#at least this would definitely be the case last century

[king-of-men]

Without bothering to look up anything in particular about sweet brother, I suspect it's the opposite: Sweden has exactly one lottery, it's run by the state, and the payouts are extremely easy to track down in public records. So it's easy to get the data and be sure you're studying everyone who won, no selection bias.

Not fact-checked, obviously, but I have this vague sense that I’m constantly seeing observational studies about Swedish lottery winners. The latest ACX linkdump has one, and there were previously influential ones about “what does winning the lottery due to your likelihood of getting or staying married and having children” and “what does winning the lottery do to life satisfaction”. How many lotteries does Sweden have, and why are their lottery winners apparently always the ones used in observational studies?

[jnnul]

ready for love

PAIRING ▸ lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. tbz's juyeon)

GENRES ▸ fluff, non!idol au, college au, slice of life, friends to lovers but also...it’s complicated?

WARNINGS ▸ uhh swearing, drinking (but legally), mentions of infidelity, there was supposed to be so much more but it just turned into a fluff piece sooo..., y/n is indecisive and jeno is stupid, they're a match made in heaven 🫶🏽, jeno is the loverboy of the century towards the end, they make out and a few allusions to sex but no graphics, is it just me or is that header really blurry

SUMMARY ▸ a boy who has never taken a relationship seriously. a girl who is seriously over relationships. when they end up finding each other, will they let their ideas of what a relationship should be like ruin their relationship before it even starts?

PLAYLIST ▸ ready for love - blackpink, lovin’ me - fifty fifty, siren - taeyeon, island - youha, hate that - key & taeyeon

WORD COUNT ▸ 19.5k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ oh hey it's that one fic i've been writing since july! which reminds me - if that ending looks familiar, it's because technically, this was supposed to come out right after that timestamp did oops.

as always, feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

far too easy. a couple of lingering stares. a coincidental request on social media. a few well-placed messages. one date later and...done. he was in. hook, line, and sinker.

it was almost getting predictable. at first, lee jeno just wanted to have a little fun. it was never anything serious - and it definitely wasn't always about sex. truly. as distrustful as men had made themselves out to be within the past few thousands of years, jeno truly wasn't thinking with his dick when he got into relationships.

it was just about having fun. he just wanted to get to know people, do sohing romantic just for the experience, and maybe, get to know their body if the relationship felt so inclined.

there was never any delusion about what a relationship with jeno was like. it was two months, if you lasted that long, and every second of it made you feel alive like you never had before. but the honeymoon stage would pass and jeno would lose interest and soon, there would be a heartbroken girl left behind, even though she knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

and it wasn't as though they could really get mad at him. he was a sweetheart through and through and he would continue to say hi if they ever saw each other around and he had definitely saved a couple exes from some ugly encounters. jeno never meant to hurt anyone; it just happened soimes because he was such a good guy.

at least, that’s what you understood of your best friend. from his nights of drunken confessions and the few encounters you’d had with his ‘girlfriends’, you had surmised that jeno lee was just meant to be a serial casual dater.

you, quite frankly, were on the opposite end of the spectrum. after a few too many boyfriends who had turned out to be grade a douchebags, you had effectively sworn off men.

dating was just far too hard. the 'did he notice me?' stage where you dress up a little prettier than normal. and then the internal panic when they request you on instagram. the casual talking stage where you've already accidentally planned out the wedding. the date where you choose to move past all of the blatant red flags you see. and then the relationship, when the red flags become red banners the size of antarctica because goddamnit, how did you miss the fact that this man was a literal freudian case study.

so whenever jeno would introduce his newest girlfriend or go on about his many adventures (including the details about the not-so-family-friendly aspects), you couldn't help but feel a little pang of jealousy because where the hell was jeno finding such amazing relationships? and why the hell isn't he taking them seriously?

you're sure you couldn't even count the number of sweet girls you knew would've been perfect to take home to his mother you had been introduced to before they were gone the next week.

"and that's why i think you're an insufferable brat," you grumble, pointing a stick of celery at him threateningly. jeno snorts slightly, redirecting your celery to the hummus sitting next to where you were perched on his kitchen counter.

"you've been saying that for as long as we've been friends," he says, pouring a spoonful of soy sauce into the rice for the fried rice he was preparing for dinner.

"three years too many," you say, squinting your eyes at him suspiciously. "how have we actually stayed friends for three years when you're so...wishy-washy?"

jeno's roommate, na jaemin, rubs his eyes as he stumbles into the kitchen, saluting you sarcastically as he reaches into the fridge to grab an entire bowl of strawberries.

"what a burn, y/n. wishy-washy. yeah, i'll bet that really did a number on him, didn't it, jeno my boy?" jaemin snorts, pouting when he quite nearly drops the bowl of strawberries on his foot.

he also very nearly escapes decapitation by celery stick, ducking from your brutal aim.

"at least i don't have a mommy kink," you snide, salvaging what was left of your celery snack.

jaemin jabs a strawberry in your general direction with a look of indignant betrayal on his face.

"i thought we agreed to never speak of what was revealed during balkan night," jaemin hissed. "you promised, y/n!"

"i was crossing my fingers," you shrug, placating your best friend with an olive branch of a silly smile when he swears vengence by strawberry assault a second time.

"whatever," jaemin grumbles as he slinks back to the darkness of his room. jeno just shakes his head fondly, tossing in the vegetables the two of you had just chopped up into the fried rice.

"why do you always feel the need to rag on him like that?" jeno says, mixing the vegetables into the rice.

"why do you always feel the need to avoid taking a relationship seriously?" you counter, hopping down from your perch to throw out the now empty hummus container.

"you know, anyone hearing this conversation right now would think that you were the one not taking relationships not seriously instead of me," he says calmly, taking a spoonful of rice. he blows on it before reaching out to you, letting you taste-test the fried rice. you hum, sifting through the ingredients in the fridge as you analyze what the missing ingredient was. your eyes land on a small plastic container with finely chopped garlic inside, the realization clicking in your head.

"just because i'm a little youthful and you have the personality of a grandpa doesn't mean that you have to be the one who takes relationships too seriously," you say, sprinkling the garlic into the fried rice. jeno hands you the wooden spatula and lets you take over the cooking process as he finds three bowls for the three of you.

"whatever helps you sleep at night," jeno says with a soft chuckle.

"speaking of relationships though, i'm not going to be leeching off of you for dinner tonight," you say casually, offering a spoonful to jeno this time to let him taste your shared creation.

he flashes you a happy eye smile, retreating into the hallway to call jaemin out of his room for lunch.

"date?" jeno says, a strange look in his eye as he hands you your spoon (you had a preference for only eating with the singular small spoon in the entire apartment for some reason) with a knowing smile.

"somewhat? it's a double date but i'm only going for jimin because she really really likes the guy and she's afraid she's going to fuck it up if it's just the two of them," you explain, giving him a thumbs up for the successful food collaboration.

"do you know who it's with?" jaemin pipes up, seemingly refreshed after consuming an inhumane amount of strawberries.

you furrow your eyebrows, trying to recollect the name of the guy jimin mentioned that jaehyun was bringing before shaking your head.

"i think his name was jayeon? yeonju? juyeon? i don't know, i don't really remember. all i know is that jaehyun better be head over fucking heels for jimin by the end of the night," you say in between bites.

"juyeon? lee juyeon?" jaemin says suddenly, his spoon clattering as he drops it in his bowl. jeno and jaemin exchange a look that you don't miss and you definitely don't like.

"am i missing sohing here? do you guys know him?" you ask, the worry lines on your forehead having become near permanent. jeno shrugs, pushing his food around in an uncharacteristically hesitant manner.

"i mean i just heard that he was a bit of a heartbreaker when he was in college but i don't really think that it was that big of a deal," jaemin says finally. you roll your eyes, puffing out your chest sarcastically.

"i'm a big girl guys, don't worry. i can handle myself," you say, patting jeno's shoulder comfortingly as you move to wash your bowl. "and besides, i'm not actually going there to find the love of my life; i'm just going there to support jimin."

"just be careful, y/n." jeno gives you a quick little side-hug before disappearing into the living room to turn on some tv. you turn to jaemin but your question dies on your tongue when you see that jaemin is already staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"what's up with him?" you ask, when jaemin sighs, getting up to wash his dishes.

"jeno's worried for you," he says. you huff, watching jaemin put his washed bowl into the dishwasher.

"i get that, dipshit. what i don't get is why!" you exclaim, wincing when you realize that you're much louder than you had intended.

"because juyeon's just like jeno."

it's all jaemin says but it's all he needs to say because now, you finally understand.

+++

"now remember, i'm only coming with you for you, okay? if you ever want to just be with jaehyun by yourself, let me know and i'll be more than happy to head on my way out," you whisper to jimin as you flash a bright smile at jaehyun, who approaches the both of you with a dimpled smile as he tucks his car keys into his pocket.

"y/n! it's so good to see you after so long," jaehyun says, pulling you in for a friendly side hug.

"i know," you say, squeezing quickly before letting go. "can you believe it's already been a month since renjun's party?"

jaehyun furrows his eyebrows, shuffling so that he was standing next to jimin. "no, really? has it already been a month?"

he doesn't wait for you to answer, turning to jimin almost immediately. "it's been a month since i met you? why does it feel like i've known you my entire life?"

it takes all you have to turn to the side before fake gagging, unable to help the cringe that runs through your body from the cheesiness, jimin fighting back a giggle, but you can see that her cheeks are bright red.

"jae, for your sake and the beautiful ladies', i'm gonna have to pretend like you never said that," a deep voice says from behind you. the man steps into the light and you're sure that your eyes are about to fall out of their socket.

juyeon is one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. long, long legs that lead up to broad shoulders, beautiful eyes and lips that would make kylie jenner jealous. his dark hair is slicked back and he holds himself with a humble, quiet confidence that makes you ready to fall to your knees instantly. he turns to you and his cool demeanor is instantly broken when he smiles, his face glowing in the faint lights of the restaurant.

"hi, i'm juyeon," he says, sticking his hand out for you to shake. you stare at it for a moment before taking it.

"y/n. it's nice to meet you," you say dreamily, before coming to your senses and retracting your hand. you were here for jimin and jimin only. juyeon and his beautiful face would have to stay in the friend zone - especially if what jaemin had warned you about was true.

but just because you couldn't purchase doesn't mean you couldn't window shop.

"y/n," juyeon drawls, letting your name roll off of his tongue. "a pretty name for a pretty girl."

jimin can barely stifle a giggle at your dazed expression, elbowing you in the rib cage. you shake your head slightly, composing yourself once more. how in hell were you supposed to confine this man to the friend zone if everything he said threatened your very sanity?

"well, they say that you should never keep a pretty woman waiting," you say with coy smile, gesturing towards the restaurant. "shall we head inside?"

juyeon mock-bows while jaehyun opens the door and says, "ladies first."

you blow juyeon a kiss with a teasing smile, linking arms with jimin and sauntering into the restaurant. juvenile? perhaps. but where was the fun in being adult all the time?

the four of you make your way to where there's a receptionist standing behind a booth, jaehyun stating his name for the reservation.

"right this way, ladies and gentlemen," the receptionist says, gathering a handful of menus and leading you to your table.

"so jaehyun tells me you are a business major," juyeon says, falling in step beside you. you hum, shaking your head slightly.

"i was a business major; i double majored in finance and economics, but i graduated two months ago," you explain, thanking the waiter as you take your seat at the table. juyeon takes the seat next to you and jimin takes the seat on the other side so that you were sat directly across from jaehyun.

you're about to turn to jimin and say something only to find her enraptured by some fascinating conversation that her and jaehyun seemed to be having, turning back with a knowing smile.

"i'm sorry, i was under the impression that you were still in school since it's only march," juyeon says, handing you one of the menus the waiter had left on the table.

"i graduated early because of the overlap between my majors. i was required to keep up my grades for my scholarship anyway so i was able to build up credits fairly quickly," you explain, trying to ignore the spark of electricity that you feel when juyeon's fingers linger on yours.

"oh, so you were quite the academic," he says, running a hand through his hair. you determinedly stare at the menu, forcing down the hot flash that runs through your body when juyeon catches you watching.

"you could say so," you nod, scanning the menu. "how about you? what did you major in when you were in school?"

"i was your direct senior," juyeon begins, smiling when he sees the confusion on your face. "i was a finance major in college."

"no way! that's so interesting. where do you work now?" you ask once you put down the menu to meet his eyes. maybe jaemin and jeno were just being overprotective? it wouldn't be the first time they steered you away from heartbreak but juyeon seemed like such a sweet and genuine guy.

because juyeon's just like jeno.

that statement is enough to bring you back to your senses as you focus on what juyeon is saying, jimin and jaehyun still debating the difference between computer engineering and computer science (their respective majors) and which one was better.

nerds.

"i was at amazon up until last summer but i recently switched to a new company. it's a pretty small company but they specialize in cleaning the ocean of plastic and recycling the plastic for 3D printing. it's very niche but i didn't want to just be another finance bro that just worked for the sake of money, you know? i wanted to work with a good consciousness."

maybe curving juyeon from claiming a place in your already fragile heart would be a little more difficult than you expected. kind, environmentally aware and a chose ethical work? juyeon was already better than approximately 90% of your exes.

"how about you? have you started working yet? the market is pretty brutal for freshly graduated f&e people, from what my friends tell me." you nod, internally composing yourself and steeling yourself a little bit more to keep from falling into juyeon's charms.

just like jeno. the reminder is harsh, but it works like magic as you feel the butterflies in your stomach beginning to dissapate.

"it certainly is a lot more competitive than i think a lot of people anticipated. thankfully, i was able to connect to a sponsor during one of the scholarship banquets and was offered a position for right after school," you explained and juyeon's eyes turn from mild and observing to full of respect as he nods, almost approvingly.

"which company?" he asks, taking a sip of his water.

"i actually am working in the finance department at patagonia..."

+++

the night progresses almost too smoothly. once the food had come out, jaehyun and jimin finally seemed to come out of the bubble they were in and the conversation flowed so well, it was almost as though the four of you had known each other for years.

it was clear that jaehyun and juyeon were close, having met each other at work and instantly clicking. the easy back and forth between them allowed you and jimin relax a little more, allowing the conversation to turn to less formal subjects.

you find out that juyeon has a dog, much to your dismay.

"y/n loves dogs!" jimin exclaims, and you can feel your heart's walls crack a little further. there were many things you could handle - a cute boy with a dog? that was a little out of the realm of control.

"really? oh you'd love ray then - he's a big dog but he's got a lot of love. sort of a gentle giant," juyeon says, his eyes twinkling as he pulls out his phone to show you his wallpaper. it's a picture of him and ray curled up next to each other, sleeping in bed, both of them in the same exact position as they snored away.

"i swear, him and ray are the same soul in two different bodies. i've seen this guy have full on conversations with his dog. which would be weird but it kinda just works for them somehow. i kinda think that ray genuinely does understand juyeon," jaehyun snorts, nodding at juyeon's wallpaper. "that was when ray was still a puppy and he would copy every single thing that juyeon did."

juyeon shrugs, smiling as he tucks his phone back into his pocket. "not much has changed there, if i'm being honest."

you're about to say something about meeting ray when your phone rings abruptly, rudely interrupting the conversation. you frown as you flip your phone open, looking at the contact profile on the screen. jeno?

"hello?" you say as you answer the phone, pointing to the restroom as you excuse yourself from the table. from the corner of your eye, you can see the waiter coming with the bill for your table and you vaguely register the fact that only two cards are being put on the table (jaehyun's and juyeon's) as you make your way somewhere a little more private.

"hellooo? y/nnnn-ie? you stilllll at your, huh, date?" jeno slurs into your phone and you hear someone in the background, presumably jaemin, trying to convince jeno to stop himself from saying or doing something stupid.

"yes, jeno, i'm still at my date. that you interrupted, by the way," you say with a frustrated sigh. you check your watch and realize that it's only 9:30 PM and jeno does not sound like he's been taking it easy on the alcohol. "why are you drinking jen?"

"whattttt, so now i'm a shitty lover and i can't, heh, drink?" jeno grumbles into the phone and it's clear from the sudden silence in the background that jaemin has completely giving up on wrestling jeno's phone out of his hand. you had firsthand experience with drunk jeno - he turned into the hulk.

"jen, if you called me in the middle of my date to go off the rails about how you're a lonely fucker, i'm going to kill you," you hiss, smiling at the lady who comes into the restroom as you weren't threatening your best friend with murder.

"I'M NOT A LONELY FUCKER!"

oh, so this part jeno could say without hiccuping or slurring his words. fantastic. you sigh, switching your phone to the other ear as you wash your hands, getting ready to leave the restroom. there's a pregnant pause where no one says anything but you can hear the top gun theme song in the background so you know jeno's on the line.

"if - if i change, will you not go out with juyeon?" jeno mutters finally, just as you're leaving the restroom. "if i finally start getting serious about relationships, will you not go out with him? will you come home?"

you pause at that. jeno's always been the protective type. for all of his own playboy (even if technically he wasn't trying to be a playboy) charm, jeno genuinely wasn't very happy when you dated people. he wouldn't be rude to them and he certainly would never force you to break up with them but every time he would run into them, regardless of how long you had dated them, he always had something to say.

he looks like he jerks off to weird porn. definitely something about shampoo, a hot girl, and way too much viagra.

he has a small dick.

he makes his girlfriends lose weight even though he has a beer belly.

i'm not even gonna lie to you - i just hate the fact that he's balding.

most of the reasons that jeno gave you were kinda stupid. but ultimately, he was usually right about which people to avoid and even if he said it was because they were ugly and balding, it was usually because he knew that they weren't kind people on the inside.

it was because you just didn't have a great self-image, jeno used to say. if you saw yourself the way the rest of us - the way i see you, you'd never even give some of these assholes a chance, y/n. think of it as playboy experience about how to find the people actually worth your time.

but he had never said anything like this before. for all of the hazy comments and strange strength jeno developed when he was drunk, he had never said anything like this to you before. mostly because jaemin was really good at protecting his roommate from making stupid decisions but it was clear that even jaemin couldn't stop this.

"jen, you sound crazy right now," you say, rubbing your forehead. you step out of the restroom to see juyeon waiting at the table alone, as jimin and jaehyun seemingly already left together. "i don't really know what you're trying to say and quite frankly, i have no clue why you're acting like this. ask jaemin to make sure you're drinking a lot more water and we'll talk about this in the morning, alright?"

jeno doesn't say anything but from the shuffling in the background, you realize that jaemin has finally rose from his slump and was signaling something to jeno. good. maybe jaemin would be able to understand why the fuck jeno was acting like this.

there's an exchange of words, mostly jaemin berating jeno to hand over the phone as you hear a loud thump in the background before jaemin is speaking.

"hey, y/n it's me," jaemin says. it's clear that he's been drinking too but jaemin isn't too much of a drinker so he still sounds pretty levelheaded as he speaks.

"what's up with jeno, jaemin? why is he acting like that?" you ask, making your way over to the table slowly. you realize that juyeon is holding onto your coat and suddenly, you're not really sure about what to do. you don't know what it is about the simple fact that juyeon is holding your coat but the entire thing seems a little domestic. like the two of you actually were on a date.

"y/n, i'm gonna be so honest with you, i think it's best if you have some distance from jeno for a while. i think he's just getting in his head about stuff he shouldn't be and really, i think the only way he's gonna get over it or figure out how to talk to you about it if he has some distance."

how perfect. you sigh, running your hand through your hair as you smile at juyeon, who helps you put your coat over your shoulders, the scent of his cologne filling up your lungs. you decide that if it was distance that jeno wanted, it was distance jeno was going to get. quite frankly, this wasn't the first time jeno had randomly pulled away from you, even if it was the first time he had finally come close to clueing you into why.

it was clear that jeno didn't like you dating people - especially not juyeon. maybe even to the extent of jeno changing his own playboy ways to convince you otherwise of interacting with juyeon.

you had considered the fact that jeno might be interested in you romantically or that maybe he was jealous for your affections. but every time you thought that, jeno would come back from his faraway space with a new girl and a genuine twinkle in his eye and suddenly, everything was back to normal.

jeno simply was an overprotective person, you decided. and he would do whatever he thought was right to make sure that the people around him didn't get hurt.

it really did check out, honestly.

jeno was equally overprotective of everyone in his life because getting that close to him in the first place was a feat within itself. once you made it past that original barrier, however, he would be willing to give his life if he thought it would help even the slightest.

but...even so. this was weird.

either way, juyeon was opening the passenger door to his car and you were aimlessly climbing into it so any and all thoughts about jeno would have to wait until you made it down this slippery slope first. the last thing you needed in the morning was the honest to god gripping panic of doing the walk of shame.

juyeon doesn't seem like the type to expect a lady to put out because he bought her dinner but you can never be too careful. he seems to notice your apprehension because he asks you for your address upfront, raising three fingers in an oath.

"i promise to conduct no funny business and i will take you home safe and sound, y/n," he says solemnly, and the way his eyes sparkle in the light of the moon is enough to make your resolve melt a little bit as you laugh softly.

"alright juyeon. since you promised no funny business," you quip lightly, entering your address on the navigation screen next to the steering wheel.

juyeon squints at your address, which is fifteen minutes away, before looking at you strangely. "are you sure this is the right address? my building is right next door! i would've seen you at some point, and trust me, i'd never forget a face like yours."

"uh, yeah, this is my address. i'm usually never home though, since i'm always either with jimin or my friends jaemin and jeno," you say, watching as juyeon sets the car in reverse to pull out of the parking spot. his arm lifts, as though he were going to put it behind the headrest of your seat to do the classic flirting move to reverse. he sets it back down when he sees you staring at the screen (which had a rearview camera feed on it), realizing that it would be dumb to try and make a move in such a cliché way.

"jeno? jeno lee?" juyeon asks as you guys pull out of the parking spot. you glance at him sideways, wondering if he were going to offer the same cautionary tale that jaemin and jeno had presented to you.

"yeah. he's one of my best friends. do you know him?" you ask, already presuming the answer.

juyeon is silent, as though he's weighing options in his mind. should he be honest with you? should he preserve your feelings?

"i know of him. i don't know him all that well," juyeon says finally, and you know that juyeon has decided to take the third option. neutrality. and while you're tempted on asking him to expand, you really don't know him well enough to do that.

so you just leave the topic aside and wait for him to start a different conversation.

he does soon enough, but you know that his heart isn't in it anymore. you engage in polite smalltalk until he pulls up to your apartment complex. you thank him for driving you and are about to step out of the car when juyeon suddenly touches your wrist gently, afraid to make rude or rough gestures.

you pause, half out of the car as you turn to him with a quizzical smile.

"i had a good time getting to know you today, y/n. and i know that it was just an excuse for those two to go on a date without making it weird but i really did have a good time getting to know you. i hope that i didn't make a bad impression at the end." his eyes are shining under the dim lighting of the few rooms that are still lit up in your apartment complex.

you smile at him gently, shaking your head to assure him. "you didn't make a bad impression. i had a good time getting to know you too."

you're ready to step out of the car once more when juyeon's fingers on your wrist wrap around them, this time a little bit more firm on claiming your attention.

"i - i want to see you again. i've honestly never connected this well with someone before. would you be open to that?" juyeon asks. you pause for a moment before giving in. how could you say no to him when he was looking at you with such big, brown eyes with so much hope hidden in them?

but even as you give juyeon your number, you can practically hear the bright red warning signs in your mind - and for some reason, jeno was the one screaming every single one of those signs.

"good night y/n," juyeon says, his smile every inch as heartbreakingly charming as the moment you knew he'd be bad for you.

you offer a tight, cautious smile in return. "good night juyeon."

+++

for someone who was fiercely overprotective of his friends, jeno had a strange tendency of self-sabotaging his relationships with them. not all of them - mostly just you. he didn't know what it was about you but somehow, he always just seemed to be saying the wrong things at the wrong time.

jaemin seems to think that it's because jeno has feelings for you (which he most definitely does not) (at all) (for real).

it wasn't as though jeno didn't like when you went on dates. in fact, he liked to think that he was rather supportive. it was just that you had a tendency to pick out all of the shittiest men in seoul to date and quite frankly, jeno hated it.

and you knew that. you'd been dealing with jeno's strange tendencies for three years now. he knew that you knew that he'd call you by next week and everything would be back to normal. that's usually how it went when you went on a particularly serious date on any level. strange set of coincidences that jeno only seemed to fuck up the worst right before or after a date you were raving about.

huh.

"i'm telling you jeno, you have got to tell her the way you feel about her," jaemin says, tossing a water bottle at jeno. they're sitting on the floor in front of the tv, watching money heist halfheartedly. terrible show to be their 'let's talk about our feelings' show but jaemin and jeno never could have a conversation like that without some level of violent scheming occurring in the background.

"i don't feel any way about y/n, jaemin. honestly, it's getting really fucking annoying that you keep saying that i do," jeno says, digging his chopsticks into his chinese takeout food. jaemin rolls his eyes, sitting down next to jeno with his own box of takeout.

"i swear to god. why did you call her then? why did you call her on her date last night?" jaemin asks. jeno shrugs, setting his food down before sighing.

"i don't know, okay? i just...you know what happened with juyeon. i just can't imagine her going through something like that," jeno says softly. jaemin looks at him before clearing his throat, forcing jeno to look at him square in the eyes.

"look, i know that you and juyeon don't have the greatest past but you have got to let her find her person. who knows! maybe juyeon's changed in the last three years. you literally don't know him anymore. and besides, this isn't about juyeon and you know it. you did this when she got with daniel, and then sunghoon, and then even doyoung." jaemin shakes his head, trying to get jeno to understand his own feelings. "you're blind to it but every time she actually feels good about someone, you somehow need to take a break from her. why?"

jeno doesn't actually have the answer to that question. why, indeed, is the question of the night.

later that night, when jaemin has turned in (or rather, announced that he was going to sleep, only to sit in bed and occupy their shared netflix account for hours), jeno pulls out his phone and searches up three words.

we need space.

he searches in his messages and cringes when he sees the number of outgoing texts that have space (as in the number of times he's broken up with someone over text) in them. he filters all of the other people out except for you and it pisses him off that jaemin is right.

may 2020. the first time jeno had asked you for some space, when you'd asked daniel to be your boyfriend.

august 2021. the second time you guys had taken some space, when you'd gone on your first date with sunghoon.

september 2022. the third time that you had had to take a break from each other. when jeno had introduced you to doyoung with his own hands.

realistically, jeno knew that jaemin was right. and with the evidence staring at him so incriminatingly, there was no way to refute the accusations.

but as much as jeno had dated around, he still didn't know what or who he was looking for. sure he was attracted to you as a person and your, uh, physicality - but that didn't mean that you were the one for him. and if jeno were to pursue something with you that made him realize that you truly weren't what he was looking for after all, not only would he be losing you as a partner but he'd be losing you as a best friend too.

so he continues in the toxic cycle of taking a break from you every time he feels as though his feelings are getting too high in his chest for him to contain them and never giving you or jaemin an explanation of why.

jeno knew it was wrong. he knew that his life would be so much easier if he just came clean and you fell one way or another on the scale of 'already dated' and 'haven't dated yet' like most of the girls on campus. but it was different with you.

it'd always been different with you.

so jeno rolls over, and goes to bed, dreaming of you and juyeon holding hands on your first date alone. he's never had such a restless night of sleep in his life.

+++

you know that you're being a bad friend to jimin when she's pouting at you swirling your straw in your macchiato instead of listening to her rambles.

"come on, y/n. it's been three days. you know that jeno gets like this - it's not like this is new right?" jimin says, covering your hand with both of hers, blinking at you curiously.

you smile and shake your head. "yeah. i'm sorry. this is supposed to be about you and i'm just getting in my head about this shit."

jimin tuts, eyebrows furrowing in mock anger. "that's not what i mean and you know it. i'll talk about jaehyun whether you're listening or not and you and i both know that. i just - i guess i'm not sure why you're always so hung up over jeno doing this when you know that he's gonna do it."

"you're right. it's not new. and i'm sorry that it keeps coming up when i really hate that he does this but i just wish he would talk to me instead of shutting me out every time that something like this happens. it's just him and jaemin cooped up and talking to each other for a week before they go back to being normal. and i get it. they're guys. they need a break and they need to do guy things and take a break from girls or whatever the fuck straight boys do. but this is getting out of hand and ridiculous."

but you catch yourself, shaking your head once more as you focus on jimin. "thank you for letting me get that out of my system. now tell me what you were saying about jaehyun. i feel like i've lost my best friend to some random guy for the past three days!"

jimin eyes you for a moment longer (and you know that she's not going to let this go) but decides to take mercy on you.

"well, jaehyun and i have been doing really well, honestly! we've seen each other every single day for the last three days - which isn't that hard considering that we've been having sex all day in every square inch of his apartment." jimin sees the scandalized look on your face before laughing. "don't worry, he lives alone and we've actually been going on non-sexual dates too. we connect in more ways than one if you get what i mean."

you slap jimin's arm incredulously, looking around the cute little café that you were sitting in to make sure that no one was listening. no one was, of course, given that it was 11:30 am on a monday but that was besides the point.

"oh my god. so are you guys going to make it official or what?" you ask, leaning forward on your steepled fingers. jimin shrugs, leaning back in her chair languidly.

"i don't know. i mean, i really like our chemistry and i like where this is going but i'm not going to label it. i'm definitely not going to be the one to pop the 'what are we' question - that's gotta be him," jimin says. "even though i am so incredibly head over heels for him. so i would like to be his girlfriend. for realsies."

she adds on the last part almost as an afterthought when she sees your unbelieving face.

"i mean it! i really want to be more than just a situationship but i really can't be the one to initiate that. i'm tired of always having to express interest in others. i attract; i don't chase," jimin says with a catty smile and you can't help but grin at that.

maybe jeno was really onto something. girl time was amazing. maybe that's why jeno needed some space from you.

"i agree. and you know what, i don't want to knock it but that honestly doesn't seem all that strange, considering that your location has consistently been showing that you're at jaehyun's place for the past 72 hours," you say, laughing at her mischievously when she returns the favor with a slap to your arm.

"i don't know. yeah. anyway. speaking of jaehyun, or not really him, but his friend - not the point! jaehyun mentioned that you gave juyeon your number? and that you've been kinda talking?" jimin says, and now it's your turn to blush.

"no - i mean, yes. i did give him my number but it's honestly not like that. he seems great and all but jeno and jaemin seemed really spooked when i mentioned him. i trust them when it comes to boys. especially with my shitty taste in them," you say thoughtfully and jimin can't help but agree with that.

she checks her phone and groans, starting to shuffle her things together as she prepares to leave. "this has been so good but i have to get to class and you know how much of a pain in the ass professor joo is."

you also start to gather your belongings, slurping down the leftovers of your macchiato. "yeah. i think that my early lunch break is coming to an end anyway. i've got a meeting at 6 pm but we're still on for dinner and drinks this friday, right?"

jimin nods distractedly as she checks her phone to see if jaehyun had texted her. he hadn't. in the past four hours. she clicks her phone shut and looks at you with a determined look in her eyes.

"yes. for sure. you and i have a date this friday and i don't want you to cancel, you hear me? and do not let those investors keep my baby from me like they did last time," jimin says, wagging her pointer finger at you threateningly. you roll your eyes, pressing a kiss to her cheek as the two of you make your way out of the café.

"i hear you. no more investors past 7 pm on a friday," you say, raising your hands in surrender when jimin squints her eyes at you. she side hugs you before checking the time once more (therefore realizing that professor joo wasn't above calling her out in the middle of class) and scurrying off to snu, a block down from the café you were previously in.

you sigh, shaking your head fondly as you turn in the opposite direction to head to work.

+++

turns out, friday seems to be a very popular night. not only do you have back to back meetings from 4 pm to 7 pm, but juyeon and jimin have texted you multiple times to confirm or (try) to make plans for friday night.

and honestly you didn't really want to go out. in between the radio silence between you, jeno, jaemin (who only really communicated in really stupid tiktoks back and forth), juyeon's suave maneuvering you into agreeing to a raincheck to saturday for the date, and jimin lamenting the fact that jaehyun hadn't brought up the 'what are we' conversation, there was so much going on.

all you needed were your friends, chinese takeout, and a little bit of jane the virgin. or other soapy dramas to take your mind off of everything.

but you had promised jimin and you'd be damned if you were going to bail on your friend when she was already not feeling well.

and besides, you refused to be a corporate slave who canceled on her friends because she was married to her job. that's not why you had chosen this job. and that's definitely why you had decided to reject pre-med as a sophomore in college.

so you find yourself taking shots with jimin in her kitchen and...jaehyun and juyeon.

when you had walked into jimin's apartment with nachos and shooters of pink whitney to pregame, you really weren't expecting to be face to face with juyeon - or jaehyun, honestly, given that jimin had been so heartbroken over the fact that jaehyun hadn't initiated the conversation yet.

not to mention the fact that she had made sure that the two of you were going out in the first place because of the whole jaehyun fiasco. so when you come face to face with the last person on the planet who should be in jimin's apartment, you're more than a little confused.

"oh, hey y/n. long time no see," jaehyun says with an easy smile, dimples showing that he had no clue that you knew that your best friend was waiting on a kind of serious conversation with him. you manage a tight smile before pulling shooters out of your purse, putting all four of them down on the counter in front of you.

"yeah. i thought it'd be a little longer though. jimin, i thought we were having a girls night?" you ask, eyes flashing at her when you turn out of view from jaehyun and juyeon. jimin just shrugs helplessly as juyeon steps in.

"don't blame her. i was the one who asked if we could tag along for the night. i promise we won't cause any trouble," juyeon says, and you turn to look at him, only to see him looking straight at jaehyun. his eyes dart between jaehyun and jimin before finally landing on you and you take the hint.

"oh. no worries. yeah, no worries at all, actually. hey, you know what i actually wanted to confirm something about tomorrow's plans with you if i could steal you for a couple seconds?" you say, leaving no room for denial as you wrap your arm in his and walk the both of you to the balcony, closing the door behind you.

"thank you for understanding - jaehyun wants to talk to jimin today about making things official but he's been so nervous about it that he's been putting it off. i figured that it would be better for me to come with him to make sure he doesn't chicken out. and catch you guys before you leave so that he doesn't sit and ferment in his feelings any longer," juyeon explains slowly, sure to refrain from turning around to see how things were going inside.

you lean over the metal bars of the balcony, the cold sinking into your skin in a refreshing way, the april air finally warming up enough to go out without needing a literal winter jacket.

"ahh. good idea. don't tell her i told you this but she was worried that he really wasn't into her," you say. juyeon snorts, a sound that's almost unbecoming from a man so handsome.

"isn't into her? he's head over heels for her. i don't think it's taken him more than thirty minutes to get into a relationship with someone if he wanted to. the fact that he took over a week to figure out his feelings means that he's serious. more serious than i've ever seen him." juyeon seems thoughtful as he trails off, letting his words sit on his tongue in a way that almost feels like he can truly feel the weight of the words.

"hm. or is just unsure of how he feels," you say, and juyeon looks at you strangely, turning so that he was leaning on the railing, his gaze fixated on you.

"are you really that cynical about men?" he asks chidingly, and you shrug.

"yeah. i mean. i don't know. i'm best friends with two of them so i know first hand how fucked up men can be. trust me, i pray to god every day for more patience before i fuck jeno or jaemin up for good," you say, and you can feel juyeon's presence grow cold at the mention of your best friends.

when you look at him though, he has nothing but warmth in his eyes and he smiles at you. "i will admit that there are a lot of messed up things that guys have done but it's not fair to categorize all men due to the faults of a few."

"uh-huh. and when men turn into heartbreakers after getting fucked over by one girl...it's okay?" you say, raising an eyebrow and you can feel juyeon trying to physically retract his statement.

"no. no. it's definitely not okay to hurt other people because you've been hurt. but give us some credit, okay? some of us are trying our best," juyeon says, and you watch as his eyes fall to your lips before dragging them upwards again.

"some of us are just trying to find our other half."

you're silent for a moment, and the moment is all you need to push off of the railings and turn to juyeon with a sad smile. "look juyeon, you're a great guy and i hate to nip things in the bud - especially with someone i get along so well with. but my friends are the most important people in my life. so i don't know what happened between you, jeno, or jaemin but i know that if it really came down to it, they take precedence."

juyeon nods, like he'd been expecting you to say as much. how, you don't understand, given that your reasoning had come out of pretty much left field. and for no real reason too. but men are predictable, easy to read, and all it takes is one moment to understand their intentions.

"yeah. i know. i figured you'd pick them. not that i'm trying to guilt you for that or that i expect you to pick me or anything but i still tried my best, you know," juyeon says casually, giving you a thinly suppressed heartbroken smile. you melt slightly as you turn to him, giving him a half shrug.

"i'm sorry. i'm sure your other half would be so lucky to have you," you say gently. you look at your phone, where jimin has texted you saying that she's going to have to bail on girls night as her and jaehyun had decided to stay in for the night. juyeon seemingly gets a similar text because when you look back inside to the apartment, jaehyun is holding hands with jimin, who uses her free hand to wave sheepishly at you as they recede backwards where the bedroom was.

"i guess we've overstayed our welcome," juyeon says with a laugh, opening the balcony door as the two of you make your way back inside to grab any personal belongings and leave before you witnessed something that would end up scarring you forever.

you eye the shooters and then exchange a look with juyeon.

“i know we’re not - whatever but honestly, i think that you’re good company and this kind of night doesn’t deserve go wasted,” you say, grabbing the shooters and juyeon’s hand and dragging him out of jimin’s apartment when you hear the very telltale sign of a bedroom door shutting down the hall.

juyeon takes one look at the shooters in your hand and the glint in your eyes before taking the two of the little bottles you offer to him.

“i can’t believe i’m doing this right now,” juyeon mutters under his breath, but his smile is lighthearted.

“what, grown men can’t drink pink whitney?” you ask, throwing a shooter back and immediately regretting the fact that you don’t have chasers with you. you may not be an amateur on the night scene but alcohol still always needed a chaser.

“no,” juyeon says, knocking back both of them a little too smoothly. “i meant taking shots with the girl who rejected me in front of her best friend’s apartment where her best friend and my best friend are fucking.”

you look at him, searching for any sense of genuine discontentedness but the way that juyeon’s eyes curve into teasing crescents convince you otherwise.

it would be so easy to choose him. so incredibly easy. but jeno’s face flashes through your mind and you find yourself taking a step back, shaking your head when juyeon looks at you questioningly.

“to the club!”

+++

there are two things that you learn about juyeon by the time you’re another two shots deep: a) he is an absolute gentleman - not just to you, but to the other people around the two of you as well. b) he is a very flirtatious drunk.

in fact, he manages the very big, very linebacker looking bouncer to let him into the club even though his name wasn’t on the list with nothing but a charming smile and an absolute inability to keep from flirting with everything and anything in sight.

which is funny to watch, especially from the other side of the bouncer, because every time juyeon says something particularly risqué, you can see the bouncer’s ears go bright red before he finally relents and lets juyeon in.

but it’s somehow less funny when he’s using those lines on you. it somehow makes your head dizzy and it makes you forget why you turned him down in the first place. you’re half-convinced that this had been juyeon’s plan all along. to turn on the charm to the max so that when you’re under the lights (that honestly might invoke epilepsy; why the fuck were they flying around the place like that), you forget all about jeno.

it’s a bad decision, you repeat to yourself as you watch juyeon make his way through the crowd to where you’re standing in an isolated, somewhat calmer corner. jeno and jaemin warned you against him for a reason. protect your peace, y/n.

and even while you repeat that to yourself over and over again, when juyeon’s hand holds yours precariously as he pulls you into the growing mess of bodies, you find it harder and harder to convince yourself that that was the truth. god, he looks good.

his hair has fallen messily across his forehead, contrasting the way it had been carefully gelled back before. he’s rolled up the sleeves of his button up to reveal his forearms, and you feel no matter than a man as your eyes trail the depths that planes of his chest promise from where they peek out of his half unbuttoned shirt.

you’re vaguely aware that there are various people waiting for you to either make a move or to push him away once and for all. it felt like every single person in the club was fixated upon the two of you - do you want him or not? because you’re holding up the fucking line. for you and your friend.

and so you take the plunge.

you move his hand from where it was innocently resting on your wrist and place it on the small of your back, smiling when juyeon takes the hint and draws you closer to him so that your chest is pressed against his.

“hey beautiful,” juyeon breathes as he looks down at you, almost in disbelief. “what are you doing here?”

you know, even tipsy, that he’s looking for a real answer. and you don’t want to play him - you don’t want to add to the list of heartbreak.

“i’m looking for someone to keep me company tonight,” you say and look up at him through your lashes, a coy smile playing on your lips when juyeon’s breath falters as you do so. “just for the night though. you know anyone who might interested?”

juyeon pulls you impossibly closer and you register the copious amounts of men (for you) and women (for him) that are turning away from the two of you, more than a little disappointed.

“yeah, i might know someone.” 

and with that, he spins you so that your back is pressed against his front, his arms caging you in protectively when he sees that a man is looking at you like he genuinely wants to eat you up.

you can feel your self-control slipping further and further away from you as the two of you just let the music fill you up, forgetting about your inhibitions as long as you had this music and him.

it’s too perfect though, and you realize as much when you make eye contact with jeno fucking lee across the club. right before he dips his head to whisper in some girl’s ear.

jaemin is right next to him, his arm laying casually on another girl and you can see the sheer panic in his eyes when he sees you, and then the confusion when he realizes just who you’re pressed up against. you watch as he leans over to whisper (yell; you’re sure that no one can whisper in an establishment threatening to break the sound barrier) something in jeno’s ear but he’s firmly shut down when jeno waves him off.

you scoff at that, turning around the pair of you around so that juyeon’s back was to the two idiots that you call your friends, now facing the dj booth.

the song switches to a much more upbeat song that you don’t recognize and you take it as your cue to push any and all thoughts of your friends out of your mind. you choose to give no apologies for the way that you spend your time - especially if your friends chose to give you no explanation for their behavior.

if they didn’t need to explain themselves, neither do you.

and it works for a while. for a while, all you can think of is the warmth that fills your body. from the alcohol, the heat of juyeon’s body pressed against yours, or even the excitement of the atmosphere; all if it is just so intoxicating.

you forget all about the fact act jeno and jaemin are just a few feet away, actively avoiding you (and doing a poor job of doing so) until juyeon spins you around, looking deep into your eyes in a way that makes you feel, heat rising to your cheeks as you watch his lips move.

“i know that you don’t want - honestly, whatever it is that you don’t want - but jeno and jaemin are here and you haven’t pushed me off of you. so i’m going to shoot my shot for one last time, y/n. and if you reject me this time, i think that we should go our separate ways,” juyeon says, his voice soft and gentle and yet somehow, you can hear every word he says with perfect clarity. 

you honestly don’t know what to say. juyeon had caught you in a bad moment with jeno and jaemin. more specifically, jeno. you didn’t want that to cloud your judgement though. you had known juyeon for a total of maybe a week. you had known jeno and jaemin for years and for those years, their opinions on the men in your life had very rarely been wrong. 

and yet, the boy that they had warned you against was pressed up against you and those two were on the other side of the club, arms wrapped around girls you knew they would forget about by the morning.

you sigh, stepping back from juyeon, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation making you sober up more than you want to. you hear the beat drop to ‘kiss me better’ by rihanna in the background building up and it seems like everything in the universe is just pushing you to give juyeon a chance.

but juyeon understand what you mean when you step away from him and he gives you one last, longing look before smiling, gently tugging you forward so that the two of you can make your way to a less crowded area.

“you wanna go home?” juyeon asks. you know that he’s asking for his own sake, almost as though he was asking for permission to get with someone else to nurse him through his rejection if you wouldn’t. but he’s a gentleman and he wouldn’t leave you for the wolves and so he asks you if you want to go home instead.

“yeah. i want to go home.”

juyeon nods, already pulling out his phone. “let me call you an uber. and y/n? i’m not upset. i’m just glad that i know i did everything i could. jeno’s a lucky guy for you to care this much about what he says and thinks.”

you want to disagree with him. he’s my friend. of course his opinions matter. sorry. it’s not personal. i actually liked spending time with you.

but even as these thoughts battle in your mind, you find yourself unable to say any of the words out loud. 

jimin was your friend but that stopped you very rarely from doing whatever you wanted to do in the end. jaemin would often yell at you for your terrible affinity for working yourself to the bone and you brushed his concern to the side every time. but it was different with jeno. it had always been different with jeno.

you’re too drunk to think about the implications of any of that though so you just smile once again, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to juyeon’s cheek.

“you’re so good, juyeon. regardless of what anyone says.”

and with that, you step into the uber that has reached the club in record time and head home.

+++

you’re not surprised by the text you get from jimin in the morning. or the one from jaemin. in fact, there are only two texts that surprise you when you manage to finally look at your phone with clear enough eyes.

jiminy cricket: OMG i’m so sorry abt last night love!! heard you went out w juyeon tho ;) we need to debrief fr

jaejaeminna: sorry i didn’t get a chance to say hi before you left

juyeon lee: did you get home safe?

ur mom (jeno): can we talk?

you respond to jimin with a quick for sure, girlie! before stepping into the shower, electing to ignore the rest of the messages in your phone. your roommate, jessica, a girl that you barely interacted with, given that she was usually at her boyfriend’s place or you were at jeno’s or jimin’s had kindly left extra pancakes that she had clearly made before she dashed out of the house.

you munch on them slowly, sending her a message of profound gratitude as you try to digest the events of last night (as well as the delicious pancakes), making sure to tousle your hair every so often to get it to dry faster.

first, jimin and jaehyun had clearly made things somewhat official (or at least were on the same page) which meant that you probably wouldn’t have to try and help jimin decipher what that entire situation was. a win, really. second, you and juyeon had gone clubbing together and had shared more than one or two intimate moments. third, you shot him down once and for all. fourth, he still called you an uber and made sure you made it home safe. fifth, you saw jeno and jaemin at the club and neither of them said anything to you.

this was officially the longest that you had gone without speaking to jeno - or even jaemin. 

even the stupid tiktok’s had faded away to nothingness by the end of last week from jaemin, which meant that something was so incredibly wrong, it wasn’t even funny.

also, jeno never said can we talk. 

it was usually a much more casual wanna get chinese? or even a bring your stupid ass over here cause jaemin misses you. that was more his speed in his form of apology or trying to make it clear to you that the two of you were back to normal now. he’d never acknowledge the two or three days of radio silence, electing to just pretend that they never happened in the first place.

so going from not talking at all to suddenly such a loaded question was new and kind of surreal for you. not to mention that jaemin’s last text to you was also indicative that something was seriously off between the three of you. the text before that had been a tiktok of a man sitting in a car yelling, “it’s the way you act!” and now it was that he didn’t say hi at the club.

you sigh, debating all of your options carefully. 

you were obviously going to have to talk to jeno about the situation at some point. and honestly, you were going to have to have a serious conversation about the fact that he would do this every so often because it’s getting way too much for you to handle. it wasn’t as though you were doing something wrong - jaemin would call you out on your behavior, even if jeno didn’t. 

you were left to decipher what exactly it was that had jeno in such a pissy mood and you would have to try and figure out what it is on your own because he’s a grown man that doesn’t know what communication meant. for someone who always warned you against the toxicity of men, he was doing a pretty great job of showing you exactly why to avoid them. 

pushing all thoughts of jeno and everything else to the side, you decide to take the day as a self-care day for yourself. lord knows that with everything you had going on, self-care was the one thing you desperately needed. of many things, really, but taking a walk and soul food was going to have to do.

you’re just putting on a face mask (one of the korean ones that you had had to sell your left foot to pay the shipping for) when your doorbell rings and you hate the way that you already know who’s at the door even before you step to the entryway, where the monitor is to see who is buzzing for you.

you’re greeted by jeno’s face, alone, looking worse for the wear as he ruffles his hair, shifting from foot to foot as he waits for you to either let him in or at least press the intercom to speak with him. you’re trying to make a decision and you know that decision, as trivial as it seems, would be what would set up your friendship with him in the future.

were you really going to give him another chance? even as he continued to mess up this hard?

you don’t say anything in the intercom but the faint buzzing noise that echoes in the monitor is response enough as jeno opens the door that has opened once you pressed the button, effectively solidifying your decision.

he was jeno. your jeno. you couldn’t just not listen to what he had to say.

the time that jeno takes to make it to the fourth floor where your apartment was seemed to have stretched on for eternity. you weren’t sure the last time that jeno had been in here (last weekend) but suddenly everything in the apartment was just too messy.

you panic and rush to clean everything in sight before you pause awkwardly. this is just jeno. the same boy who had come over and thrown up on your birthday after drinking too much at your party. the same boy who would be sitting in his room screaming into his headset as he played video games, having no regard for you and jaemin spending quality quiet time together. 

and he was also the boy who asked for space when you needed him the most.

so you put down your weapon of choice (a swiffer mop) and wait for the eventual knock at the door that finally comes about a half second later. you take a deep breath before opening the door, coming face to face with your ‘best friend’ of the past three years. 

the little monitor had done the damage little justice. the eyeballs under jeno’s eyes were deep and purple, with his cheekbones protruding a little more than you remember them to, and his gaze deep and sorrowful. 

but somehow, you could look past all of that because your gaze is caught by something else - the purple and very telling hickey on his neck. he’s clearly made an attempt to cover it up with what you assume is whatever foundation you might have left at their place on the nights that you’re too lazy to come home before work. the attempt isn’t all that successful, given that your foundation is about three hundred shades too dark for his skin (which is as pale as a ghost around this time of year) but you appreciate the effort.

not really.

jeno looks uncharacteristically shy as he stands in the living room, having switched out his shoes for his slippers that he bought specifically for your apartment once him and jaemin started coming over more often. they usually fought over ‘jeno’s’ slippers (they had peaches on them while ‘jaemin’s’ had ducks) but jaemin usually conceded to jeno.

usually, he’d be sprawled out on the sofa with little more than a half-hearted ‘hey’ and bags of chinese takeout on the kitchen counter but you see none of that now. now, he looked like a lost puppy, shuffling awkwardly to stand next to the couch.

it would almost be funny if it weren’t for the fact that the two of you haven’t spoken in a week. or the hickey.

“has it ever occurred to you that we might act like more than friends?” 

the question is sudden, breaking your nostalgia and bringing your train of thought to a screeching halt.

“excuse me?” your voice is calmer than you thought it would be in your head as you spin on your heel to look at jeno in the eye. he licks his lips, a nervous habit that he’d picked up from you, but his eyes don’t shift from yours, decidedly steady. he’s thought this for a while, you realize belatedly. it was just a question of how long and what that really meant.

“i mean you leave your foundation at my place and i buy slippers for yours. i can’t stand olives but when we get pizza, i get olives anyway so that you can pick them off of my slices and eat them. you don’t know your left from right but you still drive forty-five minutes down and back to the bakery to get iced lemon poundcake every time i’m upset.

“i can’t stand it when you meet a decent guy for once in your life and i go off the radar but we - i can’t spend more than a few days away from you. so, i’m always showing up at your apartment with chinese food when the last thing i want to do is hear about you raving about your new date who has a job at amazon and wears real rolex watches while i’m still eating instant ramen and trying to get a grip on life.

“the worst part is that i think i’ve always known. even last night, i was falling into my old pattern of using people to get over you, y/n. in between trying to figure out why i couldn’t click with anyone else besides you and trying to figure out why i feel so empty every time i feel like you’re slipping away from me, i think i figured it out. sure, i hate juyeon because of who he is and what he’s done in the past but i hate him even more because he used to be just like me. and now he’s changed so much and become such a good person. the fact that he’s the bigger, better, older, stronger version of me with his life together freaks me out so much because what if you replace me with him? and then i lose the one person i think i’ve ever properly fallen for and one of my best friends all in one go? and it’s all so selfish but when i have ever tried to hide myself from you, y/n?”

your mind is spinning. jeno is heaving by the end of his rambling. you can’t seem to find your grip on reality. everything is just wrong. it’s all wrong. everything is wrong. what?

jeno lee. playboy extraordinaire. mr. couldn’t be tied down. the boy who came home with a new broken heart in his jar of hearts that he hid deep inside his mind so he wouldn’t have to think of the unintentional consequences of having an unavailable pool of love.

and here he was, standing next to the couch in the living room, looking at you with so much anger, confusion, and sheer love in his eyes that you’re almost upset with yourself that you hadn’t seen it sooner. had he always looked at you like that?

you don’t know what to say though. you can’t even tell if he’s still talking, by the way that the blood is rushing in your head like an unforgiving tsunami has broken loose. you can’t hear anything, much too preoccupied with your own thoughts to even think of listening to his. 

you vaguely register the fact that you and jeno are somehow sitting on opposite ends of the couch, a good entire seat away from each other. that was good, at least. you’re sure that your legs would’ve given out on you at some point if you had remained standing.

“why do you hate juyeon so much?”

the question doesn’t seem to faze him as much as you wished it would. what was it with men and not being stunned by the most random questions or thoughts you can come up with? it somewhat frustrated you that you couldn’t stun them with the same shock factor that they seemed to utilize on you.

jeno sighs, raking a hand through his messy hair as he struggles to come up with the right words to say. or honestly, any non-stupid words.

“juyeon was actually one of the reasons why i came to snu in the first place. he was kind of like my mentor - a guy that i looked up to a lot in high school. he was one of my older friend’s roommate so when i came to check out snu, he toured me around and showed me his entire lifestyle. i was a senior in high school back then and he was just a sophomore but i swear, i’d never clicked with someone that fast before.

“he’s always been super smart and incredibly charming. and back when i met him, as a stupid senior in high school, i thought that everything that he had was what i wanted. he had a new girl at his apartment any time he wanted and always seemed like he had the entire college wrapped around his finger.” jeno gets up, looking frustrated as he starts pacing back and forth between the walls of the living room of the apartment.

“long story short, i caught him making out with my girlfriend at the time over the summer between high school and college. and it all came crashing down. in hindsight, maybe i shouldn’t have hated him nearly as much as i did but the fact that i couldn’t see that he had no qualms of getting with anyone who wanted to get with him hurt me. everything i had idolized came crashing down when i saw the two of them.” 

jeno stops pacing, looking down at his hands, rough and raw from the biting winds outside. “it just - it just hurt y/n. and it made it so incredibly easy to just not believe in love anymore. and then i met you and you came into college looking for the one and it was just so hard not to believe in love. when you said you were going out with juyeon, it took me back to the darkest parts of my past mentally. ridiculous? weak? yeah. i know. but i couldn’t help it.”

“it’s not weak or ridiculous, jeno,” you say gently, finding your voice once more. “i’m just hurt that you didn’t tell me before. i mean, i thought i was your best friend!”

jeno laughs drily, a grating sound that tugs at your heart strings. “but he’s gone clean, y/n. he’s everything that i couldn’t be and so much more. he’s near perfect. i couldn’t stop you from finding ‘the one’ that you’ve been dreaming about since i’ve known you. even if that meant that i finally had to let the past go. even if it meant that i had to give up on being able to love you.”

you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. “jeno…”

jeno shakes his head, looking at you with watery eyes, dragging his red hands across them roughly. “stop. i don’t need pity. i just…i just wanted clarity. have you always thought of me as a friend? was i making up everything in my head? did - did i imagine that we could’ve had something this whole time?”

you’re at a loss for words. jeno wasn’t wrong. you’d gone to the ends of the earth to make jeno happy. any time he was upset, you’d drop everything to go get that goddamn lemon cake. you couldn’t go more than a week without him. even if the entire world went to shit, you’d always thought that you and jeno would go down together, fighting side by side. if it really came down to choosing between your friends, some part of you knew that you’d always choose jeno before jaemin or jimin.

and some part of you wonders if you’d always had that much affection for him.

“i don’t know,” you say honestly. jeno’s face falls, and an awkward silence falls between the two of you, with his feet pointed to the door and muscles tensed to move. you know that if you don’t come up with the words to say something that’ll convince him to stay, you’ll have given him no reason to. you know he’s going to leave.

no matter what, you cannot lose jeno, you realize. he’s the one part of your life that cannot leave. he’s the person that buys slippers for your house. he’s the boy who can’t stand when he has to compete for your attention. he’s the man who’s shoulder you cry on when your heart suffers even the smallest scratch. 

he’s your jeno.

“i don’t know,” you begin, rushing to continue when you see jeno’s crestfallen expression. “but it’s all so sudden, jeno. you’ve been thinking about your feelings for a long while. i’ve honestly never considered the possibility of - of us being more than friends. of being together. maybe i’ve had feelings for you this whole time without knowing. maybe my ‘one’ has been you this whole time. maybe we’re better off as friends! i don’t know anything.”

jeno’s breath catches as he realizes what the hidden implication in your words is.

“but i’m willing to find out if you are.”

+++

after the enlightening conversation that you’d had with jeno that morning, you’d made plans with him to go on a proper date on wednesday, a day that you had nothing but boring meetings and jeno only had two classes. the two of you had decided to first go on the date and then try to figure out how you felt about each other from there. 

you’d also taken it upon yourself to curve juyeon once and for all. he was a great guy and you were sure that he’d be a great person to whoever he’s meant to be with but after reminding him that you were distinctly uninterested (and apologizing if you’d insinuated that you wanted to see him as an anything after that night), you’d deleted his number and all thoughts of him from your mind.

jaemin had been equally easy to make up with. you understood - after all, jaemin was jeno’s friend first and foremost. even if he didn’t necessarily agree with jeno and his tendencies, being his friend first meant that he had to prioritize jeno and his feelings. he was relieved to hear that jeno had finally grown the balls (verbatim) to confess the painstaking secret that he had been holding onto for the past three years.

“three years? he’s liked me since he met me? and you never said anything, jaemin?” you say incredulously, thanking the barista with a quick smile before grabbing your coffee, rushing to beat the morning sidewalk traffic as you walk to office.

jaemin’s face on your screen is mostly covered by his covers - a sign that he’s either skipping a class (ancient world history) or avoiding some work that he has to do. it was both, but he would concede neither to you.

“it wasn’t my place to say anything,” jaemin says finally, and you finally look at him properly through the little facetime box, watching him drag his hand over his face. he looks as though he’s aged about ten years in the time that you haven’t seen him - which was only a few days ago, technically. 

“and besides, you saw us at the club. did it look like jeno was exercising any type of common sense? clearly not. he wasn’t ready to listen to the truth, no matter who was delivering it. so there was no point in trying to make him to his senses,” jaemin continues, wrapping his blanket around himself a little tighter. “it didn’t help that his coping mechanism thus far has been to just run away from his issues, forget they exist, and then use a distraction to pretend that he was never affected by it in the first place.”

you sigh. this much was obvious to you as well. the day that jeno had come over, that had been one of the first things that you had confronted him about. he had presented a similar explanation then as jaemin was now but even if he didn’t say anything, you knew that was the truth.

“that reminds me - jimin texted me this morning asking if you were okay. have you talked to her since friday night?” jaemin asks and you groan. in all of this mess, you had completely neglected to debrief jimin and fill her in on everything that was happening.

“oh shit, i completely forgot to call her,” you say, swiping into the company building, smiling as you pass a familiar face. “i’ll talk to her tonight.”

“yeah. she seemed kinda worried. apparently juyeon told jaehyun that you two had cut it off for good and told him about you seeing jeno and i at the club. i guess jaehyun went and told jimin,” he says sullenly. you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

“just because you’re the only one getting no action doesn’t mean that you have to be jealous of jimin,” you say.

“no - what? no! it’s not that. i’m single by choice, thank you very much. i could have a hundred girls lining up for me if i wanted,” he says, clearly miffed. you stifle a laugh; it was so easy to rile men up. “but it’s like a violation of bro code. jaehyun knows that jeno doesn’t fuck with juyeon and he also knows that jimin is one of your best friends. like what did he think? that jimin wouldn’t tell jeno and i or that she wouldn’t talk to you about it?”

you blink, completely lost. “i swear to god, i think guys have more complex interpersonal links than girls do. i followed like maybe 20% of what you said.”

jaemin sticks his tongue out at you childishly. “whatever. don’t you have a job to do?”

“don’t you have a class that you’re paying thousands of dollars to take to go to?”

“touché.”

with that, jaemin ends the call but even as you finally sit down in your little glass office, you know that he’s absolutely not going to go to that class. it didn’t help that you’d taken the class last semester and had handed him your notes. at this point, he basically only went to take the tests - after studying your notes for maybe 10 minutes right before.

you’re about to call jaemin again to make sure that he actually gets up to go to class when there’s a knock on the glass of your office.

“y/n? someone’s ordered breakfast for you,” haerin, an underpaid and quite frankly undervalued intern at your office, says. she’s holding a little pastry box and a straw without any coffee. “the person who dropped it off said that he figured you’d already have coffee but you probably forgot the straw.”

you don’t even need to hear the name of your mystery courier boy because you already know who it is.

jeno.

+++

“he brought you breakfast? to your office?” jimin asks incredulously. you had called her soon after haerin had handed you the breakfast (with your favorite pastry inside the box). you seriously needed to hear a girl’s perspective on all of this, even if it was coming from the most romantic person you knew.

“yeah. i mean he’s done it before - like during my first couple of weeks of working, remember how stressed i was? he bought me lunch and dropped it off at the office, back when i was just an intern running around and didn’t have time to go and get it myself.” you blink, looking at jimin worriedly. “that’s not weird, is it?”

jimin ponders for a moment before shaking her head. “i mean you guys were best friends. i’d do it for you. but i don’t know. i feel like guys and girls who are just friends are more like siblings and i feel like girls who are really close are basically like a married couple.”

“why do you and jaemin always say weird shit that confuses me?”

“no - it’s like…like with a truly platonic set of girl and guy friends, they’re always doing sibling-like things. for example, i think i’ve seen you nearly give jaemin a black eye for taking a bite out of your pizza. but if i wanted a bite of your pizza, you’d probably honestly give me the whole slice. i don’t know, but it’s a dynamic that i’ve seen with all of my female friends compared to my guy friends. but you and jeno have never been like that.”

“i have most definitely tried to fight jeno over pizza. i’m sure i’ve fought him over much less, to be honest,” you say and jimin shrugs.

“i’m not here to make you feel one way or another about him. your feelings are yours to figure out. but as an outsider looking in, even if you were to fight him about something stupid like that, it was because that’s how you guys talked to each other. it’s not like you’re actually going to rip that pizza away from him. in the end, if he really wanted it, you’d concede to him. you don’t really do that for siblings. it’s charged in a different way.

“i’d give up my life for my older sister. but if she even looks at me the wrong way, i’m ready to pull out her hair. or my younger brother? he genuinely gets pleasure out of making me have to redo my entire skincare routine because he switched around all of the labels. would he send me breakfast to my office just because? fuck no. would he give me his kidney in a heartbeat? hell yeah.”

jimin looks down before looking up at you once more. “and even if none of that was true, you don’t look at jeno like you look at jaemin.”

this startles you out of your own attempts of running parallels between what jimin was describing and how you and jaemin were or how you and jeno were.

“what do you mean? how do i look at jeno?” you say, your voice coming out shockingly soft and confused.

“you know how you were kicking yourself about not realizing how jeno looks at you? yeah. that’s how i feel looking at you looking at jeno. i didn’t want to say anything to you about it. honestly, mostly because i hated seeing you get down every time he would just disappear from your life. i don’t know that as your friend, i should be encouraging you at all. but he makes you more happy than i’ve seen anyone else make you,” jimin says. “and that’s reason enough for me to be happy for you. to tell you what you don’t realize yourself. even when you dated other people, you always looked at them differently than you looked at jeno.”

“how do i look at jeno, jimin.” it’s not a question and both you and jimin know that you know the answer to what you’re truly asking.

“you look at him like you’re finally ready to love. like you’re realizing again that maybe jeno was the one you’d been waiting for every time.”

+++

your first date with jeno had been a full course of a dumpster fire with a side of natural disaster.

after your (jimin induced) realization that maybe you’d actually had feelings for jeno longer you’d thought, you find yourself going through the day as if you were on autopilot. jeno sends you breakfast on tuesday and wednesday morning as well, although he doesn’t mention a word of it when the two of you are texting.

at least nothing had changed there, thus far. he still sent you those stupid reaction memes that he found on pinterest and never failed to make fun of your typos in the group chat with you, jaemin, jeno, and now jimin. 

you hadn’t seen him since friday night but by the time wednesday rolls around, you wish that you had a little bit more time. you’re still reeling from your newfound enlightenment and some childish, hidden romantic side of you wants to bask in the uncertainty and the almost juvenile way that your heart beats a little faster whenever you think of the date tonight.

the two of you had decided that you were going to try and approach it as a truly romantic date, rather than the quick food runs that you were used to with him. which meant you were going to have to clean up and put on a dress - a sight that you’re sure jeno was truly not used to seeing after so long of you lounging around his apartment in sweats all day.

since this was the first proper date you were going on (you insisted that the date with juyeon didn’t count, since you had only gone with the intention of being a good friend to jimin.) in a good while, you’d called in the big guns for reinforcement. the only reinforcements you had, but that was besides the point.

“i still don’t get why you’re curling your hair. it looks so pretty naturally,” jimin laments, setting down the section of hair that she was working as she moves onto the next.

“i know. it’s kinda silly but i wanna feel cute - like i wanna look feminine and feel cute when i see jeno. it’s stupid and i swear it goes against everything feminism has taught me but i just want to feel and look like my inner girly-girl has been begging me to,” you explain, pouting when you catch jimin laughing through the reflection of the vanity mirror where you were sitting.

“baby, that’s not silly at all. and it doesn’t go against feminism to want to dress up and look cute! reminder: feminism is about empowering other women and helping everyone have the freedom to choose what they want for themselves. whether that’s dressing up cute or being a stay-at-home mom or being a working woman or some combination of all of the above and then some,” jimin says and then there’s a wicked glint in her eyes. “it’s also very feminist to get men to do your bidding, i think. and hey, if you have to put on a little black dress to do that, then i’m all for it.”

“you sound absolutely ridiculous,” you scoff, but a little smile tugs at the corner of your lips anyway. 

“speaking of little black dresses, you’re wearing a matching set underneath, right?” jimin teases. you swat at her with your free hand that wasn’t applying glitter to your inner eye. “i’m holding a hot iron, you psycho!”

“jimin! i’m not going to have sex on the first date. not that i’m above it but jeno is different,” you say and jimin unfortunately catches the underlying longing tone in your words.

“oh he’s different, is he? girl, where having you been hiding all these feelings for so long?” she says and you find yourself not being able to come up with a rebuttal. honestly, you didn’t know how either of you had been so blind to your feelings for each other. and suddenly, a cold rush of fear runs down your spine.

you twist in your chair, ignoring jimin’s protest that she was almost done with your hair. “wait. you don’t think that this is a mistake, right? like what if he thinks that he has feelings for me but it’s been the chase this whole time. or what if we just don’t click like we think we will? what if i lose my friend and the person that i think i’ve liked for longer than i’d like to admit in one go.”

jimin’s expression turns serious at that. “y/n, you’ve only had a week to figure out your feelings. it’s okay if you want to raincheck and then go on the date when you’re more sure of how you feel, if that’s what you want.”

“that’s not what i want. i think that i actually have liked him for longer than i think. it’s just been so hard to realize that because he’s always been with someone and i’ve always been waiting for the one. it just scares me to think that maybe the one that i’ve been looking for is someone who actually doesn’t think that i’m the one, you know? i don’t know if i could live with losing him.” you blink furiously, willing yourself to not let a single tear fall and ruin all of your hard work for the past couple of hours.

“trust me, y/n, if you’re sure about your feelings and if he really is the one, then everything will work out. have a little faith in the universe.” no sooner does jimin say this, the buzzer rings and you and jimin look at each other in panic.

“it’s still 5:50! he said he was coming at 6:00!” you exclaim and jimin rushes to finish your hair. “you have to distract him! i still have to put my dress on!”

“oh my good lord, i forgot about that. okay, you focus on getting ready, i’m running!” jimin says, cursing when she trips over the cord to the curling iron as she’s running to open the door for jeno.

you shimmy out of your pajamas in hurried movements as you hear jimin say that jeno could come up but that the elevator was broken so he’d have to come up by stairs.

“there’s no sign that says the elevator is broken though,” you hear jeno say as you’re caught in one of the legs of your pajamas, shaking it off wildly as jimin tries to come up with a random explanation on why exactly the elevator had no sign.

“yeah, it actually just broke. like right now. like it was so recent that they didn’t have a chance to put a sign up yet. in fact, i bet that we’re in a space-time pocket and time just moves faster for you and slower for people inside. maybe this building is narnia or something,” jimin says. the room is silent for a moment before you hear the sound of the elevator dinging and you wince, your movements no doubt mirrored by jimin.

you can already see jeno’s amused smirk as jimin says that the elevators must’ve been repaired by the aliens in the space-time pocket. but they were living in a speed that was faster than human senses.

you’d seriously have to buy her a drink when this date was over, you think to yourself as you struggle to zip up the back of the dress. you don’t think that you’ve heard jimin pull out that much utter bullshit in one breath before.

you have heard jaemin say something similar before though, so it made sense that jeno was neither fazed nor taking her seriously. not that anyone could take that seriously, anyway. 

you’ve finally managed to contort your body in the right position to zip up the dress when you hear the door open and jeno saying something to jimin.

“i know i’m early. and i know she’s definitely not ready. but i found these earrings in my apartment and i figured that she’d want to wear these. if i know her at all, she’s wearing black and she always says that she loves to wear these earrings with her black outfits.”

you open the door just slightly for jimin to slip into your bedroom and deposit the earrings in your hands. 

“how do i look?” you whisper, waiting for jimin’s reaction with bated breath.

jimin smiles at you and wraps you up in a tight hug, careful not to wrinkle the silky fabric of your dress. 

“like a dream.”

that works for you and you take a deep breath before opening to door to see jeno. it’s just jeno, you remind yourself. and although it’s not just jeno because you don’t know if he’s ever been just jeno to you, the words serve as a good reminder.

he’s jeno. your jeno. not someone to be afraid of. someone who’s seen every side of you and still wants to see more sides.

you walk into the living room, where jeno is sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone (tiktok, as you can tell by sounds of football highlights). there’s a bouquet of flowers, gardenias, laying across his lap and he’s clearly cleaned himself well. he’s wearing a black button down and rolled up the sleeves to reveal the tattoo that he’d gotten halfway through freshman year.

it’s a tattoo of jeno’s favorite quote from his favorite movie, chappie. you are made for good.

he introduced you to the movie early into your friendship, and had been thrilled when he realized that you liked as much as he did. in fact, the same quote that he had gotten tattooed on his forearm was the one that you had custom-made for your phone case. huh.

how long had you and jeno been doing things like this? since the very beginning, you balk.

“you look beautiful.” jeno’s voice is low, softer than you remember and your instinct is to counter him and say that you always look beautiful but he looks a little too sweet under the light of skylights for you to find it in yourself to do so. 

“thank you.” you lean closer, eyes crinkling into a smile when you recognize the cologne that jeno was wearing. “is that the cologne i got you in sophomore year?”

jeno nods and smiles with you. “jaemin said that my normal one was too…fuckboy.”

“the sauvage one? hell yeah, it is. i think that most girls have a trauma response to that cologne at this point,” you say, and suddenly everything is so simple again. it’s your jeno, after all.

“it’s a good thing i listened to jaemin, then.”

you cock your head and you’re vaguely sure that he means more than just his cologne choices.

“yeah, i guess it was.”

+++

pretty much everything from there went completely wrong. for one, jeno’s car (which was infamous for coming up with the most random issues at the worst times) had decided to blare with just about every warning known to man almost as soon as the two of you sit in the car. 

by the time that jaemin arrives to where the two of you had pulled over to take the car to the car dealership, jimin offering her car instead, the two of you were already about thirty minutes late to your reservation. 

it had taken a lot of persuasion on jeno’s end to convince the restaurant to let the two of you sit and eat anyway, although you were past half an hour late for your reservation. as if that weren’t enough, the restaurant refused to accommodate for your dietary restrictions (even though they promised that they did on their website!), causing you to only be able to order an overpriced caesar salad with maybe three vegetables and too much vinegar.

then, as you were leaving, you found out that the valet had parked pretty much on the other side of the country. and it was pouring rain. to the extent that your phone had gone off about three times with warnings that there was a flood watch in seoul.

which meant that jeno had had to book it to run to get the car and pull it up to the front of the restaurant, where you were waiting, shivering even with jeno’s jacket around your shoulders. and due to the layout of the restaurant’s front, you were forced to run in the run in the rain anyway to dive into the passenger seat of jimin’s car. 

and yet, even with all of this, you couldn’t help but laugh. the date was perfect. every time something occurred, jeno handled it with ease, allowing you to just turn off your brain and let him take care of everything for you. he would always turn to you with a silly smile and another story of how the two of you always seemed to find yourselves in the most unbelievable situations.

through all of this, you finally understand what you had been thinking that you wanted this whole time in your wait for the one. not someone who made sure that everything was perfect and that the date was always planned out to the t.

no, it was someone who made you feel like you were having a good time, even when everything was going to shit. 

you look at jeno, recounting some story about how jaemin and him had snuck into a wedding once to eat food after days of cooking instant ramen in their dorm in freshman year, laughing so hard that you could barely hear the pelting rain outside. and seeing him smile like that, feeling yourself smile like that, just because you knew that he was smiling, your heart finally felt at ease.

definitely not a platonic type of love, you decide.

“hey, you okay?” jeno asks, eyes trained on the road in front of him as he navigates to your apartment. “you seem kind of checked out.”

you smile, shaking your head. “yeah. i’m all good. i was…i was just thinking about how stupid i’d been to think that i’d been looking everywhere but right in front of me for ‘the one’ when i didn’t even know what i wanted.”

“yeah? what do you want?” jeno says, his grip on the steering wheel growing tighter as he waits nervously for your answer. you look at him and jeno has to fight himself to keep looking at the road when he wants nothing but to look at you and commit this vision of you to memory.

your glinting earrings and your twinkling eyes under the seoul night sky. your drenched dress and jeno’s jacket across your lap. your wet hair that still somehow looked sexy as you flipped it over your shoulder. your soft smile and seeing you finally look at him the way that he’d been looking at you this whole time. he wants to capture it all within his mind and never forget the way you were looking at him now.

“i want someone to make me feel like that even the stupidest situations were easy to overcome when i’m with them,” you say softly. 

jeno pauses at that, heart beating a little too fast to be good for him. a smile tugs at his lips, no matter how stoic he tries to look. “oh? does this mean you think this date was a success?”

“i think this date was an utter flop,” you say drily and jeno rolls his eyes at that. “but i think my date was pretty great. i’m not going to lie, i’m still a little hungry though.”

“i still can’t believe that they gave you a bowl of lettuce and charged like $30 for that,” jeno says, shaking his fist dramatically. “i’m going to write a scathing yelp review.”

“i mean i didn’t have to pay so that yelp review’s all yours,” you say before turning to him with a sly smirk. “aren’t you going to ask what i’m hungry for though?”

“what do you mean? what are you hungry for?” he asks, turning onto your street. 

“ramen. wanna eat ramen and go?”

jeno has to use all of his self-will to keep from hydroplaning as he pulls into your apartment complex. “y/n. you want me to eat ramen and go?”

“yeah. i meant that literally though. you wanna eat ramen and then maybe ramen?” you ask, batting your eyelashes innocently at him as he parks jimin’s car in your designated parking spot.

“uh, isn’t jimin at your place?” jeno asks, feeling his heart skip a beat when you shake your head no. 

“jaehyun’s apartment is like two complexes down so she just walked over. why? you don’t want to eat ramen with me?” you say, faking a sullen pout. jeno rushes to correct himself, resting his hand on your thigh gently.

“look, y/n, i think that you’re incredibly attractive and i really like you. but that’s - that’s my issue. i like you so much that i don’t want to make you feel like i was trying to get in your pants and then do something that you or i regret. and i know that you’re probably just saying that to get a rise out of me but hear me when i say that i want to take things slow. for your sake, not mine.

“i’ve been thinking about my feelings for so long and i’ve been thinking about how in love with you i am for longer than you might think. to me, sex would kinda just be the next step in taking our relationship to the next level. but i know you. you’ve really only been thinking about this about us for the past week or so. i don’t want to make you feel like you’re obligated to like me if we sleep together. i know that sex isn’t just sex for girls; or maybe it is but isn’t for you, no matter how much you tell me otherwise. and i honestly don’t know where i’m going with any of this but y/n, my feelings for you are true.

“i want to take things slow because if we take that next step, i want it to be when you’re sure. when you’re sure of how you feel for me. maybe i’m not the one for you, y/n. and as much it kills me to say that, it’s a very real possibility. you deserve someone who’d bring down the moon and gift it to you if that’s what you wanted. and i know that i would do that for you. but i need you to believe that too. wholeheartedly. i’ll wait for you for as long as you need. you’re my person, y/n. i’ve waited three years - granted, three very controversial years - for you. i’ll wait three more if that’s what you need.”

you’d said the ramen thing very jokingly, only half-serious about your proposition. but hearing jeno now, you’re happy that you had. you’re not sure that jeno would’ve told you how felt about you and just how deep his feelings ran for you if you hadn’t. he was right, of course. he knew you better than anyone else, after all.

so you kiss him on the cheek good night and open the passenger side door.

you’re about to close the door behind you, ready to bid him goodbye for the night when you lean down to say something to him.

“thank you for waiting for me, jeno.”

+++

turns out, romantic jeno is just like just friends jeno. mostly because you don’t think that you’ve ever truly been just friends. he’s quiet, teases you at any given moment, and listens to you recount even the most boring stories about work.

you went on a couple more dates with all of the formalities before slowly growing more casual with each other once more. neither of you had brought up the topic of physical touch after that night but lately, it was getting harder and harder to find places on jeno’s face to kiss besides his lips.

not to mention that you’d caught jeno’s lingering gaze on your lips (among other things) more and more often. so, just like everything else in your relationship, your first kiss was completely unexpected.

jeno had come over with chinese takeout, since the two of you (honestly, you had made the decision and jeno was just along for the ride) had decided to start the indiana jones franchise together. 

you didn’t know what it was. the tousled hair? the way his arm was casually tugging you into to his side, covering your entire side as you cuddled closer into him? the way he was only a breath away from you? the look in eyes when he tears his eyes away from to look at you with the sweetest gaze?

everything. all of the above. you lean up to peck him swiftly on the lips. 

jeno freezes, eyes going round as his entire face turns bright red. it was hard to think that just two months ago, jeno had been walking around with a girl on either side of him at a frat party, the promise of a good night hidden in his smile when he looks like a deer caught in headlights at the slightest sign of physical touch.

“did - did you just kiss me?” he stutters, and you shrug playfully, looking back the movie in front of you. he shifts you so that you’re facing him, unable to look away as he turns to face you.

“i thought we’re taking it slow?” he asks and you smile coyly.

“a month and a half of dating wasn’t enough to convince you that i actually like you the way that you like me, jeno?”

that’s all jeno needs to hear because no sooner do you say this does jeno dip his head to press his lips to yours, gentle and undemanding. he’s soft and careful, almost as if he were afraid that you were going to disappear if he chased after you too hard.

but you’d been waiting long enough and this was jeno so you pull away from him, a horde of butterflies settling in your stomach when he chases after your lips, eyes still closed, as if he couldn’t bear to part from them.

“jeno, i’m going to do something and you have got to tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” you whisper against his lips softly and jeno nods, opening his eyes so that you can see the look of absolute love and trust in them.

you get up and hook your leg over both of his so that you were effectively sitting on his lap, poised dangerously so that you could part from him at the slightest sign of discomfort. it never comes, though because as soon as you do this, jeno pulls you in closer so that his chest was pressed flush against yours.

“are you sure?” he says, confirming for the last time as you see the last strings of his resolve snap.

“god, jeno, i love you. now please just kiss me.”

his lips are pressed against yours the second the words leave your mouth, a little rougher and more insistent than last time. his arms are wrapped around your back and waist, eyes closed and you lose yourself in the feeling of being so close to him.

needless to say, that night had been a long night.

+++

“i look like an idiot,” your boyfriend complains, checking himself out in the mirror of your vanity anyway. you giggle, pressing a kiss to his temple so that you don’t mess up his make-up, carefully dodging the stray glare that he offers you.

“you look beautiful, jeno. and besides, this is for a good cause, remember?” you remind him as you make sure that your costume looks good as well.

“i don’t remember what me dressing up as a spandex wearing animated character has to do with changing the world, but alright,” jeno grumbles, shifting uncomfortably as his ‘uniform’ seems to cling to all the wrong places.

“you say that now but you and i both know that the moment you see those kids at the hospital, you’re a sucker. tell me you aren’t going to practice your mr. incredible in the car,” you say cheekily, and jeno is unable to refute that. ever since you and him have been dating, you have often dragged him to events such as these.

at first, they were rather simple things, almost as if you were testing the waters with jeno. for example, when the two of you went on a date to a zoo in the beginning of your relationship, you casually mentioned that many zoos that didn’t treat their animals with love and respect.

then, soon after, you asked him to sign a ‘take down unethical zoo practices!’ petition. and then from there, jeno found himself at a protest to rally for the rights of beluga whales. 

not that jeno had anything against whales (he actually came to be quite passionate about the mistreatment of them the more he went to these events), but the fact that you took the world’s issues to be your issues was simultaneously your biggest character flaw and strength.

and he loved you all the more for it.

“you know who you are?” jeno says, swiveling around in the chair to mean mug you. “you’re woo young woo from that one kdrama. and i’m that poor unsuspecting boyfriend who wants to spend time with his girlfriend but ends up at a whale protest anyway. that’s what cute girls like you and her do; you get our attention, make us fall in love, and then ba-bam! you use us as a bodyguard and backpack carrier at protests and rallies!”

you roll your eyes, leaning down so that you were now eye level with jeno, the both of you lovingly aware that the banter between the two of you was not a symbol of actual annoyance but rather, mutual appreciation. you, for having so much empathy. jeno, for being so patient.

your heart swells when jeno looks at you with such loving eyes, trust and admiration swimming behind his façade of annoyance. you lean forward, pressing your lips to his, involuntarily smiling when you feel jeno’s lips curve upwards as well.

he hums softly, pulling you close so that you’re practically sitting on his lap. gentle and strong. a little callous, but only so that the butterflies in your stomach seem to be rebelling against the confines of your stomach, as if they too want to be showered in the love of your kindhearted and wonderful boyfriend.

you want to melt into his embrace, as you usually do whenever you’re near jeno, but your phone buzzes and you sigh, pulling away from your boyfriend reluctantly.

“that’s jaemin. he’s asking, and i quote, ‘what the fuck are you guys doing i’ll whoop your ass if you don’t come soon i hate this fucking gru costume and the kids keep asking where you are’. you think we should get going maybe?” you say, raising your eyebrows at the series (of rather graphic) of emojis that depict you and jeno conveniently being pushed off a cliff.

jeno snorts at his best friend’s antics, his touch lingering on your waist as he leaves to go start the car. he waits for you to finish responding (with a threatening message of your own) before extending his arm without even looking, waiting for the comforting weight of you clinging to his arm as the two of you leave your shared home, walking into the buttery evening.

it truly couldn’t get much better than this.

[gammija]

idly thinking about an AU where Jon and Martin do manage to land in the same world, in roughly the same location, but separated by time.

Lots of time.

Jon arrives in Britain, in 1988. Martin also arrives in Britain, also in the 80's - the 1780s. Maybe it's the Web putting the pieces in new starting positions, maybe it's just happenstance. Who can say.

The first thing Martin does is look for Jon, of course. Unfortunately, he realizes pretty quickly that, if Jon is here, he's not anywhere near him. But Martin's not giving up that easily. If he's going to find him, he needs resources. So, with a knack for lying to wealthy old men, and using a minimal amount of historical knowledge, he makes a modest name for himself. Hopefully enough so that Jon will be able to find him, when he looks for him -

Because Martin hasn't been able to find a trace of him yet. Not as a real person in the world, and not as a reference in any old texts or stories about odd appearances of men with alien clothes, lots of scars, or piercing eyes.

A few years pass, without Martin finding any sign of Jon. Slowly, he has to come to terms with a few facts:

Firstly, that the Fears are definitely also in this world. In his search for Jon, he's come across far too many accounts that sound eerily familiar. Though they seem to have popped up in the world around the same time he did; He doesn't have any earlier records that consistently line up with the patterns he's familiar with. Which most likely means that they - he - are responsible for their existence in this world... Martin tries not to think about it.

Secondly, thankfully, this must mean that Jon didn't arrive centuries before he did, living and dying without anyone taking notice, which Martin had gotten more and more worried about. He wouldn't have arrived without the Fears being there too. No, if Jon is going to appear in this world, (and Martin is not going to think about the alternatives), he'll arrive in his future.

Maybe so far into the future that Martin won't even live to see him. In which case, however much he'd like to avoid thinking about it, Martin has to create something here and now. Something that will last beyond his lifetime. Something Jon will be able to find as soon as he looks for Martin, so at least Jon won't have to wonder what happened to him, will know that he did not arrive completely alone, that Martin did not abandon him.

Thirdly... through his search for Jon, Martin has amassed quite a little collection of esoteric and weird stories. And, though he did it 200 years in the future, he does have some experience running an organization that ostensibly researches the supernatural, which would also be a good way to keep track of any potential new Jon leads. He thinks of naming it after Jon, of course, but it's not like Jon is going to look for his own name first, is he? And it'd raise more questions than if he named it after himself.

Cue the bittersweet ending where Jon falls out of the sky on a sunny day in the middle of London, asks for someone named Martin Blackwood, and finds Blackwood Organization, a public collection of ghost stories dating back to the 1800. He is given a set of personal letters from the founder, to be hand delivered only to a man called Jonathan Sims as soon as he would walk in the door.

...Or -

After yet another few years, in which Martin has set up his organization and is part of a decent network of people with similar interests (though he dislikes most of them), he bumps into someone. Jonah Magnus. It's an incredibly odd experience, though in hindsight, it was bound to happen, considering the information he's after. Martin has the urge to kill him right there, but the man doesn't seem to be from the future. He's just a creepy guy. Younger than Martin, too, which is also weird. But he manages to shake it off, and doesn't see him again.

Though he does keep tabs on him. Seeing him has set Martin thinking. He's been getting older, and his modern constitution isn't faring great in Georgian times. The organization is doing okay, but he's not sure yet if it's really going to survive after he's, well, gone, which would defeat the whole point. With a few more years, could he make it stronger? Could he maybe even reunite with Jon in person?

Furthermore, with the Fears being now well established, it's only a matter of time before someone tries a ritual. No, Martin isn't going to try and do one first, that'd be really stupid, not to mention evil. He just has to make sure that the world actually survives for Jon to appear in it.

A plan begins to form. One he really doesn't like. But one that, the more he considers it, is very possible. He's quite sure now the Fears mostly operate on vibes. Sure, he's maybe not a full avatar, but through letting the public read stories about the fears, hasn't he kind of spread awful knowledge? Hasn't he seen a lot of terrible things in turn? The Eye was already fond of him, according to Jon.

And even if it were to go wrong... Martin would die in either case, and the only other person suffering would be Jonah. He can't find it in himself to feel too awful about that.

Jon falls out of the sky on a sunny day in 1986. After a short and panicked search, he walks through the doors of the Blackwood Organization, Hilltop Lane 148, Oxford. The receptionist greets him. She seems somewhat shocked as she does so, tells him to take a seat as she makes a call. He doesn't know what else to do, so he sits. The chairs are surprisingly comfortable.

A few minutes later, someone he doesn't at all recognize enters the foyer. He looks at Jon, stops, freezes. Jon stills as well.

The man is unfamiliar in every way. He's short, for one, his skin a darker complexion, hair curling in a way his never did. But those eyes, as soon as he sees them, he recognizes. Those are the eyes of the man he trusted to kill him.

[frannyzooey]

Short Days,Long Nights: 10

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (anxiety, pregnancy, grim mentions of childbirth)

Series Masterlist

A/N: thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reassuring me that this isn’t a terrible, no good, very bad piece of writing ❤️ and also, I wanna reassure you that despite the emotions in this chapter, my intention has always been a happy ending for these two. Don’t fret. ❤️

—

Something is off. 

He treads carefully down the path he’s followed for months, his boots leaving pressed imprints in the soft dirt and his eyes scan for signs of life. His mind is back in the cabin where he left you sleeping, your body curled into a tight ball along the edge of his form left on the sheets, and he tried hard not to wake you, though he didn’t have to be too careful given how tired you’ve been lately. 

Sleeping late, turning in early, naps in the middle of the day. You blame the heat, or the boredom, or the way reading makes you drowsy, but even he knows that’s not all it is. 

You’ve been distracted, quiet. Drawing into yourself more often these last couple weeks, he tries to recall if he’s said or done anything, to remember if he himself is the cause. It’s been a long time since he cared about what anyone else thought – definitely since he cared enough to want to atone for anything he’s done – but for you, he sifts through his words and actions.

He knows you so well by now. Knows every tell, every minute shift in your mood. More molecular than reading your body language, the air between you shifts and changes when you’re upset, your face betraying nothing to someone who doesn’t know you as well as he does. You’ve been hiding your face more from him lately, because he knows you must know it’s open for him like his is now open for you. 

The back of your head facing him in the garden, the peek of your forehead over the top of your book, the way you look at him like you’re about to say something, but when he gives you the space, you look away. 

Even at night, you hide your face into the soft crook of his neck to sleep.

He kneels to inspect deer tracks, his fingers brushing aside growth to follow their lead and heading deeper into the forest, the air around him cools under the canopy of trees. The woods are alive with sounds: bird calls, soft chittering, the rustle and slide of leaves, the crunch of his boots as they snap small twigs underfoot. 

Amidst it all, he tries to work out the puzzle of you; his bow held loose in his grip. 

–

Your hands shaking with nerves as you watch him disappear beyond the treeline, you pull your bottom lip into your mouth with a bite and scold yourself for not telling him about your suspicions this morning. 

Or yesterday.

Or the day before that.

You know you could probably keep your secret for at least a couple more months, but there was no point. Everything about surviving here depended on preparing; the sooner, the better, making all the difference between life and death. 

Your palms turn clammy, another rush of bile creeping up your sternum as you run out the cabin door before it comes pouring out into the grass and feeling shaky after, you walk over to the rocking chair on the porch and take a seat, letting your head fall forward into your hands. 

Being forced to confront the concept of your life ending more times than you would have ever imagined over the last ten years, you’d thought you’d be desensitized to it now… but this was a wholly different type of fear. Not so much the idea that you might actually die while going through with this, (which, over the course of the last few weeks has become a much more terrible, terrifying thought) but more the fear of doing it alone.  

Nothing to guide you, no one to help in case something went wrong. You knew that women had been birthing children in their homes for centuries now, many of them in the same exact position you were in – but they had midwives and neighbors who came from afar to help. Other women around them who had gone through it before, advice handed down from generation to generation. Reassurance in the form of knowledge. 

You would have someone, you reasoned with yourself, if you told him. Joel has always been there to take care of you, and you know this time wouldn’t be any different, but how much did he know about this? Even if he knew a little, that information was almost three decades old. 

Another small part of you felt, even though you know he would never mean to make you feel this way, that you let him down. As if you could stop the science of your body and it betrayed you, or that you compromised this entire setup by foolishly ignoring the consequences of your actions. The last couple weeks a brutal reminder that you have been somewhat romanticizing this possibility, that alone carried its own humiliation.

Now faced with the confirmation of it, you were ashamed. And scared. 

This odd mixture of feelings, just like the odd mix of sensations in your body, kept you from saying anything every time you had a chance. He wouldn’t be mad, you knew that, but your hormone addled brain kept conjuring images of his disappointed face and that was almost worse. 

You press your fingers into your eyes, liquid warmth seeping through the digits as you think and you let the tears fall, taking deep, shaky inhales. 

More than anything, you worried about fracturing the bridge that had been built between the two of you, especially given his past. He already lost one child, what if something happened to this one? His perceived failure almost ruined him the first time; a gaping, ten year wound that tore him apart and ravaged his mind and morals. Only now just beginning to heal, what will this do to him?

The thoughts are circular, never ending. 

Will he even want this? Are you unknowingly forcing him into something he’s dreaded? You know he knew the far away consequences of your shared actions, but will he hate you? Will he resent the burden you are? The one you’re carrying, for the rest of his life?

How will you care for it? How will you feed it? Is there enough food prepared for something like this? How will you do this alone? What if it gets sick?

The worries expand and grow, filling your head with a relentless noise that makes you queasy. You think about telling him as soon as he gets back, and a cold sweat breaks along your hairline, running over your limbs. 

Getting up, you lean over the railing and purge your nerves onto the ground below. 

–

Standing in the kitchen, his back is to you and you take a moment to study the broad width of his shoulders. The dark curls that edge around the nape of his neck, the strength held in his solid frame. Cleaning his gun, he’s recounting his day in the woods to you and you are trying so hard to focus on his words, but you can’t. Not while the worries from this afternoon run rampant in your head, clouding everything. 

Still, it’s the image of his back that convinces you to tell him: sturdy, solid, familiar. Those curls are the same you’ve felt in your hands for months: sliding between your fingers as you run through them at night, coiled tightly on the ground before they lifted into the air when you gave him a haircut last week, slicked smooth along his head after a swim. 

You hand wash the clothes on that back, massage the tired, thick muscles of it, stroke the tanned, freckled skin in the sunlight. Dig your fingers into the meat of those shoulders, curl your legs around that torso, feel its broadness underneath you when you straddle him. 

It’s guided you, carried you, the formidable strength in it has made this place a home, and the reassuring reminder of those things forces you to open your mouth. 

“Joel, I –” you start, and he stops talking, turning his ear in your direction. 

“Yea?” His attention is still on his task but he slows, and your gut churns with nerves and anxiety and new life. You take a deep breath and focus on his back; the one that you’ve been following for months, before you even knew who he was. 

“I’m pregnant.”

He immediately stills, his frame locking up as his hands stop what he’s doing. 

When he doesn’t move, you take a hesitant step closer, pushing through the urge to run into your bedroom and hide under the blankets. The air in the room is charged, your heart thundering in your chest and when you take another tiny step closer, he finally speaks. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, resting his hands carefully on the edge of the counter. 

“Yea,” you reply, letting out a breath and trying to ease the tension. “I mean, no test, obviously, but…”

He nods slowly, absorbing the information. 

You stare at the back of his neck, willing him to turn around, but when he doesn’t, shame and embarrassment begin to bloom. Starting in your chest, the emotions take root and your fingers find the bottom of your sleeves and twist into the fabric, the familiar tingle of heat growing behind your eyes. 

Even though you know that both of you had a hand in this, you find yourself apologizing.

“I’m sorry —“

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he turns quickly. 

“Hey — stop. No, don’t say that. Come ‘ere.”

Shortening the distance between your bodies, his face is a worried expression so thoroughly earnest that you step right into his arms, tucking your face into his chest. He gathers you into his hold, his familiar scent of sweat and cotton and woods soothing your nerves, and you lean into him, holding tight. 

“I told you, you don’t gotta say sorry. Not to me.” His arms squeeze tighter, his chin coming to rest on the top of your head. “I was just – I didn’t expect that. I was just thinkin’.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing these last couple weeks,” you admit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It’s just that I didn’t know for sure, and then I thought maybe I knew, and then I did know but I was so scared –”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Hey, it’s okay. S’okay.”

Those words, said in his voice, bring fresh tears to your eyes, not realizing how much you needed to hear them until they were spoken out loud. Only by him, the only person you would accept them from because if he says it’s going to be okay, you know it to be true. He hasn’t failed you yet. 

As if it only just occurs to him to check, he suddenly cups your face tenderly in his hands and makes you look up at him.

“You okay? You sick? How do you feel?”

“I’m….okay. I can’t tell if I’m more sick from the –” you stop short, unable to say the word out loud. Saying it makes it real and you aren’t ready for that yet. “I was pretty nervous to tell you.”

He says nothing, frowning. Searching your face for a moment, he nods as if he understands and brings you back to your place in his arms. 

“I’m not mad at you, honey,” he murmurs. “If anything, you should be mad at me. I’m just as much at fault as you are. More, even.”

Your cheek staying pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, you frown. “How so?”

“I’m older than you are. I know better. I —“

“I know how sex works, Joel. I asked you for it, and I’m just as guilty —“

“I’m responsible for you.” His hand tilts your face up, so he can look you directly in the eyes and the statement is said with a finality that closes your mouth. “I gotta keep you safe — and there ain’t nothin’ safe about this.”

You feel your face start to crumple, your chest heavy with the shared knowledge. 

“No,” you swallow, the edges of your mouth turning into something solemn. “No, there isn’t.”

His expression softens, his thumb stroking the fine hair at your temple and his voice softens too. 

“It’ll be okay, honey. I’m right here.” His hold on your face firms, his eyes silently willing you to understand. “I would never, never let anything bad happen to you. Not ever.”

You both know that’s not a promise that he can make, but the words are like a raft in a storm; you cling to them, holding on with every fiber of your being. 

“You understand?” he asks and you nod, the constant weight on your chest these last few weeks temporarily dissolving. 

Your nod reassuring him, he guides your face back to his chest and with the weight of his broad hand sliding soothingly down your spine, you loosen under his touch. 

Each lost in your own thoughts, the two of you stand there, wound tightly together. 

–

It’s been hours, and he still can’t sleep.

A light breeze catches the curtain and the fabric waves lazily, your body still beside him in the dark room. You took some soothing to come down from the confession earlier, and he stayed by you until you went to sleep: tucked you into his side on the couch, wound himself around you in bed, took you apart only after he got your okay. 

He lays naked, nothing but a thin sheet covering his form but it might as well be a weighted blanket with how his chest feels. It tightens and burns, a crushing pressure settling on top of it. Every breath becomes a pained struggle for air as he tries to stay still so you don’t wake up. 

He doesn’t know anything about this. 

Hazy memories: partial pieces of advice, parenting books and pediatrician visits and the day Sarah was born. Everything blends together in rapid succession: her sharp, bright wail, the team of doctors, her impossibly tiny body, featherlight in his hold. 

He pictures the same thing in this room, but instead of bright lights and beeping machines, all he can picture is blood. So much blood. 

Your face, twisted in pain. 

Your face, crying. 

Your pretty face, pleading for him to help you. 

He tries to pull in air, his hand coming to push against the plane of his chest as the anxiety floods and gathers under his sternum, catching on and coating the muscles there until he’s locked in place. A cold sweat breaks out over his skin and he can barely hear the rapid, shallow pants of his own breathing under the rush of blood through his ears. 

His vision tunnels, the walls of the room disappearing and self loathing creeps into his mind, as dark as the night outside. 

He did this to you. You wanted it, but he knew better. He was supposed to protect you. 

He closes his eyes tight and swallows hard, willing the panic away. 

If something happens to you, it’s going to be his fault. He’s going to fail you, like he failed her. Fail the both of you. 

Reaching out to grasp the sheet at his side as a means to anchor himself, he brushes the back of his hand against your hip and he opens his eyes, turning to face your back. Faced away from him, the soothingly slow rise and fall of your breathing catches his gaze and focusing on the pattern of it, he forces himself to match it. 

In and out. In and out. 

His hand splays over the slope of your waist, curving around your side and the warm give of your flesh reassures him. His vision clears, the softened edges of your shadowed form bringing him back to the room and the white noise filling his head fades, the tension in his chest slowly easing. He flexes his hold on you, his thumb sliding across your bare skin. 

You turn in your sleep, rolling over to face him and lifting his hand just enough to let you move, he rests it back on your side. His thumb drags across your petal soft skin, his eyes dropping down to watch and before he can stop himself, the back of his knuckles brush delicately against the natural swell of your stomach. 

He remembers the fear, but looking down at his hand, something blooms deep within that pit beneath his sternum. Something else, something that’s been lying dormant for years, but when he sees his hand against your bare stomach, it takes root and pierces through the surface of the panic.

Hesitantly, he lets himself feel those things, in the safety of the dark room. 

Anticipation. Joy. Happiness, contentment. Love, that he’d never imagined he’d feel again. 

He feels a version of it when he looks at you right now — a deeper version of it, a calmer one. A steady, anchoring emotion, one that he fought in the beginning but now has given in and gotten used to it. 

The love that he has for you planted within your body, taking root. 

His thumb drags over your belly button, and you shift in your sleep. 

“There’s nothing there yet,” you mumble, the words a soft slur in the darkness. “Go to sleep, baby.”

He hums lowly, his hand splaying to cover your stomach. Fingertip to thumb, it spans from hip to hip, but when you shift again next to him, he reluctantly pulls it away. 

Gathering you as gently as he can in his arms, he tilts his chin down to catch your mouth with his. Sleep warm and soft, you kiss him back and his arm winds around your waist, tugging you close. 

With your belly cradled between the two of you, he falls asleep. 

[new-revenant]

A So Called Tamaranean

Edit: Ao3 Link!

Danny falls through a portal leading to a world full of superheroes. Unfortunately, he happens to bare an uncanny resemblance to a certain race of aliens here-Tamaraneans.

So my post about Danny being mistaken for a Tamaranean is being seen by more and more people, so I’ve decided to finally post this one-shot I’ve made around the time I made the original post. I have no idea if I’ll continue this or not, I kinda just wanted to write about my little idea for a bit and figure out how to write Nightwing. I think he would good with kids. I also only refer to Dick with they/them pronouns because it makes it so much easier to differentiate who’s who when referring to someone.

☁︎

The last thing that Danny remembered was green. Lots and lots of green ectoplasm. And before that? He was trying to escape from one of the many dangers of the Ghost Zone. He couldn’t even see what it was, but he sure as hell could sense it. Both with his ghost sense, and by being beaten up by it.

He never meant to go so far from the portal, so far from his home. And he definitely didn’t mean to get hit right into a different portal.

When he woke up, he couldn’t sense any ectoplasm at all. Death and decay, however, he could sense. And smell. He mostly smelled burnt rock, just like all the other times he got slammed into the ground by ghosts. He really needs to learn how to dodge one day.

His eyes fluttered open, then closed them just as quickly as dust went right into his eyes. He had seen smoke and rock, just like he expected. He groaned, trying to push himself up, but fell in an instant. He was so tired. And yet, he could tell he was still in his ghost form. How could he still be in his ghost form when he had no energy left? He had no idea.

So Danny laid there, trying to think about where he could be and why was he stuck in his ghost form. At least he thought he was stuck in his ghost form as he usually turns back into a human when he passes out.

Then he heard something. Something other then the ringing in his ears. It was a voice, maybe a masculine sounding one, that had an “are you okay?” tone to it. Danny would know because he’d been asked that hundreds of times before whenever he’d gotten injured. Instinctually, he tried to say that he was fine, but all that came out was a whimper.

Then the ringing in his ears got quieter, and he could hear the stranger’s footsteps coming closer.

“Hey kid, are you okay?” Danny could finally make out the person’s words. His eyes fluttered open again, revealing the person to have black hair, a pale face, and what looked to be a long black sleeved shirt with some blue on it, and a domino mask.

Was he in the 18th century again? Wait, had he’d ever been to the 18th century before? Well he couldn’t be now, not with the striking blue the guy had. Pretty sure they didn’t have blue dye like that back then. Oh god where the fuck was he? He had heard from all his ghostly friends-mostly Frostbite and Clockwork-that the Ghost Zone could bleed into other universes and timelines. Danny really hoped that was not the case. Danny had to get up.

He was in so much pain, his entire body stinging. But he pushed himself off the ground anyways, like he always did. When he sat up he saw the stranger stretch out their hand to him. Danny hesitated for a moment, before scrambling away from them because he did not trust them one bit. Well, maybe two bits but nothing more.

He hovered a bit off the ground, a good few feet away from the masked guy. They looked surprised, and looked at him rather analytically. Danny looked back at him analytically as well. The person seemed to wear this one-piece suit with black gloves and boots, with the wings of a blue bird-like symbol on their chest going across his shoulders and extending to their hands. They were lean and muscular and could probably take down many normal humans in a fight. And Danny.

Danny only hoped that this guy wasn’t some sort of weird murder or something. Maybe they were normal for this world’s standards. Maybe he was normal for this world’s standards. Probably not to be honest.

And then Danny was taken out of his questioning by a question posed by the stranger, “Are you a Tamaranean?” they asked. They weren’t speaking English, Danny could tell by the way their mouth didn’t match their words. Hurray for ghost speak.

“May-“ Danny coughed, his throat sore, but it was fine, he’ll get over it, he always does. “Maybe I am, why do you want to know?”

The guy smirked, making Danny feel a bit uneasy, “You did answer my question back in fluent Tamaranean.”

“So I did, again, why. Do. You. Want to know? How do you know about Tamaraneans? Who are you?” Danny was so confused about everything in this situation and he thought he asked decent enough questions. He had no idea what theses “Tamaraneans” were but he’ll play along as long as he won’t get shot.

“I’m called Nightwing,” they said calmly, “And I want to know what you are because I want to help you,” then they took a step forward. Danny was not expecting this and instinctively shot at them with ectoplasm. Danny yelped, both in surprise that he shot at them and at the fact pain almost immediately shot up his left arm. He could almost feel the nerves in his arm burn. That’s not good.

And yet Nightwing dodged it easily, skillfully, and didn’t seem too bothered by it. In fact, they seemed more concerned for Danny’s well being.

“I’m not going to fight you,” they tried to talk to Danny, “And I know how to help you, I’ve met other Tamaraneans, Tamaraneans who have powers like you.”

Okay so these Tamaraneans could also shoot green beams and fly, duly noted. And not all of them had these powers. God this place was weird. Danny couldn’t care about how weird he was or how weird his world was, but this place just felt weirder.

“You have?” Danny asked in a whisper to put less strain on his throat, floating down to the ground, holding his arm. “Who?”

“Starfire and Blackfire for one, those two have powers,” Danny noticed them happily say Starfire’s name and the tone of distaste they had for Blackfire. So Danny had an idea for which of the two was probably evil. Not really because the guy he was speaking to could still be evil and not to be trusted.

Nightwing then started to list more names of Tamaraneans, which Danny tried to pay attention to so he could give a good enough fake name to them.

“So kid, again, I just want to help you,” Nightwing bent down to one knee, like every non-teacher adult does when they want to talk to a small kid. “I may not know exactly what happened to you, but you don’t have to be alone.”

Danny didn’t expect to feel so...touched. Maybe this guy wasn’t too bad. Maybe he should just tell the guy what he was-actually that could still be a bad idea. Danny didn’t know if they would just flip like a dime and turn around and try to rip him apart. Molecule by molecule.

“What’s your name?” Nightwing asked. Their voice and face was soft, Danny noticed, but their body seemed alert, just ever so slightly tensed, ready for combat on a moment’s notice.

“My name…” Danny mumbled, looking away from Nightwing to think. In a moment of panic and many racing thoughts, he was able to think of something.

“Nightgale,” Danny said, a mirage of a smile on his face, “A bit like your name, isn’t it?” He was somehow able to remember that his last name used to be Fentonnightingale earlier in his family line, and got the name ‘Nightgale’ from it. Thank you infini-map.

“Yeah it does!” Nightwing laughed, “Well, it’s nice to meet you Nightgale.”

Danny really should’ve expected them to stretch out their hand again. He really should’ve been a bit less on edge then he was at that moment. And yet he shot Nightwing in the face when they tried to outstretch their hand.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn���t mean to-oh no no no no,” Danny panicked, looking around to see where he could escape to and he was in a goddamn field with a city surrounding the entirety of the park. Danny just now realized that he had absolutely no idea where he was. He just shot his only hope at figuring out how to get home-probably, knowing his luck, definitely.

And yet Nightwing practically brushed it off. Yeah they stood up, stumbled backwards, swore in pain, and had to remove their mask for a quick second to rub their eyes, but then blinked a few times and seemed okay.

“Well that wasn’t as bad as when the other two did that,” Nightwing muttered in English, “Did the other two do that? Yeah probably. Anyways” -Nightwing switched back to speaking in Tamaranean- “It’s fine kid, you can calm down.”

So Danny did calm down. Mostly. Not really as he was still muttering apologies. His arm hurt even more now.

“I can ask Starfire to teach you how to control your powers,” Nightwing started. Danny has heard this spiel before, but this time he actually had a bit more trust in this random, and honestly somewhat terrifying stranger than he had with Plasmius. And Danny did not want to wait through it.

Danny grabbed Nightwing’s hand and looked up at them with the most pleading eyes he could muster. It worked as Nightwing’s face softened and they had finally shut up.

“Okay Nightgale, we’re going to go somewhere safe, then I’m going to get Starfire over to help you out, does that sound good?” When Nightwing asked that, Danny didn’t felt like he was being talked down to, unlike when other people said similar things. Maybe it was their tone.

“Where are we going? Where are we now?”

“Oh, right, I probably should’ve said that earlier. Well, for one we’re on the planet Earth, and right now we’re in Blüdhaven, New Jersey, the town I protect.”

“Protect?”

“Yeah, I’m a vigilante, which basically means I fight crime and protecting people who can’t protect themselves.”

Ah, now things started to make sense. This guy is a superhero. No wonder Danny felt oddly safe being with Nightwing. They just radiated safety-ness. Danny’s eyes lit up with glee, someone he could finally related to!

Even while slinking into the dirty, bloodstained shadows of Blüdhaven, Danny was skipping around Nightwing. He was in a weird place and situation, but he felt like a giddy kid. Nightwing moved with precision and grace that Danny wished he had.

Danny saw billboards and signs that seemed to mention other heroes as the two went. Random people calling out to Nightwing when they saw them, Nightwing sometimes giving them a little wave. Danny mimicked them, and each time the people gasped at him. Danny was able to pick up that these Tamaraneans that Nightwing thought he was weren’t common, so that’s probably why they looked so shocked.

It was nice, and for a moment, Danny forgot that he was a stranger to this world-that he wasn’t supposed to be here. This place was new and exciting, yet familiar all the same. Maybe he’ll stay a little longer, it’s not like he could just will himself to leave anyways.

For now, Danny was just a kid, exploring a world similar to his own, yet alien at the same time.

[3liza]

he was an asshole so I never spoke to him again but my high school boyfriend had some sort of very obvious gigantism or Marfan syndrome, dude was 6'10" (208.28cm) and had the typical Marfan features including being nearly blind, short torso, long face etc. he wasn't emaciated but was very thin and immediately identifiable as "guy who had something going on with his growth and development, definitely not normal" even to a casual observer. but I was the person who googled all this and found out whatever his deal was actually had a name, he had been raised to just deal with being blind and hitting his head on stuff and think it was normal. naturally I assumed his parents were also tall and didn't know what was going on.

so at one point we went to his sister's wedding and I met the rest of his family. both parents were about 5'7" and completely normal. his sister was easily 6'2" and had the exact same Marfan symptoms. I was only about 15 so I didn't really have the status or experience to ask anyone what the fuck was going on, but I knew for certain that the BF had no information about why he was seven feet tall and disabled, and his sister didn't say anything, and his parents didn't say anything, I don't think they were adopted, and he wasn't one of those kids who was born at home and raised off the grid or anything so he MUST have seen a pediatrician at some point, gotten shots, went to public school and so on. so what the fuck. did every single adult in this kids life and both parents just see that their 17 year old was Slenderman and think "hm! that's odd! oh well!"

I think about this all the time. they weren't poor either, they were working class and able to take a kid to a doctor about something if they wanted to. I'm not THAT old, but even if I was, 6'10" at any point in the history of the USA would be locally remarkable, and at any point in the last near-century would warrant at least a screening for pituitary tumor. instead he was just annoyed every time someone asked him about basketball. as far as I know he never had any tests or care from a cardiologist or endocrinologist or physical therapist. unfortunately he really is so much of a dickhead I can't even follow up on this but when he drops dead of spontaneous arterial dissection in his 40s are his parents going to say "if only there was something we could have done"???

anyway I spot people's medical problems all the time that have seemingly gone unremarked upon for decades, that's not unusual for me or anyone, but it was the sheer magnitude (literally) of this particular case that has maddened me ever since. if you were a short couple and had two giant children would you not want to get that checked out. I would want answers

[remidyal]

Outstanding antagonists after Junior Year

This post is as much for myself for fanfic purposes as it is for any speculation regarding a Senior Year that may never happen and even if it does would be I think at an absolute minimum three years and more likely 4-5 down the road, but I wanted to round up the known potential antagonists remaining out in the world, roughly ranked in order of known hostility:

Chungledown Bim. Certainly the MOST hostile of opponents, we know he's not dead post-Boy's Night (whenever Boy's Night is supposed to fit into the Quangle) because he's on Fabian's nemesis alert.

Arianwen Abernant. Evidently she has recovered her magic, probably while Cassandra was corrupted into a more Nightmare King-ish state. She was pretty pissed at Aelwyn and Adaine the last time we saw her over the whole death of Angwyn thing; I somehow don't think being chased around Sylvaire by the vand will have improved her mood.

Bobby Dawn. The full extent of his involvement in the Junior Year plot is uncertain, but he sure as hell wasn't helping things. Also some real potential hate between him and the party over the Sandra Lynn thing; while Fig might be gone in a Senior Year I'm going to ignore that for these rankings and in any case Sandra Lynn still lives with Kristen and Adaine regardless, so I think that conflict would be born out. I also think there's a strong case for a clash of pantheons style story going on in the background, and Bobby here would be front and center on the Sol-Helio-maybe Galicaea side.

Kalina. I don't necessarily think Kalina actually IS a traitor to Cassandra the way that Kristen thinks and Ankarna thinks; I almost believe that her turning up at the end of Junior Year was a reaction to them deciding to hunt her, in fact. That being said, while I think Kalina is fully team Cassandra, I also think (and even understand!) that she is most definitely NOT team Kristen, who did let Cassandra kind-of-die and now is splitting her attention. So what's Kalina's play now? I think she's going to try to push for Bobby Dawn to add Cassandra back to the Sol-Helio-Galicaea pantheon, which would be to her a much more stable foundation to keep Cassandra alive on than Kristen.

The Automatons that are going to be hunting Fig. Yes, these are self-evidently a way to excuse that Fig won't be around to help out if there's a senior year and Emily chooses to not play Fig. They're also kind of hilarious, especially since they open up all kinds of questions like 'wait did Sandra Lynn spend her first year of adventuring fighting off killer statues of Arthur Aguefort?' They'd be higher except they're only hostile to 1/6th of the Bad Kids.

Gertie Bladeshield. Also only hostile to 1/6th of the Bad Kids at present, though Cassandra knows if any of them speak up in Kristen's defense she'll probably swear a vow of emnity to them too. Could probably be made up with via a sincere apology, or at least by setting her up with someone.

The Court of Stars and Princess Nara. Now we're into the dubiously hostile territory, because this might not lead to actual conflict, but if there IS a clash of pantheons between the Sol one and the Ankarna-Cass one then the most obvious fight other than Cassandra is over where Galicaea ends up. The members of the Court of Stars we met this season seemed much more, um, I'll use the word chilled out than Angwyn and Kir of last year, but it still feels like a mercurial thing.

Arthur Aguefort. I've been saying for a very long time that the only boss fight that makes sense for a Senior Year IS to have to fight Arthur Aguefort himself; it doesn't even necessarily have to be a 'he's evil' sort of thing, but could just be a 'you're the best party we've had in centuries and I wanna throw down'. He dropped some hints at it in the finale, of course, too!

[lawrencespen1777]

Hello! I hope you are doing okay :)

I’ve just recently found your blog and must say that I’ve definitely enjoyed your dialogue prompts!

Are you okay with writing requests? In case it’s fine for you, could you please consider writing a dialogue where two characters have to stay some kind of a hotel, because one of them is too sick and feverish to travel?

No pressure, I understand if you don’t want to write this!

Sincerely yours, anon with whumperflies.

Anonnnnnn, I know you said dialogue but I got carried away. Obviously. Hope you enjoy. This has been my favorite to do so far. You keep requesting. I’ll keep writing. Your prompts are good. ;)

Hotel Hell

“How you doing?”

W shivered unresponsively underneath the jacket he’d donned as his makeshift blanket. C hoped that meant that he’d finally drifted off.

“I’m alright,” came the quiet voice.

“Still feel nauseous?”

There was the sound of a thick swallow. “Yep.”

C burned away their nervous energy by drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Can I…do anything?”

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull-“

W had the back of one hand pressed firmly against his lips. The other hand fumbled with the door handle of the still moving car.

“Wait, wait, wait I’m going! Give me a second!”

W was exiting the car even as it slid to a stop on the side of the highway. C followed soon after. The spray of vomit trailed from the car to a large tree where W stood doubled, steadying himself with one hand on the trunk and the other braced on his knee. He heaved again, bringing up another slough of last night’s partially digested dinner.

C stayed by the car. Doesn’t make sense for them both to be puking. “You good?” C called. A shaky hand returned a thumbs up although W remained doubled. “Okay. I’m uh…I’m gonna sit in the car. Just…take your time.”

It was 10 minutes before W shut the door behind them again. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s not a problem.”

W sighed and leaned his head against the cool glass. “It feels like a problem.”

“Hey.” C pulled W’s arm so that he could see his eyes. “Really. It’s-shit.”

“It is shit.”

“No not that. I mean you.” He pressed the back of his fingers to W’s temple. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you tell me you had a fever?”

W shrugged. “I just want to get there.”

“Well it’s not happening today. We’re gonna stop somewhere for the night so you can sleep it off…-in a bed,” he finished, sensing W’s impending objections. “I’m not pulling over every 10 minutes for you to puke. Sorry about it.”

It was almost an hour before they reached the motel that would be their home for the night. C pulled into a parking spot underneath a street light that was long burnt out. “That’s promising,” he muttered, then noticed the paint peeling off the walls. “Great.” He shut the car door behind him and heard W do the same. “At least it still has all four walls right?” He glanced over at W who had his head resting on the car. “Hey, you alright?”

W swallowed a few times. “Yeah but…I think I’m gonna th-row up again.”

“Okay just…hang out alright? I’ll go grab the key and be right back.”

For a motel that barely registered on the not haunted list they sure required a lot of information from their “guests”. “For the security of all,” they’d told him. Here’s a thought: streetlights that work.

Fifteen minutes and a quarter of a century later he rejoined W in the parking lot. “Sorry it took so long. They wanted my grandmother’s maiden name before they’d give me a room key.”

“C.”

“Yeah?”

“I think something’s really wrong, man.”

“…okay. Like what?”

“I don’t know. I’m really dizzy. I’m freaking out.”

“Don’t freak out. You’re alright. Let’s just get in the room. You can drink some water. Eat something small. You’ll feel better.” He took W by the arm and guided him towards their ground floor room. W leaned against the wall as C pulled out the room key, but C could definitely see him swaying. He fumbled with the lock. Who has manual keys at motels anymore?

W was swallowing hard and breathing harder. He stared at a single fixed point on the sidewalk, but didn’t appear to be looking at anything. He stumbled sideways and C dropped the keys in an attempt to catch his arm. Then, without warning, W retched again. He tried to cover his mouth with his hand, but the vomit won. It spilled out onto his shirt and dripped down his arm, splattering onto his pants and shoes as it hit the ground in one sickening wave followed by a second. “I’m so-,” he choked as another heave brought up a thick slurry into the hand that he’d forgotten to move.

“Jesus.”

“I’m so sorry.” W was a mess with vomit covered clothes and tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” His voice hitched again, but he only spat out bile.

“Don’t be. You’re-yeah-something’s wrong.” He pushed open the door and held it with his foot. “Do you think you’re done for a second?”

W waited a beat, then nodded.

“Can you walk straight?”

“I think so.”

“Okay so we’re gonna have to burn those clothes. Just take them off and while you take a shower I’ll run down to the 24 hour store we passed on the way in and see if I can find you…something…to help all this. Are you gonna be okay for a few?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah I’m okay.”

“Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Twenty-three minutes later (why is everyone so slow in this town??) C was working the finicky door key again. W opened it for him and his pale skin immediately stood out against the lamp lit room. “You’d make a good ghost.”

“I would’ve been one if you’d taken much longer.”

W rolled his eyes, but was relieved to hear some sarcasm come back from the dead. “This was all they had.” He threw W a pair of basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt.

“It’s fine.”

“I also got a thermometer, Tylenol, and Dramamine.” He laid each item out on the bed in succession.

“Dramamine? Isn’t that for like seasickness?”

“We’re close enough to the water.”

W took the pill bottles to the bathroom sink where he downed them with questionable tap water out of a plastic cup. He grimaced at the flavor and tossed the cup into the trash can.

“I also got you,” C rummaged in the grocery bag, “Everyone’s favorite. Peanut butter crackers.”

“Mmm,” W shook his head. “Mm-mm. Nope. Can’t do it.”

“You gotta eat something.”

“It. Won’t. Stay. Down. Were you not outside half an hour ago?”

W’s cheeks tinged with the slightest red. C pretended to not see. “Alright we’ll give the meds a minute to sink in. Then you’re trying them. I paid three bucks for these.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“…three dollars?”

“Yeah it’s the only store in this godforsaken town. They know they got you.” C opened up the boxed thermometer and tested it on himself. “Good news. I’m fine.”

“Fantastic.”

“I knew you’d be excited. Stay still.” C held the thermometer up to W’s forehead. “102.2. Damn…”

W crashed onto the bed and fell over sideways. He groaned.

“What?”

“What was in those pills you gave me? Whole room’s spinning…did you drug me?”

“Yeah I roofied your tap water.”

“I’m not putting out.”

“Uh yeah please keep in. Nobody wants to see that.”

W’s eyelids began to droop and C knew that the Dramamine had kicked in. He grabbed the bathroom trash can and put it beside the bed. “If you wake up before next week it’s right here alright?”

W’s eyes were almost shut, but he gave a small nod. C threw one of the blankets over him and walked over to his own bed. “Have a good coma.”

“Hey.”

C turned back. “Hey.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

[goodqueenaly]

I looked at Fan Wiki for lists of Westerosi Houses with Valyrian steel swords and wasn't sure how exhaustive it was. Was wondering if House Webber or House Westering or whichever have Valyrian steel swords, would we know and therefore must not have one?

I just mentioned Houses Westerling and Webber because of an alliteration and also they were houses the narrative had spend a not insignificant time with.

Do I think that there are plenty of other Westerosi Houses, beyond those already noted, which currently posses Valyrian steel swords? Very much so. Yandel cites Archmaester Thurgood's Inventories to report that “in the Seven Kingdoms there are only 227 such weapons … some of which have since been lost or have disappeared from the annals of history”. GRRM has Tyrion confirm almost this exact number when he, Tyrion, muses that “thousands [of Valyrian steel blades] remained in the world, perhaps two hundred in the Seven Kingdoms alone” - and if the author’s closest in-universe mouthpiece and a pseudo-nonfiction book in universe agree, I don’t think the author is going to suddenly say “gotcha, actually there aren’t any other Valyrian steel swords besides those we know”.

Do I think either the Webbers and/or the Westerlings specifically have a Valyrian steel sword of their own? Maybe, but I wouldn’t necessarily bet on it for either of them. Certainly, the Westerlings seem like one of those old blue blooded Westerosi Houses who could very well have, in olden times, purchased or received from their royal Lannister lieges a Valyrian steel sword. If the Westerling fortunes are rather less than impressive by the time of the main novels, this may well not have been, and indeed likely was not, the case some four or five centuries ago; with those choice lands not yet sold off, those mines not yet exhausted, and those Westerling daughters perhaps more recently married into the Lannister royal dynasty, the Westerlings may have seemed the sort of rich and upstanding Westerlands lords who could use, or afford, one of the rare and costly blades trickling in from Valyria. However, obviously no mention is made of such a blade by any of the Westerling characters in the main novels, including when Robb is eager to justify his union with Jeyne to his mother - a far from definitive omission, but to be considered nevertheless.

Even less, I think, can be speculated about the potential for a Webber sword. We’ve only really met a member of the Webbers (the Windblown sellsword notwithstanding) in “The Sworn Sword”, a story which by its very nature may have been an improper vehicle for introducing an ancestral family blade. Indeed, so much of that story focused on Lady Rohanne’s dilemma of being a ruler in her own right in a misogynistic, patriarchal aristocratic world - a world in which women wielding swords is at best unusual, if not openly criticized. Rohanne, in turn, may have had little narrative opportunity or reason to bring out a Valyrian steel blade and say, essentially, “oh by the way look at this”, and still less to put such a blade in the hands of her champion and wass would-be fiancé, the grasping and thoroughly unlikeable Lucas Inchfield. Nor indeed do we get any sense of the more ancient history of House Webber (beyond the last generation, anyway), to have an understanding of whether the Webbers would have been sufficiently exalted and/or wealthy enough to have gotten or been given a Valyrian steel sword.

Do I think either House having a Valyrian steel sword will be revealed? Not particularly, or at least I have no strong feelings about this happening. While I definitely anticipate that, as the threat of the Others’ invasion becomes more widely accepted and the realm rallies to unify in order to face it (and any related magical threats, such as Euron), there will be various ceremonies and moments of Valyrian steel sword pledging and contribution, I don’t think the Webbers or Westerlings will necessarily be involved. I’m not even sure that the Westerlings will survive past the TWOW prologue, at least of the ones we know: I’m fully convinced that the attack on the Lannister train by Lady Stoneheart is going to result in the deaths of Sybell Spicer and her (surviving) children, and I wouldn’t exactly be hopeful for Lord Gawen in that context either. I have far more hope of seeing more of the Webbers, at least in the timeline of Dunk and Egg - I’m very much convinced that there were specific geopolitical dimensions to the Tion Lannister-Rowan daughter betrothal that GRRM could very much discuss, and there is certainly no way that GRRM doesn’t explore the mysterious disappearance of Lady Rohanne herself - and so slightly more belief that a Webber Valyrian sword, if it exists, could appear on page. Still, I’m not sure that we’ll see any Webbers in the main novels (again, that Webber sellsword notwithstanding), when their Valyrian steel sword might be most useful.

(But really, if the Westerlings do have a Valyrian steel sword and it’s not called “Honorbound” there is no justice in the universe.)

[canmom]

more on art production ~under capitalism~

reading Who Owns This Sentence?, a very engaging and fiercely critical history of the concept of copyright, and it's pretty fire. there's all sorts of fascinating intricacies in the way the notion of IP formed around the world (albeit so far the narrative has mainly focused on Europe, and to a limited extent China), and the different ideologies that justified the types of monopolies that it granted. the last chapter i read skewers the idea that the ability to exploit copyright and patents is what motivates the writing of books and research/invention, and I'll try and pull out the shape of the argument tomorrow. so far I'm only up to the 18th century; I'm looking forward to the rest of their story of how copyright grew from the limited forms of that period into the monster it is today.

it's on libgen if you wanna read it! i feel like the authors would be hypocrites to object :p

it is making me think about the differences between the making of books and other media, from (since this has been rattling around my head lately) an economic angle...

writing books, at least in the case of fiction is usually done on a prospective, spec-work kind of basis (you write your novel with no guarantee it will get published unless you're already an established author under contract). admittedly, a lot of us probably read books by authors who managed to 'make it' as professional authors and write full time - but this is not a lucrative thing to do and to make it work you need truly exceptional luck to get a major hit, or to be extremely prolific in things people want to read.

the films and games of the types most of us play are, by contrast, generally made by teams of salaried people - and thus do rarely get made without the belief it will be profitable. if you went on about your 'monetisation model' when writing a book, people would look at you funny and rightly so, but it's one of the first questions that gets asked when pitching a game.

open source software is a notable comparison here. a lot of it is done for its own sake without any expectation of profit, taking untold hours, but large free software projects tend to sprout foundations, which take donations (typically from companies that use the software) to pay for full time developers. mozilla, notably, gets a huge part of its funding from google paying for their search engine to be the default in Firefox; this in turn drives development of not just Firefox itself but also the Rust programming language (as discussed in this very enlightening talk by Evan Czaplicki). Blender is rightly celebrated as one of the best open source projects for its incredibly fast development, but they do have an office in amsterdam and a number of full time devs.

what money buys in regards to creative works is not motivation, but time - time to work on a project, iterate and polish and all that. in societies where you have to buy food etc. to survive, your options for existence are basically:

work at a job

own capital

rely on someone else (e.g. a parent or partner)

rely on state benefits if you can get them

beg

steal

if you're working at a job, this takes up a lot of your time and energy. you can definitely make art anyway, loads of people do, but you're much more limited in how you can work at it compared to someone who doesn't have to work another job.

so again, what money buys in art is the means of subsistence for someone, freeing them to work fully on realising a project.

where does the money come from that lets people work full time on art? a few places.

one is selling copies of the work itself. what's remarkable is that, when nearly everything can be pirated without a great deal of effort, it is still possible to do this to some degree - though in many ways the ease of digital copying (or at least the fear if it) has forced new models for purely digital creations, which either trade on convenience (streaming services) or in the case of games, find some way to enforce scarcity like requiring connection to a central server and including 'in-app purchases', where you pay to have the software display that you are the nebulous owner of an imaginary thing, and display this to other players. anyway, whichever exact model, the idea is that you turn the IP into capital which you then use to manufacture a product like 'legal copies', 'subscriptions' or 'accounts with a rare skin unlocked'.

the second is using the work to promote some other, more profitable thing - merchandising, an original work, etc. this is the main way that something like anime makes money (for the production committee, if not the studio) - the anime is, economics-wise, effectively an ad for its own source manga, figurines, shirts etc. the reason why there is so much pro media chasing the tastes of otaku is partly because otaku spend a lot on merch. (though it's also because the doujin scene kind of feeds into 'pro' production)

the third is some kind of patronage relationship, notably government grants, but also academic funding bodies, or selling commissions, or subscriptions on a streaming platform/patreon etc.

grants are how most European animated films are funded, and they often open with the logos of a huge list of arts organisations in different countries. the more places you can get involved, the more funds you can pull on. now, instead of working out how to sell your creation to customers who might buy a copy, under this model you need to convince funding bodies that it fits their remit. requesting grants involves its own specialised language.

in general the issue with the audience patronage model is that it only really pays enough to live on if you're working on a pretty huge scale. a minority make a fortune; the vast majority get a pittance at most, and if they do 'make it', it takes years of persistence.

the fourth is, for physical media, to sell an original. this only works if you can accumulate enough prestige, and the idea is to operate on extreme scarcity. the brief fad of NFTs attempted to abstract the idea of 'owning' an original from the legal right to control the physical object to something completely nebulous. in practice this largely ended up just being a speculative bubble - but then again, a lot of the reason fine art is bought and sold for such eye watering sums is pretty much the same, it's an arbitrary holder of an investment.

the fifth is artworks which are kind of intrinsically scarce, like live performances. you can only fit so many people in the house. and in many cases people will pay to see something that can be copied in unique circumstances, like seeing a film at a cinema or festival - though this is a special case of selling copies.

the sixth is to sell advertising: turn your audience into the product, and your artwork into the bait on the hook.

the alternative to all of these options is unpaid volunteer work, like a collab project. the participants are limited to the time and energy they have left after taking care of survival. this can still lead to great things, but it tends to be more unstable by its nature. so many of these projects will lose steam or participants will flake and they'll not get finished - and that's fine! still, huge huge amounts of things already get created on this kind of hobby/indie/doujin basis, generally (tho not always) with no expectation of making enough money to sustain someone.

in every single one of these cases, the economic forces shape the types of artwork that will get made. different media are more or less demanding of labour, and that in turn shapes what types of projects are viable.

books can be written solo, and usually are - collaborations are not the norm there. the same goes for illustrations. on the other hand, if you want to make a hefty CRPG or an action game or a feature length movie, and you're trying to fit that project around your day job... i won't say it's impossible, I can think of some exceptional examples, but it won't be easy, and for many people it just won't be possible.

so, that's a survey of possibilities under the current regime. how vital is copyright really to this whole affair?

one thing that is strange to me is that there aren't a lot of open source games. there are some - i have memories of seeing Tux Racer, but a more recent example would be Barotrauma (which is open source but not free, and does not take contributions from outside the company). could it work? could you pay the salaries of, say, 10 devs on a 'pay what you can' model?

it feels like the only solution to all of this in the long run is some kind of UBI type of thing - that or a very generous art grants regime. if people were free to work on what they wanted and didn't need to be paid, you wouldn't have any reason for copyright. the creations could be publicly archived. but then the question i have is, what types of artwork would thrive in that kind of ecosystem?

I've barely talked about the book that inspired this, but i think it was worth the trouble to get the contours of this kind of analysis down outside my head...

[ladysirenity23]

Cult!Genshin x reader

Sagau pt.4 Inazuma

Warnings: cult behavior, obsessive thoughts, religion, spoilers,

Pt. 1 Khaenri'ah 👇

Pt.2 Mondstadt 👇

Pt.3 Liyue 👇

Kazuha

The sounds of the ocean never cease to calm the young man as your presence also seems to make the sight of the serene waters better as the wind is blowing slowly-though his words and phrases in his haiku never could bring you any justice as you were just that divine

Though he frowns on why you weren't able to help in any suffering in these past centuries during the Vision Hunt decree

No matter now though. As his friend would finally be at peace knowing their Creator is helping the Traveler stop the tribulations and trials that the people of Inazuma are facing.  Oh.. how he wishes for his friend to take sight of their Creator and take part in the freedom of the vision holders of the Nation of Eternity..

Now.. will you grace him an ear and listen to his haiku's...?

Ayaka

As Ayaka was still but a little girl...She'd listen to her mother speak of you in such a high manner-and she couldn't blame her mother or anyone who worshipped you in that matter... you were the Creator after all..

Upon your arrival on Teyvat she was surprised to say the least-but that wasn't a bad thing-! In fact she could say she's been dying to meet you-not only from prayers or from stories from her mother...but actually genuinely get to know you..and perhaps..even be graced to attend a festival only with you

Kokomi

During the decades-each and every priestess of the Island of Watatsumi had offered their mind and soul to their God-namely Orabxi even after he was slain-but even when that was the case they still worshipped him in spite of the Shogun-but of course aside from the fallen Deity…you were worshipped as well...

The warm welcome at Watatsumi was beyond warm..for they held a small welcoming party in your honor even during these trying times-and despite  not understanding a single word any of them said-you felt loved and safe-well that is until you realized you hadn’t done the Inazuma quest before-

But for now..you seem content with the serenity of the situation before you go back to the cold and harsh realities of this archon quest-

Raiden Shogun

Makoto would sit in the outskirts of Inazuma as Ei went into battle..she'd smile as she does little prayers towards your personal shrine as the small pink kitsune snuggles into her arms with glee..but perhaps not everything is cut and dry..especially when now..she'll decide to go an risk her life in the front of the unfamiliar battlefield..yet..even in her dying breath..she still fondly mutters your name...

Ei...the loss of her friends..the loss of her sister...a poor archon indeed..though not the first archon who'd lost their companions' lives..she knows she'll definitely not be the last who'd endure the pain of loss..but she can't seem to grasp why it was necessary for it to happen-she couldn't grasp why you let it happen-you-a being who transcends even Celestia..why couldnt have you stopped the bleeding of their beings and her heart bled as she was forced to slay her beloved friends-and when she was forced to see Makoto die in her arms...why at all times you show yourself when you stop her in her own selfish pursuit of 'eternity' why until now... must you give her trials every step in the way? Yet..even as childish as she sounds..she doesn't blame you..after all...mortals aren't the only ones living under your judgement..

The shogun was tasked and programmed to eliminate any one who dares stop the pursuit of Eternity...however that somehow didn't apply to you..and even she had little to no control over her body she still wonders why she hadn't strike you the moment you went and ran towards the people of Inazuma to protect them..

Scaramouche

What does 'he' think of you?

Kuzinushi would ask himself everytime..what did he think of you once he was discarded by the Shogun?What did he think of you once he witnessed the village he was already content in residing in-burned to the ground with only ash and flame all over the corpses of the villagers...

So..?

He despises you.. - Scaramouche would cackle in the realisation of his inner turmoil towards you his supposed creator..what was there to love in the first place anyway?!...

Ohh...our merciful Creator..what sorrows will you bring today...Scaramouche would say mockingly to the heavens as if daring you to strike him down-He'd spit on your name..he'd go as far to do it in front of his fellow harbingers and Snezhanya's archon..but alas why did he crave some sort of attention from you? Why did he seem to pray (despite being it only in his head-)Yet that didn't change the fact that there was a tiny silvee of hope every time he prayed while he felt the slight glimmer of your presence on the clouds of Teyvat-

Yet at the present time he'd watch you once you came to the island of Watatsumi..maybe he was relishing in the chaos? Or maybe intrigued on your oddly hopeless reactions-

The indigo haired puppet only could look at you in disbelief-or maybe it was amusement..even for him..it was hard to decipher which one he was truly feeling

Either way...now with your presence in Inazuma...shouldn't you praise and worship him for his plan to entrap protect you from the cruel role you were forced to play onto you?

--

You,Traveller and Paimon enter the domain as you try to process the grieving events that took place in Watatsumi Island-you failed to save anyone here-

As you felt your guilt and hatred for yourself for not preventing anything to happen-you feel yourself going into the spiral of utter despair as you come face to face with familiar looking  silhouette reaching out to you as a grin spread into his lips...

Before blacking out into the shadows of the domain..

--

You suddenly wake up back at your room-phone in hand..but...nothing seemed to change...(!?)

It didn't seem a day even pass as you look at your familiar surroundings..time worked differently from the one in Teyvat..but something didn't feel right-

However..now you'll have to deal with things behind the screen as you help Aether's journey from the confines of your room-

While your physical body in Teyvat resides somewhere else for now...

Ayato

As the Vision Hunt decree finally got abolished-The eldest Kamisato finally went out of his office before rumors of your arrival came as quick as your physical departure form Teyvat-

It was odd..though in a world where even normal human beings in Teyvat could have abilities graced upon Celestia-

Maybe it wasn't so weird at all..but it was quite worrying as for now he would only sense your presence through the Traveller..what could've cause your physical body to dissappear..? What could've caused you to separate from your physical body-

He should leave the questions to the Anemo-visioned detective..but even he can get impatient even after years of hard work and patience....

@w@:Sorri for the very late sagau posts I've lost money and PayPal and I am still trying to earn it back so pls be patient for the next part qwq

If u want to donate 💕

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 23 - We're So Back

Time to get back in action, starting with Treasure Island. Song mentioned: ‘Middle of the Night’ by Elley Duhé

WC: ~5k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

The seas were fairly rocky between the resupply town and ‘treasure island’, so not much time was spent above deck during the three day journey. Killer and Heat took turns giving you reading lessons to pass the time, between sharpening weapons and Killer showing you how to cook a few simple things. As the island approached it became clear that the reason nobody came here was probably the weather. It was the sort of island that was hard to approach due to the rough waves and sharp rocks surrounding the coastline, with near constant lightning strikes illuminating the otherwise darkly clouded island. Kid had to work hard to direct the ship with his devil fruit, along with Double at the helm, to keep it from smashing against the rocks. They made their way to a small dock in a cove that Double had found marked on the map you’d stolen from the marines, that was somewhat protected from the elements. It wasn't perfect, but the water was at least a little calmer here, allowing for the gangplank to be safely dropped. As predicted, there was nobody standing guard here, no doubt due to a combination of the weather, the difficult waters on approach, and the fact that it wasn’t on most maps. Not that the Kid Pirates were any less focused though, there could always be traps or dangerous creatures on the island instead.

The stash house marked on the map was a short hike inland, so you and Killer led point for the group, with Killer scanning for trouble with his haki and you using the x ray setting on you mask to check for traps, your hand on Killer’s back to help guide you while your vision was skewed. There were a few tripwire traps the marines had no doubt set, but they were easily spotted by the two of you and disarmed before they could do any damage. Working in this way slowly inland you eventually made it to a concrete bunker, right where the map said it would be. Another trap had been set to go off when the door handle was touched, but you were able to notify the others before anyone could be electrocuted by it. Kid used his fruit to destroy the mechanism, as well as tearing the metal door off its hinges for good measure, revealing the well organised crates and shelves of guns, swords, and ammunition inside, covered in a thin sheen of dust that indicated they had probably gone untouched for about a year. After one last check for traps, the crew set about transporting the heavy boxes back to the beach. Deeper stored crates also revealed large stores of long-life emergency rations. The island was definitely being used as an emergency resupply base for marines, and someone was going to get the shock of the century when they turned up and found the place empty. It would no doubt result in more than one marine starving to death, being that this place was likely only visited in case of emergency resupply.

Things were going well, the haul slowly making its way back to the shore, the crew in high spirits at the easy raid. You felt uneasy though, and judging by the way Killer seemed agitated you guessed he was feeling it too. Something was off, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. Sure, without haki or your devil fruit the crew would have been mostly taken out by traps, so it’s not like the island was just free pickings, but something else felt weird too.

“Something feel off to you, Kil?” you mused, switching through a few different visor settings to scan the surroundings but finding nothing of note.

“Mmm, I can’t place it though,” he replied.

“Maybe it's all the electricity in the air from the lightning?” you suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” he hummed, “it just feels too easy, don’t you think?”

“It's not like it was all daisies getting the map and pose, or getting past all the traps,” Wire joined the conversation as he passed by in long strides, leaving you and Killer at the rear of the congregation.

“I guess that’s true,” you agreed, continuing to follow Killer but still a little on edge.

A flash of lightning directed your attention to the sky, and you could have sworn you saw something dark in the clouds in the fraction of a second they’d been illuminated. Then again, it was only a moment, maybe you were just being paranoid. Convincing yourself you were anxious because of the lighting, you continued down the path with the others.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled with a close bolt of lightning, momentarily blinding you with the sudden brightness, and when your vision readjusted Killer was right in front of you, his punishers raised and his body shielding you, a long claw digging through the bicep of the raised arm, all the way to the back of it where you could see the bloodied point. With a flick of his wrist he cut the offending foot from the creature that had attacked him, sawing it off in a smooth movement with his spinning blades. The creature let out a shrill scream, flailing its shortened leg and spraying blood everywhere, most of the henchmen covering their ears while you went on the attack.

It was large, some sort of winged lizard, you would describe it as a dragon if you weren't totally sure that those were fictional. Then again, this was the Grandline, all sorts of weird shit happened here. Its emerald green scales shimmered like it was covered in jewels as more lightning struck nearby, illuminating its large figure. It was on par with a small seaking, the claw that had gone through Killer being about the same width as your wrist at its base.

You weren't back in full fighting shape yet, so your strength was limited, and you worried you'd be struck by lightning if you moon stepped to gain enough height for meteor wave, so you focused instead on what you could do from the ground. Killer charged at it again despite his injury, slicing a wide gash across the creature's chest as it flapped its wings and reared up, intending to stomp on him with its remaining front foot. The two of you were agile, and began to work in synchronised tandem, Killer making openings in the scales and you following close behind to use the openings as weak points where you could send through sharp waves of vibrations. It had a similar effect to what a cannonball might, but the large creature showed no sign of going down. Kid joined the fight, the rest of the crew being preoccupied with transporting the haul or too far already to have heard anything. He smashed it on the head with a large metallic fist, but the creature grabbed hold of it and did something unexpected. You thought for a moment that it was going to breathe fire, with the way its mouth and throat began to glow hot white, until a ripple of electricity spread through Kid's metal arm. You felt the electrons charging, and used your fruit to vibrate Kid's arm hard enough that he lost concentration and let the prosthetic fall before the electricity could reach his flesh.

“Fuck, god catch Yin,” he shouted over the rain, which was getting heavy and loud.

“Get out of here, your metal is no good here!” You shouted back.

“We'll get the ship ready to go!” He called back, regathering his prosthetic as he turned and ran before the creature could charge its electricity again.

Killer gave you a nod, and you got back to work, wearing away at the creature bit by bit. Killer was starting to falter, the claw still in his arm and hindering his movements, and you noticed now how much blood there was.

You unsheathed your sword, vibrating and heating it till it glowed red, turning yourself and the blade invisible and charging at the creature. It could still sense you, and sent a stream of electricity after you like a thick laser, but you dodged and weaved, jumping on to its back and running up the long neck before flipping yourself to dive down, using the momentum to drive your blade through the skull of the beast. With the added heat it cut like butter, the tip appearing under the jaw and dripping blood before pulling your blade out and riding the motion as the creature fell dead, gracefully jumping from its head as it hit the ground.

Killer was leaning against a tree, his hand hovering nervously over the claw still in his arm. He'd cut away the rest of the foot, but the claw was still going right through him.

“Nope!” You smacked his hand away, “you gotta leave it in till Mohawk can remove it”

Killer groaned and you rolled your eyes at him. “Big baby,” you pulled up his sash to expose his belt and started to unbuckle it.

“Woah, don't you think it's a bit soon for that?” He tried to stop your hands but you swatted them away.

“Behave,” you tutted, “I just need your belt”

You pulled the belt loose from his pants and wound it around his arm, above the claw, fastening it as tight as you could as a makeshift tourniquet. It made him wince and you tutted at him again.

“There, now let's get you to doc,” you yanked at his shirt to pull him away from the tree and pushed him to walk in front of you, “move it or lose it, big baby”

“You're mean after a battle,” he noted, “I like it”

“Next you're gonna tell me you have a kink for being bossed around,” you flirted.

“Maybe I do,” he purred back. You gave him a harder shove in the direction of the path as a blush swept across your cheeks. You followed him quietly down the path till you met back up with the others, half of them didn't even know anything had happened.

Mohawk rushed over, seeing Killer's arm, grabbing it maybe a little too rough and making Killer audibly wince. “What the fuck were you two doing?” Mohawk yelled, “playing hide the claw?”

“Yeah definitely, there's one in my pussy too,” everyone looked at you in shocked silence, “too far?”

Kid barked out a laugh while Mohawk dragged Killer away to the infirmary. Another strike of lightning nearby reminded you how unsafe this island was so you quickly followed them up the gangplank to go take a hot shower and change into dry clothes.

The ship was still rocking heavily by the time you finished your shower, but it'd at least made it back out to open sea past the dangerous rocks and heavy storm. You could see blue sky breaking through the clouds in the distance as you appeared back out on deck, the rest of the crew hard at work organising and storing the loot. You made your way to the infirmary to see if Mohawk needed any help, giving a short knock on the door before entering in case Killer had his mask off.

“Just me!” You announced as you slid inside, “You need your nurse, Mohawk?

“Can you wear a little nurse uniform?” Killer purred. Mohawk gave him a little smack on his sore side, making him groan.

“Ignore him, he's high as shit on pain meds right now,” the doctor rolled his eyes, “can you grab me some more sutures?”

“On it!” You smiled, glad to be of use. Killer's mask followed you as you moved, you felt a little like a prey being stalked by a predator, the thought made a shiver run down your spine. You brought the sutures to the bedside and Killer grabbed your ass with his good hand, making you squeal in surprise.

“Fucking hell,” you smacked him hard on the chest, “keep em to yourself big guy or I'll paralyze them” you growled. You weren't against Killer being handsy, per say, you just didn't think he would want this if he wasn't high, so it felt more responsible to scold him than to do anything to accidentally encourage it.

“You can do that?” Mohawk asked, a curious, plotting, glimmer in his eyes.

“Yeah I just gotta block the signals in the nerves,” you replied nonchalantly, “it's all just electric pulses”

“Coooool,” Mohawk definitely put that in his back pocket for later.

“How's he looking doc?” You asked, swatting Killer's arm away again. He made a silly little giggle under his mask, he was definitely high.

“Clean in and out,” he replied, tying off a stitch, “didn't hit anything important, he got lucky this time”

“I'm tryna get lucky again,” he tried to roll to grab you, this time Mohawk smacked him.

“That's it, no more moving mr. cloud nine ,” you clicked your fingers for effect and Killer went limp against the bed. Mohawk snorted, picking up the first mate's good arm and letting it flop uselessly to the bed.

“Awwwwww,” Killer pouted like a child scorned. You'd only paralyzed his limbs, his chest and head were still perfectly functional.

Another heavy roll of the ship had to sprawling over Killer, and he snickered as you clambered off him to stand upright again. “Do you need me in here anymore Mohawk?” you asked with a sigh as Killer made another feeble attempt at getting at you, “I have a feeling this one isn't going to behave himself while I'm still in here”

“Nah you're good,” he laughed, “get out of here before I have to sedate him”

You waited till you were at the door to unblock Killer's nerves, laughing to yourself as he audibly whined at you leaving.

After a successful mission, and proving that you were back in action, Kid was intent on having a party to celebrate. The waves were still rough and it was cold outside, still within weather range of the storm island, so unfortunately it had to be indoors. The rain had at least passed but nobody wanted to be out in the howling winds. The crew set up in the galley, most of the tables being covered with plates of shareable food and bottles of liquor, with tapped kegs of beer lined up along the wall. The food on the commander's table was especially stacked high, and you happily skipped over to start picking at it before Kid could come in and demolish the best bits.

It'd been a good few hours since leaving the island, dusk coming in heavy as people sauntered in for dinner a little later than normal to account for how long it took to make this much food. Killer entered not long after you, letting his hand breeze over your waist as he stepped around you to get to his normal chair. His injured arm was held in a sling, and he still seemed a little wobbly on his feet.

“Sorry about earlier,” he scratched the back of his neck with his good hand as he sat, “I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable”

“You're good,” you giggled, “got it all out of your system? I'm not gonna have to paralyse you again am I?”

“I hope not,” he scoffed, “I may have been off my rocker but that was weird as hell”

“Well I promise I won't do it again, unless you ask me to,” you winked, and a faint blush appeared on Killer's neck. “How's your arm?”

“Hurts a little now that the good stuff is out of my system, but its no where near as bad as when I fucked my arm,” he mused.

“How did you fuck your arm?” You asked, it was a curiosity you'd long had. You had to guess by the large amount of deep scarring that it'd been some sort of bad burn, but you couldn't tell if it was from fire or acid, or maybe some sort of devil fruit user.

“Ah, got caught in Heat's crossfire when we fought Shanks,” he scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed, “not my finest moment but we were all a bit frazzled by Kid's injury”

“I never did ask anyone about Kid's arm either, did Shanks do that?” You asked as you settled in your seat now that you'd gathered a collection of food from the spread onto one convenient plate.

“Nah, his first mate did it,” he replied, working on his own plate. You noticed him reaching for something but with only one good hand it was tricky, so you stood and leaned across the table to start piling his plate with food. “Thanks,” he hummed, pointing at a few things he particularly wanted, which you happily grabbed for him.

“No problem, it's the least I can do after you got hurt protecting me,” you smiled, “I thought his first mate was a gunman? How did he cut his arm off?”

“He didn't,” Killer began picking at his plate as you poured him a drink and slid a straw in before sitting back down. Killer hummed in appreciation at the wordless gesture. “He shot clean through the bone with a haki-infused bullet. Mohawk couldn't do anything out in the field to save it, by the time we got back to the ship the blood supply had been cut off for too long and he had to amputate”

“Fuck, that's rough,” you frowned, pouring yourself a drink. You'd come to find whiskey was your liquor of choice in your time with the Kid Pirates. “Not that a burn that big could have been any fun either”

“It wasn't, but Mohawk is a good doctor,” Killer hummed, “we were out of our depth taking on a yonko that early. I think we'll be ready next time.”

“Yeah? Any plans on doing that soon?” You asked curiously.

“Before the end of the year,” Kid answered for him as he took his seat, followed by Heat, Double and Mohawk. Wire had apparently drawn the short straw for the watch. “But we're not going at it alone this time, and we have a powerful new weapon on our side,” Kid grinned at you.

“You don't seem like the type for alliances,” you noted, “who are you planning to ask?”

“Hawkins and Scratchmen,” he replied with a full mouth, “we're still figuring it out but we're gonna send word soon. One of the islands you two nabbed an eternal pose and map for is a decently secluded, small, spring island with what looks like on the map to be a castle. Island that size can't be too hard to capture, so the plan is to take it for a base when we get closer and then call the other two crews to meet there. A castle that size should be able to accommodate us all okay”

“That seems like a good plan,” you smiled, “I've never seen a castle in person, I hope it's haunted”

“Wait, you want it to be haunted?” Heat almost choked on his food.

“Yeah, have you ever heard of ghost hunters using EMF to detect ghosts?” You asked with an enthusiasm to your voice, “electromagnetic energy is something I can feel and manipulate, so I've always wondered if I could use my powers to sense or control ghosts”

“That's hardcore,” Kid blinked at you, “imagine controlling army of ghosts, that'll fuckin’ spook Shanks”

“Assuming ghosts are real,” you added, “I hope they are though, it would be cool”

“I guess we'll have to wait and see then,” Killer noted. He secretly had his hopes up though, watching you control a army of ghosts would be fucking cool.

Hours had passed, and everyone was well and truly into the partying spirit. The tables had all been pushed to the walls to make space for crew mates playing instruments and dancing. You danced along with them, definitely drunk, a glass of whiskey in your hand. The amber contents sloshed and spilled occasionally as you danced and laughed, spinning in time with the band, the dizzy feeling in your head making you giggle more. Your signature jacket had been ditched long ago as the heat of the alcohol in your veins made you flush, showing off the pale yellow satin slip style dress you wore daringly without a bra, paired with a pair of strappy white shoes with thick heels. Many of the henchmen, as well as the commanders, eyed you hungrily, the spinning making your tight skirt flare slightly and showing off the occasional flash of royal blue panties. Killer had almost choked on his drink the first time he spotted them, he had no doubt the colour was purposeful to tease him, everyone knew it was his favourite.

You pouted as the band took a break, drunkenly stumbling your way back to the raised platform where the commander's table sat to complain.

“Can't you make them play more?” You pleaded to Kid.

“They've been playing for hours, let them rest you floozie,” Kid laughed.

“Who you callin’ floozie?” You slurred, “at least my tits ain't out” you pointed at Kid's open vest. He tutted in response.

“Didn't you tell me once you could control sound?” Killer mused. He was mostly sober given Mohawk had given him strict instructions to not drink much with the pain meds.

“Did I?” You put a finger to your lips in thought, “I haven't done that in ages though”

“Go on then, play your own damn music!” Kid roared.

You gave him an annoyed frown, that quickly turned to a mischievous smile as your lust-addled brain hatched a plan. You smirked at Kid and skipped away, taking a guitar that had been left resting against a wall by one of the musicians and skipping back with it.

“Can you even play that thing?” Kid smirked.

“Not properly, and I mean I don't actually need it,” you replied, shoving the guitar into his hands, “but string instruments use vibrations to make their sounds, so it's fun to manipulate them. It's less ‘playing’ in the traditional sense, and more like using a tool. Hold this for me would ya?”

You handed Killer your drink with a cheeky grin and sauntered over to the approximate middle of the semicircle that the commanders were sitting in, raising a hand towards the guitar. To everyone's surprise it began to strum out a melody, like it was being played by a phantom musician.

“I summoned you, please come to me,

Don't bury thoughts that you really want.

I fill you up, drink from my cup,

Within me lies what you really want.”

Brows raised around the room as you began to sing, none of them having ever heard your honeyed singing voice before. In truth, you weren't as good a singer as you appeared, but your devil fruit allowed you to manipulate your voice as it left you, making it sound exactly as you wanted it to. You added a rhythmic clap to the melody as you continued to sing.

“Come, lay me down

'Cause you know this

'Cause you know this sound”

Suddenly all around you was a burst of music and colours, vibrant ribbons of light spinning and radiating from you in time with the music in hues of purples, pinks and golds. You danced along with it, slow and sultry in time with the building rhythm, the reflections of light on your skin and satin dress giving you an almost ethereal glowing appearance.

“In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night,

Just call my name, I'm yours to tame.

In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night,

I'm wide awake, I crave your taste.

All night long 'til morning comes,

I'm getting what is mine, you gon' get yours, oh no, ooh~

In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night, oh~”

The lights and sounds faded as you returned to just the strumming of the guitar, the beat previously carried by your claps now forming out of the air as you danced, a faint circle of purple swirling around you on the floor like heavy smoke, small flickers of heatless golden flames licking at your shoes. All eyes were on you, captivated by the mystic display.

“These burning flames, these crashing waves,

Wash over me like a hurricane.

I'll captivate, you're hypnotized,

Feel powerful, but it's me again.

Come, lay me down,

'Cause I know this,

'Cause I know this sound”

The wondrous lights and music reignited as the chorus came round again, the flames flourishing to engulf your calves and spread from your feet, sparkling embers floating up from the tips and surrounding you like glitter. Your hips swayed in time as you sauntered around your makeshift stage, your fingertips brushing against Killer's chin in a seductive manner as you passed by, his breath hitching as you did so.

As the chorus ended it was replaced again by the guitar, accompanied now by a faded, echoing rhythm, haunting almost. The clap-like beat returned as your voice did, just as haunting and sultry as the tune as you slowly paced towards Killer, a hand reaching out as if to beckon him with your siren song.

“And just call on me, ah, just call my name

Like you mean it”

The final chorus approached with another explosion of light and sound, the colours even more vibrant than before as images of sparkling stars and asteroids shot past you, like you had lifted into the night sky, or perhaps torn it down to do your will. The pastels and golds that had previously appeared as ribbons now formed vast, glimmering nebulas, morphing and forming the shapes of horses that circled you in grand galloping herds. Your dancing became more energetic, your arms reaching out to the heavens before sliding down your body in a sensual display, your hips swinging in time as you sang. Every eye in the room was on you, many of the henchmen standing crowded at the base of the raised platform to get a better view, hypnotized by the way you conjured a symphony of light and sound from nothing.

As the chorus ended so did your singing, the sound of the guitar now all that was left as you repeated the same chords from the beginning, rounding out your song. There was a great applause as it came to an end, wobbling drunkenly, or perhaps just exhausted, on your feet as you turned and gave a bow to the henchmen before returning to Killer. You took your drink back from him, and slid into his lap like it was the most casual thing in the world. In truth, the performance had made you somewhat horny, showing off for him, and in your drunken state you'd somewhat forgotten about the boundaries you'd put in place, though as your fruit burned through the alcohol and sobered you, you couldn't find the will to get up from him.

The henchmen let out wolf whistles as they disbursed, now that the show was over. Killer coughed to clear his throat as you wrapped an arm around his neck for support and sipped your drink. His good hand naturally found your waist to keep you comfortably on his lap, the other still in its sling but itching to touch your exposed thighs. You'd been careful to sit so your torso was at the opposite side from it, weary of hurting him. Your dancing and focus on him during the song had the desired effect, feeling now the half mast erection he had against the plush underside of your thigh as you sat side saddle across his legs. You could have purred when you felt it as you sat, and you ran your finger under his chin as it tilted towards you, scratching his goatee and giving him a playful smirk before returning your attention back to the rest of the group.

“Well fuck, if you could do that this whole time then why do we even bother having instruments on board?” Kid barked enthusiastically as he rested the guitar against the table.

“Probably because it's exhausting,” you replied, “controlling sound and light like that takes a lot out of me, if we get attacked tonight you can count me out”

“Like your drunk ass could manage a fight right now anyway,” Kid huffed. You poked your tongue at him. “I see the two of you are friendly again”

“Whatever do you mean, Captain?” You replied teasingly, still scratching Killer's chin like he was a prized pet, “can't a girl just take a rest on a very comfy piece of eye candy?” Killer huffed under his mask at your objectification. “Hush, chair” you poked his mask.

“Kinky,” Kid noted with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle before taking a swig of his drink. You gave him a toothy grin and he almost choked on the liquor.

Your attention returned to Killer as you felt him grow harder under you, perhaps he enjoyed the objectification after all. Both of you were tipsy, now that much of the alcohol in your system had burned off with the strenuous use of your powers. You yawned dramatically, nestling closer to Killer. “I'm tired, carry me to bed?” You gave him your best pleading tone as you ran a hand down his front. He may have been down one arm but you knew full well that he was more than capable of carrying you with only one. You swore you felt his dick twitch against your thigh as it strained in his pants. You leaned in close, your mouth near the side of his mask over where his ear would be. “Maybe to your bed?” you whispered in a sultry tone.

He made a little grunt and took your glass from you, placing it on the table behind him before scooping you up onto his shoulder, the hand of his usable arm firmly on your ass, to keep you from slipping of course. The commanders made jeers and whistles as he carried you away, and you flipped Kid off behind Killer's back, laughing at his shocked face as you made your exit.

A/n: I know we don't have the specifics of what happened to Kid and Killer's arms other than a snippet that Benn Beckman was responsible for Kid's but I saw a interesting diagram the other day about how the bullet must have shattered the bone to necessitate amputation and it got me thinking, so this is my personal theories on what happened to them. 

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[leantailean]

Izumi being Toph’s daughter could be the reason for her glasses.

No, really.

Okay just follow my crazy for a moment.

No one in Zuko’s family wears glasses, right? And Mai throws knives which requires sharp eyesight to do accurately. So why does Izumi have vision problems?

Let’s consider what probably caused Toph’s blindness. She says she was born blind, so we know it’s congenital. Her eyes appear opaque which sounds like cataracts. Toph mostly likely has congenital catatacts.

Predispositions to congenital cataracts do run in families. If Izumi inherited this condition, she would need immediate surgery to save her sight. Delaying surgery results in the eye never developing properly due to missing out on sunlight, which still results in blindness. But if Izumi’s was caught earlier, they could’ve surgically removed the cataract.

It may sound too advanced but there have been rudimentary catarcter surgies in India since 5th century BC. In ATLA they could even use bending to improve the prognosis!

If all goes well, the only long lasting side effect would be the need for corrective lenses.

Like glasses.

Hello! And thanks for the question!

This is a very interesting theory, but I believe that Izumi is Mai's daughter. She and Mai are practically look like the same person. She also resembles her grandmother.

Unfortunately I don’t know much about  hereditary eye problems, (but if happens that someone who reads it knows some factual information about it and can give some links I would be very grateful.)

I don't consider the comics and LOK to be a canon (in fact, you're talking to someone who doesn’t even consider the atla third book to be completely canon because of some terrible writing decisions or how the writers treated some of the characters in the third book, especially Zuko , Iroh and Aang, lol🤓). I like to think about LOK as of some sort of AU. And in general, I have almost no doubt that Toph and Zuko actually have a common child in LOK. Like, just look at Lin. She looks like someone from the FN. Her facial expressions, movements, her stubborn, strong personality. Do I at least doubt that Lin is Zuko's daughter? No, for me this is the canon. It's possible that Toph and Zuko got together around the time he and Mai had broken up for a while, or it's even more likely that Zuko widowed and after that he could have got into a long-term relationship with Toph. I don't want to think about Zuko being a widower, or that Mai died - I adore Mai, she's my best girl, my second favorite female ATLA character after Toph. And I LOVE maiko. But we know that in LOK Sokka died early, and Aang died quite early, so anything is possible. But, in any case, Zuko and Toph could have had a long relationship, nothing in LOK contradicts that version. As I recall, Toph mentioned that Lin's father's name was Kanto. Imagine: Zuko secretly dating a woman who doesn't want to be drawn into FN court undercover games, so he sends her love letters and sign them as "Kanto", and there is someone who reads these letters to Toph. God, I love that.

However, Izumi is definitely Mai's daughter.

But this is a very interesting theory, thanks for sharing it!

[lagosbratzdoll]

On Daenerys, Colonisation and Race Discourse within the ASOIAF Fandom

This has been on my mind for a good long while and honestly, as much as I would like to leave discourse in the pits, it has been bugging me intermittently over the past few weeks.

Far too many of you get on here and call people who like the fictional dragon-riding family, neo-Nazis and that sentiment is so prevalent, that white people feel comfortable telling me a black woman that I am a neo-Nazi for rooting for Daenerys Targaryen. I am upholding neo-Nazi power fantasies for wanting to see a little girl live at the end of a story. I am a neo-Nazi for wanting to see the rape survivor have the family she aches for and children with the man (or men) she loves.

Then, those same people go on spiels about how the systemic erasure of those who sing the song of the earth and other old races is not colonialism. That their removal from their home is not displacement but an agreement between two equal parties. The fact that the only place where those who sing the song of the earth exist in the present timeline is north of the wall, surrounded by the bones of their dead, is not a travesty. That the expulsion of the old races from their home isn't that bad and should not be condemned. 

Instead, people argue, completely seriously, that the harm that the First Men and Andals have caused is centuries in the past, so essentially the slate has been wiped clean. The logical leaps that are required to arrive at such a boneheaded conclusion are truly mind-boggling, and those who make such arguments are not good people. 

I am unsure how one could read those books and come away with the impression that the old races do not mourn the loss of their home. I am unsure how one could read The Last of the Giants[1] and Ygritte’s reaction to both the song and Jon’s dismissal of the ethnic cleansing of the giants then believe that the old races and the free folk have moved past their displacement. 

In Westeros, from the Wall to the broken arm of Dorne, they all speak one language despite the fact they are all different ethnicities and they all landed on the shores at different times. That is not the case in Essos, we have been introduced to at least six languages and in A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion notes that the Valyrian spoken in the Free Cities has evolved into nine distinct dialects, and they are well on their way to becoming different languages.

How would a continent as large and diverse as Westeros maintain its hegemony over the people if not for forced assimilation, discriminatory practices and violence? The brutal repression required to keep one house in power for thousands of years is nothing to sniff at. The suppression required to keep the vast majority of Westeros worshipping one (or seven) gods. The systems in place ensure that language does not grow or evolve amongst the highborns at least.

Centuries before Aegon's Landing the maesters were the definitive educational authority and even now centuries after, nothing has changed. The grey rats still decide who learns what and when they learn it. There's one in every highborn home, all correspondence passes through them, they are the healers and the councillors.

The circular logic gets even more blockheaded when you factor in the fact that Daenerys is far from the only white character in the books. She is not the only character who wishes for home. She is not the only character who draws strength from her ancestors, her bloodline and her magical creatures. 

Cersei draws strength from her family’s iconography, and the Stark children (Jon included) all draw strength from their direwolves, their home and their blood. Sansa, Arya and Bran wish to return home and their home was built on the indiscriminate murder and displacement of the indigenous peoples. Their home is built on centuries of rape, murder, exclusionary practices and sexual slavery. 

However, if we give the nonsensical argument that time erases crimes air; the Starks, Lannisters and Tullys are warring to settle personal grievances in the present timeline. As a consequence of that war, thousands (a modest guesstimate) of small folk, minor nobles and even some major ones have been raped, tortured, maimed and killed.

Despite all this, no one writes meta after meta about how Sansa and her siblings must surely die for justice to be had for those who sing the song of the earth, the free folk, the giants and all the old races that fled beyond the wall.  

People write meta about Cersei and how she must die, but those are typically more misogynistic nature. They typically argue that she must die not for the “crime” of being Lannister, but for the “crime” of being Cersei and “ruining” Jamie. 

I would not mind criticisms of Dany and her peace-focused approach to ending slavery because the approach is naïve and she gives the slavers far too much ground. However, she is learning, growing and self-critiquing. At the end of A Dance with Dragons, she has decided to embrace fire and blood, her knight is breaking the false peace which is a necessary step forward.

What I find offensive is people saying that she should have planned better before she abolished slavery. And that the death, violence, and sickness that arises from her quest to eradicate slavery is somehow worse than the death, violence, and sickness that already existed in Slaver’s Bay. 

This argument often downplays the horrific conditions and suffering that exist(ed) under the slave system in Slaver's Bay. Such arguments are often in poor taste and prioritise the lives and comforts of the slavers more than the people they have enslaved.

I would not mind criticisms of Dany if people applied that same critique even-handedly. The same people who believe that Jon and Bran have done much to rectify the evil that their ancestors perpetuated believe that Dany has not done anything to right the wrongs of her ethnic kin. They praise them for the non-existent steps that they have taken, but in the same breath, they condemn Dany for not being able to immediately end the plague that is slavery. 

It is perfectly alright to not like fictional characters, no law requires you to like certain fictional characters over others. However, what is not right is making broad accusations about those who do, it is beyond the pale. It is disgusting, and annoying, and trivialises real-world issues to score cheap points against fictional characters.

Equating the survival of a teenage survivor to the restoration of a fascist house or neo-Nazi power fantasy when such designations do not exist in the world of ice and fire is strange behaviour. Saying that the teenage survivor will eventually be manipulated and raped (again) before ending up dead on her manipulator's blade is also strange behaviour. 

Dismissing the horrors of colonialism, especially when the text shows you that the involved parties are still affected by it, is not normal and often veers into real-world imperialism apologia. While criticism and analysis of characters and their actions are valid and even encouraged, it is essential that we do not resort to sweeping generalisations about other people and that we keep criticisms of characters grounded in the text. 

[1]  

Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth.

The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth

Oh, the smallfolk have stolen my forests, they’ve stolen my rivers and hills.

And they’ve built a great wall through my valleys, and fished all the fish from my rills

In stone halls they burn their great fires, in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.

Whilst I walk alone in the mountains, with no true companion but tears.

They hunt me with dogs in the daylight, they hunt me with torches by night.

For these men who are small can never stand tall, whilst giants still walk in the light.

Oooooooh, I am the LAST of the giants, so learn well the words of my song.

For when I am gone the singing will fade, and the silence shall last long and long.

[jamesunderwater]

Jily Microfic - Opponent

@jilymicrofics - feb 27th, prompt: opponent - words: 911 Summary: Lily might have a heart murmur, might have a crush, it's hard to tell, but she's definitely a feminist, and in case you were wondering, she doesn't care at all if another girl shows interest in James Potter. read the rest in this lil academic rivals to lovers series on my AO3, here! (and stay tuned as this is part 1 of 3 for a little end-of-the-month academic rivals finale ;D) Read Part 2 here & Part 3 here!

Lily Evans is a feminist – she’s obviously a feminist. She’s not about to treat another woman like an opponent just because the girl's got a crush on a boy Lily only mildly, maybe, a little bit – she isn’t even really sure she – likes. Especially not if that boy is James Potter. 

(Again, she isn’t sure – it could just be a heart murmur, she’s looking into it.)

So Tamara Campbell told her friend Maritza Acebo who told Mary Macdonald that Tamara thinks James Potter is cute – so what? When Mary asked James what he thinks of Tamara, he only said, “She’s cute, yeah,” and that’s not exactly I’m going to ask her out this instant sort of language. And so what if he does ask her out? The only reason Lily has to care is if some ninny gets James Potter distracted from his studies, leaving Lily without a challenge.

Sorry, not ninny – she’s a feminist. Some girl. Some lovely, “sure, she’s cute” girl, who is probably of at least average intelligence but – it’s only a fact, nothing subjective about it – surely is no intellectual equal to James Potter, and probably only likes him because she thinks he’s some gorgeous quidditch star with sexy hair and a great smile. And, you know, it isn’t Lily’s fault that Tamara’s high-pitched laugh sounds like the laugh of a ninny. Maybe she shouldn’t squeal so loud the entire corridor hears her just because Potter told one stupid joke…

—

“Happy anniversary,” James says, a proud grin on his face. He’s standing in front of Lily’s desk in their office, bouncing on his heels. He’s sure this is an idiotic idea, but since Lily already thinks he’s a fool, James figures there’s no harm in trying his luck. And whether she smiles or just smirks and rolls her eyes, either expression will be better than the perpetual frown she’s worn the last week.

When Lily lifts an eyebrow, he brandishes a plate from behind his back, placing it before her.

“What’s this?” she asks him, her tone flatter than he’d imagined it would be.

“Lemon tart,” James answers, his smile wavering a bit. “It’s your favorite…isn’t it?”

She stares at the plate for what feels like a century, and James can’t make any sense of what’s happening behind her blank expression. Finally, she says, “Yeah, I like it fine,” her voice lifting forcefully. 

James wishes he were being buried alive, or burned at a stake, or plummeting from three hundred feet in the air – anything besides standing here in this moment.

“Oh,” he manages through desert-dry lips. Clearing his throat, James attempts a recovery, his entire face on fire. “Well, I just thought – it’s been two whole months of being Head students together…” This explanation is going terribly. Is there a spell for turning the floor to quicksand? Can it be done non-verbally? “And we haven’t killed each other yet, so…” He forces a chuckle. “Thought we might celebrate.”

Lily looks at him then, finally, and the green of her eyes is wrong somehow. Too bright and too dull all at once. “Yeah,” she says, her lips down-turned. “Quite a feat.”

His heart squeezes in fear and warning bells chime loudly in his ears, but he asks anyway, “Are you alright?”

She clears her throat, and suddenly she’s standing and gathering her books into her arms. “I’m fine. Thanks for the dessert.” 

She disappears in a blur of red, the lemon tart still on her desk.

—

It’s her own fault, really. She should have just said she liked the damn lemon tart. Why didn’t she tell him she liked the lemon tart? Lily stares across the Gryffindor table, where a few seats down James is watching Tamara Campbell giggle at a decibel only pixies could match.

This is the third day in a row she’s had lunch at their table, her blue tie sticking out amongst the rows of red. There’s absolutely a rule about students of other houses switching tables, Lily’s sure of it – and if there isn’t, there really should be. This is…this is fraternizing with the enemy, if you really think about it, given they’ve got a match against Ravenclaw in two weeks. 

Lily grumbles in irritation. Two years ago she’d never have been able to say the quidditch schedule if asked. She’s been utterly compromised. Her Charms essay due tomorrow is only half-written; this morning, her potion was only the third best in class, and she hadn’t even cared about the disapproving look on Slughorn’s face.

Another giggling shriek reaches its crescendo, and she’s simply had enough. Leaving her plate hardly touched, Lily gets up from the table and heads for the door.

“Hey, Evans, hold on a moment–” 

She barely muffles a groan at the sound of his voice, quickening her pace as she passes him. 

James, with his spider-long legs, is beside her in an instant. “D’you mind trading patrols with me on Friday?” he asks, speaking to her like she’s a child on the verge of a tantrum, as he’s done ever since the lemon tart incident.  “I’ve…got a…” He trails off, suddenly looking incredibly sheepish. 

“Fine,” Lily cuts him off quickly to avoid hearing his bumbling explanation. Her anatomy’s gone all wrong; her lungs are in her throat, her heart is in her stomach, her brain's disintegrating altogether… 

She leaves in a rush, eyes burning, unable to tell who she thinks is more stupid: James Potter, or herself.

To be continued...

[mbti-notes]

Funny story, the other day I received a question about the quotation "Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate". (Sorry to the person who asked because I lost track of your handle and must now post the full response here. You're about to see the journey you've sent me on.) The question was vaguely worded, so I can only assume it was requesting a source for the quotation. This struck me as odd for a couple reasons. First, the quotation is widely attributed to Jung, so it shouldn't be very difficult to find the source. When I say "widely", I mean it is not only used all over the internet, it also appears in numerous books. Second, the quotation does a great job of encapsulating a central tenet of Jung's theory, so there is nothing particularly strange or suspicious about it.

Since I'm used to academic writing and wading through research materials, I'm usually diligent about finding the original source of quotations in order to avoid misattributions. But I was lax in this case because I allowed myself to assume that such a well-known quotation must have already been checked by someone. A mistake. A preliminary search revealed that a small handful of people have doubted the attribution, but a definitive answer seemed elusive. So, I decided to take a deep dive into the literature. I searched through Jung's as well as whatever Jung-adjacent and Jung-inspired works I could get my hands on.

I was unable to find a verbatim source in Jung's own writing. However, this isn't enough for me to claim that he never said it. It's possible that it was lifted from a discussion, lecture, or interview, of which the transcripts are not readily available. Jung did write sentences that were remarkably similar to the quotation in meaning, so it's also possible that the quotation was somehow mangled or lost in translation from the original language, which makes it difficult to match up with the official English editions of his work.

I then decided to locate its earliest usage in order to piece together an origin story. The earliest date I could find was ~2006, which is a huge red flag. Books by Jung and about Jung span the entire last century, so one would expect at least a few references from earlier periods, especially throughout the 90s when psychoanalytic theory was widely referenced in a variety of academic disciplines. Of course, books before the 90s haven't all been indexed and made available to search online, so a citation might still exist out there somewhere in a very obscure book.

I then decided to examine books published since 2006 that contained the quotation to see if any included a citation. This was even more of a red flag because, in every case, the authors either did not provide a citation, cited another post-2006 book, or cited a (dubious) internet resource. It turns out that 2006 might be an important piece of the puzzle because it was around then that goodreads.com went online and became a widely used resource for quotations.

Although goodreads makes it clear that they don't verify information, people often trust the website because it is assumed that readers are quoting accurately as they read the actual books. The Jung quotation in question is listed on their website and could even be the first instance, but there was no citation and I couldn't find who originally posted it in order to ask where they got it from. Whoever originally posted it was obviously familiar enough with Jungian theory to capture some of its essence.

In conclusion, I hazard to guess that there are three main possibilities for how this quotation came into being. Around the mid 2000s, someone reading something in the original language posted their own personal translation of it, or they got it from an obscure source, or they fabricated it for reasons unknown. From there, the quotation got picked up by various parties and spread far and wide.

I decided to tell this story because I think it's a good example of how misinformation creeps around online and gradually becomes "reality". The numerous steps I had to go through to investigate this one tiny piece of information illustrates how tedious it can be to verify the things you read. Should we expect the masses to verify every word they come across? It's not realistic, is it? Teachers and parents tell kids to be careful about the internet content they consume, to not take things at face value, to not believe everything they see and hear, etc. But it isn't easy (or fun) to always be on alert even for the motivated, even for this weary and grizzled researcher.

Fortunately, nobody's gonna die from a misattributed quote. But, what about subjects of consequence such as medicine or geopolitics where truth really matters? I love that we have so much information at our fingertips. I just wish we didn't always have to battle against greed and chaos to find the good stuff.