hilda’s. It's soft, and a bit wavery on low notes, but it's warm and sure. Like an old, familiar hug after a long journey.

She puts her hand on the door, and it gives beneath her fingers.

“Um, hey…”

“Oh! Lysithea.” Ignatz turns with a smile. “Something I can do for you?”

“Can you help me out with my shopping?”

“Yes, of course. You need me to carry stuff?”

“Actually, can you pick up some tea for me? I'd do it, but I'm drowning in work.”

”You're so busy you can't go shopping? OK. Do you have a favorite kind of tea?”

“I'm not too picky. I just like having it around, really. Whatever's cheapest works for me." She holds out a palmful of gold. "Here's some money.”

Ignatz doesn’t accept the coins. “One question. Why me? You don't really need my help for this.”

“I just thought I could lean on you a bit. You know,” a smile creeps across her lips, “rather than trying to do everything on my own.”

“Right. I see. Well, good! I'm glad you decided to approach me.” That old familiar blush crosses his cheeks. “Ah, but, for this particular task, you might be better off doing it yourself.”

“Oh?”

“There are so many different kinds of tea, and I'm not very discerning." He rubs a hand against the back of his head. "What if I get you one you don't like? When I do my own shopping, I pick a tea at random. Otherwise I'd be paralyzed by all the choices. It's the same with food. Sometimes I stare and stare at the options and never decide.”

That, Lysithea thinks, is a burden I can take off his plate- and put some cake on it instead.

Aloud, she adds,“You looked like you were just fine when you went to get groceries the other day.”

“I really had to push myself to do that alone. I don't think I can do that again.” His head dips ever so slightly. “Sorry…”

Lysithea pockets the gold with a half-smile. “Aha. So you've stopped trying to do things on your own, then?”

“Yeah. Still, though…” he looks around the room. “For today, how about you have some of my tea? If that'll do…”

“Sounds nice, sure. Do you mind brewing mine while you're at it?”

“OK!” He grins. “Though I can't do it as skillfully as Lorenz, I'm afraid. I'll get it ready right away. Feel free to start focusing on your work.”

His smile still has a hint of the nervous boy from years earlier. He hasn’t changed completely.

Lysithea smiles down at the worn carpet on his floor. “Heh.”

Ignatz tilts his head at her. “What?”

“I mean," she glances up at him, "you seem plenty reliable to me.”

“I do? Really? How so?”

“You're fun, you're easy to be around, and you rarely complain when you help others.”

Ignatz chuckles. He has a pleasant laugh; gentle and sweet. “Well, I'm just pouring you some tea. I'm not sure that qualifies as ‘help.’”

Lysithea isn't going to let him deflect praise this time. She leans forward, an insistent gleam in her eyes. “It's not easy for me to rely on people, but with you, it's different.”

“Well, there aren't many things I can do, frankly."

Lysithea furrows her brows at him with an exaggerated frown. He laughs outright at that, raising his hands in a gesture of placation.

"What I can do, I will do! So if you need anything, ask me, and I'll try to help.”

Hmph. Verbal praise does very little for her artistic friend, it seems. If he won't take it, then-

She sighs.

Ah, well. What was the harm in one childish action?

Like a cat, she pounces. She throws herself at him, squeezing his ribcage as tightly as her weak arms could manage. 

This will have to do.

“You really are unreliable, as it turns out!" She laments,"Guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”

Ignatz laughs again- and this time the rumble in his chest tickles against her nose. A gentle pressure slides around her waist: it's his arms, she realizes. Strong despite their slenderness, he's returning her embrace. He's hugging her back.

Lysithea can't stop the hot flush of embarrassment. This is so undignified. So immature. So unlike the perfect image she has worked so hard to cultivate.

And yet, she thinks, she doesn't really mind.

[72stars]

(cw: dead animals) stick a fork in it I'm done with it time again, haaaa

at-least-one-doodle-per-chapter-(and-paralogue) personal challenge for my 2nd Golden Deer/Verdant Wind run, continued!

autumn interlude! the Golden Deer and co. help out with winter preparations around Garreg Mach. also, Wyvern Moon, so wyverns!

[sixteenth-days]

From the Archives Masterpost: Updated AGAIN

so yeah it's been a BIT since i made a new masterpost, and there has been so much since then. so let's do this again from the top!

The art masterpost is now here, I had to put it in a Google Doc because it hit a limit for links.

THE MAIN FIC SERIES:

Test Recording: One, Two, Three: The newly hired Archivist familiarizes himself with his office.

The Statue Garden: Statement of Cleo, regarding a book of statuary.

Werewolf Games: Statement of Scott, regarding a camping trip and a disappearance.

End Condition: Statement of Scar, regarding his death.

Elephant's Foot: Statement of Zedaph(?), regarding a mousehole in the wall of his lab.

Stargazer: Statement of Pearl, regarding her dreams.

The Anniversary: Statement of Lizzie, regarding a wolf in the woods.

Blight: Statement of Shubble, regarding a disease in her family's crops.

The Not Deer: Statement of False, regarding the disappearance of her roommate, Gem.

The Joe Hills Podcast: Statement of Joe Hills, regarding his own backstory.

Slumber Party: Statement of the collected Archival staff, regarding a night spent in the Archives.

Supplemental: Moonsick: Supplemental audio to Slumber Party, recorded by Pearl, never archived.

The Art of Escape: Statement of Ivory, regarding an escape from solitary confinement.

Red Light, Green Light: Statement of Grian, regarding the deaths of twelve people in an incident that never happened.

Skittering Things: Statement of Stress, regarding a bug.

Assorted Supplemental Recordings: A collection of bonus recordings appended to formal statement files.

Research Questions: Statement of Impulse, regarding an encounter with the entity known as Zedaph.

Immersive Storytelling: Statement of Ren, regarding an ARG.

The Wastes: Statement of Cub, regarding a book of poetry.

Golden Eagle: Statement of HBomb, regarding the actions of his friend False during a group tag game.

Ornithology: Statement of Grian, regarding... feathers.

Supplemental: PTO: Supplemental audio to Ornithology, recorded by nobody in particular, never archived.

Camera Obscura: Statement of Martyn, regarding something that was watching him.

Concerns from the Academic Record of Mr. Tango Tek: Statement of a professor of architectural design, regarding his concerns about a particular student.

Freezing Point: Statement of Scott, regarding a problem with his house's heating.

Gelatinization: Statement of Jevin, regarding a cookbook.

The Vigil: Statement of an unknown traveler, regarding a monument in the desert.

The Vital Importance of a Good Night's Sleep: Statement of Bdubs, regarding his problems sleeping.

Deckbuilding Basics: Statement of unnamed, regarding an encounter with Beef, a trading card collector.

Ad Astra: Statement of Grian, regarding a visit to a certain library.

OTHER FICS NOT IN THE MAIN SERIES:

Interlude from Another Reality: Taxidermy: A pair of scenes in a timeline where Joe's the Archivist, and everybody else is shuffled around too.

mouse hole/black hole: A character study of AU Zedaph, making heavy use of formatting fuckery.

Beautiful Things: Likewise, a character study of AU Stress.

[yeojaa]

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud.  Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or:  Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing.  tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  slice of life fluff, light smut.  explicit (but only at the end). 

tags / warnings.  mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc.  7.6k.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​, @papillonsgf​, and @yeoldontknow​​ 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note.  i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this.  it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless.  as always, feedback means a lot! 

You and forethought aren’t close friends.  You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree.  You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is.  Careful consideration?  Thoughtful patience?  None of that exists for you.  At least, not when you really, really want something. 

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.  

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this.  Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid.  By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.  

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment.  Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to.  When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed.  (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right? 

“Everyone’s fully booked.”  The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial.  (You don’t blame her.)  By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal.  You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue.  “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice?  Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable.  Well-known.  Considered one of the best in the city.  Surely their apprentice would be fine.  Just less seasoned, not as experienced. 

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter.  “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall.  “Last room on the left.  His name’s Jungkook.  His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.”  It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves.  Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told. 

“Jungkook?”  There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight.  (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.)  It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else. 

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting:  one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits.  Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine.  A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall;  one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it.  There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath.  All in all, very homey.  Reminiscent of your own apartment.) 

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space.  “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples. 

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for.  Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.  

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe.  It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin.  “Are you okay?”  He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way.  Good for him, but worse for you. 

He’s so cute.  Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.”  You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete.  “Um— I was told you might have some time?  For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering?  You’re never shy.  Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess.  People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!”  Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder.  He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway.  “Yeah, I’ve got time.  Come in.”  Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek;  the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip;  each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks.  “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no.  You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook?  He was that.  In spades. 

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”  He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table.  It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display.  “I’ve got a pretty big selection.” 

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him.  This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation. 

“So—”  He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen.  You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt.  It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion;  it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles.  He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling.  The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity.  “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.”  It really is.  You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink.  “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question.  Of course it did.  It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally.  “Like crazy, but it was worth it.  This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—”  He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.  

“A piece of cake?”  You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you.  (It doesn’t.  You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap.  “Do any of these interest you?”  He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash.  There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf).  They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.”  It catches your eye more than the others have.  Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines.  A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do.  “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.”  He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled;  you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion.  A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen.  “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy.  Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no.  You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.  

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though.  You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it.  You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life.  There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,”  you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.  

“Do you have your ID?”  You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form.  “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come. 

Alone, the nerves set in.  You’re actually doing this.  Getting a tattoo.  Putting something permanent on your body.  It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap.  Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come.  (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.) 

(But had you really made up your mind?  Was this going to be it?  It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise.  It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!”  Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope.  You eye it curiously.  “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”  

He’s really thought of everything.  Or the shop has.  Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?”  It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand.  (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.) 

You hadn’t thought about that.  You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away.  “My arm?”

“Upper?  Forearm?”  There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative.  He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you. 

“Tricep area, I think?  Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.”  Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same.  “I’m kidding.  That was cheesy.  But I’m sure it’ll look fine.  We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?” 

“That sounds good.”  A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement. 

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake:  wearing a turtleneck.  “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like.  Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon?  Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)? 

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule.  Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside.  Whatever you’d prefer.” 

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill.  You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.  

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way?  He was probably desensitized.)  

“It’s fine.”  You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly.  Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though.  Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater.  It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath.  Two. 

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him.  “All right.  Let’s do this.” 

“So, which arm?”  He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.  

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello. 

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers.  You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.”  It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror.  “It’s so pretty.” 

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face.  “Thanks.”  He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful.  “What do you think?”

“This is it.  Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool.  As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee. 

“All right.  We’ll shave you down and get started.  You like the colours, right?”  Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart.  It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes.  (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.)  He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him.  “Hop on up.  Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace.  It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.  

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?”  You’d misheard that, right? 

“Your skin.  You’re sparkling.”  He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.  

“Oh.”  Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly.  “It’s my soap.” 

“Sparkle soap?”  Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure.  He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before.  (Which, fair.) 

“It’s this specialty holiday soap.  It has pigment in it.” 

“That’s cool.”  He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm.  “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree.  It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does.  Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot.  “Thanks.” 

“Was that weird?  I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.” 

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.  

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle.  “Ready?” 

Honestly, you’re not sure.  Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog.  Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue.  “I think so.” 

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee. 

“All right—”“  The incessant buzzing stops.  Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel.  “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you.  Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.) 

“Can I see?”  You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face. 

“Yeah, go ahead.  Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right.  You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet.  It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you. 

“Careful!”  It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.  

“Sorry, sorry.”  You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede.  Everything straightens out quickly enough.  “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?”  He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall.  “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art.  “I’m fine.”  That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.”  The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open.  Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words,  “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention.  It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours.  It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.  

“You like?”  

“I love.”  You’d stare at it for hours, if you could.  Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie.  “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head.  Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose.  Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into.  “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one.  It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink.  (You half expect him not to answer;  you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.) 

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.  

“So, what’re you thinking?”  

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking.  Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history.  You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece.  “A sleeve?”

That surprises him.  His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously.  “Like, a full sleeve?”  It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable.  “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high.  “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,”  he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea.  “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.”  He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up.  For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing.  (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.)  “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan.  It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there.  He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.  

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”  

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions.  It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin.  A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep.  Another takes up the entirety of your forearm.  There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi.  It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.  

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch.  You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.”  Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap.  “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers.  Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat.  He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up.  Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.  

“You mean we did it,”  you return, giddy like a child.  

“Ah, right.”  The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled.  “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey!  Screw you!”  You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.  

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more.  It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head.  Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow.  You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm.  That in itself had hurt like a biiitch;  you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?”  He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to.  It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.  

“Yes, you are.”  You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares.  This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together.  (Not that you’d complain.  You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful.  “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration.  “You wouldn’t dare.”  You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.  

“Wouldn’t I?  I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”  

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed?  You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation.  Had he mentioned it previously?  Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain?  No, you would’ve remembered that.  You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.”  How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea.  You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway.  Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago.  (God, your memory is good.  If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.)  “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.  

“Gonna miss me?”  

Would it be inappropriate to say yes?  Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question.  You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).  

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own.  “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,”  he answers, offering honesty to your reticence.  “You can still send me funny photos though.”  

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile.  “I guess you’re right.  Will you still be tattooing?”  It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know.  You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.”  Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin.  “Actually, where I got most of mine done.”  You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith.  He’s finally come full circle.  You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.  

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to.  It wouldn’t feel right otherwise.  “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,”  he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair.  It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn.  “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,”  you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder.  You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go.  It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk.  “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”  

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you.  It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available.  (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.)  “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black.  You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.  

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?”  He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to.  (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?)  “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended.  “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”  

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you.  “Hey, I don’t judge.  You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there.  Used your own impulsive history against you.  “I would never.”  

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what?  Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him.  “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth.  There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up.  You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”  

“Really?”  You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face.  “Then why don’t you have one?”  He has a million others as it is:  a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs.  (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)  

“And hide all this?”  One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home.  “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual.  “But I’m cuter.  It’d be a shame if it were me.  You…”  The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean.  (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.)  “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”  

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him. 

“I’m kidding.”  You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries.  A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke.  “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them?  Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was.  Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met.  It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?”  The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.  

Were you?  You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really?  You can’t?”  You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it.  But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously.  It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears.  “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”  

Had he?  Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall.  Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of;  accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff).  Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought.  You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,”  you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.  

“I think you’re cute,”  he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff.  The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week.  The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb.  (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer.  “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.”  Where the confidence comes from, who knows.  You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering.  It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits. 

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go. 

Then he does the last thing you expect:  shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.  

(His lips are so soft.  A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate.  Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him.  French fries and beer and his Chapstick.) 

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.) 

“You just kissed me.”  It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.  

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.”  Speaking the words into existence feels bad;  you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.  

“I am.”  At least he’s realistic.  It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay. 

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose. 

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.  

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next.  (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass.  Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers.  An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,”  the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials.  You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation. 

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof.  The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin.  You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous.  It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left. 

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed.  He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders.  You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,”  he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity.  It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,”  you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped.  You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was.  As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though.  You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow.  He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?”  You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder.  Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again.  (You’re proud of that.  It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”  

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine.  You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness.  Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad.  Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around.  It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper.  He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror.  “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals.  Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care.  Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre.  You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life.  It means so much - like progressing to the next level.  

Which, you suppose it is.  This is a fresh start for you.  A new beginning in a new city.  

“Proud of you,”  he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips.  He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.  

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago.  A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,”  you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.  

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual.  “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that.  You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome.  From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.  

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this:  a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had;  to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.  

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that.  Made it worth it in ways you had never considered.  Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?”  He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself.  It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.  

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.”  The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?”  You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets.  It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that.  He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.  

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised.  “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?”  Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job? 

(It truthfully could be.  You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.”  All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine.  “You don’t like when I admire my own work?”  Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit.  The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need.  (Because you really do need it.  You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.)  It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once. 

“Kook,”  you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.”  He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin.  They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas.  A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care.  Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits.  When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”  

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt.  “I’ve missed this,”  he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.  

“Missed you too,”  you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.  

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​​​ @codeinebelle​ @xjoonchildx​

[superdraconic]

hello my dear, dusty tumblr blog. twitter owned by em is awful to contemplate and i miss finding good shit and tagging it to revisit later. so ya hello, i’m coming back to tumblr to scope out the fandom scene.

go by super nowadays, retiring the name of rush. currently i’m into:

genshin: loves the concept of gods walking among us as well as elemental powers and the different nations. music is also v good.

mxtx: canon overt gays, with tons of fun tropes and drama and humor

2ha: absolutely feral for cwn’s sluttiness

fe3h: golden deer, yuri, sylvain, lysithea

sheith: sheith

and an assortment of other fandoms and aesthetics

i do still like homestuck

i’ve literally been tumblr blind for years, so if any of my old mutuals from years ago are still actively around, feel free to hmu and tell me how you’ve been. otherwise, hallo! what’s good.

[hollyhomburg]

Reasons Wretched and Divine (Part 3)

↪ Genre: hybrid au, polyamory au, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, pregnancy 

↪ Pairing: dog hybrid! Namjoon x Reader x Golden Retriever! Jimin 

↪ Summary: You live on an isolated but sprawling farm with your abusive husband. But things start to change for the better when you adopt a retired police dog hybrid named Namjoon. 

↪ Tags: Mentions of psychological abuse, physical abuse, concussions, hurt/comfort, hybrid mistreatment, Jimin is a little hopeless, first time saying i love you, heavy kissing/touching over clothes, pregnancy, overprotective namjoon, romanticized farm life.

↪ Song rec: Zero o'clock ~ BTS

↪ W/c: 5.9k

🐾    PART 1   🐾   PART 2  🐾

- Taehyung’s smile, waiting to welcome any hybrid to the farm and offer them a bunk and a cup of tea or coffee, does wonders for your retention rate at the farm.

- Pretty soon more hybrids are staying more nights or asking you how long they can stay. And you always reply “as long as you need too” (though there are a few who just only stay a few days to rest and recuperate and then move on, the deer hybrids are particularly nomadic) but the bunk beds in the first finished barn fill up over the course of the first month. 

- It's you who has the idea to put up ads in newspapers and at bus stops for humans who want to help hybrids but can’t take any in. You get quite a few calls from people who have seen their neighbors beating their hybrids, or who have found injured hybrids along the road. 

- You even get a call from a hospital at one point. Pet stores call too- having picked up hybrids from the streets, or have hybrids that have grown too old- haven’t been adopted after a few months or like they call it ‘excess stock’. Even though it seems horrible to think of them that way, to most of the world hybrids are little more than possessions.  

- You and Namjoon always drive and pick whoever it is up rain or shine. You get calls in the middle of the night and have to leave immediately despite the fact that you’re getting more obviously pregnant day by day, and your baby bump fully visible to outsiders, unconcealable under all but the baggiest of shirts. 

- Namjoon’s slowly growing collection of red flannel shirts (really he only likes the red ones) is your favorite thing to raid on the days that you’re feeling particularly self-conscious about your body. And it always makes your puppy a certain kind of needy, wanting to have you close always (which is a plus, not that you’d ever tell Namjoon what his whines do to you) 

- When it comes to giving up unwanted hybrids, Very few people argue with the crazy pregnant lady and her intimidating hybrid with the scarred face. And if they do argue, a stack of money is usually enough to convince even the most reluctant of people to part with their hybrids. 

- The most you’ve ever had to pay an owner to give up their already unwanted hybrid is around 1,000 dollars, and too you- they’re worth much more than that. to see the way they change when they suddenly find themselves safe for the first time in their lives- it’s priceless to you and namjoon. 

- It breaks your heart when you take them home, and the first few days, where they watch everything like it might disappear, when they walk on eggshells of their old lives, so worried that they’re going to be thrown out. When they hoard food worried it’s going to be taken away, flinch at every raised hand. it breaks your heart, but it also makes you feel accomplished when they slowly start to heal, start to laugh louder than they ever have, start to joke and play over meal times, seak you out for a reassuring heat pet. 

- And although you hold more than a dozen certificates of ownership at a time, you’re clear to any hybrid that walks onto your property that they’re their own person, that they owe you nothing and that their freedom and autonomy will be given the second they ask for it. 

- No matter who they are or where they came from, their age, what kind of ears they have on the top of their heads, they are given a bunk, a fresh change of clothes (or two) and at least 2 meals a day. though- mealtimes are easily the hardest part of your operation and the thing that gives you the biggest headache. Making sure you’ve made enough food for everyone after the bunk beds fill up very very quickly when word starts to get around in the stray community. 

- luckily- you had the forethought to expand your kitchen, and now you have 3 ovens, a larger than average dishwasher, 2 sinks, and industrial-sized refrigerators in the cellar. Meals become the most important and most involved part of your day. You’re thankful that a few of the hybrid who has come to stay with you- particularly the cat hybrids, seems to have a knack for cooking who often let themselves into the first level of your house before the sun rises- their nocturnal inclinations useful for once.

- it’s quite the shock, the first day you walk downstairs at 6am, intent on starting breakfast, only to find 3 cat hybrids- one arrived yesterday- a middle-aged forest cat with little tufts on the end of her ears named Heesun, who is already pressing a warm cup of tea into your hands and telling you to sit down. The rest of the cats buzzing around your kitchen, the smell of frying vegetables and eggs already tickling at your nose. “are you sure you’ve got everything?” 

- “of course! when the others told me that you usually cook the food in the mornings- i didn’t think that was right you see- you’re doing so much for us here- let us do this” you watch as she divides labor, the other two cat hybrids following her lead, you ask, and the hybrid tells you she used to be a cook for the family she used to live with. you don’t ask what emancipated her out of their care, Heesun had shown up on the edge of the farm yesterday with a noticeable limp. 

- It’s not surprising to you that after a few days Heesun asks you if she can become a permanent resident of the farm. Any hybrid is free to leave when they want but most choose to stay and contribute. It’s a little surprising, the first day you walk out your front door to find one of the hybrids sweeping up some leaves, or when one of them comes to get Namjoon’s help repairing the side of one of the barns.

- At first- both of you are adamant apposed to them helping, but Taehyung helps mediate between the main house and the hybrids in the barns. And the 10 or so that have stuck around who express to you that it would make them feel more comfortable staying here if they could help out. 

- And it’s not like you don’t need the help- because really, as the population of the farm exceeds 20, you really really do. 

- They mostly run the chore system themselves, Namjoon and Taehyung keep a running list of chores that need to be done and guide a few groups in the morning that want to work. All hybrids who stay contribute in some way, Weather that is with the bunny hybrids that run around doing laundry and sweeping, and cleaning to their heart's content or the bear hybrids led by Taehyung. Everyone has their jobs. 

- You have three bear hybrids in total, Tae, a small honey-colored bear named Beomgyu, and a panda hybrid named Jackson that help you collect the honey from beehives and sell it at the farmers market. Though Taehyung manages to eat more honey than they sell somehow and is constantly scolded by both Jackson and Namjoon (Even if the beehives where his idea). Most of the time when you see him- Tae has sticky cheeks.

- But Namjoon will basically let Taehyung get away with anything, seeing as the hybrid contributes the most to making the farm run smoothly. Taehyung is always egger to help you with anything that needs to be done unable to keep still. Whether that be runs to the store with you to buy mountains of food needed to feed everyone, Coupon clipping, or the general wrangling and organization. The more technical things, like fixing up some of the other buildings, like the chicken coop and actual animal barns that have fallen into disrepair, are left mostly to namjoon. 

- You’re given nearly 30 chickens and half a dozen sheep by a local after the owners of them get too old to properly take care of them. As much as they’re a headache access to more than three dozen eggs a day helps to cut down the cost of breakfast significantly. And you’re happy with the chickens because at the very least they aerate the soil and keep it free of bugs too, even if it means you need to fence in the vegetable garden that you’re cultivating to keep them away from the tomatoes. 

- Scrambled eggs with bacon, breakfast burritos, frittatas, and fried eggs are some of your breakfast staples. And you get more than a little help from some of the hybrids who have experience in cooking during meal times to feed the nearly 50 occupants of the farm by the end of the second month. 

- You’ve accumulated a few dog hybrids as well, Wide-eyed collie Dahyun, chow-chow Yugyeom, and muscly great-dane hybrid Shownu who help Namjoon whenever something needs to be moved, as well as an assortment of rare breeds like the lone alpaca hybrid Seokjin who takes care of the sheep when you have to shear them and spin the wool into fine quality yarn. 

- Seokjin is a quiet hybrid, uncannily taciturn despite his kind face. he can often be found in the workshop at the south end of the property, his hair blonde and poofy hiding his soft pink ears. Piling the mountains of wool into vats of dyes and setting others out to dry, whistling along to the radio as he weaves it. the hybrid is quiet- and prefers his space from the bustle of the center of the property. Namjoon likes to help him when he can, and you’ve seen the way that the usually taciturn hybrid turns smiley when namjoon is around. 

- There is always someone volunteering to do the countless other little jobs and things that the hybrids do or make to help give back to you. Most of them want to do as much as they can, even though there are still days where there simply isn’t a lot of work to do outside of mealtimes. 

- At night, when you retreat to your house after dinner with Namjoon, happy for a little bit of calmness in your kitchen so late. You’ll hold his hand, let him spin you to the tune of whatever plays out of the radio, and thank him for finding you again after you disappeared into yourself for a little while after your husband's death. You don’t feel quite so sad anymore, with the hybrids here- you have a purpose again. 

- The large fortune you have from your late husband is barely dented by the start-up costs and day-to-day costs of running the farm. And since you got licensed by the state as a hybrid rehabilitation center you have no shortage of funding or generous donations by the countries rich looking to deduct from their taxes too. The same rich people that stop by in their fancy cars and barely used trucks to see the farm, often asking to adopt, as enamored with the hybrids as you are. 

- There is a long judgment period before you sign over anyone, and more than once you have declined an offer after the hybrid in question tells you they’re unsure. Sometimes there are red flags, the way the children act almost fearful, and a lack of care shown during mealtimes or something else that leads you to believe that they will be neglected. The ones you do part with give you a hug, often almost not wanting to let go, some of them choking out ‘thank you’s’ and ‘please never close’ that make every bit of effort worth it.

- You keep a logbook, of every hybrid that comes to stay and when they leave, even some come back more than once, every now and then. At the top of the page is namjoon’s signature, and next is taehyungs, and then on and on. you fill up the first page, and then the second, and then the third with names. 

- All the hybrids know that they won't leave with anyone unless they want to. You hold adoption weekends every month or so to help mitigate some of the influx, but you never turn anyone away who comes to stay. There are some hybrids that come stay at the farm and still want a home of their own, which is the primary reason why you start to have open houses and adoption weekends. 

- You devise a system, red tags on clothing to indicate a hybrid that doesn’t want to be adopted, yellow for the ones that might be but need space, and green name tags for those who want to be adopted. 

- The first time you have one of these weekends, 3 months after the death of your husband, you leave Namjoon’s choice of which sticker he wants up to him. He rolls his eyes at you before slapping 5 red stickers on his lapel just for good measure, really? Why would you expect any differently?  

- “Whose going to love a washed-up old soul like me anyway?” Namjoon says over dishes, helping you finish up the few that are leftover from breakfast. The hybrids that normally help are out meeting with the ten or so people that have come to adopt today. The words sound so sour, much more than he wanted them too.  

- You snort, rubbing at a dish harder, splashing the grease onto the front of your apron, angry, maybe it’s just the hormones. “I don’t know, me maybe.” Namjoon looks up abruptly; nearly dropping the dish he’s drying. You take it from his hands and put it on the counter, and you might be smaller than him by nearly a foot but he still feels shy. his cheeks pinking as he looks down at you. 

- “No ones- no ones ever loved me.” Namjoon says in a rush, not sure why he’s saying it, because you know- if anyone in the world knows Namjoon it’s you. your batterd soul matches his. 

- You tilt his chin down to yours, “no one has ever said it to me and meant it either. But I love you Joonie- you have to know that by now- of course I want you to stay for good.” 

- And then suddenly Namjoon is kissing you feverishly, sloppily despite the fact that his body is brimming with careful intent. And it may not be the first kiss you’ve shared- there have been more than a few in the shadowed shared moments In the morning. Mostly chaste pecks of the lips or kisses to your forehead or the ones to your tummy that namjoon knows make you feel a little sad. But for all intents and purposes, this is the only kiss that matters. The kisses that come after the first “I love you” are always sweeter than candy.  

- You thread your fingers through his hair and pull, making tingles erupt like starlight down his spine. Namjoon almost growls into your mouth as he reaches down to grip underneath your thighs where your ass meets your hips. Picking you up as gently as he can manage and placing you on the butcher-block countertop next to the sink. 

-  Your nails rubbing along the curve where his ears connect to his scull and he pulls you closer, always closer, dissatisfied with your nearness even though you’re pressed against him completely and he can feel the gentle swell of you through his clothes. your legs parted so he can step between them. Namjoon wants to not be able to tell where your skin begins and his ends. Your hands run up and down his chest, pushing his flannel off of his shoulders, so you can feel his biceps, the strength there in them taught. 

- Your dress hiking up to the point where it’s verging on lewd as his hands grab fistfulls of your plush thighs. He grips the weight you’ve gained there through your pregnancy and almost groans as he smooth’s his hands up over your curves unable to get enough of the way his fingers press into your supple skin. “Fuck, do you know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that? To touch you? i love you too- so much it hurts sometimes.”

- You’re looking up at him, already looking needy and wrecked the spaghetti strap of your dress sliding off your shoulder, as you nod and Namjoon wants more than anything to keep kissing you, to never stop, he never will if you let him.  

- He feels like he almost wants to devour you nipping lightly at the skin exposed by that fallen strap. As your fingers hover around the nape of his neck, answering his question with a broken whimper as he nips along your clavicle to your neck. Drunk on the smell of you, feeling like his soul is bare but safe in your hands. “I love you- god I love you so much, please can - can i- touch you?” 

- You feel almost incredulous, you head spinning with the knowledge that Namjoon loves you, he loves you, and you love him. You nod your ascent, and After everything, you’d never honestly believed that you’d ever be kissed again, much less that you’d ever be kissed like this. You tug up the hem of his shirt to dig your fingers into hips, dragging them carefully down his stomach without using your nails, the gentleness of the touch making him groan.

-  You can feel his heartbeat in your fingertips, the rapid rhythms of each heart beating in time as Namjoon kisses down your chest, mouthing roughly at your nipple through the fabric, careful not to nip, you’re already keening, your breasts so sensitive to his gentle but hungry ministrations. 

- Before it can go any further a cat hybrid, a small tortashell cat named Irene whose missing the tip of one of her ears from her last owner opens the front door looking for you- announcing a few people come for the open house, shocked to find the scene before her. And before she can manage more than a squeak Namjoon is snarling at her to leave without words. 

- He’s flushing so hard at being caught that you can’t help but laugh, as he turns from sultry to painfully shy. After a few more kisses and a frustrated groan on his part, you go back outside to join the adoption day festivities. 

- You get the call to pick up a golden retriever hybrid much like you would get any other call.

- It’s the second you’ve gotten in the last week and it’s only Thursday, though the first hybrid of the week has been clear that she wants to be re-adopted as soon as possible. You get the call and a blurry picture as proof, a brutish man with a hand tugging a small blonde head with golden ears as curly as the rest of his head. the neighbor tells you he’d seen the man beat the hybrid out in the yard, heard his cries of stop- and though of your add in the paper. 

- You and namjoon leave soon after dinner in your old red truck, before you go Taehyung assures you that he’ll make sure everyone cleans up from dinner and that the two child hybrids that came to stay last week will be in bed before 10. It honestly endears you that Taehyung takes on an older brother role with a lot of the younger hybrids, who during free hours, can be found bothering the bear hybrid to play games or let them steal spoonful’s of honey from the storeroom.  

- The drive is long, the day fading into night as you and Namjoon take mile after mile to heart. He switches off with you on the straightaways. You’ve been trying to teach him how to drive over the past few months (with many quaint misshapes where he accidentally knocked over your mailbox and a street sign or two, it’s a good thing your old truck is incredibly sturdy). 

- You whistle along with the song on the radio and namjoon smiles over at you, you're leaning your cheek on the door, hanging your head out of the open window the warm spring air tickling your long hair, your smile soft and happy. The love he has for you overflowing in his chest, thick and sweet like hidden honey. He might not say he loves you often, but you can taste it on his lips every time he kisses you, since the first confession, the kisses have come every day. 

- Namjoon still gets a little misty-eyed if he thinks about it too much. How much better you’ve gotten in the past few months since you’ve opened your home and started helping hybrids. He knows what it means for you to be able to help others out of situations like this. 

- With most pick-ups and house calls, you’re never sure what you’re driving into. Namjoon is always a little worried, unsure what kind of danger they’re going to find at the end of their journey. 

- Namjoon always anticipates the day that the human owners become violent, and his protective instincts go haywire whenever Namjoon has to leave you near someone abusive. Dredging up memories from a time that you’re both desperately trying to forget, but he’d never ask you to stop coming on these runs.

- This is why when you get to the house on the edge of the city where Namjoon used to work he lets you handle the transactional part of this, it helps that you’re very convincing. 

-The large jean jacket that was Namjoon’s at one point but has become yours pulled snugly over your stomach. You answer the door, talk to the owner weave a story of a widow who needs help on their farm. The man smells distinctly of alcohol and cheep cigars, namjoon sees you holding your breath- even as the conversation becomes less than cordial. Namjoon stops the door from closing in your face by shoving his foot into the door. 

- “I’ll level with you asshole,” you say, “you can either take my money and hand over the hybrid now- or I can go to the police with this” you hold out your phone and the video. “The fine for abusing hybrids is just about as much as what I’m offering to take him off your hands. Either way he’s coming home with me tonight. You can either make 500 dollars tonight or lose it- your choice.”  

- Through the whole conversation, Namjoon stands behind you, a silent sentinel even as the owner of the hybrid raises his voice. You argue more, but eventually, he agrees. Namjoon goes to retrieve the hybrid after a small nod from you; you’ve got this handled, Namjoon follows his nose.  

- Over the past few years, Jimin has become accustomed to just about every kind of abuse there is. 

- Even when he sleeps, adrenaline lugs it’s way through his veins ready to jump at the slightest indication of his owner coming down the hall. He knows he shouldn’t sleep right now, get it when he can, but the concussion he got earlier today makes his head feel heavy and nausea still rolls in his belly. 

- He lies- hides- underneath his bed; an old military cot in the cold garage. Not that he ever sleeps on top of it- it’s safer to sleep underneath. That way if his owner comes in later at night he’ll think Jimin has fucked off to some other corner of the house.

- He knows the concussion is all his own fault- he’d been stupid- but he’d just wanted to shower, to get some of the grime out from under his fingernails, he hadn’t expected his owner to come back from wherever he disappeared to so soon. Jimin shivers as he remembers the jarring crack of his own head hitting the rocks outside where he’d been tossed outside. His memories after that were muddled with pain, though he was certain he’d vomited at one point from the taste in his mouth.

- You weren’t supposed to sleep when you had a concussion right? That was dangerous right? Jimin was trying to remember, lying on the side of his face that wasn’t bruised to all high heaven. He freezes when he hears the voices in the kitchen, but relaxes. If people are here that means his owner probably won’t bother Jimin tonight. 

- he might be able to get to the bathroom later and dab some cool water on his face, maybe sneak a few handfuls of something from the kitchen. Always small portions so that his owner couldn’t tell Jimin had taken anything- he couldn’t handle another beating so close to this one. Hunger eats his way through his stomach. 

- But then he hears the footsteps and thinks that maybe he isn’t so lucky tonight. he presses himself closer to the wall, tucking his knees up to his chest.  

- But why are the footsteps a different pattern, what is that scent? it smells like another hybrid- a little spicy musk twined in with pine. Jimin doesn’t like strange smells. The door opens slowly, and the scent seeps in further, along with- what could that be? The scent of something delicate and sweet clinging to the hybrid as strong as his own scent, milky and soft, and inexplicably vulnerable.

- He watches as the stiff workboots come into view, At this point, jimin can tell that it’s definitely not his owner.

- Namjoon finds Jimin curled up under his bed in the garage, and beacons him out in his calm voice, careful not to get close and startle him. “Come on out pup- we’re here to take you somewhere safe, I promise I will let no harm come to you again.” jimin eases when he sees the hybrid ears- another hybrid like him! another dog, his tail gives a single wag. “mm not a pup- i’m just small,” 

- Jimin pears out from under the bed at him, ears pinned to his head in fear. the hybrid looks fierce and intimidating with the scars on his face that jimin almost flinches back. But the wide worried eyes that he can see underneath those scars, the muted dimples stretching into a worried smile. 

- Jimin has been so downtrodden on his entire life that he doesn’t really believe Namjoon when he repeats the words, “we’re here to take you somewhere safe?” jimin dosent believe him- but at the same time, he thinks that nowhere could be worse than right where he is.  

- The other hybrids smile is kind, and dimply, despite the scars that mark his face as he sits on the ground so he dosent have to bend over to see under the cot. “sorry, it’s hard to get a good look at you, i’m namjoon, you’re Jimin right?” 

- Jimin crawls out from under his cot in the garage slowly, the room spinning.  half expecting the other hybrid to get tired of his slowness and yank him out. his owner did that sometimes when he felt like Jimin was being disrespectful of his time. Namjoon winces outwardly when Jimin’s left side turns towards the light, and Jimin knows that it can’t look good. He can barely see out of his eye after all the skin tender and swolen under his hands. 

- He’s mindful of all the dust on his clothes and the tare in the left leg of his red shorts, brushing a dust bunny off his side, suddenly feeling lacking in front of the well taken care of hybrid.  

- He follows a pace behind Namjoon back into the living room, his owner stands with you, you’re shorter but holding your own with sharp stubborn eyes. A human, so this must be Namjoon’s owner. The second your eyes fall on Jimin, on his swollen side of his face, your eyes turn softer and definitely angrier. 

- The scent of flowers and cream hits Jimin like a wave so pungent that it fills his nostrils and overwhelms him a little, it’s not unpleasant- just unexpected- and when he sees you he understands why. Though you’re obviously trying to conceal your pregnant stomach your scent is a dead giveaway every hybrid in a mile radius probably can smell you.  

- Jimin can see Namjoon straighten up a little, becoming more protective the closer they get to Jimin’s owner, who doesn’t look happy (not by a long, astronomical shot) Jimin shivers as he turns his eyes on him, his arms crossed, and Namjoon instinctually steps in front of Jimin to hide him from view. Jimin sways on his feet. 

- You plunge your hand into your bag by your side, pulling out a stack of bills, for a moment jimin almost wants to stop you- tell you that he’s not worth that much, but Namjoon holds out a hand, almost pressing it to Jimin’s chest to keep him from doing so. 

- The money is counted, “good riddance useless mutt,” his owner spits after he signs over the adoption documents to you.  Jimin’s flinch is sobering, his owner laughs. Namjoon actually shoves him back The saliva hitting Jimin’s feet as he reels, and you lay a gentle arm around his shoulders, guiding him outside. Sending a final glare in the direction of the man. 

- Jimin can barely process any of it through the spinning in his head, a spinning that moderately stops the second he gets outside into the cool air of the May evening. The scent of flowers and pine in his nose and the taste of blood in his mouth.  

- You soothe him with a soft voice once they’re out of earshot and take a quick look at Jimin’s half swollen face. A cellphone flashlight in his face and thundering in his ears. Momentarily blinding him. Jimin closes his eye as the pads of your fingers turn his chin this way and that to assess his wounds. “Do you think you need to go to the hospital Jimin?” you ask, careful to stay quiet and delicate with him.

- In the window of Jimin’s old house, the curtain twitches, and Namjoon knows they need to leave soon. Bad will and money lead to safety that only lasts so long, and they definitely don’t need the cops called on them especially after Namjoon shoved him, hybrids have been sent to jail for less. 

- “No, I think I’ll be fine” Jimin mumbles, unable to resist leaning into your hand, so soft, your scent making him feel almost hazy and out of it than his probable concussion does. And Namjoon freezes, reminded that not too long ago that you looked like this too- that he was the one leaning into your hands. The memory hits him so violently that he whines, low in his throat. Jimin looks up, ears flicking agitated like he’s asking what wrong, sending a panicked glance between the two of you defaulting to namjoon, the elder hybrid, to know what to do around you- his new owner. 

- “let me- let's get you into the car” namjoon grips jimin around the top of his arms and lifts him in, his skinned knee resisting the bend that would be needed to pull himself up into the back seat. He sits tense and curled up before you remind him that he can stretch out. and he settles onto the seat with his his back up against one side, and his feet pressed against the opposite door. the back window open to let the night air wip in. 

- You stop at the gas station and give Jimin ice for his black eye and some food and snacks, which he gobbles up hungrily. He’s so preoccupied with food, that he dosent notice Namjoon’s dimpled smile in the mirror after Jimin groans at how good the gas station burrito tastes, licking his fingers with a pop. You give Namjoon a soft, knowing look when his tail thumps against the seat. he tosses Jimin two more bags of chips and a sweet elecrtolite drink, and watches expectantly to see more of Jimin’s happy little whines and pleased grumbles. and you stifle a huffing laugh. 

- Namjoon can’t help it, the hybrid in the back seat looks so thin, almost startlingly so; he’s smaller than average too- probably malnourished. Namjoon’s natural caregiver instincts flaring up and demanding to be satisfied so desperately that he even tosses his flannel over him when he sees the hybrid shiver. You sent Namjoon a curious look, and he hides his flush by turning to watch the roadside. 

- Jimin stretches out across the back seat with Namjoon’s giant flannel thrown over his shoulders, checking to make sure neither of you is looking back at him before he presses the collar to his nose and takes a deep breath of your combines scents, trying to reconcile his senses with what surely must be a dream. 

- This has to be just a concussion dream jimin decides, what else would his mind come up with, other than a sweet fantasy. Someone comes to take him out of the hell his life was, give him food. He wants to take in everything, the smell of the night air, the silhouette of your face in the headlights, namjoon’s ears poking out above the headrest. 

- He hovers on Namjoon’s hand entwined with yours over the center console, the hand that Namjoon occasionally reaches out to rest against your swollen stomach, gently drawing lazy circles as you pull onto the main road.

- Yup, Jimin decides, this is definitely a dream, but he hopes it’s real.  The last little bit of hope feels almost stupid to have, for hybrids like Jimin, there are very rarely happy endings.

- He falls asleep by the time you reach the highway, lulled by the thrumming road and the oldies song faintly playing out of the crackly speakers of the beat-up truck. His last thought before sleep takes him is hope. 

-  Jimin hopes with the last shred of himself that is joyful and kind and not purely concerned with survival that this is not a dream, and that where he is going will be a little bit better than where he just was. 

- Even just a little bit better than this dream, he doesn’t even need anything like the affection burning in both of your eyes or the kindness you’ve shown him, if he can just lay his head down and rest without being worried he’ll be woken up with pain and fear again, that will be enough. 

- To Jimin, the farm is an Eden.

( my Kofi )

[daeguzen]

Son of Apollo

PAIRING | l.jn x g.n reader

GENRE | angst fluff

WORD COUNT | 7.1k

NOTE | i'm deceased. this took a lot of revision and I know it probably still his errors but I’m tired at the moment so i’ll look over it for thousandth time later on.

WARNING | mentions of mental abuse, jeno doesn't get along with reader and it shows

SONG | numb - men i trust

SUMMARY | jeno's passion in life was centered around his bow and arrow. some would say it couldn't compare to the varied assortment of weapons that exist. jeno didn't share that opinion. to weild a bow, it took practice and patience. for the son of apollo it became a more innate talent. jeno found comfort in walking in the shadows, letting his arrow rip through the air with a small whistle. he could sense any arrow coming his way and never missed. however, for the first time jeno made the mistake in shooting his arrow towards you. a lead tipped arrow pierced your heart while your golden tipped arrow pierced his.

As a son of Apollo, Jeno most obviously had a love for archery. It was his greatest passion among his many other skills. Apollo was the god of many things and so Jeno was blessed with plenty of gifts. He was known to be gifted in the arts. He was an extremely skilled dancer and very poetic much to his friends' disgust which he did not understand. Did people not like a good romantic poem or haiku? Contrary to Jeno's strong looks he was very gentle. He would be mistaken for a child of Ares but he would vehemently deny this. He had no affection for the blood thirsty children of Ares. 

     Jeno was very soft at heart even if his facial expressions and tantrums seemed to say otherwise. Additionally, Jeno was known to be a splendid healer. He was able to cure injuries ranging from small cuts to fractured bones. He was quite the prodigy for his age and some may have thought him to be perfect. However, Jeno was anything but perfect. He strived for perfection but never seemed to reach it in his head. He had his weaknesses and flaws but those who looked up to him romanticized him in various aspects. Jeno would confess that one of his many weaknesses would be his inability to lie. Of course lying was wrong, he knew this, but it was the little white lies that he couldn’t tell. If he were to be captured and asked to reveal information one would know Jeno is lying by his fidgeting and nonsense of a lie. Apollo was the god of truth and prophecy therefore this flaw ran in the family. 

     Jeno would always spend his days in the forest practicing his archery vigorously. He was proud that Apollo was his father because he wouldn’t have known what to do with his life if archery was not his power. He found joy and pleasure in everything related to this sport although Jeno would call it a living. He took care of his bow as if it were a part of himself. He never let anyone touch it besides himself and a few other friends. Very specific friends.

     Jeno froze immediately as he heard the crunching of leaves somewhere to his far right. He immediately stood flat against the large willow tree that was to his left and waited. Judging by how loudly it was it couldn’t have been a small creature and neither could it have been something as large as a deer. After a while Jeno leaned over slightly to try and catch sight of what was lurking in the forest.

     To his surprise he was met with another person. In Jeno’s eyes you were the most beautiful person his eyes had ever laid upon. Your hair had been cut to the same length as his own but your bangs encased your face beautifully which added to your androgynous features. Your physique was lean and graceful. He could tell that your eyes were sharp and your movements very attentive to your surroundings. You wore simple black sneakers, camouflage cargo pants and a loose fitting black t-shirt. Jeno’s eyes traveled down to your hand. He noticed something shining in your tight grip which he soon realized was a dagger. 

     You moved along the forest as if you were a part of it and Jeno couldn’t help but admire that about you. He admired it perhaps for too long, for when he came to his senses the same dagger you held was lodged into the willow tree a few inches away from his face. You took that moment to hide behind the tree that was parallel to the one Jeno hid behind. For a second he assumed that you were a very dangerous threat but he saw you staring at him curiously. When one throws a weapon in such a manner it can be assumed that the person is a threat but sometimes it could mean that the person was trying to protect themselves from potential danger. Jeno noticed something in your eyes. You were on your guard as well trying to tell if Jeno would be a threat to you. 

     You had assumed that he would be able to catch you with his arrow in a heartbeat so you waited. Unbeknownst to Jeno, this was not your first time seeing him in the forest. Jeno had come by often and so you watched him with lots of admiration and respect glowing in your eyes. To you, Jeno moved with the bow as if it were a part of himself, not something separate. Jeno didn’t know you had seen him often because you hid quietly in the trees when he stopped by for practice. 

     Jeno moved out of your vision, deciding to stand straight against the tree once again.

     “You are rather skilled with your aim. Tell me, did you mean to do that or was it a stroke of luck?” Jeno’s voice was deep but had a gentleness to it that you found it enticing. It was very luring.

     “A lot of practice. I wonder if that bow and arrow you are holding has been blessed by Apollo? Or perhaps Eros. Both are skilled Gods when it comes to archery.”

     “Are you saying my looks are delicate enough to pass for a son of love?” Jeno asked with curiosity although you could not read the mocking tone he used.

     “You are the most attractive person I have ever laid my eyes upon. But the real question here is if you are a threat to me.” Your voice held confidence but you were only masking your slight fear. Jeno spoke again with that gentle tone of his.

     “I am not a threat as I hope you are not one to me.” Jeno was the first to step out from behind the tree, granting your eyes the ability to see him fully. His hair was swept over his forehead, it was too blonde so you assumed that it was not his natural hair color. But it looked beautiful in comparison to his ethereal skin. Jeno wore a thin black track jacket that matched his sweatpants. You concluded that he was about a head taller than you. Jeno stood there almost awkwardly until you decided to walk out as well. 

     Having the opportunity to see Jeno closely drew you even more to him. He did not know the gravitational pull he had that you simply could not ignore. You had not known that he thought the same of you.

     “I am Lee Jeno, son of Apollo. Who are you?” You let yourself smile and Jeno felt his heart jump at how pretty you looked with your wide smile and cute eyes. You opted to make your way over to where he was standing.

     “I am Y/N, a child of Eros.” Jeno’s eyebrows furrowed. He stepped back slightly. He knew Eros very well from his father’s stories. Apollo, who had mocked Eros’s skill in archery was punished by experiencing the full force of Eros’s power. He shot him with a gold tipped arrow which caused him to fall in love with Daphne who in turn was shot with a lead tipped arrow. This made her immune to Apollo’s advances.  Jeno felt wary of your presence. If you were a child of Eros why use a dagger and not an arrow?

     “I speak the truth,” you said, noticing the change in Jeno’s attitude. Jeno didn’t say anything as you walked towards him, his grip on his bow tightening. This action went unnoticed by you as you focused mostly on his expression but you continued forward. Once you stood a foot away from him you brought your hand up to take your dagger back. You placed the dagger in its place and looked up to see Jeno slightly glaring at you, alarming you instantly.

     “Why do you glare at me?” 

     “You are a child of Eros. The god who insulted my father.”

     “That is but a grudge between our fathers not us.”

     “Even so, I do not play nicely with the children of Eros.”

     “Your eyes said otherwise.” Jeno fumed at this. How dare you say such a thing? He turned quickly to leave but you trailed after him. Almost like a lost puppy.

     “Why do you walk away from me when I have done you no harm? I want to play with you.” Jeno ignored you and kept walking. You tried to speak to him again. 

     “Teach me how to use your bow and arrow.” Jeno stopped instantly and scoffed in disbelief. He turned to you, his eyes red with anger as his cold answer upset you.

     “Never.”

~

     Jeno didn’t return to the forest the following week in hopes of avoiding you. As much as he told himself that he hated you, he couldn’t help but think about you. He assumed that it was because you had charmed him. You were the child of Eros, it had to be among your powers. As much as Jeno denied it, it was obvious that he had been attracted to you. He could not stop thinking about the way you moved along in the forest. You were quick and as light as you could be with your steps. Your eyes were always watching and in that moment he had been distracted he knew he had messed up. You were cunning. He had been so immersed in watching you that he missed the playful little glint in your eyes that knew what you were about to do.

     Jeno didn’t speak of the incident with anyone. Not even his best friend Jaemin who he was sharing an apartment with. He thought it was something of the past. But sometimes the past comes back to haunt you.

     Jeno found that he did not have to tell Jaemin about you because he already knew you. He processed this information as you stood alongside Jaemin who had kindly invited you into the apartment.

     “Jeno! You didn’t tell me you had other friends. I thought it was only us and the other boys but you were hanging out with this cutie.” You blushed at Jaemin’s choice of words. Jeno wondered how you managed to acquaint yourself with his best friend. You knew he was a friend of Jeno and took the opportunity to befriend the boy. It might have partially been for personal gain but you soon found out that your personality matched his. You had a lot of love to give and you found out that Jaemin was overflowing with it too.

     Jeno glared at you not caring if Jaemin saw or not.

     “This person is not my friend.” Jaemin chuckled at Jeno’s attitude.

     “Jeno, quit acting like that. It’s not nice and you’ll hurt their feelings. I still don’t understand how you managed to be friends with him.” You looked at Jeno with that playful glint of yours.

     “Well, archery has a way of bringing people together.” 

     “More like pushing them apart,” Jeno disagreed. You felt the hostility that radiated from Jeno and couldn’t help but feel upset. Why couldn’t he see that you wanted to be his friend?

     “Okaay, well, Y/N would you like something to drink or eat?” You looked at Jaemin and smiled.

     “Do you perhaps have coffee?” Jaemin felt happiness surge his body when you requested coffee.

     “Do I? This household would tumble to the ground if there was no coffee. How do you want it?”

     “I like my coffee really sweet.” Jaemin pouted at that.

     “I prefer mine bitter but everyone has a different taste. You can take a seat wherever you would feel most comfortable.” You decided to sit at the counter where Jaemin was busy preparing your coffee along with his own. Jeno stood rooted in his place, not knowing whether to shoot an arrow at you or jump out the window. Either one would have been preferable. 

     “Jeno? You good?” Jaemin asked. Jeno threw you another glare and stomped away to his room. His door slammed audibly and you flinched. Jaemin felt confused at Jeno’s sudden reaction.

     “I am deeply sorry about that. I don’t know what has gotten into him,” Jaemin apologized.

     “I don’t think he fancies me.”

     “I thought you were friends?” You sighed and Jaemin noticed that you looked tired. When you stopped smiling altogether you looked older. 

     “I might have been lying about that.” Jaemin looked at you with surprise evident in his features. If you were not friends with Jeno then who were you? You continued.

     “I’ve seen Jeno in the forest. I stay there everyday. Jeno is more than amazing with his bow and arrow. It’s obvious that he is the son of Apollo. I would know because I am the child of Eros. I would like to get to know Jeno and ask him to teach me archery but I am afraid he resents me.” Jaemin was very interested in what you were saying, concluding that perhaps you were not a bad person. He was still cautious though.

     “Why would he resent you if he does not know you?”

     “It’s because he holds a grudge against my father. It was the time that my father struck Apollo with a golden tipped arrow and made him fall in love with Daphne. You know the story right?” Jaemin nodded, knowing all too well what was going on. Jeno made it obvious to him that he did not appreciate the children of Eros. He found it to be a misplaced grudge that soured Jeno’s attitude.

     “I told him that it was but a grudge against our fathers and not us. I am not to blame for what happened between them. I think Jeno should learn to forgive. He will only destroy himself if he fills himself with hate.”

     “Such interesting words. I agree with your thinking. Sadly, Jeno can be such a stubborn person when it comes to things he is passionate about. Tell me though, why do you wish to learn archery? I would assume you would know being a child of Eros and all.” You bit your lip, a habit you did when you were nervous. Jaemin seemed like someone you could trust. He was kind to you.

     “When I was younger, I used to live with someone. She used the bow and arrow as a weapon. But she used it for all the wrong reasons. She would do terrible things to other demigods. She found it to be a fun sport when it came to monsters. She would use it against me too. One day she decided to use it against a cat I used to have. He was my only friend. Since then I have not liked archery. But some things happened. My father opened my eyes. It was quite the lecture but it was something that has been with me for a very long time. Jeno is very good at archery and I wish to learn from him. I fear he does not like me and I wish that would change.” Jaemin looked pale for some reason but you did not know why. He trusted you immediately and knew that you truly meant no harm to anybody. Jaemin called out to Jeno even though he did not want to leave his room. 

     Jeno, however, felt something tug at him harshly and knew that if he did not follow Jaemin’s request he would regret it. He got up from his bed and took a deep breath before walking out to see you again. Jaemin had a serious look that Jeno had not seen for a long time.

     “You will train Y/N properly in archery. You will help them and I will not have any excuses. Understood?” Jeno wanted to scream at the unfairness. But he knew that Jaemin’s anger was not to be trifled with so with a lot of strength he muttered in agreement and went back to his room. He slammed his door again but you were too happy to care. It happened all very quickly but Jaemin had done you quite the favor.

     You didn’t notice how Jaemin looked at you, a smile masking his pity for you.

~

     Training with Jeno was hard but you enjoyed it. Before you left that day, you stopped by his room to ask when you would meet. He was abrupt but told you to be ready by 6 a.m. sharp. You noticed Jeno brought a different bow, besides his own, and questioned him about it. He snapped at you saying that his bow was not going to be touched by a naive child like you. You felt offended but continued with your lessons.

     Jeno was a harsh teacher. When you held the bow incorrectly he would tell you angrily that it was wrong. Your posture was wrong. Your trembling hands angered him too. Everything that you did frustrated him. However, even through all that you kept trying. Jeno let you take a break and in the meantime he went off in the woods to practice on his own. It helped him relieve his anger from having been forced to be your teacher. 

     When Jeno came back he was slightly taken aback at the fact that you kept practicing. You had not taken a break and kept trying. That still did not change the fact that you were terrible. If Jeno had to describe your skill he would say it was atrocious. Not being able to take it any longer, Jeno announced that the lesson was over. You whined but was silenced by Jeno’s angry expression.

     Jeno told you to keep the bow and arrows. You were to practice with them whenever you could and he would come back again tomorrow at the same time.

~

     A whole week passed by and Jeno saw the tiniest improvement in your skill. You were a slow learner but that didn’t stop you from your thirst for more training. 

     “It has been an entire week and you still can't hold it properly. This is such a nuisance.” You stood awkwardly feeling more self conscious about your skill than ever.

     “I’m trying. All I ask is for a little patience.” You flinched when Jeno raised his voice.

     “All you ask is for patience? I never asked for any of this! And yet here I am having to teach a demigod whose powers are useless. I was always good at archery because I was blessed with this gift. Your father is Eros and he uses archery as his main weapon. How is it that you are so infuriating and useless in that aspect? Is it that hard to do this?” Before you could react Jeno drew his bow and let his arrow lodge itself into the tree behind you. He looked at you for a moment before walking away immediately.

     Jeno had not known but you held your breath for a very long time. Once you realized you needed to breathe you collapsed on the ground, hugging yourself as fear crawled into your heart and made a home there once again.

~

     Jeno remembered walking away from you. One would have thought it was because he wanted to cool down but only he knew his reasoning. 

     Jeno felt terrible. He knew he took it a bit too far with his anger and he could not bring himself to face you. He made his way back to the apartment leaving you alone in the forest.

     The week after the incident with Jeno you came by his apartment. You had practiced even harder. You remembered the kind words Eros had told you about archery. You shouldn’t be afraid. When you use a bow, you turn it into something that is a part of you. If you use it to protect yourself or as a sport is solemnly up to you. But you knew that you would never use it to strike fear into the innocent.

     You made your way to the window as you had seen Jeno do before. However, before you could knock on the window you stopped when you heard Jeno raise his voice. The window had been slightly opened and it was enough for you to hear what was going on.

     “I’m just saying I do not wish to meddle with a child of Eros! Jaemin, their father insulted mine. They are a good for nothing who can barely use their powers right. They don't even know how to use a bow and arrow and it’s considered to be their father’s weapon.”

     “Jeno don’t you think that you’re being harsh on them?” That was Jaemin's voice.

     “Their nothing but a nuisance Jaemin. They tremble when they hold a bow and cannot aim right. They keep trying to get close to me and it’s so annoying.”

     “Jeno, you don’t know why they are like that. Maybe if you didn’t have that misplaced anger you would understand them.”

     “I wish they would just disappear!” All you heard was Jeno slam something and quick footsteps that seemed to get closer to the window. At this you quickly stepped away. You tried to climb down the side of the apartment building quickly. Your tears blurred your eyes and caused you to slip, falling a few feet off the ground. It hurt but you ignored the pain. All you wanted was to get away. 

     Jeno didn’t understand. He didn’t know the pain you carried and how privileged he was. All you wanted was a friend and someone to love. You wanted to get over your fear of archery. You ignored the burning pain and ran as fast as your legs could carry you. 

     You were not the brightest of Eros’s children but you were definitely the kindest. Although the Gods were not supposed to have a favorite child Eros knew that you had a special place in his heart. Of all the children he had you were the only one to understand that love is something you give and share. It’s not something you use for your advantage or to harm others. That is, among mortals, Eros didn’t think about the little things he did in life. Even if you didn’t know, Eros watched you from afar. When he looked back to the window where you had fallen from he noticed Jeno. 

     He smiled as he saw Jeno’s wide eyes tracing your running figure.

~

     When your legs stopped carrying you and collapsed right under you, you wept in the comfort of the forest. You had run all the way from Jeno’s apartment into the depths of the forest. Sounds of water running, leaves rustling and heavy winds filled your ears. But they couldn’t block the sounds of your sobbing. The nymphs of the forest looked towards you in sadness. They recognized you as the sweet person who always passed by and spoke kind words to them. You were not like other demigods that considered themselves to be great and privileged. You were humble and quiet. They were surprised to see your silence broken and they saw the anguish of your lonely heart. They were not blind to your feelings towards the blonde boy that you had been practicing with. They saw how cold he seemed and even thought to themselves that he was a son of Ares. But they were proven wrong when they saw him use his bow skillfully.

     “Do not cry fair demigod. Your sad tears should not be spent on a boy whose coldness exceeds kindness. You will find love in someone who deserves the plentiful love you have to give.” You wept even more at their words. It had taken time but soon enough the forest no longer heard your whimpers. You had fallen fast asleep in the heart of the forest. When the nymphs heard your soft breathing they took it upon themselves to create a beautiful bed for you to rest upon. They adorned it with flowers of all kinds and created a circle of water around you for anyone who would want to reach they would have to trudge through the pond they created. You laid there with the nymphs watching over you as they pitied the child of Eros whose heart was broken.

~

     Jeno was worried. He knew his eyes had not lied to him when he saw how you fell from the side of the building. He noticed how you had taken a deep breath from the fall but had gotten up nonetheless. He was surprised and shocked. It wouldn’t have done him any good to avoid the fact that you had most definitely heard what he had said. But Jeno was stubborn. He tried to tell himself that he did not care. That this was what he finally wanted.

     But Jeno kept going back to the forest and although he didn’t want to admit it to himself he longed for you. It did annoy him when he would see how terrible your aim was but what he didn’t tell Jaemin was the small fear that you had in your eyes. You seemed scared. You didn’t look comfortable and he was curious as to why. It was his damned anger that blinded him and he blamed himself endlessly.

     He didn’t love you, he couldn’t. You were a child of Eros and he was the son of Apollo. It was not right but his worry turned greater and finally he decided to actively look for you.

     “Jaemin, I am going to the forest today.”

     “The forest? To practice archery or to find the child of Eros?” Jeno scowled.

     “Mind your business.”

     “Tell them to come by. I miss having them here.”

     “Shut up.” Jeno got up, grabbing his bow and arrows. He had his backpack that had snacks and a first aid kit that he always took just in case he got hurt or possibly someone else. Possibly you although he hoped he would not have to use it.

~

     Jeno walked through the forest quickly. He learned a bit of how you moved through the forest. As silently as his body could be. He looked and looked but he couldn’t seem to find you. He came across a few nymphs who gave him angry glares which he did not understand. He felt rather uncomfortable. A few nymphs had gone as far as splashing water on him and he felt hated but he didn’t stop searching for you.

     When he finally did find you he swore in Greek. You who had caused his misplaced anger looked like the heavens had graced you. Jeno’s quickened heartbeat was unmistakable as he saw you walk in traditional Greek clothing. He felt like you had punched the air right out of his lungs. On your head you had a flower crown that was full of different hues of reds and pinks.

     You heard the loud snapping of a branch and looked up immediately to be met with the eyes of the boys who had your love. You froze. Jeno had a look that you deciphered quickly. He had assumed that your powers were useless, dormant possibly. But you had not told him about what you could do. Love was something that you saw easily and at the moment you felt the aura that Jeno was emitting. You saw the red aura that emitted from around Jeno’s shoulders and immediately understood.  

     “Y/N.” Jeno swore that he saw pain in your eyes. An eternal sadness that he wanted to heal. You backed away slowly, your breathing becoming ragged and tears welling in your eyes. You turned away from him and started to walk away slowly at first. Jeno caught on to what you were trying to do and he yelled your name but you ignored him and broke out into a run. You ran hard and fast. 

     “Y/N! Come back!” Jeno yelled. 

     “Leave me alone!” You kept running but Jeno was not going to give up. Not now. At one point you had pleaded for the nymphs to help you in getting away and they granted your wish. Jeno felt a sudden and painful tug at his torso as the branches wrapped themselves around him and flung him in the air backwards. You stopped and turned to see where Jeno was. He desperately fought against the branches and looked up at you.

     “Tell them to let me go. Please.” Jeno pleaded with you but you shook your head as you turned to get away once again. Jeno’s expression saddened at seeing how badly you wanted to be away from him. You used to always wish to be by his side but know you avoided him like a deadly plague.

~

     When the branches were removed from his body Jeno had left the forest with a heavy heart. Every sound he heard he would look up and hope it was you. He would frown when it was a nymph passing by or an animal running. He remembered the expression your eyes held which hurt him the most.

     You looked so sad and in pain. He knew that when he saw you his expression must have been of surprise or happiness. But that all vanished as quick as it came. Jeno was good at reading others and he knew that even if it was for a split second he saw anguish. 

     When Jeno made his way out of the forest he headed straight home. He made his way up by the side of the apartment building. He let himself land softly and bent over to open the half open window. He climbed in.

     “For the gods sake Jeno! Do you ever use the front door?” Jaemin yelped. Usually Jaemin was not one to be scared easily but he had his music playing loudly and had ignored the world around him. Jeno let out a small sorry before closing the window. He took his shoes and left his weapon in its place. Jaemin immediately picked up on Jeno’s mood. It was not exactly hard to notice his slump figure, furrowed eyebrows, and sad puppy eyes. Jeno crashed on the sofa almost immediately but not before grabbing his cat Seol and holding her in his embrace. Seol didn’t complain and instead nuzzled closer into Jeno’s chest, purring softly much to his comfort. 

     Jaemin sat down next to Jeno’s head, bringing his hand to pat his head.

     “What happened?” Jaemin asked softly. Jeno said nothing as he tried not to let his inner turmoil spill over messily but he couldn’t help it. Jaemin was always there for him no matter what. He cared deeply for his friend and Jeno would always be thankful for him. He let himself speak of his encounter with you.

     “I went to the forest and I saw the child of Eros. I felt relieved to see them again but when they saw me they looked...” Jeno thought for a moment, remembering how the bright light in your eyes dimmed.

     “...they looked so sad. I swore I saw a glimpse of anguish in their eyes. Nana, I don’t know anything anymore.” Jaemin could tell by the quivering in Jeno’s voice that he was genuinely worried for you. But he also knew that Jeno was a blind fool.

     “Jeno, you said you felt relieved when you saw them. Why?” Jeno kept threading his fingers through Seol’s soft fur. He tried to think but couldn’t come to a proper answer.

     “I had not seen them for some time Jaemin. I know I had my indifference's with them that does not mean, however, that I do not care for their wellbeing. I thought that something had happened, that they were in danger. We’re children of gods, danger is like a shadow that follows.” Jaemin shook his head. What a terrible liar he was. 

     “Jeno, I say this with the most love I have for you. You are the biggest idiot I have ever met in my life.” Jeno couldn’t find it in himself to feel offended. Jaemin was the only person to be able to read Jeno thoroughly. They both knew what Jeno had been trying to deny and so his next words just confirmed what was truly bothering Jeno’s heart.

     “I’m falling in love aren’t I?” Jaemin hummed softly as he laid back on the couch. 

     “You always spoke so lowly of Eros’ children when they have done you no wrong. Our godly parents always get into feuds over small things and you know that. I understand that archery is important to you but is it really to the extent of being hostile to those who disrespect it? Or those who do not have the skill? So they are a child of Eros. I would think that they are the only ones who would understand the meaning of love and passion to its greatest extent. They wanted to learn archery because-” Jaemin’s voice died, remembering what you had told him. Jeno’s eyebrows furrowed, he removed himself from Jaemin and stared at him.

     “Because what?” Jaemin didn’t look at Jeno.

     “Jaemin what are you not telling me?” Jaemin looked away.

     “Jeno, it’s not my place to tell.” Jeno’s signature scowl returned to his face. He repeated his question with more hostility in it.

     “What are you not telling me?” Jaemin looked at him exasperated.

     “Jeno, did you ever stop to think that there was a reason why they wanted to learn archery? It’s not just because it’s their father’s gift. Why did you not ask them for their reasoning? Why not ask how is it possible for them to not be naturally gifted in archery as you and your cousins? Their traumatized Jeno. Unlike you they didn’t love archery because it was used against them by someone who called them-self a friend.” Jeno was immediately silenced. He sat there feeling uncomfortable and angry at the revelation. Jeno couldn’t say anything as he thought back to your sad eyes and trembling figure. Jeno never hated himself more than he did that night.

~

     When Jeno went to his room to rest he sat by the window sill. He looked up to the sky and let himself voice out his thoughts.

     “Father, what can I do for them to stop avoiding me so desperately?” To his surprise a soft silky voice spoke in Jeno’s head immediately. However, Jeno knew it didn’t belong to his father. 

     Why do you believe this has happened to you child?

     “Who are you?” 

     Demigod. Why do you wish to see them for you have only treated them with harsh words and bitter rejection? Jeno felt angry. The voice sounded almost mocking.

     “I repeat, who are you?” the voice chuckled. I suggest you speak with a kinder tone. I could have them removed from your life very easily. Jeno stood up straight, his hands curling into angry fists.

     “Leave them be.” 

     Why did you hurt them? They have so much love to give just as I. After all, I was the one who blessed them with the gifts you can’t see. Jeno finally realized who was speaking to him.

     “Eros.” Right you are. You still have not answered my question. Why do you wish to see them?

     Because I love them. Jeno was not able to know or see but Eros smiled. He had a soft smile on his sleeping face but it was anything but kind.

     You treated them cruelly. 

     And I regret it. I cared for my family and our reputation. I found it offending for anyone to think that we are less. That my father is less. So I took it out on them but I realized that when they left they took my love with them. I should have protected them. Eros laughed softly and Jeno didn’t like it.

     Prove that you are worthy of their love. My child is in the forest where you last met but they lay dying with a near mortal wound near their heart. If you do not make it in time they will die and you will have not only let them die but let them leave the mortal realm with a broken heart. I for one do not play nicely with children who cause broken hearts to my children. Apollo wouldn’t be able to save you from my wrath. I’d be a pity too. Although I dislike your parentage, I can’t deny your true nature fits nicely with theirs. 

     Jeno knew that his fear was well placed but he swallowed it all as his instincts kicked. Jeno felt tired of all the running but he had to push it away. His main priority was getting to you. Jaemin looked at him curiously as he saw how crazy Jeno had become. He felt something was wrong but was ignored by Jeno when asked what was going on. Jeno jumped out the window, made his way down and ran as if Thanatos were at his heel.

~

     The forest was vast. How was he supposed to find you? He knew where he had found you but he couldn’t remember how to get there. For the first time he felt small and out of place in the forest he had called home.

     “To the nymphs of this forest please I beg of you. Show me where the child of Eros is so I may heal them.” The nymphs had still not gotten over their dislike for Jeno but they saw the worry that was painted on his face. They cleared a path for Jeno and he thanked them wholeheartedly. With a clear path Jeno was able to make it in a shorter time than he expected. Jeno finally saw you, his heart breaking when he saw your pale figure. He quickly kneeled down next to you taking in your appearance. The outfit that complimented you beautifully was now stained with your blood. Your face was white and he noticed that the tears had dried on your face. You were trying to breathe but it hurt too much.  

     “Y/N, you’re going to be okay. I’m here for you.” Jeno was quick, letting his hands heal you with the most gentleness he had in him. He ripped open your tunic where it had been sliced open. There was an open wound that ran from the top of your shoulder blade to the middle of your chest. It was so bloody and messy that Jeno feared that it’d get infected. Jeno looked in his bag for a piece of ambrosia to feed you so the pain would numb.

     You felt the full effects of the ambrosia but said nothing as you watched Jeno work on healing you. Jeno knew that you had been wounded for quite some time. He put pressure on your shoulder and chest and you almost screamed at the burning pain. He waited and checked to see if the gash had stopped bleeding profusely. Thankfully it had.

     From his first aid kit he took out necessary items to clean the wound so there would be no infections. You felt a stinging pain but Jeno kept whispering words of encouragement. He cleaned up the blood around your wound. What Jeno didn’t like was the fact that your wound had seemed to heal where the cut was. This meant that if he had to stitch you up he would have to reopen your wound to stitch it back together properly. He seemed to be against this thought, not wanting to cause you further pain if he could help it. The only difference would have been the size of the scar at the end of the healing process. He decided against the idea.

     “You will be fine my love. You will heal.” Jeno stared into your eyes lovingly for a moment and returned to finish his work. When he was done he saw that your breathing was regulating and that the color was returning to your face. You looked up at Jeno with a lot of respect and appreciation. Perhaps with even more love than before. Jeno leaned in as he let his forehead rest upon yours, his hands gingerly cradled your face. 

     “Who did this to you? Tell me and I’ll make them regret ever approaching you.” Your voice was slightly shaky but Jeno listened to you closely.

     “A monster. It attacked me and I was able to turn it into dust but not before it sliced my skin open. It hurt so much.” Jeno couldn’t will the tears that welled in his eyes to stop. They dropped onto your face and you could see the pent up frustration that Jeno wore on his soft features. 

     “I’m so sorry. I should have been here for you. I should have protected you from danger.” You frowned and you let yourself speak before thinking.

     “You didn’t want me.” Jeno opened his eyes and leaned back a bit. Confusion was written on his face.

     “What?” You let out a ragged breath.

     “You told Jaemin you didn’t want me. I was just a nuisance in your life. You think me to be naive and clumsy. I am not good with archery even though it’s my father’s weapon. You hurt me too because you wanted me to disappear.” Jeno could feel his heart ripping away piece by piece. 

    “No my love, no. I do admit that I said those horrid things about you. When you disappeared I was in a state of distress. I missed you so much-”

     “So you took my love for granted?” Jeno said nothing at this. He now stood where his father once stood. His love was being questioned and pushed away. It hurt immensely but this he brought onto himself. He wondered if this was his punishment for hurting you.

     “I do not take it for granted any longer. Let me atone for my wrongdoings. I promise to give you my love unconditionally.” Jeno could see the doubt swimming in your eyes and he feared for your answer.

     “Promise me you won’t hurt me in this way again. We can start over.” Jeno let out a sigh of relief. He was afraid that you would have not wanted to see him ever again. Jeno knew that he would never be able to heal that pain if you decided to push him away. He waited for a few seconds before speaking again.

     “I’m Lee Jeno, son of Apollo. Who are you?”  

     You smiled gently as you let your hand caress through his blonde locks. The nymphs all around you giggled as they watched two lovers interact with one another.

     “I’m Y/N, a child of Eros.” Jeno let himself be taken away by you. He would let himself be taken away by your love a thousand times and more. 

     Jeno finally let all the burdens fall down from his shoulders as he held you and you’d come to realize that Jeno looked more beautiful when he was free from all the hate and anger.

[apprenticevida]

Leave A Mark 🍋 🔞

Word Count: 1484

Pairings: Asra/Vida

Synopsis: Asra helps Vida acclimate to the party

Notes: @midsummer-masquerade Day 1, Marking. Baby’s first lemon, please clap.

Warnings: lemon, minors dni, magic donger, PiV, love bites, impact play

It was too hot for the cloak, Vida decided, and they boarded the carriage without shame.

The shots they had taken before the carriage arrived helped them make the decision. Their head was filled with the delightful fuzz that kept them from over-thinking. The ride itself didn’t take long at all; they were still pleasantly buzzed when they arrived at the palace.

They milled about with the other masked revelers, but couldn’t bring themself to proposition anyone yet. Everyone was so beautiful and well-dressed. They felt out of their depth.

A servant bearing drinks had walked by, and Vida allowed themself one glass of golden goose before they went looking for anyone they recognized.

As luck would have it, Asra found them first. The deer mask wasn’t hard to find, he only needed to follow the distinct mix of their magic to find Vida.

“How are you enjoying the masquerade?” Asra needed to yell for their voice to be heard.

“A little… overwhelming.” Vida shouted in response. “Everyone is so pretty. I feel out of place.”

Asra’s brows furrowed under their mask. They drew a quick sigil in the air and the sounds around the duo dimmed.

“Is it the crowd?” His soft voice could always soothe Vida. “We can talk somewhere else, they have rooms set up all over the palace.”

Vida reached for his hand and brought it to their lips. “I don’t want to pull you away from the fun.”

In response, Asra pulled Vida close and whispered in their ear. “It’s not like we can’t have fun ourselves.”

——

It didn’t take long to find an available room. The walls were draped with silks and there was a circle of pillows in the center of the floor. One wall had bottles of various drinks and liquors, another had an assortment of finger foods. There was even a small hookah set up in the center of the pillow circle. Asra pulled Vida close as they sat in the plush cushions on the floor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Asra made himself comfortable and lounged along one pillow, an arm draped against Vida’s hips.

“I think it’s… it’s a lot all at once.” Vida flushed as they grabbed one of the hookah’s mouthpieces to take a drag. “This is my first midsummer masquerade. I’m worried I might have bitten off more than I can chew.”

“You’re dressed like an expert, though.” Asra cooed, letting their fingers trace invisible patterns along Vida’s thigh. “It makes me happy that you’re wearing the mask I gave you, too.”

Vida’s smile was broad and genuine. “Of course I wore it! It’s probably one of my favorite things.” They turn to look Asra in the eyes. “I like wearing the things you give me.”

The light in the room was dim, but Vida was certain that Asra’s pupils had dilated just from their words.

He sat up then, brushing the hair off Vida’s shoulder. “I… I could give you another thing to wear tonight. So if you get overwhelmed you know I’m always close by.”

Vida doesn’t look away. Instead they lean in towards their friend, their heart.

“I think I’d like that,” They breathe more than say.

Asra’s lips are soft on their skin. His hands warm as they gently hook around the neckline of their robe. At first Vida tries to pull Asra closer, but he’s already used magic to keep their wrists bound by their legs.

“I want to just focus on you.” His warm breath ghosts against their neck before giving kitten licks along the sensitive tendon under their skin.

What started as a low moan turns into a gasp as Vida feels their lover bite into the spot. They press their thighs together to relieve the pressure building in their core. The heat intensifies when Asra hums in delight, worrying the skin between his teeth.

Asra’s hands begin to tug the robe past Vida’s shoulders. “Is this alright?” He asks as he kisses a path down to their sternum.

Vida can only provide a breathless “yesssss” in response, eyes closed and head nodding rapidly. The familiar fog of blissful surrender floods their head too much to properly respond

“Will you tell me if it gets to be too much?” Asra licks the swell of Vida’s breast as he peels away the flimsy bodice. He begins to suck on one pebbled nipple while massaging the other with his hand.

When Vida doesn’t respond beyond a guttural moan, Asra decides to play dirty.

A cruel twist of the fingers pulls their Vida back to them.

Asra tsks in mock disapproval. “You’re as bad as Ilya. I suppose you’re just mere seconds from begging for permission to come for me, too?”

“Please!” Vida’s too far gone for shame. “Yes, Please! I’m so close. I want you—” Asra pulls them to straddle his lap as they begin to ramble. “Please, I want you to make me come.”

“How do you want me to make you come, my heart?” There’s that familiar smug snake smile on his lips as he lays back again, hands drifting from Vida’s breasts, down their waist, across their inner thighs and back again.

“I don’t— Anything! Fingers, mouth, magic, I don’t care!” They begin to grind against Asra, their slick arousal soaking everything below.

“Make a choice or I’ll have to keep you waiting while I decide for you.” Asra decides to nudge things along with a swipe of his thumb against their bare clit.

What comes out their mouth is a combination of curse, cry, and thanks, but not an answer.

“Vida.” Asra’s voice takes a disciplinary tone. He grabs hold of their dark curls and yanks them down to him.

Vida’s eyes go wide, pupils swallowing their brown eyes black.

“Cock,” they gasp. “Please, Master, let me come on your cock.”

“How should I take you?” Asra asks themself more than Vida, “From below, with you bound? I could be on top, fucking you with your legs in the air…”

With each option Asra thrusts their hips against Vida. Vida feels Asra pool magic together to form the cock they’re begging for and their cunt clenches on nothing. But they know exactly how they want to be fucked.

“From behind! Please, Master!”

“Like some bitch in heat? Is that what you are?”

“Yes!!” They cry as they grind faster into Asra’s hard cock.

It takes a moment before they realize their magic bonds have dissipated.

“Turn around then.”

Vida scrambles off their master to turn around, bending over to present their soaking cunt to Asra.

They can hear Asra as he undoes his robes and kneels behind them. When they feel Asra’s cock brush against their folds they keen and push back to take as much as possible.

A loud smack pushes their hips forward when Asra swats their ass. Vida can already see stars and they sob in frustration and submission.

“No, if I’m going to fuck you like a bitch, you are going to take what you master chooses to give you.” Asra grips their ass, kneading the rapidly forming red handprint. Distantly Asra mourns that this mark will be hidden from most partygoers, but makes do with knowing his love bites are visible and numerous.

When Vida’s whimpers a plea, Asra thrusts to the hilt all at once. The warm wetness engulfs him readily and the two moan in unison. Setting a brutal pace, the slap of flesh on flesh joins their cries.

It takes all of Vida’s concentration not to come without permission. As much as they love punishment, they crave Asra’s approval more.

When Asra finally commands Vida to come, they collapse onto their forearms as their cunt spasms around their Master.

They feel his warm chest against their back as he continues to rut into them. Then, the sharp teeth as Asra bites into the meat between shoulder and neck. His hand wraps around Vida to rub their clit, spurring a second orgasm before recovering from the first. Their scream of pleasure turns into chants of “yes” and “please” and ”Master” until Asra gives one last command:

“Come with me, Vida.”

Their cunt milks Asra’s release and they cry out together.

When their breathing slows, Asra pulls out and watches their spend leak from their lover’s hole.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, getting up to grab a rag and water from one of the tables.

Vida’s smile when Asra returns is full of love and blissful admiration. “So are you, Corazón.”

Asra helps Vida sit up and lets her drink first before gently wiping their combined release from their thighs.

“Feel better?” They ask as they kiss the marks on their neck.

“So much.” Vida sighs at Asra’s touch. “Thank you.”

“Are you ready to go back out there?”

“Almost. Could you hold me for a little longer?”

“Anything for you, my heart.”

[houseisekai]

House Isekai: Shadowbringers Act 2, Part 2 - By the time you hear this...

House Isekai Shadowbringers AU Masterlist Here

—

Upon discovering the true identity of Lahabrea, The Golden Deer and Investigation Team move deeper into the Zanado Tower.

It is there where they make a discovery that pushes them, and everyone in Fodlan into a race against time...

—

Unknown Tower, Zanado

[A Long Fall - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

Claude and Yu moved first towards the crates with their weapons drawn.

The rest of the Golden Deer and Investigation Team followed behind, slowly looking around.

Yu opened the crates and bags of food. It was clear by the dust on them that they had been here for a very long while.

Claude came closer and examined one of the bags, picking it up.

Claude opened the bag, and small blocks of meat fell out of it.

(Claude) “...Huh.”

The meat hadn’t spoiled. In fact, it looked brand new. 

He took another look at the crate, and it appeared that the food had been here for a while.

(Yu) “That doesn’t make any sense. How is the food still fresh?”

Lorenz, Hilda, Yosuke, and Naoto moved up the stairs, taking note of the planks of wood, crates, and lanterns as they were passing by.

Some of them were sawn in half while others appeared to have been unused.

The wood was nailed onto the walls and crates stacked on top of each other were in front of them. 

As they moved up, there were other stairs that appeared to lead higher into the tower but the path with the open door caught their attention.

(Lorenz) “Has someone already been in here?”

(Hilda) “It must be that Lahabrea guy, er...was it Byleth?”

(Yosuke) “We’ll cross that road when we get to it. For now let’s keep our eyes peeled, yeah?”

(Naoto) “Yu-senpai, up here!”

(Hilda) “Claude, get your butt up here!”

Everyone moved up the stairs after they finished investigating.

(Chie) “We didn’t seem to find much, other than supplies.”

(Leonie) “Looks like a bunch of people were here working on this place. Though, I doubt it only took some magic and wood to create this entire place.”

(Lysithea) “No, it seems they were trying to keep something out.”

Everyone nervously looked at each other after hearing that.

Just how big was this tower?

(Teddie) “No use waiting, let’s go in!”

Teddie ran to the open doorway and was ready to fight, the others quickly following behind.

(Ignatz) “T-Teddie! We have to stick together and!-...”

(Teddie) “JEEZ, THIS ROOM IS HUUUUGE!”

Teddie stepped near the edge and his eyes almost went out of his bear suit.

(Kanji) “Holy shit!”

(Marianne) “H-How is this area so big?!”

(Rise) “My Persona’s scans are going off the charts! There’s so much happening and-”

Everyone reached for their heads as they heard Claude’s voice echo through the halls.

“As big class reunions go, this one’s gotta be the worst in history...”

KABOOOOOOM!

The tower shook violently, throwing people off their feet and into the ground.

(Claude) “Never thought the sound of my own voice would be that annoying...!”

(Yu) “I don’t think this is a good time to be cracking jokes.”

Everyone was trying to steady themselves before they heard something in the distance.

clang! clang!

(Raphael) “Hey, I think I hear people fighting!”

Raphael pointed to the end of the walkway, with a glowing circle-like shape at the end of it.

(Raphael) “It sounds like it’s coming from over there!”

Everyone went over near the glowing circle, and it began to flash repeatedly.

(Yukiko) “Um, what does that mean-”

Leonie took a step into it, which catapulted all of them forward into another walkway, soaring high above a massive gap that fell deep into the tower.

When they landed, it prematurely cut off their screaming as they fell onto their backs and stomachs.

(Yosuke) “Ack, I think I cracked my ass...!”

(Claude) “Leonie, next time WARN US before you do that!”

(Leonie) “S-Sorry! I didn’t know it would-”

She was cut off as they were suddenly transported into a massive open field in the middle of battle.

Before they could realize what was happening, Naoto turned around and her eyes went wide.

(Naoto) “EVERYONE GET DOWN, NOW!”

Turning to see what was coming, they all screamed and dove onto the floor, a massive fireball hurling itself past and landing behind the group.

Claude looked up to see himself running into the front, firing arrows into incoming Imperial soldiers.

The group got up and slowly backed up, watching Alliance soldiers follow and move in front of Claude.

(Hilda) “Wait a second, isn’t this?-...”

Hilda saw herself in the distance, fighting off Imperial and Kingdom soldiers as she and several others moved towards a hill.

(Yu) “Gronder Field?! But how did we-”

The entire battlefield began to flash before they were returned back to the Tower where they landed.

(Chie) “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

(Lorenz) “I-I don’t know. It looked like Gronder Field, and that certainly was us but-...”

(Ignatz) “I don’t remember us fighting the Kingdom soldiers. We were just fighting the Imperials!”

(Claude) “Yeah, and I wasn’t fighting the soldiers. Just Edelgard and Dimitri until Lahabrea and Byleth stopped us.”

(Naoto) "Wait a moment, do you remember what Lahabrea said when he was fighting the professor? They were teleported to that future since their subconscious had those memories. What if we went to Gronder in that time because you had been there before?"

(Claude) "...That was us from...those previous times? Man, thats weird to say."

(Yu) "Then what about our voices? Do you think we're going to be encountering our memories too?"

Everyone looked deeper into the tower before hearing echoes of more voices.

(Hilda) "Guess there's only one way to find out..."

Everyone held their weapons tightly and ran down the walkway, only now noticing that some of the platforms were moving on their own.

Some were carrying an assortment of supplies while some were empty.

There was another circle pad at the end of the hallway, which made everyone stop and look at their leaders.

Claude nodded and waited a moment for everyone to brace themselves. He stepped onto the pad and as expected, launched them into the air onto another walkway.

This time everyone landed on both feet, and carried on, noticing the memories of the past flashing more and more.

As they began to run down the next walkway, they were transported to another location, one unfamiliar to the Golden Deer.

The area suddenly became foggy, reducing everyone’s vision to almost nothing.

(Raphael) “Fog?”

The Investigation Team paused for a moment before Yukiko put on glasses.

(Yukiko) “Put your glasses on!”

The rest of the team put on their glasses and their vision became clear as day.

(Rise) “...Yeah, readings are almost accurate to our world’s Midnight Channel!”

(Lorenz) “How in the world do those glasses allow you to see through this fog?!”

(Lysithea) “It’s so thick I can’t even see my hands in front of me!”

(Chie) “Long story short, Teddie made these for us specifically for the Midnight Channel, otherwise these things are useless! So the fact it’s working now-”

(Kanji) “This being transported to recreations of our memories shit is serious!”

(Naoto) “How far does this go?”

The area began to flash a bright white before fading away, putting the groups back to their original location.

As they moved to the end of the walkway, there was a pad that seemed to send them down, deeper into the tower.

(Claude) “Let’s keep going for-”

An arrow whizzed by his head, making everyone duck down and look towards the direction it came from.

(Hilda) “WOAH!”

A soldier in an orange glow was loading up another arrow before Naoto drew her gun and pulled the trigger.

The bullet went straight through the phantom soldier but it still acted as if it was hit, then quickly faded away into a burst of energy.

(Yu) “Something tells me we should move a little faster...”

(Raphael) “Then let’s stop talking and go!”

Raphael stepped onto the pad, catapulting him deeper into the tower. Everyone else followed him and quickly, yet gently floated towards the bottom.

The size of the interior was almost staggering, a massive glowing crystal in the middle of the room led down to a seemingly bottomless green pit. 

After a minute of floating down, they finally reached the bottom.

As they took in their surroundings, they noticed a massive door, with the crystal core looming over them.

The group approached the door, looking for some way to open it.

(Ignatz) “There doesn’t seem to be a lever anywhere.”

(Yosuke) “No button, handle...is this an automatic door?”

(Yukiko) “If that’s the case, what opens it? Clearly people don’t.”

(Rise) “Maybe there’s some kind of keycard?”

(Lorenz) “A...key card?”

(Chie) “It’s something from our world. Normally I’d say you guys don’t have the technology to have anything similar to ours but this entire tower...”

(Lysithea) “Hey, there’s something over here on the crate!”

Lysithea picked it up and showed it to the group.

(Teddie) “It’s...a crystal rectangle?”

(Leonie) “Sorta looks like that crystal message thing from earlier.”

(Marianne) “Is there a way to let us hear the message?”

(Naoto) “May I?”

Lysithea shrugged and handed it to Naoto. As soon as she came into contact with it, the crystal began glowing.

(Soldier’s voice) “By the time you hear this, I’ll be dead, so don’t bother trying to save me! Just...Get the hell out of here! This...This door, I don’t know who, or when it was made, but it...It goes into your mind! N-No, that’s not right, It takes you- O-oh GODDESS! HELP, NO-----...........”

(Everyone) ?!

(Yu) “What in the...?”

(Hilda) “What the heck happened?!”

(Kanji) “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t mess with this shit after all-”

Before anyone could another comment, the door slowly began to open, emitting an orange glow.

(Claude) “Tch, too late!”

Everyone drew their weapons expecting something to appear.

Instead, when the door open, everyone slowly felt a force pushing them in.

(Teddie) “H-Hey, my footing is-”

A violent shockwave blew out from the door, knocking everyone off their feet as it dragged them into the glowing orange light.

(Hilda) “GAH?!”

(Claude) “DAMN IT, EVERYONE TRY TO GRAB ONTO-”

Claude was the first to enter, completely vanishing from sight.

Lorenz was almost next to fall in, but Yukiko grabbed his hand and summoned her Persona to grab her.

(Yukiko) “S-So...Strong!”

Marianne, Rise, and Teddie were the next ones absorbed into the door, everyone struggling to even muster the strength to resist.

A final shockwave forced everyone into the door as their bodies leapt from the ground, into the light, Yu being the last one to enter.

...

[Song End]

...

Yu flew outwards from the portal and landed face first into the hard surface of the ground.

As his vision started to clear up, he could hear everyone groaning from the pain of their landing.

The area they were in was extremely claustrophobic, with a table in the middle, and some furniture and decorations most of them didn’t recognize.

(Teddie) “MMMMMFFF!”

(Raphael) “Oh, crap I think I’m crushing him!”

(Lysithea) “Then get off of him, don’t just say you are!”

Raphael quickly got up, only to see Teddie completely flattened.

(Hilda) “EUGH! Ugh, I’ll never get used to that!”

(Teddie) “Sh...Shaddup!”

Rise and Yosuke helped Yu up as everyone else tried to recover from the fall.

(Rise) “Senpai, are you alright?

(Yu) “I’m fine, Rise. Where are we?”

(Yosuke) “I don’t think we took the time to actua-?!”

Yosuke’s eyes grew wide as he looked around.

(Yu) “What is i-...?!”

Yu had the same reaction as Yosuke once he recognized the room.

(Claude) “Yu, recognize this place?”

(Yu) “It’s my room!”

(Hilda) “Huh?”

The Investigation Team looked around and quickly realized he was telling the truth.

(Kanji) “Think it’s one of those memory flashes from before?”

(Naoto) “It’s hard to say. I think it would have gone away by now if it was-”

knock knock knock!

(Little girl’s voice) “H-Hello? Is anyone in there?”

Marianne and Ignatz were closest to the door, and reached for their weapons before Yu put a hand on both of them.

(Yu) “N...N-Nanako?”

(Nanako) “Huh? Big bro?”

Yu opened the door and let her in, shocking everyone.

(Claude) “Has...any of the phantoms acknowledged our presence besides wanting to kill us?”

Nanako looked extremely confused looking at the Golden Deer.

(Nanako) “Who are they? And what are they saying?”

(Hilda) “Huh? Can you not understand us sweetie?”

(Nanako) “...?”

(Yosuke) “Nana-chan, you understand what we’re saying right?”

(Nanako) “Yes...? I’m really confused right now...”

(Dojima’s voice) “Nanako! Is everything alright up there?”

(Nanako) “Yeah! It’s just big bro and his friends!”

(Yu) “Dojima too?”

Yu motioned everyone to follow him downstairs, including Nanako.

At first Dojima looked confused seeing Yu and the Investigation Team come down the stairs. The last thing he remembered was seeing Yu and his friends off at the train station. That was just yesterday.

He was about to say something before seeing the Golden Deer right behind them, carrying all sorts of weapons.

(Naoto) “H-Hello, Dojima-san.”

(Claude) “Yeesh, this is awkward. How do we even begin this?”

(Lorenz) “Greetings, we are part of the Leicester Alliance!”

(Dojima) “Er...What language are they speaking?”

(Marianne) “Certainly not like that...”

(Dojima) “No first of all, how the hell did you all get into the house? We haven’t even left all day!”

Teddie ran up to Dojima and began poking him.

(Dojima) “H-Hey, back off!”

(Teddie) “SENSEI, HE’S REAL!”

(Everyone) ?!

[Paradisaical Predicaments - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

(Chie) “Woah woah woah, hang on! We’re really back in Inaba?!”

(Nanako) “What are you all talking about? Are you guys okay?”

Kanji and Rise rushed to the back doors and opened it, seeing it was a bright and sunny day.

(Kanji) “No orange shi-...crap as far as I can see.”

(Rise) “I’m sensing something nearby us-...W-Why can I still sense things?! We’re not in the Midnight Channel or Fodlan!”

Lysithea pulled out a tome and snapped her fingers, a black flame appearing at the very tip.

(Lysithea) “I can still cast magic?”

Nanako and Dojima started to get more on edge as both groups were testing their own theories out.

(Yu) “Everyone stand back, there’s one last test we need to do...”

Yu adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, holding out his hand.

(Yu) “Izanagi!”

A tarot card appeared floating above his hand, which he crushed into pieces, summoning his Persona right behind him.

(Dojima) “WHAT IN THE?!”

(Nanako) “Dad?!”

Yu turned to face Izanagi, frowning at the fact he was able to summon his Persona. Izanagi quickly disappeared at Yu’s command.

(Yukiko) “T-That should be impossible!”

(Leonie) “Is it not normal for you guys to be able to summon those?”

(Yosuke) “NOT IN THE REAL WORLD!”

(Chie) “O-Oh my god, this is too much to handle!”

(Dojima) “Hang on just a damn second, who are these people, and what is even happening?!”

Claude froze when he realized what Rise said.

(Claude) “...Rise, what exactly were you sensing?”

(Rise) “Um...it’s a signature similar to something we fight called a Shadow.”

Everyone turned to Rise.

(Yu) “...Where?”

The entire house shook violently as a roar came from outside.

Everyone dashed outside to find a mass of black clouds forming with arms and glowing red eyes.

People screamed in horror seeing what was happening outside, and ran for their lives in the opposite direction.

Nanako ran behind Dojima, her legs trembling as he reached for his gun.

(Yu) “There’s no denying it, we’re really back home-”

(Yosuke) “But how are shadows able to form in the real world?!”

(Dojima) “GET DOWN, NOW!”

Dojima opened fire at the shadows, which they quickly disappeared into orange glowing light.

(Claude) “BEHIND YOU!”

Claude raised his bow and fired an arrow behind Dojima, killing another Shadow that was sneaking up on them.

(Dojima) “Thanks.”

Rise gasped as she summoned her Persona and began scanning the shadows.

(Rise) “These signatures, they’re starting to match the phantoms from the tower!”

(Hilda) “What?! How?! We’re not even in Fo-”

KAFOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The ground shook violently as if an earthquake struck Inaba, the screaming of everyone getting louder.

(Kanji) “Holy shit, EVERYONE, OVER THERE!”

Kanji pointed towards the direction of the riverbed, where they saw the Zanado Tower.

(Marianne) “How did it...!?”

(Yu) “We have to get back to Fodlan, Rise how dangerous are these shadows?!”

(Rise) “A-A little but I think the police or armed forces can deal with them, seeing how quickly Dojima and Claude killed them!”

(Dojima) “Yu, do you know what’s going on?!”

(Claude) “Tell your uncle we have to go, can they defend themselves?!”

(Dojima) “Go where, exactly?! Who even are you?!”

(Claude) “We’re going back to...!!!...You...You understand me now?”

(Dojima) “I...I can. I can?”

(Lysithea) “What...?! Wait a second, the Investigation Team was only able to understand us and vice versa because they came to Fodlan. Does that mean...?!”

Naoto quickly looked back at the Tower, the skies started to lose the color of its blue into a pale white.

(Yu) “Dojima, we’ll be back as soon as we can. Hold out until then.”

Dojima looked at the tower, then back to the group.

(Dojima) “...Be careful, Yu.”

(Nanako) “Stay safe, big bro...”

Yu nodded and held onto his Katana’s sheathe, everyone rushing towards the Tower.

Tokyo, Leblanc Cafe...

Sojiro washed the cups and half-heartedly listened to the TV until breaking news came on, catching everyone’s attention.

(Reporter) “This just in, several unknown towers have seemingly materialized out of nowhere in 3 locations, a town called Inaba out in the country, Tokyo, and Tatsumi Port Island!”

Sojiro stopped washing the cups as everyone in the cafe began to mutter to themselves. He frowned and went outside and onto the street, finding a massive half crystal half red rock tower piercing the skies.

(Sojiro) “What in the hell...?”

He took out his phone and tried calling Futaba.

...

No luck.

She had only been missing for a day, and he couldn’t seem to call Akira or any of the other former Phantom Thieves.

Part of him wondered if they had something to do with this...

Tatsumi Port Island, Kirijo Group Headquarters

(Officer) “What did the scanners say about those towers?!”

(Officer 2) “Sir, shadow presence is confirmed but...something’s off with them. It’s like it’s half shadow half...”

(Officer) “Half what?!”

(Officer 2) “We don’t know sir, we’ve never seen anything like it before.”

(Officer) “Get the anti-shadow weapons deployed before too many people are harmed, whatever it is, we need to stop this! Get the S.E.E.S operatives on the line, now!”

(Officer 2) “Yes sir!”

Fodlan, outskirts of Derdriu

As the group was walking quietly, the Persona Users suddenly dropped to their knees, grabbing their heads and wincing in pain.

(Akira) “AAAGH!”

(Minato) “S-Shit!”

(Minako) “M-My head...!”

(Edelgard) “Healers, NOW!”

(Kazuma) “The hell?! What’s going on?!”

(Rean) “A-Are they getting more of those weird voices?”

(Ainz) “If that’s the case, why aren’t we getting it?”

Lahabrea and Sothis looked at each other with unease.

(Sothis) “Do you think its...?”

(Lahabrea) “There’s no other explanation, it has to be. EVERYONE, MOVE IT TO DERDRIU, NOW! PICK THEM UP IF YOU HAVE TO!”

The healers tried to help the Persona users, but to no avail. Eventually some had to be carried and helped as they walked.

Sitri let Minako’s arm go over her shoulder and moved with the rest of the group.

(Sitri) “Minako, can you understand what’s going on?”

(Minako) “A...A tower...?”

Sitri only looked more confused as Sothis and Lahabrea tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

(Sothis) “We’re running out of time, if we don’t activate this plan-”

(Lahabrea) “I know...”

He closed his eyes and sighed.

(Lahabrea) “I know.”

Part 2: END

[This Beautiful Cruel World - Attack On Titan OST]

Your dream is where your heart is

It’s something more fragile than life itself

No matter how many times you throw it away, you still find it

So rest in peace now

Your wish is violated by your pulsing urge

and as much as you forget about it, you recall it again

In this beautiful and cruel world

We only ask “why” we’re still alive…

Ah, what are we going to protect

with our strength and weakness? If reason no longer exists

TO BE CONTINUED IN: