#bouncy's masterpost

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Meeting Lancer

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

It turns out the way to avoid getting eaten by the Eldritch horrors is cartoon logic! And Lancer is well-versed in that! That, and just being an adorable little bouncy pumpkin who absolutely belongs in a less scary universe.

[namfinessed]

untitled - j.jk.

genre: angst, fluff (firstlove! slowburn!) (11.5k)

summary: jungkook was your first love but first loves were supposed to end, they were supposed to be a fond memory to look back on but your first love never leaves your life, nor does he stay in it.

note: this is inspired from my first love <3

masterpost

even if years, ages, and places separate you, maybe you’ll love jungkook all over again every time.

you had met him in school, in college, on a different continent but he never stayed in your life for too long, and you hadn’t stayed in his either.

but now that you believe you wouldn’t see him again, only because you were standing next to your soon-to-be-husband, you believe your never-pausing story needed to be told.

and oh, would you look at that? it seems like jungkook has entered the venue to hear it too.

-

it was the 9th grade when you first met him.

it was simple and so innocent.

you had your new school bag resting behind you, and your shoulders kept knocking against your sisters as the bus drove on the road and abruptly stopped at a place that it never did before; down the lane from your home.

you curiously looked out and heard your bus manager faintly mumbling something about a new student joining the bus.

and there he was, a head full of bouncy hair and a smile that wasn’t exactly present. even as he walked the length of the bus with his head down, he didn’t give off insecurity, it was more like he avoided looking at most people.

he sat down, right behind you, his legs stretching could be seen under your seat and you didn’t look back just yet. you had no idea why.

your sister, sunny, turned around, hand clasping the seat, and eagerly asked, “you’re in B section, aren’t you?” your ears perked up at that, and you subtly leaned in to listen to him.

why you had been curious at all about someone whose face you hadn’t seen, is something that was beyond you but you were consumed inside out with curiosity from the beginning.

he nods at your sister and doesn’t offer another word but when you tilt your head to look back, you see him looking right at you.

that’s when it all began, there were no words at all, just a boy who hadn’t looked at anyone but looked at you as if he could draw you the very next second.

-

your sister, ever the extrovert, talked to jungkook every day, they laughed and made fun of each other, you smiled at their conversations but never contributed yourself. you listened though, and you listened well.

by week two, you knew how he sounded when he was bored.

you knew how his voice hitched when he was excited.

you knew how his voice would get low whenever he pulled a sarcastic joke on your sister.

jungkook’s eyes would dance to the back of your head, wrapped neatly in a ponytail every single morning, to see if you would turn back, to see if he could catch a glance of those small smiles you let out sometimes but most days, he would just talk loud enough for you to hear about him.

he never understood why he had wanted you to listen, but he couldn’t tell you anything directly, and he wanted to look cool, sound cool, make jokes in a cool way, in a way that would make you laugh and once he got home, he always felt ridiculous for feeling that way.

and then, as if a miracle, your sister didn’t come to school one morning, jungkook could see you alone, ponytail brushed back as always, school bag resting on your thighs, and felt a stabbing need to hear your voice, talking to him.

he settled behind you, legs stretching again and his fingers danced on his thighs as he thought of a way to talk to you, just then your head tilted slightly, as if you were trying to catch a look at him and jungkook felt his smile burn into his skin.

“why did sunny not come today?” you jumped as he fully leaned on the back of your seat, your eyes drifted to his face, “she’s not well.”

those were the first words you had ever spoken to him.

“why is she not well?” was not his best, but he needed to keep it going.

sunny was on her period.

“stomach ache,” you murmured, ignoring how his eyes twinkled with each word that escaped out of you. you hadn’t believed that eyes could twinkle up until that day, but then again you think you’ve never seen jungkook’s eyes twinkle with anyone else.

“she must’ve eaten something bad, didn’t she? she seems the type to be careless like that,” jungkook snickered and your face grew red hot, “what she eats or doesn’t eat, isn’t any of your business.”

your tone, your eyes narrowing sharply to glare at him, was a sight jungkook would get used to later, but for now, he didn’t know how to react.

he was taken aback that you had gotten so serious over a simple joke, then it clicked to jungkook that you were one of those oddly protective people. nothing else could explain your red cheeks and furrowed eyebrows.

and he grew giddy.

you were oddly protective.

a new thing he got to learn about you because he had conjured up the courage to start a conversation.

“my bad,” he shrugs into his seat, and his nonchalant response makes you feel guilty, so you sigh and turn back fully to face him.

that was the first time you saw him straight on, with no sideway glances, no peripheral view of him, just his face and nothing else.

“you have adam sir for physics too, right?”

it was something you picked up from the multiple conversations you overheard.

“um yeah?” he wasn’t sure where you were going with this, “does he come into your class with chalk on suspicious places too?”

you were talking about your dear adam sir who constantly came to class with chalk all over the front and back of his pants crotch area, everyone but adam sir himself knew about his crotch chalk.

and jungkook laughs out loud, “oh my god, yes, i don’t know whether to be horrified or mildly impressed with his lack of self-awareness,” and you laughed too.

when you stopped and looked at him once more, he was already looking at you and the smile on your face didn’t break until you reached home.

-

it was normal now, you and sunny would turn around, talk to jungkook until you reached school, and then wait for the evening, when you could talk to him until you reached home.

you were quick to anger, he noticed.

you often fought with guys in your grade with a rage that both scared and fascinated jungkook.

you were calm with people you liked, you were fun with people you liked, you were passionate about things you believed in.

you always were a bit frustrated with him, but you still laughed at his jokes.

he was sarcastic, you noticed.

he had no interest in most things.

he didn’t like drama but always knew everything about everyone.

he always looked at you after he made a joke, as if to check if you thought it was funny, if you thought he was funny.

and you would always laugh, he would always feel a seed of pride in him whenever you turned away, hiding your laughing face in your palms.

you knew he liked you; you weren’t oblivious or stupid.

you’re not sure who he told or how it even came out, but suddenly, everyone around you knew about it.

the rumors started a month after you talked to him, you had known him for six weeks which felt like six years, but you didn’t like him back.

he knew that you didn’t like him back.

but that didn’t stop him from trying to look cool to you.

something his friends never let him succeed at.

on children’s day, you were allowed to wear anything besides your uniform, and that was a very exciting thing then, you always wore your best outfits because your mom believed in looking good and feeling good.

you were standing in the middle of the ground, waiting for your friends to come back from getting food when someone tapped swiftly on your shoulder, it was one of jungkook’s friends, smiling at you as if he knew you. you didn’t know the guy; you only knew he was jungkook’s friend.

“hey, could you take a photo for us?” he mused, you almost said no, but then you peeked around him, to see jungkook with his very huge group of friends, he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at everything but you.

it confused you.

his friend’s smile got wider when he noticed you staring at jungkook, you ignored him and took the phone dangling from his hands, you watched as they all got closer and started smiling.

jungkook’s smile was so small, so invisible, so you yelled, “smile everyone!” and you tried not to smile too when his smile took over his entire face until you couldn’t see anything else.

“thanks,” his friend came and took his phone, jungkook left, eyes glancing over his shoulder where you stood, an unavoidable warmth spread through your fingers.

but you didn’t like him.

not the way he liked you.

right?

-

“he likes you, he told his friends and well, they told my friends, who told me,” sunny rambled beside you, shifting through her closet and you didn’t know what to say, “do you like him?” she turned around to you, eyebrows raised as if she judged you a little if you did, and you shrugged.

“no, how can anyone like him?”

-

you had people who admired you, liked you even, but very few were honest or brave about it.

so, when the sister of a guy who you thought was only your friend, knocked on the window of your seat, you were confused. she smiled, “this is for you,” she pushed a letter, bracelet, and chocolate into your hands once you opened it, running away before you could ask anything.

you saw your friend peeking from the corner of a bus, watching your reaction to his confession, you looked away and shoved the letter and bracelet into the front pocket of your bag.

jungkook watched the whole exchange silently, a strange jealousy settled in his stomach as he looked out the window to glare at your friend, who sadly only had his eyes on you. then, he watched you and tried to understand what you felt from the back.

it wasn’t easy.

his friend gasped and howled next to him, “she got a letter, bro” he teased jungkook loud enough for you to hear, jungkook waited for you to turn around and tell his friend to shut up and mind his own business.

but you didn’t, you didn’t get angry like you usually did.

you were hyper-focused on the bracelet resting in your bag, and jungkook scoffed at it, he could do better, he won’t, but he could.

“she got a letter and you’re still just sitting here,” his friend tutted at him and jungkook shrugged his friend’s arm around his shoulder, scowling at him.

you rested your head on your window and closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the sun penetrate you.

when it was just the two of you on the bus, he leaned forward, “he wrote you a letter?”

“yeah, he did.” it was embarrassing to tell jungkook for some reason, it felt like cheating, receiving a letter from someone else when he was right behind you, though none of those feelings held any validity.

“he gave you a bracelet and chocolate? that’s just childish,” he snickered and expected you to laugh with him but you didn’t, “we’re still kids,” you mumbled instead, and jungkook straightened.

“do you like him?”

“no.”

“do you like anyone?”

“no.”

“why?” he stood with his bag in his hands, the bus waiting for him to get down and you didn’t notice his nervous stammer then, you were too confused by the bracelet and chocolate in your bag.

“i just don’t.” he nodded and left.

you kept the letter and bracelet in your school memories box.

-

somewhere jungkook knew that you knew, but he was always grateful that you acted like you didn’t know.

but it was unbearable for him.

seeing your swaying ponytail every morning, hearing your laughter ring in his ears at times when you weren’t even around him, driving by your house a few fifty times a day to see if you were talking in the balcony sometimes because you did that sometimes, sometimes it felt to jungkook that you did it for him.

sometimes you did it for him, for him to see you.

why?

no one knows.

you and jungkook were friends, only friends.

you and him were friends, but you never talked when others besides sunny were around, your conversations were yours and his, and no one else’s.

you weren’t sure that was how friendships worked, but you thought maybe friendship with jungkook worked this way.

he had your number but he never called, you had his number but you never called.

but one day, right before your final exams started, your phone rang and your heart stopped when you saw his name flash on your screen, you stared at the screen until your phone stopped ringing and didn’t touch your phone until it was night.

you opened it to several messages from jungkook and none of them were about school or the annoying kids on the bus or his annoying friends or your annoying friends.

jungkook: i like you.

jungkook: i think you know that. but i wanted to tell you.

jungkook: i know that you don’t like me, but i like you and i’ve tried to avoid it, but i see you every day, and i can’t avoid you, i can’t avoid how i feel.

jungkook: if you somehow like me, reply to this, if you don’t, don’t. just act as if nothing happened when we see each other tomorrow.

you couldn’t study anymore that night.

the next day, you turned back with sunny and talked to him as if nothing happened, you complained about your syllabus, he laughed that he didn’t even open his books, and sunny bragged that she finished everything and helped him with some important topics.

you ignored the pull in your heart at how openly his affection showed in his eyes now when he looked at you, his sentiment was simple, he had said his bit, and he had nothing to hide anymore but you grew heavy on that seat in front of him, you had everything to hide.

sunny squeezed your hand as you looked out the window.

she knew what happened.

your eyes filled with affection too, gave it away.

-

why did you never tell jungkook that maybe, just maybe, just a small part of you, a part of you that you wanted to destroy, liked him too?

you never understood why your sentiment cowered under layers whereas his laid naked in the world.

and middle school for you, high school for him, came close to ending by the time you ever confronted your feelings.

it was the last day for middle schoolers, you had a whole event thing in the school and dressed up accordingly, you had gone to school with your dad.

but once the day ended, you got onto the bus with a shirt full of your classmates' signatures and notes, you were a little late and flushed from the sun, you plopped down on your seat and fanned yourself.

sunny pulled the scribbled shirt from your hands, “god, you really filled it up,” you pointed to each signature and note, explaining who it was from, and when a huge note from some guy in the class who liked you came, sunny teased you and jungkook glared at the back of her head.

but a knot of sadness formed in his throat, he wouldn’t see you every day after this, he wouldn’t see you sleep on the bus, he wouldn’t hear the r-rated jokes that you whispered to sunny, thinking that no one could hear, he wouldn’t hear you silently cry after a bad day.

to jungkook, today felt like the end of a lifetime.

then you turned around, with tired eyes and a shy but carefree smile, you extended the shirt to him and said, “write something good, jungkook.” he felt as if he was going to fall off his seat.

his name in your voice was something he would remember for years to come.

he asked for a pen because of course, jungkook didn’t carry a pen in his bag that had one notebook, you scoffed and gave him one and he thought for very long.

i love you, felt wrong to write on a shirt that was littered with other people’s love for you.

and as he read each note, jungkook suddenly felt small, so many people loved you, much better people than him, he couldn’t even write anything as a goodbye to you whereas others wrote whole paragraphs.

he wrote something quickly, under your watchful and expectant gaze, and handed the shirt back with a weak smile.

‘be happy, always. jk’ looked back at you and you couldn’t help but laugh at his small handwriting next to everyone else’s. you didn’t notice his dejected posture, nor his distracted gaze out the window.

“really? that’s all?” you said with a teasing smile, extremely amused by his words and he shrugged at you, playing with his hands.

but he felt it when your smile dimmed and you turned around with a silent huff, he felt even smaller as he got down from the bus, craning his neck to see you and your yellow dress, for the last time in the bus that held all his adolescent love.

you didn’t look back at him.

-

your exams ended, you joined high school in a different part of the city, jungkook joined college in a different part but his home remained down the lane from yours.

you didn’t see him as much anymore, you only saw his car drive by through your window, but he did message you whenever he could, even if you didn’t see each other, you knew every person he knew, he knew every overbearing teacher you hated, you knew every class he skipped and that he started smoking, and he still knew just how to make you laugh to make you forget about the pressures of high school.

and calling him a friend, in the midst of all that, felt wrong, it felt so wrong, you were so alone in your high school, and he was the only tie to your familiar and comfortable past, so you confessed.

it wasn’t anything grand, you knew he liked you back, and you weren’t worried about getting rejected, but still, you held your breath as you typed a message to him.

you: i like you too.

you: it took me too long, didn’t it?

his reply was instantaneous.

jungkook: what.

then, your phone rang loudly, it almost fell from your hands and your mom eyed you suspiciously, you called out a friend's name to appease her and ran off to your room, shutting the door behind you and lifting the call with shaky hands.

“you’re not joking with me, are you?”

“no.”

“so, you like me?” you heard the smile in his voice and let your head fall against the door in a blissed-out sigh.

“i do.”

“really?”

you laughed, “really.”

“really, really?” you couldn’t stop giggling at the barely contained excitement and doubt in his voice, “really, really, jungkook.”

“fuck.” you faintly heard his laugh of disbelief on the other line and stopped yourself from sinking to the floor and talking to him for hours.

“text me, my mom’s awake still,” you mumbled, and he sighed but it was happy, it was out of relief, “yes, ma’am.”

jungkook ended the call with the biggest smile on his face, his back resting on his car, slid down as he tried not to squeal and jump in the air and his friends raised their eyebrows at him.

“what happened to you?”

“she told me she likes me,” he mumbled, the words feeling so much like a lie on his tongue but it was true, it was finally true, and even if he didn’t say the name, his friends knew exactly who it was, “holy shit, really?” they crowded around him and started demanding for details but he brushed them all off.

“i have to go, i have to text her, i can’t do that when i drive, you guys will get back by yourself right?” he didn’t wait for their reply as he got into his car and started the engine, all he heard before pulling away was, “that lucky bastard.”

and he was, he was the luckiest man in the world.

-

turns out, jungkook was the luckiest man in the world for a few moments only. you were so sweet sometimes that he wanted to wax poetry about you, but he had expected that after your confession, you could date, he could call you his girlfriend, and you would go out to the movies, he would feed you popcorn and your head would rest on his shoulders.

but.

“i just think labels aren’t necessary,” he tried not to frown too deeply as your voice swam into his ears, “what do you mean?” he sat up on his bed, phone clutched tightly in his hands.

“isn’t it enough that we like each other? why do we have to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“but why shouldn’t we?”

“jungkook, i don’t know how i feel about making it so…permanent,” on the other end of his phone, your eyes gathered tears because you didn’t know why you were saying the words you were, but the idea of dating seemed so immature to you, too troublesome and dramatic, you just wanted to like him and have him like you.

“are we not permanent?” he was only so young and so innocent; the words left him with a delicate veil of terror.

why weren’t you thinking of forever? you were his forever, was he not yours?

“how could we be permanent? we’re kids,” your nervous laughter twisted his guts but he didn’t say a word, “do you not think of a future with me?” jungkook felt pathetic asking the questions he did.

“it’s not like that jungkook, i like you, of course, i do but shouldn’t we worry about us here in the present than somewhere in the future?”

it made sense to you because you were already apart, he was in college, you were in high school, he smoked now, you hated that, you grew more cynical, he hated that and later, you would only be further apart, who was to say you would stand the test of time?

but i love you, hung on his lips.

he just mumbled, “okay.” he never was okay with it and his disappointment couldn’t have been louder.

“jungkook, i still like you-“ your mom called out to you and your panic rose to your throat, “my mom’s calling, i’ll text you, okay?” and the line went dead.

jungkook fell back on his bed, his head was now heavy with you, he couldn’t help but notice that you kept saying that you liked him.

you never said that you loved him.

-

you: our school function is on the 26th, this is our chance.

jungkook: are you telling me i finally get to meet my girlfriend?

you: haha not your girlfriend but yes, you finally get to meet the girl of your dreams.

jungkook: emma stone is coming?

you: very funny jungkook, i’ll block you.

jungkook: now don’t go and do that, what will you wear?

you: you will see that day, what will you wear?

jungkook: you will see that day :D

you: so annoying.

jungkook: only to you :]

you: i’m excited to see you.

jungkook: you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to see you.

-

at the school, your palms grew clammy as you walked around with your friends, and your dress flowed with you as you walked but you didn’t feel pretty that day. like every other teenager, you had a huge breakout of acne just the night before and you had cried, you didn’t want jungkook to see you like this.

you were sure that he had higher expectations for the girl he liked and while you usually didn’t care about others’ expectations of you, you cared about his.

you knew he was already in the school but you weren’t actively looking for him, you wanted to delay meeting him as much as you could, you didn’t want him to see your face and you didn’t look at your phone.

you let yourself be completely occupied with your friends even if you see him walk by a couple of times from the corner of your eyes. jungkook, on the other hand, just didn’t know how to approach you, he didn’t know if he’d be disturbing your time with your friends or if he’d annoy you by acting too clingy, so he stayed away as well.

sunny observed the whole exchange in bits and pieces and couldn’t believe how ridiculous you two were being. as his friend and your sister, she decided to take things into her own hands.

so, as you laughed and talked to your circle of friends, she pulled on your arm, took you aside, and whispered, “dude, why aren’t you talking to him? he’s been waiting for you.”

“i thought he was with his friends,” you lied, and she sighed, “he hasn’t hung out with them, to make sure he had time with you and i don’t know what is going on with you, but your boyfriend is waiting for you and you need to go.”

“not my boyfriend,” you mumbled as she dragged you around to where he was sitting.

until you saw him, very well-dressed, with shiny shoes, a crisp shirt, and a lopsided grin, none of what you had with him felt real.

but seeing him made it real, it made your love for him take a physical form, you weren’t sure you could handle that sense of reality just yet.

romance, love, affection, all of it was easy through a screen but seeing his finger ridges in real life and wanting to hold them, was hard.

“hey,” he mused, patting the spot next to him and you didn’t sit, you hid your face behind your hair and muttered a greeting, and sunny gagged next to you, “can you please not do this lovey-dovey shit in front of me?”

jungkook was enjoying it though, his girl, not his girlfriend apparently but still his girl, was too shy to see him.

the ever-fierce, angry, witty, and smart girl disappeared and in front of him, was just a girl in love. and even if you never said it, he felt it in the moment.

“okay, i’ll go now,” sunny said, but you grabbed her arm, “stay,” you whispered to her and she geared up to start cursing at you only for jungkook to say, “stay, it’s fine.”

he realized that if sunny was around, you would at least say a few things, because right now, he couldn’t see anything but your hair.

so, sunny stayed.

and they talked, you chimed in, it felt like the first day of talking to him on the bus. jungkook observed that you were a bit more grown up now, a bit taller, only a bit though and a bit softer than when you were in school, and just like he loved the loud, rude, and angry girl, he loved the soft, shy, still angry girl, that he was looking at.

you thought he was looking at you because you looked different, uglier, and that he was contemplating just letting you go.

but that night, when you returned home and texted him, you felt like the prettiest girl in the world.

you: so emma stone didn’t come, how do you feel?

jungkook: heartbroken but another girl made it up to me.

you: oh yeah, how was that?

jungkook: it was like i was seeing her for the first time again.

you: and?

jungkook: she’s more beautiful than i remember her being.

you: jungkook, i had pimples all over, you don’t have to lie to me.

jungkook: you don’t know yourself at all if you think some pimples take away from how beautiful you are.

you: you think so?

jungkook: i spent an hour looking at you, walking here and there in the school, so i’m confident about it.

you: i felt ugly today.

jungkook: that happens sometimes.

you: i don’t feel it anymore.

jungkook: you never should.

-

it was five days after the function, on new years, january 1st, that you two broke up.

things had been going so well but suddenly, they weren’t.

after the magical night at your school, he hung out with his friends a lot, and he started drinking, you were still too young for all that, and you were dying in your high school with never-ending exams and classes. both of you had forgotten about each other while also thinking of each other every second you could.

you were supposed to meet him on january 1st, in a café that he was raving about called the terrace, you had planned a whole thing so your parents wouldn’t get suspicious, you would go with your sisters to the café and come back with them, but spend all the time there with him.

it wasn’t easy to go behind your parents' back, it always felt like you were betraying them whenever you talked to jungkook but you were also in love, and your parents took a back seat for you on that day.

you waited in the café, and your sisters constantly asked where he was and when he was coming, you told them he would come in a minute or two, which stretched on for hours and the night ended with your sisters giving you pitiful gazes and long, silent hugs.

you came back home with an anger so familiar, so out of your control that you couldn’t see or say anything else.

“where were you?”

“i got drinks with my friends, i was going to leave i promise-“ and you cut the call, you watched your phone ring again and again until it went dead silent.

jungkook: please talk to me.

you: you know how difficult it is for me to come out with my parents watching my every move, you know how much i planned for this night and i did it because you kept blaming me for never going on dates.

jungkook: typing….

you: and when i do plan for a date, you end up going somewhere else?

jungkook: you think i don’t have a life of my own?

you blinked back tears that your anger let escape from your eyes, that was the first time you felt your chest physically hurt.

you: i never said that, jungkook.

jungkook: you know it’s funny because if you weren’t such a coward, maybe i wouldn’t have to beg you to meet me, maybe we would’ve already gone on dates, and today, i could enjoy with my friends the way i want to. you don’t even let me call you, my girlfriend.

you: don’t you dare call me a coward, my parents aren’t easy to deal with.

jungkook: saying that just makes you sound like even more of a coward.

you: if i’m such a coward, maybe you shouldn’t be with me anymore.

jungkook: maybe i shouldn’t, yeah.

you threw your phone aside, you wanted him to say i’m sorry, i fucked up, let me plan the next one, but instead, he was indifferent, as if nothing mattered to him anymore, as if you didn’t matter to him anymore.

you couldn’t picture this man as the same man who looked at you with stars in his eyes and a scary thought passed through your mind, he was madly in love with you only five days ago, and now, he wasn’t.

people could change, and then hurt you, so you vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t let anyone have the power to hurt you anymore.

you: so, we’re done?

jungkook: yeah.

you: please don’t smoke anymore.

jungkook: what i do is none of your business anymore.

-

and that was that.

you blocked him everywhere and he wallowed in his self-pity for days, you didn’t know how he was, which new people he met, if he smoked two or three cigarettes in a day anymore and he didn’t know about anything going on in your class, or about the new biology subject they introduced or about your friend's antics.

it was like he was never there in your life in the first place.

right after the breakup, you didn’t cry, you didn’t feel anything, you went to high school normally the next day and smiled while telling your friends, “i’m finally single!”

they looked concerned, then they laughed at your indifference to the breakup but your best friend leaned and asked, “are you okay?” and you nodded happily, “of course i am, he’s just a guy.”

but jungkook sadly wasn’t just a guy, he was your first love, your first ever brush with romance.

so, a month passed and you called your best friend.

sitting at the edge of your bed, you told her everything you knew about jungkook, you laughed at how stupid he could be sometimes, and you cursed him out for doing what he did but then, you started crying and you couldn’t stop crying, “i miss him, i miss my friend.”

she listened as you felt your heart finally tear apart inside you.

you knew you couldn’t trust anyone or love anyone again.

this time, it felt like a lifetime ended for you.

-

two years passed and you didn’t think of him anymore, you weren’t sure if he thought of you, you would only be reminded of his existence when exes and relationships came up in conversations with friends, those always ended with you bitterly cursing him.

you hated him.

the guy who showed you how love felt, was the guy you hated most now.

you moved cities, a better, bigger city and you tried to fall in love again, you did try.

you went on dates with your newly found freedom, you tried to like them and their stories, but the only stories that held any value to you from your youth were with or about jungkook. because you felt every face of your youth, with him.

and you couldn’t possibly talk about your first love with guys whose faces bled into each other until they all became one, and jungkook remained another.

but still, you rarely thought of him.

you didn’t think of him when you went on your first date ever (technically, you never went on a date with jungkook), you didn’t think of him when you called that guy every single night and told him superficial things about you, you never told him things that mattered, you had your first kiss and ended your first ever situationship.

but you weren’t hurt at all. you never gave another person the power to hurt you because you felt it once, and you had no intention to feel it again.

and after months of living in another city, you went back home for a while and your best friend insisted on going to the same café where you were supposed to meet jungkook, on the day of your breakup. it wasn’t her fault that it was the only good café in your tiny city.

you went.

you talked and laughed with your friend.

your phone pinged.

jungkook: you’re at the terrace?

perhaps, you forgot to mention that you unblocked him a while ago, it wasn’t to talk to him of course, it was just to remove negativity from your life (you wanted to feel that young love again).

you: yeah.

jungkook: wait.

you turned to your best friend with wide eyes, telling her that there was a huge possibility that jungkook was coming and she grimaced, she never liked him.

then, he strolled in, hands in pockets, and gave you this smile that covered years of doubt, you always thought he would glare at you and hate you but he just walked in, waved at you, and sat down without saying another word.

seeing him this up close after years of watching him from the corner of your eyes and the tilt of your head, filled you with a breathless excitement because he didn’t change, he didn’t change at all.

“hello, it’s been long,” he greeted you, and then the both of you broke into giggles at his formal tone, “it has been long, yeah.” you replied with a nod, begging for your eyes to hide their reviving affection.

then, you talked.

you had years to catch up on so you told him everything, you told him about your college, your still-horrible teachers, your friends, the new places you’ve explored, and how different everything was in the city you studied.

he listened with a carefulness that you never thought he possessed.

a simple but reckless thought caught you by the throat as jungkook leaned forward and laughed at something you said.

is this how it feels to make someone laugh?

is this how a date with him then would’ve been?

did i just miss out on everything good in life?

then, he told you everything and you listened.

jungkook stuttered multiple times because he had truly forgotten how his body got when you were around, he was suddenly aware of his every nerve, and he was aware of his fingertips that were centimeters apart from you, he was aware of your legs that were right next to his under the table and he was aware of you refusing to look at anyone but him as he spoke.

not even once did either of you acknowledge january 1st from two years ago.

“it’s 6 right now,” your best friend reminded you and you gasped, “already? shit, we have to go,” jungkook’s disappointment fell like water over his head and flooded his shoulders.

“where do you have to go?” he asked, as casually as he could.

“we have to meet another friend, a little bit far from here, so we’ve got to get going,” you said, and jungkook nodded, his car keys twirled in his hands, “do you mind dropping us?”

he almost jumped out of his seat to say yes, but remembered himself and nodded once again, “not a problem at all.”

all three of you were silent as you walked to his car which turned out to be a jeep of sorts, no surprises there and your friend got in the back, you got in the front and buckled your seat belt, your chest compressed a bit more as you tried to wave all of this as something friends did.

you were friends with him, in some way.

he got in as well and you felt twitchy in your seat, your eyes took in the unfamiliar car and jungkook watched as you saw another new thing in his life with boundless curiosity.

“you vape now?” you saw the three vapes thrown in the middle of the seat and he shrugged, “sometimes, you wanna try?” you shook your head, both as a reply to him and to shake away the odd memory of january 1st, when you had begged him to stop smoking.

“do you still smoke?”

“yep.”

you didn’t say anything as your heart sank.

he handed you his phone, as if it wasn’t something that contained everyone’s deepest, darkest secrets, he told you his passcode and let you choose whatever song you liked.

and as you scrolled through his song library, you found many songs that you had recommended to him years ago, “you still listen to these?”

jungkook tensed up, clearing his throat, he answered, “sometimes.”

you didn’t probe any further.

you didn’t play the songs you recommended either, things were weird already.

on the way, jungkook talked to your friend and then you, you talked to him, played all the songs you liked and at every stop sign, you ignored jungkook looking at you with a smile and soft eyes, as you turned to talk to your friend.

when you got down, you had a brief, disgusting thought of asking him to drive you around and just staying in his car to find out everything you missed in two years.

but you didn’t, you got down, you thanked him, he tipped his invisible hat at you and smiled, and you looked away, waving at him.

“not a word from you,” you told your smirking friend as you walked away from his car.

the rest of the night, you dreamed as your friends talked and got loud, you sighed as if you had someone to miss, you checked your phone constantly for any messages from him and sighed again when you didn’t get any.

but at midnight, your phone pinged.

jungkook: never thought i’d see you in my car lol.

you: never thought i’d be in your car.

jungkook: well, i’m always there if you need me.

jungkook: for a ride, i mean.

you: i’m always there too.

you: to give you company in your big, lonely car, i mean.

jungkook: is that so?

you: yeah, good night jungkook.

jungkook: god, good night.

both of you fell asleep with hope brimming in your dreams that night.

-

so, it started again, you texted every day, you told him everything you did in a day and he did the same for you, he still had this incredible ability to make you laugh when you felt down and you still fascinated him to no bounds.

and days bled into each other, you returned to the city where you studied, feeling a bit more homesick than you had before.

you got to know that he had failed some subjects in class, “how many?” you whispered as if it was a secret that no one should know, you couldn’t imagine failing, and he laughed, “it’s only five, you don’t have to ask like that,” but five failed subjects would’ve given you a heart attack.

he got to know that you started research with your professor, “will i understand even if you tell me what it is?” and you laughed, “i don’t think so,” he would later console you when the professor steals your work, “he sounded like a dick anyway, you deserve a much better mentor,” he pursed his lips when he heard you sniff on the other end, “do you think so?” and he couldn’t believe how little faith you had in yourself, “of course, i do.”

you started talking at night too, and those conversations, well, you never thought you would think of them again because they were so raw and so true and they reminded you of things that you thought you had forgotten.

through a phone, you both laid your hearts bare.

“have you been with anyone after…” his voice was rougher than you remembered, as if age and life had worn it down but both of you were still so young.

you weren’t as young as you once were though.

“yeah, one guy. and you?” you twisted the necklace resting on your collarbones as you asked him slowly, you didn’t want to know but you also wanted to know.

“a couple of people, yeah.”

“oh.” your disappointment was only felt by the four walls holding you in your room.

“none of them worked out though…none of them felt real,” jungkook bounced the smiley face foam ball in his hand as he stared up at the wall.

you didn’t know if he said that to console you or if it was just how things went.

“why not?”

“well, it all got so physical, there was no love or affection, i mean i didn’t feel it at all,” and you sucked in a breath, trying not to let jealousy coat your tongue when you spoke, “physical, huh.”

“don’t say it like that,” he laughed, sitting up on his bed, “these days, that’s how it goes, it shouldn’t but yeah, i guess sex just takes a front seat in relationships now.”

you didn’t want to talk about sex with jungkook, you didn’t want to know who he did it with.

“maybe.” you answered dismissively and he laughed again, “ey why are you being so awkward about it? it’s a natural thing,” and you groaned in embarrassment, “can we change the subject?”

“of course,” you sighed out in relief, “tell me, have you done anything at all?” you wanted to hit him through the phone and you let him know that, “i’m going to hit you, i swear to god, jungkook.”

“you gotta catch a flight for that now, so” he whistled into the phone and you didn’t fight the smile growing on your face, there were no witnesses except the darkness in your room, you were free to do whatever.

“i’ve only had my first kiss,” and jungkook regretted asking the question.

he had always thought he would be your first kiss.

“oh yeah?” he asked, no longer interested in knowing but for you, because it was already out, you wanted to share more with him, as a friend, so you kept going, “yeah, it was in a car,” your first kiss wasn’t bad, honestly it was everything anyone would want in a first kiss.

after saying that, you realized how dirty kissing in a car sounded, so you gasped and corrected, “but it was just a kiss, nothing else happened.”

jungkook shook his head, smiling into his phone, you still sounded so young, so much like the girl he fell in love with, “you don’t have to explain anything to me or anyone, you know that right?”

“right.” you breathed out, scolding yourself for overreacting.

“but, you know,” he said, in a softer tone, as if his next words contained magic, “yeah?” you whispered, your fingers now clutching your locket with all your strength.

“i love what we had,” and your breath hitched, your eyes filled with tears, and your adolescence that loved him reared its head again, “our love was so pure.” he continued, sighing into the phone as he turned over in his bed.

he never loved anyone the way he loved you, he didn’t even know he was capable of so much love until he met you and jungkook gave up on feeling it all again.

he waited for your reply with bated breath, not knowing if he went too far.

“it was.”

he smiled again; his heart filled with something that he tried to push away.

“don’t you have class tomorrow?” he asked, glancing at the clock that shined bright with 3:34, and you yawned, “it’s fine, keep talking.”

jungkook bit his lip to stop himself from squealing in happiness, you wanted to stay awake just to talk to him, “still, we have tomorrow, we can talk later, you go and get some sleep.”

and there was silence for a few seconds before another yawn came from you, “you know what, you’re right but we’ll talk later,” you said, a bit dazed from how sleepy you were.

“i’m always right,” he snickered and you scoffed, “whatever, good night, jungkook.”

“good night.”

you couldn’t stop thinking of his voice saying that your love was pure even when you dozed off and he clutched his phone to his heart, he could only wait for tomorrow to come sooner.

-

it was nice, not knowing exactly what you guys were or acknowledging your past, it was nice to pretend that you had never hurt each other in the first place. and many days passed by with both of you together, but not together.

“what did you do today?” you hummed into the phone as you fell onto your bed, you heard shuffling on the other side, and then noises, “uh i’m out right now,” his voice came in gargled and broken.

“oh, okay.” somehow, even if you tried to not think of it, you thought of how he never showed up to what would have been your first-ever date because he was out.

“i’ll call you later, is that alright?” he sounded like he was screaming over the sound and you couldn’t help but feel dejected, even if you had no right to feel that way now, “yeah, sure. have fun, good night.” you tried your best to sound perky and the call ended.

what were you even doing?

how did you think that talking to your ex would go or end well?

and why were you even still talking to the guy who broke your trust in people?

you rolled around on your bed, not being able to fall asleep, and not wanting to stay awake either, eventually, you gave up and read a book until you dozed off.

when you woke up the next day, there were no texts or calls from jungkook the way he’d promised he would. you threw your phone aside and got ready for the day.

then you woke up the day after, still nothing from him. and the day after, the day after that, and many days which you spent frustrated and alone.

you should’ve known how it would end with him.

-

jungkook: hellooo (4:40 pm).

you: hey (8:30 pm).

jungkook: busy day? (9:00 pm)

you: pretty hectic, yeah. (10:30 pm)

jungkook: call? (11:04 pm)

you: i’m pretty tired, another day? (11:10 pm)

jungkook: tomorrow? (11:24 pm)

you: another day. (11:37 pm)

jungkook: okay, good night. (11:45 pm)

you: good night. (12: 20 am)

jungkook: typing…

jungkook: typing…

he threw his phone away.

-

you weren’t sure exactly how it happened but soon, there were no messages or calls from jungkook, you heard from sunny that he shifted from the home down your lane but you didn’t bother texting or calling him either, you held your head high during the day and missed his voice in the night.

after a couple of weeks of minimal communication, you returned home with a nervous smile on your face, you hoped no one in your house noticed how often you checked your phone or how you sometimes talked to yourself in the darkness of your room.

you went back to the same café, again it was no one’s fault that there wasn’t a better café in your city, you sat across your best friend, sipping on your hot chocolate and nodding to whatever she said, trying not to avert your gaze to your surroundings.

you’re sure you saw jungkook outside, but you’re not sure if he saw you and a nervous pit sat in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

why did meeting him feel like the first time every single time?

you shook your head, leaning in to hear your best friend until she got up to use the restroom, you leaned back on your chair and let out a sigh.

you couldn’t even enjoy some good brunch without thinking of his ridiculous face.

then, the door opens and you pay no mind to it, you scroll through your phone, liking and watching reels and then someone sits next to you, and your eyes immediately snap up to tell them to fuck off.

but then your eyes melt.

“hey,” jungkook smiles, one of his cheeks pressed against his fist that propped him up and you almost smile back, you almost forget everything again.

the calls he never made, the texts he never sent, how he acted suddenly too busy for you, the invisible rejection, you were ready to forget it all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be okay with that.

“is it easy for you?” he sits up, his smile wavers a bit, “what do you mean?”

“is it easy for you to act like nothing happened? like we never fought and broke up?” you didn’t recognize your voice; it came out so stern but you felt so weak.

“but nothing happened, sure we broke up, but that’s a normal thing, everyone goes through breakups and ends up as friends.”

“are we friends?”

he does not answer, he looks away instead at the painting of a dog on the wall.

and your anger almost runs you over.

“jungkook, are we friends?”

“…yeah.” he hesitates, jungkook feels his heart in his throat as you stare at him with so much disappointment and so much hurt, he never knew that you cared about the breakup, he had always thought that you would’ve moved on very quickly but the tears flashing in your eyes proved him wrong.

he didn’t know what to do with the fact that you were hurt during the breakup, he only pitied himself and thought of himself but he never stopped to think that maybe you had enough love for him, to feel hurt too.

“as my friend, i need to tell you something then,” you gathered your courage, you were going back tomorrow so you wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of it.

“go on,” he bit his lips and tapped his fingers on the table, and your friend walked back in, she raised her eyebrows at his figure sitting next to you and then looked at you with both concern and a thousand questions.

you stared at her with pursed lips and she nodded, grabbing her earphones, putting them on, and sitting across from you, head and eyes turned away from your conversation.

“i think i started liking you again,” you still liked him, “somewhere in the middle, i got a bit confused and my feelings grew again.” you watched his reaction with careful eyes, he only looked back at you with blinking eyes.

“but i don’t like you,” came his reply, and you sucked in a breath, heartbreak fresh as ever settled in your chest.

then, why did you call me at night and tell me our love was pure?

“i know, that’s why i said it in the past tense, i don’t feel that way anymore,” but you did, you just couldn’t do anything about it anymore.

“well then, that’s good, right? we can go back to being normal.” he clapped his hands with a joyous smile that made you want to rip his head off, “no, i don’t think i can do this anymore.”

his hands fell and so did his smile, his ego returned and put a scowl on his face.

“can you make a decision here?” he thought back to all the times you corrected him when he called you his girlfriend and his annoyance grew above his head.

“i am making a decision here, don’t get snappy with me” you spat back at him, your mind flooded with every time he led you on and hurt you, “i can’t do this confusing shit with you anymore, i don’t think we can ever be friends and i don’t see a point in trying to force it.” you huffed out, falling back on your seat.

“so, we just never talk again?” he mumbled, you couldn’t read his face anymore.

“i guess so, yeah,” another lifetime of yours flashed before your eyes as he nodded, pushing the salt and pepper shakers on the table, and then he got up abruptly.

please don’t run, please make me stay this one time, you tried to beg without saying a single word.

“then, let’s do that,” jungkook nodded at you again, he nodded at your friend and left the chair as it was before he ever came.

once again, it felt like he never existed in your life before this.

“are you okay?” your best friend’s earphones were now neatly folded on the table, and you nodded furiously, “of course i am, he’s just a guy.”

-

years passed again.

he cleared his subjects from what you’ve heard, you were done with your degree, on time unlike him, from what he’s heard and jungkook was on another step of his life again.

he stared at the unfamiliar faces in his class with resignation and sighed to himself, jungkook kept lifting and dropping his phone at every notification and groaning every time he saw it was from his life insurance, his one message remained unread.

jungkook: i start my master's today. (5:00 am)

he stared at the message until his eyes grew blurry, it was noon now and you hadn't seen it, intentionally of course, and just when he put it down one more time, he heard a ping.

you: good luck. (11:45 am)

he stared at it until he grew annoyed and deleted the entire chat.

-

you were going to america to study, it had taken a lot out of you in preparation for it and after hugging your parents and family goodbye and crying for hours in the airport, you pulled out your phone and nervously hovered over his profile. you started typing with dried-up tear streaks on your face.

you: i’m going to america today.

jungkook: really?

jungkook felt uneasy about the sudden large distance between you two even if you hadn’t spoken in ages.

jungkook: all the best.

jungkook: be happy, always.

you bit your lip as you looked away with a quivering chin and tears lined your eyes again, you deleted the entire chat too.

-

a year into being on a new continent, you felt all kinds of homesickness and excitement for your new home still, you worked harder than you ever had. and as bad as it sounds, you had forgotten that you once knew a boy called jungkook or that you ever loved him with your entire being.

he had become a thing of the past, something you never talked about anymore even if your friends brought up exes and relationships, he became a ghost of sorts, and only you could see him now.

you didn’t know what he was up to, if he ever finished his masters or racked up backlogs there too and you didn’t bother yourself by thinking about it too much.

but when it came to jungkook, you didn’t have to think about him to come into your life, he just came and went whenever he wanted.

nothing else could explain why you would find him, of all people in the world, under the neon lights of a house party that you were at, on a different continent.

and you didn’t feel anything, not any residual love or even the desire to be near him, you just felt wary about seeing him again.

he also saw you and gave a nervous smile. you smiled back and disappeared into the balcony.

suddenly, your wariness grew into pain, and your pain grew into a longing that you shouldn’t feel anymore.

you slid down on the wall and brought your knees up to hug them as you laid your head on your thighs and breathed, just breathed.

the balcony door opened again.

you knew who it was. maybe you had hoped that this would happen too, but for now, you didn’t look at him.

you heard his groan as he sat down beside you, his hands and knees almost touching yours.

and that’s when you realize, in all the years you’ve known him, this was the closest he ever came to you.

was this why he had called your love pure then?

because you had never touched each other, but felt each other in every corner of your existence?

“what are you doing here?” you whispered into your legs but he still heard you, “vacation, didn’t think i’d see you here.”

“i didn’t think either.”

“kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?” he laughed with emotion you couldn’t decipher, his warmth bled into you as you leaned on him a bit.

you felt the shape of a cigarette box in his pockets but swallowed your hurt.

after years, maybe you just wanted to touch him and see what it’s like. and he didn’t question your knees knocking against his.

“that we keep running into each other? i’m starting to think you stalk me,” you teased, a small weight of your longing lifted off you.

“oh please, if anything, you are stalking me,” he teased right back, feeling himself ease into this situation with you, just like every other time.

but as nice as it was to be this comfortable, you were still so consumed with questions that haunted you. and there was no one else here, no best friends, no sisters, no parents to worry about, no one but you and him.

“why didn’t you admit that you liked me back then?” you lifted your head to stare at him, there was no malice in your question nor any accusation, just curiosity.

“so, you knew?” he cleared his throat with a sheepish smile on his face, jungkook’s eyes shined the same way they had when you were in that bus, all those years ago.

“you told me our love was pure at 3 am, it wasn’t too hard to understand,” you shrugged, as if saying it out loud didn’t take your entire heart out of your chest.

he shook his head while laughing softly, “always such a smartass,” and you smiled, “you’re just too dumb.”

that’s when he really laughed and the stars of the night came together to light his face up as he threw his head back, you stopped yourself from falling in love again.

“well,” he breathed out, jungkook’s face contorted to become more serious and you knew that whatever he said next took a lot for him too.

“you always felt too big for my love, as if i could give you everything and that still wouldn’t be enough.”

your eyes dropped at their corners.

“what?”

“i don’t know, you were always so passionate, so good to others, so fucking smart and you had your shit figured out, you always told me these things that sounded so magical but i never fully understood them. i knew i couldn’t ever match up to that, even if i loved you with all of me,” he whispered, he clenched his eyes shut to avoid looking at you as he spoke, “i knew that even if i loved you, i couldn’t love you the way someone else could, someone who could love and match up to you.”

“jungkook,” you whispered too but your voice broke, and your throat grew scratchy with emotion.

“i’m telling the truth by the way, when you said you were leaving for america, it took everything in me to not pack a bag and follow you,” then, he opened his eyes and looked at you, you felt like you were back in 9th grade, staring at him with a tilt of your head.

“why did you say you stopped liking me then?” he asked next and waited patiently for you to wipe the corners of your eyes.

“i was always afraid that somewhere i would disappoint you and the idea of our relationship. you liked me so much and i felt that i had to live up to what you liked, otherwise, you wouldn’t like me and i’d be alone again,” you whispered the last part slower than anything else, “that wasn’t your fault though, i guess i was just scared of not being who i thought we would be.”

you sniffed and stared at your feet that lined up with his.

he stayed silent beside you until your sniffs grew louder.

then, he pulled your head over his shoulder and let you cry until the sunrise came and took away everything that the night tried to protect.

you woke up in an empty bed the next morning and when you left, you saw jungkook sitting on the couch, long arms stretching over the back of it, you stopped for a second to see if he’d get up and wrap them around you, to acknowledge all the love he showed you last night, you waited for him to utter a word that would make you stay.

but he only blinks at you.

you run out the door, you don’t know if his voice calling to you was him, or a creation of your deepest, most shameful wishes.

-

several years passed once more.

you don’t know why you invited jungkook to your wedding, you didn’t know if he would even come, but seeing him enter through the same doors that your now-husband had, pierced you with something sharp. he came up the stage, his eyes never left your face, and stood next to you for a photograph.

you didn’t look to see if he smiled or not. his hands hovered over your waist and your breath got caught in your throat, jungkook handed your husband a bouquet with a polite smile, he looked older, and quieter but his eyes remained shiny as ever.

when he started to pull apart and leave, you grabbed his arm, “stay for dinner, okay?” and he nodded, giving you a playful salute and exiting the stage.

you smiled at your husband and continued to take photos.

at dinner, you and your husband sat next to him as polite hosts would and talked about superficial things; jobs, taxes, work-life balance, and life.

“i think i’ll leave now,” he got up from his seat and you got up too, “i’ll see him off and come back,” you squeezed your husband’s hands which jungkook looked away from.

outside, it was just the two of you again.

“do you love him?” you weren’t shocked at his question.

“i do.” you really do.

“but you never loved me, did you?” he laughed bitterly, but his face held years of hurt and you held back your tears.

“i did.” you really did.

jungkook had been waiting to hear those words for half of his life and now that he’s heard them, he thinks he can let you go now.

“it was not easy for me to invite you.” you admitted with a nervous laugh, your eyes darting down to the gravel road.

“it isn't easy for me to be here,” he loosened his tie around his neck and his voice now reminded you of how old your first love got and how far away you were from the bus where you fell in love.

“but god, after so long,” your voice held every bit of yearning and nostalgia you felt.

a montage of your very young, very long, and very stupid love played in your eyes and you blinked it away.

“it sucks that we didn't work out.” it didn’t just suck, if jungkook told you how he really felt about seeing you with your husband, you would slap him.

he could do better, he won’t but he could.

“maybe we were just supposed to love each other then, you know? maybe it wasn't supposed to grow at all,” you answered, even if you knew it wasn’t entirely the truth, your love growing was out of your control.

but maybe you two weren’t ever supposed to love each other so much, maybe you were supposed to love each other a little and then let it go but both of you had been stubborn, both of you clung onto the innocence of your love, something that you paid the price for, for years.

“i dont know about all that, i just know that our love was-“

“pure.” you told and jungkook smiled, shaking his head, “yes, pure.”

“i still don't know why i loved you so much,” jungkook wondered why it had started, the deep infatuation and affection he held for you, was unnatural.

“i don't either,” you never understood why your lives were entangled for so long.

“will i see you again?” there was no hope in his tone, only a simple question with a simple affection.

“no, i think this is a good ending point, don't you?”

“so i don't get to show off my wife like you showed off your husband?”

“well in that case, maybe we will.” though, you burned on the inside as you imagined another person standing next to him.

“right, maybe we will.”

a silent smile passed between you two and when jungkook left, he squeezed your hands, “thank you for letting me feel love so early in my life. i wish you and your husband well.”

“thank you for loving me so early in my life. i wish you and your future wife well.”

he walked away but he looked back.

please don’t stay with him for too long.

you gave a weak smile.

please don’t find someone else.

and then you separated, another lifetime ended but this time, for the both of you.

[luigra]

By the way I&'ve been making these tiny little bouncy 20x20 minimcyts for the past two days!! You can check out the masterpost here, they're all free to use!

[ayu-stuff]

Hi!

I think it's time for a masterpost, so my horny wittle followers can easily retrieve my lustful stories whenever they want. You should already know it, but I mainly write about ABDL cuckqueaning, even if my main goal is to make blush as many little babies as possible. In reality, I like humiliation and dumbification of any kind, especially abdl related. Small breast humiliation and language control are also favorites of mine.

Feel free to write me #asks and DMs, I don't (necessarily) bite. It's important to bear in mind, though, that I'm not anyone's fetish dispenser and that I may not respond right away, or that I may set any specific boundaries when chatting. As I always say, enter at your own risk.

This being said, up to date I've written the following stories, which can be found under #my captions:

"Ich liebe dich, Mama" (part 1 of 2) (in collaboration with M.)

"I'm sorry!"

"Mr. Fluffles"

"She's so cute"

"Bouncy bouncy baby" (also a favorite)

"Is somewone embawwasseddd??"

"Family vacation"

"Party attire" (I love this one)

"Edge for Mommy, sweetie"

"Envy"

"Time-out"

"Interrupted"

"Baby's First Beach Trip"

"Are you comfortable back there, sweetieee?" (my first one, and probably my personal favorite)

There are also some #shorts you might like...

Have fun, and enjoy my deviations! Good little girls should edge to them almost daily. And boys. And everyone.

[hawkins-losers]

ROBIN BUCKLEY MASTERPOST

* = smut/18+ content

A different kind of chemistry

You and Robin study Chemistry together, but Robin eventually gets bored of studying

Caught red handed * | Hopper!Reader

Hopper finds out his daughter likes girls

I don’t want to be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips 

Robin doesn’t believe you have a crush on her

I like a woman who can handle guns

You and Robin had a little talk before the big battle

I loved you without the ‘d’

Robin brings her new girl to movie night and you’re upset

Nightmare on Elm street vs Halloween

You and Robin have a heated cinematic debate about horror movies

Religion’s in your lips, the altar is my hips * 

Robin show you girls do it better

Sensoriel issues

Robin has to wear Nancy’s uncomfortable clothes to go meet Victor Creel

She wears short skirts, I wear tee shirts | cheerleader!Reader (coming soon)

Robin Buckley, the girl who liked to be out of the box, had fallen for a high school cliché with lip gloss, a bouncy ponytail and a mini skirt. A fucking cheerleader

BLURBS

You pay Robin a visit at 2am

You got injured during the ‘earthquake’ 

Teaching Robin how to drive…in Billy’s camaro | Hargrove!Reader

A kiss on top of the ferris wheel

Robin talks too much about Vickie

Robin reads the situation wrong

Insecure!Robin

Erica and Lucas react to you and Robin dating | Sinclair!Reader

Eddie walks in on you and Robin

You finger Robin | Warning: smut, fingering, praising

Robin is skeptical and confused when you tell her about a new thing you want to try. She gives it a try anyway | Warning: smut, scissoring, 

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Masterpost 32

General asks

S/O has the same personality as skeleton (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton goes to a pride parade (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

S/O starts a prank war with skeleton (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

S/O tries to hide they have a bad day because of chronic pain (UF Papyrus, HF Papyrus, SF Sans, FSG Sans, MF Papyrus)

Skeleton's kid plays hide and seek so well he can't find them (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton's teenage daughter asks them to make a teenager they don't like stop harassing her (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

Undertale characters go to a pride parade (UT characters)

Error goes to a pride parade (Error)

First date with S/O (UF Papyrus)

Five Nox headcanons (SF Sans)

Red and Oak's relationship (UF, HT Sans)

Rus finds out Nox has a girlfriend (SF Sans & Papyrus)

S/O forgot the mic was on at MTT restaurant and makes the entire restaurant laugh (UT, US, UF Sans + Ink)

S/O drags skeleton to a trampoline park (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

S/O and Skeleton's child are freaking out because of a huge flying cockroach (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

First thunderstorm on the surface for skeleton (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

The Undertale crew is having fun on a lazy river (UT characters)

S/O wants to climb tall skeletons (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Papyrus)

S/O destroys Skeleton's brother while Skeleton is on a grocery trip (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton's child is held with a knife by Skeleton's rivals (UF, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

S/O smacks skeleton in the face while sleeping (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

Someone makes fun of skeleton in front of him (US, UF Sans + Ink)

S/O wears elegant clothes and listens to death metal (UF Papyrus, SF Sans)

S/O wants to help Willow feels pretty (HT Papyrus)

S/O's pet is scared of skeleton (UT, US, UF Sans + Ink)

S/O goes on a vacation with a friend (UT, US, UF Sans)

A llama spits on skeleton (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton's brother brotherly bond (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

S/O had a nightmare and got scared of skeleton when they woke up (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

S/O has to go to the hospital but the hospital doesn't believe they're sick (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

The chickens kidnapped skeleton's child (HT, HS, HF, FT Sans & Papyrus + SF Papyrus, FSG Papyrus, D!Papyrus, DuT Sans)

Skeleton tries a period cramp simulator (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

Skeleton's child prefers their dad over their other parent (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

S/O notices skeleton is happy watching a TV show (UT, US, UF, HT, SF, FSG Sans & Papyrus)

S/O gets struck by lightning but acts normal afterwards (UT Characters)

Other things

Why the main 10 if they're 12

8 a.m in the (fucking) neighborhood

Myfanwi talks

Tiot Batiche memories

Thor is fast boi

My country voted for far-right and there's nothing to be proud of

Thor has THE schtick

Mjöllnir thinks he's a parrot

Bouncy boys

Queer ghosties

Little reminder about my headcanons

In Color

World Day Against Pet Abandonment

[naminethewriter]

Thank You for Finding Me

Chapter Two: Interesting Choice

Masterpost | Previous | Next | Ao3

@intrulogicalweek

Story Summary: Logan didn’t date or really had any friends but when this strange guy asks him out while complimenting his posterior, he can’t help but be intrigued.

Content Warnings: Rage Room, References to Childhood Emotional Neglect, this one ran away from me guys, I don't know what to say

~~*~~

It took them a week to meet up again. True to his word, Remus’ texting habits were rather unstable. He could be texting with Logan for half an hour straight before suddenly not replying for hours, even in the middle of conversations.

Logan truly didn’t mind. While he didn’t get distracted while in the middle of talking, he did occasionally not answer his phone for a long time if he got absorbed into a book. What mattered to him was that Remus was fun to talk with. They didn’t talk much about personal things – Remus believed that that would be more fun to do in person – but they shared a lot of common interests.

Now Logan was waiting for Remus in front of the library he worked at. It was his day off, but it was a convenient place to meet up since it was apparently not far from where Remus wanted to take him today.

Remus had insisted on planning their first date as he had been the one to ask Logan out but warned him that they weren’t going to ‘do anything of that typical shit’ and that ‘it’s going to be far more interesting.’ Again, Logan couldn’t help but be intrigued by Remus.

“Hey, Logie!” Remus had basically not used Logan’s actual name since their first encounter and while he usually would protest such things, with Remus he didn’t mind as much.

“Hello Remus. I hope you are doing well?”

“I’m fantastic! I get to take a hottie out! What could be better?”

A light flush spread across Logan’s cheeks, he wasn’t used to such overt compliments and as he became closer to Remus, he was more affected by them. He appreciated such words from strangers but those didn’t fluster him nearly in the same way.

“Then please lead the way.”

“Sure thing! I’m excited!” Remus practically skipped back down the street he had just come from, and Logan followed him in measured steps. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“May I now inquire as to what we will be doing?”

“You may.”

Logan waited for him to elaborate for a few seconds before he saw the other’s teasing grin and understood his attempt at a joke.

“…What will we be doing?” he repeated, and Remus cackled for a moment.

“We will do one of my favorite activities. I think it brings out sides of people they don’t really know about or try to hide and I, for one, would like to know those in particular before committing to something. My brother says I’m unhinged for doing that to people only a few dates in.”

“I was unaware that you have a brother.”

“A twin, actually. His name’s Roman. He’s a prick and annoying. Love him to bits.”

“I see.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“No. I am an only child. As are my parents. I have no other immediate family members.”

Remus’ bouncy attitude deflates a bit, and he levels with Logan so that they are now walking side by side.

“That sucks. My family isn’t huge or anything, but I have a few cousins who are around my age. Made family holidays much more bearable.”

“We didn’t celebrate any holidays.”

“Man, you’re family sounds like a buzzkill.”

“I will not argue your point.”

“Makes our destination all the more appealing in my opinion!” Remus grinned, lightly grabbing Logan’s arm as he said so and pulling him to a nearby building. But instead of using the front door that seemed to be leading into an electronics store, Remus led him down a set of stairs. The sign above the door at the end read ‘Wrack and Shout’. Logan still had no idea what they were here for.

“What kind of establishment is this?” he asked, slightly concerned.

“Rage rooms!” Remus said, excitedly and pushed the door open. “’Sup Amanda!” he yelled inside, and Logan looked past him to see a woman with bright pink hair at a counter.

“Remus! Back again with a new face! Sometimes I feel like we should be paying you for all the advertisement you’re basically doing for us.”

“Eh, you can’t tell me that even a third of the people I’ve brought here actually come back.”

“True. Well, your usual room is ready unless you want anything more specific to request?”

“Nah, if anything comes to mind, we’ll let you know.”

“Sure thing. Then I just need your partner to sign the safety wagers.”

“Why do I need to sign a safety wager?” Logan asked as he followed Remus to the counter and eyed the paperwork he’s presented with.

“It’s basically an agreement that you’re going to wear the appropriate gear and are aware that there are some injury risks. I’ll explain it to you in a moment, it’s easier when you see it. Just trust me.”

Logan hesitated for a moment longer but the expression on Remus’ face won him over and he signed his name after skimming over the document.

With that Amanda thanked him and went back to what she was doing before and Remus gently pulled Logan deeper into the establishment.

“I still don’t understand,” Logan admitted.

“You don’t know what a rage room is?”

“No, I do not.”

“That’s fair.” Remus stopped in front of a door and pulled it open, ushering Logan inside. It was a smaller room akin to a changing room. On one wall hang two hardheads with plastic visors attached, thick gloves and an assortment of jackets and other protective gear for arms and legs. Opposite of that was a display of different weaponry. Sledgehammers, saws, bats, clubs and more.

“This is a lot to take in…”

“I know. But to explain: The door over there leads to the actual rage room.” Remus points to a door across from them. “In there are old electronics, some pottery and other things we are free to destroy any way we like. It’s meant as a way to release pent up emotions, especially anger as it says in the name. To be safe we have to wear the helmets and gloves, but the other stuff is optional. I did tell you to wear clothes you don’t mind getting dirty, right?”

“Yes. Both my jeans and shirt are rather old, and I would not mind parting with them.”

“Good! I would advise you to grab a jacket though, some of the stuff splinters and your shirt seems on the thinner side.”

“I still do not understand why we are doing this,” Logan commented as they got dressed, Remus helping him to find something that fit him.

“Well, I think anger is something that tells you a lot about others. How do they express it? What makes them angry? Most people won’t show that side of them easily because they think of it as them being at their worst. And that’s probably a fair judgement. But isn’t that kind of the point of being in a relationship? That you’re willing to be with the other even at their worst? So, I think this is super valuable to see if you mash with someone. Also, it’s a very artificial situation so it probably won’t be your worst worst self. Just a part of it.”

Logan took a moment to digest Remus’ words. Yes, he could see the merit behind his tactics.

“You are quite wise.”

“Thank you! Can I record that and send it to my brother?” They both chuckled and Remus held open the door for Logan to step into the rage room as they were both fully equipped.

The room wasn’t much bigger than the one before it. Left of the door stood a table with some plates and cups and decorations that Logan guessed were easy to shatter. On the ground a little further into the room was an old tv, a wooden shelf that looked like it would fall apart even without their help and some chairs.

“If there’s anything more specific you wanna smash, we can go to Amanda and see what they have in stock,” Remus said as he pulled the door closed behind him. He placed one of the smaller hammers on the table and held out a metal bat for Logan to take. “You didn’t take anything, so I thought this was a good starting one. I call dibs on the shelf!”

“Be my guest.” Logan accepted the bat and watched as Remus hopped over to the shelf and positioned it more to his liking before swinging the sledgehammer he had brought in for himself down on it. The wood groaned as it split in half and Remus cackled in delight.

“Oh, Amanda knows exactly what I like!”

Logan watched as Remus continued to bash into the shelf for a good minute. Then the other let out a satisfied breath and turned back to Logan.

“It feels so good, Log-dog! You should give it a try!”

“I did not like that nickname.”

“Noted! So, gonna try something?”

Logan looked down at the metal bat limply hanging in his grip. He didn’t feel like swinging it all that much. Maybe he should start smaller? He decided to prop it against the table for now and grabbed one of the plates. It was colorful but chipped.

“Do I just… throw it?” he asked, unsure.

“If you want! You could also place it down and take the hammer to it. Or the bat. There’s no wrong way to do it, really. Just think of something that made you mad recently or annoyed you. Channel that and see what feels right,” Remus shrugged.

“Why would I try to recall such a thing?”

“To let out the frustration! Did you never feel like punching someone who got on your nerves?”

“I do not think so. My parents always said that acting on emotions is a foolish thing to do.”

“I mean, yeah, you shouldn’t actually punch people unless they start it, otherwise you’re the one who’s going to get in trouble with the pigs. But it’s not about action, it’s about feeling. That you can now convert into action. Make sense?”

“Not really. I was raised to put logical thinking above emotional response. Instead of getting angry, I was taught to find the root of said feelings and work out a solution.”

“Wow, your parents sound like the worst kind of buzzkills,” Remus frowned. Logan simply shrugged.

“They had a very narrow view of the world.”

“Are they dead? You talk about them as if they were dead.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen them in years. My grandfather convinced my father to give him full guardianship of me when I was around fifteen. I saw them occasionally after that but they both moved for new jobs eventually and I have had no contact with them since.”

“Your choice or theirs?”

“Both, I suppose. It never really occurred to me to reach out to them.”

“What about your grandfather? Is he in contact with them?”

“No. He passed away a few years ago. I inherited all his assets as agreed with my father beforehand. As per my grandfathers wishes, I scattered his ashes so there was no funeral of my parents to attend.”

“My condolences. But, you have such a screwed family history and there’s no anger behind any of it?” Remus tilted his head. It might have riled someone else up, but Logan could see the worry behind his eyes. “No feelings on how they treated you? You said you didn’t celebrate holidays either, right? Did you do anything for fun as a kid?”

“I enjoyed learning to play piano.”

“But you didn’t choose to learn yourself.” It was a statement, not a question and yet, Logan nodded. “Was there anything you chose to do? Hobbies, friends?”

“No. They had a lesson plan for me since I could walk and talk.”

“And that doesn’t make you angry?”

“I guess I never thought about it. That’s just how things were. Until grandfather took me in. He also told me that I didn’t have to choose one of the careers my parents wanted me to pick.”

Remus nodded along to his words seriously. He made his way over to Logan and gently led him to the middle of the room. He stood behind him, placing his arm against Logan’s that was still holding the plate. Again, very gently, he guided it above their heads.

“Okay. Then I want you to think about your parents. I want you to think about every time they told you what you were going to do without letting you tell them what you wanted to do. All the times when you did tell them what you wanted, and they shut you down because it didn’t fit their vision for what you should be. All those shitty feelings you buried in yourself because they told you to do it. And when you think you remember what you felt back then, I want you to put all those emotions into your arm and throw the plate.”

Logan closed his eyes. He didn’t like thinking about his childhood. He didn’t understand the way his stomach twisted when he did. But that was probably what Remus was talking about.

He took a deep breath.

Let it out slowly.

And threw.

The porcelain scattered against the wall. Pieces flying everywhere.

And Logan had never felt so alive.

[cyrusthemagician]

☀️SUNBIE!🎀 TADC OC INFO/MASTERPOST☆

Name: sunbie

Age: 26 (joined at 16)

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her ………………………………….

Likes: being outside, being squeezed, waffles, flowers, sunny days, magic, Caine, Her close friends, music, comforting silence, staying in her room

Dislikes: being alone, mentions of the/an exit, needles, humanoid looking circus members, Jax, being picked up abruptly, leaving her room in the day, loud noises, fights, violence, people touching her

Personality: a shy and curious bear, always looking for someone to talk to or somewhere to hide. She usually stays in her room under her bed. rather jumpy, anxious, and aloof as well as being naive and worried at times. She used to be a more bouncy and willing person, more recently she's shut down and avoids talking to others unless needed or leaving her room or hiding spots. she can be very excited and energetic when around people she cares about or trusts. gets scared easily and is pretty self consious, she dosnt deal with her situation easily and hides often.

backstory: After attending her parents and siblings funeral after the plane crash that killed them she lived with her friend and boyfriend. She was low on money and picked up a job at C&A as it was her only option. She worked there for a month before being offered to test run the headsets, with the recent disappearances she said no as she felt the headsets were connected in some way, a gut feeling. A week later after the offer her boyfriend passed away and she hit rock bottom, she knew if the headsets were connected to the disappearances like she thought, that she wanted to disappear as well. she took the offer and it was too late to reconsider before she was sucked in.

!Relationships chart!

!Extras!

arrived sometime after ragatha did

………………………………….

her bow resembles the one her partner gave her pre circus

...........................................

playlist: Sunbie

...........................................

the 'fabric' she's made from rips and falls apart easily

...........................................

does magic performances with Cyrus (she looks up to him and wants to be as good at magic as he is due to his uncanny resemblance to her abstracted friend)

----Now Sunbie has magic right? but how far can it really go?---- sunbie's magic info!

!More art!(au vers included)

[oatmealdaydreams]

Hearthfire (1/16)

Prologue | Before

Masterpost // Next ->

--- --- ---

Summary: The past is important for the present. Orange recounts what it was like Before.

Warning: none; let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2301

--- --- ---

“Hope is a renewable option: if you run out of it at the end of the day, you get to start over in the morning.”  - Barbara Kingsolver

In the Beginning, when young Rainbow was still growing and developing, there were no Sides; there were only shapes and colours and forms. 

There were many different shapes and colours. Abstract and strange, not yet in a solidified form. There were some who stayed in the darker parts of little Rainbow’s Mind, and there were some who flocked to the lighter parts. There were even some who travelled between all parts of the Mind, a neutral tendency. 

Their colours differed among them. Some were Blue, or Yellow, or Purple, or an array of two different things. There’d been the joint colours of Red and Green, and there’d been Orange as well. That is, before One became two, and Red and Green had to separate. 

There was once a Pink, but there isn’t one anymore.

The coloured shapes would buzz and zip around each other. The Blues- as there were two of them- would swirl around each other as if recognizing their similar colour. The lighter Blue, namely a Cyan, was an excitable shape. It always had the energy to jump about, bumping into the flexible inner walls of young Rainbow’s Mind. The other Blue, an Indigo, was more of a steady shape. It was like a guide, sometimes blocking the other shapes and forms from knocking too much against the Mind. 

Now, of course, young Minds are flexible and not quite with-shape yet. So, there were often times when the Mind would change and shift, and the shapes had to adjust to the new experiences. There were a few times, though only one could recall, that the blending light and dark bits could swap into different places. Those were times when the Mind and its shapes went chaotic and even frantic. Not all shapes were good with the sudden changes of a young Mind, but all shapes could be… well, shaped. None of them were concrete or definite yet. 

Once separated, Red and Green would do anything to shift back to each other, as if them being close would let them fuse again. They were too different to go back to their haphazard form. They had to adjust to being two instead of One, and neither seemed to adhere to the lighter and darker parts for some time. Eventually, they understood one of them was Welcomed, and the other was Not Welcomed. It was… an odd thing to experience for these shapes in particular. 

Yellow didn’t seem to care for the lighter bits, and so it shifted to the dark quite willingly. Besides, there was chaotic Green and jittery Purple to keep company. Purple was a skittish form, spikey and reactive. Yellow was much more flexible and almost like a long, stretched-out mess of tubes and spiny points. Green, however, was always shifting shape, never staying still for more than a second. 

Its brother shape was the same, except for when Indigo gentled it into something more Welcomed from time to time. 

Yellow was more like Indigo, in regards to being more steady and still. The difference was that Yellow would shift as well, just like Green and Red. Though not as sporadic as the other two, it’d flex and bend into different things like camouflage. 

Steady Indigo did not shift and flex the way Red, Green, and Yellow did. Excitable Cyan was much more bouncy than shifty. Purple would only shift and bend and morph if it faced an absolute need to. 

Orange, ever seemingly alone in its entirety, would not stick close to any of the other shapes or forms. It watched from shadows, from dark corners, as the Others shifted and bent and curled. It was unclear whether it shifted or stilled; none could say. None remembered things quite like Orange did. An odd form, it was, lurking and distant. None knew its shape, it seemed. The truth of what it looked like Faded alongside everyone else’s memory of Before. Not Orange, though. 

It was the First, and it has seen everything. 

Orange does not forget. 

Orange does not reveal.

Orange does not touch. 

Orange watches. Orange waits. Orange remembers. That’s how it was; that’s how it has always been. 

=====

As Rainbow aged and grew, so did his Mind. 

Thus, as the Mind became a little more definite and structured, so did all of the shapes and forms who shifted about. They all began to take more of a concrete form of what they’d represent for Rainbow, taking on how their centre viewed their soon-to-be functions. Different things internalized from outside influences, and it affected what the coloured shapes slowly became. 

The light and dark of the Mind didn’t blend together as much at that point. Something close to a line- a border, they supposed- formed as Rainbow’s mindset was shaped and molded by the outside world. It was harder for certain colours to visit each other with such a divide becoming definite. The dark became darker; the light became lighter.

The grey was torn at its seams, Fading away like a dreary mist. 

Different shapes and forms shifted and morphed into creatures of familiarity, sourced from the outside wildlife young Rainbow had seen and heard about. Indigo and Cyan became more distanced and othered from each other as they changed. Instead of being similar beings like they once, their ‘animal’ forms were almost opposites. Clever Indigo became something of a feathered, dark fowl; it went from ‘it’ to ‘he’, and he became what closely resembled a corvid. A creature of the sky, avian in nature and guiding like the Northern star, Polaris. Cyan became a creature of both land and pond, of both earth and water elements. A frog, bright and smooth-skinned. He stayed below; Indigo stayed above. This is when they first started to diverge, and if you ever see them now... well, it only gets worse from there, doesn’t it?

Red’s animalistic form was... tricky, to say the least. It wasn’t that strange for something as creative and adventurous as him to be what he was. He was a dragon, a mythical reptile from fantasy who could fly above clouds. A creature who spoke in booming volumes, who people often feared, who hoarded great treasures in selfish lairs. The thing was that Red didn’t fly. He was told by Cyan to stay on the ground with him to play, and so he did. Indigo told him his being was strange and odd and mildly concerning because dragons weren’t real. So, he hid away when the other creatures were busy, not wanting to be something unreal but being unable to change himself to the Others' liking. This form was much more restricting for Red. He was used to shifting like fluid rivers down a mountainside; however, being a dragon wasn’t very fluid, nor was it good for shifting. When he played with Cyan, there were rules. Though he was bouncy like Red, he liked a little structure to things. Structure wasn’t bad, but... well, Red just didn’t understand Cyan’s way of structure. He didn’t understand, but Cyan was the only creature who could and would play with him. 

The Others’ animalistic forms were more well-known to future eyes. The darker forms of Rainbow’s Mind stuck close by, except for an odd observer. Purple had shifted deeper into the dark bits, his original home now Faded into a boundary line. He became a tiny thing, an arachnid of sorts. Scittering over to the dimmest corners to hide in webs of his own creation, small and afraid of the bigger creatures who roamed about. He was closer to a tarantula than a spider, per se. Not as tiny, but his hairy thorax and fuzzy legs didn’t make him as big as he’d Hoped to be. 

Funny thing to Hope, isn’t it? It doesn’t always work in your favour, but not Hoping never works in your favour. 

To Hope or not to Hope, that is the question. 

As Purple tip-tapped in his new shape of an assumed pest, Yellow’s new form was quite fitting. See, he was already a long tube-ish shape. As he became a serpent, odd as he was, it wasn’t as different from his original ‘body’ as he thought it’d be. A snake, a venom-fanged serpentine, with a deformity of sorts. A dual-headed cobra. Awfully yellow and pale scales with darker accents, new to the dreadful cold-blooded traits of never being warm on his own. A part of him split into two different heads, two different ‘brains’, two different tongues who hissed out his words. The left spoke only in honesty; the right spoke only in lies. Together, the pair of strange snake heads were something close to Deception. Or, at least, what Rainbow would later name Deception. Deceit. 

But alas, it’s Rainbow’s Mind, after all. He’s the one who gives name and concrete form to every part of him. If it’s important enough to him, then it becomes metaphysically real. To Rainbow, at least.

Green became a mythical creature, just like his brother dragon. Although different from his twin form, he shared a new limitation as he became a cephalopod. He was a radioactive and eerily green kraken, mighty and big and favouring icy temperatures. He’d slink around, swing from high heights, and had a knack for scaring the anxious spiderling; whether it was by accident or not. The serpent took quickly to both consoling Purple and calming Green as they all adjusted to their new bodies. 

And Orange? Well... 

None knows his truth except him, and no one ever bothers to ask. 

=====

Rainbow and his Imagination only grew. Everyone took more human forms as the Mind became a bit more insistent on human perspectives. Parts of him began taking more humanistic appearances, while some others kept a few of their nonhuman traits. Eyes became symmetrical on identical faces, looking down at newly formed hands and arms and legs. It was...odd, to say the least, shaping and shifting into an entirely new body and form of metaphysical being. 

Yellow kept scales on half of his body, the same half that once belonged to the lying cobra head of his odd reptilian form. Purple kept his arachnid legs, three pairs instead of four because the human pair of arms were seemingly a substitute. Retractable, interestingly enough, to still keep a trace of shifting forms. Green kept his tentacles—his arms, Green says they’re arms—similar to Purple in the sense that there were now three pairs instead of four. He still swung from place to place, retracting his arms to test and see if he could catch himself before he fell. He still had a mostly unintentional knack for frightening Purple. Yellow still took care of his fellow ‘darker’ traits as they stuck close by. After all, he is and has always been a Self-Preserving being. 

Cyan no longer bore slime and frog eyes, not unless he was distressed enough to ‘break out’. Indigo no longer bore wings and could no longer fly. Though he’d Deny Deny Deny, it seemed clear he missed the ability of flight far more than he told. Red shared the new lack of flight with Indigo, but he never flew much to begin with. He bore no scales, no sharp teeth, no fire to breathe when threatened. The bits of dragon traits he did keep were hidden away and kept quiet about. Hoarding special trinkets and tokens of affection was something he couldn’t bear to reveal, especially when certain Traits would definitely critique and lecture him about it. What kind of selfish, Egoistical being would be viewed as then? Though most did not know it yet, the Ego has always been the Ego and Egos are desperately fragile to how they’re perceived. 

Orange kept a trait or two of Before, of course. He was a part of Rainbow. He’s always been a part of Rainbow. And like the Others, some bits of how they’d been formed stuck with him. Oh, but who’s to say what was kept? No one knows Orange, after all, not that well. Not even Yellow! 

A discussion for another time... 

And so, the debates and arguments and compromises began. All the forms became creatures that became Traits and Sides. They all started to talk to one another, and do what they viewed best in order to take care of Rainbow. And, ideally, each other. 

Unfortunately, no good thing lasts forever. 

As Rainbow grew and learnt and did things, so did his Sides. It all devolved into bickering and hiding and dear god, why can’t people listen to me? A Flower Garden, hidden deep in the darker areas of Rainbow’s Mind and kept by an elusive arsonist, grew dimmer and its flora wilted. 

When Rainbow was but an awkward teenager, he saw a beautiful sprout of an orange weed-like flower. It’d been an awful day at school. More and more distasteful remarks were unreasonably thrown at people about things that they couldn’t change, and Rainbow could only watch as a bystander. All these people getting hurt angered him. He saw Orange and Red swirl around his vision, but he pushed it away. He was angry for those who hurt and got hurt. He was angry because it wasn’t fair. He was angry because they didn’t deserve that, no one did. The orange flower burned in his Mind as he thought about all his hurt and mistreated peers. The flower was vibrant and wonderful, and its memory attached itself to Hope. 

In the wilting Flower Garden, an orange flower grew tall and grand...and it birthed a new kind of fire in Rainbow. 

And Hope became the same as Righteous Anger and Wrath. 

[edupunkn00b]

Roomies, Ch. 3: My Brother's Best Friend

Prev - My Brother's Best Friend - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3028 - Rated: This chapter, G-ish - CW: vaguely suggestive

Patton, Remus, Roman, and Logan at breakfast the next morning

By the time Remus cracked open his eyes the next morning, Patton was already up, hair damp and bouncy from a shower, fully dressed with his bed made. “Damn, Patton,” he groaned, pushing back his weighted blanket and stretching. “It’s college, not boot camp.”

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed, high pitched and brittle, and looked down at his feet with a little shrug. 

Fuck. Remus dragged a hand through his hair. You’re trying to not freak him out, remember?

“Guess I just got in the habit, y’know?” Patton continued, filling the silence. “Be a good role model for my campers. Oh!” He looked up, eyes wide, feet shuffling back. “I—I didn’t wake you, did I? I can—”

“Nah, man,” Remus yawned and swung his legs over to one side of the bed. “You’re good, really. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

Patton eyed him like he was waiting for a punchline so Remus just smiled and draped the blanket over his own bed, ‘making’ it. More than he would usually bother, at least. “Hey, you hungry? Dining hall’s probably open.” He looked down at his own bare chest and laughed. “I should probably throw something on first but, then we can go together?”

He scratched his shoulder, waiting for the surprise splashed over Patton’s face to morph into some kind of answer. He’d meant for the invitation to sound confident and casual but it came out… not.

“You really want—” His jaw snapped shut and he stood as tall as his cute little 5’7” frame would let him. “Sure.” He smiled after a moment, nodding. “Yeah, um, take your time and we’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

Remus was already headed to the closet and grabbing the first tank top his hand closed on. He tugged it down over his head, pulled on his jeans from yesterday then swung around, buckling the belt. “Tada!”

It earned him an almost-laugh. Patton’s eyes sparkled, and his lips twitched into a bright pink smile. “You really meant ‘throw something on.’” 

“Yep.” He let his ‘p’ pop as he stuffed his morning meds and his ID in his jeans pocket, then shoved his feet into his boots. “After you?” he asked and opened the door.

~

The dining hall was quiet and nearly empty when they arrived, the silence marred only by a faint murmured conversation in the far corner and the clangs and beeping timers coming from the kitchen. He shuddered, the racket reminding him of his old job at McDonald’s.

Including the two of them, there were only five students in the entire dining hall. Apparently most of the campus had not arrived fresh from summer camp with an ingrained habit of early rising. Go figure.

“I’m gonna hit the—” The word ‘lavatory’ came to mind and he shook his head. He’d definitely spent way too much time around Logan. “The can,” he finally said, jerking his thumb toward the restroom doors. “Wanna grab us a table before they’re all gone?”

“Um…” Patton scanned the mostly empty room before nodding. “Sure.”

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, turning and walking backwards toward the restrooms. “I’ll bring you a coffee!”

Patton’s mouth opened but then snapped shut again before he nodded again, scanned his ID and picked up a tray.

As soon as he was out of sight, Remus backed open the swinging door and slid into the bathroom. After using the toilet he washed up and ran wet hands through his hair, wrangling his curls into something of a style. Finally, hand cupped with water from the tap, he took three tiny yellow pills, then splashed cold water over his face. Stubble pricked his palms and he frowned. He needed a shave. Patton’s face already looked baby smooth again. 

Remus chuckled. Patton really did have his whole morning thing down to a science. His stomach clenched, hunger or his meds. Or maybe just remembering Patton’s face last night. Fuck, Ro could be so blind. Had been since before high school. How he couldn’t see what was right in front of him all those years. Fucking dumba—

The restroom door swung open and a guy Remus vaguely recognized from move-in day sauntered in and gave him that weird head nod greeting. Apparently forgetting Remus could see him in the mirror, the guy’s gaze lingered on his ass as he passed. Remus grinned. That’s okay, Ro. Patton’ll find somebody who’ll appreciate him here. Plenty of pickings.

After smoothing down his mustache one more time and shoving two pieces of cinnamon gum in his mouth, Remus nodded at his own reflection. Plenty of pickings. He maybe even had some closer than he knew.

~

Once Remus had left, Patton collected his food quickly and sat at a large table far from the noise of the kitchen and alongside the windows facing the path from Ro—and Logan’s— dorm. He told himself he hoped to catch them before they sat somewhere else, or to save them from having to take one of the tables closer to the hisses and alarms in the kitchen as the dining hall slowly filled.

In a moment of honesty, though, Patton admitted to himself he was a little afraid Ro and Logan might accidentally-on-purpose not notice him when they did finally arrive. Ro was a devoted friend and he would likely be an even more devoted boyfriend. The Logan Patton remembered from school had been confident, even a little arrogant. This Logan was crushed and Ro’s tender heart felt responsible. Patton couldn't blame him if Logan pulled his attention away from anything—anyone—else.

Patton’s phone was heavy in his pocket. The only thing stopping him from double—okay, triple-texting Ro—and telling him he’d saved a seat for them at his table was last night’s Really Obviously Muscular And Nice 👑 has turned off notifications message and Patton's unread good morning text.

He took his time sprinkling pepper and salt on his eggs before taking tiny, slow bites. After a few long minutes, he spotted them in the distance, hands locked together and walking close. Patton couldn’t help but smile at Ro’s familiar stride, his excited movements, waving his arm about as he talked. Patton watched as Ro curled his other arm around Logan’s waist and pointed out the late summer blooms still clinging to the pine trees, then the bulletin board outside the dining hall, already plastered with student club announcements.

He waited for them to get closer, then rose from his chair, waving both arms when Logan seemed to notice him through the glass. Warmth filled his chest when Ro followed Logan’s gaze and waved back.

This was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay.

~

”Good morning, you two!” Patton grinned when Ro set down his tray and gave him a little half hug before taking the empty seat next to Logan.

“Have you been here long?” Ro asked, frowning as he looked around the still mostly-empty dining hall. “Alone?” he added before pursing his lips like he had more to say.

Patton shrugged. “Not alone, Remus is here, just…” 

“Couldn’t get away?” Roman frowned again and cut into his omelet. “You know, if you need me to have another talk with him about boundaries, I will.” 

Logan was quiet, watching them talk.

“I—I don’t…” Patton shook his head and smiled. “Thank you, Ro, but I don’t think it will be necessary.” 

“Pat, you don’t have to try to protect him.” Ro leaned closer, searching his eyes. “He’s my brother. Trust me, I know what he can be like.” 

Patton poked at his breakfast. Remus hadn’t been that bad. He’d even… Patton bit back a smile, remembering when Remus had tried to help Patton with his personal items, eyes closed and fumbling with the dresser and a stack of boxer shorts. Was he wrong to think it’d been kinda funny? “He’s been okay,” he said at last, nodding. “Really.” 

Ro opened his mouth but before he could continue his argument, Logan nudged his plate closer to him. “What do you think of your omelet?” he said pointedly, holding his gaze. “You should try it while it’s still warm.”

”Okay, okay,” Ro said, laughing. “I can take a hint.”

“Purportedly,” Logan said not-quite under his breath and Patton tried to hide his laugh behind a napkin.

Logan met Roman's pretend glare with his own before sipping his coffee. ”I must admit I was wrong to believe the stories of college dorm food. The offerings here appear fresh and reasonably healthy-” He cringed at the loud and protracted swooshing sound of canned whipped cream. “With some exceptions, of course.”

Roman laughed, “You should see what ten year olds do when get to put whatever they want on their pancakes. Remember my tenth birthday party?” he grinned at Patton across the table.

”That was one time!” Patton laughed. “And, for the record, ice cream on pancakes isn’t bad until it starts to melt.”

“That’s when it looks like a horror show,” Roman said, mostly to Logan.

Contemplating his own eggs, Logan hummed and took a bite. “There is an element of body horror in many of the foods we consume each morning.”

“Now you’re sounding like my brother,” Ro laughed.

Eyebrow raised, Logan turned to Ro. He nearly smiled. “Indeed.”

Ro laughed again and kissed his cheek before he looked at Patton. “Okay, since Lo brought up the body horror," he flashed Logan a smile when he sighed and made a 'go ahead' motion with his other hand. "I still don't understand how you ended up rooming with Remus.” He reached across the table and gave his hand a little squeeze. “Pat, you can tell us for real… how is it going? It’s not too late to get another room change, you know. Your parents could call the Housing Office if the RAs won’t listen to you.”

Ro's hand was warm but he let go entirely too quickly. “I…" Patton shook his head. "I… I don’t need to… An—and—and besides, Remus is fine. He’s been…” Aside from increasingly inappropriate—and ridiculous—guesses about what he’d brought in his little blue bag, Remus didn’t once try to find out what was actually inside while he’d helped him unpack. He hadn’t even touched it.

“He’s been great, actually.” Patton tried not to sound so surprised. “You know, he’s really—”

“Hey, these guys bothering you?” Remus suddenly said from behind him, setting down a tray heavy with two mugs, a pile of fruit, oatmeal and yogurt. A plate of toasted bagels and jellies teetered on top and Remus set that in the middle of their table before sitting next to him. “Don’t want Ro getting hangry on us, do we?” he winked at his brother who scowled back.

“Your company is a pleasure, as always, Re,” Ro murmured, his raised eyebrow and pursed lips saying just how much he meant it. “When we found dear Patton here dining alone we assumed you’d abandoned him for some tryst in the hallway.”

Remus threw his head back, laughing. “Nah, you woulda heard me. ‘I’m quite the screamer.’”

Logan looked up from his coffee, eyes narrowed. “Doctor Who reference?“ Remus nodded at him, his smile two shades brighter. “Fantastic,” he murmured and took another sip.

“Don’t encourage him,” Ro whispered.

“I told you he said he’d come back,” Patton said but Ro just rolled his eyes and shifted his chair a little closer to Logan.

“I sure did.” Remus took one of the steaming mugs and set it next to Patton's plate along with a little handful of creamers and sugar packets. “You like it light and sweet, right?”

“I do, but when did…” He wracked his brain, trying to remember when he might’ve told Remus how he took his coffee. He’d only started drinking it senior year and only at— “Oh, the sleepover!” he grinned up at Ro. “We stayed up all night after Homecoming.”

“That is most unhealthy,” Logan said, frowning lightly at Ro.

“Do not worry, mi amor,” Ro soothed, wrapping an arm around Logan’s shoulders before jerking his chin up at Patton. “I didn’t stay up all night, he did.”

Patton shrugged and he hoped no-one else noticed the heat crawling up his face. “I’d never had coffee before. That first cup was…” The memory of the bitter coat on his tongue made his nose scrunch and he shook his head. “It was not good.”

“It’s better with a little something in it,” Remus laughed, plunking two creamers into his own cup.

“It was,” Patton said, nodding with a little laugh. “So much better I had three cups. Don’t worry—” he said when Logan’s eyes widened. “I drink a lot less now.”

“Hm.” Logan’s grunt seemed to end the subject but he eyed the three of them like he half-expected one of them to guzzle an entire pot. Roman leaned close and whispered something in his ear. Whatever he said seemed to mollify him and when a flush grew over Ro's face at Logan's too-quiet-to-hear response, Patton returned his attention to his own coffee.

Remus coughed, loudly, and the couple stopped whispering. Logan cleared his throat and took another bite of his breakfast while Ro snagged one of the bagels Remus had brought. “Your tattoo appears to be healing adequately,” Logan remarked, eyebrows raised over the top of his glasses. “Perhaps your experience with your first tattoo impressed upon you the importance of proper aftercare?”

“Oh, you know I never skimp on aftercare.” Remus chuckled, some inside joke pulling a half-laugh from Logan. Ro got the joke but didn’t like it, glaring at his brother for a long moment before spearing a bit of omelet. Still grinning, Remus turned to Patton. “Yeah, it hurt like a bitch. I didn’t use the lotion they gave me and… whew,” he whistled. “That was too much even for me.” He craned his neck to and looked at the edge of his shoulder. The rainbow-hued jellyfish peeking out from around his tank top already a lot less red than it had been yesterday afternoon. “It's looking better already and hurts a fuckton less.”

“Remus…" Guilt fluttered in Patton’s belly and he looked more closely at the sore skin around Remus' new tattoo. He hadn’t thought the redness meant it hurt, just— "Is that why you slept with your shirt off?”

“Re!” Leaning across the table and glaring at his brother, Ro sounded outraged. “You paraded around in the nude in front of my friend? You promised me you’d—” 

“Excuse you, I paraded around my roommate!” Remus shot Patton a quizzical look before his glare returned and he stared down his brother. “And no, I wasn’t nude.”

The image of Remus hurrying to get dressed that morning, squid-decorated boxers dancing with his movement, came unbidden to Patton’s mind and he dumped another sugar into his coffee and stirred.

“Fine,” Ro snapped, pointing to his own eyes and then at Remus before sitting back, arms crossed over his chest. Logan stroked his arm until he relaxed, smiling back at him with a soft blush. 

“Anywhoo…” Remus bumped Patton’s shoulder and grinned when he looked up. His smile was wild as usual, practically vibrating with energy. Remus’ eyes, though, were serious and met his for a long moment, searching for something. He seemed to find whatever he was looking for because his smile softened and he nodded before giving him a little wink and addressing the table. “I’ve been thinking about the design for my next tattoo. Maybe a little something in a more… personal place?” He waggled his eyebrows, watching Ro and Logan’s expressions, clearly waiting for one of them to take the bait.

Patton bit back an inappropriate laugh and tried to hide his smile behind his coffee. Remus wasn’t suggesting what it sounded like, was he?

“You know…” He shimmied his shoulders. “Something a little glans-dular?”

Logan’s fork dropped to his plate and he sighed. “Roman, please share with your brother the inadvisability of tattooing one’s genitals.”

“Aw, come on…” Remus whined like he was pleading for a puppy from strict parents. “You don’t think I should get a little happy face tattooed on my happy place?”  

“No!” Ro and Logan said in unison. Turning to look at him, Remus waggled his eyebrows and winked.

Patton lowered his eyes, face hot. He caught sight of the sausage links on his plate and the charred bit at one end suddenly made his stomach turn. “Um, Remus, you can have these if you want.”

“Mmm, while I’d never say no to a bite of your—” he started to laugh then stopped when the table shuddered. Patton caught movement underneath and spied Ro’s heel pressed into his brother’s boot.

He flashed Ro a grateful smile.

“Remus does not consume meat,” Logan said. He ignored the brothers’ partially hidden wrestling and instead spread raspberry jam on one of the bagels Remus had brought.

“You’re a vegetarian?” Patton blurted out before he could stop himself, mouth agape as he stared at Remus.

“Well, yeah,” Remus said, shrugging. Was he… blushing? 

He took a closer look at the food Remus had brought to the table. The bagels… An apple and an orange, a big bowl of yogurt sprinkled with nuts and little black chia seeds, coffee—well, coffees , he’d made good on his promise to bring him a coffee, too.

Patton frowned. How had he never noticed before? Remus had come along a few times when he and Ro had gone for pizza or chinese or whatever but Patton couldn’t remember noticing whether or not he ate what they did. He couldn’t actually remember noticing much of what Remus did, aside from his dirty jokes or his loud music. Or his bullying of the bullies. 

“Guess I read Charlotte’s Web a few too many times as a kid, huh?”

Patton looked up and Remus was watching him with unexpectedly soft expression, an almost shy smile replacing his earlier smirk. He’d twisted a napkin around his finger, wrapping and unwrapping it as he waited for Patton to say something.

“I dunno…” Patton’s frown shifted into a matching smile and this time he shrugged. “Maybe you read it just the right number of times.”

[glacierruler]

Betula Finsterre

Making the Future masterpost

Consider supporting me on ko-fi

Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @duck-in-a-spaceship

½ wood elf ½ human

Just moved from the city 4 hours away(Alinenbergh) to the outskirts

5’6

Long bouncy hair(look up hairstyles)

Light almond(shell) skin

it/its pronouns

Knows some archery, is better with swords.

Makes its own enchanted weapons

Lesbian

Is in the same divide(resistance) as Jarolend and Callie

Is a Foundational, which is a higher rank than them.

Moved to the outskirts to start a divide faction there on the orders of Shendrex

33 years old

Friendly with the leader of the divide it’s in.

Before it was a Foundational, it was a messenger. Bringing news to the other factions and the divide’s allies.

[starlightserenadez]

ʚ♡ɞ The gang's all here! ʚ♡ɞ

As you enter the lush glade and see the various mushroom-shaped houses around you, you feel at peace....

"Welcome to our pocket of sunshine!" A cheerful voice greets you, and as you look over you spot a bouncy, fluffy kirin. He grins.

ʚ♡ɞ you have entered the Sunshine Glade - a small dimensional pocket where a handful of wonderful beings reside. Choose your path...

The cozy, red-brown mushroom house with an open forge sculpted into it's side - smoke billows heartily from the chimney, and clanging reaches your ears... ʚ♡ɞ

The paint-splattered blue inkcap mushroom house, with uneven step stones decorated with smiley faces and hearts - the door is wide open, and a sweet scent beckons you... ʚ♡ɞ

The battered mushroom house, dark red cap slightly torn and patched - a "KEEP OUT" sign is plastered on it's side, and intense, feels-heavy music is heard when the window slips open... ʚ♡ɞ

The soft lavender mushroom house, surrounded by lilacs and plastic stars - a telescope is stuck out of the top window, and a melodic humming invites you closer... ʚ♡ɞ

♡ Welcome to my oc masterpost! here's where you'll see a tiny tidbit about this blogs main focus! the rest is to be discovered throughout the blog, and through asks! stay a while ♡

♡ about the blogkeeper: Soleil - 22 - She/Sun pronouns - casual artist and longtime mlp fan. i spend my spare time working on oc universes and fun arts - main blog is @solbringer ♡

♡ ask the ocs anything! ooc marked with hearts! ♡

♡ temporary and full refs of some of the main cast, in order of intros♡

[takiisieju]

MONA LISA (GIOCONDA REGIO)

taglist: @roofgeese @onehornedbeast @scentedcandleibex @spacestephh @theelderhazelnut

JoJoNights masterpost

Bio under cut!

GENERAL INFO

Name: Gioconda Regio

Alias: Mona Lisa (nickname, given by her mother)

Age: 19

Nationality: Italian

Languages known: Italian, English

APPEARANCE

Voice claim: Cherry from Studio Killers

Theme name: gaussian blur

PERSONALITY

Mona Lisa is a gloomy, aloof, sarcastic young woman. Feeling the eyes on her since her very childhood because of her heritage and her polydactyly, she wishes only to be left alone and live a peaceful life. She is impatient, aiming to flee or fight but never wait.

Just like her mother, she dislikes her father and doesn't want to even know anything about him. However, she is not particularly close with Irena either. Surprisingly, the person she loves the most is her mother’s Stand, Queen Card, who would protect and comfort her, much unlike her cold mother. Because of that, even though her Stand doesn’t have a conscience, she still finds comfort in it and strongly believes in its power.

She doesn’t like to allow people to help her, believing they aren’t really willing to do anything for her. She especially distrusts idealists.

STAND: GIMME MORE

Type: Close-Range Artificial Humanoid

Gimme More possesses certain physical strength and speed, allowing it to hit opponents with powerful, fast kicks. Upon hitting something with its heels, the object or person becomes blurry and muffled. Blurry objects are soft, bouncy and are unable to move on their own. Blurry people can’t see, hear or feel anything, only their sense of smell being unaffected. Their Stands are unaffected, but they still can't see. The blurred object or person returns to its normal state if Gimme More is more than 30 meters away from them.

Its battle cry is “Moru-Moru” (More-more). Upon summoning, it often says “It’s Gimme More!”

TRIVIA

Favorite color: parakeet green

Favorite food: Hawaiian pizza

Hobby: hiking

RELATED CHARACTERS:

Irena Regio (mother)

Dio Brando (father, deceased)

[equustenebris]

Playlist Masterpost

I realized I needed one of these!

All my public playlists are on my Spotify but I thought I should lay 'em out for people. :>

Five Nights at Freddy's: Security Breach

The Daycare Attendant (Sun & Moon) - Mostly songs that are directly related to canonical Sun and/or Moon (as opposed to AUs), but a little heavy on the Y/N x DCA themes. Kinda equal parts bouncy and angsty.

Elder Scrolls Online

a natural disaster masquerading as a person🔥 - Primarily a playlist for Revus Demnevanni (but there's definitely also some songs about Tiras's mixed feelings about his mentor, as well as some pining Vestige on there as well). Heavy on fire imagery (it's my leitmotif for him, leave me alone). Generally on the easier-listening side along the lines of the Crane Wives.

Duckverse

Newton Gearloose - No fancy title, lol. Primarily songs I associate with my teenage Newton headcanons. (I am so sorry.) Often brash and obnoxious, because. Well. (I love him.)

MD/Gyro - To steal my own Spotify description: My song dumping ground for anything that reminds me of the Mad Ducktor, Gyro, or MD/Gyro. Maybe it's abstract, maybe it's literal, maybe I should have my Spotify privileges taken away. Don't judge me.

(One-sided) PK/Gyro - Self-explanatory, some Gyro pining for an uninterested Duck Avenger. Very under-developed but generally bouncy and pop-y.

Blame Gravity - A generally-in-order playlist that helped inspire my Mad Ducktor/Gyro Gearloose MDGyro fic Blame Gravity on AO3.

Blame Gravity - the extras - Some various songs that were eventually going to be related to other stories I was going to include in my Blame Gravity ficverse.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

And Eat It, Too: Chapter Twelve: Webbed

In which final plans are made for the Unknowing, Jon and Tim begin to heal over a silly meme, and Jon makes the choice to step into the Dark...

>>> NOW ON AO3!

Jon's fear of spiderwebs and control is true and valid and we should say it.

(Masterpost including playlist)

*

CHAPTER TWELVE

Elias must have some ability to tell the future, because he is not there when Jon wakes up and immediately rolls over to hit him.

The sheets are cool. Elias fled early, then.

And Jon feels…

Amazing.

(Sick.)

Energized.

(Nauseated.)

Rested and healed (and ashamed and violated) and so damn good that he has to wonder (victimized) if Elias was right, and he did have to be shown what he wanted.

That thought causes surging panic, and Jon embraces it long enough to snap out of that terrible thought spiral.

He didn’t want this. He certainly had not asked to benefit from it.

Jon clenches his hands into fists. Can’t push the shame aside (felt so good, by the end), but he can redirect all of this to the person at fault.

At least, he can try.

Jon storms down to the kitchen.

The place smells great. Elias is there, fully dressed, an apron protecting his clothes, as he cooks at the stove.

He is humming.

It’s kind of a bouncy tune, if weirdly old; it sounds like something Jon might hear on a historical pub night, all metaphor and bawdy behavior in Merrie Olde England.

The Bird in the Bush, the Eye informs him, and Jon does not care. “How dare you,” he snaps.

“Well. Not even a warm-up, today?” says Elias, quite cheerfully. “I do hope you’re not trying to pretend you didn’t sleep well.” He gives Jon a heated look over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and dark. “I know that you did.”

Guilt wages war with a body at rest, with a mind feeling eerily sated. “That’s what you meant by helping me?”

“Yes.” Elias looks innocent. “Helping you to embrace your gift? To feed your patron? To be fed in turn, and wake refreshed, healed, energized, and ready to face whatever terrors you may encounter today? Oh, goodness, you’re right, Jon, I should have left you to suffer.” He smiles and returns to the stove.

Humming.

Why, it’s a song all about seduction and sex, heavily coded, because of course it is, and now Jon knows and has no appetite whatsoever.

(Michael would not have…) “You should have warned me. You should have asked me.”

“Would you have agreed if I did?” says Elias easily, evidently unflappable on this fine and awful morning.

“Of course not!”

“Well, there you are, then,” says Elias as though Jon has made his point for him, then looks at him again. “You cannot, of course, cast your patron’s gaze upon the Stranger like that in real life. Not yet, anyway. It would be nice, though, wouldn’t it?”

Jon clenches his jaw shut.

Yes, it would.

It’s part of the reason he’s so angry.

He woke knowing he could not do that, simply look them all to death, no matter what happened with Mustermann, and for good or ill, he dearly wants that power.

Wanting power is a new and dangerous need. Jon does not like where it could take him.

“Was it really so bad?” Elias says, sounding serious for the first time. “I have shown you what you need to do, what you must do, to fight these nightmares properly and empower yourself at the same time. You would not have believed me. You would not have listened. Yet here you are—you have color in your cheeks. You actually look like you’ve slept, which is a thing you rarely manage to achieve. You have energy. And, I daresay, absolutely nothing hurts.”

Jon can’t argue with any of that. “That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is, Jon?”

That the monster was the better option, Jon thinks, and doesn’t know how he feels about that revelation, so he jukes left instead. “Why did you kiss me?”

Elias smiles like a pleased panther.  “If you honestly don’t know why, Jonathan, I really don’t know how to clarify further. Though I must add… you hardly seemed to mind.”

Jon’s face is hot.

He hadn’t been fighting at the end, had he? That was true.

But was it right?

His anger is feeding on itself, fizzling, sending up black and dying smoke. Jon storms back upstairs, trying to ignore how easy the movement is right now, how limber he feels.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about this. If there’s even a right way to feel.

Elias continues to hum.

#

Jon refuses to talk to Elias again until they’re at the office and actively planning.

There is still no sign of Basira and Melanie, and it is taking every ounce of control Jon has not to take that information straight from Daisy’s head.

That’s not who he wants to be. He will fight it.

Daisy and Martin have figured out the perfect placement for each plastic explosive.

“It’s going to take at least an hour,” says Daisy, frowning at all the red x’s. “And that’s assuming it’s all… open. We don’t know everything that’s been done. These struts could be walled off. The Stranger could have posted guards. Anything could get in the way.”

“I propose suicide vests for all,” says Tim, and he’s being all gallows humor again, he isn’t serious, but he still gets shouted down in a chorus for a truly bad idea.

Especially because now, Jon is thinking about it.

“No,” Jon is told, and they simply move on.

Daisy takes some time to show them all how to use a knife. She has a gun; there are no more to distribute.

Jon thinks a club might be more effective. “Bashing parts loose. They’re not as well-put together as you think.”

“For you,” Elias says, almost gently. “I am afraid that for everyone else, swinging a stick will not do.”

Jon feels chided. And angry.

And out of his depth.

“We really have to wait until it’s started?” says Tim, who really did not enjoy Jon’s summary of the previous Unknowing attempt. “What’s going to prevent them from making us forget who we are, once it has?”

And Elias gestures to Jon as if revealing him at the dramatic crux of a play.

Tim is… not encouraged.

Daisy studied Jon. “Monsters fighting monsters. All right.”

“Jon is not a monster,” snaps Martin.

No one adds to that. Jon cannot meet his eyes.

“I have people watching the museum day and night,” says Elias, and Jon is still a little gobsmacked at how smoothly he inserted himself into their plans and became the leader. “We will know when it starts. I suggest we remain on high alert.”

It’s frightening, how Elias just… did it. They’d literally been trying to figure out how to kill him (or at least have him arrested) as recently as last month.

But that was easy while Elias sat in his ivory tower, only descending to the mortal plane to dole out punishment and horror.

When Elias is here, he subsumes conversation, somehow establishes himself as knowledgeable and helpful and trustworthy in a few damned sentences, and Jon is weirdly frightened and gratified to watch it happen.

Frightened because Elias knows what to say on a level that implies intimacy down to the soul.

Gratified because maybe Jon isn’t pathetic as he feared for being steamrolled. Even Daisy submits in the face of him.

Everything really had changed when Michael let Jon go. It was more than just the Distortion coming on to him. What it was, he didn’t know. 

He wonders if Annabelle does.

Her stories as a concept suddenly lure him, the idea that he could know so many new things if he could get her to talk.

I have a problem, thinks Jon, only half joking to himself.

And then the plan is done, positions are assigned, and there is nothing left to do.

“Daisy,” starts Jon, soft. “About Basira—”

“Fuck off, Sims,” says Daisy, and stalks away, not even waiting around to enjoy the blasted expression she left on his face.

Martin looks sympathetic, but goes without a word.

Elias gives him a pointed look he’s at a loss to interpret, and leaves.

Tim doesn’t, yet. “Hey, boss,” he says.

Contemplating his fucked up hands, Jon takes a moment to look up, blinking. “Hm? What?”

“I found you in a meme.” Pause. “You know what a meme is, right?” says the man who personally dragged Jon through hundreds of them when they were still friends.

“Yes, I know what a meme is,” says Jon tartly, and Tim offers his phone.

It’s a simple graph—two perpendicular lines, forming four cardinal points. Starting at the top and moving clockwise, it reads, “Covered in Blood (Victim)”; “Pathetic (Wet Cat)”; “Covered in Blood (Murderer)”; and “Pathetic (Kicked Puppy)”.

Jon stares.

“See,” says Tim. “You’re all of them at once.”

And it is so stupid, and so pointless, and utterly insulting and completely absurd and obviously not literal (except it sort of is), and Jon finds himself starting to laugh.

The miracle happens then: Tim laughs with him.

It’s not long; this is no scripted resolution, issues solved and forgotten in 50 minutes, but it is real, and for once, they’re both trying, and that makes the five or six awkwardly shared chuckles into something priceless.

“I think I see your point,” says Jon, his smile feeling completely foreign.

“Right,” says Tim. “When we have our office Christmas party—which we’ll all be alive to attend, and happy, and married to rich, gorgeous, bisexual rock stars—I’m giving out t-shirts with this, but it’s your face in the middle.”

And Jon risks it all, trying to be a little funny: “Meow.”

They stare at each other for a moment.

Then they laugh again. It’s not longer, but it is… better.

“I will pay you actual money never to do that again,” says Tim, wisely standing to leave before things can go downhill, before resentment and old wounds can find their way free.

“No need. Believe me, that was a one-off,” says Jon, and is surprised to find he is crying. He wipes a tear. Stares at it.

Tim balances on a precipice, just for a moment. This was good; but they’re not good yet, so he doesn’t say anything, angry or sad.

Tim leaves Jon to his frailty.

Jon stares at his fingers, his scarred and uneven hands.

He thinks about a company Christmas party when all this is done, with everyone alive, except Sasha, who won’t be, because he wasn’t a good enough Archivist in time.

Wonders if Michael could join him in such an event. Wishes it could. Tries to imagine it in one of Tim’s t-shirts, and nearly loses it - laughing or crying, he doesn’t know.

And then, Jon feels the tug—not an assault on his will, but an invitation—to go to his office alone.

Of course the Mother is acting when he’s been reminded how much he has to lose.

Oddly, Jon thinks as he hunches his way through the archives to his gloomy space—to the room where Elias beat Leitner to death with a pipe, where Prentiss’ worms almost killed them all when Jon broke through the wall, where a hidden compartment gave him Gertrude’s laptop and all the hope in the world—he’s glad.

If he keeps his friends all where they should be—front and center, of most importance—his own life seems less fraught, and he feels less likely to do the stupid thing and screw it all up.

Even thoughts of Elias don’t ruffle his feathers right now.

He waves at Martin, nods at Tim, and closes his office door behind him.

#

There is a new phone sitting on his desk.

Because of course there is.

Is Elias watching? Have they done something so he can’t see in here? No, that would bring him at a run.

Honestly, as possessive as Elias has been all morning—a million little touches, persistent personal space intrusions, even through the silent treatment—Jon is amazed the rest of the place doesn’t know there’s something going on.

But Elias was careful. No one saw.

Jon has to admit he’s grateful for that.

“Suppose I’m lucky he thinks the archive is so secure,” Jon says as he walks around the desk, not yet touching the small black device. “Or he’d be in here now, or making me be up there with him.”

No answer, but he knows they heard.

There are spiders everywhere, visible or not.

Jon takes a breath. This is one of those decision-gate moments. An act that changes it all. A crossroad, faced alone.

There is no foreign urge to pick up the phone.

They’re not going to make him.

This is all his choice.

“I suppose you think I just need to know,” says Jon, staring at the unbranded device. “That I’m doing this because of the Eye, and my own curiosity, but you’d be wrong.” He considers. “No. You know why I’m doing it.” He takes a deep breath. “Thank you for not threatening my friends.”

He picks up the phone. It’s a very thin thing, unnervingly expensive, and a video call starts the second he touches it.

Annabelle appears, taking up the screen. “If we’d done that, you would just dig in, no matter where you found yourself. That isn’t an ideal outcome.”

“Not really, no.” And because he has to know, “How are you keeping Elias busy?”

“He’s got a meeting with some donors to cover the damage to the library until insurance comes through,” Annabelle says, brightly. “Unfortunately for him, they’ve all got some very awkward questions.”

Jon frowns. “About the fire?”

“About you.”

He blinks. “What? Why?”

“It’s not a good time to tell you that,” says Annabelle, “but soon. After you’ve gotten back.”

Cold fills his spine. “From the Dark?”

“Yes, Jonathan Sims,” says Annabelle. “And I do know that unanswered question will eat at you like an itch you can’t scratch, so I give you my word you’ll get the answer. But I also promise that knowing it now would distract you—and you can’t afford distractions.”

“Into the Dark and Back Again, an Archivist’s Story,” blurts Jon without thinking. “No, I mean, ignore that—”

But Annabelle laughs. It sounds genuine.

“I’m not that starved for affection,” Jon mutters. “You don’t have to laugh.”

“Oh, you are that, Jonathan Sims,” says Annabelle with a frightening smile, “but I laughed because that was cute. I like you. I hope you succeed.”

He stares at her.

“In your drawer—the one with the ashes—you’re going to find Salesa’s gift.”

Jon stiffens. “I didn’t pay for it.”

“He knows. It’s all right. Now, that’s the easy part, I’m afraid. The next component is one you’re not going to like,” she says so lightly, so cheerily, that Jon knows it’s going to be very, very bad.

“I’m not becoming a spider person,” he says quickly.

“Nor would we want you to—you really don’t have the temperament,” she says, sort of gently. “Besides—if you did belong to the Mother, you could not retrieve the book.”

His heart is pounding. She’s putting it off. He is definitely going to hate it.

“There’s really only one way to guide you through the Forever Blind,” she says, but before she moves on, before she’s even finished that sentence, he knows and rockets toward a full-blown panic.

“No,” he interrupts her.

She just smiles at him.

And waits.

His heart tastes funny. Is that a thing? “I said no. You can’t put web on me.”

Smiles, silence. Fondness, assuming she could feel it, but her Oh, you are that, Jonathan Sins has rankled him to believing (or suspecting) that she is trying to use the fact that he is, indeed, lonely.

Rankled. It’s a good word. “If you actually think I’d believe for one moment that becoming some kind of marionette—”

Annabelle shakes her head.

“What?” Says Jon. “What does that mean?”

“What would you say if I reminded you that you must be in control of your own mind and body for this?”

“I’d say then what was the point of offering to… string me up like sausage?”

“We didn’t actually offer that,” she says with such good humor that if she weren’t right, Jon might have said something he’d regret.

Instead, he goes still.

He knows. Just like the Spider knew he would.

The guide through the dark has to be her web—one of the few factors utterly unaffected by light or dark or depth or height or any other horror.

“No,” he says again.

“We would not wrap you,” she says. “You wouldn’t be able to move like that.”

She thinks this is funny.

He’s shaking his head.

“The idea would be a few strands, just lightly connected,” says Annabelle. “We both know you wouldn’t handle anything else very well. The downside is that if this goes wrong, those threads will snap, and you’ll be trapped in the Dark forever.”

“It’s a horrible idea,” says Jon, because that much is true, because he can’t think of another way, because the idea of willingly doing this makes his gorge rise and his body feel like it’s trying to disappear into itself like a dwarf star.

“So is the end of the world, wouldn’t you say?” says Annabelle.

He’s trying so hard. “Wh… where would the w… the w…”

“The webs?” she says, gently.

He swallows. She waits until he can finish his question. “Yes, all right, the webs. Where would you put them?”

“Your left hand, since you can feel it there, and your right forearm. They’ll be very lightly connected. Fragile, Jon. It’s a shame you won’t accept anything more secure—but then, it’s not surprising. You’ve never been in the Dark, and you don’t know what it can do.”

“I know very well what the Dark can do,” he says.

“No, you don’t,” says Annabelle. “It’s not just being unable to see. It’s far worse. It’s a blindness that goes all the way through you, cuts everything off. The Beholding cannot see you in that place.”

He wants to make a joke that maybe he could get some damn sleep for once, but it dies on his lips.

Cut off from the Beholding. What would he have given, two months ago, for that?

Now, it… now, he wonders if that will kill him. “Are there actually monsters in there?”

“Oh, yes. The Still and Lightless Beast, Those Who Come From Shadow, the Dread Pools…”

Jon had never heard of those last two. “What are those?”

“Fear of the dark, made manifest.”

She said the webs were fragile. “Can they break the webs?”

“Yes. If you draw attention to yourself.”

So if he completely ignores the things that scare him more than the other things that scare him, the second might not rip out the first and leave him stranded.

This sounded like a plum idea. But he’s doing it. He wants Michael back. “How do I find the book without help from the Eye?”

“You’ll be moving as Jonathan Sims—who you are, with your mind, your will, your memory. That—combined with being the Archivist—will allow you not to lose yourself.”

“That’s why you keep using my name,” he says, triumphant in deduction.

She smiles fondly again. “We’ll help you find the book. We made sure to… keep track of it before your boss threw it in.”

He stares at her. “You were already planning that I’d go get it.”

“Correct, Jonathan Sims.”

“So why can’t I just follow your web to the book? Why do I have to be… entangled?”

“Because the web to the book is… not accessible to you,” says Annabelle in a way that makes Jon’s mind spin with inter-dimensional designs. “You won’t lose yourself in there, Jonathan Sims; but you won’t escape without help. Once you get the book, Mister Pitch will definitely notice and cut that web.”

“And if… all the webs are severed?”

“You could find your way out on your own,” says Annabelle, “but you’d have to gouge out your own eyes. Wouldn’t advise it.”

He shudders.

He’d lose the Beholding, too, if he did that, and he shudders with the realization.

It’s a stunning thing to know. An escape.

He can’t do it. Maybe he could have, a few months ago, but now? Even when this is all over, he knows, he just… can’t. Won’t? (Does it matter?) “Right. That’s not happening..”

“That reminds me,” says Annabelle, as if all of this wasn’t fully scripted. “Look in your drawer again.”

He does. A jar of ashes, some small white elephant gifts he’s never used—

A long, narrow piece of black silk.

Jon turns the phone around, showing her (which is probably unnecessary). “And this?”

“What do you think it is?”

He shakes. Knows. “Silk. Your silk. Your… you… you made that silk.” He gasps. “It’s a blindfold.”

“Extra protection for you. Your eyes, Jonathan Sims, are very important, and I promise you that Mister Pitch will feel them open, even if you can’t see. You’ll draw him right to you—unless we do a little misdirection.”

He nearly throws the phone. Rises instead, paces back and forth, snarling at it. “So let me get this straight.”

“By all means.” She’s smiling.

“You want me to go into the Dark—where I will be utterly vulnerable, helpless. To do it connected by choice to your webs, which you promise with sugar on top will not control me. And to do it wrapped in a blindfold made from silk from your own body, which could do any damn thing to me, infect me, put webs in my brain, I have no idea—and what? Am I supposed to thank you for this?”

“I’d prefer if you’d finish it, then go on to save the world,” says Annabelle.

“I need a minute.” He sits back down, elbows on desk, head in hands.

She’s silent.

He’s silent.

Is Michael worth all this?

His heart answers before his brain can: yes.

It’s more than that, though. Without Michael’s doors, everyone but him will die.

He has no reason to doubt Annabelle’s word on that. She wouldn’t lie about something like this, because he’d never trust her again. He knows.

He also knows he’s going to do it, and that nearly sends him into a panic attack.

A knock at the door.

“Come in, Martin,” Jon says to the desk, and Martin peeks around the door.

“How’d you know it was me? You know what—never mind. I brought you some tea.”

It’s an apology for Daisy, who won’t give her own. Jon sighs. “Thank you, Martin. Just put it here.”

The phone screen, he notices, has gone completely black—but the little green light says it’s still  broadcasting.

Of course.

Martin puts the cup down, then shifts from foot to foot, wrings his hand, and swells a little as if preparing himself to do something completely unpleasant, but he has to, and it’s for the good of all, and—

Jon realizes it’s fake.

He blinks up at him, frozen in the act of reaching for his tea.

Not all of it is fake. Martin is a kind, good person, by choice; but this act, these smiles and shrugs and awkward stammerings… were a device.

A tool.

A very effective tool, making you forget how large he was, or that you were doing a thing you didn’t really want to do but he somehow nudged you into it, or that you liked Martin after all, even if you started out not liking him.

Jon finds he isn’t upset at it. He sort of admires it; he can’t get anyone to do anything. “You, uh,” he says, peering. “You’re not some sort of spider-person, are you?”

Martin has the exact expression he would if Jon had whipped out a milkshake and dumped it on his head. “What?”

Why the hell did I say that out loud? “Sorry, no, I, that isn’t…”

“Because I brought you tea?” says Martin, who (thankfully) seems to be finding this funny instead of offensive.

Jon has no way out. “I… look, I’ve just been thinking about Annabelle Cane lately, and there were webs in Elias’s house, and—”

“You were in Elias’ house?” Martin blurts.

Jon can’t hear Annabelle laughing, but he is completely sure that she is. “I think I need to start this conversation over.”

“I’m not a ghost either, in case you forgot,” Martin ribs, then goes right for the jugular. “What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing in Elias’ house?”

“Trying not to die,” snaps Jon.

“With… the guy who’s killed two people.”

Jon groans into his hands. “Do-over. Please.”

“Jon, are…” And here is the real Martin. Jon feels it, like a shade lifting to reveal the sun. “Are you all right? Are you safe? Because I have room. I told you before, but I mean it. Elias isn’t safe to be around.”

No stammering. Neither hemming, nor hawing. Just Martin—gentle, thoughtful.

Good.

Jon peeks over his fingertips.

Martin is serious; he’s not shifting his weight, and there is a hardness just there, beneath his soft features.

As if he’s ready to do something on Jon’s behalf.

“I don’t deserve you,” says Jon.

Martin blinks at him. Reddens. And stammers, but this feels a little less planned. “You… what?”

“Sorry,” says Jon. “I mean… as a friend. I think you’re the only one who hasn’t… just abandoned me, or… cursed me out, or… wished me ‘best of luck,’ and then run off into the sunset.”

It comes out more bitter than he planned, and far more sad.

Saying it made it real.

Jon sighs, leans, covers his face.

“Can I say something?”

He didn’t know if he wanted Martin to stay or go. “Of course, Martin. Say whatever you need,” Jon says to his desk, which hears all his confessions these days.

“I’m worried about the whole… monster-thing.”

Becoming monstrous, Jon thinks. “You think I’m not worried?”

“Not enough. You’re acting like it’s a person. You have for a while, now. And it eats people, Jon. It fools them, and tricks them, and they… they die alone, and scared, and you’re not… remembering that, somehow.”

Oh. “I, uh,” Jon says.

“You call it a name and everything—and I listened to that tape, the one where it stabbed you—and you told me it was a bread knife accident? We’re coming back to that someday. But that monster didn’t care that you used its name. It just said, ‘That is a real name,” as if that means… anything!”

Hearing Martin try to mimic Michael’s weird voice is too much, and Jon bursts into laughter.

Martin looks offended. “Jon, I’m serious!”

“No, no, so am I, I just… I thought you were talking about me. Being a monster.”

Martin’s mouth works. “Well, hanging out with that thing can’t be doing you any good! I mean, now you’re staying with Elias!”

“I haven’t been ’hanging out with it.’ After it rescued me, Elias trapped it and threw it away.”

Martin stares. “He… he what?”

“Trapped it. In the Dark. Alone. That’s where it is now. I don’t even know if it can be saved.”

“Well… good, then. That’s good, Jon. No, no, look at me: that’s a good thing.”

Jon goes very still. “Should I be trapped, too, then? Locked up and thrown away, somewhere guaranteed to hurt me forever, if I can’t just die?”

Martin stares at him as though Jon has asked him to murder someone’s grandmother. “Jon, it’s not the same.”

“I’m beginning to wonder. About a lot. About choices, and… how few we really have. And…” He swallows. “Balance.”

“Jon—”

“Gazelles aren’t too happy about the situation, either, but at least they don’t create the damned lions.”

Martin stares at him.

“We made them, Martin. The Fears. We make them, every day. Do you understand? It makes no difference how many we lock up and throw into the dark places! Our fears create them. Did you think that was the only Distortion? Did you think the Fears just happen to have a huge concentration in England, and the rest of the world is left alone?”

“I… I don’t…”

“We made them. Maybe it’s only fair that we feed them, too,” mutters Jon. “And we’ll re-make them every time we destroy any part of them, because we can’t stop being afraid.”

Jon didn’t know he was thinking all of this until it came out of his mouth.

He… hates it.

That must show on his face, because what he sees on Martin’s face is a terrible combination of things. Shock, anger, more shock—and then pity.

“This is really getting to you, isn’t it?” Martin says, softly. “I’ll bet staying with Elias isn’t making it any better.”

“No. It definitely is not. He’s sold out to these things. To his thing. I’m… I’m at least… trying to… stay who I am.”

And now, because everything is terrible, Jon is crying again. Silent about it, at least, but the tears won’t stop. He hides his face.

After a moment, Martin speaks again. “Oi, Jon.”

Jon swallows a couple of times. “What?”

“Tell me a weird fact that you like.”

“There’s a cloud named Hector,” Jon says without hesitation, because this is a thing he’s always liked, because this is a thing he’s always felt was incredibly human. “It’s a recurring thunderstorm, basically, that forms every afternoon in the Tiwi Islands, northern Australia. From September all the way through March. It’s so reliable that World War Two pilots were able to use it to navigate by.” He wipes his face.

He finally looks up.

Martin is wearing an expression that pierces Jon to the heart.

It’s deeply affectionate; it’s also deeply sad.

It is a goodbye.

He knows it’s the end of… something. Some book, just closed.

“See?” says Martin. “I knew you were still you. You’re not a monster, Jon. No matter what… powers, or whatever, are happening to you. You’re still you. And I trust you, Jonathan Sims.”

Jon inhales. Stares at him.

Martin taps the mug. “It’s getting cold.”

“I…” Jon is undone. “I… right. Thank you.”

“Tim asked me out,” Martin suddenly says out of nowhere.

“Good… for him?” says Jon on pure reflex.

His response apparently confirms whatever Martin was thinking. Martin nods. “I’m always going to be your friend, Jon. You can’t get rid of me. Even if you go paranoid again and start stalking me to the grocery store.”

“That was one time,” Jon says.

Martin laughs again; it’s soft. It’s sad. But it’s oddly… lighter. “See you soon, Jonathan Sims. We’re going to go blow up some actual monsters.”

And he’s gone.

What just happened? Jon thinks.

“That was very well timed, I think,” says Annabelle, whom Jon had forgotten completely.

“Oh, damn,” he mutters.

“Relax. And no, lest you ask—Martin isn’t one of ours. Though you’re correct —he could’ve been. Right temperament.”

Well, that was unnerving. “Anything else?”

“Before you leave? Not really. I think you understand what comes next as much as you can without experiencing it.”

“You think I’ve made up my mind?” Jon bluffs, because he has.

“Have you?” she says, because she already knows.

“I hate everyone,” says Jon.

“No, you don’t,” says Annabelle. “If you did, we wouldn’t be talking, and everyone around you would be in very, very bad places.”

That… was ominous. “O…oh?” says Jon. “H… how would… what do you…”

“When you’re ready,” says Annabelle, “Stand and hold out your arms. We’ll connect webbing; you get a final say about all of it. When that’s done, pick up the sphere. Put on the blindfold—no cheating; this will hide you from Mister Pitch. Throw the sphere down. Then just… walk forward.”

“Walking blind unto destruction,” Jon mutters.

“Isn’t that just all of life, though?” says Annabelle.

She wasn’t wrong.

“Elias is busy?”

“Will be for another few hours. There were some… unscheduled visits,” says Annabelle with such diabolical glee that Jon almost throws the phone.

“Will it take me that much time to do this?”

“The honest answer? Far longer. The domains of the Dread Powers don’t obey the human concept of time—you know that. Keep your eyes hidden. We’ll lead you to the book. Wait for those gentle tugs. Fight, and they’ll snap. Simple, right?”

“Only completely against every instinct I have,” Jon says.

“Naturally,” says Annabelle, and the phone goes dark.

Without being told, Jon stands.

He stiffens.

Spiders have come out of the walls.

Just where the fuck they’d been hiding, he has no idea—it’s like they popped out of the plaster, just boom, there, and they’re all coming toward him.

He’s breathing hard before they even reach his shoes. Arms out. Shaking. Swallowing a lot to keep from shrieking, or stomping, or anything else insane.

Spiders climb his legs, spiders he cannot feel, but oh, he can see them.

He shakes as they crawl soundlessly along his outstretched arms, and there is a tiny, strange, tickling moment as they begin to spin their thread.

He’s not being mummified. These spiders (strange colors, too big, we don’t have these in England) dot the web to his left hands and fingers, his right wrist and forearm, all of it loose and sticky and almost not there at all, and then they simply climb back down him and go away.

He has them in the center of his left palm, on the back of his left hand, all around his right wrist, just inside his shirt sleeve.

It feels awful because he barely feels it at all.

The webs stretch out into… nothing. Jon can’t see where they go.

One final spider comes down from the ceiling, lowering itself.

It is large; it is aware. Intelligence gleams in its horrid black eyes, and Jon hyperventilates as it lands on his left shoulder and crawls to his hand.

There, it sticks a different strand to his left pinky. This one is different, slightly thicker, as if a reminder of what Hopworth has done, or maybe a reminder that the Fears will never let him go, or—

The big spider eyes him as if to say, Don’t panic already, Sims, and climbs back up the ceiling, where it just… disappears.

Knowing they’re all here (have been, for who knows how long) makes him want to torch the place, but he has to focus.

He checks his hands. Flexes, clenches, swings them.

The webs stay attached—but he can feel the little tugs on his skin where the stickiness has been tested.

He’s going to have to be very, very careful.

He picks up the blindfold.

It seems darker than night, darker than pitch, a gateway to a galaxy far beyond where there are no stars.

Stars make him think of Michael.

He’s doing this.

Jon puts on the blindfold, amazed in spite of himself at how soft it is against his face. He tangles his hair a little as he ties it, but it doesn’t matter.

He finds the sphere by touch, takes a deep breath, raises it over his head, and throws it down as hard as he can.

It barely makes a sound.

A tiny tug on his right hand—forward.

Jon takes a deep and final lighted breath, and he obeys.

(part thirteen)

[tntwme]

@imperfectcourt

more on the exy hoe shenanigans actually—give me Kevin and Neil doing the kevinandneil equivalent of 'goofing off' on the court, particularly in night practices after they've finished their actual practice. like Neil showed Kevin this flashy, elaborate, impractical-for-serious-exy trick shot earlier, and now he's trying to pull it off but it's not really working ("it was something like .....*this*" *exy racquet clatters to the ground* "actually Neil I didn't remember that part") and Kevin's just watching with a sort of exasperated you-look-ridiculous expression and lots of complementary commentary on how Neil looks ridiculous. but he's also clearly interested and they had a good practice so he's in a looser mood than usual and they're just fooling around and their conversations aren't deep or hostile or carrying the weight of several worlds. they're just two kids playing ball. give me more of that