#and then afterwards you get to argue with him! and be petty and horrible and poke at wounds you know he has!

[s4ndg3m]

I wanna know ur wallmark divorce headcannons so bad

okokok. i had to type these all up separately so i could organize my ideas. i have like more in my head but they're hard to put into words so this is what you get

cw for alchoholism and general relationship issues. putting it all under the cut. remember these are just my headcanons and thoughts, nothing concrete.

General issues

Conflicting ideals on future life- Wallter being much more of a city guy, while mark prefers a rural setting.

Communication issues- Instead of talking things out they get accusatory and defensive, which means most talks end up arguments.

Further communication issues- They geniunely cannot understand the other half of the time. Wallter will attempt to be subtle in his communication, dropping hints instead of just flat out saying what he wants. Mark cannot pick up on these. Mark's direct communication sometimes comes across as rude and aggressive to Wallter.

General conflict- They have some shared interests, but there's also a lot of things that are important to them that they don't agree on. Like building materials, however silly that might sound.

Mark's issues

Alcoholism- Bit of A drunkard. He insists it isn't an issue but it is when it interferes with plans he and Wallter already had. "It would be weird if I didn't have a few with the boys after a job well done!"

Short-tempered- Which causes even more arguments over small things. (Def not physically abusive toward Wallter, even when drunk)

Abrasive personality- Mark would be more likely to make jabs or meaner jokes because he thinks everyone can take it. He wouldn't understand why someone would get upset over a joke.

He snores really loud- To the point where Wallter usually can't sleep. It builds tensions between them cus either Wallter is sleep-deprived or they never sleep in the same bed.

Dismissive- Wallter will ask/tell him about something that bothers him or something he wants as a gift for a holiday, but Mark usually won't listen.

Oblivious- Won't pick up on hints that Wallter drops, no matter the context.

Wallter's issues

Grey stuff. Wallter loves it, Mark loathes it. They argue over it.

Petty- Incredibly petty. Will make snide comments at Mark when he's upset about something.

Silent- He doesn't help at all with the communication issue, because he just flat out won't say anything! Until it's a big issue, of course. He might make hints but Mark cannot pick up on them.

Insistent on his own opinions- He will often push Mark to think like he does, instead of accepting their differences. It gets frustrating for Mark when he's constantly having to defend his thoughts.

Pretentious- Would absolutely try and take the moral high ground during arguments. He thinks talking in a level tone and not shouting means he's in the right, when really he's the one instigating most of the arguments.

Jealousy- I think he'd be the jealous type. He'd interrogate Mark about his friends and question his honesty often.

~~

I don't think there was one thing that caused the divorce, but a buildup of tension and frustration over the years of their marriage that was never managed. i think they both wanted it to work, even afterward, but neither of them are willing enough to see their issues and work on them. Even then, they kind of ruined the idea of a life with one another because of how horribly their marriage ended.

anyway these are just my initial thoughts on the two. enjoy!

[the-firebird69]

Now they're going to get rid of each other and prove that they're useless and they don't understand it cuz they're stupid that we do now we can't stand them to defeat the Mac property you need a bunch of armies not just foreigners and us and they're losers and we hate them.

--so they keep on mocking us and saying all sorts of s*** and doing their own thing they're going to bomb us so we're going to take everything from them and force them to fight the Mac proper coming up soon and all die and they don't like us at all and hate us and they say it every few minutes it's time for them to leave and of course we can do it and they don't want to negotiate don't feel they have to so they're not going to and it's happening right now

--these leaders went up North they started causing trouble they're talking to a lot of people of their own telling them what to do urging them to do stuff and coming up with missions for them and it is a huge day we have a lot of stuff to do but they went up there yesterday they're going up there today and the pseudo empire and empire noted it grabbed a bunch of them and have their plan they're starting to argue they're going to go back up there today and this weekend and around January 2nd the first state secedes and every week or so another state and they sit there and stick in their face say they're not going to follow federal law lots of them get arrested it it slows down and then they're faced with the war from down south and the timing is about right when those canals will open and they end up fighting on two fronts and the minority warlock don't like them and they're playing as if they're the empire proper and they're telling them not to because they're going to kill them if they do and they keep doing it and doing it and before you know it they will be in a full-blown war and that's coming up pretty soon too and yeah our son is pushing it so he doesn't have to worry about the septica clogging because of his methodology of not allowing the water to get fixed it's one of the big reasons why Jason is in the grave and people don't pay attention to him and he's a petty loser and we're talking about Trump so this war is going to crush them in the south and they call people from all over and they start to go pretty quick it's like one of the final blows before they fall and what a bunch of assholes and losers that's going to happen and you're worthless people but the cavern will drop people get sick and most likely will drop Sunday night maybe Monday but probably Sunday night it'll go to Wednesday get sick a lot of you will die a lot of you will get sick and the tip of Florida will take about 10 days to fall from that point yes so we're thinking the funeral would have to be probably that weekend and it says no the other one would be afterwards too and it's true so it's still looking at the 11th but there's other people and other things happening and it is growing it's becoming a big issue huge numbers of people are starting to fight each other and it won't stop out at Babcock ranch the war is heating up not cooling and it's all over the world with Jason versus Trump is a massive fight and getting worse it's a big conflict already giant numbers all of them dying to keep someone in there who usually it's kind of helpful but as Governor he has been doing some things that are horrible state of emergency trying to kidnap everybody any kidnap people and he's a nightmare doesn't have a s*** together grab you again and people don't want to go through it so they're not really helping them there's a bunch of stuff happening because of it they're both losing positions. And they're losing positions globally as Mayors and governors and police Chiefs and it's happening because of their fight and their dwindling all over the place and soon gone it is systemic and there are several fights like it Stan is fighting them too and losing his group is not supporting him anymore and he is going down and it's ugly. His story is coming up fast just like Trump these people are going to be gone. Jason is going to be gone he falls to Lily and Sherry. It's going to be over for them fairly soon and they don't think so it's over for Trump before January 20th and a whole list of people

But the story is going to take off when he gets out and he and she will be Jason and Michael Myers again then they get in trouble there's a period where they go after ships and they hover over cities it's not for a long time. There's some red tide it's in the Park area no it's further south that is kind of caused by it because the water heated up and it's just a quagmire that's going to clear out in the next couple days with salt water and for real it's saving a lot of lives cuz that stuff is violently bad.

The timing of these guys taking off is going to be quick it has to do the cities that are according to off and the war with the pseudo empire it's heating up right now and the pseudo empire is taking some hits and hitting back it's going to get very violent very soon and the people who are running things are going to be attacked then they can't figure it out.

--there's a large amount of people who are going to be killed and they're in line to be president are you will see when one guy dies the next in line starts chirping that they will be president out of the current administration and that's kind of how it goes it's just temporary though and they have another election but that might take a year and supposed to this is going to be a real bummer but during this period of unrest because we have to and it's a must. The time frame is going to be aggressive on a big list of people so we're going to print

Thor Freya

Olympus

[allisonlol]

jouno and tecchou breakup hcs plss🙁.

a/n: ANON ARE U TRYING TO MAKE ME CRY ?? bc ur gonna succeed at that

warnings: toxic behavior, arguing (primarily in jouno's section), breakups, all that angsty stuff 💔

Jouno + Tecchou Breakup HC’s

Jouno

i feel like it takes a very specific person to get along with jouno enough for him to want to pursue a romantic relationship with them

and if, over time, he notices more and more that you're just not a good match for him he won't hesitate to cut ties

if he's the one who ended the relationship, don't expect to hear too much from him afterwards

will basically just...disappear from your life and not bother to reach out to you again

however, if you were the one to end the relationship for whatever reason...

he is honestly the worst in this situation

becomes incredibly petty and cynical towards you

it's absolute hell if the two of you have the same profession & are forced to work together

goes out of his way to either avoid you at all costs, or belittle you and drop degrading comments whenever it's impossible to do the former

this is, obviously, extremely upsetting on top of the usual stress that your job already provides

don't bother confronting him about this because it'll be a pretty one sided argument...he'll barely acknowledge you and will laugh at how emotional you get

i hate to say this about my fav but...he becomes very toxic

even though, in this instance, you were the one who broke up with him, you wind up feeling more hurt because of how cold and uncaring he acts

you could get injured on the job and be near death, and he purposefully wouldn't be the one to rescue you or even bother to check up afterwards

however, you do notice that he'll seem incredibly more serious and uptight for awhile after this occurs

eventually jouno's rude remarks will become few and far between until they stop completely, and he regards you as practically a stranger

won't acknowledge you at all, and will simply brush past you at work without a single hint that he even remembers you

Tecchou

this is gonna make me so sad omg

but here we go

a breakup with tecchou would 100% be one that's a mutual agreement between the two of you

i just...can't see him being able to leave you unless he knew that's what you wanted as well

which is incredibly selfless and shows that he does truly care about you and would never want to make you upset

handles the whole situation very maturely

and honestly? that makes it all the more sad because the both of you were great together and always dealt with things well

definitely the type to stay in contact afterwards and check up on you every now and then

he'll even swing by your place sometimes to drop off food from your favorite restaurant that he "just so happened" to stop by

you see right through him but neither of you comment on it

you're able to maintain a pretty amicable friendship with tecchou beyond this point

which can either be a positive or a negative thing...your choice

the two of you are always assigned together at work, and while it's a bit tense and awkward at first, it's easy for both of you to fall back into rhythm again

he'll never stop looking out for you tbh. just because you guys aren't in a romantic relationship anymore doesn't mean he's going to risk you getting hurt

^am i throwing shade at jouno here? yea

tecchou has to remind himself to distance from you a bit since sometimes, he'll genuinely forget that the two of you had even broken up

definitely is still fond of you platonically

giving off very much "right person, wrong time" vibes

a/n: i made jouno sound so horrible LMAO 💀 this was such a sad req but i hope u still enjoyed !

[persepholline]

I've read that article about the romanticization of the Darkling and while I absolutely understand people who are pissed off/sad and I agree that it's shitty, I find LB's attitude towards Darkles stans very funny in a "girl what are you doing" sort of way because it's so petty like I've never heard of a bestselling author writing a portion of their fans into their books as a crazy cult before, it clearly hit a nerve

I'm new to the fandom but the feeling I get is she wrote something problematic ten years ago and became very embarrassed about it afterwards so she turned on the fans that liked it as a way to absolve herself. Especially since fandoms in general have become a lot more focused on discussion of what constitutes healthy/acceptable relationships to write about. And in a way I get it I had a huge Twilight phase in high school and afterwards I was super embarassed about it because of how problematic and cringe it was. But now with distance and more maturity I'm able to both still see why it was problematic and also why I was drawn to it (mostly the very unhinged representation of female desire) and like...it's really not the end of the world and no it never made me believe that breaking into somebody's room at night to watch them sleep was actually ok in real life lmao. This feels so obvious to me but apparently it needs to be said.

(More under the break this is turning into an essay, I've been thinking of this a lot recently)

And of course it's good to have these discussions about how historically romance tropes have echoed social dynamics of men's shitty behavior being romanticized and excused. But these days they often are so simplistic and focused on chasing clout that they become this weird new puritanism and moral panic about oh now women are reading novels it's going to make them hysterical or something

So you have these weird assumptions that you can't like a character and also be critical of their actions, or enjoy certain parts of a character and not others, or wish they were written differently and like them more for their potential (which I'm sure stings a bit for an author lol) - it assumes that if you like a character it means you would approve of their actions in real life, or that people just stupidly reproduce whatever they see on TV. That tendency to treat fictional characters like real people is the thing that actually worries me, to be honest, because it indicates a lack of distance and critical capacities regarding how stories are used and received. But people - fans and authors - are so scared of being called out as problematic and harassed for it that they're going to shy away from any nuance.

And yeah I think that it's good that standards of what constitutes an ideal relationship are evolving and becoming more feminist and communicative and all that and we definitely need more of that. But not all fiction has to be aspirational! Sometimes you just want to read about fucked up shit, because it's cathartic or fascinating, even healing at times because with fiction you are absolutely in control and can choose when to close the book. Toxic relationships in fiction can have an appeal specifically because they go to extremes of feeling that we don't want to go to in reality, in exactly the same way as horror movies or very violent action movies - which I don't see a lot of people besides fundamentalist Christians argue that they turn you into violent psychopaths (and that feels very obviously sexist). And for women, who are often taught growing up that love is the purpose of life, the "saving someone with your ability to love" can be a power fantasy in the same way that being a buff superhero who saves the day with their capacity for incredible violence can be a power fantasy for men. Still doesn't mean those women are going to fall in love with actual murderers or that those men are going to start beating up people at night. And love is scary, and weird, and weirdly close to horror at times, with all the potential for loss of self and being vulnerable and overwhelming feelings and potential for being horribly hurt and it should be possible for stories to explore that without anybody screaming about how this is going to Corrupt the Youth or something

And I mean I get it LB wanted to write a cautionary tale for teenagers, but it just did not work for reasons a lot of people have already written about - the fact that the Darkling is the leader of an oppressed minority and is the only one with a real political agenda to end that oppression in the first trilogy, the fact that he helps Alina come into her own power while her endgame LI is someone she keeps herself small for, that she's shamed for wanting power after growing up without any, a generally very wonky conception of privilege, and a lot of other stuff with yucky regressive implications to the point where stanning the villain actually feels liberating and empowering which is a surefire sign that the narrative is broken (unless it's a villain focused story lmao). But of course that Fanside article makes almost no mention of the political dynamics, it's all about interpersonal stuff which is an annoying trend in YA, there are those massive events happening in the background but it's made all about the feelings of the hero(ine) ; war as a self-development quest (which is kind of gross). Helnik is kind of an example of this too - I like them, I think they're fun ! But Matthias spends a big part of the story wanting to brutally murder Nina and her kind, and he mostly changes his mind because he finds her hot. Like you don't feel there is some sort of big revelation that his entire moral system and political framework is completely rotten ; it's all better because of feelings now.

As a teenager that kind of sanctimonious bullshit would have annoyed the hell out of me ; I read those books in my early twenties and I found the ending so stupid I wouldn't have trusted any message or life lessons coming from them. And I liked reading/watching dark stuff as a teenager, as a way to deal with the very intense inner turmoil I was dealing with - and I turned out fine ! Meanwhile I've seen several times women in very shitty relationships being obsessed with positive energies and stories ; they were so terrified of their life not being perfectly wholesome they ended up being delusional about their own situations.

Like personally I think the Darkling is a compelling, interesting, alluring character and also a manipulative, murderous piece of shit and that Alina should get to punish him (like in a sexy way) - but he's also the end result of centuries of war, oppression and trauma and reducing that to "toxic wounded boy" feels kind of offensive ngl ESPECIALLY since the books don't offer any kind of systemic analysis or response to oppression beyond "the bad guy should die" and "now the king/queen is a good guy our problems are solved!!!!"

In Lives of the Saints, we see how Yuri is abused extremely badly and almost killed by his father, and so when his father dies when the Fold swallows Novokribirsk, he thinks the Starless Saint has saved him. Later in KoS/RoW he's turned into this fanatic who explains away all the Darkling's crimes. The other followers talk about how the Starless Saint will bring equality for all men. Then the Darkling comes back and actually thinks his followers are pathetic, which feels again like a very pointed message to his IRL stans. Which is absolutely hilarious to me. Like oh no, if he was real he would not like you and think you're pathetic ! Yeah ...but he's not. Real. Damn right he would not like the fics where Alina puts him on a leash. I'm still going to read them. What is he going to do about it, jump out of the page ? Jfjfjjdhfgfjfj

Anyway I think the intended message is "assholes will use noble political causes for their own gain and to manipulate people" and "being abused/oppressed is not an excuse to behave badly." Which. Sure. But that's kind of like...a tired take, honestly ? A big number of villains nowadays are like this ; either they've been bullied as kids, or they're part of an oppressed group, or they have "good ideals but too extreme". This is not surprising because a lot of mainstream heroic narratives present clinging to the status quo as Good and change as chaotic and dangerous. And like sure in real life people often do bad shit because they're wounded and in danger. But if you want to do a story like that, you have to do it with nuance, talk about cycles of violence, about how society creates vulnerable people to be exploited, about how privilege gives you more choices and the luxury of morals, etc. The Grishaverse does not have this level of nuance (maybe in SoC a little bit but definitely not in TGT). So it kind of comes off as "trauma makes you evil" and "egalitarianism is dangerous" and "if you're abused/oppressed you're not allowed to fight back". And ignores the fact that historically, evil generally comes from unchecked privilege.

I guess my point is that there are many things I like about LB's writing, she knows how to create these really exciting character dynamics, and the world she has created is fascinating. But these stories are not a great starting point for imparting moral lessons. And her best characters tend to be, at least in canon, the morally grey ones. I hope one day she'll be at peace with the fact that she wrote the Darkling the way she did and leave his fans alone but in the meantime I'm just not going to take this whole thing seriously I'm sorry

[kiwibirbs-library]

Show Me Off

a/n: lol but like he would I can’t be convinced otherwise also fun fact my heart was beating like crazy while doing this cause like... AHHH

Pairing: Torru Oikawa x fem!reader

Warning: lol it might be suggestive but like not really

Summary: when you and some of the team are out at a party and you ex walks in, you want to be sick. Your boyfriend however has a better idea.

The night was going amazing. It was one of the numerous high school parties that Oikawa takes you too. This time even better as the other third years got to join you both. There was colorful lighting, plenty of room for once, really good food, and great music. 10/10 in your book compared to all the others hes taken you too.

All five of you were taking in the kitchen, Iwaizumi, Makki, and Mattsu making fun of yours and Oikawa terrible dancing as he spun you around the island. You just laughed and continued, to happy to really care. He was giving you that look, the one that just screamed how much he admired you.

Hes been giving you that look since they all picked you up and he held the car door open for you cheekily. He bowed saying something along the lines of ‘your chariot princess’ while the others gagged.

You did look like a princess though. You were wearing a pair of comfy heels and a short dress that complemented everything about you, your hair curled and up. Rip Makki though, who had to sit in the back with you and Oikawa as he doted on you.

You laughed as Oikawa pulled you up from an over dramatic dip.

“If you two wanted to dance so much then stop ruining our vision and go out there!” Iwa semi yelled sarcastically, tilting his head to where a majority of the students were. You giggled as Oikawa put a hand on his heart and wrapped the other around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Iwa-Chan! I know your jealous of my amazing relationship but really?” the playful tone mixed with his hand being thrown on his forehead made you snort. Iwa had a vein in his head that looked like it would burst any moment too. You quickly kissed your boyfriends cheek and said you were going to the bathroom, giving a look at Makki and Mattsu that said they were their problem for now, and darting out before they could argue.

You searched down the hall for the bathroom, finally finding it and stepping up to the mirror. You gave you hair and dress and quick fix before exiting again. You happily walked down to get closer to the kitchen before stopping dead in your tracks.

What was he doing here?

In the middle of a big group of guys was your ex. He had been horrid, always tearing you down and belittling you when you dated, even a little afterward. It took so long to build your confidence back up after him. It had taken so long for you to finally be ok with yourself after him. And there he stood, laughing with those guys like it never even happened. You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little sick, and turned back to head to the bathroom again. You were almost there when your shoulder was caught.

Oh lord please no, please no.

“Hey babe, Iwa was being mean so I came to find you. You doing ok?” Oikawa’s voice was like an angles singing in that moment. You turned and hugged him, knocking some of the breath out of him. “Oh gosh I knew you would miss me but wow,” he laughed a bit, cupping your face. You smiled but he saw the barely there tear the had surfaced in your eye.

“Hey why were you crying?” He asked, flipping the worried switch up to 110. You forced a small laugh.

“Oh I wasn’t. Just something surprised me,” you waved him off. His eyes widened.

“Was it me?” He asked, tilting your head up to him. You giggled.

“No Torru, it wasn’t you,” you smiled and patted his chest.

“Ya now I know somethings up. I’m babe or hubby not Torru. So what’s wrong hmm?” He smiled at you, still clearly worried. You sighed and pointed straight behind him. He was right, he always could see right through you.

He turned to look at the large group of guys. His eyes widened when they drifted over him. “Oh gosh he’s here? Ew,” you snorted at his reaction. He turned back to you with a mildly disgusted look on his face. “Why did you date that slime ball again? I mean really I’m glad I was able raise your standards,” he smiled a bit at the end, happy he was able to make you laugh.

“Ya but now I don’t really know what to do. He’s in the way of the kitchen,” you sighed. You looked up to see a devilish smirk plastered on your idiotic boyfriends face. “Oh no, I’m not agreeing to this. Whatever it is it’s dumb I already know it,” you raised your eyebrows at him. He just laughed a little before hooking an arm around your waist and walking down the hallway.

“Torru Oikawa. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing?” You haistly whispered at him.

“Don’t worry we’re not gunna go back to the guys just yet,” he leaned down to you a little as he went to the large group of people opposite of the kitchen. If he ever cared to looked, you could easily be spotted by your ex. You gave him a questioning smile. “Aww come on babe. Don’t you trust me?” He smiled at you, walking a bit away before making a scene about asking for a dance. You laughed.

“Yes but not in the slightest right now,” you took his hand and he quickly pulled you in and spun you around. You both laughed as you danced, people taking notice and making a small circle for the couple that were show dancing. He spun you again to the music and did the same dip from the kitchen, this time following it up slightly lifting you up and spinning around after.

Honestly this was the power he had on you. This miraculous ability to make you forget about what’s around you and just live. It astonished you everytime, though you would never admit it to his face. His ego was already big enough.

As the song ended the kids around you clapped and he jokingly bowed, making the fangirl a go wild. You laughed as the circle disappeared and he pulled you to the edge of the crowd.

“Well what was that for?” You smiled.

“Well one to get this out of you,” he poked your cheek as he set his other hand to your hip and swayed you both the the beat. “And two, that was just the attention grabber,” he winked. Your eyes widened when you realized you were standing in full view of your ‘issue’ from earlier. Oikawa leaned down to you ear, kissing it slightly yes but more to give you a small look at his face.

He looked absolutely shook.

“You little shit,” you tried to sound serious, failing horrible may I add, as he straightened and looked down at you. He smiled and laughed. He knew he was. After all he was the king of petty and revenge.

“Aww yes I know. But to be fair it was either this or I texted the guys to come too and just beat him up,” he shrugged a bit. You rolled your eyes.

“Mad dogs not here babe, no ones getting beaten up but you.” He paused, looking slightly offended before brightening.

“Yay! I’m babe again! Turro is dead!” You let out a loud laughed, quickly trying to cover your mouth as some people gave you both a look. He just smiled and tilted your head up to kiss you. Another reason not to tell him what he could do to you, he already knew well enough.

“Ok I think we’re good now! Let’s go back to the guys and mess around in there! As much as I love to socialize I have a feeling we might be swarmed but fangirls if we stay to long,” he smiled at you. You tip toed up and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you. It feels nice to make him know I’m happier and better off now.”

“Show me off anytime my’lady. I’ll be your arm candy anytime,” he laughed, taking your hand as you both came up to the entrance of the kitchen.

Of course that was when you hand to pass mr. Issue’s little group however. He still had the same f-boy attitude that you remembered when he called out to you, seemingly shrugging of the shocked face he wore moments ago.

“Hey darlin. How you been?” He asked. Your smile dropped when you looked at him. You looked him up and down, making a chill run down his spine. “Should I take you away from this pretty boy and show you a good time?” The way he said pretty boy made Oikawas jaw tic slightly. You however squeezed his hand as your gaze further darkened.

Oikawa will forever remember what you said next, and by far will always bring it up to you for the rest of your lives.

Keeping your slightly disguised face on you looked at him straight in the eyes and said “do I know you?” His mouth hung agap at you as you both held the gaze for a second. You shrugged and rolled your eyes, looping you arm with Oikawas before walking past the boys and into the kitchen.

As you walked in Makki was clapping while Mattsu was on his hands and knees laughing.

“I HAVE OFFICALLY HAD MY NIGHT MADE!” Makki cried as you smiled and rolled your eyes. Iwa looked as if he was tried and failing to hold in his laughter. You flipped your hair with a fake smug face on.

“That’s right. I’m amazing!” You laughed as Mattsu struggled to stand and breath to give you a high five.

“Thank you for that memory. That will be the story I tell our children when they ask what their mother was like as a teen,” he said dramatically, once again putting on a show as he kneeled and kissed your hand.

“Oh my god Torru. NO!”

“HEY! NO! TORRU IS DEAD!”

[halo-jpeg]

Bro gimmie some Sinclair brother angst

Y e s. I had an idea, so here it is; Getting in a fight with your slasher s/o. Time to cry.

Fighting with your Slasher S/O Headcanons

Michael Myers

Fights with him are brutal. You’ll end up emotionally and sometimes even physically hurt. He has a horrible temper, and doesn’t like to be provoked, so if you provoke him you’re screwed.

He’ll lock his hand around your throat before the fight can escalate too far; simply to get to the punch, to put you in your place and not waste time.

He’s cold-hearted when he’s angry, and he’s terrifying. This is one of the few times he’ll willingly get close to you, and that’s simply to intimidate you.

If you get him to talk, or god-forbid yell at you, you’ve done something horribly, horribly wrong.

Afterwards, he’ll ghost you for days, sometimes even weeks depending on the severity of the fight. You won’t see a glimpse of him until he wants you to. You won’t hear a word, either, but you’ll know he’s there, hating you, because you can feel his eyes on your back and the threatening aura he eminates.

He’s allowed to get mad at you, but you’re not allowed to get mad at him.

Jason Voorhees

He does not want to fight you. Never ever, but if he ever lost his temper- let’s say you were pushing his boundaries, or maybe you let a trespasser escape- he’ll lose his temper.

He won’t yell or hurt you, but you can tell he’s fuming because he’ll run away and hide in the forest. If you were to follow him, you would see him shaking with rage and slashing at whatever resembled a human corpse. Anything to expel his anger.

After his initial rage dies down, he’ll cry. Again, not in front of you, never in front of you. Maybe he’ll go to the lake, the cabins, etc. But he’ll sit and sob silently into his hands for ever getting angry at you. You didn’t deserve that.

He’ll be so, so scared to go back home to you. He’ll fear that upon his arrival... you’ll be gone. That maybe his anger scared you off once and for all. If he were to ever walk in and find you crying, or scared, he’d hug you almost immediately and he wouldn’t let go for a long time.

After your fight, he won’t know whether to stick to your side like glue, or to give you space. You’ll have to be the one to initiate any physical contact, at least until the tension from the fight disappears.

Bubba Sawyer

He wouldn’t ever get mad at you, so if you were to start yelling at him he’d simply take every word like a slash from a blade. It would hurt him, but he wouldn’t even think to retaliate.

Of course you’d feel bad, any human would; especially when you see him start to cry.

He’d be scared of you. He’d flinch whenever you came too close, because with yelling always came hitting. Thats what he knew from his brothers.

It would take a long time to calm him down again, a long time to stop his shaking and whining.

When you finally do, youd better give him cuddles. So, so many cuddles.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas would have a very difficult time controlling himself if you were to fight. With his family he was taught not to be pushed around, so it takes a lot for him not to hurt you.

Don’t get me wrong; he doesn’t want to hurt you, but it’s normal to him, he doesn’t know any better.

After the initial heat of the fight he’d go somewhere to be alone, brooding in silence.

The only way to calm him down again is to go sit with him, not saying a word. Simply placing your hand on his and waiting.

Billy Lenz

Billy doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions. If he were to get angry, he would be dangerous, to say the least.

When he’s mad, he gets twitchy, unstable. He has a hard time forming coherent sentences and will randomly break out into tears for only a minute or toe before he’s yelling again.

It takes a lot to calm him down. The best thing to do would be to stay silent and wait him out. His voice is so loud he wouldn’t even hear anything you would try to say.

After the fight he’d feel horrible. He’d cry, and beg for your forgiveness. If you don’t hug him, he’ll be even more sad, and afraid, too. Afraid you’re disappointed, afraid that you won’t want anything more to do with him.

Brahms Heelshire

For Brahms it really depends on the day. Sometimes he’ll take no shit from anyone, and he’ll snap back violently, but others he’ll stand silent, waiting for you to finish yelling.

On his feisty days, he’ll argue for hours. He’s a petty dude, so he’s always trying to get the last word in. Sometimes he can grow violent, too. He’d never mean to hurt you, and he’d try to channel his anger into other things.

He’s never been taught to deal with his rage or emotions, so he’s a loose canon. He throws things a lot, like plates or vases.

On his calmer days he’ll take every word you have to say, waiting for you to vent out your anger.

Then, he’d cry. He’d lock himself in the walls and he’d hide from you, sobbing until there wasn’t a trace of anger left in you.

When he comes back out it will take a while to earn his trust again. He’d be afraid of you. Ironic, huh?

Billy & Stu

If you were to yell at Billy, he’d try to shut you up with a kiss. It usually calmed you down, but if you were mad enough and yelled anyway, he’d react differently.

If you still yelled then he’d yell right back. He gets hostile very easily, but he’d never ever hurt you. Maybe he’d break something, but he’d never hurt you.

If you yelled at Stu he’d just stand there, waiting for you to finish before apologizing, even if he didn’t really do anything.

He’d stay 100% calm, even if your yelling made him a little heartbroken. He’d either give you space to let you cool off, or force you into hugging him until you calmed down.

Leslie Vernon

He doesn’t like being yelled at. He doesn’t like yelling, either. He prefers jokes or calm talking, not yelling. Never yelling.

To end the fight, he’ll cut right to the chase and try to brush the problem off or solve it as quickly as possible. If you were to insult him or bring up a sore topic, though... then you’re in trouble.

He doesn’t like to be reminded of his past, insulted, or called out for his mistakes, so when you do any of those he’ll look over you or slam you against a wall to get ont our face and intimidate you.

“That’s enough, (Y/N).” His voice will be stern and threatening enough to shut you right up. It wouldn’t be smart to bring up the topic later.

He wouldn’t outright apologize, he doesn’t want to bring the topic up again, but you can tell he’s sorry for scaring you because of how he’s walking on eggshells.

Vincent Sinclair

He’s used to being yelled at, so he won’t do a single thing. He’ll take the verbal abuse without batting an eye.

He’ll do his best to fix his act, afraid of the consequences if he doesn’t. The only problem with yelling at him is that now he’s associated you with Bo, and in turn, with fear.

He’ll see you as just another person who controls him. He’ll be scared to upset you so he won’t be... himself around you, he’ll be perfect Vincent who makes no mistakes and never complains about anything.

The only way to snap him out of his scared, compliant stupor would be to apologize, and even then, it’ll take him a while to go back to normal and let his guard down around you again.

Bo Sinclair

He will not take any crap. You don’t ever yell at him. A simple glare from Bo is usually enough to scare you out of talking badly.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be called out- he really does want to hear your problems and such, but not if you raise your voice to tell him.

If you do grow the balls to yell at him, he’ll make you pay. Whether that be through his hand on your throat and rage in his eyes, or the cold shoulder for a whole week, you won’t yell at him again for a while.

Lester Sinclair

Poor Les is terrified of being yelled at. He’s always been invisible to his family, they’ve never yelled at him but he’s seen them yell at each other and it terrifies him.

He’ll go silent, he’ll keep himself together until he’s alone, and then he’ll sob his eyes out for hours. He won’t avoid you afterwards, but he’ll be so scared to mess up.

He’ll do whatever he can to keep you happy. It’ll take a few days for him to stop being so hurt.

Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson

If you yell at him he’ll cross his arms, waiting impatiently for you to finish. When you finally do, he’ll hit you with a sassy “are you done?” And an unimpressed quirked eyebrow.

As childish as that response is, it usually convinces you to storm off with a scoff to go cool off before coming back.

He doesn’t get hurt by your yelling, and he never yells back. He understands that people get angry, that’s okay.

He’ll brush off the fight and act normal the quickest out of any of the other slashers.

Norman Bates

Infinite apologies. He isn’t always sure what he’s done wrong but he won’t ever do it again.

If the yelling escalates, he’ll try not to cry. If it escalates further, he will cry. If it still escalates, he’ll snap.

Depending on the day, snapping either means storming off without a word, or shouting back with full force and setting rage.

After any form of his snapping he’ll feel horrible. You know he feels bad, because he can’t look you in the eye without them tearing up again. You don’t deserve to be yelled at.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Side Effects ch.2 (baon)

Summary: An unusual chapter without our boys, but instead for Blue and Papyrus. Could be that Blue has some issues, maybe, possibly. (He absolutely does)

Tags:  Background Spicyhoney, Background Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, PTSD, Discussions of Therapy

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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The midtown traffic was slow, caught in the hours between the morning rush and lunchtime. Blue preferred it that way, carefully guiding his little car along the road. Of course he was a perfectly capable driver, but honestly, the way some people on the road acted when a person dared to drive the speed limit was shameful.

On the seat next to him was a colorfully wrapped box, tied with a neat, curly-tailed bow. Blue wasn’t entirely sure about the gift yet, but a few of the young aides at the Embassy assured him that a handheld gaming system would be an excellent gift for someone who couldn’t get up and around like they were used to. He hoped so; it was as much of an apology as it was a gift, and Blue would hate to do poorly with either.

Normally when he drove through Ebott, Blue had the GPS up on his phone, the sedate voice guiding him along. Today, he hadn’t bothered. He was unfortunately very familiar with the route to Ebott hospital.

Back in Underswap whenever Pappy was ill, Blue took care of him on his own, fretting and caring for him and he never took his brother’s occasional snappishness personally. It wasn’t his fault, he was sick, and that tended to make him grumpy, was all. Here in Ebott, there were doctors to back him up who would urge Pappy to stay in bed when he was ill and be taken care of, to eat nutritious meals that were brought to him, and to quit smoking, rather than stubbornly trying to do things his own way.

His HP was delicate, he needed someone to take care of him.

Or so Blue had always thought.

Not all that long ago, it frustrated him beyond words to see Edge simply allowing Pappy to do as he wished, though Blue never said as much, oh, no. Pappy was an adult and he was married. Blue needed to allow them to make their own way, even if that way was terribly wrong and his Pappy was going to end up ill or worse.

He wondered now at his own pettiness back then, cringing at his occasional, secretive daydreams where Edge would call him frantically about his brother being sick or hurt, and Blue would come in, blazing with healing magic to save him.

After getting to live that particular daydream, Blue could firmly say that the reality of it was a great deal less satisfying than he’d hoped.

Even after that, he’d still believed Edge was wrong with the way he handled his brother. But he’d stood back, trying not to cling as his brother drifted further away from him, greedily snatching up any chance that came his way to offer some expertise whenever Pappy was sick and hurt because he knew, he knew that eventually, they’d come to their senses and take his advice, hopefully before it was too late. Every illness or injury made that sick throb of dread start up in Blue’s chest again, that perhaps this was it, this was the time that--it was too horrible to think of and Blue firmly set the thought aside.

All he could do was keep trying to coax Pappy and Edge around to his way of thinking. Blue believed that...right up until his conversation with Embassy counselor, Tiffanye.

It was supposed to have been a simple mental health assessment. Everyone involved with the recent unfortunateness was required to do it and Blue certainly didn’t mind. He liked talking to people and if a quick chat would reassure Asgore that he was up to returning to work, well, Blue wasn’t about to argue about it like some people.

The reality of it wasn’t quite what he’d expected.

Tiffanye listened, certainly, and asked questions, but they weren’t questions that Blue was expecting. Somehow, she’d taken a simple conversation about the events in California and latched on to an idle comment about him being glad that Edge didn’t allow his brother to come along.

How it was she’d picked that word ‘allow’ apart so…intensely, Blue still wasn’t sure, but she had, and suddenly Blue found himself backtracking, trying to explain he didn’t mean it like that, until their hour was up. He supposed they’d talk about it again at his next session, the one she’d scheduled without asking. He very nearly declined, his mouth already open to assure her that he wasn’t the one who needed therapy, except--

Except. One of the things she’d asked in that calm, easy way of hers was why he was so sure he knew the proper way to handle Pappy, and he’d discovered that he couldn’t answer. Pappy was his brother, yes, but could he say now that he knew Pappy better than anyone? Their day to day lives changed so completely when they’d arrived here, and then even more when Pappy moved out. Blue so desperately wanted to say that yes, he knew best, he did and...he couldn’t.

He wondered somewhat sourly what other perceptions Tiffanye was going to pick apart. Somehow, solving puzzles was less fun when he was the puzzle in question.

But yes, he knew the way Ebott General all too well, knew the best place to park, and the path through the hallways to take when he visited Pappy. Today, though, he wasn’t visiting his brother. Today Pappy was doing just fine, he hoped, at home doing a little caretaking of his own and trying to keep what Blue suspected was likely a very surly Edge off his foot to allow for it to heal.

(and oh, the look on Pappy’s face at the airport, that desperate pain when he saw Blue, the way it deepened when they brought Edge down, he never wanted to see that again, never, not for anything in the world, and the smug confidence that carried him home, knowing that Edge was right to leave him behind broke apart as Blue flung himself into his brother’s waiting arms)

No, today he was visiting Papyrus, who was still there despite all the care and rest he was getting.

Blue’s memories of it all were honestly a bit of a jumbled mess. He had a vague recollection of painfully crawling along the pavement afterward, the sound of the explosion still ringing in his skull, the distant screaming, the heat of it coming through even the shield that Papyrus threw out.

He...didn’t like thinking about that.

The only memory that was very clear was of Papyrus pushing both him and Sans to the ground, his lanky body on top of them, and his shield holding, right up to the point where it didn’t. That was when Papyrus had been thrown away from them and Blue very much wished that the sound of his skull impacting with the pavement was one that he had the option to forget.

The nurse in the ward gave Blue a slight smile and waved him on. Blue walked down the hallway to the room number he’d known for the two weeks belonged to Papyrus and never went to, taking a deep breath and knocking on the door.

“Come in!” It was loud even through the closed door; not even an injury could stifle Papyrus’s enthusiasm.

When Blue stepped inside, he found Papyrus sitting up in the bed and his delight at seeing Blue was warming. “Good morning, salutations, and welcome!”

“Good morning,” Blue said with a smile. There was an underlying desperation in that greeting. Poor Papyrus was probably at his wit’s end after so many days lying in bed. It made the guilt already sitting heavily in Blue’s chest give his soul an extra little kick. “I’m so sorry, I wish I’d been here to see you sooner, but--”

“Stuff and nonsense,” Papyrus scoffed. “You’ve been very busy!” He had, but they all had, the entire Embassy. It was hardly an excuse. Already his eye lights were straying to the hairline crack still visible in Papyrus’s skull and he forcibly pulled them away, refocusing.

It was just difficult to see, was all. Papyrus looked a great deal like his brother, the only real difference was Papyrus’s lack of eye lights, and with him sitting here in a hospital bed wearing ridiculous pajamas with pictures of hot dogs and mustard scattered over them, the resemblance was almost eerie.

But that was ridiculous. All Papyrus had to do was open his mouth and the illusion was broken. Blue pushed that silliness aside and held out the box, saying brightly, “I brought you a present!”

“I should say you didn’t need to, but it would be a lie because I love presents!” Papyrus took the box happily, giving it a gentle shake. “Though I’m not sure why because we don’t have birthdays and you already sent me some puzzle books last week.”

“I wanted to--” thank you, was what Blue meant to say. He owed Papyrus his life, no bones about it. But Papyrus interrupted before he could, settling the unopened box in his lap.

“Thank you very much for the present, I’ll open it in a moment. First, I’d like to ask you a favor and hope that it isn’t rude because I wasn’t expecting a present and now it seems like I want two,” Papyrus announced, and Blue smiled, a little helplessly.

“A favor isn’t a present,” Blue pointed out, “because you can’t give it for Gyftmas. I’d be happy to give one, if you tell me what it is.”

“Wonderful! You see, the doctors tell me that they will be letting me go home soon. Luckily, I have a hard skull,” Papyrus mimed knocking on it and Blue struggled not to flinch. “Only they have reasonable expectations that I am not to live on my own yet because sometimes when I stand up, I also fall down.”

“You what…?”

“So they want me to have a caretaker,” Papyrus went on, relentlessly. “My brother is not much for care or taking, either one or both, and he is going to be staying with Red for a while.”

“Red and Sans are taking up housekeeping together?” That was a juicy bit of gossip. Surprising except really not, if anyone paid a hair of attention, or rather, stayed in a room next to them when they were traveling, honestly, they could learn to keep it down.

Papyrus laughed heartily. “No, no, no, there will not be any housekeeping and I’m sure Edge and I will be forced to go shovel their trash collection away at least twice a year to keep it from overtaking the town. No, Sans said they are living together so they can do their sex things there and not in poor, unsuspecting brother’s hospital rooms.” A lack of eye lights did not in any way hinder Papyrus from turning on the puppy dog eyes. “But! I thought perhaps you would be willing to help?”

Oh. “You want me to stay with you?”

Papyrus beamed as if he’d solved a very complex puzzle. “Yes! At least for a little while and mostly at night. You were a very good caretaker, I told them, when AndyJeff stayed with you.”

“I…” I am a very good caretaker. He was. He knew best, he had to know best. He had to.

The little door at the back of his mind where he stuffed things he didn’t want to think about was shaking, the lock weakened by Tiffanye’s questions earlier that week.

He was a good caretaker, he knew best, he had to, and...and if Pappy had come along to California, he might have...he would have…

He would have tried to shield Blue the same way Papyrus had, only without the generous HP to back it. Papyrus, who looked so much like his brother, more than Edge ever could, who went by Pappy’s name and wore Pappy’s face. His Pappy, always the big brother. Even at his worst moments, he never really forgot it. Pappy who only listened to Blue’s scolding at his own whims and he was excellent at sensing Intent, better than Sans, much better than Edge, and he would have known, would have tried to shield them, and he would have…

Blue didn’t notice the warm wetness trickling from his sockets, didn’t know how long he stood there before Papyrus said his name, his exuberance softened with concern, “Blue?”

Not Sans, not anymore, no one called him Sans, not even Pappy. Papyrus wasn’t his brother and Blue pushed past those reaching hands anyway, crushing the gift box between them to bury his face against the soft pajama shirt Papyrus was wearing. His tears soaked through it immediately. A gentle hand settled on the back of his skull, holding him in and maybe Papyrus wasn’t his brother, didn’t sound like him at all as he crooned soft, nonsense words of comfort, didn’t smell like the honey-sweetness he knew so very well.

But he was here and he was kind, and Papyrus let him cry until Blue felt sick with it, his face sticky with used magic. Blue drew away with a hiccuping breath, searching through his pockets for a handkerchief.

Papyrus handed him a tissue before he could, let him mop up his face before he asked, “Are you all right?”

Blue nodded, not quite trusting his voice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Papyrus plucked at the wilted ribbon on the crumpled box still in his lap.

“You didn’t,” Blue managed. His voice was thin and hoarse, but it was there. “I think I was already upset.” He lifted his chin determinedly. “But if you want me to help you, I will.”

Papyrus brightened. “You’ll come stay with me, then? Maybe we can take care of each other.” So very sincere and Blue nodded again.

Yes, that seemed like the right decision. These days Jeff stayed over at Antwan's more often than not, anyway. They could help take care of each other.

But he might mention it to Tiffanye. Just in case.

“Let me know when they’re releasing you and I can bring you home,” Blue told him. Somehow, Papyrus’s smile made it easier to find his own. “Now, open your present.”

-fin-

[silverquillsideas]

My thoughts on the ending of banana fish

Banana Fish ended on the 20th, and then onward, a lot of posts have been made regarding the ending and what people thought about it. I’ve seen mostly negative posts, where fans were openly hostile to the ending and I get where they are coming from. There was the occasional positive response, and I understand their views too.

My stand on BF and whether the ending was justified falls on the grey area. I tend to oscillate between hating the ending, and liking it for being a powerful, emotional, and haunting experience. Why can’t I decide? Because I’ve got questions I just can’t justify in my head. I can’t come to a reasonable conclusion because of the loose ends that I feel were left in the manga by the author.

This is not meant to be an emotional rant, please bear in mind. I finished the manga back in July, and I’ve had months to ponder over these questions, and reached no conclusion.

Hence, I’ll just place the specific issues I personally had, and hope that, I’ll eventually figure out why it was created the way it was.

I’ll divide this post in 3 parts :

1. The events leading up to Ash’s death

2. Ash’s choice to die

3. The role that other characters played, and why the author chose to ignore their “fates” if you will, and only deemed it necessary for ash to meet his end in that way

I’d like to thank @angofwords, @lynxash @yoru-no-gaspard @ash-callenreese @saishii , with whom I discussed this over months, and finally @shu-kaku, who practically kicked me in the butt to get me to write this post, because I wouldn’t shut up about the  arguments :’D 

Also, to @zaenaris and @soso1777, my replies have been abysmally late, but here is what I had planned to say in response to you both.

A. THE EVENTS LEADING UP TO ASH’S DEATH

The battle at Mannerheim’s institution finished with Dino, Foxx and Mannerheim dying. Blanca, Sing, Ash, Cain, and all the gang members return safely, with few casualties on their side.

Afterwards, there were clearly two days before the manga ended : Day 1 , where Sing confronted Yut Lung, and Ash and Blanca talked in the park.

Day 2 : where Eiji leaves for Japan, Sing gives Ash the letter, Ash gets stabbed, the story comes to an end.

My question is regarding the behaviors of the characters in these two days, or rather, how Yoshida-sensei chose to write them.

Firstly, Sing Soo Ling, the very competent gang leader, who knew that his brother, hell bent on hating Ash for being a “monster who killed Shorter” and apparently on the mission to “harm Sing” , was missing, never once thought of tracking him down? Provided he had two days at hand? Sing had cleared his animosity with both Ash and Yut Lung, and I’m pretty sure, as a gang leader, he had conveyed both these details to his underlings. Therefore, it’s unlikely, that Lao, could NOT have heard it from at least one person in the gang (even if he was not a part of it anymore, I’m sure he had people close to him), if not from Sing directly. Lao was the only family member Sing had in the Chinese gang, so it seems a very far stretch that he would not have made any effort to get him back in the ring.

Ignoring the above question, assuming Sing was very busy, or the question escaped his mind, my second problem, Lao Yen Tai.

He was under the impression that Ash was a deadly enemy to Sing. His goal : kill Ash anyhow, even if he died in the process, so that Sing could be saved.

So, on that day, he followed Ash around (there is no other way he could have known Ash was at the library)

This is him spying on Ash and Sing talking in the reading room : 

Ash and Sing then went outside, and argued loudly for sometime. Lao, of course, followed them, and saw Sing and Ash yelling at each other. Sing ran away, very much unharmed, and alive, after yelling at Ash Lynx’s face. Lao saw the whole thing.

So, my question is, Lao DID NOT come out of nowhere, he was observing the whole exchange. If Ash Lynx was bent on killing Sing, or fighting him one on one, he had plenty of room to do so, but he didn’t. so, why didn’t Lao, go after his brother, and try to clarify the situation before going at Ash on a suicide mission? The excuse that he was “scared and confused and wanted to protect Sing” breaks down here. Logically speaking, Lao should have followed Sing, instead of going at Ash with a dagger. But Yoshida mysteriously chose to overlook this.

Third question : the blatant disregard for reality, in the following situations :

1 A gunshot going off, no one comes to investigate

2 Ash drips blood all over the staircase and goes back to the reading room 

No one notices

3 A human being bleeds out, sitting in a chair, in what I’m assuming is the Rose Reading room of the NYPL, which is very much NOT CARPETED and no one notices the blood (~3 to 4 L of bleeding is needed for an average human to collapse and die) in fact, in the screenshot I see, there is NO BLOOD, running out on the floor, not even a single splotch. 

Very interesting choice on both the author’s and animators’ parts

4 Also, since the anime time-line is the present day, I’m assuming there will be stuff like surveillance cameras present, so, my question is, what were the security people doing?

The readers are expected to keep the sense of reality suspended for all of the above points.

B ASH’S CHOICE TO DIE

First off, I’m a staunch believer, that Ash wasn’t suicidal, and that he didn’t actively go out and seek situations that would put him at risk of dying. I don’t know how the fandom views him as, but to me, Ash is an extremely resilient human being, and he wouldn’t give up his life just like that unless something major was at stake.

Ash says in ep 13, at the pier, that “there were times I felt that death would be a better option than what I was going through at those moments”

This is not the statement of someone who was trying to give up his life willingly, but only considering that choice under extreme situations. Ash had gone through a lot, more than any one of us, and especially me, who has had zero experience of depression or CSA or trauma of that nature, can fathom. And of course, there were times he felt that death would end his suffering, but also, he had a strong desire for survival and freedom from all that he was going through, and the goal to get revenge on those who had wronged him. 

In Angel Eyes, he says this to Shorter, and I think that’s proof enough of how Ash was ready to bend his horrible destiny to his favour and survive whatever he was going through. 

With all of that out of the way, I’ll point out the reasons which (according to me), served as his reasons to choose to die:

Why Ash did not seek medical help/call out to someone : Ash’s legal status was still that of a criminal, a gang leader, and whatever might have been his reasons for committing those crimes (ie -for survival), the law wouldn’t see him as anything but that.

The reason Blanca prevents him form going after Eiji to the hospital after he is shot, is precisely this :

There would be too many questions about who he was, what he did, etc, and invariably, the police would’ve been called on him by the hospital staff, since he was technically being treated for a potential homicidal would (a stab to the abdomen). Ash would’ve been questioned by the staff, asked for records, etc. If the police got involved, he’d have been taken into custody after being recognised. Even if Jenkins and Charlie stood up for him, and his status as a victim in the Club Cod trials was taken into account, Ash would not have been able to escape some sort of legal penalty, imprisonment or otherwise.

On further questioning, the names of his accomplices, ie, Eiji, Blanca, Max, even Sing, would come into the light. That was a mess I’m sure Ash wanted to avoid.

Any sort of contact with legal or law enforcement was a big no no in Ash’s current situation, and remember that the police were already looking for Ash at that time, and how Eiji refused to give them his location.

Let’s assume that Ash goes to the hospital / is taken there by people who saw him bleeding out, and he is eventually tried for his crimes. His case is widely publicised, since he is the biggest witness/victim in the Club Cod case. The Corsican foundation was still active, and Ash Lynx was still a successor of Dino Golzine, who had previously bought legal custody of Ash from the state of New York, which means, Ash’s identity as A J Callenreese, was no longer valid. The Corsican hotshots would still come after him, one day or the other, in order to go after Dino Golzine’s empire.

I’m excluding petty gang violence from being a threat to Ash, since at this point, all the major street gangs of NYC were Ash’s allies.

The Govt officials being tried by the court were also potential enemies. Club cod trials would mean more exposure of the politicians, more risk of Ash being the target of thugs or assassins in revenge (like it happened before with Kippard, where he sent the female assassin after Ash in the hospital)

Considering all of this, it’s obvious to me why he didn’t want to drag his life on, especially after the stabbing was done.

A more poetic explanation would be : to keep Eiji safe. It’s needless to elaborate. Ash had already made up his mind that he would remove himself from Eiji’’s life altogether, since he couldn’t risk putting Eiji in the position where they would have to look behind their backs all their lives, or be on the run, or worse still, his enemies tracking back to his friends, including, Eiji, Max, Sing, (or even Blanca), to hold them as leverage to get back at Ash. 

Yes, I do agree that his decision was majorly influenced by this wish to keep Eiji safe, forever, by choosing to get himself out of the picture, but only because he was put into the place of choosing in the first place by the author. 

I don’t agree with stuff like destiny, or fate, or paying for your actions because of a mysterious force in the universe decided so, because all of those are apt for ballads and fairy-tales, not real life. The above were reasons I could come up under realistic settings. In an ideal black and white worlds, all crimes are punished and all wrong doings are judged fairly, but not in the world we live in , and certainly not in Banana Fish’s world, where the “good guys” paradoxically suffer much more than the “bad guys”.

I’ll also don’t agree with Yoshida on Ash having to “pay for his crimes, as he had blood on his hands, so he had to die” mindset that she allegedly had. If that logic is applied, then I don’t see why she applied it selectively to Ash and not to Banca, Yut Lung, or Sing or any other person involved in gang life.

Instead of that, I’ll see Ash’s death as his choice, and his alone, not because he had to pay, but because he had decided to let go of all this continuous tug of war with his life and end it on his own terms. I don’t think Ash would’ve liked to suffer alone, all his life, in imprisonment by the state (if he was caught), or being held captive by another Golzine/Foxx wannabe.

I respect and agree with his choice, even if it’s not possible for us to ever know for sure why he did it.

C. THE ROLE OF OTHER CHARACTERS

The best possible outcome for Ash’s story, as I see it, would be taking up Blanca on the offer, or at least, if not go to Caribbean, then let Blanca provide him means to remain in NYC in a safer way.

Blanca is an anomaly in Yoshida’s world. He’s the only person who mysteriously remains alive, despite being an assassin, and committing perhaps even more crimes than Ash. He not only escapes his work related enemies, but the entire USSR (during 1980s) and manages to remain under an alias/ second identity. He escaped from the Kremlin, and its ruthless organization, the KGB 

If living such a double life is possible in Yoshida’s world, then why did the author not find a similar way out for Ash? It looks a feasible option to me at least.

Second comes Yut Lung. His situation is made prey clear in the manga. The whole fiasco with Banana Fish was cleared up, the Lees died, Yut Lung got his revenge, and struck up a potential friendship / truce with Sing. It’s made clear that he repented his decisions to go after Eiji, or to get Ash to acknowledge his worth as a rival, by whatever means he could. 

He let down Sing and Blanca by how he acted, who were the only two positive influences in Yut Lung’s life at that point. He would not have gone after either Ash or Eiji afterwards. So his status as Ash’s enemy was nullified.

The options open to Ash at that point (if the very stupid Lao fiasco did not happen) :

1. Live his life as a gang leader, and always stay on the lookout for his life from his enemies

2. Remove himself slowly from the violent life and maybe assume a different identity like Blanca did to escape all of that for good.

But under no circumstances can I see Ash and Eiji reuniting immediately after the canon events. Anonymous communication, or though friends like Max or Ibe-san, that I can picture, but not ash risking Eiji’s safety by meeting him. Not until years have passed, and Ash’s life became somewhat stabilised, if that were even possible.

It would have hurt, sure, but his unnecessary death could be avoided.

TL;DR : 

My point is, I wouldn’t have been confused by Ash’s death or even agreed with it, if only it had been written in a more natural fashion, in accordance with the rules Yoshida set for the ENTIRE manga. She wrote Ash to be a superhuman being, dodging bullets from automated weapons, surviving gunshot wounds that would be fatal on other people, and being able to completely override the effects of anesthetic drugs, in the final battle at Mannerheim’s (as a med student, that is one fact the I find ridiculous, only because its so unrealistic, and impractical) and lots of other fantastical characteristics.

So, his death at the end felt like the author had already decided on having a certain ending, and then lazily arranged the characters and scenarios to fit her choice.

That’s why, my stand on the ending will remain ambiguous, because I cannot accept all these logical fallacies and call the ending realistic or well thought out. Did it pack a punch and make me cry? Yes. Was it haunting and emotional? Yes. But was it a justified or logical ending? No.

The decisions on Ash’s part were consistent with his overall characterisation, but not the circumstances which lead him to make that choice. The arguments that “Ash’s past will definitely catch up to him one day, so death was the best option” is pretty ambiguous. Even if it did, choosing Lao to stab Ash as an example of it, was poorly thought out in my opinion.

The points I wrote above are subject to faults, of course. This is just one way to look at it. Feel free to counter my points, I’m not a US citizen, and I don’t know how politics, law or gang life works there, hence, my reasoning is based off common sense and parallels under similar situations. Maybe I am wrong in certain aspects too. I’d love to hear what you all think.  

[callboxkat]

Deceit’s Purpose

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Author’s note: This is one of those fics that just kind of wrote itself. I don’t know what this is, but it’s Angst.

Summary: After the events of Selfishness vs Selflessness, Deceit tries to figure out how to get through to the other sides and show them that he’s right. But maybe it’s too late.

Warnings: Does this count as sympathetic Deceit? I’m really not sure. Morally gray, maybe? He’s not a sweet angel or anything, but he’s not horrible. Also, because it’s from Deceit’s perspective, Patton and Virgil are kinda vilified a bit. Expect arguing, lying, talk of lying and the morality of it, a wedding, insults, kind of depression, and an UNHAPPY ENDING. Shocker, I know.

Word count: 1654

Writing Masterpost!

Deceit paced back and forth in his room, angrily flinging his hat and gloves at the bed and fisting his hands in his hair.

Why were the other sides so ridiculously stubborn? So completely unwilling to listen to him?

Sure, he was Deceit. Sure, he lied. A lot. Maybe. But that didn’t make him bad.

Deceit’s main function was, well, deceit. But that wasn’t always wrong, and it didn’t always simply entail him trying to get Thomas to lie with reckless abandon. He had more class than that. More finesse. More sense.

Deceit didn’t just try to make Thomas lie: he also worked to get Thomas to recognize his lies, to be aware of them—especially when he was lying to himself. Especially when he was hurting himself by pretending to be something or someone that he wasn’t. Deceit was trying to look out for Thomas! To protect him! The others had even admitted as much the first time that Deceit had revealed himself to their host. So why did the so-called “light sides” still treat him like some horrible, irredeemable piece of garbage?

Now, not only was Thomas not going to the callback, but he was going to the wedding instead. An event he was most certainly not looking forward to. Thomas’s role in it was limited to simply watching the ceremony and saying a brief “hello” to the newlyweds to prove he was there. All it was going to do was make Thomas miserable and satisfy Patton’s need for Thomas to be some kind of morally pure, selfless angel.

But Thomas wasn’t an angel. He was a human. As a human, shouldn’t he get to be selfish sometimes? Especially when it came to once-in-a-lifetime opportunities like this?

Recently, Deceit had been trying to change things, to make them all more aware that Thomas needed to do things for himself sometimes. But it was beginning to feel pointless. Maybe they would never listen, certainly not to a liar like him. Their perceptions were too clouded by what Deceit was.

All he’d wanted to do with the court room scenario was teach the others a lesson and try to convince them to let Thomas do what was best for him for once. Truthfulness was not always the only good option. Selfishness was not inherently inferior to selflessness. Being deceitful did not inherently mean being a bad person.

Deceit wanted to help Thomas; and since he knew the others were hell-bent against Deceit, especially a certain overgrown child and a certain angry purple raccoon, he’d been trying to do it while disguised as one of the “light sides”.

But acting was hard. Deceit was not the creative side, and Thomas simply was not a good liar—therefore, much of the time, neither was Deceit. Even worse, the others didn’t exactly hang out with him a lot, so it was hard to get an idea of how to properly mimic them. He still did his best, but clearly it wasn’t working.

So, how was Deceit meant to help his host, to do his job? To keep Thomas from becoming someone that others simply used, took for granted, and tossed aside? He wasn’t going to duck out—he wouldn’t do that to Thomas, and based on the others’ behavior so far, they probably wouldn’t miss him until the damage was unfixable.

Deceit continued to pace, wracking his imaginary brains for something, anything, he could do to fix this.

But perhaps the damage was done. Perhaps there was nothing Deceit could do to convince them that he was worth listening to. This seemed particularly true in the case of the callback. The others, even Roman, Thomas’s creative drive, were set on making Thomas go to the wedding. All because Deceit had happened to be the one to most seriously try to get him to go to the callback instead.

And now there would be no callback. No Alfred Hitchcoppolucas. No movie, no fame, no fortune, no more doors opened for Thomas. Just more of the same. Just more of the main four sides forcing Thomas to do what they wanted, what Morality wanted.

Heck, the deciding factor that made Deceit choose to pop up in the first place during the callback vs. wedding debate had been the fact that Patton had just kept talking over Thomas, telling him what he needed to do without even asking Thomas what he actually wanted to do.

…

As time went on and the day of the callback and wedding neared, Deceit continued to try to change the others’ minds. But, of course, it didn’t work. Virgil would just yell, or hiss, or simply roll his eyes and leave. Roman would be clearly conflicted, but ultimately deny him, his mind already made up. Patton would point fingers and lecture him on right and wrong, leaving no room for Deceit’s argument. Logan might have listened to him more, but he was still mad at being mostly left out during the courtroom scenario. That may have been a mistake on Deceit’s part, in hindsight, but it was also yet another thing that he could not change. And any time he tried to speak directly with Thomas, Thomas would either immediately banish him, or Virgil would pop up and make him do it.

So, when April 13th finally came, Thomas went to the wedding. He missed the callback. And just as Deceit had expected, as Thomas himself had expected, Thomas had a terrible time. They all did, really.

Virgil spent the whole day anxious about everything that could go wrong. Roman was miserable, both because of the missed callback and because of the loneliness that the wedding dredged up inside him. Logan claimed to be unaffected, but Deceit knew that he felt that the callback would have better served Thomas’s needs and wants in life, even if not going to the callback was akin to Thomas having never gotten the opportunity in the first place. Patton was all but drowning in nostalgia and other feelings. Deceit, meanwhile, spent the day having Thomas lie about the fact that there was somewhere else that he would very much rather have been than at that wedding. And Thomas himself felt all of that.

It was a long day, in short.

Afterwards, Deceit was sitting in the dark, theoretically watching The Phantom of the Opera on the television in the commons of the mind palace. The television was on silent, Deceit’s head resting on one gloved hand as he watched the screen with glazed eyes, his mind elsewhere entirely.

“Ugh,” a voice said, interrupting his thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hello, Virgil. You’re exactly who I was hoping to run into this evening,” Deceit said, rolling his eyes.

“Just get out already. You lost, okay? There’s no point hanging around and bothering everyone anymore! Just GET OUT!”

Deceit turned to look at him. “Oh, of course. The entire mind palace belongs to you and your pals, how could I have forgotten?”

“Dude, if this is some pathetic woe-is-me act to try to get us to sympathize with you, it’s not going to work.”

Deceit, deciding he didn’t have the energy for this tonight, just released a heavy sigh and turned his gaze back to the television.

Virgil snapped his fingers, and the screen went dark. Deceit made a point of snapping his own a half-second later, turning it back on. Virgil growled at him. That was unusual, Deceit noted. Usually when Virgil chose to mimic an animal noise, he favored hissing. Roman was more of a growler.

“Why. Are. You. Here,” Virgil demanded, snapping his fingers again. This time, Deceit didn’t turn the show back on. He knew it would just lead to an endless, frivolous fight of turning the television on and off again. The main sides were rather ridiculous, after all.

“Because you’re completely incorrect,” Deceit drawled. “There’s plenty of time to change things. Thomas can still go to the callback, and even barring that, he can get another opportunity like this one! They just grow on trees, after all.”

Virgil frowned at him.

“I was going to watch a movie,” Virgil said.

“Well, clearly, no one else is watching anything right now,” Deceit said.

Virgil, even though he surely knew what Deceit meant by that, shrugged and snapped his fingers. A different movie started playing, Phantom of the Opera gone.

“I wasn’t watching that!”

“I don’t care. Don’t you get it? We don’t want you here. I don’t want you here. Just go! Get out of here!”

“No!”

Virgil threw himself onto the couch and put his legs up on it, crowding Deceit into the corner—as petty of a tactic as all get out.

“Why not? You don’t even do anything good for Thomas. All you do is show up in cartoonishly awful costumes and jeopardize all of his friendships! How is that helping? All you do is lie.”

“That isn’t all I do,” Deceit said, his voice shaking from anger, but slow and deliberate.

“Ah, he admits it.”

“Yes! I mean—No, I don’t! I’m not just deceit!”

“It is literally your name. You are Deceit.”

“You aren’t just Anxiety, are you?”

“That’s different.”

“Is it? Is it so hard to believe that I might be useful for things other than deception? You may be Anxiety, but you are also Virgil, correct?” Deceit was practically vibrating with anger now. Why did the others refuse to understand? Why did his primary function have to make getting his point across so much more difficult?

“Deceit—.”

“My name isn’t Deceit! My name is ETHAN!”

Virgil stopped. He stared for a moment, eyes wide. For a second, Deceit thought that maybe, he’d actually gotten through to him. Maybe, he’d actually found a way to start to prove to Virgil that he wasn’t just a single function, incapable of being anything more, of being anything good.

But then Virgil’s gaze hardened.

“That’s just another lie.”

[lumiereswig]

what if. an amnesia fic. where they. ALL. Got. A m n e s I a

fuck. you

State dinners never put Cogsworth in a good mood. Oh, he liked them afterward, when everything was going smoothly, and he could smile and make polite compliments to the diplomats’ wives, and down congratulatory bits of brandy from the sideboard, and bask in the praise of a job well done, but the beforehand bits? With everyone fussing and carousing, and Lumiere flirting with somebody in the closet when he ought to be working, and Belle being grumpy because she had to dress in something beyond cottons and calicoes, and Adam informing him that he wanted it to be “a simple affair, really,” all the while secretly picturing champagnes and party favors—well, it was enough to put anybody off their carefully-calculated stride. And that was before the table linens got involved.

“How dare you call my napkins so, you ticking time bomb?!”

“And what do you think of calling THAT, you, you, you, you perturbed piece of paraffin?! I’ve seen better displays of kitchen linen in rubbish-bins!” Cogsworth throws the napkin down with all the spirit of a furious wombat. His cheeks bulge; his eyes start; somewhere, he is sure, a blood vessel bids its last adieu. And here stands Lumiere—all forty feet of him, in all his prodigiously lanky height, dressed to the nines and tens in golden satin, having the nerve to argue with him about table settings. Even if the man hadn’t been a candelabra earlier, Cogsworth would still assume his brains to be about as abundant as a drop of wax. “If you call this party planning, I call you an Englishman! I could have done this better myself if I were half mad!”

“Than you must have been dwelling in the asylum when you taught it to me, fifteen years ago,” Lumiere retorts. “Or have you forgotten that, too, as well as I am the master of napkin-folding?”

“You’re not the master of much, if this is your example of it. Master indeed! Master, look at what this besotted fellow calls a table arrangement, and see if you can call it much of anything.”

“Is everyone in a quarrel today?” cries Adam, rubbing his head. He has a headache brewing, but nobody seems to mind; Mrs Potts is in an awful fuss about the state of the tea-pantry, and Cuisinier is haranguing her about it, and he would go hide with Belle if she wasn’t currently arguing down the joined attacks of Madame de Garderobe and Plumette on her choice of evening wear.

He hates state dinners. He really, truly hates them. He wonders if his life would be easier if he were only a servant, with the only concern on his plate being, well, the plates.

“Do I look as though I know napkins?” he says in despair. “Work it out between yourselves, please. You’ve had enough quarrels to work through this one.”

“Don’t remind me how many times I have had to listen to this fool jabber on,” says Lumiere warningly. “I cannot bear a history with so much tension to it!”

“And I cannot bear a memory of you fawning and flouncing and forgetting how to fold a napkin because you’re chasing down a girl in a cupboard!”

“Cogsworth, be fair! The girl WAS the cupboard, at the time.”

“Don’t you go bringing up the curse at a time like this!” cries Cogsworth, wagging his finger.

“Don’t you go mentioning time, when I can tell you where that second hand pointed not too long ago! Up your forehead, wasn’t it? Or did it wind around and pat your own back for you, when the occasion warranted?”

“MY HANDS WERE MY MUSTACHE, AND YOU KNOW IT,” Cogsworth explodes, and Adam flees down the hall.

Everywhere, chaos. Maids angry at footmen for putting ladders where they shouldn’t; footmen furious with maids for putting buckets where they should have known they would step. Belle bursts from her room, ribbons all stuck in her hair, shouting at Plumette to “leave me alone, leave me alone, I don’t want to wear a gown and be a lady!”; Garderobe comes after, dressed in a new creation of hers, crying out that la princessa must submit to being royal if that was what was required. Adam sighs, and beats back his hair from his face, and sits on the only clean set of stairs in the palace with his head between his hands.

After a moment, he realizes someone is sitting next to him.

“You’re not running frantic,” he says.

“No, I’m not,” says the woman. “But I see that everyone else is.”

“State dinners are such a terrible affair,” groans Adam. “Everyone has to put on a mask, and restate their identity ten fold. Oh, I’m an Englishman! I’m a Frenchman! I’m a king, you’re a lady, you’re a gentleman, who outranks who, what is the history between nations; there’s such a fraud-filled game to play, where everyone has to be his most decided self—or how he decides to be seen—in front of everyone else.”

“And that doesn’t suit you, face-changing one?”

Adam is too exhausted to notice the shift in her voice. “When I was a monster, I was still me, and I was free to change. In front of that assembly, with all the history and petty feuds, I feel I must be one unchanging character, with my whole self hanging in the balance. I’m the Prince, and Belle’s the Princess, and we’re not allowed to be anything else.”

“Such a weight for you to bear,” says the woman, laying a consoling hand upon his knee. “To wear history on your sleeve for all to see! To feel so confined to one self—”

“Yes, yes,” says Adam, “and—what’s that you’re doing with your hand?”

Gold light pulses from the woman’s hand, rippling against his blue-silk leg in concentric rings like the surface of a pond disturbed by a dropped stone. He feels sunlight blinding him, and sees the green and blue of reflected river-plants beating against his eyes, and the sound of the water rushing in his ears.

“Be blind if you would like,” says the woman, her hand very hot against him. “Be free, if you would like.”

The sunshine grows too hot. The pond grows cold. Adam feels the beat of the stone dropping, dropping down—and drops down too, sunshine clouding both his eyes.

Chandeliers are the first thing that swan into their view. Then the dazzling ceiling, all painted cloud and sky; and then the brooms, abandoned, and the leaking mops, and the marble steps still soaked with soap-suds.

The room they’re in is sparklingly clean: as bright and airy as they feel.

They sit up. They feel their knees and bones. All right; that’s all right. They stand, and slip, and stand again. Water glitters on the floor. The reflection in the mirror—someone unknown, and dressed in blue silk, and still looking dazzled by the sun—feels the smooth expanse of the floor, as if looking for some particular stone sitting in a river that nobody can see.

It takes them a while to reckon they ought to be doing something.

“I’m sure I had something to do,” they murmur, but that’s been taken away, so they toddle off to see if somebody else has an idea.

They look in the mirror, and see the unfamiliar face again, and carry on.

More unfamiliar faces stare out of mirrors, and also windows, and sometimes doors. They find an unfamiliar face in one of the rooms, ribbon curling through her hair, looking in a mirror.

“Is it supposed to do that?” she asks.

“The ribbon? I suppose so.”

“No, the face. Why does the eyebrow quirk up like that? Who put a pinch between those brows?” She looks at him suddenly. “Do you know what you look like?”

“No, not really,” they admit.

“Now that’s strange. Because there are mirrors all over this place, and you’re in it.”

“I’m sure I knew once,” they protest. “But I lost my name on my way to finding a face, so I thought I should look for one before the other.”

“A sensible plan. Well, I can tell you part of it: that you’re good-looking; and a man; and that you have nice hair, and good teeth; and that you’re horribly under-dressed.”

“Me? Underdressed?” He points to his white shirt, his clean blue silk breeches, so clean they still have soap suds from the stair on them. “But you’re dressed in only a petticoat, and a white shift, with a ribbon falling out of your hair!”

“Ah, but I’m sure I’m meant to look that way,” she says. “Let’s stick together, us two. I think we should get along.”

They haven’t ventured far before they find other faces, though no other names. Everyone seems to have dropped one—but instead of dropping the usual ones, such as the names of famous persons, or mutual acquaintances, or other names that could afford to be lost, everyone had dropped their own and let it roll away across the floor.

“There must be a proper order to this,” insists one of them. Wombat, thinks another, and has nowhere to put the thought. “We should all line up and present, and that would make things easier.”

“Would it?” says a second, picking up a dropped napkin and gently rubbing the other’s buttons to a shine with it. “I don’t know about you, stranger, but I think we should all say at once who we might be, and drop right into it. C'est vrai, non?”

“Don’t speak German, it doesn’t help matters.” But the wombat pats his hand indulgently, and turns to survey the assembled crowd of faces. “I say we work from the known, and then work to the point this fine, finely-satined gentleman suggests. We know we are in a palace; therefore, someone must be King or Queen.”

“It must be me, then,” says one. “I am dressed fine, as regal as la princessa; my gown is twice your size, and my hair towers over this little man with the blue silk breeches!”

“Very well.” He nods; she nods; they nod. Progress has been made. The grand lady, her hands full with a confused-looking dog, bows graciously and takes a dining room table as her throne. The wombat nods. “And if there is a Queen, there must be servants, staff. Surely that is the rest of us.”

“I wish I could remember what I did,” cries the girl, her fingers lacing through the blue-silk boy’s.

“There are hints in your dress,” says another, white feathers drifting from her exquisite hair. “You have ribbons in your hand; you are dressed simply, like a maid. Perhaps you are the lady’s maid!”

“Then I must be the footman,” says the blue-silk boy, “because we belong together. And I have soap on my clothes—so I must have been cleaning the stairs.”

“And all this mess,” says the wombat—picking up a mess of napkins, and depositing them in his lanky companion’s hands to take care of (for he really looked the sort to understand such things)—"must be caused by a grand affair. A dinner, perhaps! A ceremony!“

“For the Diplomat from England,” reads the girl with the feathered wig, looking at the place setting. “For the Diplomat of France. For the Diplomat of Germany.”

“Why, that must be us!” cries the lanky one. “We have noticed already that I speak German—trés bien, I accept—and you speak French so well, my newest friend, you must be the diplomat from here.”

“I speak with a slight accent, true,” admits the wombat, “but I firmly believe I have always had a distinct liking for the French character, if I could only remember it. And that, my dear, leaves you to be the English ambassador.”

“How neatly we are seated together!” The Diplomat from the Emerald Isle offers her hand to Germany. “I’m sure we shall be great friends, in time.”

“In time!” The wombat starts. (He knows it isn’t truly French to be so tense, but sometimes he likes to break the expectation.) “That reminds me—though I don’t know why—this dinner of state likely begins soon, if the state of this table has anything to say about it. What a tremendous job you have done with those napkins, my Saxon friend.”

“Thank you! I don’t remember how, but I believe a dear friend of mine may have taught me how to do them. They look good, do they not? Servants, what do you think?”

“I don’t look as though I know napkins,” says the blue-silk footman, glancing uncertainly at his face in the mirror, “but I’m sure they’re fine, if you agree. Mistress Maid? Miss Ribbon? Beauty? Should we prepare ourselves in the kitchens?”

“I may have lost my name,” says the maid, the ribbon curling in her hair, “but at least I’ve picked up you. Let’s go, Vincente—or Charming—or Adam, or Eve, or whatever your name might be. At least I’ve got you straight.”

The dinner goes off without a hitch. Nobody from the palace remembers what they are supposed to do; if there is etiquette to these dinners, it must be guessed at. The lady in charge—the regal lady with the great gown—guesses at names, and alliances, and who should speak to whom; and the maid and the footman, unsure of due process, indulge each guest with the same broad smile and lack of notice for rank. The diplomats themselves are surprised to find new faces in the crowd; an enchanting emissary from England—a German native who speaks such good French he heals the wounds of offended Belgians, who had nearly quarreled their way with the previous diplomat into a war—a French chancellor whose fastidiousness wins over representatives long tired of the usual laissez-faire attitude of the French embassy. They talk, and skip over parts they can’t remember, and laugh and toast and sign treaties they can’t recall the advantages of; and the servants smile, and sip tea in the back—there is an awful lot of tea at this dinner, for the cook sends more and more, and the housekeeper (a man in black-checked pants, wearing a chef’s hat for a joke) can’t bear to turn her down—and they have a jolly good time, cleaning the plates and meeting each other and finding, in the other’s half-blank mind, things strikingly like their own.

The guests depart. The table rests, a mess, napkins on the floor, wine cups spilled sideways. Her highness picks up her pup and retires to the drawing room, to rest in her chair and toast her toes by the fire. The servants cuddle on the stairs, forgetting their beds, or where those beds ought to be, and falling asleep against the marble. The diplomats, lingering long over their wine, settle for sleep against crushed table linens.

As he breathes in the scent of the maid’s sweet, soap-stained hair on the palace steps, the boy thinks he hears water rushing in his ears.

He wakes, she wakes, they wake. Adam knows where he is. Belle takes a minute—”why are we on the back kitchen stairs?”—then remembers, and remembers, and gasps until her eyebrows pinch. There’s a loud crash from the dining room, and the frantic barking of Frou-Frou—the dog, the dog, of course Frou-Frou is the name of the dog—and Madame de Garderobe having a laugh in Adam’s best chair.

“Did it go horribly?!” Adam demands, skidding into the dining room. Plumette is half-crying from laughter into Lumiere’s cravat. Lumiere is using Cogsworth’s handkerchief to wipe away his own merry tears.

“We’ve probably ruined everything,” Belle cries. “That was an important dinner! We were supposed to sort out the treaty between Portugal and Rome—and, oh no, we were supposed to not put Spain near Austria—and, oh, I know we put the Turkish diplomat by the Polish, and you’re never supposed to do that—”

Cogsworth doesn’t hear a word. While they all slept, the messenger stopped by, and dropped note after note after note across the dining table of the sleeping palace; letters from across Europe, from every invited diplomat. He reads them with widened eyes.

“I don’t believe it,” he says at last, “I won’t believe it! After all my planning, all my calculating—this diplomat says they were delighted, this one that they’ve never had a better time. Poland is half in love with Turkey, after the introduction supplied last night by ‘the Queen in the grand dress’—what Queen?; and Spain tells me they’re so glad they had a chance to finally work things out with Austria, thanks to the comfort of the tea we supplied—what tea?! And here’s the Portuguese, about to become trading partners and more, and write a better treaty with Rome, modeling it on that drafted by the English emissary from last night! What are they talking about, the English ambassador wasn’t supposed to be there last night, he wrote to tell us he was ill— can’t fathom it! After all my planning, a bunch of amnesiatic idiots resolved it all!”

“And resolved more than that,” says Lumiere. “You finally admitted my napkin display was all right.”

“And you admitted I’m the friend who taught you to do them.”

“I admitted so from the first!”

“How dare you! I remember it quite clearly, and you never mentioned it.”

“Did I mention you forget many things, even when you’re not enchanted to?”

“You sputtering gaslamp, I’ll beg you to remember—”

Adam pulls Belle aside. “I’m glad I’ve got your name back,” he says, “though I wasn’t too far off with Beauty.”

“And I’m glad I know your face again,” says Belle. “I really do miss it when I’m not sure what it looks like.”

“Though it wasn’t too bad to not be ourselves, was it, and find out we’re much more than Prince and Princess?”

“Didn’t you know? We’ve always been.” Belle takes the ribbon from her hair, and uses it to tie up Adam’s messy ends. “It was a break to be someone else for a bit, but I’m glad you’re still Adam.”

“Me too,” he says. “Or at least until the next state dinner.”

[donewithjeon]

Level Up

Characters: Seokjin x Reader

Word Count: 30,017

Genre: Fluff

Note: Sacrifices to accuracy have been made for the sake of entertainment. Please enjoy the shenanigans, buffoonery, and borderline crack.

“I like your keychain.”

The boy glanced over at you at the sound of your compliment, staring through his clear-rimmed oval glasses that seemed to magnify his dark brown eyes and the surprise he held in them. By the looks of it, your sudden speech had caught him off guard, because it took him a couple seconds to realize what you had just said. His gaze traveled to his backpack that was placed atop his desk where the item of your interest was hooked carefully onto one of the zipper pullers.

The keychain consisted of four metal charms, each unique in its design. The one positioned on the bottom was a bright, yellow square with a white punctuation mark in the middle that represented a certain question block you were very familiar with. The three charms above it were a variety of power-ups in the colorful shapes of two mushrooms and a flower, all from the same franchise as the first—the best franchise, you might add.

“Thanks,” your classmate finally responded, turning back to you with a tentative expression and an inquiry to match. “You like Mario?”

“I love Mario.”

Just like that, his hesitation disappeared and was soon replaced with pure excitement in the form of one of the widest smiles you had ever seen. Seriously, you were scared that his puffed-up cheeks would cramp up and stay that way forever.

“I’m Seokjin,” the boy joyfully introduced, pivoting his position to face you and no doubt continue the tantalizing conversation that you had initiated.

You two were merely students in elementary school, but even in that moment, you knew that it would be the start of a beautiful friendship. Any bond formed by the mutual love of a flamboyant fictional character was bound to be one that was unbreakable.

Kim Seokjin.

The Mario to your Luigi. The Zack to your Cody. Your other half, only because that was approximately how much of your food he stole from you on a daily basis.

Your best friend.

From that point on, you always took notice of him when he walked down the hall or entered the classroom. Honestly, it wasn’t too difficult—you could hear him.

A melodious ringing followed him around wherever he went, as if bells were announcing his arrival. It resembled a noise similar to a couple of crystal chalices clinking together in celebration or a pair of polished sabers clashing in heated battle. The pattern remained constant, seeming to always match up with the boy’s steps whether he was dragging his feet to get to his dreaded science class or picking up the pace to be the first one in line at the cafeteria. It didn’t take you long to figure out that the sound originated from the very keychain you had noticed during your first friendly exchange.

Seokjin kept the trinket attached for years, and even as he got new backpacks to replace the worn ones, he never failed to transfer it so that it became customary to hear him before you saw him. Whenever you detected the distinct and rhythmic tone of metal against metal, you knew who it was. It became your way of finding him if you ever lost him in a crowd.

That, and yelling “free food”.

Growing up in the same neighborhood, you two often pestered your parents—bless their souls—into visiting each other’s homes, whether it was to study or play games; although, if you were being completely honest, it was far more of the latter. If you were seen together, chances were that the two of you were seated in front of a TV with controllers in your hands. Okay, that might have been a bit of an exaggeration—you guys definitely spent time watching movies and cartoons, too. In that case, the only difference in the scene was the type of controller in your hand.

With those priorities, you were surprised either of you were able to make it past middle school—but somehow, you did.

“I want you to call me Jin from now on.”

Looking up from the assignment you were in the middle of completing—you were very proud of the level of concentration you were holding onto—you casted Seokjin a confused look across the dining room table where you two had chosen to splay your schoolwork onto for the day. Sure, teenagers were bound to go through awkward changes in high school, but you had never thought that Seokjin was going to be one of those kids who suddenly adopted some sort of alter ego in the form of a nickname.

“What? But why?”

“Because Seokjin sounds so…old-fashioned.”

A gust of air escaped your nostrils in an airy snort as you diverted your attention back down to your work to refrain from laughing at the trivial reason. “I think your name is fine.”

“I like Jin better, though.” You could almost hear him defiantly pout through his words.

“Well, I like Seokjin.”

There was a silence after you made that comment, and when you peeked up to see if he had already given up on his petty dispute, you saw that he was just indifferently staring down at his textbook, albeit his ears appeared a few shades redder than they usually were.

“I’m glad that’s settled then,” you hummed, taking his action, or lack thereof, as a sign of surrender.

“You’re really not going to call me Jin?” he asked again, but there was less assertiveness in his voice this time around.

“I’m going to call you by the name your mother gave you,” you replied with a cheeky smile. You weren’t sure if he caught it though, since he refused to look up from his work after that—probably hanging his head in bitter defeat.

Seokjin didn’t bring up the subject again after that day. You thought that maybe he had changed his mind after your minor persuasion, but after a while, you noticed that all of his new friends and even many of his old friends were starting to call him Jin. Perhaps his agenda to push his updated identity was more successful than you had initially assumed, but even so, it didn’t affect you much.

To you, he would always be Seokjin.

If you had to choose one word to describe your best friend, it would be dork. He was probably the biggest dork in the world, and you meant that in the sincerest, fondest way possible. To be honest, the main reason why you declined to call him by his new nickname was because you felt that his old-fashioned name suited him very well—he was seriously an old man at heart.

From the first moment you had met him, he had worn these clunky oval glasses for his bad eyesight that had looked like they belonged to his dad. He had switched frames a couple times, but each one seemed to look more antiquated and fatherly in nature than the predecessors. Your personal favorite was the last pair he had sported that had a dark rim going across only on the top half of the glasses, because it amused you to no end how it made him look like he had two sets of eyebrows.

Much to your dismay, those days were long gone, left behind with the memories of your lives before high school. However, even as Seokjin got rid of his glasses and replaced them with contact lenses, you knew that you would never be able to shake the image of the dorky little kid from your mind.

You were saddened after the fact that you weren’t able to take any photos of him in all those unfortunate glasses, but those thoughts promptly fled your mind one particular day when Seokjin’s mother decided to whip out his childhood photos during one of your routine visits. It was surely an embarrassing situation for Seokjin, much like it would have been for any other teenage boy whose bumtastic baby pictures were being shared with his friends, but you were too busy taking photos of everything and laughing at his misery to empathize. You even used one of the more ridiculous poses he had done as your phone wallpaper for a certain period of time just to have the satisfaction of messing with him.

It was a true testament of your friendship.

For the longest time, you always associated Seokjin with the images you had in your head of his past self. It was to the point where you absentmindedly thought that you were still taller than him, because to be fair, you had been in the early years of your friendship before his growth spurt. It probably wasn’t until more than halfway through high school that you realized he had sprouted, almost like he had eaten the red mushroom from Super Mario.

“When did you get so tall?”

“Hm?” Seokjin responded with a tilt of his head, pausing his devastating attack on his ice cream cone to ponder your question for a second. His eyes examined you for a second as if he was realizing the change in your heights for the first time as well. “I have no idea.” You smirked at his lackluster and unhelpful answer, shoving a spoonful of your ice cream from the cup in your hand in return.

Either both of you were painfully clueless and horrible at paying attention what was happening around you, or the lack of awareness was just because you two spent so much time together that any change was just too gradual and easy to miss.

“At least I know how you got so tall.” You dropped your spoon into your cup and reached over to jokingly jab the front of his tummy, your fingers grazing the cloth of his shirt before sinking into his soft flesh. “You never stop eating.”

“Rude,” he exclaimed, somewhere between appearing offended and glaring daggers at you.

“Hey, I never said it was a bad thing,” you swiftly rebuked, throwing your hand up at the accusation with a grin. “It’s actually pretty impressive.”

Not in the mood to argue, Seokjin resumed his task of finishing his dessert. It was something he always seemed to do before you so that he could steal a few bites from yours afterwards. You didn’t even know why you allowed such blasphemy to occur.

Oh, right—he was your best friend.

The two of you definitely had other friends throughout your grade school years, but the esteemed prefix of “best” remained solely with him.

You visited each other’s homes at least once a week, usually on Friday nights since that was when you guys watched movies together. Having emerged from elementary and middle school, you had to spend less and less time glued to the TV screen if you wanted to have any chance of building up a good work ethic for the future. While you did greatly reduce the amount of hours that went into fun and games, instead of going the extra mile and completely removing that component of your lives, Seokjin and you agreed upon a designated movie night for all your viewing pleasures. It soon became a weekly tradition, save for a couple times you settled on skipping the custom for the sake of demanding and crucial events in your life, such as college applications.

It was a mystery how you weren’t sick of each other by now, but when you both received acceptance letters from the same mutually-preferred university of choice, you were absolutely ecstatic. Going to college together and living the dormitory life meant that you two would be the closest you had ever been—literally.

And quite frankly, you couldn’t wait to wreak some havoc.

This now brings you to present time.

A new chapter of your life story begins with the turn of a page. The gateway to your future opens with a heavy and daunting creak. The place you will be spending the next four years in makes its grand appearance before your eyes, and the sights, smells, and everything in between all seem to shout one thing.

Welcome to college.

Seokjin’s parents were kind enough to let you hitch a ride with them, since they were already planning on personally driving their son up here anyway. Seoul isn’t too far from your hometown of Gwacheon, but you appreciate the efficiency of taking one car instead of two, even though stuffing your combined luggage in the cramped trunk probably took the most of your time. You swear that the extra weight caused the car to splutter with a struggle each time it attempted to accelerate, but nonetheless, you all made it without the car stalling on you, and that’s always a good start to the day.

You’ve been going through a whirlwind of emotions all week; the majority of what you’ve been feeling can be summed up as excitement, but a good chunk of it is also fear. You aren’t even moving that far from your parents, but this is the first time you’re going to be living away from them, and that thought alone frightens you just a smidge.

You’ll never admit it though, and you don’t think you’ll ever have to, because as you look over at Seokjin walking alongside you, matching your pace as you take the first steps through the campus together with bags at hand, you feel at ease knowing at least he is here with you.

The major you entered when you applied for this school is business, just like every other student on the face of this planet. As for Seokjin, he found a major under cosmetology, something you didn’t even know existed here until he told you about it. You have a sneaking suspicion that he only chose that major just so he can have the right to say that he’s in the “Department of Beauty”, but you aren’t one to judge. The point is that both of you are here now after suffering through your entrance exams, successfully clearing the first hurdle of your college lives.

Now comes the second hurdle: moving in.

After a brief but heated game of rock-paper-scissors, Seokjin decides to graciously help you move into your dorm room first. You are able to find your room with ease, but as you approach the door to unlock it, you can’t help but feel a certain amount of paranoia seep into your bones.

What if your roommate turns out to be a psychopath? What if she’s a kleptomaniac? What if she’s some kind of serial nudist who rejects putting on clothes when she’s in the privacy of her own dorm which, in turn, is your dorm?

Oh god, what if she snores?

You turn the handle before you can have any second thoughts or create some kind of monstrous predisposition of your roommate before you can even give her a chance to disappoint you. When the door swings open, you immediately see a figure standing inside by one of the two twin beds. At the sound of your entrance, the female perks up from her current task of organizing her belongings and walks forward to greet you with a warm smile straightaway.

“Hi! You must be the roommate,” she exclaims for the sake of welcoming you with the least bit of discomfort as possible.

“Yup, that’s me,” you anticlimactically say, extending your hand and your name as an introduction.

“I’m Soobin,” she replies, taking your hand in hers to give it a curt shake. Her hand is warm, which is a good sign—at least she’s not reptilian, not that you actually buy into that whole conspiracy.

“And I’m helping,” a voice from behind you butts in melodiously. Seokjin brushes past you carrying one of many boxes you need to jam into this space by today, walking over to the unoccupied wooden desk and placing it on top of the polished surface. Once that’s settled, he turns to your roommate and steps forward with his own hand outstretched and a proper greeting flowing past his smiling lips. “My name is Jin.”

Heart-eyes must exist in the real world, because there is no other explanation as to the look Soobin has when regarding your best friend. “Nice to meet you,” she responds timidly, shaking his hand in a feebler way than she did yours. Once the interaction is over, Seokjin heads straight for the door again to take care of the rest of the boxes. You’re not sure if he even noticed that he was being ogled—he sure doesn’t seem bothered by it. Maybe it’s just that you’re just being too observant?

“We’ll just be bringing my stuff in, so don’t mind us.” Your words snap Soobin out of the trance she was in, and she appears embarrassed to have been caught as she faces you with a sheepish smile.

“Of course! Let me know if you need any help,” she briskly offers, backing away from the entry so that she can give you more room to move in and out freely.

You have to say, you can think of about a million and one other things more pleasant than moving into a new place, but with a little elbow grease from your best friend—he’ll probably claim that he did all the work—all of your belongings are in without too much of a struggle.

Unfortunately, this is only half of the deal.

Once your bags and boxes are more or less in their appropriate places, you proceed to accompany Seokjin to his own dorm room to help him move in as well. The bad news is that he is staying in a different building than you are, making for a lovely stroll as you lug Seokjin’s things to his structure. The good news is that it seems as though his roommate hasn’t moved in yet, judging by the completely bare quarters you two walk into.

The room is identical to yours in layout and size. There are two twin beds on either side of the wall, and on the far end of the frame, there are two wooden desks with a few shelves that extend up against the wall. The space is in near-perfect symmetry, excluding the door immediately to the left of the entrance that leads to a personal bathroom. It’s small and minimal, much like the entire dormitory, but you’re not about to complain—you’re happy that you won’t have to submit yourself to the communal showers.

Who knows what horrors they hold?

“So, what do you think your roomie’s going to be like?” you question as you strain to drag one of Seokjin’s larger luggage carriers through the door.

“Maybe he won’t even show up?” he says, following in after you with his own hands full.

“Eh, I wouldn’t get your hopes up. He probably just has a later move-in date.”

Seokjin sighs woefully, either from releasing the large battering ram of a duffel bag onto his bed or reacting to your statement. “As long as he’s not the spawn of Satan, I’ll make it work.”

A smile grows on your face as you finish wheeling in his bag and set it off to the side. Seokjin is always the optimist, and it’s a trait that has rubbed off on you throughout the years, albeit not in the most conventional way.

“Even if he is, we can probably set up some kind of ritual to exorcise him. I’m sure it’ll be a nice bonding experience.”

Your best friend doesn’t even bother turning to acknowledge your ridiculous proposal, but you don’t blame him. Being close to you for so long, it’s almost a given that he isn’t swayed by your crazy antics or ideas anymore. Instead, he just drones a bored response and makes his way out the door again.

“Fun.”

What’s not fun is how long it takes for you two to finish moving Seokjin into his dorm. You don’t understand how he managed to bring so much stuff, and this is after you arduously convinced him not to bring his five million Mario figurines. You have no clue how he’s going to fit everything in this tiny room, but then again, that’s not your problem. You have your own room to worry about, and with that as an excuse, you wave goodbye to Seokjin, leaving him knee-deep in his own regret as you head back to deal with your mess you have yet to unpack.

Soobin is still organizing her side of the dorm when you return. You give her a quick smile and she gives you a kind one back, but the exchange is still marred by an air of awkwardness that you’re sure most first-time college roommates undergo in the beginning.

As you begin to work on unpacking your stuff though, you occasionally glimpse over at her just to try and get a read on her vibe some more. She seems like a sweet girl with almost an innocent aura to her—there are no signs of insanity or nudity yet—but at this point, you don’t really have enough information to have a solid first impression.

As if she could read your mind, you hear her voice break the silence with some small talk. “How did moving into the other dorm go?”

You look up from the plastic container you’re crouched over and see her gazing at you with a genuinely interested expression. You assume she’s talking about the trip you took to help Seokjin out, and you draw out a long, overdramatic breath thinking about his room again.

“I did the best that I could do, but he’s on his own now.”

Soobin lets out a light chuckle, and you feel the tension release a bit as you grin as well. “Jin, was it?” she asks, and you provide her with a nod in confirmation of the correct name. “Is he your…” It’s like you can see her mind working to connect the dots and run through all the options in order to decide which one she should pick to fill in the blank. “…boyfriend?”

“No,” you promptly refute, dragging out the vowel sound a little too long when you realize how rapidly you spit that response out. You didn’t even have time to really process the question, but when you do, you’re left wondering how you never once thought of the possibility that people you meet for the first time may have that kind of impression on your relationship.

“Oh no. He’s not your brother, is he?” she follows up, the beginnings of a horrified expression rising to etch her face at the recognition of potentially having made that mistake.

“God, no,” you retort with even more haste than the initial denial. That question was so appalling to you for no apparent reason, as if being related to Seokjin like that is a far more repulsive idea than the first. “He’s my best friend,” you add on before Soobin can dig herself into a bigger hole with her guessing game.

With that, she sighs in relief, already prepared to laugh off the mistake. “That totally would have been my third guess.” You give her a look that lets her know that you aren’t the slightest bit convinced, but soon enough, you find yourself laughing as the two of you spend the rest of the day cleaning the dorm and breaking the ice by sharing snacks brought from your respective homes.

You have a feeling that the two are going to get along just fine.

“A little to the left.” Seokjin’s hand moves according to your instruction with a swift stroke. “A little more.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, just hurry,” you huff impatiently. His expression is hesitant, but he concedes to your wishes anyway, enacting one final swipe that makes the goal in sight. “Now, release!” you nearly shout, and at that command, his hand slams down on the big red button.

In front of you, the prize claw machine drops its metal hook into the pile of plush toys. Seokjin and you watch diligently as the slinky device plunges down and lands on top of a fluffy, pink unicorn. The mechanical talons clamp over the fat, horny head of the mythical creature, but as the wire ascends back up in an attempt to pull it out of the pile, the toy barely budges before slipping out of the gangly grasp. It’s just as you expected from a claw that has the grip strength of someone who skips every single arm day in existence.

Seokjin groans openly at the display of failure while you only sigh, having anticipated this outcome. “Let’s try one more time,” he proclaims, reaching into his pocket to fish out some more coins to feed the greedy bastard of a game.

“No, thanks. This thing is a trap.” You straighten your back from the hunched position you were in from staring forcefully at the machine.

“You’re giving up, then?” The tone of his voice and the look in his eyes makes it obvious that he’s taunting you, but you’re not going to give into this toxic competition—not when the meager contents of your wallet is at stake.

“I’m quitting while I’m ahead,” you explain, remembering that the only other time you attempted this game ended with you going home with two new plush penguin pals—you doubt a miracle like that will happen again.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You look off into the distance, feigning a deeply ponderous expression. “Having enough money for lunch sounds like fun to me.” It’s already too late though—Seokjin isn’t listening to you anymore.

“Just give me a few minutes,” he requests, taking the several coins he took out of his pocket and inserting one of them into the slot.

“I’ll give you five.”

With that ultimatum, you walk past your best friend to explore the rest of the arcade. This is your first excursion into the city after moving in yesterday, and you have to say that it’s going fairly well. It was definitely going better before Seokjin decided to stop at this arcade and blow his entire budget for the month, but you’re still enjoying the sights and sounds of the streets surrounding your campus. You don’t know how much free time you’ll have once classes start up, so you’re glad to be making the most out of your last moments of stress-free relaxation.

Five minutes must have passed by while you were busy admiring the flashing display of a sticker photo booth, because you feel someone tapping on your shoulder. When you spin around, Seokjin is standing there, and contrary to your previous prediction, he is not empty-handed.

“Here, this is for you.”

He prods the object forward, and it’s only when you lift your hands to accept it that you get a proper look at it.

“A llama?” Your voice rises in confusion as your eyebrow quirks up at the white, beady-eyed ball of fluff that is staring back at you.

“It’s an alpaca.”

“Weren’t you trying to get the unicorn?” Seokjin just shrugs as if that’ll answer your question. “So, you got this by mistake?”

“There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.”

You stare vacantly, refusing to give him a reaction as his face lights up with a smile too proud for what he just said. Apparently, playing the claw machine game is an art form. Thankfully, he changes the subject before you have a chance to acknowledge the unprompted Bob Ross quote.

“Did you want to take some sticker photos?” Seokjin motions to the bright machine behind you, but you just shake your head to decline.

“Maybe another day when I actually look good,” you reply, glancing down at the alpaca to pet its fleecy head. You spent the entirety of yesterday and this morning laboring to clean and organize your dorm, so it’s safe to say that you probably aren’t the most presentable human being at the moment.

“But you always look good.”

Your hand freezes on the plushy, and your eyes dart up to Seokjin who seems to be more interested in looking at the machine behind you rather than your face.

“Wow, a present and a compliment?” you exclaim with inflated astonishment. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch!” He finally flits his eyes to you, looking offended that you even accused him of having ulterior motives for his kindness. It gets a good laugh out of you as his cheeks puff up into a pout, and you lightly smack him on the chest with the alpaca’s head.

“Alright, alright,” you say in between your chuckles before calming down into a softer smile. “Thank you.” Seokjin returns your gesture with a grin of his own.

“But you are paying for lunch, right?”

It’s his turn to laugh as you stand and glower at him. You don’t know why you expected anything else. This is commonplace in your friendship, after all. It’s typical, but as Seokjin turns around to lead you out of the arcade, you look at the stuffed animal in your hands and feel a smile creep back up onto your face.

It’s half past noon and the first few classes of your first day of school are done and over with. You’re waiting under the shade of a tree in the campus courtyard after texting Seokjin to meet up for lunch. There are so many places to choose from around here, and you two established a pact to eat at every single one of them at least once. You just might have to break that pact and go grab food on your own if he doesn’t show up soon though—you’re starving.

Just then, a familiar noise reaches your ears.

It starts off as a distant ringing, but before it even comes closer, you turn to the direction of the source. Sure enough, you see Seokjin making his way across the paved path, and with each step he takes toward you, the metallic melody becomes clearer.

“Glad to see you survived,” you greet as you walk forward to meet him halfway down the courtyard.

“Don’t speak too soon. It’s still early in the day—and the school year,” he reminds you, successfully inciting a weary side-eye from you as you begin your journey to find sustenance. Your eyes trail behind him while you walk side-by-side, and while he’s carrying a new backpack you have never seen before, a glint of sunlight reflects off of the shiny surface of the object dangling from one of the zippers.

The Mario keychain.

It looks like this is one trinket he couldn’t bear to leave at home with the others. If you’re being honest, seeing it again—and hearing it, of course—gives you a strange sense of comfort, even though it hasn’t even been that long since your last encounter with it. You feel something stirring deep within you, like the keychain is evoking an emotion so raw, it can only be found in the pit of your soul.

Wait, maybe that’s your stomach growling.

“So, how’s the dorm coming along? Is it safe for me to stop by yet?” you ask, averting your eyes to pay attention to the walkway in front of you.

“Almost done. My roommate is still trying to clear up all of his boxes since he got here late. Should only take a day or two more.”

You nod a couple times in understanding, your mind traveling to Seokjin’s enigmatic roommate for just a second before you switch over to much more pressing topics, like whether you should eat beef or chicken for lunch.

Towards the end of welcome week is when you finally meet him: Min Yoongi.

Yoongi is a quiet fellow all the way from Daegu. You would comment on his accent, but that would require you to actually hold a conversation with him that lasts more than two words. He’s a computer science major, which explains the ghostly pale skin; he has a serious computer tan going on—must have been working on it all his life. His black hair is stark in comparison, yet strangely more well-kempt than you would anticipate it to be. There’s nothing else to say about him, because he doesn’t really say anything to you either.

Every time you walk into their dorm, he’s either out or tucked away at the desk on his side of the room with his headphones on, blocking out the world around him. He’s polite enough to mutter a “hey” each time you enter, but your visits become so frequent so quickly, his acknowledgment of your arrival turns into a simple head nod.

As ludicrous as it sounds, you’re the slightest bit disappointed that there isn’t going to be an exorcismal bonding experience in your future. He acts like such a pacifist most of the time, but alas, that doesn’t stop you from poking the bear every once in a while in hopes of riling it out of hibernation.

With how much time you spend in Seokjin’s dorm, you take it upon yourself to fulfill your duty as an honorary member of this household.

“Calcifer is so cute,” you casually comment, your eyes all but glued to the screen of the laptop in front of you that is currently playing Howl’s Moving Castle.

Movie night is still very much a tradition, one you adamantly refuse to break, even though improvisations had to be made due to the lack of a TV in the dorms. Seokjin’s laptop is placed on top of his desk, and you two are sitting comfortably on his bed in front of it. The lights are turned off, and the illumination of the LED screen filters through the room to create an atmosphere of being in your own miniature movie theater.

“He’s a fire demon,” Seokjin rebukes, like that detail will suddenly change your mind.

“So what? Demons can be cute.”

As if on cue, you hear the handle of the door jostle, and with a speedy rotation, the entry swings open to flood the room with light. The bulbs from the hallway radiantly shine behind the figure, leaving only a dark silhouette standing within the frame, but you can tell who it is right away by the lanky stature and the chicken boy legs.

Yoongi freezes in his spot upon entering, one hand still on the knob and another stopping on the way to flip the light switch. He has one foot in the room and the other behind him, and you reckon that the direction he will move towards will depend on what you say next.

“Hey Yoongles,” you greet nonchalantly, raising one hand up for him to see. “Do you want to join us?”

Before you can even finish that sentence, or more specifically right after you recite the terrific nickname you came up with on the fly and bestowed upon him, the door shuts again, with Yoongi on the other side. You detect the tapping of his footsteps as he walks away, probably heading right out of the building. You turn your head to look at Seokjin who does the same thing to you in unison after that brief guest appearance.

“He’s peachy.”

“He’s not that bad,” he defends half-heartedly before turning his attention back to the movie.

“As long as he doesn’t murder my best friend in his sleep, I’m all good.” Seokjin snorts at the idea, and you two resume your viewing of the fantastic movie without any more interruptions.

To ensure that both parties aren’t inconvenienced by the surprise again, Seokjin and you inform Yoongi of your movie night schedule and even get his approval—or maybe a better word for it is tolerance. Even so, the two of you are on the more fortunate side when it comes to the roommates you were given.

You have grown to be immensely grateful that Soobin is nothing like the fearsome foe you prematurely thought her up to be. Especially after the wild night at the freshmen housewarming party during welcome week—the party you two agreed never to speak of once it was over—you have to say that you two are practically blood sisters now. You’re glad that the dorm gods blessed you with someone as sane as her, and while you can’t confidently say the same for her, she seems highly accepting of you and all your quirks.

Plus, she doesn’t seem to mind your best friend each time he comes over.

Not including the embodiments of sunshine that are your roommates, you two also make a few other friends, including a certain psychology major by the name of Kim Namjoon.

Seokjin introduces you during your last term of the school year since they’re taking the same math class. Who knew that having your hopes and dreams crushed by Statistics could bring people together?

Namjoon is a fairly tall and fit guy with tan skin and dimples that come out of hiding whenever he smiles and occasionally when he speaks. His brown hair always seems well-coifed whenever you see him, but his most impressive feature is what’s inside that head of his.

“So, you’re saying you skipped a grade?” Namjoon nods at your question and you give him a look of amazement.

“He’s also here on a scholarship,” Seokjin tacks on, and you can almost see Namjoon smile nervously at you as you gape even further. “He’s a genius.”

“I’m really not,” he tries to humbly explain. “If anything, I’m just on the fast track to saying goodbye to my youth.”

Truer words have not been said. At that, you regain your composure and pat him on the back knowingly. “Welcome to the club.”

Rather than gloat about his intelligence like you’re sure many people in his position would, Namjoon likes to think of his situation as getting a head start. With his plans on eventually going to graduate school after this to earn his doctorate and become a psychiatrist, he’s definitely going to need it.

He also needs a little guidance when it comes to making light conversations with the people around him.

“Did you know that the majority of homicides are committed by the people closest to the victim?”

You halt in the middle of eating your meal to slowly look up at Namjoon who sits across from you with a faultless smile on his face. Seokjin doesn’t seem fazed by the random fact as he continues scarfing down his food without a care. You can only blame yourself for making him so immune throughout the years with your own strange behavior.

“Did you learn that in psych or something?”

“Yes and no,” he says, taking a sip from his soft drink. “We were learning about the mentality of serial killers, and I went off on a tangent with my own research.”

“Well, then—lay it on me,” you proclaim before taking a sizable bite out of your cheeseburger.

“Statistically speaking, you’re more likely to be killed by someone you know—like friends and family—than by a stranger. And you’re also more likely to be in your place of residence when it happens.”

“Makes sense,” you hum in understanding, as off topic as the spontaneous lesson was. Then, something clicks in your mind, and your lips morph into a sinister smile that you’re pretty sure is making Namjoon uncomfortable, but that’s the point. “Aren’t you glad we’re friends now?”

That sentence shuts him up for the rest of the meal, something that amuses even Seokjin. Thankfully, you don’t scare off the poor boy, but he does seem warier with the facts he throws around when he’s with you. Your next mission is to make him grow a funny bone for humor, because even though you made your joking taunt, you’re definitely glad he’s sticking around to keep you and Seokjin company.

Verily, it seems that your repertoire of friends has expanded quite a bit, and despite all odds, the first year of college ends without a single murder.

“Oh? Where’s Seokjin?”

Briefly scanning the dorm room, you don’t see any sign of your best friend as you pass through the threshold. Yoongi turns in his chair to regard you and your question with a lethargic stare and points a finger towards the foot of Seokjin’s bed. Following the direction of his gesture, you glance over to see a colorful piece of paper sitting on top of the mattress. When you walk over and pick it up, you are able to identify that it is a flyer of some sort for a club that is setting up their recruitment table near the main auditorium. You don’t care for all the extra information on the page, because the moment you see the words on the bottom, you already have your answer.

There will be free food!

“Of course,” you think out loud, placing the paper back down and turning to walk back into the hall again. “Thanks.” You wave farewell, but Yoongi is already back at it on his computer doing whatever it is he does. After closing the door on your way out, you pull your phone from your pocket to check on your food fanatic of a friend.

Welcome week is here again, which means that there are numerous events happening all around campus. This being your second year, Seokjin is probably using his prior knowledge to sniff out all the important stands with more speed than last year. You’re going to head on over to where Yoongi pointed you to, but you need to send a text and make sure you don’t begin running around on a wild goose chase just because Seokjin catches word of complimentary cupcakes on the other side of campus. You’re so focused on your phone screen as you pace down the corridor of the dormitory, you don’t notice that someone is turning the corner to go the opposite way until he nearly runs into you.

“Oops, my bad,” you apologize, snapping your head up from the distracting device and taking a step backwards to give him space to pass you. You stop in your tracks when your eyes land on the person in front of you.

The guy appears to have lilac hair, but you can’t see most if it because it’s hidden under the obnoxiously red crab hat he’s wearing that is equipped with plush legs and claws protruding from the sides. His face is exposed through the circular cut-out in the front, and he is beaming so splendidly, you can’t tell if you’re being blinded by his smile or his headpiece.

“No problem!” he brushes off cheerfully. The guy walks past you, or more like skips past you, and your eyes can’t help but follow his bouncing figure until he disappears into the room across from Seokjin’s.

Wow. Freshmen are getting weirder every year.

Seeing the eccentric garb does manage to get you thinking about Halloween. Even though it’s only the beginning of September, you stand by the notion that it’s never too early to get into the spirit of the holiday; it’s especially true this year, because you have an exciting event to look forward to.

The Halloween costume party.

Last year during this time, you weren’t able to attend the celebration due to an unfortunate circumstance by the name of Kim Seokjin. He had gotten the flu from a particularly snot-infested classmate a few days prior to that weekend, and being the excellent, irreplaceable friend that you are, you decided against going to the celebration without him. Instead of partying it up with the numerous Jokers and Harley Quinns that flooded the costume scene that year, you stayed at Seokjin’s dorm to keep him and his sniffling nose company. You ultimately nursed him back to health, but not before getting sick along with him and regretting your life choices for the rest of the term.

You were surprised that Yoongi didn’t get sick, especially since you thought his brittle exterior would resonate with his immunity as well. Then again, he did lay down some ground rules the moment Seokjin starting showing symptoms, including a temporarily set dress code of a medical mask within the dorm. It seriously felt like you were walking into a quarantine zone each time you visited.

Nevertheless, as fun as that was, you are relieved to see that everyone is in tip-top shape with Halloween right around the corner.

Seokjin and you decide a few weeks ahead of time that since you’re going to the party together, you might as well think of costume ideas together. After a couple good suggestions and a load of bad ones—you don’t know why anyone would want to go as ketchup and mustard bottles—Seokjin insists a rehash of the outfits you two wore one Halloween as children. You comply without argument, partially because they’re very simple costumes to put together. The larger part of the reason is because you just want to let Seokjin have his fun, since he was just as disappointed as you were about his sickness preventing him from turning up last year. If anything, his eagerness for this year’s party is through the roof to make up for it, and with how easily you two manage to get your costumes ready, you can’t wait for the event.

So, who are Seokjin and you dressed as? Why, none other than the world-famous Italian plumbers themselves: Mario and Luigi!

You agreed to let Seokjin dress as Mario while you took the role of the lesser brother, because you’re just the gift that keeps on giving. The denim overalls, long-sleeve shirt, and comically big hat aren’t really the epitome of sexy, but they’re super comfortable and good for shielding yourself from the cold temperature of the late-October night. Now you can look at all the other girls and boys who choose the sexy route rather than the fully-clothed route and laugh at their sniveling misery—okay, that’s probably going a little too far.

Hey, you’re just getting into the spirit of Halloween.

Maybe your overflowing anticipation has something to do with it, but soon enough, the fateful, frightful night is right in front of you before you know it.

“Yo.”

Both Seokjin and you turn your heads towards the speaker of the curt greeting and see Namjoon walking up to you, donning his questionable costume. According to what he texted you earlier today, he’s supposed to be Dr. Victor Frankenstein, but the get-up leaves much to be desired. He’s wearing a long, white lab coat that you’re pretty sure he’s reusing from his chemistry class and vintage, round sunglasses that you think are supposed to simulate the circular goggles you often see mad scientists wearing. Never minding the fact that he’s wearing sunglasses at night—this is Halloween after all, so you guess anything goes—there’s not really a special feature that sets him apart from an ordinary, boring scientist.

When you asked Namjoon why he didn’t choose a more recognizable or spooky character—like Frankenstein’s monster, for example, since he does have the height for it—his answer was a very formal defense of his selection that almost turned into a makeshift British Literature lecture, explaining that “Dr. Frankenstein is more of a monster than his creation”.

Honestly, he should have dressed up as a vampire with how well he sucks the life out of everything.

“Are you guys supposed to be a couple?” Namjoon asks once he walks up to you, eyes darting between you and Seokjin as if he’s seeing the two of you together for the first time. You fake a gasp, successfully drawing his undivided attention onto you.

“Are you suggesting an incestuous relationship between the world’s most beloved brothers, doctor?”

Your hand is unnecessarily resting on your chest to simulate being flabbergasted. He returns to you a dumbfounded expression, his mouth slightly agape but with nothing coming out. You’re certain that you’ve successfully planted an image in his mind that he’s desperately trying to eradicate from existence.

“Thanks for ruining my childhood,” you hear Seokjin speak up in disgust beside you. You turn your head and offer him a wicked smile.

“You’re always welcome.”

Moving on from incest, the three of you make your way across campus towards the building where the party is being held. The music is loud enough for you to hear the place before you can even see it, but when you do, the outdoor scenery isn’t all that exciting, save for a few stragglers staggering around the front of the building.

The inside, however, is a completely different story—the entire atmosphere is amplified tenfold. The lights inside have been dimmed and replaced with rotating LED bulbs that bathe the darkness in colorful crystal ball effects. The speakers are blaring a loud, thumping tune that you can barely register over the numbing sensation of your brain vibrating in your skull.

There is a wide range of costumed individuals scattered all throughout the area; you see everything from the latest trending superheroes and villains to memes from hell that have taken the form of walking pickles and dancing hotdogs.

Without another thought, your feet lead you straight to the refreshments zone, and likewise, Seokjin splits off to the other end of the room with Namjoon at his heels where you are able to catch a glimpse of snack trays. There are no words exchanged between you two as you go your separate ways through the crowd, but there doesn’t need to be.

You are both on a mission.

Besides, it shouldn’t be that difficult to find each other again. This place isn’t vast enough to get lost, and you’re wearing matching costumes, for crying out loud.

Well, what you forget to take into consideration is the devil’s juice that makes its way into your hand the majority of the night, housed in a plastic solo cup that shines as red as the lord of the underworld himself. Accordingly, the contents burn your insides and pump fire through your veins, making you feel like you’re truly roasting in the eternal flames of damnation.

Note to self: never utter the words “surprise me” to someone mixing the drinks at a college party ever again.

After consuming a good number of mystery cocktails and swaying with the crowd in a way that sort of resembles dancing, you realize that your ability to find Seokjin has dwindled significantly.

Oh well—not like it’ll keep you from trying.

As you aimlessly roam around a less populated part of the room in hunt for even a glimpse of Mario, you suddenly spot someone facing away from you with bright red atop his head. That must be him—you knew you would be able to see the vibrant Mario hat from a mile away. He’s standing at the mouth of a hallway that branches away from the main room where you remember noting that the bathroom is located in. Miraculously, you manage to walk up behind him, and as you tap on his shoulder, you feel a swell of pride for completing your search.

Too bad it’s not Seokjin.

What you thought was a hat isn’t a hat but crimson hair—bold, luscious, healthy, vivacious locks of gorgeous hair that sweep and bounce whimsically when the person swings his head to look at who beckoned him.

Wow, so beautiful.

A low chuckle rises from the guy that is barely audible enough to detect over the ongoing music. “Thank you.”

“Wha?” you question ever so eloquently, staring at the way the lights are rebounding off of his silky smooth strands. Seriously, what conditioner does he use?

“Thanks for the compliment.”

You freeze at the words, and your mind reels back to do a double take. Oh god, did you actually say the “beautiful” comment out loud? It was already ridiculously creepy the way it sounded in your mind, so you can’t imagine how much of a mess it was coming out of your mouth.

Luigi, please forgive me for soiling your holy image by portraying you as a thirsty weirdo, at least more than the internet does already.

“I mean, I like your hair,” you blurt out in an attempt to salvage the dipping conversation. That’s when your attention drops down to look at the face of the person you’re talking to, finally making contact with his brown orbs just in time to see him shoot you a boxy grin that—wait a minute.

“Wait a minute,” you slur, vocalizing your inner monologue once again. “Wasn’t your hair purple before?”

The boy’s face lights up in surprise before he nods in confirmation. “Yeah! How did you kno—”

His speech cuts off, or is it you who cut him off? Either way, he stops talking.

Actually, you have no recollection of what happens after that moment. The last thing you remember is his eyes growing wide, so wide that you wonder how a human can have disco lights as eyeballs with the way the shifting lights twinkle off of the glossy surface area.

To be honest, you’re glad the memory is lost somewhere in the oblivion of your mind—your brain is probably repressing it to save you from mentally reliving the horrors of what you said and did in that momentary blind spot of your night.

The next thing you remember is walking out the door and feeling the cool breeze hit your face, and strangely enough, the top of your head.

“Where’s my Luigi hat?” you ask drowsily to no one in particular, reaching an arm up to verify that it is indeed gone. Thankfully, a deep voice speaks up beside you to answer your query.

“Trust me, I don’t think you want it back.”

With your lips poised in a pout, you turn to the speaker who appears to have one of your arms draped over his shoulder, providing support as the two of you walk across the concrete towards a safer section of soft grass. Even in your drunken stupor, you can comprehend that it’s the stranger with the purple-turned-red hair helping you out in your shameful time of need.

What an angel.

The guy’s shoulders shudder a bit under the weight of your arm, and at first you think it’s because of the cold, but then you notice that he’s laughing. You probably made a fool of yourself, yet again.

“Actually, the complete opposite.”

You’re confused by the meaning behind his words, until your eyes trail down to look at his costume. The outfit consists of red combat boots, black leather pants, a black t-shirt that has been tucked in, and a stylish leather jacket that is the same scorching scarlet as his hair and the plastic cup that started your descent into madness. Your eyes are able to focus just enough to see the miniature red horns from a headband perched atop his head that is camouflaged within the fiery field of hair. You can’t help but laugh at the irony when you understand what he means.

He’s dressed as the devil.

“What’s a better way to break the ice between acquaintances than a little humiliation, right?” you plead Soobin for approval once she wakes you—the sober, very hungover you—the next morning.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she says with loving callous while patting your back like a parent does to a sick child—that’s basically what you were reduced to last night.

You did your best to relay the eventful party to her in excruciating detail, or at least the parts you still remember. Seokjin actually did well to fill in a few of the gaps for her when he escorted you back to your room last night, most of the information which she was more than willing to recount back to you.

Your red-haired rescuer was able to do what you couldn’t and found Seokjin at the party; he was probably motivated by the fact that you kept calling out that you lost your Mario. After making sure to take you off of the kind stranger’s hands with a thanks, Seokjin basically delivered you back to your dorm where a responsible Soobin was getting ready to go to bed after listening to her better judgment, unlike you, and moderating herself that night.

All in all, you were returned unscathed—well, your hat was a sad but necessary sacrifice.

The human torch who helped you through the deplorable events that occurred apparently found the entire situation hilarious. Good for him for finding humor in your pain and shame. At least it looks like you made a new friend? You just hope that the cost was worth it.

Kim Taehyung is never going to let you live that night down for as long as you breathe.

“Nooo!”

The devastated cry comes from both you and Seokjin in perfect unison as you watch another character meet a disastrous demise in the movie you picked out for the night: Train to Busan. You were prepared for some thrilling zombie action, but you weren’t ready for this rollercoaster of emotions when you suggested this film. Nonetheless, you are loving every aspect of it so far.

Well, almost every aspect.

“I am going to enjoy watching that guy die so much,” you venomously comment, referring to the character who caused the heartbreaking scene that is playing before you on the laptop screen.

“How are you so sure he’s going to die?”

“Because if he doesn’t, I’m going to kill him myself.”

Seokjin hums in agreement before you two return your attention to the movie. There’s a great deal of irritated yelling throughout the rest of the storyline, but once the ending credits start rolling and all your frustrations have been let out, an interesting conversation spawns from the concept of the movie.

“Face it. You would probably be the first one to die if we ever had a zombie apocalypse,” you tease, leaning back onto the wall to make yourself more comfortable on Seokjin’s bed. Your best friend throws you a dirty look from your right.

“And what about you?” he asks accusingly.

“I’m a pretty decent runner when I need to be.”

“You can’t outrun a zombie.”

“I don’t need to,” you calmly clarify, an impish smile curling the corners of your lips. “I just need to run faster than you.”

“Gee, thanks,” he protests loudly at your dishonorable hypothetical action. “You better hope you run faster than me, because I’m going to come back with a vengeance to get you as a zombie.”

“I’d love to see you try,” you respond smugly. You reach over to pat him on the shoulder but he recoils dramatically, leaning away with an angry pout.

“You’re the worst.”

You simply shrug and give him a despicable smile.

“That may be so, but at least I’ll still be alive.”

Emergency Gong Cha run.

Eyeing the text that pops up on your phone, you heave a sigh and lift yourself up from your seat, hearing a few concerning cracks from your back as you do so. Ignoring your body’s delightful reminder that you’re only getting older, you walk towards your closet to change out of your comfortable but unsuitable clothes for your outing. You don’t care that it’s dark out and that you’re abandoning your reading assignment on your desk right now.

If Seokjin wants to call you out for a spontaneous snack, you’re not going to complain.

“I’m going to Gong Cha,” you announce to your roommate who is at her own desk staring intently at the screen of her laptop. “Do you want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” she replies, glancing over to you for a brief smile before returning to what you assume are her studies—either that or she’s extremely invested in watching videos about ancient cooling systems.

Once you have your real people clothes on, you head on down to the nearest Gong Cha, which takes no more than five minutes. Outside of the entrance, you see Seokjin already standing there, waiting for you arrive. When he finally sees you drawing nearer, you raise your hand to give him a brisk wave.

“What’s with the sudden boba?” you ask when you stop in front of him.

“I have a paper due at midnight, so I need sugar and caffeine.”

“And why am I here?” You toss him a follow-up question as he proceeds to open the glass door for you to enter.

“Because you want free boba,” he states matter-of-factly.

“You know me so well.”

The two of you go up to the register, and as promised, Seokjin pays for your drink; you make sure to get the large size even though you’ll probably be running to the bathroom by the time you’re done with it. It’s totally worth it, though.

Bribery is a fairly common occurrence with your relationship. You would say that you have a healthy amount of it and that it’s pretty harmless, unlike the other B word that you only save for special occasions.

Special occasions like when Seokjin threatens to unleash confidential information about your embarrassing past to your new friends—chiefly, the one incident that involves a bicycle, an old man, and a cabbage.

Fortunately, two can play at this game.

“I don’t think you want to wage war with me,” you inform Seokjin in a composed manner against the dumb move he’s supposedly going to make. “I still have your baby photos.”

“You’re lying,” he promptly accuses, but you give him a stern shake of your head. “How is that even possible?”

“I transferred them from my old phone to my laptop.”

He looks exasperated only for a second before leaning back in his chair in a carefree manner. “It’s okay. I was cute as a baby.”

“Not in the photo I have.”

You meet his admonishing glare with a sly smile that only grows as you hear the word slip past his lips.

“This is blackmail.”

There it is—the blasted B word.

“I’d like to think of it as leverage.”

Much to your relief, and probably everyone else’s, not all of your interactions are so malicious in nature. Friendship is all about give and take, and you are a master of being thoughtful, if you do say so yourself.

This brings you to the third B word: birthdays.

You could argue that it belongs with the first B word, but truthfully, you revel in going shopping for birthday presents for your best friend. It’s especially fun when you decide to do it just before a big exam when you should be studying instead, just like right now.

Most of your shopping, whether for clothes or gifts, is done with Soobin or Seokjin, but the former is busy crying over her latest research report, and you very much can’t bring the latter along to buy his own present—there would be absolutely no surprise in that.

Looks like you’ll just have to resort to the next best option.

“What about this?”

“Yuck, noona. I thought you had better taste than that.”

You narrow your eyes at Taehyung as you lower the jacket in your hand to shove it back where you got it from. It has been about 30 minutes since you two started browsing the mall, but you are already severely regretting your decision to bring him along as your shopping buddy. You sincerely thought that his input would be helpful, since he is majoring in fashion design and all, but the only thing he’s helping you do right now is raising your blood pressure.

“This one is good,” Taehyung declares, lifting up a dress shirt with a distinctive motif on the collar that you recognize right away.

“That’s the fourth Gucci item you’ve shown me in a row.”

“So?”

“So,” you draw out, trying hard not to grit your teeth. “We’re shopping for Seokjin, not you.”

His lips pucker into an exaggerated frown as he places the shirt back onto the rack. You ignore his childish antics and continue scanning the articles of clothing in front of you.

“This?” you call out again, pulling a nice denim jacket out of the row it’s in and bracing yourself for another insulting comment about your fashion sense.

“Nope, the fit is all wrong.”

You raise your eyebrow as you glance over at the tag that’s staring right at you. “What do you mean? It’s his size.” Taehyung just shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“It doesn’t matter. That man is built like a Dorito. His shoulders will never fit into that.”

“His shoulders?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed his shoulders before? They’re broader than the color spectrum of this hideous shirt.” His left arm pops up on cue, and the t-shirt he is holding has a peculiar design that you’re pretty sure is supposed to be a holographic alien.

“I can’t say that I have,” you admit the truth, slowly putting the denim jacket back while contemplating what your friend just said. Taehyung sighs profoundly, putting the shirt in his hands back where it belongs, too.

“You’re hopeless, noona.”

And there’s that insult, coupled with the supposedly polite pronoun that might as well not be there, since it doesn’t soften the blow one bit.

Where did you go wrong? He seemed like such a sweet boy when you first met him. Maybe you should have taken his Halloween costume more seriously, since it was obviously a fair warning. At least his red hair has been yet again replaced, this time going black with green highlights, so you don’t have to be reminded about that night each time to lay eyes on the little devil.

At the rate you’re going now, you’re never going to find a decent present.

No. That’s the mindset of a loser, which you are definitely not. You refuse to give up so easily. You’re going to stick it out until the bitter end, even if you have to keep looking all day with Taehyung the critic by your side.

Luckily, the universe cuts you some slack today.

An enormous gasp overwhelms you as you feast your eyes on what is in front of you—the reaction is probably a little overdramatic, but you couldn’t care less. Taehyung immediately perks up from the variety of jeans he’s looking through and heads towards you, not even bothering to ask what you found. You unhook the white t-shirt from its rack and hold it up in front of you to admire in all its glory.

“This is perfect.”

You feel Taehyung come up behind you, and you only say that because he literally props his chin on your shoulder to examine the item in your hands.

“Really? Isn’t that a little too childish?”

“Have you met Seokjin?” you ask, flabbergasted at the notion.

“Touché,” he agrees without needing much time for thought. “I think he’ll love it.”

Your fingers wrap around the dangling tag so you can take a closer look, and you see more digits than you were hoping for. “For this price, he better.”

Taehyung merely shrugs, lifting his head off of your shoulder. “That’s the price you pay for fashion.”

And it’s a price you’re willing to pay to get out of here, except it doesn’t quite work out that way. It takes you at least three more hours after purchasing the shirt to return back to your dorm, because your fashionista friend insisted on getting the most out of the trip by covering the rest of the mall.

Another note to self: never go shopping with Taehyung.

“Wake up.”

“Huh?” You open your eyes at the sound of the voice and find yourself in a dark room. In any other case, you would be worried, but you’re safe inside Seokjin’s dorm, sitting on his bed with your back against wall for support. Standing next to the desk is Seokjin himself, and judging by the closed laptop on the table, he seems to be putting it away after finishing tonight’s movie.

“I can’t believe you fell asleep during The Godfather,” he speaks up again, turning to look at your sleepy form in disapproval.

You sit forward and straighten yourself out, feeling a slight crick in your neck from your head having lulled to the side for what you can only assume to be over two hours. The Godfather is such a long movie. You raise your arms up into the air to stretch it out, and the blanket that was on top of you slides off to the side—oddly enough, you don’t even remember wrapping yourself in one before you basically blacked out.

“It was so boring,” you murmur, eyelids already starting to shut again in fatigue. You blame the research report you stayed up all night yesterday to finish. Sure, you could have worked on it earlier, but what can you say?

You like to live on the edge.

“You’re barely awake right now, so I’ll forgive you for that disrespectful language,” he says, walking up next to the bed. “Now, come on.” He prods you on the arm to get up, but all you do is sway at the tap as your eyes remain closed.

“Can’t I just sleep here?” you whine, waiting for the approval so you can just fall over and catch some Zs.

“I don’t think Yoongi will appreciate that.”

“Hmph,” you grunt in protest, but you know what he said is true. While Seokjin’s roommate is out of your hair during movie nights, he will come back sooner or later, and it better be to a you-free zone if you want to stay on his good side—if that even exists. Either way, you really shouldn’t overstay your welcome.

“Here.”

You open your eyes with great difficulty at the proclamation and you see Seokjin crouching down on the floor near the bed with his back facing you.

“Where?” you question, not exactly sure what he’s referring to—that’s probably because you’re already getting lured back into the arms of sleep.

“Get on. I’ll take you back to your dorm.”

Rather than a request, his words sound more imploring. You feel slightly ashamed that you’re so useless when you’re half-asleep, but you’re also just shameless enough not to let this offer slide. You’re not about to reject his kind gesture, especially not when he’s already in the inviting position for you to latch on like a koala.

“Don’t blame me for your back problems in the future,” you mumble as you push the sheets away to crawl forward, accepting right away just in case he changes his mind.

Slipping your arms over his shoulders, you curl them loosely around the front of his neck. He rises once you rest yourself on his back, and he gets a good grasp of your thighs as you pull your legs forward. Doing the good old hop to secure your position and make sure you won’t slip, he begins his trek out of the room and to your own abode.

The area is fairly peaceful during this time of the night; there’s no special event going on this weekend, so most of the students are either out taking the city by storm or bundled up in their rooms recuperating from the storm of a school week that destroyed them. You appreciate the quiet, or as much as you can get in a place like this, but tonight, the footsteps of Seokjin carrying you to your room sound much heavier to your ears than any pounding bass of a party tune.

“I’m sorry,” you speak up, unable to last the rest of the walk without saying something. Your eyes are still closed, but your mind is too noisy for you to comfortably float back into dreamland.

“You’re still awake?” he asks, probably having expected you to knock out cold during the free ride home. “It’s fine. The Godfather isn’t for everyone. We can watch a more recent movie next time.”

“No, it’s not just that,” you interrupt, a strange sense overwhelming you like a chill from the night air. Tightening your hold on Seokjin, you try to bring yourself closer to him for warmth, although you’re pretty sure that you can’t get any closer than you already are. “I’m sorry you have to walk me back like this.”

“Like I said, it’s fine,” he repeats with not a single drop of malice in his voice. “This isn’t my first rodeo.” You don’t even have time to register whether or not that was a joke about the piggyback ride before he continues. “You’re actually the most awake out of all the times I’ve done this, so I’d say that’s an improvement.”

You take a moment to try and rack your brain for any of the previous instances of this happening, but you’re sure that there’s a reason those are not present in your memory.

“Wow, why are you even friends with me?” you joke, not really expecting an answer to your rhetorical question, but Seokjin doesn’t leave it alone.

“I ask myself that every single day.”

“Huh, glad you agree,” you grumble, drawing a good chuckle from your carrier that shakes his shoulders just a tad. He settles back down and the atmosphere returns to being still, but just when you think that the conversation is over, he speaks up again.

“I guess you’re not too bad to be around when you’re conscious.”

“Why, thank you. You speak too highly of me,” you say sarcastically, contemplating whether or not you should take advantage of your position and put him in a chokehold.

“And it’s pretty cute how you drool in your sleep,” he adds on unexpectedly.

“Hey! I don’t drool,” you defend straightaway. You may not be the most sophisticated lady on campus, but you will not stand for this slander on your sleeping habits.

“Whatever you say,” he teases, the intonation of his voice rising in an obvious show of mild mockery.

The conversation does end there until he drops you off at your room. There, you two exchange a word of thanks and farewells before he leaves you to your own devices. You enter your room as courteously as possible, making sure not to wake Soobin who braved the all-nighter with you to finish her own project. You don’t have to be too cautious of making noise, because the first and last place you head to for the night is your bed.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift off to sleep once again, but this time, a sentence Seokjin said on your way over here is stuck on repeat in your mind. Specifically, one word echoes on a loop like a lullaby, making you float into a content state of relaxation and bliss.

Cute.

The end of the second school year is approaching before you know it, and you’re surprised that even after the interesting events that happened, all of you are making it through the year without any casualties. You can’t vouch for property damage though, because Namjoon has broken a couple of Seokjin’s sunglasses and even a door knob of a classroom…and also one of the legs of his dorm bed—but you digress.

Okay, now that you think about it, Seokjin did sprain his finger for a few weeks, but that wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. Only he would manage to hurt himself while trying to bestow a punishment on your wrist as part of a bet since you lost a game of Mario Kart against him.

Only he would manage to lose even when he won.

Other than that minor incident that involved your forearms of steel, you have to say that the school year ending on a reasonably good note.

You are getting along with Soobin extremely well, and as far as roommates go, she’s the best—not to mention only—one you’ve had so far. She’s a keeper alright—it was written in stone from the moment you woke up after that freshman housewarming party to see that she picked up some hangover soup for you. So, you two established that you will room together for the following years as well. Neither of you were willing to go through the lottery again and risk obtaining a disagreeable roommate.

Seokjin also made the same pact with Yoongi, believe it or not. You can’t fathom the reason, but he told you that they just matched well together. With how different they are, the only thing you are certain that they share is human DNA.

Well, that and another thing.

Standing in front of Seokjin’s door, you rap your knuckles on the wooden panel before reaching for the handle to walk into the room. You two have plans this evening to go eat at a new restaurant a few blocks from here, so you know that he’s expecting you to bust in at any moment—hence, the unlocked door.

You step into the dorm and courteously close the door after you. When you turn back around, you are faced with a horrifying sight that nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

“Holy sh—oh, it’s just you.”

Yoongi is staring indifferently at your startled self from his usual position at his desk, but in this instance, he has on a white towel wrapped around his head and what looks like a face sheet mask used for skin care. The latter of the two prevents him from talking or welcoming you with any semblance of emotion, not that he does that anyway. You’re used to seeing people with face masks on—you often utilize them before you go to sleep to keep your skin nice and hydrated—but you have never seen the one Yoongi has on at this moment. It’s a metallic silver rather than the normal white cotton, making him appear like he has a layer of foil on his face.

“What’s up?” Seokjin greets as he walks out of the bathroom located off to the side.

“Nothing. It just looks like your roommate decided to skin the Tin Man and wear his face.”

Yoongi looks at you ever unamused, but of course, the mask makes everything so much more entertaining to you.

“Don’t make him laugh,” Seokjin chastises, passing by to walk over to his side of the room.

“I don’t think he’s capable of laughter.”

“He said his skin was acting up so I let him use one of my face masks.”

“Sharing is caring, I guess.” At this point, Yoongi has already spun back around to return his attention back to his laptop screen, happy to ignore whatever exchange that follows. Diverting your own attention, you gaze towards Seokjin who is by his bed now. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

He turns away from you to gather his belongings from atop his desk for the dinner outing, and as you stare at his back, you’re suddenly hit in the face with a resounding, accentuated word.

Dorito.

Dear lord almighty, Taehyung was right. With Seokjin’s broad back in full view in front of you, it’s like you’re seeing for the first time how wide his shoulders are in comparison to his slim waist. Was he always like this? How have you never noticed this before? This experience reminds you of the instance when you suddenly noticed how much he grew during high school, except this time, you’re dealing with a phenomenon you can only attribute to his body filling out to take the shape of a real man.

You don’t know how you feel about this revelation or how you’re supposed to feel, but one thing is for certain.

You’ll never look at Doritos the same way again.

Your third year of college starts off just like the last two, except now that you have gotten into the groove, you have grown as comfortable as can be with everything around you. Perhaps you’re a little too comfortable, because you remain assured in your outlook that everything will stay more or less the same, just like it always has. You predict that the months will most likely carry on without any major disturbances, but like Seokjin likes to say, you shouldn’t speak too soon.

Anything can happen.

Well, anything except you learning your lesson when it comes to the annual housewarming party.

“Can you walk by yourself?”

You know it’s an excellent end to the night when someone has to ask you that. Hey, at least you’re conscious enough to comprehend the question this year—and you’re pretty sure you’ll remember this in the morning. Probably.

“Of course, I can walk by myself,” you chastise a little too loudly, the vestiges of liquid confidence rushing through your veins as you wave off the speaker of that ridiculous inquiry.

Seokjin is the speaker in front of you, warily eyeing your form as you lift yourself up from the bench outside of the venue you somehow found your way to. You stare down at the ground as it shifts the slightest to try and throw you off balance, but you get up on your own two feet without so much as a hiccup.

“See!” you exclaim, looking back up to see Seokjin standing at a closer distance than you expected. His arms are up as if to make a barrier around you in case you fall, which is completely unnecessary because you’re perfectly fine. You don’t want him to have to carry you back to your room like all the other times he told you about—you can handle this all on your own.

“You’re standing,” he states, not convinced by the proof of your adept balance. In response, you lazily shove your hand onto his chest to get him to move away before taking a couple steps forward and starting a slow march down the left side of the pathway.

“And now I’m walking,” you proclaim happily, even surprising yourself with how little you seem to be tipping and swaying.

“You’re going the wrong way.”

“You don’t know that.”

You hear a sigh from behind before footsteps come up next to you to match your pace. Not a moment later, you feel something warm slip into your hand before it pulls you gently in the opposite direction, changing your course. Glancing over at the perpetrator, you see Seokjin walking beside you, and when you lower your gaze, you see his hand intertwined with yours, leading you to where you need to be going. You can’t help but let out a giggle at the display, and he tilts his head to give you a strange look when you tighten your hold to let the heat from his hand seep into your skin.

“It’s like we’re kids again,” you say with a snicker, recalling the times in elementary school when you had to hold hands with your classmates and friends before crossing the street.

“Well, one of us is.”

You admit that Seokjin is not really wrong, since alcohol basically does have the tendency to reduce fully grown adults back to infancy by taking away their motor and speech skills.

“How come you’re not drunk?” Your head lulls a tiny bit to the side as you examine how your best friend seems to be not at all inebriated.

“Because someone needs to make sure you get home, and it’s not going to be you,” he casually elucidates as his reason for being completely fine.

Your legs keep moving despite your mind being left behind with the words he just said. The fact that he just told you that the reason he doesn’t drink to his heart’s content is because he wants to get you back to your dorm safely makes you feel giddy in a way that you didn’t think was possible. There’s a buzzing within you and a sense of safety just knowing that someone is there for you even when you make horrible decisions, although the rapid heartbeat could just be the residual excitement from the party.

“Why are you laughing like that?” Seokjin suddenly asks, pulling you out of your thoughts and making you aware that you were giggling like a schoolgirl again. “It’s creepy.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t think being creepy is something to be proud of.”

“No,” you interject earnestly, dropping your attention to the ground to watch your feet try to match Seokjin’s wider stride. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you say a bit quieter this time. A few seconds of silence pass as if he’s thinking of the right thing to say before he responds with an equally soft voice.

“You know I always will.”

You’re not sure if it’s because you’re still floating in the sea of intoxication, but those words take a strong hold on you. It makes you think of how many other times he has been by your side to take care of you; the number has to be too high to count, because even on the nights that showcase your worst decision-making skills, last year’s Halloween party and the year prior’s housewarming party are just to name a few, you always end up in Seokjin’s capable hands as he does everything but tuck you into bed—that job belongs to Soobin.

It’s not that Seokjin shuns drinking, because you know from experience that he could drink most people under the table. Your heart swells at the thought that he is regulating himself in order to make sure you can have fun without having to worry about ending up in a ditch somewhere, and it could be just the alcohol speaking, but the realization that he just made what sounds like a promise to be your designated guardian makes you feel like the luckiest irresponsible girl alive.

“Hey, I think I’m sobering up,” you suddenly say with probably a little too much wide-eyed seriousness, but it makes Seokjin laugh, so in turn, you smile as well.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

The trek to your dorm doesn’t take too much longer to complete. Actually, it feels like it took a total of about ten seconds by the time you walk up to the door of your room. The corridors of the building are fairly empty due to the inhabitants either being asleep or still out having the time of their college lives.

Seokjin guides you down the hallway, passing by a few scattered empty cups and a room with a lucky sock on the doorknob before you two stop in front of your own door.

“Thanks, again,” you repeat once more, turning to grant him a sluggish smile.

“Don’t mention it.”

As you two stand there, he meets your eyes for a prolonged moment, as if waiting for something to happen. All of a sudden, a strong urge rises from within you, and you waver towards Seokjin for a split second before you stop yourself right away.

“You should leave before I throw up on you.”

Seokjin wears a bleary expression, as he always does with you, but he isn’t shocked since this isn’t the first experience he had with your nonsense—you can promise that it certainly won’t be the last, either. He murmurs a terse goodbye before spinning on his heel to walk back down the hall you came from.

It’s only in that moment that you feel a hollow breeze drift across your palm, and the steady realization hits you that he didn’t let go of your hand until just now.

It’s a few weeks into the school year when one of the first signs of change appears to you in the form of a text. You and your friends are finalizing plans to grab lunch together during the weekend at one of your favorite fried chicken joints, and Namjoon comes out of the blue to throw you a curve ball.

Is it alright if I bring someone?

Your eyebrow raises at the unforeseen words on the screen for only a split second before you recover and type out your answer—or question.

Ooh, a girlfriend?

You add on a couple winky and kissy faces after the message as an extra measure to shower him with annoyance only a friend would have the honor of receiving. A response promptly follows your jesting gesture.

No, he is a male.

Without missing a beat, your fingers work to concoct another text.

Oooooh, a boyfriend??

Of course, you don’t forget to tack on the unnecessarily obnoxious emoticons along with it. You only have to wait a few seconds before Namjoon’s reply flies in swifter than ever.

NO. JESUS CHRIST. He’s just a kid I tutor.

Reading the reply, you tilt your head in confusion. Namjoon bringing a kid he tutors to lunch with the grown-ups—that’s certainly not something you expected to happen anytime soon. But hey, you don’t mind kids at all, and fried chicken can be enjoyed by people of all ages. You’re not going to decline, so you tap out your stamp of approval and send it off.

Sure! The little dude can tag along.

Spoiler alert: he is not little.

Namjoon failed to mention that the “kid” he invited is a full-fledged college freshman. From first glance, he isn’t anything close to being a kid, and there’s nothing little about him. He is 178cm of pure muscle and doe-eyed wonder, and his name is Jeon Jungkook.

“So, what’s your major?” you bring up in an attempt to break the ice.

He has been sitting quietly next to Namjoon on the other side of the table for a while now, just staring at the plate and utensils in front of him with a look that you can only describe as the one people have when they realize that they forgot to turn off the stove at home. Maybe that’s just his default resting face, but since you’re all waiting for your food to come out, you figure that you might as well get to know the guy.

“Graphic design.” His voice is a tad soft, but he seems very attentive to your conversational efforts, so at least you have something to work with.

“That’s cool,” you hum, nodding your head at the answer. Perhaps this was a bad topic to start off with, since you have absolutely no input in that field whatsoever. You also don’t want to ask him follow-ups regarding his future career and all that jazz; you don’t want to give the poor freshman crippling anxiety when you hardly even know him. Deciding to switch it up, you divulge your second question of this improvised interrogation. “You have any hobbies?”

“Oh no,” you hear Namjoon whisper all of a sudden—and that’s the only thing you hear from him.

Apparently, you just opened Pandora’s box. Everything from video games to rock climbing spews from him like a fountain of passion, and it would have most likely been overwhelming to most, but since you started this conversation, it’s only right you continue to guzzle the interests down. You can’t find it in your heart to end it though, because as much as it feels like a barrage of information, you actually feel yourself bonding with him, especially after learning that he uses the same perfume as you—yes, perfume.

The commotion is only halted by the chicken arriving—food always calls for everyone’s full attention.

“If only he was this passionate about schoolwork,” Namjoon laments with a sigh once all the food has been placed on the table before you. He wears a look of defeat that you can only assume means that he has dealt with this plenty of times before, and judging by the sheepish and downcast smile that rests on Jungkook’s face, you can also assume that he has heard this nagging equally as many times.

Taking note of this, you give Namjoon a frown. “Not everyone was born for the books like you, Joonie,” you coo. You reach over with your fork to stab the largest piece of chicken you can find before turning to Jungkook with a grin and placing it on his plate. “I think you’ll be just fine.”

The smile Jungkook gives you makes you realize why Namjoon called him a kid. He’s beaming like a child on Christmas morning, and you see a glimpse of his distinct front teeth, ones you swear you saw at a pet store once, before he immediately goes to chomp down on the offering you just gave him.

Feeling a disturbance in the atmosphere on your left, you turn your head to look at what it is, and you see Seokjin staring you down from next to you, although you can argue that it’s borderline glaring. You blink a couple times at him, waiting for something to be said. Instead, he averts his eyes without a word, so you do the same, brushing past how weird that exchange was.

Is he upset that you gave away the biggest piece of chicken to the new guy? You know that Seokjin is a man who takes his food seriously, but you think it was a nice gesture on your part, so whatever.

There’s plenty more where it came from, but you have to act fast.

Much to your surprise, you hit it off exceedingly well with Jungkook. Thus, your circle of friends extended even further. Well, it’s only really by one. The kid doesn’t really have any other friends, it seems. Maybe that’s why he begins joining your group activities and gatherings and even your group chat on KakaoTalk after the initial meeting you all had. He has also become particularly keen on texting you to go out to eat and whatnot, but you don’t blame him—you knew your striking good looks and charming personality would get you attention one day.

It’s either that, or you’re the only one willing to humor him on his constant outings.

You don’t mind keeping him company, and in fact, you quite enjoy hanging out with the little dude. It reminds you of how carefree you were back when you were just a freshman. Or when you were a sophomore. Or you know, when you were procrastinating your writing assignment just last week.

Yes, the good old days.

Speaking of days, today is one, and some time before noon, you take it upon yourself to go on a leisurely stroll to Seokjin’s dorm. When you arrive at the door, you knock a suitable amount before turning the knob to walk right in. The knock wasn’t absolutely necessary since you texted Seokjin earlier asking if you could come over, a message to which he replied back by telling you to let yourself in since the door will be unlocked.

“I bear gifts,” you call out in a singsong voice after you close the door behind you. You stand by the entryway with a carrier tray of two drinks and a brown paper bag only to see that no one is in here.

“Bathroom,” you hear a voice come from, you guessed it, the bathroom.

You make a noise of acknowledgment and make a beeline towards Seokjin’s desk. You carefully place the iced coffee and breakfast burritos on the tabletop before plucking one of the former items out of its cardboard transporter. Usually, one of these is for Yoongi since you like giving him peace offerings—it’s the least you can do for imposing on what is ultimately his dorm as well—but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. Unless Seokjin and Yoongi are bathroom buddies, you don’t think he’s going to be in anytime soon.

Regardless, you place the Americano on top of Yoongi’s desk just in case he proves you wrong. Having done that, you return to Seokjin’s side of the room and make yourself comfortable on his chair, something you’re a pro at by now since this place has become like your second home.

Bored already by the silence, you whip out your trusty phone to check for any notifications. There’s a text message from Soobin that goes something along the lines of “I’m going to eat so much at K-BBQ tonight”, and you reply with a flurry of meat emoticons that you’re sure she’s going to decipher to be you sharing her excitement.

When you exit out of that conversation, you see a few more new texts waiting to be read, so you take the time to go through them and send out your responses.

At Seokjin’s.

You expertly type out your last message before you hear a strangled cry come from the bathroom that interrupts your mobile mojo. The door swings open, and Seokjin begins stomping furiously towards you with one hand hovering beside his head.

“Did you drop your phone in the toilet again?” you ask as he comes to a halt in front of you.

“No!” he gripes in agony. “What is this?!”

With that yell, he practically shoves his head right up in your grill, coming so close to your face that you have to scoot backwards on the rolling chair to avoid going cross-eyed. When you focus on what’s being presented, you observe that his fingers are held in a pincer grip, and between his index finger and thumb is a silver strand that stands out from the black locks.

“It’s a gray hair,” you retort nonchalantly.

Seokjin bellows like a tormented whale and spins around in a theatrical motion to fall face-first onto his bed, his body bouncing from the impact on the mattress.

“I can’t believe I have gray hairs already.” His distressed voice is muffled by the sheets, but you’re still able to discern his speech.

“Come on, it’s just one. It’s probably from stress or something.” Your words make Seokjin all but wail into his bedspread, and the only thing you can do is sigh at the juvenile display.

Just then, a knock interrupts the quarterlife crisis, and the door pops open not a second later to reveal a beaming Jungkook.

“Hey noona!” he greets cheerfully when he sees your face, and you lift your hand up to give him a simple wave as he walks in and shuts the door. His line of sight darts over to where Seokjin is splayed over his mattress, and it only takes one look for him to recognize that he has walked into the middle of something. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He found a gray hair.” Yet another muffled cry is howled into the blanket. “Please tell him that he’s not getting old,” you implore, turning to Jungkook for help.

“You’re not getting old, hyung.” Seokjin lifts his head up to acknowledge Jungkook’s attempt at comforting him, but the thanks on the tip of his tongue doesn’t have a chance to be formed into existence. “You already are old.”

Seokjin flings a pillow across the room at Jungkook, but he dodges it skillfully with a rowdy snicker. When the laughter dies down, Jungkook turns back to you with the remainder of his mischief resting as a candid smile on his face.

“Are you ready to go?”

You’re about to answer Jungkook’s question, but Seokjin beats you to the punch.

“Where are you two going?”

“Kookie asked me to go bowling with him,” you state, getting up from your spot to stretch out your back—thankfully, no cracks erupt from it this time. “You wanna come, too?”

“No, thanks.”

There’s that subtle glare again from the chicken restaurant, except this time, it’s done much more openly. Your eyebrows crease as you frown at the unwarranted hostility. “You can always dye your hair if it bothers you that much.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He drops his head back onto the bed, and you watch his hair jump up ever so slightly before falling back into place.

Ignoring the offhand rejoinder, your eyes wander over to the untouched drink on Yoongi’s desk and take a few steps towards it. “Hey, Kookie. Want some coffee?” Your hand reaches out to grab it in anticipation for the answer he will most likely give.

“Sure!”

As you walk the cup over to him, Jungkook starts animatedly singing the chorus of Americano by 10cm, only shutting up once he relieves you of the cup to take a long sip from the straw. It breaks your heart to think that this kid would have probably been holed up in his room playing Overwatch for 12 hours straight if he didn’t have such an awesome friend like you.

“Oh, right.” You suddenly remember your brief texting conversation with Soobin. “Are we still on for tonight?” you ask, turning to direct the question at Seokjin. “Did you check with Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

His face isn’t visible since it’s still buried in his bedsheets, but you definitely heard that half-baked answer. “That’s good. Also, I left you a breakfast burrito on the table.”

“Thanks.”

Seokjin doesn’t move a muscle from his position, and it only makes you frown deeper. Usually, he’s all over that and probably would have inhaled the food by now. You never thought he would get so worked up and upset over such a miniscule thing such as a gray hair. You would do something to try and drag him out of his sorry state, but Jungkook is already walking out the door and holding it open for you to leave as well.

“I’ll see you later, then,” you mumble before you step out into the hallway, allowing Jungkook to holler his own farewell over you.

“Bye, hyung!”

You don’t have anything to say about the bowling experience other than you will get your revenge. It may not be in the same activity, nor do you think it’ll be anything in the sports category if you’re being realistic, but you will reign victorious one of these days.

You will win over Jungkook even if it’s the last thing you do.

Composing yourself from your not-so-friendly competition, you can definitely concur that you worked up an appetite. It’s the late afternoon by the time you’re done, so Jungkook and you decide to head back over to your respective dorms to change and get ready for dinner. Jungkook is actually the one who suggests this, although you have no idea why the change of clothes is necessary, especially since he’ll probably sweat through them again regardless. Maybe he wants to switch his current plain t-shirt for his other plain t-shirt, or maybe the other fifty.

You should really ask Taehyung to spruce up the boy’s wardrobe when he has the chance. The kid can probably benefit from having a fashion-savvy friend. Plus, you’re sure Taehyung will be up for the challenge.

Once both of you are freshened up and ready to go, you accompany each other on the walk that lasts several blocks to get to your destination. You check your phone on the way and see that Seokjin hasn’t tried contacting you since the you left. You try not to think too much of it though, since he did confirm that he was going to show up tonight.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook and you are the first ones there, followed closely by Namjoon who greets you with his usual single syllable “yo”. A few more people begin to show up for the gathering whom you only really recognize to be from Namjoon and Taehyung’s circles of friends. You all loiter around the front of the barbecue place, not being able to be seated until at least half your party is present since the size is so large. To reach that minimum, you just need one more person to arrive.

“Is that…Jin?” Namjoon cautiously speaks up while squinting in a direction of the sidewalk you are on. Turning around to observe the street, you see a handful of people walking toward you, but as you scan the heads, none of them seem familiar.

“Where? I don’t see him.”

“No way…” you hear Jungkook say with disbelief under his breath next to you.

“What?” you ask impatiently, obviously not being able to follow what’s happening.

You search among the pedestrians again, craning your head to get a better look behind a man whose broad shoulders are closing in and doing a damn good job of blocking the view of anyone who is behind him.

Wait, broad shoulders.

The moment your eyes lock onto the man in realization, they nearly pop out of their sockets at the spectacle. It is certainly your best friend, but his countenance is almost unrecognizable. He appears more like the human embodiment of a Ken doll the closer he gets, showing off his newly minted blond hair.

“Hey,” Seokjin hails when he stops in front of the group with a lackadaisical wave and a tightlipped grin. Everyone else seems to be too speechless to speak, so you take the opportunity to do it first.

“You know, when I said ‘dye your hair’, I meant dark brown or something, not freaking platinum blond.”

“You don’t like it?” His lips curve down to turn into a frown, and his eyebrows crease in worry.

“No, no. It’s looks great,” you assure, only speaking the truth. You don’t know what else to say as you stare absorbedly at his fresh appearance. His forehead is exposed by his fringe being styled up and away from it in a windswept but elaborate manner, and the sides of his hair have been buzzed short in what can only be defined as the perfect undercut. Someone should give this hairdresser an award for the best cut and color to ever exist.

You feel kind of dumbstruck, unable to tear your eyes away from the golden mane. It’s like he’s a blindingly radiant lamp and you’re a bug who doesn’t care that you’re flying straight into your electric death.

“Alright! Let’s go in,” one of Namjoon’s friends calls out from behind you, pulling your attention back to your surroundings and making you realize that you were zoning out.

You have known your best friend for almost your entire life, but gazing at the man in front of you conjures a strange sensation that you can’t explain, mostly because you’ve never experienced anything like it before. The look in his eyes administers an altered vibe as well, and while it’s not quite strange enough for you to feel uncomfortable, it does somehow feel like you’re standing in front of a different person than the one you met as a child.

The expression on Soobin’s face when she arrives is that of a changed person, as well. It’s like her interest in Seokjin has suddenly been rekindled, and you can practically feel attraction being transmitted from her like radio waves even as she sits on the other side of the table from you and him. The twinkle in her eye that you recall seeing on the first day you all met is now replaced with an ember, and strangely enough, you feel the beginnings of one burning within you too, except yours is in the pit of your stomach.

It’s probably just your hunger again.

The side dishes are brought out to the table before the meat for the K-BBQ does, as usual, and you promptly begin to stuff your face with the steamed egg in hopes of getting your mind off of whatever it is you’re trying to avoid thinking of.

A few minutes later, the orders arrive, and a few more minutes later, Taehyung finally arrives—fashionably late, if you will. The grilling process has already started without him, but the first thing he does before he takes his seat is walk up behind Seokjin’s chair and place a hand on his shoulder in a prideful manner.

“Alright! You were able to get a walk-in!”

Seokjin detects your confused expression you’re not exactly attempting to hide, and he explains Taehyung’s outburst. “I asked him where he got his hair dyed.”

You instantly swing your head up to gawk at Taehyung accusingly. “You suggested this to him?”

“Yup! My salon is known to be great at dyeing hair,” he boasts, stepping off to the side to plop onto the empty seat next to Seokjin’s.

“Unbelievable.”

“I know right? It looks amazing, hyung!”

Taehyung’s not wrong—you’ll give him that much.

You feel sort of guilty for sneaking glances at Seokjin while you’re all eating, but not enough that it stops you from doing so. It fascinates you too much how he seems like a brand new person, and you’re not just talking about his hair. His entire aura feels different in an indescribable way, but you hardly think that it’s something that can be done overnight, or in this case, approximately four hours.

You have a feeling that things have been different for a while now—you just couldn’t see it until it was flashing in your face like neon lights.

“I’m telling you, put the apple slices in the bowl first and soak it with milk. Then, add the cereal on top. It’ll change your life.”

Your face sours at Jungkook’s vivacious attempt at persuading you to join his blasphemous cult of people who pour their milk before their cereal. You have no idea how the apples got invited into the equation, but you will not be swayed nor converted.

“My life doesn’t need to be changed for the worse, thanks,” you dismiss as the two of you reach the end of the campus courtyard and enter the building you’ve been heading towards. It’s lunchtime now, so almost everyone is sauntering around with plans to fill their bellies, just like you.

“Suit yourself,” Jungkook says with a shrug, shoving his hands into his pockets as you continue on down the hallway. He looks like he wants to say something else, but his expression suddenly changes as something makes him crinkle his eyebrows. “What is that?”

“What is what?”

“That noise,” he specifies. You concentrate your ears to pick up on anything peculiar, but all you hear is a certain familiar tone traveling through the corridors. “It’s like someone’s trying really hard to wipe glass, but there aren’t even windows in here.”

“Oh, that’s definitely Seokjin,” you state with no doubt in your mind. If there is one sound that is as recognizable as the ringing of his keychain, it’s his laugh.

Sure enough, when you two turn the corner, you see your best friend halfway down the path with Namjoon. They both have outstanding smiles on their faces as if they just heard the best joke of their lives, except that can’t be possible because you weren’t there to tell it. Now that you set your sights on Seokjin, it’s safe to say that after a week has passed since the big change, his blond hair is has become the third distinct feature you can use to find him if you ever lose him in a crowd.

Jungkook and you steadily approach the boisterous pair, but when you draw near, you swear you see Seokjin’s smile start to disappear from his face at your appearance.

“Hey guys!” you call out to announce your presence, although it’s only half-necessary at this point. “Ready for some tacos?”

“You know it,” Namjoon replies with zest, doing well at maintaining his dimpled smile unlike some people.

“Actually, I have to bail today,” Seokjin speaks up as if reading your mind in the worst way. “I have other plans.”

The sudden news makes you furrow your brows with disappointment. “What could be more important than Taco Tuesday?”

“Soobin asked me to go to this new café with her.”

“Oh,” you voice, feeling your disappointment grow even more. “Okay.”

Seokjin’s attention flicks over to Jungkook for a split second before he looks back at you. “I’m sure you guys will be fine without me for one day.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go have fun on your date,” you drone as a wisecrack, but somehow, you don’t feel like laughing. You don’t know whether Seokjin is ignoring the comment you made or silently acknowledging the title you bestowed upon the meeting with his lack of denial, but either way, he just moves on from it and bids his farewell to the group.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

As you watch him turn around to go on his merry way down to the other end of the hall, your eyes and ears are drawn to the keychain on his backpack. It still creates the ever familiar clinking as it gets jostled from side to side with the fast-paced steps Seokjin takes.

It’s another strange manifestation, listening to the melody fade away rather than crescendo like it usually does. You realize that you never really paid attention to it when he left, because he was always advancing to meet you or already beside you. Somehow, each ring feels like a jab today, even as the sound drifts away due to the distance Seokjin is putting between you two.

Until it disappears.

You don’t understand where this all this spite is coming from. You have absolutely no reasonable excuse to be feeling this way. Despite the confusion with the occasional shifts in mood he has when he’s around you recently, Seokjin and you are on more than good terms—excellent terms, even. As for Soobin, she has not done a single thing to get on your bad side since you met her. You don’t know what’s so bad about Seokjin befriending your roommate, especially since you’re technically hanging out with Seokjin’s friends in a similar fashion. So, what the problem can possibly be is beyond your recognition.

Oh well, it’s nothing some good tacos can’t fix.

“Hey there!” Your roommate’s voice reaches your eardrums as she walks into your shared dorm with a white box in her hand and a content smile on her face.

“Hey,” you reply naturally from your desk, turning away from your work to give her your full attention. “How was the café?”

“It was super fun! And the food was delicious.” Soobin’s expression does nothing to hide the happiness bubbling out of her. “We should go together sometime! I think you’ll like it,” she suggests in a way that would disarm anyone from harboring any sort of ill will towards her. “I also brought you back a cake!”

And there goes any remnants of resentment you held today.

“Oh,” you say, feeling more foolish by the second when your unreasonable anger dissipates to reveal just how petty you were being. She hands you the container holding what you assume is holding a little slice of heaven, and you stare at it guiltily. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry. It was Jin who paid for it.” Just like that, the gnawing feeling is back. “He paid for the entire meal too, even though I told him I would be totally fine with splitting the check.”

Soobin proceeds to drop off her things on her desk to begin unwinding from the outing—it’ll probably be hard to do considering that you can practically feel the ecstatic energy being emitted off of her. There’s probably nothing you can say right now to knock her off the cloud she’s on, so you just listen in silence.

“He’s such a gentleman,” she croons, spinning on her heel and falling back to take a seat on her bed with a hearty spring. “I mean, I know I don’t need to tell you, though. You probably know that already.” There’s not a single hint of enmity behind her words, yet they still fell like a poison specifically made for you, because the instant they leave her lips to meet your ears, there’s a stinging sensation that just refuses to go away.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Thinking back to the moments leading to your first encounter with Soobin, you remember that the most pressing worries you were concerned about were whether your roommate would be a serial killer or a thief. Your mind went so far to think of all the highly unlikely scenarios, but you never bothered to conjure up the questions that are starting to take form now.

What if Soobin falls for your best friend?

But then you realize that there’s a second question burning in the back of your mind, one that haunts you more than the last and even more than you’re willing to admit.

What if he falls for her, too?

The sound of unsteady, labored breathing pierces through the thick air in sharp exhales. Jungkook is in front of you, the curves of his muscles on display as they tense up with each movement he makes.

“Come on! You can do better than this.”

At the taunting phrases you throw at him, you see a smirk appear at the corner of his mouth before he works to pick up the pace. His exposed biceps ripple under the new speed in which he takes charge, and the fluid motion becomes even stronger than you anticipated—up and down, back and forth.

“Almost there!” you yell when you see him start to tremble. He’s so close to breaking—it’s obvious by his appearance and the way his face scrunches up with the strained effort to keep it up—but his athleticism and stamina continues to impress you.

Still, every man has his limits, and Jungkook soon reaches his. With a final, heavy pump, he lets out a sound similar to a growl, one so primal, it takes you by surprise. Shortly thereafter, he releases himself, collapsing to roll over onto his back, his chest rising and falling at an accelerated speed as he attempts to catch his breath. His skin is covered in a glistening sheen of sweat from the strenuous activity he just partook in, and it causes his dark hair to stick to his forehead in untidy clusters.

“Eh, not bad,” you voice out, making sure to sound as unenthusiastic as possible.

“How many was that?” he asks, turning to look at you while wiping the moisture from his neck with the back of his equally sweaty hand.

“I don’t know. I lost count.”

“Are you serious?” he cries out in exhaustion, throwing his arms out to his sides so that they land with light thuds on the mat below him.

“Don’t blame me. You’re the one who suddenly decided to show off.”

“I’m not showing off,” Jungkook defends, rising to a seated position and locking eyes with you. “I’m warming up.”

“Right,” you draw out in an unconvinced tone.

Diverting your attention from Mr. Macho, you take some of this down time to take in your immediate surroundings.

You don’t know what you did to get in this position, but here you are, watching Jeon Jungkook do push-ups on a Wednesday evening. All the others around you have already scattered, moving as far away from your corner of the gym as possible; your motivational cheering and Jungkook’s caveman yodel probably did well to scare them off.

“Why did you even agree to come?” Jungkook unexpectedly brings up. You’re about to spew a witty comeback, but when you tilt your head to look at him, he seems genuinely curious as to your reason. He mostly likely noticed your lack of excitement and desire to be here, not that it’s difficult at all to perceive.

“I’m wondering the same thing.”

“You could have said no.”

Jungkook extends his arm to the side to grasp his water bottle before unscrewing the cap. You merely give him a shrug and a bored expression. “It’s not like I had anything else to do.” The sentence comes out of your mouth a little more malevolent than you were intending.

The truth of the matter is, you got out of your last class of the day and was met with two texts: one from Jungkook asking on a whim if you were up for a workout session and another from Seokjin giving you a heads up that he’ll be out eating dinner with Soobin for the next few hours. Not that you don’t enjoy spending your hump day getting sweaty and swole, but you can’t help but have a reemergence of that resentment that seems to be following you around these past several weeks.

It’s fine—you didn’t even want to be invited, especially to something that involves food. You would have been the third wheel, anyway. It’s totally cool.

“You can bail if you want.”

Jungkook rips you out of your rage-induced reverie, and when you focus back on him, the concerned look on his face makes your heart clench just the slightest—like, the tiniest, near-undetectable amount.

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” you break the tension with a joke. It successfully wipes the concern from his face as it’s replaced with an icy stare with not even a chuckle in sight. Ignoring his absence of a good sense of humor, you continue on. “What better way to spend some free time after school than with my favorite freshman?”

“Do you even know other freshmen?” he accuses, raising his eyebrow.

“That’s beside the point,” you retort, waving your hand casually to move on from the topic. That must have been good enough of an answer to Jungkook, because he doesn’t argue about it.

“Alright then,” he speaks up, tossing his half-empty bottle to the side and gesturing to the empty spot on the mat in front of you with a smile. “Your turn.”

Ah yes, this is so much better than dinner.

“Hey, you—whoa.” Soobin stops mid-greeting when she gets a good look at you walking into the dorm. You didn’t expect her to be back so soon, but then again, you didn’t expect to spend two hours at the gym—that’s two hours too many. “You look like you just went through hell.”

“Close,” you grumble, slinking towards your closet so you can get out of your workout clothes and into some pajamas. You’re going to jump into the shower as soon as possible and then probably order a pizza right after, because if there’s ever a time that you need one, it’s now.

“I hope it was worth missing out on the heaven that is curry rice,” Soobin jests with a chuckle, but the sentence makes you abruptly halt what you’re doing and turn around to shoot her a confused frown.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a shame you had plans already. I was hoping you would come eat with us, but Jin told me you were busy—and I can see that you definitely were.” She ends her speech with another light laugh, motioning to your post-workout, disheveled appearance, but you aren’t paying attention to that part of her sentence—it’s the information that came before that causes your mind to go completely blank.

What she’s telling you doesn’t make sense. You accepted Jungkook’s request to go to the gym after you read Seokjin’s text saying that he had his own plans, and last time you checked, there was no invitation being extended on his part.

“Right, I was busy,” you swiftly agree in order to avoid the disquiet that the truth will bring out, especially since Soobin is already starting to tilt her head in concern for your funny reaction. Technically, you were busy, so it’s not like you’re telling a complete lie. You’re not so sure that the same can be said for your supposed best friend.

Why would he tell Soobin you couldn’t join them without even checking with you first? First he bails out on a group taco trip, and now he’s purposely leaving you out of the equation. You’re having a hard time understanding the logic and justification behind what’s going on, but based on the hints you’ve gathered until now, you can at least figure out what’s it is that he’s doing.

Seokjin is avoiding you.

“Is Namjoon coming?”

Sitting at Seokjin’s desk, you mentally go down your list of friends who are joining you to get drinks tonight. Your best friend is sitting on the opposite side of the room in Yoongi’s chair, something you consider either a brave or dumb move.

“Nope. He has midterms next week.”

“That’s an awfully long time to avoid drinking.”

“Trust me, it’s in the best interest for all of us. Last time we decided to go for drinks before a big exam, he wouldn’t stop going on about the effects of alcohol on our brains and how we’re killing off all the neurons or whatever.”

“Sounds fun,” you grunt sarcastically.

“Very,” he says with equal sarcasm. “It’s always a great night when you get kicked out of a bar because your friend won’t stop drunkenly screaming ‘We’re all murderers!’ at the top of his lungs.”

“Don’t invite Namjoon—got it.”

Just then, the unthinkable happens—there’s an awkward pause.

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed one between you two in the past, probably because it never occurred before, but the following seconds of silence feels off. Maybe it’s just you and your restless thoughts refusing to leave you alone about your conversation with Soobin last week. You haven’t felt the need to mention it to Seokjin yet, because to be honest, you’re waiting for him to come clean and tell you what’s going on. So far, he’s been acting like his normal self, minus the occasional weird expressions you find him having when you’re around.

Not letting your thoughts wander any further, you blurt out the first thing that pops into your mind just to get past the tension. “What about Yoongi?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right?”

“Right, right. Hermit Min.” You nod knowingly and look off into the distance, trying to think of something else to follow that up. Thankfully, there’s no need to wring your brain, because Seokjin beats you to it.

“Did you invite Jungkook?”

“Oh, yeah. Let me check if he replied yet.” You fish out your phone from your pocket and wake the screen. Instantly, you feel so much more comfortable sitting in the quiet with the device in your hands—you have never felt more in tune with your Millennial roots.

Lo and behold, you see that you do indeed have a notification from him. When you unlock your phone to read the text, the chat opens up to the entirety of your screen being filled with rows of party emojis that range from flames to clinking beer mugs.

It’s such a wonder how you two became well-matched friends—a true mystery that might never be solved.

You snort at the message, half amused at the thought of him taking the time to rigorously type all of these out and half impressed at how he always manages to have so much energy. Honestly, you’re still in recovery mode after the makeshift training session he made you writhe through.

Never again.

“Yup, he’s coming. He seems pretty stoked about it,” you convey to Seokjin with a smile, pulling up the keyboard on your screen to reply with your own barrage of inappropriate emojis. You’re too busy clicking away at your phone, you don’t realize that Seokjin has gotten up from his seat until you hear the dorm room entry open.

“I’ll be back,” he announces austerely. You don’t even have time to ask him where he’s going before the door shuts behind him a little too hastily, leaving you to stare at the spot where he was just standing not a second ago.

You now sit alone in the motionless room, hearing Seokjin’s footsteps fade away into the distance until there’s nothing left for your ears to latch onto but your own breathing. It immediately makes you want to take back your thoughts from earlier.

This silence is far more unbearable.

The campus is bustling with activity today, and each section of the school seems to be coming alive for the current fair. Some clubs and businesses have set up their booths in different areas to both promote and recruit for their causes, whatever they may be.

You aren’t particularly keen on talking to strangers, especially ones who badger you to take their brochure or sign their petition when all you want to do is get to the other side of the courtyard so you can grab some grub to satiate the beast in your belly. There is a handful of people on the right side of the expanse beckoning for the attention of apathetic passersby, but one establishment’s method of advertisement catches your eye.

There’s an individual in a large mascot suit of a bunny rabbit dancing around and handing out flyers for a new café that has opened recently. You wonder for a split second if it’s the café that Seokjin and Soobin went to, but you decide not a second later that you aren’t going to care enough to check. Instead, you’re going to stare pitifully at the floppy, furry fellow and ponder about the poor sap who got roped into wearing that costume in this weather.

Being as smooth and casual as you can, you change the trajectory of the path you are walking so you don’t have to pretend to care enough to take a flyer, one that will most likely end up in the trash or stuffed in the back of your binder. You think you’re being clever with this maneuver, but for some reason, the space between you and the mascot doesn’t seem to shrink.

In fact, you think you see the bunny coming closer. Oh god, it’s actually coming toward you.

The costumed individual is literally skipping to you like you have a giant target on your back, and you swear that the giant, plastic eyes are honing in on you like you’re a helpless prey. It’s a terrifying sight in its own regard, but you’re not about to let some dude or dudette in a fat suit intimidate you.

As soon as the mascot stops next to you, the clumsy paw reaches out and shoves a flyer into your personal space. You stop in your tracks and stare down the rabbit in its dark, beady eyes before taking the paper from its hand.

“Thanks,” you sternly state with a nod.

You attempt to resume your saunter out of the promotional bazaar, but as soon as you take a step forward, the bunny sidesteps in front of you, blocking your way. You raise your eyebrow and step to the side again, giving it the benefit of the doubt that it maybe misread the direction you were going, but nope.

The stranger mirrors your movement and sidesteps so that the stupid suit is right in front of you again, gawking at you like nobody’s business. Taking a small step back and crossing your arms, you size up the mascot, wondering if you are really going to allow yourself to have some kind of Mexican standoff with the fluffy bastard.

“I took your damn flyer. What do you want—a carrot?”

You think you can hear a chortle emerge from the person within that barely escapes the confines of the costume.

“Relax, it’s just me.”

Jungkook. That’s his voice alright, even though the multiple layers of cotton and polyester. It’s just like him to be messing with you, too. You should have figured it out earlier.

“Wow, Jungkook,” you croon. “Finally decided to embrace your true nature, I see.”

“Shut up. I’m only doing this because they’re paying me.”

Ah, the wonderful things a college student will do for minimum wage.

“And how’s that working out for you?” you tease, the corner of your lip curving up into a smirk.

“I’m sweating in places I didn’t even know I could sweat,” he says, wiggling the tiniest bit in an itchy manner to showcase his discomfort.

“Yeah, I didn’t need to know that. Thanks.” Your face wrinkles in disgust, not wanting to hear any more of that. “How long do you need to keep this up?”

“Until all the flyers have been handed out.”

“Well then,” you start to say, trying to hide the shrewd smile that’s starting to make its way onto your face. “Better hop to it.”

You had no idea that the stationary face of an animal suit could look so done with your shit, but you can practically feel the waves of disappointment emanating from Jungkook through the bug-eyed bunny. Without another word, he turns around and purposely drags his feet as he returns to his post to continue doing his job.

Whatever. At least the coast is clear now.

You continue on your voyage to find food, but as you walk away, a conclusion pops into your mind; it’s so automatic, you don’t even give it a second thought about how it so easily was your first.

You’re sure Seokjin would have laughed at your joke.

“Can I ask you something?”

At the sentence, you spin around in your chair to give Soobin the undivided attention she deserves. The two of you have been studying at your respective desks for some time now, so you welcome the unwarranted break, no matter how short it may be. It feels like you haven’t really been talking much these days either, especially when taking into consideration that you two live together.

“Shoot.”

“What is Jin like?”

Your eyebrows crease at the unusual question, although you don’t know if you were expecting her to talk about any other topic given the recent circumstances.

“What do you mean? You’ve known him for more than two years. You two hang out all the time now.” You try your best not to sound upset, especially with the last part. You know she means well, but sometimes it’s hard to argue rationale with your emotional self.

“I know…and I know we’ve been spending more time together, but I feel like I don’t really know him, you know?” You nod your head diligently to the plethora of “know” missiles she chucked into one sentence to show that you do indeed know. “I just thought, who better than to ask his best friend?”

Soobin’s smile is sincere, albeit a bit shy for even bringing something like this up. You can tell she really is interested in Seokjin. It’s clearer than the ketchup stain that was on Namjoon’s shirt earlier today. You purse your lips in contemplation, but ultimately decide to help her with her curiosity.

“Where to start…” you think aloud, digging through the years of knowledge you have of your best friend. Soobin is looking at you with expectant eyes, so rather than wait, you begin listing off things about him in the order they come into your mind.

“First of all, he’s a very sore loser, but he’s an even worse winner, so unless you want him to hold that one table hockey win over your head for the rest of eternity, I suggest you never play games with him.” You undertake an annoyed look, and she stifles a laugh just as you were hoping. “Oh, I’m sure you know this one—he laughs way too much at his own jokes. But he does have a laugh that makes other people laugh, so he manages to get away with it.” This time, Soobin lets out the laugh she was holding back, and gives her input of “very true” to agree with your remark.

You go on to pick something that Soobin may not know about, just so you aren’t repeating knowledge she already possesses. “His favorite movie is The Matrix. It’s great and all, but it starts to get old when he makes you rewatch it with him a couple times a year even though there are a billion new movies out that he hasn’t seen yet,” you grumble. This is starting morph into some kind of roasting session for Seokjin, but you are on fire, so you’re going to roll with it.

“He also has the biggest appetite in the world, so always expect him to steal some of your food when he’s given the chance,” you continue, stating the obvious from experience chronicling back to even your first year of friendship. “The secret to repelling him is to know what kind of food he dislikes and ordering that when you can. That’s why I always get extra pepperoni on my pizza, because he absolutely hates it.” You smile deviously for a second, but then your mind turns an unexpected corner. “I guess there is an upside to him eating so much though. He likes to make bets and tell you that you owe him food and whatnot, but when you go out to eat, he ends up paying for it most of the time. I still don’t know why he does that.”

Your lips tug down into a confused frown at the thought. Thinking back to a specific example, even after your arcade adventure during your first excursion around Seoul, Seokjin went ahead to pay for lunch even though he had joked about how it was your turn to take care of the bill that day.

“Well, I guess I do know why. Seokjin’s a big softie, and he always has been. He’ll pay for your food, walk you home, give you stupid stuffed animals as gifts for no reason, and all while acting like it’s just a standard thing for anyone to do—that’s just how he is. He can act childish sometimes but when it really comes down to it…he’ll always take care of you.”

The last part almost gets stuck in your throat, but you successfully finish the sentence as a wave of realization washes over you like you’re being doused with an ice bucket.

You miss him.

Is it even possible to miss someone who is so close to you almost every day?

Your mind wanders to an instance from the beginning of the week, feeling the need to put you through that embarrassing moment yet again. You were sitting on one of the benches outside of the library during the afternoon, peacefully consuming your sandwich before your next class began, but then you heard it.

Metallic ringing.

Your heart leapt more than you are willing to admit, but when your head shot up to peer towards the person exiting the front doors of the library, you saw that it was a stranger whom you had never seen before, donning his dangling ring of keys on his belt loop. In a similar fashion, your heart dropped right back down with such force, you almost felt the thud of chagrin resonating through your chest.

Apparently, it is very possible to miss someone who is only a walking-distance away, because even though he may be physically close, you feel like you haven’t seen him—the real him—in a long time.

A forlorn expression has made its way onto your face, one that you don’t realize you’re donning until you perceive the prolonged hush that befell the room as a result of the sudden break in your speech. You’ve been staring at a blank spot on the floor for who knows how long, because when your eyes snap up to land on your roommate, she’s watching you with a gentle gaze—a knowing gaze.

“Ahem,” you make a sound somewhere in between a cough and clearing your throat, unable to think of a better way to move past the abrupt ending you had. “I think you get the gist.”

A pensive smile graces Soobin’s lips as if she got the answer she was looking for.

“Yeah, I do.”

After the spontaneous discourse on Seokjin’s character, you put the moment out of your mind for the sake of focusing on your studies, but while the conversation has found its end, the effects of it are only beginning to bloom.

“Here you go!” you cheerily exclaim as you enter your dorm one evening. Soobin perks up from her position on the bed at the sight of the paper bag in your hands.

“Yay! You’re the best.” She pushes her textbook off of her lap and reaches out her arms to accept the take-out order of churros she asked you to bring back.

Soobin decided to be a good student and spend her time studying, so you ended up going to the dessert shop with just Taehyung and Jungkook. Those two are quite the handful already, especially when Taehyung, flashing the world with his new dusty silver hair, dedicates the majority of the meeting trying to convince Jungkook to let the older boy dye his hair. It was an eventful session filled with bickering and near approval, but you still felt like something was missing.

“It sucks that you and Seokjin couldn’t make it. These are so much better fresh.”

You begin to cast off your belongings onto your bed to wind down from the long junket. The hint of disenchantment is probably apparent in your tone of voice no matter how much you try to hide it. You have no right to complain though—you just had amazing food and went to one of your favorite dessert shops after dinner.

“Oh, Jin didn’t go either?”

You hesitate, pausing in the middle of shedding your jacket to regard her with a curious peek. “Yeah…I thought he was with you?”

She vigorously shakes her head, her hands busily opening the paper bag in her lap. “Nope. My butt has been glued to this bed for the past five hours.”

“Huh,” you grunt, not knowing what reaction to give. You leave it at that though, because Soobin soon shifts her focus to savoring the churros in front of her.

Something must have happened on that day she asked you about Seokjin, because after taking off on your mild rant, Soobin stopped extending those solo invitations towards him to hang out. It’s like the past few months didn’t happen at all, like she just turned off the target locking system that her heart eyes had on your best friend for the longest time. After a few more weeks pass, you notice that she only meets with him now whenever you all have gatherings as a group.

You think this will mean that things are going to go back to the way they were with you and Seokjin, but you’re mistaken.

It’s not that Seokjin specifically told you he was with Soobin during your churro escapade, but you just assumed that was the case since it usually was whenever he mentioned having other plans. It’s worrying enough that he isn’t telling you what’s going on, but it’s even more so since he doesn’t have a reason to be blowing off your Taco Tuesdays anymore since Soobin isn’t stealing him away.

Wait a minute. What are you even saying? Seokjin isn’t being stolen away—you don’t own him.

While that is indeed true, it still doesn’t stop the fact that you feel protective over him. Like a mother lion defending her young cub. Or like Seokjin when you accidentally knock over a Mario figurine from his desk. Both ferociously loyal in making sure nothing goes amiss, and now you find yourself in the same category as them.

The only explanation for this phenomenon you are experiencing is habit, you suppose.

10 years together with a person will do that to you.

Emergency Gong Cha run.

The text comes as a surprise, but at the same time, it’s not. It feels like such a long period has gone by since the last time Seokjin was the initiator of the conversation, especially considering that the two of you have been preoccupied with schoolwork and have had less and less time to study together since none of your classes coincided.

You take a couple minutes to think over the message. You’re currently alone in your dorm room—Soobin is spending the evening at the library studying with some of her classmates—and as entertaining as it sounds to lock yourself up and drown in your assignment and the anguish that goes along with it, you think you’ll take up Seokjin’s offer.

Make it Baskin Robbins and you’ve got a deal.

You send your reply and wait for either denial or confirmation; thankfully, it’s the latter that comes right away.

Fine by me.

There’s no need for any more pleasantries. Once you deem yourself presentable to go out in public, you leave your room—and that asshole of a worksheet packet—and head to the nearest Baskin Robbins right outside the campus.

As you walk up to the front of the ice cream shop, you can already distinguish a familiar figure standing by the entrance. If the view of his stature and the impressive width of his shoulders isn’t enough of a clue—you blame Taehyung for planting that wretched Dorito into your mind—his platinum blond hair is surely a dead giveaway. Seokjin recently touched up his roots, another event you blame Taehyung for, so he still has the freshly-polished look about him.

Seokjin’s wingspan is hidden under a black leather jacket that is blending well into the darkening night, but as you get closer, you see that he is wearing a shirt that is doing the complete opposite of blending in.

Super Moschino.

The white graphic t-shirt is hard to miss with the quirky design of a soaring Raccoon Mario below the equally flagrant text. You feel a smile instantaneously appear on your face, but it’s not because of how ridiculous the scheme of the shirt is.

It’s the gift you got Seokjin for his birthday last year.

The satisfaction you felt when you first presented the article of clothing to him faintly returns as you remember the amount of enthusiasm he showed when receiving the gift. You also feel a peculiar comfort in knowing that he’s still putting it to good use. Not too long has even passed since that time, yet it feels like so much longer ago—so far away.

“What’s the occasion this time?”

Your speech causes Seokjin to glance up from his phone as you stop in front of him, and like a reflex, he slides the device into his jacket pocket as a respectful effort now that you’re here.

“Does there need to be an occasion for ice cream?”

“You have a point,” you agree, watching him open the door so that you both can go in and get what you’re here for—except, you have a feeling that it’s not the only reason you’re here.

Choosing an ice cream flavor isn’t difficult at all—what is difficult is turning away from the display to see that Seokjin is already paying for both of your orders without thinking twice about it. You never looked too much into it in the past, but ever since speaking with Soobin, the kind gesture seems harder for you to process. Something even more difficult than that is the battle of silence you find yourself in when you sit down with your triple scoop cup—go big or go home—in front of Seokjin at one of the vacant tables.

“So, what’s the real reason?” you feel the need to ask again, staring down your best friend across from you. He isn’t exhibiting the usual behavior of scarfing down his ice cream, and you know that it’s something to worry about when Kim Seokjin gives his frozen delight enough time to melt.

“Since when did we start needing a reason to hang out?” he mutters in a lower voice than normal, his eyes remaining on the cup of the creamy dessert he is now jabbing mercilessly with his spoon.

“Since you stopped wanting to.” The words come out of your mouth before you can halt yourself, and even hearing it out loud rather than inside your mind leaves a hollow ache in the pit of your chest.

“That’s not true.”

You wait for an explanation or something to continue his thoughts, but that’s all he says—and there’s that awkward silence again. It’s such a peculiar tension, as if both of you want to say something, but at the same time, you’re hoping and expecting the other to speak up first. You’re just stuck in this conversational limbo, stuffing your faces to busy your otherwise still mouths, not that you’re at all opposed to the second part.

Trying to find a distraction for your eyes as well, you take a look around to see if you can find anything interesting—you do, but it’s not necessarily a good thing.

There are two girls sitting a few tables to your right, and while they’re trying their best to hide their excited chattering, the staring is shamelessly blatant. Of course, they’re admiring the visuals of your best friend who still seems to be sitting in his seat, oblivious to the extra attention.

Did their mothers not teach them manners? Maybe they should take a picture—it’ll last much longer, especially since they don’t look like they’re going to grow the balls to approach Seokjin anytime soon. For a fraction of a second, one of the girls locks eyes with you, but the fleeting moment passes like it didn’t even happen, and the two of them continue gossiping like the tramps that they are. They better be glad that you’re not Medusa, although that certainly would have made a better story than the one of you silently brooding in your seat, mushing your ice cream into a disfigured blob with your spoon.

This shouldn’t bother you as much as it’s doing right now. Seokjin is definitely a handsome guy—anyone with eyes can tell you that much. He has often gotten double-takes while out in public, and you even remember laughing on the sidelines when girls came up to ask him for his number on good days. Never have you felt this annoyance towards the situation before, and you don’t know why you’re starting to do so now.

No, you do know. As foreign as the feeling is, you can comprehend exactly where the venom is coming from.

You just don’t want to admit it.

“Hey, since tomorrow’s Friday, do you want to—”

“No.”

Jungkook scowls at your answer, giving you a disgruntled look like you just kicked his puppy, not that he even has one. He has joined you for lunch today—a healthy serving of kimchi fried rice with a not-so-healthy blanket of melted cheese on top of it—so instead of your trusty bench, you two are seated across from each other at a small table at the campus cafeteria.

“You didn’t even hear what I had to say.”

“I don’t need to,” you say with an indifferent shrug. “I have plans tomorrow night.”

“Really? What are you doing?”

“Movie night at the dorm.” A smile appears on Jungkook’s face that disturbingly resembles that of a pervert as he wriggles his eyebrows at you. “What?” you blurt out in an attempt to get him to stop before people around you see that expression and run for the hills screaming.

“Netflix and chill?”

Your hand immediately shoots forward to reach in for the titty twister at that inappropriate comment. Unfortunately, your hand barely misses the chance to grab his stubby nub before he recoils back and blocks your attack with a hearty laugh.

“Okay, okay!” he exclaims through his snickers when you shift in preparation to go for his other side. At that wave of the white flag, you retreat with just a stern look—for now. “You were a lot nicer when I first met you.”

You nearly laugh at the irony of his words and how they remind you of the similar sentiment you had when Taehyung started giving you sass. Perhaps it’s just what happens when you become closer friends with someone: the savage beast is given the freedom to roam.

“That was before you tried to murder me at the gym earlier this year.” Death by burpees—what a way to go. Your muscles are aching just thinking about it. “But to answer your question, no. I’m just hanging out with Seokjin.”

To your relief, your regular movie nights with your best friend still carried on, except for the past couple of months, you two have been going to an actual theater instead of staying in like you always did. It was nice to watch everything on the big screen rather than the tiny laptop that Seokjin owns, but it just didn’t feel the same without the liberty to make thoughtless comments to each other that lead to random debates throughout the movie. Sure, you could probably do that in public too, but last time you checked, talking in a movie theater is still looked down upon.

Jungkook hums in response to your clarification, but the tone sounds more like a question than an answer.

“What now?”

“Nothing,” he quips oh-so-inconspicuously with a grin he’s obviously trying to hide. “I knew you two weren’t fighting.”

You furrow your eyebrows at something you would have never thought to hear. “Who said we were fighting?”

“Namjoon hyung,” he exposes right away. You can only hope for his sake that Jungkook’s not carelessly revealing some kind of secret discussion they had. “He put it in different terms, of course. He mentioned that you and Seokjin were both having your own internal battles or whatever—something about Nietzsche. I’m just paraphrasing here. I wasn’t really paying attention, but hey, turns out I didn’t need to!”

Staring blankly at Jungkook, you don’t know whether to criticize him for his short attention span or to commend him for even remembering the name of that philosopher Namjoon was no doubt talking about—you can hear him spitting out quotes in your mind like you were actually there.

While you do appreciate the faith Jungkook has in you and your friendship with Seokjin, the other side of the story is what bothers you. Internal battles? You don’t think you’ve had enough of those to really say it’s something you noticed about your behavior. Were you really having them? You decline to believe so.

Wait, isn’t that what you’re doing right now?

You can’t believe Namjoon read you that easily. At least you know that he’ll make a good psychiatrist in the future. Still, you didn’t even realize that things have changed so much that other people are taking note of your current situation. Maybe Namjoon is really just that good, or maybe Seokjin confided in him about something that led to him holding that opinion. The second option seems highly unlikely, though.

You can’t imagine what the problem would be. Why would he feel the need to do that? Are you missing something? Is there something wrong between you two that you don’t know about? There can’t possibly be…right?

“Okay, what’s going on?”

You lean forward to pause the movie that’s currently playing on Seokjin’s laptop before plopping back into your usual spot on the bed. You’re about a quarter of the way through Inception—it’s a recommendation from Yoongi, apparently—and by now, you two should have exchanged witty remarks or gone on a tangent about how confused you still are about the opening scene, but tonight, things are uncharacteristically quiet. Seokjin has been sitting in his spot next to you, almost not even moving as he stares at the screen like a mannequin.

It’s suffocating, not to mention unsettling.

“What do you mean?” he asks innocently, eyes still glued to the screen that is now just showing a frozen frame of Leonardo DiCaprio’s mid-blink face. You, on the other hand, shift your position to turn and get a better look at him without having to continuously crane your head.

“You’re acting really weird lately.”

“No, I’m not,” he retorts in a childish manner.

“Yes, you are,” you say in a similar fashion, negating to lose this silly game.

“How would you know? You’re always off on your dates with Jungkook.”

You almost choke on your spit at the accusation. That is not the comeback you were expecting, and it takes you a moment to confirm that your ears aren’t deceiving you.

“Dates?” you sputter, the only thing stopping you from completely laughing off the claim being Seokjin’s calm and somber countenance. You know you threw that word out as a joke with him last time, but he seems wholly serious with the way he’s using it as retaliation. “That’s why you’ve been acting this way?” He doesn’t answer, so you just assume that you’re correct. “The kid’s nice and all, but please. I feel like I’m babysitting him half the time and making sure he doesn’t stay out too late and spend all his money at a PC room like before.”

You wait for a reaction to your explanation, but Seokjin doesn’t even flinch.

A good second goes by as you think about if you’re willing and petty enough to open the can of worms that Seokjin so kindly placed in front of you, but of course the answer is going to be hell yes. You’ve just about had it with these past few months of feeling like your best friend is slipping away from you, so if you have a chance of reeling him back in to sort things out, you’re going to take it, even if it means hooking him where the sun don’t shine.

“If anything, you’re the one avoiding me these days, like all those times you went off on your own ‘dates’ with Soobin,” you make sure to put an emphasis on that vile noun, hoping that he realizes just how ridiculous it sounds. “And you’re upset that I’m spending too much time with Jungkook?”

There’s no answer.

At this point, you can feel your insides start to simmer, as if everything you wanted to say is threatening to spill out. You hate that you’re getting worked up, but you’re not about to take this lying down when Seokjin clearly feels that you two have a problem. He voiced his woes, and now you will too.

“You think I don’t notice when your mood suddenly drops when I’m around? Or how you’d rather do anything else you can think of, including lying, than come to group gatherings when I’m involved? You don’t tell me anything anymore and I feel like—” You stop yourself in that moment, because you realize that this bubbling within you isn’t anger but something far more dangerous. Seokjin remains ever soundless, but his expression is wavering in a way that reassures you your best friend has not been replaced by a robot, contrary to your opinion. Taking in a shaky breath, you steel yourself to continue on with the same fervor, because you refuse to weaken your argument with tears. “Was it something I did? Because if I did something wrong, you need to let me know. I’m not a goddamn mind reader and—”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as you’re cut off by Seokjin in the middle of your makeshift rant. All the heat that was building up within you dissipates in an instant, and you’re left on the opposite side of the spectrum, completely frozen in place. This is the second time in the last five minutes where you feel like your ears are tricking you.

“What?” You manage to sputter out through your confusion and shock, mentally slapping yourself for the Neanderthal-like response even though you’re sober.

“I said,” Seokjin starts again, a look of determination washing over him as he takes a moment to inhale before turning to look you straight in the eyes—no more avoidance. “I’m in love with you.”

The second time is more resounding than the first, especially without the hesitant “I think” at the beginning of the sentence. You, on the other hand, think you feel your heart that leapt up earlier drop with a devastating crash, but when the pattern continues on this way, you realize that it’s your hammering heartbeat that’s causing such a ruckus throughout your entire body. You can feel your face begin to flush, and the reason might be because you’re pretty sure you stopped breathing.

Your first instinct is to make a joke, to let humor take the wheel because you’re not confident that the next thing that will come out of your mouth will not make you sound like a pathetic fool. One look at Seokjin changes your mind though, because with the way that he’s staring at you with such a keen and hopeful gaze, you can see in him the boy you grew up with.

The boy you grew to love.

“You have a horrible way of showing it…” you grumble disapprovingly as loud as your voice allows you to. The truth is, you’re going through an internal struggle of not knowing whether you want to laugh or cry at the relief you feel at his confession.

At this, Seokjin remains motionless for a second, but as you watch him with a hopeful gaze of your own, it gives him the confidence he needs to make his next move. He leans forward, steadily closing the already insignificant gap between you two, and like a magnet, you’re drawn towards him as well. Just when you think you can’t get any closer, your lips finally meet. Your eyes flutter close at the tender touch, and the feelings of bliss swirl within you at the long-awaited, chaste kiss.

The moment feels all-too-brief before Seokjin pulls away, and when you open your eyes again, you see that he is still inches away from you, gazing deeply as if he just found the answer to a question he has been agonizingly withholding for longer than you can imagine.

“How about now?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as his breath tickles your lips in a way that ignites the residual tingling you feel from the contact. Your mouth only curls up into a smile that you can’t help but display, the expression spawning from pure elation that mirrors exactly how you are feeling.

“It’s a start.”

Seokjin’s mouth part the slightest to prepare for a response, but you quickly capture it with your own once again. You haven’t responded to his confession yet, per se, but judging by the way he’s smiling against your lips as you pull him closer to you with your hands running through his hair, you’re pretty sure he knows how you feel.

Like a ribbon unraveling, you feel a pressure release both around you and inside of you. It’s like something had a grasp on the essence of your very being this entire time, something you didn’t even realize you were holding in for so long.

The truth is, you were afraid.

You were afraid of the way your feelings for your best friend were developing, especially when he only seemed to be keen on pushing you away. There was no way you could have known the reason for his actions, so you hardened yourself and subdued those pesky emotions, crushing the flower within you to keep it from ever seeing the light of day.

But not anymore.

Now, you’re letting that flower bloom, releasing it from the painful grip you had seized it with. Your feelings finally have a chance to flourish and come to life in the most splendid way possible, and this newfound wonder is leading you to come to terms with a fact that you should have admitted long ago.

You love him, too.

Kim Seokjin.

The peanut butter to your jelly. The punchline to your setup. Your other half, because no matter how far you two wander, you always make it back together.

Your boyfriend.

“So, Mario and Luigi turned out to be Mario and Peach all this time.”

Namjoon’s quip is one of many that your friends have taken to throwing out every chance that they got. Ever since Seokjin and you broke the news of your relationship to the others, teasing the two of you about it has turned into their favorite pastime. You don’t mind all the extra attention it one bit—in fact, some of their jokes are pretty hilarious, if you do say so yourself. You’re honestly just glad that everything seems to have settled down, and there are no cold shoulders or awkward silences between the lot of you anymore.

“Yeah, but the question is, which one of you is Peach?”

Jungkook nearly gets chased down for that comment by none other than your amiable boyfriend, all while cackling like a lunatic who is far too proud of his own joke—you swear, Seokjin is really starting to rub off on the kid.

Still, out of all your friends’ ridiculous reactions to your updated relationship status, Yoongi’s has to be your favorite.

You didn’t even have to tell him upfront, really. You just stopped by the dorm the day after your memorable movie night, and Seokjin opened the door for you when you arrived. The two of you shared a kiss as a greeting, one that was a little too long to be called a peck, before he stepped over to the side to let you in.

It was in that moment that your view of the room was unobscured, and sitting at his desk was Yoongi. You knew he would be there, but you didn’t know why you felt so nervous when you saw him. His taciturn gaze locked with yours in an instant, leaving you feeling the sudden need to explain the romantic gesture you probably defiled his eyes with, but there was apparently no need. Yoongi’s expression persisted ever the same—you don’t remember a time it hasn’t—but in a turn of events, he was the first to speak up, the single word creating a larger impact than any “hey” or “bye” he had ever uttered to you.

“Finally.”

It’s a short while after Seokjin and you start dating when you are met with your first loss in the relationship: his blond hair.

It is time to say goodbye to the short-lived, bleached locks and go back to black once again. It’s not that the golden tone isn’t stunning, because it most certainly is, but Seokjin mentioned multiple times that the upkeep is just too much of a pain both in his wallet and his schedule—and also his scalp. He deems it too much work for something he admits was a drastic action, very nonchalantly adding that it was also done with the partial intent to garner your attention.

As much as that confession makes you appreciate the color change even more, in the end, it doesn’t matter whether he has black, blond, or even pink hair.

You’ll still love him the same.

There is one thing that manages stick with Seokjin though, and that’s his trusty keychain.

You grew extremely fond of the metallic clinking when you became friends, but you feel even more so now that you two are going steady. You can sense your heart swell whenever it graces your eardrums, and your anticipation crescendos along with the harmonious sound when it comes closer, holding the promise of your approaching boyfriend. When you’re with him, it essentially becomes the background music of your daily life, and you really couldn’t ask for a better one.

Only after you two graduate from the university and Seokjin gets a job for a company in the city does he finally stop carrying the Mario charm around. It’s probably for the best; it doesn’t make professional sense to attach it to his work bag, so naturally, it made a home in his new apartment’s bedroom closet along with his old backpacks and knickknacks, soon to be forgotten and collecting dust.

The world does feel a bit emptier without the ringing you have grown so accustomed to hearing. Anyone in their right mind would be glad that the constant noise is gone—your friends have filed their complaints over the years about the annoyance it brought them—but you actually miss it.

To you, that keychain represents the past, all the memories of your youth that have been cultivated into evoking heartwarming nostalgia. For some time, you can really sense that missing slice of your life, but after more thought, you realize something. While you do long to hear the bells that signal Seokjin’s nearing presence again, there is no need for you to know when he’s approaching anymore.

He never left you.

Kim Seokjin.

The Ron to your Hermione. The Ross to your Rachel. Your other half, because you can’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

Your husband.

It was no surprise to anyone when you two decided to live together after graduation, and it seemed like it was only a surprise to you when he proposed a few months after that—your friends, being in on Seokjin’s plan, were poised with congrats and slaps on the back, the second one you very much could have done without.

Your own belongings were stored inside the closet of your shared apartment right next to Seokjin’s things, at least the items that you knew you weren’t going to be looking for anytime soon. In the passing nine months, the stockpile became bigger as the vacant space became smaller, with more things being packed into the corners of your dwelling to make room for new objects and furniture.

And soon, a new life.

The journey wasn’t as smooth as you hoped it would be, but you knew that being a first-time parent was not an easy feat in the slightest, especially in those first few months of being thrown into those new shoes and landing face-first in the gravel.

You remember waking up in the middle of a particular night during the second month after the birth of your precious daughter. You were positive that the crying that tore you out of your slumber was just coming from the baby, but when you were conscious enough to comprehend what was going on, you discovered that Seokjin was sitting in the room with your baby in his arms, wailing almost comically in a way that competed with your daughter’s vocal outcries.

Needless to say, you took over so that he could get some rest.

It was fascinating and just a little scary how quickly the years flew by after that. Before you knew it, you looked around at your surroundings and found yourself living a completely changed life.

Gone were the days of drunkenly puking in front of beautiful strangers or getting up at the ungodly hours of the night to go eat boba and ice cream. No more radical hair-dyeing experiences or playing Mario Party until the sun came up. Past-you would have written this off as an extremely boring way to live, but then again, past-you also thought that six shots of tequila was a good idea as well. Nevertheless, while these habits of yours were unfortunate sacrifices indeed, they were necessary and more importantly, completely worth it.

Between your husband and your daughter, you wouldn’t trade your two bundles of joy for anything in the world.

Incidentally, there was still one aspect of your past that remained a tradition: movie nights. It was difficult to maintain for the longest time, since you two had to switch from watching movies to watching your kid for the majority of the nights, but you still made it work. You couldn’t find it in you to let it go, and you don’t think you’ll want to anytime soon, even as you make way for new customs that will soon be entering your life.

Just like today.

Lifting the thermal carafe above your ceramic mug, you carefully pour yourself some freshly-brewed coffee to start off the special morning. The kitchen is still and soundless other than the click of the pot as you place it back down in its heated holder, but it doesn’t stay that way for long.

It takes you by surprise, like you’re experiencing déjà vu, but the distinct sound you thought you would never hear again reaches your ears.

The bells of nostalgia.

Abandoning your cup on the counter, you step out into the living room to determine the source of this welcomed disturbance. You are not disappointed when you see your daughter waddling down and out of the hallway with the biggest grin on her face, the straps of her colorful, almost painfully vibrant backpack standing out against her gray knit sweater.

Your heart feels like it could burst from all the exuberant emotions that bombard your existence, and nothing else in the room matters anymore for all of your attention becomes fixated on her. She spots you as you walk up to her and takes it upon herself to waddle a little faster in order to reach you. When she does, she attempts to give you a great, big hug, but it doesn’t quite hit the mark she was planning—hey, at least your knees are able to enjoy the hug.

“Ready for school?” you ask cheerfully when she releases your legs. Kneeling down to get on eye-level with her, you watch her excitedly nod her head in confirmation before making a second attempt at the hug by throwing her arms around your neck. You respond in the only way you see fit by peppering the side of her face with affectionate kisses. A flourish of giggles erupts as she pulls back, obviously being overpowered by your smooching prowess.

God, you’re glad no one can see you right now and the puddle that you’ve been melted into. You probably look like a doofus, because you definitely feel like your smile is stretching way farther than humanly possible, right up to the tips of your ears.

“Did you make sure you have everything?” You stand back up to gain your composure, and you notice her socks in all its red and yellow glory, flaunting the cartoon design of Iron Man’s face on the fabric—no doubt a gift from Jungkook. “Oh, don’t forget your shoes!” you chime in a singsong manner.

At that, your daughter spins around gleefully, and it’s in that moment that your eyes land on the very familiar metal charm dangling from her backpack. In an instant, she’s zipping out of the room towards the shoe shelf by the front entrance to retrieve her footwear like you mentioned. Her entire bag goes crazy with shuffling and clinking as she barely dodges Seokjin who is making an emergence from the same hallway that she came from.

“Whoa there!” Seokjin laughs, his eyes following the back of your prancing daughter for a second before he sets his gaze on you. He’s wearing the white dress shirt he usually does for work, and his dark hair is styled neatly in a way that really makes you appreciate just how mature he has become.

“You still have that Mario keychain?” you instantly question when the thought of maturity enters your mind. Your lip quirks up in curiosity at your run-in with the blast from the past attached to your child’s backpack.

“Of course. I always have it,” he answers matter-of-factly, a proud grin on his face.

“But why? It’s so old now.”

Sure, Super Mario is a timeless franchise, but he could have very well picked from the countless new trinkets and toys your daughter received as gifts—it’s one of the perks of having friends with the same mental age as your five-year-old, you suppose.

Walking up to stand in front of you, Seokjin curls his arms around your waist to pull you close. You comply without a drop of reluctance, your own arms sliding up to curl over his shoulders.

“Because I’m thankful for it. It’s important to me.” You shoot him a confused look, wondering how a dime-a-dozen keychain could possibly hold that much significance. As if reading your mind, he goes on to explain his reasoning. “I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have it when I was younger. It’s what brought you into my life.” Seokjin’s features soften along with his voice, and you feel the weight of his words resonate through you as you stare into his heartfelt gaze. “Something as lucky as that deserves to be handed down, don’t you think? Who knows, maybe it’ll work for her like it worked for me.”

It takes you a moment to process the depth of that revelation. So that’s why he has been holding onto it all this time? Not because of a childish preference for the charm that you always assumed it was but because of sentimental value? No matter how many years passed or how many bags he cycled through, he kept the keychain because of its connection to you.

Leaning forward into Seokjin’s arms, you plant a short but sweet kiss on his lips, savoring the blossoming warmth the contact conjures from your heart before pulling away to murmur the only words you feel are apt to express your utter contentment.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies without missing a beat.

And you’ve never felt happier.

Suddenly, you hear the flurry of clinks return as your daughter emerges from her adventure to find her sneakers. Admirably, they are on both of her feet, each shoe managing to dress its matching foot, and even the Velcro straps are secured beautifully in place.

They grow up so fast.

“Let’s go, princess.” Seokjin calls out to her in adoration, and she speedily races to his side to take his much larger hand in hers. She proceeds to eagerly pull on her father’s hand, turning him around to lead him towards the front door, an action he can only succumb to with an outflow of laughter.

In all of your experiences with first days of school throughout your life, you can wholeheartedly say that your child’s first day beats all of the others in terms of how nervous you feel. You’d be lying if you said that you were completely cool and collected about this. It’s the first time she’ll really be apart from you after years of staying strictly by your side, and while she seems ready to take on the day, you’re not sure if you are.

The worries begin to swirl around in your mind, but before they can develop any further, the maudlin melody of the old keychain is brought to your attention again. The sound lulls you in, and your eyes lock onto the shapes of the trinket hanging from the backpack before taking a step back to fully appreciate the image you see before you.

Seokjin’s shoulders are impressive as they have always been, especially from the clear view of his back you have, and his stature dwarfs the child trotting beside him, her uniquely colorful backpack only being outshined by the dancing and singing keychain attached to it.

Hearing this ringing now that you’re really taking in this picture, you notice that it sounds different. It no longer represents the past memories and years you have lived. No, there’s a new tone with the way it’s chiming, and that’s because it now holds your hope for the future. Your legacy until now has been engraved in that item, but for your daughter, her journey is only beginning.

That was the intention Seokjin had when passing on the lucky charm, much like a torch or a family heirloom. It is no longer a token of nostalgia, but a promise to create even more memories, not just for you and him, but for your daughter as well. This sentiment replaces all the worry that previously clouded your mind, wiping the slate clean, and you’re left with a growing state of bliss and the realization of another promise that things will be alright—you have your loved ones by your side, after all.

And as long as you’re together, you can smile.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

No Spoilers from the Spoiler Site - Good Thing for TD

Good morning lovely followers! I apologize for not being very active these past few days. It’s just been a rather busy week. But there’s been an absolute flurry of activity in my FB group about the spoilers (or lack thereof) for the MSF. This is REALLY good for TD, guys.

***I will be mentioning Carl spoilers here. I think most people are familiar with them now, but here’s fair warning that I’ll be discussing them.*** So let me start at the beginning. Back after the S7 finale (when we were all super-disappointed that Beth didn’t show up) @thegloriouscollectorlady and I were talking about screeners. Let’s start there, in case anyone doesn’t know how screeners work. (I didn’t either until it was explained to me a while back.)

Screeners are a pre-screening of the episode that is sent out to various news outlets. So sites like Geek.com, TVGuide.com, ComicBook.com, to name a few. They aren’t supposed to leak what’s in the episode (I’m sure they sign a contract to that effect) but they’re allowed to see the episode roughly a week before it airs so they can get their articles together and have them ready to post as soon as the episode airs. AMC gives these media outlet this advantage because it’s good publicity for the show and generates buzz and discussion when the articles get posted. As soon as the episode is over, people are instantly online looking for articles.

We’re reasonably certain that the big spoiler site that shall remain nameless (;D) gets their information from someone who receives a screener. That’s why, for the past few seasons especially, a few days before the episode airs, they get a play-by-play of what happens in the episode. Their source watches the screener, and then sends them information. I personally don’t think the spoiler site sees the actual script or the actual episode. I think their source just sends them a detailed summary. That’s why they often get details wrong. Small things can get misconstrued if the summary is vague.

Okay, hope that’s all clear. Let me know if it isn’t. So back when S7 ended, remember that in the TTD afterward, Gimple said the thing about the first four episodes being “brain melting,” which they kind of weren’t. So when we heard that, and coupled with the sunset at the end of Sasha’s arc, we thought/hoped Beth would show up after episode 4. So I made the comment to @thegloriouscollectorlady “Wouldn’t it be great if they didn’t send out screeners for those first four episodes?”

See, we’ve often discussed tptb trying to hide Beth’s return and that maybe they simply wouldn’t send out the screeners so no one would know.

Now, obviously we were wrong about that. They DID send out screeners (the spoiler site had spoilers) for episodes 1-4 and Beth  didn’t return.

But during the S8 preview show, Gimple said after the first four episodes, things would get “acoustic.” We didn’t know what that meant, but I’m gonna argue that things DID get acoustic. There’s been a TON of music in these past episodes.

So between that, where we are in the narrative (especially with Daryl), and this “shocking moment” they teased so much last week, most of us were very hopeful that we’d see Beth in the MSF.

So here’s a little convo about screeners we had in the group last Sunday:

Once again, we wondered if tptb would try to hide it. And guess what?

Low and behold, on Tuesday, we got confirmation that screeners were NOT sent out for this episode. Geek.com, at least, did not get a screener, which means no one did. And that means the spoiler site won’t have spoilers. That set off a flurry of discussion in our group. Check out this thread, which is just one of several on which we’re discussing this issue. 

Yeah, 81 comments, lol. I guess you can say we’re all pretty excited. And again, this is not by far the only thread we’re discussing this on.

I knew I wanted to post about this two days ago (on Tuesday), but I also wanted to wait because there was some speculation that, even if the spoiler site didn’t know what the “shocking moment” was, they might post some of the spoilers they had. And just because tptb are trying to hide it, doesn’t mean things won’t get leaked. It’s happened before.

So I wanted to wait and see what happened. Yesterday, the spoiler site posted something saying that after careful consideration, they’d decided not to post any spoilers at all for the MSF. They also say it’s not a legal thing and they’ll explain more after the MSF airs.

Guys, this is HUGE! And very good for TD. Mostly because it’s never happened before. We’ve also discussed (and I know I recently answered an Ask about it) whether or not the spoiler site would post spoilers about Beth’s return, even if they had them. The reason we wonder about that is because the site has been so horrible and petty to TD and Beth’s fans. They didn’t like her at all and have always been nasty to us. So we wondered if they would post her return if they knew or try to hide it. We still don’t have an answer to that because we don’t know if they know.

See, them being so secretive boils down to one of two things: 1) either they really have no clue because the screeners didn’t go out. 2) they got the information somehow and know she’s returning, but don’t want to post it because they know they were wrong and they’re gonna get backlash over it.

Those are really the only two scenarios that make sense. If you’ve been on the spoiler site forum or paid attention to what others are saying, they’re trying hard to push the idea that the “shocking moment” will be Carl’s death, which everyone’s been discussing for weeks. I’m here to tell you that it makes no sense for that to be the case.

As I said in my last, TTD post, they’ve never hyped a death this way. They always stay entirely away from deaths so the audience (those that don’t follow spoilers anyway) are surprised. But the other thing is that they usually send out screeners for deaths as well. We had spoilers for Sasha’s death, Denise, Glenn/Abraham, BETH. Just because someone is dying, they usually don’t cover to the point of not sending out screeners. This has to be something else, and bigger than that, for them to withhold the screener.

Plus, even the spoiler site themselves said they don’t think the big death is happening until episode 9. If that’s the case, it can’t have anything to do with the “shocking moment” in episode 8. 

Now they’re saying they think that character will be injured in ep 8 but not die until ep 9. 

Again, based on precedent, that makes no sense at all. They’ve never had a major character get injured in one episode and die in another. This is where half our survival evidence about Beth comes from. If the character is badly injured, but doesn’t die right away (think Carl’s various GSWs, Hershel’s leg, Tara’s head injury in 5b) they always survive. When we have a major character death it always happens all at once in the same episode.

The only possible exception is being bitten. Two characters, Jim in S1 and Bob in S5, were bitten in one episode but didn’t die in that episode. To be fair, neither of them were top-billed characters, and neither was as big a deal as Carl is. But could Carl be bitten? Sure. I know there’s been some speculation about him having been bitten when he was with Siddiq. For the record, I don’t think he was. It’s night time in the promo for episode 8, which means it’s been hours since he fought walkers with Siddiq, and I think he would at least be showing signs of a fever by then. So I personally doubt he’s been bitten.

But let’s say for argument’s sake that he was. So what would be the shocking moment in episode 8 then? To tell us he was bitten? Sure everyone would be surprised and sad, but it’s really not shocking enough to withhold the screener. Especially if he doesn’t actually die in this episode. And even if we do see him be bitten or seriously injured in episode 8…again, why withhold the screener? If Sasha’s death wasn’t shocking enough to keep it out of spoiler sites’ hands, why would an injury WITHOUT a death, be shocking enough? See what I mean?

Guys, I could go on and on and on. I won’t, but this is what my group’s been doing for the past few days: running through every possible argument and scenario to try and figure out what else it could be (besides Beth) and if we shouldn’t be getting our hopes up. Nothing else makes sense. We’re 99% sure the shocking moment isn’t a death, and honestly, what else would be so shocking to the audience? What else would tptb try so hard to hide? We really think we’re going to see her.

So one more thing about the spoiler site and then I’ll shut up. There was one comment made by one of the admins that make us think they know SOMEthing. We don’t have confirmation that they do. Maybe they really know nothing. Either way is good for us.

The comment was that, after the MSF, a lot of people were going to be “eating crow.” For those who don’t know, that’s an English expression that means “humiliation by admitting having been proven wrong after taking a strong position.” Eating “humble pie” is a similar expression.

So again, they’ve been so nasty to TD, we’re thinking maybe, somehow, they do know that Beth is returning, and this “eating crow” refers to them having been so wrong and us being right about her return. Nothing else makes much sense. Even if the Carl spoilers are wrong, no one’s known about them long, and even the spoiler site has always said their unconfirmed, and to take it with a grain of salt. So there’s no reason to shame anyone because no one’s had a super-strong opinion about it. Just conjecture. So why would anyone need to eat crow over that?

So we’ve discussed what they may post after the episode, per their comment that they’ll explain later. I seriously doubt TD will get much of an apology, but you gotta understand how weird it is for them not to post ANYTHING. And that also makes me think they know something.

Even if they didn’t get the screener and don’t have confirmation of what happens, their usual MO is to post what they THINK will happen and just put a disclaimer on it saying it hasn’t been confirmed and so to understand they might be wrong. Why not just do that if they don’t know? Sounds like maybe they DO know, and just don’t want to say.

And the ONLY thing we can’t think of that would make them do that is Beth’s return. People (non-TDers) have suggested all kinds of things, such as Chandler contacting them and asking them not to confirm certain things. (Again, these people are assuming Carl is dying, which I’m no longer totally convinced of.) But the spoiler site has always said that if they have spoilers, they’re posting them. End of story. Like most ruthless reporters, they don’t have much respect or sensitivity for the human element. They just want to be the first ones to report the big story. When John Bernecker died (he was the stunt guy who took a fall during the filming season and tragically passed away) they reported that with as much callousness as anything else. They wouldn’t not report something just to “be nice.”

On the other hand, we know they have an ego and they might not report something if it was going to threaten their reputation. And let me just say my intention here isn’t to slam or insult the spoiler site. I’m just saying that based on past behavior, this is a VERY odd decision on their part.

And of course I’ve gotten questions about whether it could be something else: the return of Heath or Sherry, something with FG or Eugene. Again, I just don’t think so. I know they’ve hyped things before and we’ve been disappointed, but they’ve never withheld the screener before. While any of those things would be big deals, would they be bigger than a major character death? Bigger than Morales’ return? Bigger than a new romance? (We totally got spoilers for Richonne, Ressie, and Carnid’s first kiss.) 

Do we have confirmation that Beth will return? No, we don’t, but we have more hope than we’ve had in the past three years. I would also like to take this moment to point one thing out. One of the first theories TD-ers pinpointed about Beth is that the rule of 3s is used around her. Everything happens in 3s. 8x08 will be exactly 3 seasons from when she was shot. 3 seasons from when we last saw her for real. (We saw her in 5x09 as Ty’s hallucination, but I’m discounting that for now because it wasn’t her in the flesh.) So 8x08 just makes a lot of sense.

So I’ll shut up now, but I encourage you to read what’s being said and just always ask, would that merit not sending out screeners? Because we can really only think of one thing that would.

Everyone have a great Friday! Can’t wait for Sunday. ;D

[doegred-main]

If you could possess one single object that appears in the Silm/hobbit/Lotr/HoME, which one would it be? Here I am torn: on one hand I’d love to have the Palantìr to comunicate with others and see ahead during travels. On the other hand: the Silmaril would be an awesome energy source and scientific conundrum. Probably I would “settle” for a Silmaril. There are a lot of things you can do with a black body, even though I fear I would not like the “moral radar” placed on it by Varda at all.

As a mortal man arriving in Beleriand during the first age, would you have trusted the Eldar? I would have been incredibly fascinated and probably I would have given an arm and a leg to learn their technology, still I would have been very wary of their cultural perspective. At least of the one of the “very good guys”. I would have guessed that all the Noldor and Northern Sindar, were serious about defeating Melkor, but even in the best case scenario I would have seen a lot of possible problems arising from the afterward of a victory. A well respected vassal is still a vassal, especially when it is substituting its culture for the one of a more powerful people that claims to have seen and know more than any of my people could ever experience in their lifetime. I would have probably advocated for lending help to the Noldor in the war against Morgoth, quite vehemently once seen the situation in Beleriand and the Amlach scheme, but beyond that I would have guessed that even a victory would have meant an uncertain future for my kind and kept rather wary of them all. 

You are on a long errand and eventually find yourself in Lothlorien. Before you leave, you are given to choose between Miruvor or lambas bread. Which one do you take with you? Miruvoir, naturally! Even uncooked root vegetables taste better if you wash them out with great booze! 

Any opinion about the “petty-dwarves” and the way they were treated in Beleriand? The Petty Dwarves are a people that I feel a lot of sympathy for; they are the lowest of the low, the ones anyone feels entitled and justified to mistreat, thus I cannot help being rather fond of them despite their glaringly obvious flaws. I think that their position shows the ugly side of Khazad society. The dwarves are secretive and clannish, which leaves their exiled individuals (wether they are scapegoats or have definitely earned their punishment) without any help in the outside world, especially a feudal world like Beleriand. I think the history of the petty dwarves is very poignant because it is the story of the oppressed that aren’t “perfect” and “blameless”, it is the history of “guilty” people punished horribly and persecuted, left to be used by anyone as the convenient “victim”, to the point that the punishment itself ended up making them much worse than they were. Which only makes the petty dwarves more realistic and all the more worthy of a sympathy they will never be given in a world of moral absolutes like Tolkien’s. To feel for the “innocent lamb” is not praise-worthy, it is normal, what gives the measure of a person is how much they can see the injustice perpetrated on the ones who have committed their fair share of crimes. Sadly in Beleriand there is almost none that quite rises to this standard, except for (and even here: only up to a point) Tùrin.

What did you like the most the first time you read The Silmarillion? Wow.. it was so long ago! I was 15. I think the thing that I liked the most was the enormous scope of the story, the fact it was a history book of an inexistent world. I was positively overwhelmed by the multitude of people and histories, the glimpses of different cultures and their complexities. 

Do you think a Sauron-Smaug partnership could have been possible if the dragon hadn’t been destroyed? Any opinion about it? Possible? Yes, but depending on its goal and its scope. I do not doubt Sauron would have tried to make use of the dragon, after all Sauron is SMART, to the point that the only way he is beaten is by concocting a plan that relies on “providence” rather than tactics. Stiil, exactly because Sauron is smart, I do not think he would have honoured his agreement with the dragon to the bitter end if he had thought it too “limiting” of his own power; Sauron is not keen on loosing control. As for Smaug he would have undoubtedly seen the possible advantages in allying with Sauron, but he might also have seen the possible drawbacks thus he might not have thrown all of his lot with the Maia. I think an alliance could have been indeed possible, but its scope might have been limited, both because Smaug is an indolent slob, and because Sauron would not have liked to promise too much to the dragon knowing of its greed. Likely the dragon would have been “used” to completely vanquish the Khazad and people of Dale, but not much more. As a trump card Sauron already had the Witch King, who was of comparable power and completely under his control: a much safer bet.

Should we talk about the portrayal we get of Finrod in the debate with Andreth? Absolutely! Everything should be talked about XD. All jokes aside, I think that analysing his positions in the Antrabeth is paramount to understanding Finrod. I do not like them at all, but it is exactly because of them and a few other details that make his character definitely much more gray than the author probably intended, that I find Finrod interesting. To be completely frank I find the idea of ”St. Finrod the wandering hippie” absolutely boring and a disservice to a character that canonically has a side that doesn’t appear, in my opinion, as flatly cardboard-cut likeable or accepting of others as it might seem at first glance. Tolkien to me is all more fascinating and engaging because I do not share many his values on a fundamental level and seeing them exposed and argued for helped me grow as a person. I considered the position he presented, thought about it, and, no matter the conclusions I reached, I think my inner life was richer for it.

Can you share one headcanon about Celebrimbor and Narvi’s friendship? I ship them with the brightness of a thousand burning swan-ships. Despite really liking each other they are more often than not challenging each other’s abilities and theories. Even as they worked together they were adamant about having each their own lab and started their own private “underground war” by snaeking in each other’s work space and leaving “corrections” on each other’s notes. Which quickly escalated in the forged being used to craft new and better locks to protect their doors. The fight ended when Narvi found Tyelpe knelling on the floor in front of his new lock, desperately trying to pick it. Sadly his triumph was short-lived as he realised that even his own key was NOT getting the door open. Two hours passed like that: with Tyelpe insisting that his colleague had just made a lock impossible to open, and Narvi replying that Tyelpe had just “messed it up with his butcher-like attempts at finesse”, until they both capitulated and ended up getting roaring drunk together and taking turns axing down the door with Narvi’s ceremonial weapon after a solemn promise of never invading each other’s work-space anymore. Narvi gifted Tyelpe with the lock they recovered from the splinters as a “sign of peace” and to “prove the elf that you are never too old to be wrong”. Years and years after Narvi’s death, in the time when Annatar was becoming more and more shady even in his own eyes,  Tyelpe was playing around with the lock out of sheer nervousness and ended up dropping it. The impact dislodged a tiny piece of metal that had broken from Tyelpe’s lock-pick, unbeknownst to the elf. The lock opened immediately. Narvi adopted his young, brightest, dwarven apprentice and Tyelpe was adamant about “getting to be dad n.2 know the kid and be involved in his life”

Any thought about the idea of Maedhros wearing the dragon-helm? Why giving it to Fingon if it had already been given to him? Isn’t it rude? Is it even a good gift-idea? Here I’m biased.. XD Let’s say I do not think it was rude, but a sign of both friendship and a reminder to the Western Noldor that Himring had very important allies that knew how to make fire-proof armours, which the westerners had not and sorely needed. Smarmy gift, not exactly rude...

According to you, in The Silmarillion, which action is the most meaningful(/heartbreaking) token of loyalty? Bòr’s children and their people fighting to the end by the side of the Fëanorians.

If you could be fluent in one single tongue of Arda, and be clueless about all other languages, which one would you choose? (pick the age you prefer) I am already very much bothered by the fact I only know three languages and a half rather than “all of them”... Knowing only one would probably drive me to insanity. Yet: fair is fair,  I have to answer. I would like to be a Noldorin Quenya speaker that got accidentally shut in the scientific section of Formenos’ library. Imagine all the books, project, technology, and ideas that could be found there!

tagged by @atariince (thank you so much! <3) 

My stupid questions:

What do you think of Hurin and Huor’s last stand? 

Thoughts on Maeglin going missing for so long and then being just allowed in  with no questions asked?

Considering the events that ended WWII, Tolkien’s words in his preface to LOTR, and his “scientists on the slippery slope”:  do you feel any sympathy for Saruman?

If you were an Hobbit of the Shire would you have voted for Sam as a major? Why?

If you could visit one and only one location in Beleriand which one would it be? Explain

How much do you think Gondolin’s nostalgia for Tirion influenced the depiction of the Exiles as eager for a chance to go back to Valinor?

If you could either be Galadriel or Elrond which one would you choose? Would Celebrian like that? 

What do you think would have happened if “the Noldor had won the day” in the Nirnaeth?

First thought of Thorondor as Maedhros and then Fingolfin bled all over his plumage. 

Your favourite Caranthir’s moment, can either be your head-canon or canon.

Would you like to have the Gaffer Gamgee as your father in law? Why? 

tagging: @feanoriel, @eldochflamma, @hwarang, , @morgholoth @gultgull and whoever is interested and has not been tagged yet! 

[kingkpop]

Cheated on me.

(this boy smiles too much fuck he cute.)

Lee Taeil x Reader 

Gender: Male x Female Genre: Angst, fluff. Warning: - Word count: 1.9k Anonymous asked:  Mafia au with Lee Taeil. He becomes a fluffy ball around her and deadly with his men. All of them respect her. (Can you include the rest as part of the gang?)

Sorry I changed it.

Letting out a deep sigh Taeil sunk back into the leather brown office chair. With his thumb and index finger, he began to rub the bridge of his nose hoping it would magically relief all the stress this day has bestowed upon him. Clients have come in and out his office, many not leaving without a couple of scratches, begging or demanding Taeil to do something about their oh so horrible situation. It wasn’t as if this was all new for him, he was used to the continuous nagging of his clients, but this last one really took a toll on his tolerance. A woman in her mid 40’s came into the office smelling of rich perfume and wearing a tight-fitting red dress. It was obvious the woman put some effort in her appearance when she came here, but Taeil didn’t find all those things attractive anymore. Not since Y/N. He preferred her in one of his black hoodies that stopped mid-thigh and the messiest of messiest bed hairs. Taeil had to suppress a chuckle as he thought about how Y/N looked right after she got out of bed, an image he would never get tired of seeing. “Excuse me, are you Lee Taeil?” The woman asked as she took a chair on the opposite side of the large desk. As she sat down she pulled her dress down showing even more of her silicone breasts, he was sure one more pull and they would fall out. One of his men nicknamed P.O let out a loud cough. Glancing over at the man Taeil could see the slight redness on P.O’s cheeks. Though P.O was part of his elite group consisting of 6 of Taeil’s best men, Taeil kept forgetting the man was still young and new to the life the mafia.

Looking back at the woman Taeil mustered up his fake smile. “What can I do for you, noonim?” The woman let out a laugh as she placed a hand against her face. “Oh please, call me Eungyeong! No need for honorifics, we practically look the same age!” The woman laughed louder whilst Taeil forced out a chuckle, he could clearly tell the woman was in her 40’s which either meant he looked like he was in his 40’s or that the woman was completely delusional. Probably the latter. “Alright, Eungyeong-ssi,” The woman smiled even brighter than before. “what is your business here? A woman like yourself isn’t often seen around these places.” “My husband sends me, you might know him. His name is Kim Kyuwook?” Taeil’s eyes widen. Kim Kyuwook was one of his prime clients, having a mafia for himself almost as big as the one of Taeil’s their paths have often crossed and even collaborated. What took Taeil by surprise was that Kim Kyuwook would always visit Taeil himself, and on the rare occasions he couldn’t he would make a call. “In fact, I do. Normally he visits me himself, what’s the occasion?” The female frowned a bit. “Well you see, my husband. He has been cheating behind my back. He has been for a while now, but I didn’t find out until recently. Due to our different schedules, it’s easy to be oblivious to such thing and even easier to cheat on your partner.” Taeil felt his heart sink a bit when the woman mentioned how easy it was to cheat and he couldn’t help but think how Y/N could possibly be with someone else now. They more often than not saw each other in the middle of the night and in the early morning. There was enough space there for Y/N to go behind his back and be in a much happier place. Shaking away the thoughts Taeil reminded himself Y/N would never, she always texted him and told him her whereabouts. She made sure to let him know how much he of her heart he has. “But still, I didn’t believe it at first. He always made me feel loved. He brought me flowers, cooked for me, he did everything he always did and even more. He never became distant so you can see why I doubted him cheating on me.” Taeil felt slight fear kicking in, Y/N was just like that. Was she actually. “What do you want me to do with this?” “I want you to kill the asshole and his bitch, make them feel the pain they made me feel.” The woman said through her teeth. “I’ll pay you more than you can imagine.” Taeil let out a deep sigh, he expected this but he hoped it wouldn’t become like this. “Listen Eungyeong-ssi, I can understand how frustrating this must be for you, but your husband is a very important person with a lot of value. I can’t kill him for such petty things as cheating. No matter how much the amount of money is.” The woman pouted. “But this isn’t something petty! I will pay you more than you can imagine!” “I don’t care about the money, I will not take such silly requests!” The woman huffed out, pulling her dress back up so less cleavage was showing and stood up. “How dare you say this is all out of pettiness and silliness, you know nothing about being cheated on. Just wait until you find out that whore girlfriend of yours is actually fucking someone behind your back!” Taeil shot up from his chair, his hand reaching for the woman as he held her by the throat. The sudden action made both the woman and P.O freeze up at the spot. “Don’t you dare talk about my girlfriend like that ever again.” Taeil hissed. Was it not for P.O who stepped in Taeil would’ve ended up killing the woman. The woman coughed loudly and without saying anything else she ran off leaving the two men behind. Taeil let out a deep sigh as he sunk back into the leather brown office chair. With his thumb and index finger, he began to rub the bridge. “Taeil, are you okay?” P.O asked. Taeil nodded as he pushed his glasses back in place “I am fine, can you get the others for me? I have a couple of things to discuss with everyone.” P.O nodded as he quickly walked out of the office giving Taeil enough time to ponder about his relationship with Y/N. He wasn’t the one to quickly feel insecure about himself, but now he was starting to question how he was living. He spent so much time working he barely had time for Y/N when was the last time they went on a proper date? Probably months ago, enough time for Y/N to find someone else to go on dates with. “Taeil?” Looking up with wide eyes Taeil saw his men looking at him expectantly. When did they get in? “Hmm, sorry?” One of his men Zico looked at his boss with furrowed brows. “Taeil are you okay, you look out of it.” “Uh, yeah…” “You’re clearly not,” Zico argued. Zico was very close with Taeil, in fact, he was the one who helped him start this whole organization but instead of taking the seat Zico gave the title to Taeil while Zico gave himself the leadership of the elite group of the mafia. “You should go home, be with Y/N. You might need it.” Taeil visibly tensed up at the name of his girlfriend. “Go Taeil.” Zico urged on. “Yeah, we can handle whatever there is!” Kyung said cheerfully. Taeil didn’t have much to say afterward and before he knew it he was back at his apartment. It was too safe to say Taeil was beyond nervous, which is weird since it was still early in the afternoon and Y/N wouldn’t be home till later tonight. Taking a deep sigh Taeil unlocked the door and to his surprise and panic, he heard a familiar laughter echoing through the apartment. Taeil refused to believe his ears, but he needed to be sure so he stayed at the door waiting for any sign of Y/N, and unfortunately, he heard the same laughter again, only this time he heard the faint voice of a man. Feeling panic rise Taeil quickly walked into the living room, his head moving from left to right trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. Once Y/N laughed again he pinpointed where the sound was coming from. The bedroom. Taeil was running to the bedroom, swinging the door open scaring Y/N who quickly stood up from her bed. It took a moment for her to register who had barged into the bedroom and was surprised when she knew. “Taeil?” Taeil simply ignored Y/N as he frantically looked around the place for what idiot decided to sleep with his girlfriend. Not seeing the man visibly in the bedroom he stormed towards the walking closet swinging the door open, he even opened the small cabinets (which is impossible for any human to fit in) hoping to find the asshole. “Taeil? Taeil what are you doing?” Y/N asked as she walked towards the frantic man. “Shut up! Where is he?!” Y/N frowned. “Where is who?” “You know damn well who, where is that fucker you’re cheating with?!” Y/N looked at Taeil quizzically, not saying a single word. She couldn’t believe what she was wearing. “Who-” “Don’t play dumb with me Y/N! I heard you laughing with some dude just now! So where is he?!” Y/N didn’t say anything as she stomped away from Taeil. The man just watched as she snatched her phone from the bed and walked towards Taeil with just as much anger as she began with. She furiously typed in her passcode and nearly pressed her phone in her boyfriend’s face. Taeil had to move back slightly to see what she was showing. With her other free hand Y/N tapped on her screen and suddenly the screen was filled with Taeil’s face, making cute and funny faces as he talked how much he loved her and how much he wanted to be with her right now. Only now Taeil recognized his own voice. “Oh…” “Yeah “Oh” “ Y/N scoffed “I can’t believe you thought I would cheat!” “I-I am so sorry Y/N.” “Taeil you know how much I love you, never in a million years would I cheat on you.” Taeil’s heart sank as he saw the sincerity in Y/N’s eyes, how did he ever accuse her? “I am sorry, Y/N. It’s just that the wife of Kim Kyuwook came by today telling he cheated on her and she just kept talking about it and suddenly I was thinking how much happier you would be with someone else and if there was a possibility you were happier with someone else behind my back, seeing that I barely have time for y-” Soft lips crashed against Taeil’s lips. As quick as it came as quick as it went. “You’re rambling Taeil.” Y/N whispered against his lips “sorry…” Y//N chuckled as she looked up at Taeil her eyes turning into crescents, but the flattered as she looked at him sternly. “Listen, I don’t care what that wife says, don’t let her ever make her doubt you, you are an amazing boyfriend and you are the only person I need. Do you really think I would cheat on you if we are going to get married?” One side of Taeil’s lips curved upwards as he quirked an eyebrow. “We are going to get married?” “Uh yeah, we fit each other perfectly and I love you so much, so it’s going to happen.” Taeil let out a chuckle as he leaned in forward for another kiss, but got stopped when Y/N covered his puckered lips with her hand. “I am still mad at you Lee Taeil, so no kisses until I say so.” Taeil looked at Y/N with sad eyes but complied. It’s funny how someone who basically has the biggest organization in Korea in the palm of his hand but a puddle in Y/N’s hands. She really was something different and Taeil loved her for that.

(Gifs by: Alittebitblockbbias ) I tried, soz.  ALso soz for the late late finished product.               

[cxstellx-blog]

it’s ya (girl) boi, ali, back at you again with a new character: david costello. under the cut, you’ll find out everything about this fresh of the slammer, grumpy old man!

i’m going to be writing a full bio later, but for now, here’s some good ol’ bullet points:

so, as a young boy, david was the only child of very absent parents

they meant well, as most parents do, but they worked constantly, all for the sake of david, but not having them around was very difficult

as well, not having his parents around allowed him to get mixed up with the wrong crowd from a very young age

growing up, he always found his way in sticking the wrong people, who influenced him into doing many illegal things as he reached adolescence. 

when he was fifteen years old, he went to juvie for fifteen months, after being caught in a stolen car. he was given a lax sentence because it was his first offence, but it certainly wouldn’t be his last time getting mixed up with the law

juvie taught him all the wrong things: he was a petty criminal before he went in, but meeting much tougher kids gave him more ideas on how to cause trouble on the outside. 

once released, he was far behind the other kids in his class, which made him incredibly unmotivated to do anything in class. 

in his sophomore year of high school, his parents divorced, which, quite frankly, pissed him off, causing him to lash out and get into even more trouble, namely fights. 

in his junior year of high school, he dropped out, much to his mom’s begrin. it caused many fights between them, causing him to move out. 

for several months afterward, he bounced from couch to couch, picking up odd jobs to try and save up for an apartment with his best friend, Anthony. 

finally, it happened, and he was able to move away, away from pickaway creek and everything that was happening here at the time. 

after that, there was more of the same, some run-ins with the law, trying to make enough money to pay the bills, but it was life, and he was satisfied. 

when his mother got remarried, it made him just as mad as when his parents split up. his mother, carolynn, did her best to try and reconnect with david, and tried to get him to become part of the family, but david didn’t want a new father, and certainly never asked for little ryan lindholm to be his step-brother.

 he came around occasionally, but it never ended well, more often than not his violent temper getting the best of him. eventually, his mother stopped inviting him over, thinking it brought nothing but heartache, and david wasn’t going to argue

he was twenty three when his life finally went to shit. 

when messing with the gun that anthony had bought off his drug dealer at the time, posing with pictures and doing their hardest to look like badasses, they didn’t realize the safety was not on. during their stupid little photoshoot, the gun went off, shooting anthony in the side. 

shocked, david called 911, and desperately tried to save his friends life, but he had already lost a lot of blood by the time the emts arrived, and they were not able to save him.

after being arrested, and going through a lengthy trial, he was found guilty of manslaughter with a deadly weapon, though many people believed that he had killed him. he was sentenced for 25 years

david found prison to be surprisingly comfortable. the first year or two took some adjusting, but he found his grove was finally able to get comfortable. 

he was able to stay out of trouble (at least after the first two years, where he got into many fights due to his temper) and be productive. after fifteen years, he was given the chance for parole.

able to pass his parole hearing, he was released. but, unfortunately, he was horribly unprepared for the real world. he was unable to find a job, and his asshole of a parole officier did nothing to help. it didn’t take long before he fell off the wagon again, and was sent back to prison to serve the rest of his sentence. 

going back to prison, david changed a lot. he tried to learn more about the outside world, and did his best to pick up skills and references, at least as many as you could whilst being in prison, and most importantly, got into contact with ryan once more. serving the last ten years of his sentence, he kept his down more than ever.

finally, he has gotten out, and returned once more to pickaway creek. he’s having a difficult time adjusting to how everything has changed, and trying desperately to find a job while he lives with his step-brother.

personality wise, he is very experienced, in certain walks of life, but in many ways is still the stupid twenty year old who got himself into trouble. he has a horrible temper, which he does his best to control, but often fails. he can be very grumpy, and horribly pessimistic. as well, he doesn’t have many interpersonal skills, at least with people who aren’t criminals. but, despite all that, david tries very hard to be kind and polite, wanting nothing more than be a better person and finally, truly start with his life (even if he is pretty late with that)

okay that was a huge mess BUT if you wanna plot hmu! as far as wanted connections go:

i would love someone who david bullied when they were younger! he did grow up in pickaway creek, and was a HUGE asshole with a temper as a kid, so that would be a very interesting connection

first love! cheesy, yes, but david was pretty charming when he was kid, and fit that badboy type spot on

otherwise, i don’t really have any other ideas, but if you still wanna plot just send me an im on here or a message through the discord (im aliera in the discord for those who don’t know)

[sarah-bae-maas]

A Court of Hearts and Darkness Chapter Sixteen

It’s been over a century since the epic and bloody war against Hybern, but a new, unprecedented horror lies in wait to threaten everything the Inner Circle holds dear.

At a mere 17, it seems that the only one who can save them is the Heir to the Night Court, Feyre and Rhysand’s daughter Eleana, but as a creature so vile promises to kill everyone she loves, she must combat the urge to succumb to the darkness herself. The key to success lies hidden within her mate, the bastard born Kaden, who is as oblivious to the bond as her Court is oblivious to the war on the horizon.

With the help of her cousin and warrior Felix, the son of the famed Nesta and Cassian, they will try to save everything they hold dear, hopefully before the darkness takes them all.

Link on Ao3 Masterlist

One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six   Seven   Eight   Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve   Thirteen  Fourteen   Fifteen 

***

-Chapter 16-

“I’m going to find you!” Felix sang. He knew exactly where his sister was from her giggling. He knew she was behind a tree in front of him, but was just letting her think she was going to win their game of hide-and-seek. It had only been hours since he returned home from his mission to the mortal lands, and all the other members of the Elite had been dismissed. He, however, was awaiting the arrival of a certain bastard and heir and couldn’t make a public appearance until they were with him.

He’d lied to High Lady Feyre and told her that he and Eleana were going to spend some quality time with Quathryn for a few hours, but that would become longer if Eleana didn’t arrive home soon. He was a little worried about how long Laya was taking to come home from the wedding, but there were multiple explanations for it. Firstly, her and Kaden were having such a splendid time that they let time slip away from them. Unlikely, knowing how angsty the two were. The second option was that they had a fight and Eleana is blowing off steam somewhere, but if that had happened Kaden would have come to him by now. Then there was the possibility that things went so horribly with his family that they were all dead and Felix would never see his friends again.

“Come find me! Lis!” Quathryn sang back to him. Her little voice warmed his heart and made him think more realistically. Together, Kaden and Eleana were an unstoppable force – he had to believe that nothing would go wrong. He’d go insane if we worried about them as much as they warranted him to.

Felix stalked quietly around the tree where Quathryn was hiding. He’s brought her to the part of the forest designated for the Elite to train, and since they weren’t, he thought he’d use it to play with his tiny sister.  When he went around, he saw her head peeking around the corner to see where he had gone, and then run off to where he had just been. Her blue dress swished in the Spring wind, and the sequinned shoes Mor had made just for her glittered a bright red. A smile graced his face, and he went back to go catch her.

She wasn’t there though. He stepped back around, and where she should’ve been she wasn’t. He listened for her breathing, her laughs, but couldn’t hear a sound beyond the rustling of the leaves in the breeze and his own heartbeat.

“Quathryn! It’s time to go home!”

She didn’t reply.

He started to panic, and was ready to summon the Elite when he turned and saw Quathryn snuggled in the arms of their father.

“Oh Mother. You scared the hell out of me!” He gave his father a relieved smile and walked over to the pair. Quathryn was babbling away telling Cassian about her wonderful day with Lis, and although Cassian was giving her smiles and asking all the appropriate questions, he gave off a very hostile air. As Felix walked over to them, he crossed a barrier of magic, a ward to conceal where you were unless you wanted someone to know. It smelt like melting metal and tickled his nose.

“I could say the same for you.” Cassian said lowly. Felix noticed that he was wearing full fighting attire. Flying leathers on, siphons glowing, a multitude of weapons strapped to him. He had to hold Quathryn to the side of his chest so that he didn’t accidently hurt her with one.

Felix stopped in his stride and his face fell. “What do you mean?”

“Can you imagine my concern when I get a message from another camp that says Eleana has attacked all the lord’s sons – injuring them to the point where they can no longer fight as soldiers? Can you imagine how my first thought is that these men must have done something to you first to garner this reaction from her – since she was with you – and how I must have panicked when I thought my son was hurt? Especially since I thought he was looking after my baby daughter too?”

“I’m sorry-”

“And then I tell your mother, who was hysterical, and could barely manage to tell Feyre. Rhys was maniacal, but that didn’t last long because he found her on her way back to the house, pretending like she’d been with you the whole time.”

“I’m-”

“What were you thinking?!” He yelled. “After everything that has happened you lie about her whereabouts? Not only that, but you use the team I gave you to do it?” Quathryn shirked back from Cassian and whimpered. Cassian turned to her instantly, apologizing profusely for scaring her and kissing the top of her head. When he spoke next to Felix, his voice was much calmer, and for Felix, that was much worse. “I am so disappointed in you. How can I trust you with the best the Illyrians have to offer when you can’t tell a simple truth?”

Felix stayed silent, his hands behind his back and his gaze to the floor. Hearing his father say he was disappointed in him was the worst thing he could’ve heard, and he knew there were no words that could rectify this.

“I can’t just let this go, not when your decisions impact everyone in the Inner Circle.” He came up to Felix and handed him Quathryn. Felix knew this wasn’t good – his father only did that when he had some particularly bad news. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lied her head on his chest, singing to herself. “I gave you the Elite, and for the foreseeable future, I’m taking them away.”

If Felix hadn’t been holding his sister he would’ve lurched. His father probably expected him to feel sad by this news, or to beg his forgiveness. What he wouldn’t expect was the pure, fiery rage that lit through him.

“No.” He spun on his heels, Quathryn still with him, and walked away from his father. Cassian flew over his head and landed in front of him.

“You can’t just say no, Felix. You can have them back when you prove to me that I can trust you.”

“They won’t listen to you.” Felix put simply.

“Excuse me?”

“You say you gave them to me, and that’s true. You gave me that position. But I earned it, and I built them from the bottom to the one of the most valuable assets the Night Court has. If you take away the Elite, I’ll just make another team under a different name with the same Illyrians. I won’t stand for this trivial punishment, not when you’re not really mad at me. No, you’re just tired because you have a child coming soon and are frustrated because the time Eleana was attacked it was because you didn’t figure out what the creature was. Don’t take your petty shit out on me.”

Quathryn gasped and slapped her hand over Felix’s mouth. “Is a bad word, Lis!” Her scolding brought him back from the angry stares he and his father were giving each other, and did the same for Cassian.

His father let out a loud breath, and came to stand next to Felix. “You’re right. You’ve earned everything you have and more, and I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner, and I’m sorry I’m taking frustrations I have about myself out on you.” He clasped Felix’s shoulder, and Felix let down his sister so he could give his father a proper hug.

They walked out of the forest together to go back to Felix’s house, Quathryn trotting in front of them picking wild flowers.

“Do you know why Eleana was near Cesere?” Cassian asked him.

Felix raised an eyebrow at him. “Have you ever tried to understand all the decisions she makes? She’ll hash it out with Rhys and Feyre, and we’ll hear about it afterwards.”

“I wonder how different the stories will be from what she tells you and what Rhys tell me.”

“It’ll be something along the lines of ‘Cassian,’” Felix put on a deep, growling voice, “’she was in mortal danger and could’ve died. I was so worried about her.’ And then she’ll just say,” Felix changed his voice to a high-pitched girly one, “’Oh my Cauldron! All he does is overreact nothing was wrong I was literally getting food like ugh.’”

Cassian let out a loud laugh.

“I can’t believe you thought you could take the Elite from me.” Felix snickered. It was rather stupid.

“Not my finest moment, I’ll admit. At the time, it felt like a good decision. Now I just think I’ll let Nesta deal with you. That’s far worse than any punishment I could give.

“Remind me again how you found someone to marry you?” Felix joked.

“Mate bonds. Lowering standards for millennia.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how it works.” Felix thought of the bond Eleana and Kaden shared, and there was no way one would be settling for the other. They were so perfect for each other it was sickening.

“Well you can ask your mother yourself. She may or may not be at the house waiting for us to come home.”

Felix’s groan of pain was so loud Quathryn looked at him in concern, and brought him a little bouquet of flowers.

_____

Rhys.

Feyre.

Eleana.

The heir sat on a stool in front of her pacing, and furious, parents. They were bickering with each other, trying to decide what her punishment should be. Eleana rolled her eyes. They were so preoccupied with arguing that they hadn’t even noticed when she swiped chocolate from the kitchen, and that she was now contently munching on it. She didn’t care what they said – she didn’t regret a thing. Not to mention that as soon as she told them everything she’d learned about the creatures plaguing Prythian something as menial as this would mean nothing. So, oh no, she’d hurt a few boy’s egos. She could have just killed them.

“Are you even listening, Eleana?!” Feyre turned her fury onto Eleana.

“If I’m being honest? No.”

“No?” Rhys was flabbergasted.

“This is stupid. I didn’t just decide that I was going to hurt some Illyrians because I felt like a laugh. I did it because they deserved it, and it was a just punishment. They’ll heal. In time, but they’ll still heal. Don’t worry, you’ll have them back in your arsenal any year now.” She defended herself.

To think only a few hours ago she’d been asleep, wrapped in Kaden’s arms, waking up only to make love, and now she was here being yelled at. She wondered where he was. When she’d gotten back to camp, she was going to run home to get some new clothes but was caught by her mother. Unfortunately, she was caught after they’d heard the news of what she’d done. They didn’t, however, seem to know what her motivations were or even really care.

Luckily, she was fully dressed when they found her, or this could have been whole new levels of awkward. She could still see the hungry look in Kaden’s eyes when she’d stolen his shirt and refused to give it back - telling him that if he wanted it he would have to come rip it off her.  

“This isn’t about how you hurt those males! We don’t care that you did that! You don’t think we don’t know what kind of people they are? We were worried sick! I’ve never seen Azriel so upset in my life-”

“Az?” Eleana interrupted her mother’s rant. She was expecting everything her mother was saying, but didn’t think her uncle would have anything to do with this.

“When he found out where you have been, and who you had been with, he was sick to his stomach. He would only let Mor in to console him. Not even Rhys!” She snapped.

Eleana was confused. She didn’t understand why Azriel would have that kind of reaction. Sure, he worried about her a lot, but never to this extent. “Why?” She wanted clarification. She hated that she had made him feel that way, even if she didn’t understand why he may.

“Do you even know who those Illyrians were?” Rhys asked her. “I was the one who had to tell Az where you were, when we thought you were safe with Felix and the Elite. He was physically ill, worse than I’ve ever seen him. I had to help him sit down after he nearly fainted. And that was before he threw up.”

“Why would he care who I was with?”

“Because you were with his nephews.” Rhys hurled.

“I told you, Felix wasn’t there!” She growled back.

“I wasn’t talking about Felix! Those males you hurt are the sons of his brother.  The one who did those awful things to him as a child. From the reputation they’ve garnered for themselves they seem to be just as ruthless. Why do you keep putting yourself in situations like this? Are you rebelling? Is there something wrong that you’re not telling us?”

Eleana couldn’t answer him. Of all the reasons for Azriel to be upset, all the things that he could’ve said, not this. Never this. Because if the males she attacked were Azriel’s nephews, then that would mean Kaden was too.

And it would mean Kaden still had family.

Eleana leaned over and buried her face in her hands – tears of relief cascading down her cheeks.

Both her parents rushed forward, never too angry to not want to help their child when she was upset. They both put their arms around her, and Rhys smoothed her hair and shushed her.

“Please don’t cry, butterfly. This is just out of line, and we worry about you so much already without you lying to us.”

The words her father was saying were barely registering with her. Her cried turned into quick gasps, and she needed to calm the hell down. She was just so happy.

“I need to talk to Az.” She sobbed.

Feyre and Rhys looked at each other – Rhys nodding his head and helping Eleana stand. “I think that would be a good idea. He’s beside himself, and I think seeing you would make him feel better.”

She hugged both her parents, but they stopped her when she tried to leave. “This isn’t over, Laya.” Her mother told her. “There will be repercussions for your actions, and you know we hate punishing you but this is something that has to be done.”

“What are you going to do?” She asked them.

“We’ll tell you after you see Az. Come home soon.” Feyre’s words put an unsettled feeling in her stomach, but she would push that aside for later. Right now, she needed to speak to her uncle.

_____

When Felix arrived home, he was met with the sight of his heavily pregnant mother. When she saw him, her nostrils flared in anger and she waddled up to him and his father. “Where have you three been? I’ve been waiting for at least an hour!”

Felix tried not laugh at her appearance. She didn’t fit into any of her clothes anymore, so she had taken to stealing his fathers at any possible moment. Right now, she was wearing a green shirt that was so big on her it could have been a dress, and a pair of her own white, knit leggings. She was also wearing fluffy slippers that matched a pair that Quathryn owned, and her hair was in utter disarray. Her cheeks were also tear-stained, and Felix just wanted to give her a hug.

She walked up and bent down as far as she could so she could kiss Quathryn. Quathryn, having gotten used to this by now, stood on the tips of her toes and puckered her lips to meet Nesta. “Look at my little girl. So much better behaved than the males in our house.” Nesta praised her.

When she walked to Felix, he held out his hands to hug her but she hit him on the head instead. “You pull shit like that again and I will kill you myself. How dare you put us all in that kind of stress. Did you father tell you about the Elite?”

Felix cringed and nodded. “We mutually decided that it was a bad idea, and that taking away the Elite would be pointless.”

Nesta raised a single eyebrow, and turned towards Cassian. She went to smack him in the head too, but he caught her hand and kissed her palm. “I missed you.”

“Don’t avoid the topic at hand. And you were only gone for an hour.”

Cassian ignored what she said so he could kiss her baby bump, both hands smoothing over the swollen belly lovingly. “See? Only an hour. I still missed you though.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Felix didn’t think she actually believed his father was insufferable. Felix didn’t usually lean down and kiss the people he thought that of, and then push his back against their chest so they can wrap their arms around him in an embrace. But maybe that was one of the ways Felix differed from his mother.

Felix bent down and picked up Quathryn, taking her to the kitchen so she could pick out any snack she wanted. She was deliberating between blueberry scones and apricot tarts when Felix heard his front door bang open and a sword being drawn.

He gave Quathryn both sweets and tucked her into one of his empty cupboards, and drew a dagger he’d had strapped at his thigh. He left the kitchen to see what was happening, only to roll his eyes at the scene in front of him. Kaden had backed himself against a wall with his hands raised in surrender, and his father had his sword at Kaden’s heart.

“How did you get past the wards on this house? If you think I’ll believe Felix let you, you’re wrong. He only lets family have free pass-”

“Lower your sword.” Felix scoffed. “It’s just Kaden, and he can come and go as he pleases.” His father turned to him and did as Felix asked. “Kaden, would you mind getting my sister? I put her in the cupboard when I heard the commotion.”

Kaden nodded and left the family be. Nesta was behind the couch – watching the scene unfold with curiosity.

“You can’t go around stabbing people that come into my house.” Felix chastised.

“He just burst in here!”

“Good. That means we’re making progress, and I’m sick of him always knocking.”

Kaden came back out with Quathryn – still nibbling away at her scone and tart. “I’m sorry for the intrusion Lady Nesta and General Cassian. I’ll be on my way now.” He handed Quathryn to Felix and she pouted at him in return.

“Oh no you don’t.” Felix grabbed Kaden by the back of the shirt and made him stay where he was. Quathryn must have agreed with his decision, because she too reached out with her little hand and grabbed Kaden’s shirt. “Father, mother, this is Kaden. He’s in the first row, and he’s also my best friend. He’s twenty years old and enjoys long walks on the beach and sunsets. Now that we’re all well acquainted, why don’t we all have dinner?”

Nesta glanced an appreciate eye up and down Kaden, and Cassian scowled at her. She shrugged her shoulders and came around to them to properly introduce herself.

______

When Eleana arrived at Azriel and Mor’s, night was just beginning to fall. Their house made of an ocean of greenery reflected the yellow and pinks of the sky and sun – making the whole place gleam like a rare gem.

She was so excited to tell Azriel what she had discovered, and she genuinely thought that he would be too. He liked Kaden a lot, most people did, and now they could act like a proper family.

She just wanted them all to be happy – Kaden especially. The night she had just spent with him…

She felt a giddy rush go through her. She would get to spend her whole life like that once Kaden was ready to be with her, and if he had a family member who was encouraging and helped him deal with his childhood, he would be even closer to taking that step. Azriel had suffered a similar fate to Kaden at the hands of their family, and had since come to peace with it. It took him hundreds of years, but that was because no one really understood what he went through and how to help him. Az would know exactly how to help Kaden.

A whole life of him running his hand down her back just to remind her he was still there. A whole life of random kisses to her neck. A whole life of staying up hours into the night talking, him holding her close, skin to skin.

She went to the door, far too impatient to knock, and burst in. She’s kind of making a habit of it, but situations like this called for it.

“What?” She heard Mor snap. Her aunt came rushing down the stairs, a furious look on her face, but stopped short when she saw Eleana. “Eleana, it’s you.” She sighed in relief. Her aunt walked up to her and hugged her.

“I need to speak to Az. I found out something huge, Mor. You’ll never believe it.” Eleana smiled.

Mor nodded and pulled her up the stairs. “I’m so glad you’re here, Eleana. He’s been so worried. I thought you were Cassian – I’ve had to tell him to stay away. Az was just inconsolable and needed some space, but I think you’re the perfect person to make him feel better.”

Mor took Eleana to her study, and Eleana could see shadows dancing under the door. Mor opened the door, and Azriel stood from his position behind the desk to meet her. When his eyes met him Eleana’s, his body slumped in relief and he grabbed her to him in a tight hug.

“Laya, you’re safe.” He breathed.

“Of course I am. You don’t have to worry about me like this.” She hugged him back, and could feel him shaking slightly. “I need to tell you something though – such wonderful news!” She pulled herself back and gestured for Az and Mor to both sit. When they did, she clasped her hands in front of her like she was about to give a presentation.

“Well, Laya?” Mor prodded.

“As you both know, I am in serious trouble with my parents because I lied and told them I was with Felix, when really, I ditched and went to a wedding near Cesere, with some questionable people.”

Azriel made a choking sound in his throat. “I am aware.” He groaned.

“Uncle Az, I had no idea the way I had upset you until my father told me, and I felt awful. But I also didn’t understand – not until I was told that the males I punished were your ne-”

“Don’t call them that, Laya. I have no attachment to that part of my family.”

She looked at him sympathetically. “I know, but maybe you don’t.” Mor and Azriel gave each other a strange look, and Eleana continued. “The only reason I was at the wedding is because Kaden invited me. The reason I attacked those males, was because they had hurt him first. And it’s not the first time either,” Although the dire topic, Eleana had a wide smile on her face. “Because they are his brothers. The ones who hurt him so badly as a child. And if they’re his brothers, and those males are the sons of your brother, that means…” Eleana couldn’t finish her sentence – leaving them to put the pieces together themselves. She clapped her hands and shimmied her shoulders in pure excitement.

She expected there to be shock on their faces, a little surprise, but they both just seemed grim.

“This is great!” Eleana tried to hype them. “Now both you and Kaden have more than just the family you’ve made for yourselves! There’s nothing wrong with that, but now he won’t feel so alone. He doesn’t get it like you do Az. He needs you.”

Az and Mor looked at each other, and both stayed silent.

“Aren’t you happy?” She asked them. She knew they were both very good at concealing their emotions, but she didn’t think a time like this would make them choose to do so. She was expecting happy hugs before flying to the camp together, a heartfelt confession to Kaden, not to be on the receiving end of their poker faces.

Then she realised, as Mor and Az looked at each other again, it’s not that they were hiding their surprise, it’s that they didn’t feel any.

She looked away from them, not knowing what to think. “You already knew.”

“We did.” They told the truth.

“For how long?”

“I knew as soon as I saw him for the first time, on the day you were taken.” Az confessed.

Eleana stumbled back slightly, having to right herself by sitting down on a stool in the corner.

“That was months ago.” Her voice broke on the last word, and she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to cry. “Why?”

Azriel didn’t move, but Mor had so she could place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“The truth is, Eleana, that I don’t have to explain the decisions I make to you or anyone else. I hope you respect my choice and don’t tell-”

“Fuck you.” She growled at him.

“Eleana!” Mor barked.

“How can you condone this?! Kaden is all alone, all he’s ever been is alone! I don’t need to ask you if you can relate in any way, or if you know what that feels like, because we all know you do! Both of you know what it’s like to be ostracized from the people who are meant to love you unconditionally, and yet you don’t tell him? Why? Please, explain this to me or I will just think the worst. Maybe if he was an ass, then I would understand. But he’s kind, and lovely, and pure, and he deserves more than just what Felix and I can give him.”

All Eleana could think about was the previous night, when she’d been in his arms and he’d told her exactly what had happened to him as a child. He was six when it became really bad, when the things his brothers did started to leave scars. She could still feel his tears on her skin as he cried into her neck, and the feel of her lips on his as she showed him how much he meant to her.

Azriel looked straight through her, hands clenched and jaw set. His face had paled and Mor was trying to get him to look at her, whispering to him so Eleana couldn’t hear.

“Are you going to answer me?”

Azriel shook his head.

“I tell you everything,” she murmured. “And I know that it’s different, because I’m just a child in your eyes, and you’re the adult. I just thought that I had earned at least enough respect to get honesty from you.”

“Eleana, I think maybe you should go home.” Mor smoothed back Azriel’s hair – the male still staring vacantly ahead. “There are some things you’re too young to understand.”

Eleana stood, and tried to brush out invisible wrinkles form her clothes. She walked to the open door, and stepped from the room. Just as she was about to close it, she spoke once again. “I thought you cared about us more than that. You haven’t just been lying to Kaden, but also to Felix and I.” Her hand shook as she put it on the handle, and she couldn’t bear looking at them. She opened her mouth to say something else, something that would hurt him as much as he’d hurt her, but she closed it with resignation. There was no point and she still loved him, and Mor was right.

She didn’t understand.

_____

Eleana winnowed to the camp and made her way to Kaden’s tent. He wasn’t there, so the next best assumption was Felix’s.

As she approached his house, she could tell from the loud sounds of laughter within that Kaden was there. She could see Cassian, Nesta, and Quathryn on the balcony bidding their goodbyes to Felix and Kaden, and Eleana’s first thought was at least one of my uncles want him.

She saw Cas put him an arm around Nesta, the other holding Quathryn firmly on his hip as he winnowed them away. Felix and Kaden went back inside, and Eleana waited a few minutes before entering herself. She could tell that Kaden was buoyant, and she wanted that to last as long as possible. She also knew, though, that she needed to tell Kaden what she had learnt, and it would be better if Felix was there to help support him.

She released a shaky breath, and walked to the front door, gingerly knocking on it until a radiant Felix opened it.

“Eleana!” He pulled her inside. “I’m surprised to see you. I thought you’d have been banished to the ends of Prythian to live in solitary confinement until the age of fifty.”

“What would you do if I told you my mother and father had no idea I was here?”

“I would approve, and deny being involved for the rest of my living years.” He picked up a tart and offered it to her, but she politely declined.

“Where’s Kaden?”

“He’s in the bathroom washing up. Quathryn felt the need to decorate him with icing, and then my mother very inappropriately joined in. Missing him already?” Felix teased.

“I found something out, Felix, and I have to tell him but he’ll need you there to support him.”

Felix turned solemn, and nodded. “Anything you need.”

They talked for a bit – Felix told Eleana this ludicrous story about how Cassian nearly took away the Elite, and Eleana told him about how her parents were furious to the point where they barely even noticed what she was doing.

Eleana was mid-sentence when Kaden came out of the bathroom. Shirtless. She had to refrain herself from pouncing on him. His face broke in a smile when he saw her, and he instantly walked over to embrace her. He held her so tight he lifted her from the ground, and her arms were just as firm around him. He touched their foreheads together, and she closed her eyes – content to stay like this.

“Hello,” He lowered her to the ground, but didn’t make any distance between them.

“Hello,” She moved her head so it could rest on his shoulder. She was tired, and she was scared about how he would react to what she was about to tell him. “I have to tell you something.”

He leaned his head on hers. “Yes?”

She finally moved away, but held his hands so she could make him sit down. She led him to the couch, and when he sat - a bemused look on his face - she knelt in front of him and pressed her lips to his knuckles. “Do you remember what I told you yesterday?” That she loved him.

“Every word.”

“Then before I tell you this I need you to remember that, and you need to remember that Felix is here as well.” Speaking of, he sat down next to his friend, just as confused but ready to be a helping hand.

“You’re worrying me.” Kaden told her.

She kissed his hands again, and then told her story. “My parents were furious when they learned I went to the wedding – don’t interrupt, okay? Just let me tell it. The reason they were so mad was less because of what I’d done by lying to them, and more about the Illyrians I was with. Azriel,” a lump formed in her throat at the name. “Azriel was beside himself, and I didn’t know why. My parents then explained to me that it was because the people I was with were his estranged family. That the males I attacked-” she squeezed his hands again, and then moved one of her own to stroke his cheek, “that the males I attacked were the sons of his brother. Azriel doesn’t like to call them his nephews, but that’s technically what they are.”

Kaden looked at Felix, her cousin looking right back at his with the same expression of shock. In unison, they let out of whoop of joy – standing and jumping up and down together.

“Holy shit!” Felix shouted.

“Do you think Cas can give me permission to go to Velaris? We must tell him! We need to tell Az right now!” The two males jumped into a hug, spinning each other around like children.

Eleana’s heart broke with their elation, and she remained kneeling on the floor – tears stinging in her eyes once more.

“You’re Az’s nephew! You’re on a nick-name basis with my father! Both are weird and yet I am very happy!” Felix cheered.

“We’re just like brothers!” Kaden and Felix were wrapped around each other, swaying back and forth.

“Let’s go right now. Fuck getting permission, Az will get us off the hook. Eleana? You coming?”

They both looked at her, finally, and let go of each other and their joy when they saw her despair.

“Eleana?” Kaden came to his knees beside her, putting his thumb to her lips when he saw them trembling.

“You can’t go to Velaris.” Her voice broke.

“Why?” Felix asked. He pulled them both up, and made them sit on the couch rather than kneeling. Kaden and Eleana were faced towards each other, knees touching, and Felix stood in front of them.

“Because Azriel already knows. He has for months.” The tears that had been itching at her eyes since she found out fell when she saw Kaden’s face change. It went from pure exhilaration, to stony in a second. She’d seen that expression before, he was trying not to cry.

“Oh. I see.”

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered.

Felix’s mouth hung open, too stunned to say anything.

“Don’t be sorry, Eleana. It is what it is.” He cleared his throat and turned so he could poke Felix in the stomach. “Get that look off your face – I’m supposed to be the one who can’t keep his emotions in check.” His joke fell flat, and his voice wavered with every word.

“I don’t know why.” She offered to him. What else could she say? It was the complete truth – she didn’t know why Azriel acted this way, why he had deceived them for so long.

“Please don’t waste your tears on me.” He leaned forward and kissed away the tears on her cheeks.

“It’s okay to be upset by this.” Felix said in a low voice with a deep frown on his face.

“No, please. Neither of you need to be troubled by this.” His words were false, and he knew it. Eleana did too, and that’s why she crawled into his lap. They weren’t together, but she’ll be damned if she let him deal with this on his own.

“It isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I want to be troubled, I want to worry.”

“Please, please, don’t. I-I know I can’t explain it to you, but this isn’t something I’m u-unaccustomed to. No one in my family has ever – you two are the first to ever want me.” His face finally crumpled, and Eleana felt a sob tear through him. “He knows me,” Kaden turned to Felix, the latter with a hand over his face trying to conceal his own tears. “H-he knows me and he still – he still – Cauldron, he knows everything about me and he still doesn’t-” Kaden gritted his teeth as he cried, his emotion so thick that he could no longer form a coherent sentence.

His hands moved to her waist, and he took her in his arms as firmly as he could, every possible inch that could be touching was. He was quivering, and so very vulnerable, and she didn’t know what to do.

He looked up at her and Felix – all three’s faces stained from tears. “I thought he – I thought I could look up to him, and when he distanced himself from me I thought it was because I came on too strong, and I-I scared him away. I thought, so stupidly, that this is a male I can impress, who might look at me one day and be proud. Do you think that when he looks at me, he sees my father? That when he looks at the scars on his hands, he thinks of me? And Lady Morrigan… I thought she respected me as a solider, and she didn’t look down on me because of my,” Kaden looked around, the glassy sheen he got when he used his magic coating his eyes, “because of my affliction.”

“You can’t think like that, Kaden. Whatever his reasoning here-”

“I’m so embarrassed, Felix.” Kaden interrupted his friend. “Everything I thought was wrong.” He sniffled loudly and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I need to go back to my tent - sleep this off.”

“Not a chance.” Felix asserted. “I don’t care if you sleep in your room, or my room, or the bloody couch, but you are staying here with me tonight.”

The two stared at each other, and eventually Kaden nodded in agreement. “Will you stay too?” He asked Eleana.

“Mother knows I wish I could, but my parents will look everywhere for me once they realise I’m not in Velaris-”

“You can stay.” Felix moved away from them, trying to subtlety wipe his eyes. “I’ll ward the house, and I’ve had to hide things enough times that it’s honestly one of my best skills. They’ll never know you’re here, and if they question if someone else if residing here, I’ll just get my mother to tell them about my dear friend Kaden. Quathryn will vouch too.” He tried to lighten the tone.

Without another word, the three, very exhausted, fae-Illyrians retired to their rooms. Felix took his, and Kaden and Eleana slept in the room Felix had always kept waiting for Kaden. All three were vulnerable on their own, strong enough to deal with this together.