#but I would have her in the lineup rather than those three I mentioned

[fancylala4]

People on twitter see an issue with raya being in the lineup because her movie sucks. Yet they see no issue with jasmine, Pocahontas and rapunzel being in the lineup when their movies are offensive? Also could be harmful to a certain group of people🤨?

Like I said before raya’s movie sucked ass but at least raya’s story wasn’t based on a real life child who was abused or had a antisemitic villain mixed in with ageism and sexism…

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[gukyi]

midas | jjk

summary: jeon jungkook was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and the power to turn whatever he wants into pure gold. you were born with healing and invisibility powers but without a cent to your name. so when you’re plucked off of the streets for pickpocketing and assigned to be his minder as punishment, you realize you’re going to have to overcome a lot more than class differences if either of you are going to get what you want.

{enemies to lovers!au, ceo!au, magical realism!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst word count: 32k (my hand slipped) warnings: alcohol consumption (brief), mentions of bruising and injuries, characters being emotionally constipated and afraid of commitment, your usual guyi e2l lineup a/n: finally!! oh god this fic took forever to write and just kept getting longer and longer. remember when i overestimated the wc by saying 25k-30k? yikes. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this monster! nothing says gukyi like a jk e2l fic, am i right?

The best time to be on the streets is just past noon on weekdays and eleven o’clock on Sunday mornings. When every working professional is out on their lunch break or weekend brunch, basking in the nice weather by choosing to fill up every outdoor dining area available to them. When they plop their bags, their purses and totes, on the chairs opposite them or onto the pavement beside them, thinking that the plastic fence that guards them will be enough to deter pickpockets and thieves. 

Unluckily for them, they usually fail to consider the prospect of someone invisible swooping in to steal the bills from their wallets, a nondescript force reaching into their purse as they stare down at their phones while they eat, forkfuls of to-go salads and pasta dishes stuffed into their mouths. 

Pickpocketing is a skill that the most desperate learn and the shameless master. Normally, people work in teams, one person to distract and the other to fish for the wallet, grabbing the cash and credit cards before tossing it onto the sidewalk and disappearing without a trace. If you wanted to be especially good at it, you would have to be able to complete the entire thing in less than thirty seconds, in the time it takes for people to switch trains in the subway stations. 

But when you work alone, you don’t get that luxury.

But you suppose that the higher powers above, whatever they may be, are relatively benevolent, because in exchange for your prickly personality, you were blessed with the gift of being invisible. 

Unfortunately, that’s something that you don’t need magic to feel. 

The truth is that it’s always been easy to ignore a girl who has no family, no friends, and no money. Living isn’t the hard part, living with purpose is. Nobody wants to pay any attention to someone who has nothing, literally nothing, to offer in return. At least, nobody interesting. 

The only times when you ever feel truly at peace are when you’re sleeping, and when you’re walking down the streets of the city, letting the rest of the world pass you by without sparing you a second glance. You’ve never been one desperate to stick out, to make an impression. Never been someone that people stop to do a double take at when they walk past you. Strange as it sounds, you love the feeling of being insignificant. It is, in a way, liberating. 

So far today you’ve hauled eighty dollars and a subway card from the wallet of some poor tourist standing outside of a bakery looking at a map the size of Jupiter. Some people you feel particularly bad about robbing, but a bald man with dad sunglasses and a fanny pack isn’t one of them. Besides, being pickpocketed is a classic tourist experience. You’re actually doing him a favor. Something to check off of his bucket list. 

You stow away the money and the card into your pocket, bills folded neatly into your raggedy jeans, rips and holes lining the fabric not for fashion, but from wear alone. You’ll make a mental note to buy yourself a croissant or something later. A treat to reward yourself for all of the hard work you’re putting in today. You’ll be able to pay off your phone bill for the next month with this money.

When the lunch breaks are over, you’ll probably retire to your bed and wallow in self-pity for a little before returning for the dinner rush. Having no life is a constant job, and you don’t even get any legally-mandated breaks to keep you going. Every moment you aren’t on the streets is another moment you aren’t making any money. It’s sort of like being a salesman, which, if you think about it, is just a legal way to rob people. When have salespeople ever sold something of real value?

With the eighty dollars on your mind, you start to scope out nice bakeries on your route, coffee shop signs and pastries on display in the window, looking for a nice place to settle down and buy yourself something sweet. Seeing as you live off of Campbell’s soups and bread from dollar stores, anything is an upgrade. 

You walk a couple more blocks before stumbling upon one of those picture-perfect bakeries, with pristinely decorated cupcakes and cakes lining the window display. You can tell that this place is good because there’s a line out the door and a little seating area that is packed to the brim. However, you are currently invisible, which doesn’t accommodate purchasing goods particularly well, but you make a mental note to return to the bakery a little later when people can actually see you. As if you’d ever turn right here, in front of all of these people. 

While you’re here, you decide to snoop around the line and the outdoor seating area to see if anybody strikes your fancy. Everyone standing either has their bag on their shoulder or their wallets gripped tightly between their fingers, so that’s off the table. But, there is one woman wearing a massive wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses as she chows down on a pink strawberry cupcake, her Louis Vuitton tote bag sitting a good two inches away from her, possibly even out of her periphery. 

Bullseye. 

There’s never a need to be stealthy when you’re already invisible, so you trot over, eyeing the woman to make sure that she can’t see anything in front of her. She doesn’t seem to be paying any attention, so you quickly reach down into her bag, a close watch on her gaze, hand fishing around amongst the receipts and the lipsticks and hand sanitizer until you feel her leather wallet. Nimble fingers fumble with the zipper until the tips come into contact with the crisp dollar bills, which you quickly nick and stuff into your pocket, bounding off without a trace. 

Halfway down the block, you surreptitiously glance at your haul—two hundred dollars!

That’ll be enough to last you and your phone bill for the next three months, at least. 

You’re so busy mentally applauding yourself for your pickpocketing skills that you don’t notice someone standing right in front of you. At least, you don’t notice until you crash into them, the surprise forcing you to turn. 

You sputter out an apology, hoping that whoever it is you’ve nearly run over isn’t observant enough to notice that the currently-visible thing they bumped into was previously invisible, and that’s when you notice exactly who it is that you’ve collided with. 

It’s the woman from the bakery, Louis Vuitton bag and everything. And she’s staring you down like there’s no tomorrow, arms crossed over her middle-aged chest as she sends daggers at you. Oh, you’re so fucked. 

“Sorry?” You say unhelpfully, already knowing the direction of this conversation. This woman wouldn’t be sending you a death glare if she didn’t already know who you are. They definitely did this just to trap you, set you up like a mouse and a cheese trap. 

“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” she orders. “You must already know why I’m here.”

“I was hoping you’d let me off the hook?” You say guiltily, her hand already wrapping tightly around your wrists as she handcuffs you, sharp metal pressing against your wrists. One wriggle and you know that there’s no magicking yourself out of these. They think of everything, they do.

“Tell that to the courts,” she snaps, effectively shutting you up as she drags you away, money digging a hole in your pocket as you begin to envision yourself six feet under. You’re as good as dead, caught red-handed.

Well, life was good while it lasted. At least you might never have to have Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup anymore. 

There’s no such thing as an attorney in the Realm. No such thing as a fair trial (even if they say there is), no such thing as defense and prosecution. No grand juries, no crowds, no sketch artist. Just a judge with a stick up his ass and a punishment to be delivered. You’re either guilty or a liar. 

And you’re rather good at being both. 

“The charge is as follows,” says the burly man at the head of the makeshift courtroom, reading off of a piece of parchment like it’s 1433 and the printing press hasn’t been invented yet. “Burglary, possession of illegally-gained goods, and petty theft.” Because charging you for burglary alone wasn’t enough, apparently. You have a sneaking suspicion that they invented the other two charges just so they could have more to punish you for. “Does the defendant have anything they wish to say?”

“Don’t you guys have anything better to do with your lives?” You ask with a dramatic sigh, having already resigned yourself to your fate. “Like, you could be playing golf round after golf round instead of sitting here, charging an orphan girl with no money.”

“This is my job,” says the burly man. Clearly he has never done anything fun in his entire life. 

“Also, stealing is my only crime, right? So do you really need to punish me like I’ve murdered someone?”

“You burglarized a Realm Leader,” he deadpans. As if Realm Leaders really wear wide-brimmed hats, sunglasses, and carry around a three-thousand dollar Louis Vuitton bag on their days off. 

“You set me up,” you accuse. Might as well go out swinging. “What if I charge you for lying, huh? How will you be punished?”

“Anything else?”

“Fuck you,” you spit. 

The burly man sighs, thinks about the potential verdict for approximately two seconds, and says, “The court finds the defendant guilty of all three charges. Sentencing will now be arranged.”

Big whoop. You could sniff out your ’guilty’ verdict from three miles away, knowing that the Realm takes plenty of pride in charging its constituents for whatever crime that they can invent. You slouch back in your chair as the judge and his heartless buddies discuss your punishment. You suppose that being jailed might not be too bad—you’d always have meals and a place to sleep, even if you would have to give up magic in return. And community service would also be alright. You’d be fine with cleaning up the expressway that runs through the city, though knowing the Realm, they’d probably put you up to some stupidly dangerous magical task. And at this point, death seems rather inviting, and would solve everybody’s problems because they wouldn’t have to deal with you and you wouldn’t have to deal with them anymore. 

The judge coughs, summoning the bare minimum of your attention. “The court has reached a sentencing decision for the convicted. We are offering you two options, of which you may choose one.”

Right, like you’d willingly volunteer for both punishments. 

“You may either be sentenced to serve time in the Realm Penitentiary for six months with the possibility of parole after four, or conduct supervised community service until the task at hand has been completed. Please select which option you would like.”

It’s like asking you to choose between being given one hundred dollars or having to pay one hundred dollars. What does the Realm think people will pick? Do they really think anyone in their right mind would choose to be jailed, forbidden to use their magic, and then let the Realm trick them into thinking parole is really an option, over some measly community service?

“Community service,” you say gruffly. 

“Excellent,” the judge says, writing something with a quill and ink because apparently, ballpoint pens are too complicated. “Your community service will be supervised by a Realm Leader with visionary powers, so you will not need to meet with them in order to discuss your progress, nor will they watch you in person.” And they said that crystal balls aren’t real. 

“What do I have to do?” You ask. Knowing them, it’ll probably be something like scrubbing all of the toilets in the Penitentiary, or going deep into the Amazonian forest to collect some magical sap or fighting off a magical beast. Something that could serve as a death sentence, or at least be extremely unpleasant, in the hopes that it’ll get you off of their backs. 

“The court will be assigning you as a minder to correct the ways of another mage,” the judge states. 

A minder? 

So, your community service is that you have to be a glorified magickal babysitter?

Well. It could be worse. 

“Alright, fine,” you say, though it’s not like you have a choice one way or another. Where was your minder? Why weren’t you assigned one, instead of just being hauled off by an undercover Realm leader to be sentenced for the same crime three times over? “Who will I be assigned to?”

The judge looks down at the parchment in front of him through his tiny old man glasses, and says, “Jeon Jungkook.”

Huh?

Jeon Jungkook lives on the top floor of an apartment complex the size of the Empire State Building and worth more than your entire life. There are ceiling-to-floor windows that span the entire perimeter of the penthouse, a whole security team in the lobby vetting every single person that walks through the automatic glass doors, and an elevator with a touch-screen instead of buttons. It sickens you, the fact that some people can live like this. The fact that some people have known only this world as their entire life, and have not once glanced the other way. 

Getting to Jeon Jungkook’s front door isn’t the hard part. The Realm gave you succinct instructions and permission to use your powers whenever necessary throughout the whole thing, two things more than you thought they would. It’s easy to slide by the big buff security guards when they can’t see you. Easy to turn in the comfort and privacy of the elevator, easy to figure out which door is his when he’s the only person who lives on the top floor. 

The hard part is getting there without feeling like you’re way in over your head. Getting Jeon Jungkook to stop abusing his powers will be no easy feat. He’s rich, powerful, and spits on people like you, people who are not either of those things. Not to mention the fact that if he really wanted to, he could just turn you to gold and set you up in his penthouse like a statue, frozen in time. 

For once, the only thing that makes you feel a little bit better is the Realm. They’ve handed you a strict order that neither you nor he can magic your way out of, lined with stipulations and regulations and requirements that both of you will follow or so help you God. If Jeon Jungkook doesn’t comply, he, his company, and his reputation are done for. 

So at least there’s that. 

Jeon Jungkook’s front door is made of a deep mahogany brown and about thirteen feet tall, towering over you just to serve as a reminder that he can pretty much afford to buy out the entire city if necessary. You feel like an ant in comparison, an insignificant little thing, no money, no power, no nothing. 

A fluorescent doorbell light flashes beside the door frame. 

The sound echoes throughout the hallway you’re standing in, a classic ding-dong noise that reverberates across the walls. 

“Coming!” A voice from inside calls. Is Jungkook expecting someone?

You quickly make any last minute efforts to look as presentable as possible—well, as presentable as someone who lives in a dilapidated, abandoned house at the edge of the city can be—before the door opens. 

For someone who’s got money to burn, Jeon Jungkook sure as hell doesn’t look like it. He’s wearing an oversized button down that hangs loose by his thighs, ripped jeans, and a pair of charcoal grey socks, like he got home from work five hours ago and decided to change into whatever feels most comfortable. 

“Oh, good, I called and they said that you would be another twenty minutes,” Jungkook says, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Let me go grab my wallet, you can just set the pizza down on the counter.”

“Uh, I’m not—”

Jungkook rushes off down one of the fifteen different hallways that branch off of the main living room, leaving you stranded as you wander into his massive abode. Windows line the walls, giving you a perfect view of the city below you, twinkling lights of skyscrapers as people slowly leave their offices and return home. His kitchen alone is double the size of where you live. How can one person possibly take up all of this space? Doesn’t it ever get lonely?

You wait awkwardly besides the counter, which is pizza-less, until Jungkook returns, a shiny black wallet between his fingers as he fumbles for some cash. And normally, you have zero qualms stealing from the rich and giving to the poor (aka, yourself), but seeing as he thinks you’re providing a service, you have the compassion to feel at least a little bit bad. 

Jungkook stops when he notices the bare countertop. “Uh,” he begins with a frown, “where’s the pizza?”

“I’m not the pizza delivery guy,” you explain hesitantly. You don’t suppose Jungkook would have opened the door otherwise. 

“Then where is the pizza delivery guy?” He asks, like you somehow know. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him. Was an interrogation supposed to be a part of this?

“Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N,” you say, hesitant to touch anything except the floor for fear that you will either dirty or break something and then spend the rest of your life trying to pay back the damages. “I’m your minder.”

“What?” Jungkook scrunches up his nose in disgust. “I never asked for a minder.”

“Well, you’ve been assigned one anyway,” you say with a frown. To be fair, it’s not like you expected this to be easy.

“That’s ridiculous,” Jungkook dismisses, already making his way to the door to shoo you off into the night, like he probably does with all of his problems. “I don’t need a minder. I’m fine.”

You look over his shoulder, noticing the flecks of golden accents that line his house, the golden teapots on shelves, picture frames hung up on the wall. Even the rods that hold up the massive satin curtains are gold. There isn’t so much gold to be garish and kitschy, like a teenager who can’t control what he touches, but enough to assert that he’s either wealthy or gifted, or in his case: both. 

“That really sucks, because I’m still your minder,” you tell him, refusing to budge. Jungkook can’t possibly imagine he’ll somehow be able to get out of this. Not when the law is working against him.

“Says who?” Jungkook spits back. 

“The Realm,” you tell him rudely, manifesting the agreement the Realm had given you to force Jungkook into accepting. The parchment is laid out on the countertop, curling up at the edges, black ink written neatly on top of it. He glares at it suspiciously, as if he’s suspected that you forged it. When you make no efforts to explain yourself further, he takes a hesitant step forward, eyes narrowing in on the parchment sitting in front of the both of you. In pitch black ink, loopy calligraphy, it says this:

As recommended and required by the Realm, its leaders, and its government, the recipient, Jeon Jungkook is to be assigned a minder, whose duty is to watch over him, regulate his use of magic, and work towards decreasing his magical activity. 

This minder is being assigned as a result of misuse of magic by the recipient, either by abuse or from the intent to inflict harm upon mages or non-magic users. The Realm decrees that all mages who disobey the laws that govern society either be reformed or punished. 

This minder must ensure that the recipient makes progress towards decreasing his magical activity by indefinitely accompanying and supervising him for every hour of the day. This minder’s term will expire once they have achieved their goal of decreasing the recipient’s use of magic and ensuring that abuse of it does not reoccur. 

Should the recipient disobey this proclamation in any form, including vandalism, ignorance, or rejection, he will be brought to court and sentenced to jail accordingly. 

Jungkook seems to read the parchment for about five seconds before crumpling it up in his hands and tossing it into the trash bin by the edge of the counter. 

“Absolutely not,” he scoffs. “I do not need a minder. I don’t know what The Realm told you but I have no problem with my powers and your services are not required. There was probably some sort of mistake.”

As if. The paper says his name. Jungkook’s almost as bad at violating the rules of the Realm as you are. 

“Uh—” you begin again, but Jungkook is already shooing you out of his penthouse, flicking you away like an animal that’s gotten too close. You find yourself backing up furiously in a desperate attempt to not be trampled by him and his oversized button-down and intimidating death glare, until you’re a foot out of his apartment. 

“Maybe you can go bother someone else instead,” he suggests unhelpfully, before slamming the door in your face. 

You stand there for a few more seconds, face to face with the dark mahogany wood. The bright side is that, even if Jungkook only read the first paragraph of the decree and then tossed it into his recycling bin, there’s no escaping the Realm. You have half a mind to just bugger off and let him face the consequences of his own actions. You can picture it in your head: Realm officers barging into his place of work and arresting him on the spot for consciously disregarding an order of the Realm. That might satiate you for a while. 

Resigning yourself to the fact that if you knock on Jungkook’s door and politely suggest that he pull the parchment out from the trash and read the whole thing will probably not go down particularly well, you turn, letting your body vanish before you, before making your way back to the elevator. The pizza delivery guy arrives just as you reach it, letting you easily slide past him as he goes to make Jungkook’s day a little better by being an expected guest rather than an unwarranted visitor. 

Jungkook may not have agreed to this today (not that he has a choice in the matter), but there’s always tomorrow. 

Passing by the security, who spare no second glance at the fact that the automatic glass doors have just opened seemingly by themselves, you turn left when you reach the sidewalk and head home. 

Home is a janky abandoned house at the very edge of the city, where the buildings meet train tracks and old highways, graffiti decorating every open surface within a five-mile radius. It’s not so much a house as it is a shack, old and rickety and forgotten. You think that the locals and the nons believe the place is haunted, since no one ever comes within one hundred feet of the entrance, the broken glass in the windows and big red spray-painted X on the door deterring most folks. 

People who invite you into their houses and say, “it’s not much, but it’s home,” are such liars. For as long as you have lived here, this place has never felt like home. You never come back from a long day and think, ah, home sweet home. You will never dream of wasting away within these walls. That’s a death sentence. 

You enter through the back door, ducking your head low to avoid hitting it on the lightbulb hanging from the ceiling by a wire or two. You’re not electrically-proficient enough to know how to fix it yourself so it’s less of a fire hazard, and you don’t have nearly enough money to call anyone to come repair it, so there it stays. It still works, though, and you use it in a pinch when you can’t see where you’re stepping. 

There’s a small pile of folded clothing on the floor by the mattress, the remnants of a past life that feels more like an alternate universe than it does part of your history. The fridge doesn’t work, nor do most of the utilities, but the little stack of Campbell’s soup cans on the countertop is reliable and unchanging. As is the fact that you will probably never get out of this dump, so long as you shall live.

When you were little, you used to dream of living in a big castle, and wanting for nothing. You would have people to cook for you, clean for you, dress you, bathe you, entertain you. All of these stories about being a little princess, doted on and loved by all, innocent and pure and beautiful. All of these stories about finding Prince Charming, meeting the love of your life as waltzes into your life on a gorgeous white horse, getting married, having kids, and growing old together. You dreamed of a perfect life, a perfect love, where you never have to worry about anything, where no one is ever mean or rude, no government to dictate what you do. 

It’s no wonder all of those stories were simply fairy tales. 

It makes you even angrier when you think about Jeon Jungkook. He’s lived a life as close to perfection as possible, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a silver platter placed in front of him. He’s grown up with people adoring him, telling him he can do no wrong, rewarding him with a brand new toy when he gets in trouble, teaching him that his powers are for himself first and for other people next to you. Not much is fair in the world, but especially not the fact that he was bestowed with the gift of being able to turn whatever he wishes into gold. 

He is everybody’s Prince Charming: wealthy, handsome, powerful. Too bad you aren’t a princess anymore.

Strangely enough, even after a long day, you aren’t feeling at all hungry. The scent of the pizza Jungkook had ordered to his door was enough to satisfy you, a warm feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Normally, this late at night, you might even be daring (or sleep-deprived) enough to break into one of your precious ramen packs, but instead you collapse onto the mattress, heavy heart willing you fast asleep, the light flickering above your head. 

The next day you are faced with a choice: leave Jungkook alone and let him deal with the repercussions of his actions on his own (much to your delight), or go back and continue pestering him until he agrees to having a minder (much to your chagrin). 

A new parchment has manifested itself on the counter, words copied from the one Jungkook threw out before your eyes. It shimmers, almost as if there’s a golden halo that surrounds it, another trick that the Realm has up its sleeve. You have a feeling that this one won’t be as easily ripped, crumpled up to be tossed into the nearest trash bin. It terrifies you—how closely they watch. You suppose that it was only a matter of time before they caught you. 

Quite frankly, you’re shocked it took them this long to realize you were a serial pickpocketer in the first place. 

As much as you’d love to see Jungkook get arrested and tried for defying the rules of the Realm, see his face plastered all over the newspapers and tabloids with stupid headlines like JEON JUNGKOOK: CRIMINAL? and ARRESTED FOR HAVING TOO MUCH MONEY?, and count it as a personal win, letting that happen would mean that you would have failed to do your court-ordered community service, which is a one-way ticket to prison. 

So even if Jeon Jungkook was the grouchiest, greediest, cockiest person in the entire world (which, judging by what you know about him, he probably is), and even though you would happily let his career and reputation plummet, you don’t have a choice. The two of you will either go down together or not at all. 

Resigning yourself to the fact that you will have to be within close proximity to Jeon Jungkook for the foreseeable future, you rally yourself out of bed, tugging on what you deem to be your nicest clothes and splashing your face clean. The rags you have on are probably worth a cent of what Jungkook wears on a daily basis, crisp suits and silver watches and golden earrings. He could spit on you and that would increase your net worth. But surprisingly enough, there is something empowering about the fact that Jeon Jungkook will no longer be able to ignore the plight of those in a lower class than him. Not when he, a person who has everything, will be forced to reckon with you, someone who has nothing. 

It’s easy to find your way to Jungkook’s place of employment. It’s this enormous skyscraper with his name in a golden serif font above the entryway, marking the entire building as his own. It isn’t garish and ugly, per se, but it definitely makes a statement. This, combined with the cool, chic design of his penthouse apartment, redeems him a little. At least he has taste for someone with money to burn like fireworks. 

There are two massive security guards and a whole squad of receptionists standing guard inside the building’s lobby, dressed pristinely and narrowing their eyes at anybody who dares enter. You wait across the street for a few minutes, loitering outside of a coffee shop and trying to avoid having people bump into you, watching. The only people that seem to be worthy of entering are wearing suits and dresses that cost more than what your abandoned house could sell for on the market after being restored, nodding their hellos to the security guards and receptionists as they press the elevator buttons and disappear into the building. You and your thrifted blouse would be laughed out in an instant. 

Lucky for you, you happen to have a rather foolproof method of getting yourself through those doors, and it mostly involves the fact that nobody can even see you. 

You rush across the road at the next green light and wait until you see someone heading in, the grand glass doors automatically opening when they register someone’s presence. It’s easy to slip in undetected, and you hang around in the lobby, secretly judging every single person that walks in after you. You could, quite honestly, spend all day in here, watching the receptionists tap away at their keyboards with robotic efficiency, answering calls left and right and fielding all sorts of questions from folks entering. It’s a world you have never dared step into, a world filled with wealth and power and class hierarchy, with Jeon Jungkook sitting on a pile of money at the very top of the pyramid. 

Some of the people that work in this building will never in their entire lifetime get the chance to speak with him. They will come in, day after day, working for someone who they have no personal relationship to, someone that they will never be afforded the chance to meet. 

Those people are, in your opinion, dodging a bullet. 

If only your life was as kind to you. 

A nervous young man walks in, clearly more out-of-place than anyone else. He seems to have barely bypassed security, flashing some sort of pass that lets him through the doors, but if a breeze came blowing through the lobby, he’d topple right over. He stumbles towards the receptionist desk, all of whom have phones to their ears as they furiously type on their keyboards. One woman holds up a hand, making him freeze in place. If he grinds his teeth any more they’ll all fall out before he even gets a chance to speak. 

It’s another two minutes before the lady puts the phone down and says, “How can I help you?”

“I’m—I’m, uh—I’m here for a meeting,” the man fumbles out. You’re embarrassed for him. 

“With who?” The woman asks, peering over the glasses resting on her pointy nose. She begins to look over the list of people who have meetings. It must be a rather extensive list. 

“Mr—Mr. Jeon, ma’am,” the man sputters. 

She looks doubtful. “Your name?”

“K-Kim…” he begins, staring down at his feet, “Kim Taehyung.”

“And your business with Mr. Jeon is?”

“I’m—uh, well, I’m a photographer for… for an article being written about him by F-Forbes,” he explains rather helplessly. He must have superb photography skills to make up for his extreme nervousness. You’ll be surprised if he makes it all the way to Jeon Jungkook’s office without wetting his pants out of fear. 

The lady hums to herself, looking suspicious until she finds the man’s name on her list. “Mr. Jeon’s office is on the top floor. Make two lefts and then a right. You will have to wait to be called.”

“Thank you v-very much.” He scurries towards the elevator, and you strike while the iron is hot. 

Rushing over, you manage to squeeze into the elevator right before the doors close, waiting patiently in the corner as the man tries to calm himself down, doing some sort of breathing exercise. Well, he’s got plenty of time to put his nerves aside, seeing as this building has seventy floors and Jeon Jungkook is apparently at the very top of them all. You feel bad for him, in a way. Jeon Jungkook was rude and unapologetically uncouth when you spoke to him, even if an aura of professionalism and extremely good social skills surrounds him at all times, and you don’t cower in fear at the sight of him. 

There’s no telling what he’ll be like when Taehyung walks into his office. 

One tense elevator ride later, the both of you arrive at the seventy-fifth floor, the silver doors opening to reveal a busy office space filled with people near the very top of the building’s pyramid. People like his secretary and accountants and managers, people who come into direct contact with Jeon Jungkook every day from nine to five. In a way, you pity these people for having to deal with him, but it’s not like you’ll be any different. 

Taehyung rushes out and you make sure to follow before the elevator doors crush you, following the receptionist’s instructions. Two lefts and a right. 

Jungkook’s office, much like his apartment, is not hard to miss. His name is written on a plaque on the door, and a guard stands outside with a clipboard, regulating everybody who passes in and out of the room. The walls that surround him are glass but he keeps the blinds drawn permanently, so that no one has the pleasure of seeing his face while they work tirelessly to impress him. Taehyung gives his name to the man, who checks him off on the paper on his clipboard before entering the room. 

“Sir, your 12:30 is here,” the guard says. 

Taehyung looks about ready to pass out. 

“Let them in,” Jungkook’s voice bellows in response. The man nods to Taehyung, who trembles where he stands, twiddling his thumbs like there’s no tomorrow. He shuffles in awkwardly and the door shuts behind him. Luckily, the walls are sound-proof. 

The thirty minutes of waiting is agony. You have nothing to do but rehearse in your head how this next conversation is going to go down, the scroll burning a hole in your back pocket. If Jungkook was displeased at best to see you in his apartment, you can only imagine the horror on his face when he sees you’ve infiltrated his workplace as well. Especially since you don’t have even a fraction of the money and power needed to enter the building on more professional terms. 

The good news is that, no matter what Jungkook says, no matter how many times he kicks you out of his penthouse and his skyscraper, he has no choice but to accept the deal, regardless of how long it will take for him to realize this. You never thought you’d ever be relying on the Realm to carry you through a predicament, and nor did you ever think you’d be doing their bidding, and yet, here you are. 

The door opens at one o’clock on the dot. 

“Th-thank you so much for your time again, Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung says, bowing profusely as he heads out. “I really appreciate it, you—you won’t regret it, I promise, thank you again!” You quickly rush towards the door, even making to hold it slightly open for Taehyung as he heaps his thanks on top of Jungkook. In the split second it takes for Taehyung to let the door go and for it to shut, you slip inside. 

“Finally,” Jungkook huffs out to himself, hand rubbing against his forehead. He’s not wearing a suit like you had expected, rather, a silken button-down shirt and tailored slacks. He doesn’t even have a tie. 

Well, you suppose that being your own boss has its perks. 

Jungkook’s stomach growls. “Fuck, I’m hungry.” He presses a button on the phone in his office. “I’m taking my hour lunch break now,” Jungkook informs the person on the other end. “Put all of my meetings on hold until two o’clock and not a moment earlier.”

He hangs up the phone and runs his hands through his hair, neatly straightened and styled. You hate to admit it, but there’s no wonder the man has captured the hearts of people all over the city. He’s rather good looking, the flecks of gold scattered around his office complementing his swirling brown eyes, making them look like caramel instead of cocoa. You have a hunch that, in the eyes of the general public, unattractive people instantly become good-looking the moment that they acquire wealth, power, fame, or all three, but Jeon Jungkook doesn’t need any of those things for people to think he’s beautiful. To him, they’re just bonuses. 

He turns around for a moment to look for something, probably to fish his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, and you turn. Nothing says hello like magically manifesting yourself in his office. 

“Jesus fu—!” Jungkook practically jumps out of his skin when he sees you. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m your minder,” you explain again. 

“I told you I don’t need a goddamn minder,” Jungkook spits out, turning around again just so he doesn’t have to see your face. “Get out.”

“Sorry, no can do,” you say, rocking back and forth on your feet. “Realm’s orders.”

“Fuck the Realm,” Jungkook says. “I don’t need a minder. Your services are unnecessary. Now get out, before I call security.”

You purse your lips. “You may want to think twice about that.” With a flourish, you whip out the scroll, a golden yellow glow still surrounding the parchment, handing it to Jungkook like a Christmas cracker. He snatches it out of your hand and unfurls it. “You should probably read the whole thing this time. It won’t rip like the last one.”

Jungkook glares at the paper like it’s ruined his life—which, judging by his attitude, it probably has—as he scans over the words, scowl worsening with every second that passes. 

“You shouldn’t frown like that, it’s not a good look on you,” you chide. At least Jungkook knows that there’s no bribing his way out of this one. 

“I told you I don’t need a minder,” he says again like it hasn’t already been made abundantly clear. 

“Well, I didn’t want to be assigned to you, but unfortunately, it looks like neither of us are going to get what we want,” you retort. “It’s this or prison, Jeon. You pick.”

“Why the fuck were you assigned to me, then?” Jungkook asks, rounding on you. “What are your powers?”

“Healing and invisibility,” you spit out. Not nearly as glamorous or lucrative as his own, but they come with their own benefits. For example, the ability to infiltrate high-level, upper class places of employment. “Maybe they thought I’d make a good babysitter since those are two skills often used with children,” you tell him pointedly. 

“I don’t need a minder,” Jungkook repeats for the umpteenth time. “I don’t misuse my magic or abuse my powers.”

“Uh,” you point out, an eyebrow raised skeptically, “I think I’d like to beg to differ.” There’s more gold in this room than miners probably found in San Francisco in the nineteenth century. The fact that nons haven’t noticed the abundance of it in his office is outrageous to you. How else do they think he and his family built up this empire?

“Please,” Jungkook says with a frown. “As if we don’t all use our powers for our own benefit. Huh? What did you do that was so terrible that you had to be assigned as my minder?”

“I pickpocket,” you explain economically. No point in sugar-coating it. Jungkook has probably already figured out you don’t come from nearly as much money as he does. “And I got caught.”

“Sucks,” Jungkook comments callously. 

“Sucks for you, too,” you fire back. “You got caught as well. Agree to the terms or go to jail, Jeon Jungkook. I don’t care. But don’t say I didn’t try to help.”

You stand there in silence for a few more seconds, letting your words dissipate into the air, sinking into the ground. Jeon Jungkook seems to have this furious battle within himself, brows furrowing as he rubs at his chin, pacing back and forth behind his desk. He knows he doesn’t have a choice. He goes to jail and his reputation is soiled. The Realm repossesses all that he has made of himself and he must start from scratch under their ruthlessly watchful eye. There will be no recovery. Only survival. 

Or, he deals with you for a couple of months until the Realm is satisfied with the both of you, and you both go on your merry way, never having to see each other again. 

You know what you’d pick if you were in his shoes. 

“Fine,” Jungkook spits out, pointing an accusing finger your way. “But you are to be invisible whenever we are in public, and that includes here.”

“Done. But you have to decrease your turning otherwise we’ll be stuck with each other forever,” you negotiate. “I’ll also have to come and live with you. Can you handle that, or are you too ashamed to have someone else inside your home?”

Jungkook scoffs. “I live in a penthouse the size of a museum. Pick whatever bedroom you fucking want. I doubt we’ll even see each other.” At least there’s one upside to having to stay with him in his massive residence.

“Fine,” you spit out, just for good measure. 

“Fine,” he counters back. Like anything about this conversation, this agreement, this goddamn life you have to live, is fine. 

Yeah, right. 

Jungkook’s penthouse is much more magnificent when you are more than two steps in the door. From where you had stood before, barely just past the door frame as he crumpled the parchment in his hand and tossed it into the trash bin, you hadn’t been able to see it in half its glory, let alone in full. When you can stand in the center of it all, eyes darting from the hallways and archways and spiral staircases leading to a rooftop pool or gym or both, it is overwhelming. Suffocating. 

His living room alone is larger than anything you have ever lived in, anything you have ever had the pleasure of calling your own. The ceiling is sky high and completely glass, streaks of sun shooting down and casting its rays on his chic furniture, deep hardwood floors. You’re so busy looking up that you nearly trip on a white rug laid out on the floor. 

“There are four bedrooms down that hallway and two down that one,” Jungkook says gruffly, flinging his keys into a bowl resting on a shelf and shrugging off his jacket, letting it hang over his forearm. How could one person possibly take up all of this space?

“Where do you sleep?” You ask. 

“That’s none of your business,” Jungkook says with a frown. 

“There’s no point in not telling me,” you remind him helpfully, “there’s only so many places you can be.”

Jungkook sighs. “It’s upstairs. But you can just sleep in any of the empty ones down here.”

“Thanks,” you deadpan. 

“Is that all you brought?” Jungkook asks with a raised eyebrow, looking at the backpack hanging loose off your shoulder. The zipper’s broken, so the outer flap is in a constant state of being folded over, but it works. 

“What, did you expect a moving truck?” You retort. 

“Ugh, forget I asked,” Jungkook says, shrugging his shoulders as he turns away from you. He begins to point around the room. “There should be some ready meals in the fridge if you’re hungry. TV’s always set to the news, but feel free to change it. Volume shouldn’t ever be over forty. Books are alphabetized by the author’s last name. No parties, though I don’t imagine you frequent those.” 

You can’t tell if that’s a jab or just him being observant, but either way, it’s true. You don’t even have any friends. 

“Fine, anything else?”

“Every bedroom has an ensuite bathroom,” Jungkook informs you. “So use that one. Don’t come into my bedroom. There’s more than enough space here for the both of us to go without seeing each other, so let’s keep it that way.”

“Aw, you mean I’m not allowed to wake up to your handsome face and infectious attitude every day?” You pout sarcastically, making Jungkook scrunch up his nose and frown. “Don’t forget that the only way you’re gonna get me out of here is if you listen to the Realm and follow my rules.”

“Yeah, which are?”

“You’re not allowed to turn at all when I’m around, whether or not you can physically see me. Every time you do is a strike. Three strikes—because I’m generous and forgiving—and I’ll report you to the Realm. The whole point of me being here is to make you stop using your powers all of the time.”

“It’s not like I’m doing any harm to people,” Jungkook defends. “You steal, what’s your excuse?”

“You use your power to add onto your already-enormous bank account,” you point out crudely. “I use mine to survive. It’s different.” Jungkook isn’t convinced. “But it doesn’t matter anyway, because I got caught and so did you and now we both have to deal with the consequences.”

He huffs to himself. 

“So do we have a deal?” You ask, glaring up at him, unrelenting. Jungkook’s chocolate brown eyes flicker as the gold around his house reflects off of his irises, like he’s trying desperately to find a way to get himself out of this before it’s too late. 

What he doesn’t realize is that the very first moment he ever turned something to gold, the very first time the object began to shimmer and spark, he was already too far gone. 

You suppose that in a way, so were you. 

“Fine,” Jungkook gruffs out, a veiny hand held out towards you. It’s stiff and cold, much in the same way that his penthouse is, that he is. This is not an agreement birthed from choice. It came from necessity, out of self-preservation. He is doing this to protect his reputation. You are doing it to protect your freedom. If all goes well, after a couple of months the two of you will never have to cross paths again. Oh, doesn’t that sound lovely? “Deal?”

You grab his hand in your own, squeezing tightly. There is no going back from this. 

“Deal.”

On the bright side, being a minder has finally given you something to do instead of stalking the streets and wasting away on your mattress on the floor. Granted, office life isn’t that much more entertaining, but at least you don’t have to be out in the summer heat anymore. 

As per your side of the deal, you remain invisible whenever Jungkook is out in public, which, quite frankly, is less frequently than you had originally anticipated. His entire life seems to go back and forth from home to work then work to home, an endless cycle, a Newton’s cradle on repeat. Maybe that’s why he’s such a prickly asshole—he doesn’t ever make time for things he enjoys. 

You thought he would at least have business dinners or fundraising events or company galas to attend. Isn’t that what most CEOs do? Flaunt their wealth to other wealthy people? Jungkook has so much money that he could easily entertain himself by one-upping all of his fellow CEO friends at every event he goes to, flashing the Rolex watch on his wrist or the fancy Italian shoes he always wears. 

But no. He wakes up, gets dressed, eats a meal from the ready-made ones wrapped in foil in his fridge, and goes to work. When he comes home, he takes off his suit jacket and shoes, eats dinner, and lounges around his penthouse. Works out sometimes, maybe watches a movie. 

Being rich always seemed to be a lot more fun than what Jungkook makes it out to be. Maybe it’s because everything in modern media is completely fake and wholly unrealistic. Or maybe he’s just purposefully making his life boring because you’re here now. 

But even if the only two places Jungkook ever goes are work and home, his personality doesn’t seem to change no matter what location he’s at. All of his employees are simultaneously frightened of him and desperate to please him, lowering their heads when he passes by their cubicle but placing finished report files and completed tasks at the edges of their desks for him to glance over as he does. You follow him like a wearied assistant (of which he actually has three, and you are just the annoying invisible one) and he acts like you aren’t even there. When Jungkook returns home with you carelessly traipsing in after him, turning visible the moment he closes the door, he shrugs off his outerwear and goes back to doing his very favorite thing in the whole world: pretending you don’t exist. 

At least that hasn’t changed since you moved in. 

The bright side is that Jungkook hasn’t turned at all since you’ve shown up. Not in his penthouse and not at work, though he is usually far too busy dealing with real-world issues to dwell on whether or not he’s got enough gold to his name. The answer is that he does, but he doesn’t give a shit about that. Too much is apparently never enough. 

Even if you are invisible, being in an office setting is somewhat unsettling to you. From a people-watching perspective, you love it, because you get an entire building of people to observe and judge, but from a personal perspective, it’s just another reminder of a life that you are not meant to live. 

All of these people in their ties and pencil skirts and uncomfortable leather shoes, fighting to beat each other out for the next promotion and desperate to please their absolutely unpleasable boss. A nine-to-five job, day in and day out. A fat check in their bank account every month. These are things that are both undesirable and unattainable to you. A glimpse into their lives doesn’t spur you to pursue a career path like theirs, it tells you that no matter what, you won’t ever be able to do what they do. 

“Sir, here are the finished analysis reports on the Lee Corporation joint stockholdings,” a proud young man says, plopping it down on Jungkook’s desk as you watch on in silence. The not-speaking part has been rather difficult, but you do get to whisper annoying things into Jungkook’s ear whenever nobody’s around. 

“They are completed?” Jungkook asks without even looking up at the man, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Did I not ask for them to be completed by Friday?”

The man goes white in the face. 

“Uh—” he begins, immediately losing all confidence he had when he entered Jungkook’s office. “Well, I—”

“I don’t appreciate belated work,” Jungkook spits out. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

The man nods and scurries out of the office before Jungkook can say anything else. He doesn’t even seem to care.

“Wow, couldn’t even say a ’thank you’?” You chide. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?”

“Late work is unacceptable,” Jungkook says. You’re lucky that his blinds are always drawn, or everyone would see him talking to apparently nobody. “There are no exceptions.”

“He was a day late,” you point out. 

“Three, if you include weekends.”

“That doesn’t make a difference; he wouldn’t have been able to turn them in over the weekend,” you tell him. 

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Jungkook orders sternly. He looks angry, but also foolish, because even though he can judge where you’re standing from the sound of your voice, he still can’t meet your eyes. He’s staring holes into the succulent plant on the shelf to your right. 

“I’m not,” you defend, annoyed. “I’m telling you how to be a nice person.”

“I don’t need lessons on that, either.” Jungkook frowns. “He turned in work late and was reprimanded. It’s not any different than what happens in school.”

“But you didn’t even thank him for his time or for showing up to your office, or for the fact that he did the work!” You cry out. 

“What should I be thanking him for? For making the thirty-feet trip from his desk to my office? For turning in work that he was obligated to do late?” Jungkook challenges. “He had to do those. He wasn’t doing me any favors.”

“Except he was, because if he didn’t do that work, then you would’ve had to do it,” you remind him. “Everybody here is doing work because you aren’t able to do all of it yourself. And that’s not your fault—there are only twenty-four hours in a day and you are only one person. But you should be thanking them for their contributions. Even when they turn in something a little late. It’ll do wonders for other people.”

“Are you implying that people don’t like working here?” It’s like he wants to keep this fight going. 

You sigh, loud enough for him to hear despite being a good few steps away from him. “I’m saying that everybody out there—” you say, opening the blinds that cover the walls ever so slightly, just enough for him to see out into the sea of people that sit outside, “—everybody wants so desperately for you to like them. Or at least outwardly display that you don’t hate them. And if you just said please and thank you every now and then, people wouldn’t be so afraid of you.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, he shuts it like a trap and sits back down. He probably doesn’t really appreciate the fact that you’re directing him on how he controls his office on top of how he uses his magic. But it’s the truth, and he had to hear it one way or another.

“I didn’t ask for suggestions on how to run this office,” he spits out. “Next time I think advice like this is warranted, I’ll ask.” Which will be never.

“I’m here whether you like it or not,” you stand your ground. Jungkook gets to put up with you no matter what! “So I’ll tell you whatever I feel is necessary.”

Jungkook scowls. 

“Don’t frown, it ruins your pretty face,” you tease. You walk a couple of steps and lean over to stretch his lips into a smile. He stiffens up, clearly having lost a sense of humor alongside his patience. “That’s better, don’t you think?”

“I can’t wait to get rid of you,” he bites. 

“You’ll have to get rid of that attitude, first,” you counter. “Or neither of us are going anywhere.”  Entitlement and greed go hand in hand. There’s no way you’ll be able to get Jungkook to stop turning everything around him into gold without giving his personality a makeover as well. Somewhere in there is a decent human being.

You just aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to find him.

The time spent at home is less eventful. Besides you, Jungkook has no one to shout at and be rude to, and in any case, he, for the most part, avoids you entirely. Which is understandable but totally counterproductive, because if you never interact, neither of you will ever get what you want. 

Still, there is plenty to keep yourself busy inside of his penthouse. He’s subscribed to every streaming service under the sun and has a movie theater-esque surround sound system lining the walls. He has more books than some small town libraries. His internet is stupidly fast. Even if this setup is temporary, you sure as hell aren’t going to waste a second of it. 

It is sort of weird to eat food with golden forks and knives, though. You always think you’re going to crack your teeth on your utensils. 

You and Jungkook aren’t on speaking terms right now because an hour ago you caught him turning a vase in his office gold, the metal slowly wrapping around the base of the pot like pixie dust, sparkling and shimmering as the clay was overlaid with a deep, lustrous yellow. It increased the value of the vase tenfold and sent the both of you flying back to square one. 

“Jungkook, what the hell?” You had shouted, storming into the room as Jungkook’s face turned beet red. “Just because I’m not sitting in the room with you doesn’t give you a free pass to do whatever you want.”

“It was just one pot!” Jungkook had defended himself. “I’m not even going to sell it or anything, it just looks nice. The room needed something extra.”

“I’ve upheld my side of the agreement, what’s so difficult about upholding yours?” 

“Oh yeah, like telling me how to do my job even though you have no experience in business whatsoever?” He had challenged. “I don’t think I agreed to that part of the deal.”

“Strike one, Jeon Jungkook,” you had spat out at him. “Otherwise there’s no way in hell you’re ever going to get rid of me.”

Granted, the vase did look much better in gold than it did when it was made of clay, a glazed design of ferns and vines wrapping around the base. But even if Jungkook does have a particularly good eye for interior design, it doesn’t give him a free pass to turn things just to match his chic aesthetic. How many other things has he turned when you weren’t around to shout at him? You’ll have to go through his entire house every day, taking stock of every single item inside of it, making sure that nothing has inexplicably turned to gold.

Defeated, you had returned back to the main living room, flopping around like a beached whale on the leather. Jungkook always has the television set to the news, so you put it on in the background as you count the minutes until you’re finally free. Judging from what’s happened so far, you think you’ll be here forever. 

There’s a knock on the door. You don’t recall Jungkook answering any buzzes to his home, but maybe he’s just ordered a pizza or something and it’s here. It’s nearly dinnertime, anyway. 

You wait a few seconds to see if Jungkook’s going to make any attempts at answering the door himself. When the knock repeats itself and Jungkook still doesn’t appear, you hop off of the couch to get it yourself. You’re hungry, and pizza sounds delicious right now. A massive upgrade from Campbell’s soups. 

When you open the door however, there is no pizza delivery guy behind the door. Instead, there is an extremely well-dressed couple who are smiling happily at you, albeit a little surprised to see you on the other side of the door. 

“Hello?” You ask, polite but confused. 

“Hello!” The man says happily, chortling to himself. “Who might you be?” One good look at the two of them tells you that they’re Jungkook’s parents. His dad has the same nose, and his mom has the same big, bright eyes. They would kick you to the curb if they knew who you were. 

“I’m Y/N,” you explain unhelpfully. 

“Well, Y/N, do you mind letting us inside? The air conditioning out in this hallway has always been too strong,” his dad asks. You nod awkwardly and step to the side, letting the two of them in. “Ah, looks the same as always. You must give Jungkookie that interior designer’s number, alright? He could do something much nicer with the place,” he tells his wife, who nods in agreement. She passes by the bowl that Jungkook always throws his keys into when he returns home and presses a finger to it, letting gold wrap around the edges until it’s transformed into the metal. 

“Jungkook!” You shout down the hallway, desperately hoping that he isn’t going to leave you alone with his parents. 

“What?” He shouts back. 

“We have visitors!” You call. 

Jungkook’s parents are already picking out all of the things about Jungkook’s living room layout that they would change, turning picture frames here and decorative sculptures there gold, careless and without reason. You’re standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying your best to look as unsurprised and as normal as possible. Luckily, you haven’t been interrogated yet, but there’s no telling what will happen if Jungkook doesn’t show up yet. 

Two minutes later, Jungkook comes strolling down the hallway, clearly uninterested, but his eyes practically bulge out of his head when he sees who’s come to say hello.

“M-Mom! Dad!” He sputters out, terrified. “What—what are you doing here?” He asks, looking at you nervously. You shrug unhelpfully. All you did was answer the door. 

“Came to pay our wonderful son a visit, of course!” His father says, guffawing loudly. He reaches an arm out and pulls Jungkook into a crushing hug. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, I mean—” Jungkook begins, speechless. “I wasn’t expecting you at all, you know.”

“I know!” His mother cries happily. “But you know that families must always stick together.”

“Yeah…” he trails off. “Listen, it’s really nice to see the both of you, but I’m kind of busy at the moment—”

“We should stay for dinner!” His mother suggests, a lightbulb going off above her head. “We haven’t seen you in so long—we have so much to catch up on! What do you say, honey?”

Jungkook’s father looks peachy keen. “Sounds like a great idea! And you can introduce us to Y/N too, hmm?”

“Okay…” Jungkook says. He turns to you and you’ve never seen him so caught off guard. With his big, wide eyes, he’s a deer in headlights. “Just, uh, give us a second, would you? Thanks.”

That’s the only warning you’re given before Jungkook is pulling you down the hallway and into the nearest bedroom, slamming the door shut behind the both of you. The sound of the wood hitting the frame makes you jump as Jungkook furrows his brows and turns to face you directly. 

“Alright, here’s the deal,” he says, looking you dead in the eyes as you stare up at him, unimpressed. “My parents can’t know that I’ve been assigned a minder. They just can’t. They’ve trusted me to run this business and to be in control of my life and I don’t even want to think about what they’ll do if they find out why you’re really here.”

“Okay, so?” You say with a frown. “I’ll turn invisible. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“But they’ve already seen you, you opened the goddamn door,” Jungkook says with a sigh, clearly exasperated. He rubs his forehead before his hand makes its way through his hair, brushing through the long, dark strands. 

“Well, sorry for not wanting to leave whoever was outside hanging,” you retort. 

“No, it’s fine, whatever,” Jungkook says. He paces around the room slightly, eyes glossing over the still life painting hung up on the wall and the door to the walk-in closet. He pauses in front of it for a moment, thinking, before he rounds on you. “Can I trust you to pretend to be my girlfriend for just one night while they’re here?”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“Please? They seem to already be under the impression that we’re dating anyway, and I don’t want to have to think of a different explanation for you,” Jungkook pleads. He’s desperate. 

“Let me get this straight: you want me, your minder, to fake being your girlfriend for your parents?” You ask, punctuating every word. This is worse than actually being his minder. 

Jungkook nods. “Just while they’re here. And then we can go back to avoiding each other. Please?” 

And for once, when you see Jeon Jungkook’s stupidly beautiful face, you don’t feel angry, or resentful, or envious. You feel… sympathy. It’s easy being rich and powerful, even easier when you don’t even need to work for your money, but parents are parents, no matter how much gold is in your pocket. 

Besides, it’s not like you rejecting him will have much of an effect on the grand scheme of things, anyway. You do, and then Jungkook has to spend an awkward night with his parents and you won’t accomplish anything. 

“Fine,” you say, begrudgingly so. “But only for tonight.”

“Oh God, thank you,” Jungkook says, and he actually means it. He dashes into the walk-in closet and pulls out a summery day dress, all flowy and floral, coming down to right above your knees. “Here, put this on. You know I don’t give a shit about what you wear but my parents will.”

“Why do you have this?” You ask, holding the hanger in your hand. One touch of the fabric and you can already feel the craftsmanship, the material sturdy and soft.

“An old hookup or something, probably.” Jungkook shrugs, nonchalant. 

You decide not to question whether or not you are about to wear something that Jungkook has had sex with someone in and head into the closet to change. From inside, you can hear Jungkook pacing back and forth in the bedroom, no doubt trying to come up with a believable story as to why you’ve suddenly appeared in his life and where you had come from. 

When you emerge, Jungkook stops dead in his tracks. This dress is easily the most expensive (and clean) thing you’ve ever put on your body, draping seamlessly along your hips and smoothing over all of the parts of your body you’ve never been too fond of. The sensation is pleasant but uncomfortable, as you have always vastly preferred your own clothes to other people’s, but wearing this at least doesn’t make you feel like you live in an abandoned house on the edge of town. 

“Wow,” Jungkook says dumbly, looking at you with his lips parted like a fish, mouth agape. He scratches at the nape of his neck and coughs. “You look kinda good.”

“How thoughtful of you to say,” you chide, basking in the feeling of finally catching Jungkook off guard. 

“Hopefully my parents won’t be here too long,” Jungkook says as he opens the door, letting you exit first. “Normally, they stick around just long enough to tell me about all of the things in my life that I’m currently doing wrong or should improve upon, and then they leave.”

“Fun.” It doesn’t sound very fun at all. 

“At least this time they won’t be grilling me about a girlfriend,” Jungkook says, offering you a grateful smile as you return to the main living space, where Jungkook’s parents are in the middle of turning some of the decorative trinkets on his shelves gold. “Sorry,” he begins, catching his parents’ attention. “We were just talking. Y/N had to change.”

“She looks lovely in that dress, did you buy it for her?” His mother asks. You send a small smile of thanks. 

“Yes, of course,” Jungkook lies. You think not knowing the origins of this dress is best for both you and him. He shuffles the both of you into the kitchen, an awkward hand on the small of your back. If you were a third party watching the two of you, you could sniff out the fake gestures and affection from a mile away. No two people in love are this stiff around each other. 

His parents wait in the living space, blissfully ignorant, as the two of you fumble around in the kitchen in a last-minute attempt to scrounge up something resembling an acceptable meal. You, admittedly, do not use a kitchen fairly often, and stick to pouring the four of you some wine as Jungkook fishes through his fridge and cabinets. He eventually decides on heating up a pre-made pasta dish, filled with all sorts of vegetables you couldn’t name even if you tried. It smells good, at least. 

For someone who seems to rely entirely on a personal chef to do most of his cooking, Jungkook knows his way around the kitchen fairly well, bouncing from one end to the other as if he’s running on a mental timer. Granted, he isn’t actually cooking anything, but compared to you, he may as well be a top chef at a five-star restaurant. Ten minutes later and he’s got a mouth-watering spaghetti dish, topped with vegetables and what looks to be an herb garnish, a side salad, and four glasses of wine that you so expertly poured. 

Unfortunately, with his parents around, you and Jungkook don’t get to go through your usual meal ritual of sitting as far away from each other as physically possible and not talking whatsoever, sitting down next to each other in his fancy suede dining chairs as his parents take the two seats opposite you. Jungkook’s dining table only seats six, despite the sheer size of his actual dining room, and quite frankly, you have never seen him actually use it for what it’s meant for: dining. 

“Delicious, did you make this?” His father asks, already reaching over to serve himself some. 

“Y/N helped.” No you didn’t.

The serving utensils then move to Jungkook’s mother, who does not turn them into gold, instead opting for a baby tomato, which she places in her drink to serve as some sort of extremely niche ice cube. You can’t imagine how good that will taste. Jungkook’s father laughs at his mother, who is obviously proud of herself. Jungkook forces himself to chuckle ever so slightly, and you crack a very helpless smile. It doesn’t really take a genius to figure out where Jungkook got his turning habits from. 

“So, Y/N,” Jungkook’s father begins, catching you right as you shove an entire forkful of pasta into your mouth, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk getting ready for the winter, “how long have you known our son?”

“Uh, a couple of—”

“A couple of months,” Jungkook interrupts, speaking louder than usual. “We met at the Park Gala that they hosted, do you remember?”

You kick Jungkook’s shin under the table, making him wince. 

“Ah, yes.” His mother nods in recollection. “Unfortunately we were on that cruise through France, so we couldn’t make it. A shame, we would have loved to meet you then. Are you a friend of the Parks?”

“An associate,” Jungkook explains as vaguely as possible. “Y/N works in law.”

“Ah, law,” Jungkook’s father says romantically, twirling his fork around in the air. “The conscience of business.”

“Yeah,” you say, forcing out a small laugh. The less you say, the better. Though it is ironic that you now apparently work in law, considering your favorite activity is breaking it. You suppose that nobody knows the law better than its criminals. 

“Where are you from, Y/N? Do we know your parents?” This is starting to sound less like a dinner conversation and more like an interrogation. 

“Y/N actually built herself up,” Jungkook covers for you. Lord knows revealing your true background would send both of his parents storming out of the building. “She doesn’t like to talk about her parents very much.”

That’s one way of putting it. 

“Ah, what a shame,” his mother tuts, shaking her head. “We’d love to meet them.”

“Yeah…” you agree distantly, making a mental note to give Jungkook a good shove when this is all over. Well, two can play at this game. “Jungkook is teaching me a lot about how you guys run your business.” You add pointedly, earning a leg kick in return. “It’s very interesting to see from a law perspective.” More like from a human perspective. 

“Oh, you must be very impressed,” his father says proudly, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “We’ve all worked extremely hard to get where we are.” Because turning things to gold at the press of a finger is truly such a taxing job.

“I’m certainly surprised,” you say back, sending a patient but stiff smile their way. They return the favor easily. Maybe you’re more like these people than you thought. “It’s a big change from what I’m used to.” Jungkook smacks his leg against yours, and you retaliate not a moment afterwards.

“I’m sure,” his mother says, voice sickly sweet. “But you’ll be able to adjust in no time. It’s definitely a level up, is it not?”

Jungkook looks like a lost child in a grocery store aisle, eyes wide as they flit back and forth between you and his parents, hurling thinly-veiled insults at each other like it’s nobody’s business. 

“It’s different,” you respond. 

“Well, I’m sure that Jungkook is doing all that he can to accommodate you,” his father says. “Sometimes the people he chooses to date are… not ideal for this sort of lifestyle. We hope that you are able to adjust quickly. We understand that this is a lot.”

“I certainly hope that I’m a good match, then,” you finish, because something inside of you can’t bear to let Jungkook’s stuffy, elitist parents get the last word. 

The rest of the meal is rather silent, save for a few mindless comments about how poorly Jungkook’s decorated his dining room. You and Jungkook have been warring underneath the dinner table all evening, your shins undoubtedly sporting bruises, because apparently everything the two of you are saying to his parents is wrong. Jungkook’s parents either don’t know or don’t care, because they don’t say anything about the tension that settled over the table like a cloud of fog, thick and potent. 

When everyone’s finished eating, Jungkook’s parents head straight to the door, determining that their contributions to his evening and his penthouse are enough—for now. Who knows if or when they’ll return. You and Jungkook have no choice but to see them off, rounding out the night just as you started: fake, empty smiles. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Y/N,” his mother tells you, hand clutching her purse. “I hope that we may see each other again sometime soon.”

“Yes, I am looking forward to it,” you say with glee, knowing that the chances of you never having to speak to her again are well in your favor. 

“Nice work, son,” his father says, a heavy hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Just let us know if you ever need anything.”

“Will do,” Jungkook promises distantly. You can tell that Jungkook doesn’t ask his father for advice too often. 

You bid your goodbyes and Jungkook shuts the door behind them, and it’s almost as the atmosphere immediately begins to clear, the air conditioning cycling out the tension, like a breath of fresh air. 

“Ugh, thank God that’s over,” you huff out, already itching to get out of this dress and back into your own clothes. It was gorgeous at first, but now it’s just an ugly reminder. 

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Jungkook says. 

“’Wasn’t that bad’?” You repeat. It’s as if the words went in through Jungkook’s one ear and right out the other. “Are you serious? It was unbearable. Your parents were judging me from the moment I opened the door. No wonder you’ve never had a lasting girlfriend. I couldn’t think of anyone who would want to deal with that.”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook says, rounding on you as fire burns in his eyes. “What do you mean, ’that’?”

“I mean that I don’t know how on Earth people just accept the fact that in other people’s eyes, they’ll never be good enough?” You tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. This sort of life has been so ingrained into Jungkook’s head that he doesn’t even recognize it as unwelcoming and stifling. “I couldn’t stand being your girlfriend. Your parents are judgy and rude, and you all act like people who don’t come from as much money and power as you have no business sitting where you sit.”

“So your best approach was to shade and insult my parents in return?” He combats. “I would hate to be your boyfriend. My parents get more aggressive when people fight them, but you shove me under the table when I try to get you to back down? Just so you can have the final word to two people you’ll probably never see again?”

“The fact that anyone has dated you astounds me,” you tell him. 

“The fact that nobody’s dated you doesn’t astound me,” Jungkook spits back. 

You frown, embers flaring in your boiling blood. What, did Jungkook think you were going to enjoy yourself tonight? By pretending to be some sort of ditzy, desperate-to-please girlfriend? “You’re welcome for doing you a favor and not just straight up telling your parents you’ve been assigned a minder because you can’t handle your own powers. Don’t expect me to do it again.”

“I’m not planning on it,” Jungkook mumbles to himself, just loud enough for you to hear. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You and Jungkook march down opposite hallways, desperate for this night to be over. You tear off the dress and let it sit at the foot of the bed, taunting you. 

There is no way in hell you are ever leaving this place. 

The time spent at work is allocated half towards following Jungkook around like an invisible puppy with a personal vendetta against him, making sure that he doesn’t turn, and half towards wishing that something actually interesting will happen. Jungkook runs so tight a ship that nobody ever seems to want to do anything fun or exciting, no doughnuts, no inside jokes, no pranks. Just an endless cycle of trying desperately to please the unpleasable.

Admittedly, nowadays, you don’t really mind being here as much as you used to, when you would mentally criticize every person that walked through the glass doors to Jungkook’s office, hands filled with stacks of paper and manila folders, plopped onto Jungkook’s desk one by one. Jungkook’s started to keep extra food up in his office, the mini-fridge by his bookshelves constantly filled with takeaway salads and fruit. Apples are a definite no-go because they’re too loud, and you can only ever risk eating salads when nobody’s around to hear you pop the plastic top off of the container, but other than that, it’s nice.

Jungkook has pretty good taste in food, too, which is an added bonus. Though anything is a leg up from what you normally eat.

And even though you’ve begun to start roaming around, exploring the nooks and crannies that line the clean-cut layout, your favorite place to be is Jungkook’s office. He’s got these magnificent floor-to-ceiling glass windows, with a view directly over the biggest park in the city, thousands of feet up in the air. From up here, it almost feels as though you’re looking down at a different world, a different universe. It’s difficult to imagine that everyone down there, every ant-sized person walking along the sidewalk or resting on a park bench or ordering from a food stand, has lives of their own.

Especially when they are but specks of dust in yours.

Jungkook looks at this view forty hours a week. You wonder if he ever gets sick of it.

The door to Jungkook’s office creaks open as you’re staring out of the windows, watching as the clouds pass overhead. They look like little white dogs, like cotton candy, like angel wings.

“Mr. Jeon?”

The owner of the voice is the same man you berated Jungkook for shouting at a few weeks ago, the one who had turned in an analysis report a day late. He seems just as frightened of Jungkook now as he did back then, and it makes you wonder if any of Jungkook’s employees aren’t afraid of him.

“Here’s the completed budget report for the Lee Corporation for last fiscal year,” the man says, reaching a trembling hand out to lay a manila folder on Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook only looks up once he sees it out of his periphery, hand pausing mid-write, pen still hovering over the papers on his desk.

He meets the man’s eyes, and when he does, he cracks a small smile, this sort of barely-there grin, lips curling upwards ever so slightly. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

It’s as if the man has won the lottery. He thanks Jungkook quickly before bouncing out of the room, steps much lighter, like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. You watch as he leaves the room, a smile etching itself onto your face. It’s rather incredible what a simple ‘thank you’ can do to people.

You don’t say anything to Jungkook, instead just turning back around to gaze out of the window. There’s an entire city below your feet, one that bustles around like bees in a hive, everyone with a place to be and things to do. There is this strange but comforting feeling of insignificance, one where you feel as though you could disappear and nobody would notice a thing. The rest of the world can and will move on without you. But that doesn’t mean that your life means nothing. It means that your life can be whatever you want to make of it, because in the grand scheme of things, nobody else will know what you have done.

History is like that, too. You must be remarkable to be remembered. But that doesn’t mean the unremarkable people were forgotten. They touched lives, too.

Staring out the window as the clouds swim over the sun, a light grey shadow casting itself over the park, you feel at peace.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

You jump at the voice, Jungkook’s presence next to you having gone totally unnoticed. You didn’t even hear him get up from his chair.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask.

“I could sense it," Jungkook says with a grin, making you raise an eyebrow. You’re invisible. “I’m kidding, I saw you come over here a bunch last week when you first got into my office and I figured you’d probably still be here.”

“You figured correctly,” you tell him.

“You know, I don’t spend enough time looking out these windows,” Jungkook admits, and you aren’t sure if it’s to you or himself. “I’m always staring at my computer or writing something at my desk with my head down. I’ve got the best view in the whole city and sometimes, I don’t even remember what it looks like.”

“You work hard,” you tell him, because that’s something that is undeniable about who he is and what he does. “But you deserve to give yourself a break, every now and then.”

“For lunch breaks, the first thing I do is get out of my office. I spend all day in there and when it’s finally time for me to put work on pause, I rush out of the room like it’s on fire,” Jungkook comments. “Maybe I should stay up here every once in a while instead.”

“It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere,” you joke.

“You can, you know,” Jungkook tells you. “You don’t have to stay up here all day.”

“I know,” you say. “But I don’t really mind it. I like being here. It’s calming, in a way.” In a way that you can’t explain. Like you’re stuck in freeze frame while everyone else moves around you. Like you’re watching a movie about everybody’s lives but your own. Like you’re a spectator in your own body. “Plus, the view is gorgeous.”

“It is,” Jungkook agrees.

You stand there in silence for a few more moments, the only sounds filling the room your inhales and exhales, soft and slow, your hearts beating in time. Jungkook is more than a foot away from you but here, in his office, looking out over the world, he has never felt closer.

“Thank you,” you whisper, letting the words hang in the air in front of you.

“For what?” Jungkook asks.

“For listening to me.”

You feel Jungkook turn to you, and when you dare to look up at him, you meet his hazy brown eyes, warm and sparkly. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a magazine cover come to life, crisp shirt collars and fancy Italian shoes, glossy brown hair and perfect skin. He smiles at you, this homey sort of thing that makes you feel like summer is running through your veins, like the rays of the sun are pressing against your skin.

“Of course,” he tells you.

Jungkook is a lot of things. He’s unabashedly gorgeous and outrageously wealthy. He walks around like he owns everything that he touches. His house is clean and chic and minimalist, almost like nobody lives there at all. He’s determined and a workaholic, and hates admitting when he’s wrong.

But maybe, just maybe, in the white afternoon light of his office, the rest of the world underneath his feet, standing next to you as the two of you stare out in a city you call your own, he’s not that bad.

Being alone in Jungkook’s penthouse is, to put it lightly, absolutely terrifying.

It’s hard to believe that Jungkook--and maybe a girlfriend for a brief period--has occupied this entire space on his own, no one else to talk to, no one else to spend time with, no one to occupy his massive couches or fill up the chairs in his dining room.

You’ve always wondered why rich people buy the biggest houses. Sure, it’s because they’re rich, and because they can afford it, but it’s impossible for one person, or even two, to make the entire place feel like their own. You leave countless rooms untouched, meant for guests that you never have and parties that you never host. It’s like you’ve moved into half of a house, a quarter of a mansion. What’s the point of having so much space if you don’t ever have anyone to fill it up?

Normally you wouldn’t leave Jungkook’s side, following him around the city whenever he has errands to run or needs to dash back to work to pick up something he had forgotten. But Jungkook hasn’t been turning anything lately, even when you sleep in four hours later than he does, even when he stays up into the early hours of the morning while you pass out before it’s midnight. It’s like he’s somehow lost the will for his magic entirely, like it’s vanished from his body.

Well, you’re not complaining. That just means you’re one step closer to finishing your sentence.

Jungkook’s penthouse feels bigger when he’s not around. Even though you hardly ever see each other while you’re at home, the mere knowledge of his presence makes you feel like you’re not alone. Makes you feel like there is someone else in this little corner of the world.

Everything in here has always looked untouched. Like it doesn’t belong to anybody, like a house listing come to life. His marble counters are always empty, his cabinets always closed and organized. His books are always alphabetized and the stack of art books on his coffee table has never been touched. All of the bedrooms look like they belong in a hotel. The bathrooms look like they belong in a museum.

Jungkook’s house has never felt like a home but then again, neither has yours.

Still, if you had to choose between living in your abandoned shack at the edge of town or living in an enormous penthouse in the center of the city, you would never look back at that old, dilapidated building. The difference between you and Jungkook is that Jungkook chooses to live in this tragically empty place.

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand Jungkook’s life. Not just the technicalities of the company he runs, the economics and business that he has spent his whole life mastering, but also the way he sees the world in terms of money and power, how everything has some sort of value, even people. Even you. His biggest concern has always been himself. How much money he has matters, how many investments his company owns matters, how the public views him matters. He has spent so long crafting this perfect image of himself that he’s willing to spend as much money as necessary to maintain it. 

Jungkook doesn’t even look at the total on the card reader when he purchases things. He simply tugs his silver card out of a sleek black wallet and swipes, crumpling the receipt up in his hand before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. He comes back home to a gigantic penthouse with a gym and his pool and more bedrooms than he can count on both hands, to a personal chef in his kitchen making him five-star meals to last him the rest of the week. 

Money is never on his mind, but it is always on yours. 

When will you get enough to pay off your phone bill, will you ever be able to afford a repairman to fix the broken, exposed lightbulb above the back door, how many Campbell’s soups can you buy and still have enough funds to last you until the next day? What if, God forbid, the city comes knocking on your door and either evicts you or orders you to pay up for the three years you’ve been living in that house, rent-free? What will you do then?

Life is by no means easy for either of you, but Jeon Jungkook has never had to want for anything. If it isn’t handed to him, he works for it himself. If he can’t buy it, he’ll just make more money. If he doesn’t already own it, what’s stopping him?

People dream of having Jungkook’s life. People fear having yours. 

Alone in Jungkook’s apartment, the differences between the two of you have never been clearer. 

Your greatest fear is the fact that, in the past few weeks you have spent here, you are already becoming used to it. You are dreading going back to where you were before, stealing money from people off of the streets and living in a house in such disrepair that local nons think that it’s haunted. You fear that you will never want to leave. 

It’s such a terrifying feeling, isn’t it? Becoming attached to something. Feeling as though your life will be worse without it. Knowing that your life will be worse without it. 

There are parts of you that make you wish that life wasn’t so unfair. 

The living room is three times the size of the dining room but you hate eating there, sitting at an empty table with no one to talk to but suede chairs, reminding you that you don’t even have any friends to invite anyway. At least in the living room you can sit on the couch and watch television and pretend that you have at least some semblance of a life. 

You pick at a pre-made salad that has too much lettuce and not enough everything else—Jungkook needs a new chef, you decide, plucking out all of the croutons and slices of cheddar cheese, when the front door swings open, slamming against the wall adjacent to it as Jungkook storms inside. 

“Oh my God, what happened to you?” You exclaim, eyes practically bulging out of your head as you jump off of the couch. Even from here, you can see the dark bruising around Jungkook’s eye, purple and blue, the busted up knuckles clenched around the bag he’s carrying. There’s even a small streak of blood on his upper left cheek, already beginning to scab. 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he says, wiping away the blood on his lip with the back of his hand. 

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, rushing up to meet him in the middle of the foyer, standing in front of him as you look up at his face with wide eyes. He waits there patiently, avoiding your gaze, steely eyes looking elsewhere, as you reach up to hold his head in your hands, tilting it from side to side. “What happened to you?”

“Some dudes jumped me in the parking lot on the way back,” Jungkook says casually. You’d almost believe he didn’t feel anything if he doesn’t wince when you press a gentle fingertip along the bruise on his jawline. He meets your frightened expression and smirks wickedly, something glinting in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I got ‘em good.”

“Are you alright?” You ask him, even though it’s obvious he’s not. “You aren’t seriously injured or anything, are you?”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a sigh, even as he obeys your movements and moves his body pliantly to the feeling of your hands pressing against his skin. Most of the visible damage seems to be to his face and hands, and quite frankly, you’re not exactly sure if you want to see what’s underneath his dress shirt. “I’m strong. I work out and eat healthy and everything. I’ll be better in no time.”

“No, are you kidding?” You say, reaching out to grab his hand without a second thought, pulling him towards the nearest bathroom. “You can’t just leave it like this. Here, let me heal you.”

“I don’t need you to patch me up or anything,” Jungkook resists, frowning as you sit him down on the edge of the bathtub and begin to fish through his bathroom cabinets. “First aid isn’t in that one.”

“No, you idiot,” you chide him. “I’m not gonna patch you up. Aren’t you forgetting that I’m a healer?” 

“So what are you gonna do, then?” 

You finally find the first aid kit and pull it out, revealing rolls of gauze and bottles of rubbing alcohol and disinfectant. There’s even a couple of rows of Ibuprofen. “Well, you should be patched up anyway,” you decide, turning back to look at Jungkook’s face as he waits obediently on the edge of the tub. “But I can heal you faster than what time and medicine can do on their own.”

“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says softly. 

“Please, of course I do,” you reply instantly. You’re not gonna let Jungkook walk around like that. “We can’t have your pretty face all messed up, now can we?”

Jungkook cracks a small smile but it’s obvious that the simple gesture alone pains him, making him wince slightly as his lips turn upwards. You wet a face cloth with cold water and press it against Jungkook’s bruises, looking intently at his features as you move the cloth around, letting the cold water draw out the heat that sizzles beneath his skin. Jungkook watches you the whole time, his eyes never leaving yours, even as your brows furrow in concentration, determined to fix Jungkook back up so he’s brand new. Slowly, the bruises begin to fade, going from an angry violet to a light lavender, and then to a pink that could almost be mistaken for a heavy blush.

It feels weird, knowing that he’s right there. Knowing that he’s watching you, eyes following yours as they scan his face. His clean-cut jawline is a little swollen, perfect skin angry and marked, but his eyes are still the same. Still wide and bright, like a young child, like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time. They look almost caramel in the yellow light of the bathroom, flecks of gold to mirror the accents in the room. 

There’s something about them that makes you not want to turn away. 

When the bruises have faded, leaving only petal pink remnants along his skin, you move onto the small cut along his cheek. It’s rough and jagged, like the skin had been torn right through, a nick from a fingernail or a knuckle. It’s not long, but it is somewhat deep. You imagine it might scar permanently. 

Kneeling down in front of him, you pull out some rubbing alcohol and a cotton pad, dabbing a gentle amount onto the round before moving closer, holding his head in your hand as you reach out. 

“This might sting,” you say, like he doesn’t already know. 

“That’s alright,” Jungkook tells you. “Fix me up, doctor.”

At his cue, you softly press the cotton pad against the scab, rubbing away at it until it comes off cleanly, leaving only fresh, exposed skin behind. For wounds like these, a cloth won’t do. Your mother used to tell you that healing didn’t come from your hands, it came from your heart. That even if your fingertips had the magic, it was your heart that had the power to wield it. 

Slowly, you rest your palm against his cheek, rubbing your thumb along the cut. Jungkook blinks, big eyes shimmering, as you do so, and you feel trapped in his gaze. Like you couldn’t turn away even if you tried. Like you almost wouldn’t want to. His skin is baby soft, perfect, a far cry from the calloused pads of your fingertips, worn from so many days and nights out on the streets. 

There is magic in your fingertips, surely, but there is something different in your heart. Something that you don’t think you have the words to explain.

The cut seals up instantly, the skin patching over itself until nothing is left but a mark, a little scar that will stay there forever. And yet, you stay there, locked in his magnetic pull, like tearing away will hurt you rather than him. The cut is healed, and his bruises are fading, and there is no reason to stay like this. 

And yet. 

“There,” you whisper, watching the words appear between the two of you, lingering like ghosts. “All better.”

Jungkook grins. It doesn’t hurt him, but something in you feels a sharp jolt, an ache. Like a spark in the pit of your belly. Like magic in your veins. 

Jungkook has been tearing his hair out over this one manila folder in front of him for the past twenty minutes. Every ten seconds he writes something down before scribbling it out, the ink bleeding through the paper to the next one. He flips through the files relentlessly, carelessly, until they’re all out of order and splayed all over his desk. He’s instructed the guard outside not to let anyone in, even if it’s some sort of emergency. 

You’ve seen Jungkook at work a lot, but you’ve never seen him like this. Even his anguished sighs are difficult to listen to. 

Creeping over to the wall that overlooks the rest of the office, Venetian blinds shielding the both of you from view, you crack open a slat, peeking out at everyone else. None of them pay any attention to Jungkook’s office, too busy worrying about the next report they have to complete and all of the office meetings they have to attend, so you take it as a good opportunity to turn visible. Just for a little bit. 

“You alright?” You ask, nearly making Jungkook fall out of his seat at the sound of your voice. 

“What?” He asks, surprised. “Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“What’s the matter?” You ask, because you’ve never seen Jungkook as stressed out as he is now. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to organize this new collective to monitor our investing habits so we can assess where investments need to be divvied up into in order for clients to find us worth of their own investments as opposed to other companies,” Jungkook explains, though he sounds positively exhausted while doing so, like the very mention of what he’s slaving over is enough to send him over the edge. “But no one can agree on how we can use this information to promote this company to our clients and the public. People invest in both of us either way.”

“You want people to invest more money in your company, don’t you?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, yeah.” 

“How much money does this company give to small businesses? To nonprofits and charity?”

Jungkook frowns, scrunching up his nose as he thinks. He clicks around on his computer for a few seconds before saying, “About five percent.”

“And your investments are public, correct?”

“Yes.” Jungkook nods. 

“You should be giving way more than five percent of this company’s investments to small, local businesses and charity,” you tell Jungkook, already worming your way behind his desk to look at what he’s looking at. You point to the numbers on his screen, single-digit percentages, some even less than one, being sent to local businesses, nonprofits, and charities. “Look at this. Ninety-five of your investments go right into stocks. If you invested more money into nonprofits and local businesses, people would see you taking the time to help boost the local economy and the organizations that serve it for free. Then, those businesses would invest in you in return, and clients would see that you’re investing in noble causes and give you more money as a thanks, which can then be funnelled back to small businesses and nonprofits.”

It’s a rather roundabout sort of proposal and you’re almost positive that it has no real footing anywhere in real economics and finance, but it makes sense to you. If you had money to invest in major companies, you would choose the ones that invest in the things that will benefit you, like local businesses and nonprofits. If you saw that the companies you were giving money to were simply giving it away to the stock market, you’d pull your money out. 

You know that the stock market is nothing but the world’s biggest economic gamble, but that doesn’t mean that you have to gamble with it. Companies that stand for what you stand for are much more appealing than companies with a bigger investment bank behind them. 

You turn to Jungkook, who is squinting at his computer screen as he fumbles around with the numbers, flicking from Excel sheet to Excel sheet, bouncing back and forth between the information online and the files on top of his desk. 

“Is that stupid?” You ask, breaking the silence. It’s not as if people know you for your groundbreaking economic policies. 

Jungkook spares one more glance over all of his files, and turns up to look at you. “No,” he tells you with a shake of his head. “It’s not.”

“Really?” You’re actually impressed with yourself. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees happily. “You’re right—I’d want to know that my investments were going to a company with good morals that lifts up local businesses. It would encourage me to invest more, too.”

“It’s not a very sound economic theory…” You admit. Jungkook’s probably seasoned in how investments and the stock markets work, charts upon charts of client behavior that shapes the way he organizes his company. And you? You don’t have enough money to even buy food some days. 

“It doesn’t have to be,” Jungkook assures you. “Theory is total bullshit anyway, because nobody can predict what will happen with the economy. But human nature has always been reliably good. People like to know that their money is going to a good cause.”

“So, it helps?” You ask with a smile. 

Jungkook nods. “It does. It’s actually a great idea, Y/N. You might have a future in business.”

You scoff. “Me? I don’t know the first thing about this stuff.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You don’t need to. You’re a good person who thinks about everyone, Y/N. That’s why you’d be good at business. Because your clients can trust you, and you’ll actually put your money where your mouth is.” 

“I guess,” you say unhelpfully. Just because you think about others doesn’t make you especially remarkable. It makes you human. Isn’t that how everyone’s supposed to be? “I just don’t think about clients and money like you do. Money’s always been really valuable to me, since I’ve never had much of it, but you guys see it as expendable. I need to know where my money goes, I don’t want to see it just vanish into the hands of someone else.” Jungkook’s nodding along, eyes looking intently at your own, like he’s committing the words you say to his memory. “I just think that people and companies with tons of money have a duty to give back to those who are less fortunate. That’s all.”

“That’s noble of you,” Jungkook says. 

“It’s just common sense,” you explain. “Why wouldn’t you want to do something like that?”

Jungkook heaves a sigh, a long, winded sort of one, like there’s a whole conversation behind it that he wishes he could have with you. But instead, he just shakes his head, a fond smile lacing its way across his features. He chuckles to himself. “Maybe you aren’t cut out for business after all, Y/N,” he tells you softly. “You have too big a heart.”

And maybe that’s true. Maybe you’re too kind, too generous, to ever make it in business. To succeed without losing every penny to your name. 

But if that’s the case, then where does Jungkook stand?

When Jungkook stays at work late, the two of you eat dinner together. 

There’s just something so demoralizing about coming back to an empty house, letting the hollow sound of the door slamming shut echo throughout the room, and then marching off in different directions to spend the rest of the night alone. When it’s dark, and late, and you’re starving, it’s all you can do not to beg Jungkook to eat with you. Even if in silence. 

By the time you get home, your stomach is just about ready to consume the art books sitting in a neat stack at the top right corner of the coffee table. You begin to clear off some space for the both of you to eat as Jungkook heads towards the refrigerator, when not three seconds after, you hear him swear, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s the matter?” You call out. 

“We’re out of premade meals!” Jungkook shouts back. What? You could have sworn there were at least two full tupperwares still available. Actually, maybe you had eaten them for lunch… 

“Really?” You get up from the coffee table and make your way into the kitchen, where Jungkook is standing in front of a refrigerator with the entire middle section wiped clean, empty shelves mocking the both of you as you glare at them. “Oh, wow. Really.”

“I didn’t know we ate that much,” Jungkook comments, shocked at the sight before him. 

“What are we gonna do?” You ask. You’re hungry. 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook says with a laugh. He kneels down and begins to pull vegetables from the drawers, plucking different bottles from inside the fridge door and plastic cartons from the top shelves, the ones that you never dare touch. “We’ll cook something, obviously.”

“Can’t we just order takeout?”

“You don’t wanna cook something with me?” Jungkook asks, eyes wide and pouty. You shake your head guiltily. Is ordering a pizza really so much to ask? Jungkook narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, a grin pulling at his lips, before he nods knowingly. “Oh, I get it.”

“Get what?” You challenge. 

“You don’t know how to cook.”

“What? I know how to cook!” You cry out, aghast. True, your past meals have mostly involved warming food up in the microwave, but that counts, in your book. Jungkook frowns in disbelief. “I know how to use a microwave.”

Jungkook tosses his head back and laughs, this warm, hearty sound filling up the kitchen, before he starts placing all of the containers and bottles and vegetables he pulled out from the fridge onto the counter. “Okay, we’re going to make something together.”

“Seriously?” You say, borderline whining. “Can’t you just do it?”

“No,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “because you have to help me. Kitchen’s orders.”

“You’re the kitchen!”

“Exactly,” Jungkook says, smiling to himself. He pulls out some more ingredients from the cabinets, hands deftly reaching for the exact ones he wants, until you have a collection of food, seasonings, and sauces on the countertop, and an apparent recipe to be made. 

“What are we making?” You ask, looking down at everything on the counter. All of these things can’t go into one dish… can they?

“An old family recipe,” Jungkook says. “Kimchi jjigae. It’s kimchi stew.”

“Is it easy?” 

Jungkook grins something wicked, something devilish. “It’s fun.”

He sets out to put a pot on the stove, turning the gas on, bouncing back and forth between the stovetop and the counter as you stand there like a floundering fish, waiting for him to either give you an instruction or do everything himself.

“Can you cut the green onions?” Jungkook asks as he adds water and what looks to be tiny little fish to the pot, reaching behind his back to gesture wildly at the ingredients sitting on the marble. 

“Which are those?” You scan the countertop. Your familiarity with food and recipes extends about as far as anything non-perishable that comes in a tin can. Never in your life have you seen so much laid out in front of you, all meant to go into the same meal. 

The metal lid clinks as Jungkook covers the pot to boil, turning around to join you at the counter, where you wait awkwardly in front of an unused chopping board, no knife in sight. 

“These,” he says, reaching over you to pull up several stalks of something that looks similar to the wild onions that grow in your backyard. He fishes through the drawers before he pulls out a kitchen knife, gently placing it in your hand as he moves around to grab all of the other ingredients he needs for the boiling water on the stovetop. 

Hesitantly, you line up the onions and begin to chop, carefully sawing through each one until it comes cleanly off of the stalk. It’s awfully time-consuming, especially since Jungkook seems to have already made the stock base in the time it’s taken you to cut one. Nevertheless, you persist, because Jungkook wants these to go in the pot, and you refuse to be seen as incompetent in the kitchen, especially when Jungkook seems to be rather proficient when it comes to cooking despite the fact that a chef makes the majority of his meals for him. 

Old family recipes die hard, you suppose. 

Jungkook turns around to check on you and grab a small red container of what looks to be some sort of spicy pepper paste. When he sees you carefully slicing through each onion stalk, he laughs. 

“Hey, what are you laughing at?” You say, pouting. You don’t think you’re doing a terrible job, even if you are a bit slow. 

“You,” Jungkook says with a grin, not even bothering to think of something else to say instead. “Here, let me show you.”

He comes to stand behind you, his torso pressing against your back, as he reaches his arms around you, hands gently resting atop your own. There is something in the way his breath hits your skin, tickles the part right behind your ear that’s always been sensitive, how he leans down to look over your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest against you. Something strange and foreign and calming, like when you tense up right before you fall asleep.

Frozen, you watch with nervous eyes as he holds your hand in his own, grasping onto the knife. He stacks a few onion stalks next to each other on top of the cutting board and slowly begins to cut—thin, quick slices until he develops a rhythm, an imaginary beat to the drumming of his heart, to the pounding of your own. 

The seconds seem to drag on for eternity, as if every cut through the vegetable is done in slow-motion, like time has slowed down just for the two of you. His breath tickles your skin, hot and tingly and filled with fire, lighting sparks everywhere it touches. You think that, if you concentrate hard enough, you can hear the way his heart thumps like a bass drum, ringing in your ears. Or maybe that’s just you. 

When four green onion stalks have been cut down to their very tips, suddenly the world speeds up, like the breaths that have slowly been leaving your lips come out all at once, like your heart picks up time to a universal metronome, desperate to realign itself once more. 

“There,” Jungkook murmurs from behind you. The words are soft and distant, almost like someone else had uttered them. “All done.”

You blame the tears welling in your eyes on the onions. 

Thirty minutes and an overwhelming amount of slicing different ingredients later, there is a boiling pot of kimchi stew on the stove, steaming up the inside of the glass lid that Jungkook has placed on top to keep it warm. He’s big on optimizing the time spent in the kitchen, cleaning up everything before you eat, stuffing all of the used plates and bowls and knives into the sink as they come, wrapping up the vegetables in the thin plastic bags that they came in and putting them back into the fridge. Jungkook says it’s because he doesn’t like having to clean the kitchen up after he’s eaten. You think it’s because he thinks you’ll run off and leave him to do all the work. 

You, admittedly, don’t make your own meals very often (or at all), but you can see the appeal. There’s something different about food that you make yourself, food that you turned from ingredients to a meal. Something rewarding. 

Or maybe it’s just because Jungkook did most of the cooking, and he’s got this inexplicable magic touch. 

“Good, right?” He asks when you’re finished, the both of you heading back to the kitchen to wash up the last of your dishes.

“It was okay,” you tease, even though your empty bowl says otherwise. There’s not a drop of soup, a scrap of food left inside of it, just an orange ring around the inside from the kimchi color. 

“Okay, Miss ‘Okay’,” Jungkook says, placing his bowl gently into the sink. “Hand me your thing, I’ll finish washing up.”

“You sure?” You ask. You feel like you’ve contributed absolutely nothing to the making of this dish. Not cooking it, not putting away the ingredients or washing the pot, nothing. The least you could do is clean up a couple of your bowls. Or put them in the dishwasher. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says, hand already latching onto it. “Takes two minutes.”

“Okay,” you tell him, watching the bowls fill with soap as his big hands scrub away the remnants of a very delicious meal. 

You linger in the kitchen. Despite not really having anything else to do, you don’t want to go back to your room, or curl away in some corner of the apartment where Jungkook can’t find you. You’re finally spending time together. Isn’t that what you wanted?

“It was pretty good,” you add on belatedly, when Jungkook is just drying his hands on the dish towel. There’s a precarious stack of dishes, utensils, and pots on the drying rack, like adding one more chopstick will send the whole thing tumbling down, but Jungkook isn’t worried about it at all. Even though he likes cleaning stuff up, he doesn’t like putting it away. 

“Aha!” Jungkook shouts, pointing at you accusingly. “I knew you would like it.”

“You’re a good chef,” you tell him. Maybe kimchi jjigae is the only thing he’s good at making, but rather be a master of one than a jack of all trades but master of none. Though, you have to admit that Jungkook is a master of several trades, none of which you think you could ever do. “You should cook more.”

“I wish,” Jungkook says with a sigh. The two of you have retired to the leather couch, the conversation drifting away from the kitchen and towards the sofas. When he collapses on the cushions, he relaxes, like the feeling is sucking out all of the tension in his body. “Every time I get back from work, I’m so drained and exhausted. I just want to go to sleep.”

“You weren’t tired tonight,” you point out. 

“No,” Jungkook says. The words are distant and faintly register in his mind, almost like the realization has just dawned on him for the first time, “I wasn’t.”

“Is there something else you wanna do?” You ask, not feeling particularly lethargic either. Normally, you’d spend the rest of the night raiding the rest of Jungkook’s amenities, watching old shows on his television or taking a bath until your body looks like a raisin. Something you can do by yourself, something that you’d want to do by yourself to make up for the fact that Jungkook doesn’t ever want to do anything with you. Watching him at work is getting less boring, because you’re actually starting to interact, but at home, you go right back to square one. Or, you did. “Watch a movie, or anything?”

“Nah, I’m alright,” Jungkook shakes his head, scrunching up his nose. You watch him as he chews the inside of his cheek, finger tracing over the scar that’s been left from that night, the night you patched him up. You’re a healer, but some things are meant to leave marks. You almost think that Jungkook is going to up and leave, heave himself off of the floor and spend the rest of the night alone in his bedroom, but then, he turns to you and he asks, “How often do you heal people?”

“I haven’t in a while,” you admit. Not because the opportunity has never presented itself, but you never had anyone to heal. “I used to when I was a kid, a lot. You know, scraped knees and paper cuts.”

“What about you?” Jungkook asks. “Do you have to heal yourself as well?”

“No,” you explain, “healers’ bodies heal by themselves.” It’s why, whenever you get back to your shack after crashing into a tree on the sidewalk that you hadn’t spotted, or stubbed your toe on the leg of a table, or pulled a muscle from stretching too far, you let yourself rest, and your body does the work for you. “But healing isn’t… it isn’t something I do very often. I turn invisible much more.”

“I can tell,” Jungkook muses. “But you’ve been invisible around me so much that it feels like I can still see you.”

“That’s because I’m always in your office when I’m invisible,” you point out. Jungkook knows you’re there because you wouldn’t be anywhere else. Where would you even go, when the whole point is to watch him? “In a place like this, there is no way you would be able to find me.”

“You wanna bet?”

“You know what, yes, I do,” you say, because Jungkook can’t possibly think his human-snuffing skills are as good as yours. Especially when the only person he’s trying to find is invisible. “You think you’re such a hotshot, hmm? Try and find me, then.”

“First floor only,” Jungkook rules. “And, when I do, I get to turn something.”

“Fine,” you agree, only because you know that that’s not going to happen. “One thing. That’s strike two, though.”

“You won’t tell,” Jungkook chides, eyes narrowed. 

“Will I?”

“Twenty seconds!” Jungkook says, already beginning to count down. “Nineteen, eighteen—!”

You turn invisible at once, not wasting a second, scurrying off down one of the hallways. There are plenty of places to hide in Jungkook’s house, from the walk-in closets in every bedroom to the one-foot-tall gap underneath every bed. But you won’t go for one of those, because Jungkook expects you to. He’s going to hunt around his entire house, looking in all of the nooks and crannies, the armoires and cabinets and cubbyholes, because he thinks that that’s where you’ll be hiding. But the truth is that there is no way that Jungkook will be able to find you when he can’t see you, because he doesn’t know what he’ll be looking for. 

So, you pick the second-to-last bedroom down the hall, and you wait. You’d sit down on the mattress, but Jungkook easily be able to spot a dip in the comforter, so you stand, right next to the door, holding your breath. If Jungkook really does think he can sense your presence, or whatever psychic nonsense he’s on about, then he should have no problem finding you. 

You hear Jungkook’s voice echoing down the hallway, a sickly sweet singsong as he walks into every room. 

“Y/N…” He calls out, like a ghost in a horror movie. “Where are you?”

From your angle, you can peer down the corridor, watch as he trickles in and out of each room after five minutes, no doubt searching through every one with both of his arms out, desperate to crash into you. Good thing you’re standing, otherwise Jungkook might accidentally elbow you. Slowly, he makes his way out of the room right before yours, casually walking towards you. You suck in a quick breath, holding yourself perfectly still.

“Are you here?” Jungkook flips his head around the doorframe, a foot away from where you’re standing. He isn’t looking right at you, thank God, otherwise you think you might just burst into laughter. “Hmm, I think you are.”

He begins to walk around the room, one hand tracing over the quilted pattern on the comforter, the other reaching out, grabbing fistfuls of air. He looks like someone’s blocked his vision, wandering around aimlessly as he tries to find something to cling onto. You bite your lip, refusing to laugh and give yourself away as he makes his way into the bathroom, singing your name like a chant, a curse to be laid upon you. When he obviously has no luck, he returns to the bedroom, eyes narrowed, as if that will better help his vision. 

You don’t think you’ve ever held your breath for this long, lungs about to burst, but you can’t let Jungkook find you. There’s more than just your powers on the line, and his reward. There’s your pride, and his massive ego that you refuse to stroke. The fact that he looks absolutely ridiculous is also doing nothing to aid you, but giving yourself up would be a metaphorical death sentence. 

Jungkook has one foot out of the door, already heading towards the last bedroom in the hallway, when you crack. You sputter out a half-breath, this miniscule exhale, and he stops in his tracks, turning around. You freeze up, hoping that maybe Jungkook will just think it was a trick of his own ears. 

“Y/N?” He taunts. He looks around the room again, trying to see if the wind is blowing a different way, if there is something different. He almost doesn’t notice you. 

Almost. 

You turn in shock when Jungkook reaches a hand out, his fingers pinching at your lower torso, shrieking as you practically topple over, Jungkook’s arms the only things that prevent you from diving head first onto the floor. He encases you in his hold as you sink to the floor in defeat, laughing as he follows you, one arm holding your waist as the other wraps around your back. He chuckles to himself while you curl up in shame, desperate not to meet your eyes. Your skin sizzles where his fingers had touched it, like oil in a pan after it’s been taken off of the stove, like the remnants of a flame, embers left to burn into ashes. It feels like your body is on fire. 

“Found you,” Jungkook teases, but it’s soft and sweet and fond. “I told you, I just know.”

“You just heard me breathe,” you defend yourself, because the former is impossible to accept. 

“Whatever you want to say to make yourself feel better.” He grins, cheeky and prideful, making you shove his head away with the palm of your hand. 

“Fine, whatever,” you say, resigning yourself to the fact that you lost this round. “What do you want to turn? The bed frame? The door knob? That really ugly pot in the living room?”

“Hey, that pot isn’t ugly,” Jungkook exclaims. You frown at him. “Okay, it’s only a little bit ugly.”

“For someone with so much money, you sure don’t have the best taste,” you tell him, even though everything else in his house reads expensive like nothing else. That pot is just weirdly out-of-place. “Maybe the gold will make it look better.”

“What’s this?” Jungkook asks, reaching a hand out from behind you to toy at the bracelet on your wrist, this silver chain with a couple of charms dangling from it. It’s rusted beyond belief, from rain, from humidity, from wear, but you refuse to take it off, even when it loses what’s left of its shimmer, even when the silver fades to a scratchy red iron. 

“An old bracelet,” you say, fingers instinctively making to play with it, rubbing away at the metal. “From my mom.”

“You wear it every day,” Jungkook notices. 

“I never take it off,” you say. 

“It’s pretty,” Jungkook tells you, and you know that he isn’t just saying that. That he means it, despite its abysmal condition. The years have not been kind to it, but then again, they haven’t been very kind to you either. “It must be really special.”

“It is.” You shuffle the bracelet around so that all five of the charms are in view. “She would buy a new charm every year for my birthday.”

“I like this one,” Jungkook says, pointing to the milk carton charm. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah…” you trail off. The bracelet isn’t much, but it’s all you have left of a childhood that you had been robbed of. You had to grow up too fast, that you know, but at least this bracelet reminds you that you are never too old for your memories. 

“Can I turn it?” Jungkook asks. It’s as if you can see the words leave his lips, resting in front of you, waiting for your response. 

You turn around to face him, eyes wide. Your hand goes to rest atop the bracelet protectively, the idea of letting someone else touch it almost unfathomable. 

“You can say no,” Jungkook quickly stammers out, face beet red. “It was just—you wear it so much, and it looks like the silver is fading, so I was thinking maybe the gold would… fix it up a bit, or something. Make it look new again. Ignore me, you don’t have to say yes, it was just a suggestion.”

Your fingers drop into your lap as you look at him, expression softening. Here, in this unused guest bedroom, Jungkook looks nervous, lost, stumbling over his own words like he isn’t sure of himself anymore. He looks away from you, eyes already beginning to scan the room for something else to turn instead, doubtful you would even agree to such a wild request. It is your bracelet, after all. Why would he do something like that for you?

“You want to?” You ask him, hopeful and wishing. 

Jungkook nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “I do.”

“Then you can,” you say, holding out your wrist to him, the charms dangling over your laps. “Please.”

Jungkook’s shocked that you even said yes, but he scrambles to twist you around, moving your bodies so you aren’t pressed against each other like two peas squished inside of a pod. In this new position, you’re facing each other, staring right at each other as Jungkook reaches out a tentative hand, delicate fingers padding against your wrist. He breathes, and so do you, because you’ve gotten so used to the way this bracelet has looked, so familiar with every rust and crack and dent, knowing that it has remained unchanged for years. 

But this isn’t a change. It’s a rebirth. It’s something different, something fresh, something to remind you that not all is lost. That old memories can become new once more. 

Slowly, as Jungkook presses soft fingertips against the metal, sparks fly. A golden sheen wraps around the bracelet, inch by inch, leaving behind this unmistakeable shimmer, glinting in the sunlight. You can’t tear your eyes away, watching the magic unfold in real time, the silver vanishing before you. The gold consumes it, erasing all of the rust, the wear and tear, until it looks brand new.

Your mother would have loved it. 

“Is that strike two?” Jungkook asks, a cherry red blush decorating his cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out, not caring if it’s strike two or strike two hundred. Your fingers press against the metal, smooth and shiny, the bumpy texture gone. It must be worth thousands, now. But to you, it is priceless. “It’s beautiful.”

Jungkook nods, and you can distantly feel the weight of his gaze on you. 

“I know,” he says. 

You can’t sleep. 

You’ve slept better here than you have for the past three years of your life. At this point, sleeping on cement would be more comfortable than your bed back at your own house, but here, the soft, plush mattress takes away all of the exhaustion that manifests itself in you throughout the day. Not to mention the fact that for the first time in over a decade, you finally have a normal routine, an internal clock to direct your body, rather than the other way around. There is something soothing in knowing exactly what the next day will bring. Something that doesn’t keep you up with worry.

But tonight, you are wide awake. 

The golden bracelet on your wrist clinks against itself as you sit up, rubbing at the gunk that’s collected in your eyes. You’ve been keenly aware of its existence on your wrist much more in the past several days, ever since Jungkook turned it from its previous faded silver, fingers instinctively toying with it whenever there’s nothing on your mind—and even when there is. 

What you fear most is the fact that you feel as though you are relying on Jungkook to be there more and more, counting on the fact that you know he will be by your side no matter where you are, no matter what you do. You are relying on him to be there, on his house to be there, shaping the way that you run your life based on the belief that at the end of the day, he will be asleep under the same roof as you. 

You pull yourself out of bed. Maybe a night spent alone will remind you of the days where you would watch the moon move across the sky, sitting underneath trees and counting the stars that you can see. Remind you that no matter what, the moon will always be there for you, too. Remind you that this, all of it, is temporary. 

You know that you aren’t allowed to go up to the second floor of Jungkook’s apartment, and that you’ve never been solely because Jungkook requested that you stay downstairs, a promise you have kept throughout the weeks. But there must be some appeal to the rooftop, you think, because Jungkook never comes downstairs whenever he’s having a restless night. Besides, it’s not as if you have any plans to go into his bedroom. 

Softly, you creep upstairs, hand dragging along the golden rail, feet leaving creases in the carpet. The top of the stairs opens up into a general hallway, a dark wooden door undoubtedly leading towards his bedroom, while the walls on the other side turn to glass, leading towards the pool. You tiptoe down the hallway, making sure to avoid making too much noise by Jungkook’s bedroom door, passing by the gym that Jungkook must use all of the time, whenever he’s not around to bother you. The glass door at the end of the hallway must exit out to the pool, so you twist the doorknob and push it open, the cool summer atmosphere hitting you like a breath of fresh air. 

All of the lights are on outside, this soft white that reflects off of the metal railing and the pool water, crashing in waves against the tiled edges. You think it’s just for show, like how people leave their Christmas lights on twenty-four hours a day, visible through their windows, but then you round the corner and see him.

Jungkook sits along the edge of the water, legs swishing around in the pool, as he looks up at the sky. The summer breeze blows through his hair, messy and loose, the way it looks right when he gets out of the shower, before he puts any product into it. Whatever he’s playing with in his hand glints in the lights, that distinctive yellow glow. It must be a coin or something, something small, something to keep his fingers occupied. 

“Are we considering that strike three?”

He whips around when he hears your voice, hears the way the pool water carries it across to him. 

“I thought you promised never to come up here,” he muses back. 

“Then I guess maybe both of us can be forgiven,” you suggest.

You amble over to him, crouching down to dip your feet in as well. You seat yourself along the edge of the pool beside him as the water sloshes around, the sensation sending shivers down your spine despite the humidity in the air. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “My body’s tired but my mind isn’t.”

“What’s that?” You ask, pointing at the coin in his hand. It isn’t a form of currency that you recognize, certainly nothing used here. 

“A family heirloom,” Jungkook tells you, holding it out for you to see. It’s covered in a thin layer of cold but you think that you can make out some sort of crest, an emblem or insignia above the coat of arms. “Apparently it had been stolen from someone of royalty or high status back in the day. My family turned it into gold and made it ten times more valuable.”

“Oh, but I pickpocket a few people and suddenly I get sentenced by the Realm to be a minder, I see how it is,” you joke, rolling your eyes. Your eyes glaze over the crest, tracing the lines of a lion, a spear, a shield. It must mean something to someone, but to you and Jungkook, it could be anything. 

“Hey, but being my minder hasn’t been terrible, has it?” Jungkook asks, mockingly offended. His lips curl down into a pout as he looks at you, a hand on his heart like it’s been punctured by your words.

“It’s…” You begin. You suppose that it hasn’t been terrible. In the beginning, it was positively nightmarish, left you feeling like there was no way you would ever complete your sentence. Now, there’s this weird, hidden part of you that doesn’t want to leave. The part of you that has become attached to this world, this lifestyle. The part of you that relies on there being another person in your life to be with. “It’s not that bad.”

“You know what, I’ll take it.” Jungkook grins. “Even though I know you secretly love me.”

You give Jungkook a shove, pushing him on his side. “You wish.”

He laughs, pulling himself back up off of the cement, knocking his shoulder into yours. “I know that we both kind of didn’t have a choice in any of this,” he tells you, looking up at the stars, watching their faint light, twinkling from millions of light years away. “But I think I really needed you here.”

“Oh, now he admits he needs a minder,” you say sarcastically, flinging your arms out in front of you. 

Jungkook chuckles. “I didn’t realize I turned so much until you forced me to stop cold turkey.”

You nod. The truth is, you can’t blame Jungkook for his turning habits. You can’t blame him for living the way that he lives, when it’s the only thing he’s ever known. When the two most important adults in his life turn like wildfire, when they taught him everything he knows. But Jungkook is his own person, now, not a product of his parents, anymore. He has his own choices to make. He can become whoever he wants to be. 

He has become someone he wants to be. 

Jungkook’s magic habits aren’t any fault of his own as much as yours aren’t, either. They were born out of ignorance, out of necessity. Out of the fact that neither of you have ever known a world where you didn’t have powers, where you didn’t feel as though you needed to use them. You couldn’t imagine not having your magic. You know that Jungkook feels the same. 

“Why did you?” It’s as if the words don’t even belong to you. Like someone else has spoken them—the moon, the sky, the stars. 

Jungkook purses his lips, and sighs. “It was all I had ever known.”

Jungkook grew up drunk on his powers. You wonder if he’s sobered up now. 

(You wonder if you had anything to do with it.)

“When I was little, my parents gave me that whole ‘you’re different, and that makes you special’ talk. They told me that my powers were valuable. A gift. And that people with gifts like mine must never waste them. That if we had been given this magic, we ought to use it, right? So that’s what I did. God, every day I would turn a new toy gold, and then I would get another one to replace it, and I would turn that one gold, too. My parents probably sold that to our banks, another hundred thousand dollars into their pockets,” Jungkook says, forcing out a laugh at the memory. The thought is rather endearing, when you think about it. Little Jungkook turning a stuffed bear gold, crying when it isn’t soft and fuzzy anymore. 

“And my parents encouraged me. They told me that I was doing the right thing, that I wasn’t letting my gift go to waste. You saw them that evening that they came over. They were turning things gold left and right. Things that I had wanted to stay their natural material. Like that bowl for my keys. Do you know how easily gold is scratched?” He exclaims, gesturing frantically in front of him. “I purposefully kept that as the clay it was made out of. And now it’s gold.”

“A modern day crisis,” you joke. 

“I guess…” Jungkook begins, but the words trail off and he pauses, almost like nothing he says will be correct. “I guess I just never knew the difference between not wanting my magic to be in vain, and not wanting to ever stop using it. Like you. You only heal when you need to. And even then, you don’t treat it like this precious gift. You treat it like something you owe to others.”

“That’s because without other people to heal, my power is useless,” you explain. Being able to heal others has no direct benefit for you. It doesn’t make you stronger, or faster, or better. It is a gift that is meant to be shared. “It’s different.”

“Every time I turn something, I feel like shit afterwards,” Jungkook admits to you. “Like I’ve turned so many things, that I don’t have the right to do it anymore. Like I’ve exhausted my magic.”

“You feel guilty,” you explain to him, resting a hand on top of his own, his fingers losing their grip on the coin he’s been tossing between them. “And that’s okay,” you tell him, meeting his eyes with your own. “Your parents are right—what you have, this power that you possess, it is a gift. It has made your life better in a way that nothing else could. But your fear of letting it go to waste, of not truly appreciating it for what it is, is a two-way street.”

Jungkook blinks at you, petal pink lips parted ever so slightly. 

“Wasting a gift by never using it is the same as wasting it by overusing it, because it loses its specialness. When you turn things now, it doesn’t feel amazing or blessed or exciting, because it’s lost the ability to feel like that for you. It’s almost second-nature, at this point,” you say.

“Then what do I do?” He asks, feeling helpless. “How do I make it feel special again?”

You squeeze his hand in your own, making him look up at you, the pool water reflected in his big brown eyes, like a warm chocolate ocean. “You only use it on things that make you feel like a better person.” Things that make Jungkook feel special, as opposed to things that make his magic feel special. “Not just things that will put more money in your bank account, or things that will make your house decor nicer. Things that you really, truly care about.”

Jungkook’s eyes glance downward at something, but he nods. He breathes out this exhale, this heavy sort of breath, like he’s trying to reteach himself the things that make him tick. Things like alphabetized books, and homemade kimchi stew. 

“Gifts like that only come once in a lifetime,” you say. “Remarkable things don’t happen to us all the time.” You know this, because it’s true. Because you’ve lived it.

Because in another life, in another universe, there is a you who can’t turn invisible, can’t heal people, and there is a Jungkook, too, one who can’t turn whatever he pleases into gold. And they would live their whole lives not knowing what it would be like to have these powers, to ease their way of life. And they would never meet each other, either. Too busy trapped on opposite sides of the world, too busy to worry about anybody but themselves. 

“So we have to learn to treasure them.” It feels as though you’re drowning in him. Like you’re floundering, barely staying afloat. “We have to make sure that they always feel special to us.”

You curl your hand around his own, lacing your fingers together as your palms rest against each other’s. You watch as his gaze drifts down to where your hands are interlocked, a bridge between the two of you, a lifeline that connects the two lives you had lived without each other in them. 

“Do you understand?” You ask. You can see the words as they appear, watch as they linger in between the two of you, hot summer breaths on a cool summer night. 

He squeezes your hands together, and he smiles, warm and round and real. He looks at you, and he is there, he is sitting by your side. And he is beautiful and extraordinary and remarkable. And he says, “I’m starting to.”

You wake up the next morning to find a shimmering piece of parchment sitting on the dresser in your bedroom. 

As declared by the Realm, its leaders, and its government, it reads, 

The recipient, Y/N, has successfully completed her sentence of community service as mandated by the courts. She no longer needs to serve as the minder to Jeon Jungkook, and may return to her former residence. 

Though the sentence has been carried out, The Realm, its leaders, and its government, reserves the right to re-charge the recipient for the crimes for which she had been originally tried should she commit them again. Should this instance occur, the option for community service will not be available. 

We thank you for your service.

Oh. 

Already? 

It feels like you just started. Like it was only yesterday that you stormed up to the front door of Jungkook’s penthouse, watched as he crumpled up the parchment and tossed it into the bin. Like it was only yesterday you reappeared at his office, this time with a declaration that won’t be so easily destroyed. 

You wonder why this one is all sparkly as well. 

You don’t know exactly what prompted the end of your sentence, what duties you had somehow fulfilled to earn you your freedom. What is the Realm searching for? What data are they using to determine whether or not you have met your goal? It certainly couldn’t have just been the fact that Jungkook hasn’t turned in a while. Not turning is not the same as not wanting to turn. 

So what changed?

You stare down at the parchment, each word leaving you more confused than the word before it. 

It isn’t over already, is it?

Knowing that you are now free to return back to your own house means that your worst fear has been realized. You don’t want to. 

You want to stay here, in Jungkook’s massive penthouse, relishing in the glory and wealth that comes alongside it. You want his chef to make pre-made meals for you and the extra kimchi stew he keeps in the fridge. You want Jungkook’s five thousand different streaming services and enough books to last you several lifetimes. You want the sense of normalcy that staying here has given you, the regular routine that you have so effortlessly fallen into. You want the late-night pool chats and rounds of hide-and-seek. 

Why would you want to give up all that you have?

“You want fried or poached eggs?” Jungkook knocks on your closed bedroom door, tapping softly with his knuckles, already awake and ready to make breakfast. 

“Either,” you tell him, glaring down at the parchment with furrowed brows. You’re too afraid to touch it, too afraid to even look at it any closer. Because that will make it real. 

“Alright,” Jungkook calls. “It’ll be ready in ten! Got freshly-squeezed orange juice too!” You can hear his footsteps as he heads back down the corridor, the thump, thump, thump of his fuzzy slippers against the hardwood floor. 

“Coming,” you say weakly, too focused on the glowing paper on the dresser. 

 Just because you can go back to your house doesn’t mean you have to. Just because you can go back to your old life, doesn’t mean you have to. 

You grab the paper and stuff it in an old tote bag, covering it with old clothes, memories of the former world you lived in. Not anymore. 

After all, isn’t this the life you’ve always dreamed of?

Kimchi stew is, as it stands, delicious, but it can’t be the only thing that the two of you ever cook together. 

Jungkook does all of the grocery shopping, mostly because the both of you know that if you went out to the store with a list of ingredients, you would be lost for days searching for them. So when he returns home with three tote bags filled with ingredients, your mouth already starts to water. 

“What are we making today, chef?” You ask, bounding into the kitchen as Jungkook begins to unpack. 

“Another Korean recipe,” Jungkook says happily, pulling out a bright yellow pack of thin grey noodles. “Japchae!”

“Sounds delicious,” you say, though at this point he could make you microwave mac-and-cheese and you’d snarf it down like nothing else.

“You bet it is.” Jungkook grins, slowly dumping out the rest of the contents of the bags. They are filled to the brim with vegetables and seasonings, peppers and zucchini and everything in between, the makings of a colorful little homemade dish. 

Jungkook seems to be making more time to actually cook things these days, fishing through the cabinets regularly to see what meals he can make with all of the ingredients in his kitchen. The chef only comes once every two weeks now, and usually brings with him any groceries that Jungkook has personally requested. He’ll ask you what you think of a new recipe that he wants to try, showing you the guide on his laptop screen, writing down whatever he needs to buy from the store. 

And you thought that the chef’s meals were appetizing. 

“Have you ever thought of meal-prepping?” You ask as Jungkook sets the noodles in a pot of boiling water, turning the heat on high. 

“Why?” Jungkook says. 

“I don’t know,” you tell him, washing the red pepper underneath the faucet, cutting board and knife ready and waiting on the counter. “So you don’t have to go through the process of cutting everything up and sauteing it, or whatever.”

Jungkook turns around, shakes his head. “No. Half the fun of cooking is making it.”

“But you could save yourself a lot of time when you come back from work,” you point out. Jungkook’s always so exhausted by the time he walks through the front door, keys scratching the golden bowl on the table on the way in. 

“But then we wouldn’t get to cook together,” he says like it’s obvious, like it’s the thing that he thinks about the most when he comes back home. The two of you, filling up his kitchen, leaving oil stains on the countertops and burnt vegetables at the bottom of the pans. The scent of spices, of onions, of sizzling vegetables wafting through the air. 

Another person to fill up this barren house. 

You never eat in the dining room, because two people still isn’t enough to make that room feel like it’s full, like there are people that regularly use it. But now, there are grease stains on the leather of Jungkook’s couch, and a little bit of ketchup on the rug that he doesn’t know about, reminders that just because Jungkook’s house is big doesn’t mean it has to be empty as well. 

“I’m a horrible chef,” you say, because you’re not quite sure what else to tell him. Up until a few weeks ago, you had never cut up an onion in your life. Things in the kitchen that take Jungkook five minutes to do take you twenty. You certainly aren’t any help, not when Jungkook has to pause whatever he’s doing to teach you something that you should already know. So what’s the appeal?

“You’re not that bad,” Jungkook assures you gently. “You just need to do it more.”

“Oh, so is that your mission? You don’t meal-prep because you want me to learn how to make my own food?” You ask, rounding on him. 

“You got me.” He grins guiltily, pinching the part of your waist where he knows you’re the most ticklish, making you laugh as you turn invisible for a moment, a sort of gut reaction whenever you’re sensitive. “And because I like cooking with you.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “It must be my infectious personality, right?”

“That, and teaching you how to cook stuff is fun.” Jungkook smiles, reaching out as he begins to chop vegetables beside you. Standing here, in the middle of his kitchen, you wonder if this is how life is supposed to be. Someone you can cook with, someone you can eat with. Someone who will teach you the things that you don’t know, who will help you master the things that you do. Someone who doesn’t care where you came from, only that you’re here now, that you are right beside him. 

Homemade meals make your insides warm and fuzzy, but having someone to spend the night with makes your heart feel comforted. Makes it feel like it’s been wrapped in a blanket, cradled in someone’s hands. 

“What happens when I learn everything?” You ask. “What will you do then?”

Eventually, this routine must come to an end. Eventually, there will be nothing left for him to teach you, nothing left for you to learn. You know that your days are numbered, that there is only so much time that the two of you can spend together. What will happen when you reach the last day? When there will be no tomorrow for you to rely on?

Jungkook must know that you can’t stay here forever, even if the two of you try to keep it that way. But he doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “Then, I’ll find something new to teach you.”

This arrangement has always been temporary. 

But for a moment, just a moment, an echo in time, he makes you believe otherwise. 

There’s a golden glint on your chest of drawers when you walk into the room, the glare flashing in your eyes as the sun hits it. 

You, admittedly, don’t go into your room very often, usually only to do the thing that bedrooms, at their most basic level, were meant to do: sleep. But Jungkook retired early to his room tonight, citing some ridiculous reason like he hadn’t worked out enough this week, and everything in the house suddenly becomes less inviting whenever he’s not around. 

When you step closer, you can see it. See the thin chain that rests on the dresser, the key that hangs from it, a similar size to the charms on your bracelet. The gold is faded, shine erased, leaving behind this gentle matte texture, smooth but worn. It’s much more vintage than the sorts of things you would find in jewelry stores today—bright, sparkly necklaces and shiny, lustrous rings. It was made to look old, to look worn. It probably is.  

There’s a little note next to the necklace, a torn piece of paper from a notepad, the edges rough and uneven. 

To Y/N,

Found this in my mother’s old jewelry that she always leaves here when she decides it’s not her style anymore. Didn’t really think of anybody else that would make good use of it like you. I think it’ll match your bracelet well! I hope you like it.

Jungkook

You smile as you read the words, take in this meaningful little gesture that Jungkook has done for you. The bracelet from your mother has always been your most prized possession, but with its new golden makeover, it reminds you that you don’t always have to look to your past to be happy. That what you have, right here, right now, is enough. Now, your mother’s charm bracelet has a matching partner. 

Standing in front of the mirror, you put the necklace on, fingers craning to attach the clasp to the chain, metal slipping from your grip. After a bit of a battle, you finally manage to connect the two ends, letting the key hang low past your collarbones, the gold resting gently against your skin. It doesn’t match your bracelet perfectly, but the two aren’t so much a matching set as they are a pair, two pieces that are meant to complement each other rather than complete. 

You seriously doubt that Jungkook’s already asleep. 

Sneaking up the stairs to the second story, you see that the door to Jungkook’s bedroom is wide open, revealing a little glimpse into the room he spends so much time in. It’s dark, empty, a signal that Jungkook is elsewhere on this floor. You don’t spend too much effort peering into Jungkook’s bedroom, not when it feels like you’re invading his space, his privacy. He’s already given up so much of his home for you. He deserves to keep his bedroom his own.

He’s not in the gym, you determine as you pass by, which means that there really is only one other place he could be found. 

You push open the door to the rooftop, rounding the corner to the deck to find Jungkook doing laps in the pool, wearing nothing but his swimming trunks. The water sloshes around his body as he swims back and forth, kicking up splashes as he goes. You watch for a few moments as he works out, not wanting to interrupt him he burns away the calories in his body. This is the closest you’ve ever come to seeing Jungkook undressed, but you don’t really mind. At least he’s got shorts on. 

When he stops, he stands up in the pool, sopping wet hands running through sopping wet hair, strands that frame the sides of his face, make his hair look longer than it actually is. He wipes away the water on his face, blinking the chlorine from his eyes, when he spots you. 

“What are you doing up here?” He asks, not even caring to fight away the grin that has laced itself on his features. 

“Came to say thank you,” you tell him, fingers toying with the key around your neck. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to,” Jungkook says honestly. “Besides, my mother was never going to come back to get it, so I figured that it should go to someone who will actually wear it.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say, slowly sitting down along the edge of the pool, letting your legs dip into the water. Jungkook makes his way over to you, water splashing at his torso as he walks through the pool to stand before you. “Was it always gold?”

“It was, yes,” Jungkook says with a nod. “My mom liked to turn a lot of things, but she preferred her jewelry to be naturally gold. That’s why it’s pretty faded.”

“It looks nicer this way,” you say. “Shiny gold looks cheap.”

“Spend a couple of months in a mansion and suddenly you think gold looks cheap?” Jungkook jokes. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Can’t help that I’ve got an eye for nice things,” you tease, looking Jungkook up and down just to be dramatic. You have to admit that he’s got a rather attractive figure, fit, built, toned. You would be lying to yourself if you said that you weren’t eyeing him at least a little bit. 

Jungkook pretends that he isn’t paying attention to the fact that you are blatantly ogling his body and laughs. “You swim?”

“I learned when I was little,” you tell him. “But I haven’t done it in a long time.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Jungkook says with a disapproving shake of his head. 

“What? I like being dry,” you say, hands on your hips as you defend yourself. Besides, when you were little, swimming always meant showering afterwards, which sucked because then you had to waste water just to clean yourself of other water. Your mother always said that being able to swim would carry you far in life, would be an invaluable skill. You haven’t swum since she died. 

“But, you wouldn’t mind if I… oh, never mind,” Jungkook dismisses, being purposefully vague just to capture your attention. 

“What?” You demand. 

“If I…” Jungkook begins, leaning back down in the pool until all but his head is submerged. He floats towards you, paddling until he’s right beneath your feet. “Did this—?”

Without a second of warning, Jungkook’s wet hands are grabbing onto your ankle, pulling you and your fully-clothed-self into the water with a splash, making you shriek as you feel your skin freeze up at the cold temperature. Luckily, it’s shallow enough here that you can stand rather easily, but now you’re soaked from head to toe, sopping fabric sticking to your figure.

You come up from beneath the water, positively accosted, hands wiping across your face as you clear your eyes so that they can narrow in on your target. “Okay, that was uncalled for,” you say, splashing Jungkook furiously, even as the two of you fight off the laughter that is bubbling up from your throats. 

“Oh, but it’s such a nice night for swimming,” Jungkook grins devilishly, that cheeky sort of look reserved for when he knows he’s being a nuisance. 

“Maybe for you!” You say, punctuating every word with a splash. Jungkook takes them all in good fun, accepting his punishment for pulling you into the pool. “I’ve been betrayed.”

“Admit it,” Jungkook coaxes, “you love me.”

You refuse.

When the rage has died down and the water begins to feel less like an icy death trap and more like a pleasant dip, you and Jungkook paddle around each other, swimming in circles like two fish in a school. Looking up, it is a nice night, clear skies as a crescent moon hangs above your heads. There are seldom any stars in the middle of the city, but the especially bright ones still shine, flickers of white in an otherwise deep blue ocean. You wonder how many times Jungkook has come out here, spent the night underneath the sky when he cannot sleep away the hours in bed. 

You wonder how many times you missed the opportunity to spend the night with him. 

“I sort of wish that we could stay like this forever, don’t you?” Jungkook asks, the two of you floating on top of the water like light against the sea. 

There’s a lot of things in your life that you wish would never change. This is just another bullet point added to the list. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, because out there somewhere is a timer, counting down the moments until you have to say goodbye. “I do.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” you say, looking at Jungkook. 

He sits across from you in the booth, face lit up in a warm yellow from the rustic exposed light bulb above your heads, this soft, homey glow to his features, sharp jawline but rounded cheeks. He’s cleaned up well, in a different way than how he gets ready for work, when he has to make sure his collars are crisp and his hair is sleek and straight. Here, his dark brown hair is bouncy, loose, like he had blown it out after jumping out of the shower and then immediately ran his hand through it a couple of times to mess it up. He wears a plain button down, nothing fancy or chic, no tie, no suit jacket. The beauty of how he looks is that it’s so simple, so timeless, like he doesn’t need to put any effort into how he looks because he is just naturally perfect. Like the cover of a magazine. Like a sculpture come to life. 

“I wanted to,” Jungkook says happily, fork twirling around the pasta in the dish in front of him. “We can’t just eat premade meals and leftover Korean food forever.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain if we did…” You reason, because you’ve been better fed in the few months you’ve lived with Jungkook than in the years you have spent on your own. Not to mention the fact that everything Jungkook makes tastes eons better than the meals the professional chef whips up, for some odd reason. “But you’re right, a night out is fun.”

“Sometimes food tastes better when you don’t make it yourself,” Jungkook points out, motioning to the dishes before you, these high-class servings of fish and pasta and vegetables that look like they belong on a cooking show rather than on the table in front of you. You and Jungkook may have mastered (or at least… gotten better at) cooking, but presentation is a whole other battlefield. Besides, it’s all going to the same place, so why bother?

“Mmm,” you murmur in agreement, savoring the flavor of the meal in front of you. A year ago you wouldn’t have dared step foot in a restaurant like this one, would have probably gotten kicked out after you walked through the door, so being here feels like a real treat. One that you think you could definitely get used to. 

“Thanks, by the way,” Jungkook pipes up, as if suddenly remembering something. 

“For what?”

“For your idea about the investment management,” Jungkook says, sending the both of you back to that day in his office, where Jungkook was on the verge of flipping his desk over because he couldn’t figure out a solution. 

“Oh, is it working out?” You ask, curious to know if your suggestion is truly paying off or if you just had too much faith in the goodness of humanity. 

“It is.” Jungkook nods happily. He seems very proud of himself. “It was slow going at first, because a lot of clients were starting to wonder why we weren’t investing in other stocks that would guarantee us a higher payout, but then they saw where the money was going. We aren’t bigger than our rival companies, but this levelled the playing field.”

“I’m glad,” you say, because it’s one thing for Jungkook to tell you you had a good idea, and it’s another for him to actually implement it. “That makes me happy to hear.”

“You’re not as bad at business or economics as you think you are, Y/N,” Jungkook informs you, waving around a nonchalant hand. “All they are is an in-depth study of human nature. Some economists assume that everyone in the world is selfish and cares only about themselves, but you’re different. You see the good in everyone, you believe that people can be honest, and selfless, and giving.”

Like Jungkook. 

Like Jungkook, who has given up his home, his work, his life just to deal with another person hovering around him. Who gifts you gorgeous pieces of jewelry and takes you out to fancy meals, who lets you screw up a recipe in the kitchen and obligingly eats peppers that have been charred beyond recognition. Who is so much more honest, so much more selfless, so much more giving, than you could ever be, sticking around because to not do so would cost you your freedom, because you would rather stay here than be anywhere else. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do when you’re gone,” Jungkook says, cracking this weak, terrible smile. He shakes his head as if to banish the thought from his mind, to exist only in this very moment, choosing to ignore both the past and the future. “I think I’m starting to rely on you being there.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, distantly. Something weighs heavy on your chest, pressing your heart down, slowing its temperate rhythm. The truth is that your heart stopped a long time ago, it stopped when you realized that there’s more to Jungkook that you want to know, when you realized that you can’t bear to imagine a life different than the one that the two of you share, no matter how temporary it is. But this weight, this burden on you, it serves as nothing but a reminder that without Jungkook, your heart cannot count in time. “Me too.”

You return home with plastic tupperwares in your hands, leftovers from the enormous meal that the two of you couldn’t have finished even if you tried. Jungkook takes the container from your hands as you excuse yourself to the bathroom, desperate to wash away the thoughts that rest heavy in your heart, cleanse yourself of the lies you can’t seem to stop telling. There’s this naive part of you that thinks, when you wash off the makeup, change back into your raggedy old clothes, all of the secrets you carry with you will vanish as well. 

You know you’ll have to come clean eventually. Eventually, Jungkook will get suspicious as to why you’ve hung around so long even though he is no longer turning. He’ll begin to wonder why you haven’t dashed out of the penthouse you once used to disparage, desperate to return to your old life, where you didn’t have to know him the way that you do now. When you didn’t feel like there was something else trapping you here. 

When all is said and done, though, it feels like here is where you were always meant to end up. 

You head back out into the living room, ready to settle down and wrap up the night by watching a movie or something, when you see Jungkook standing by the couch, your old tote bag sitting on the cushions from a laundry trip earlier today, a shimmering piece of parchment in his hands. 

“Jungkook—”

“How long?” He asks, voice cracking. He’s clenching the paper so hard that his knuckles are turning white, like he can’t believe the words that he’s reading. “How long have you been free to go?”

“Listen, I can explain—”

“A week? A month? When were you going to tell me?” He pleads. When you can’t even muster up the dignity to look at him, he shouts. “When?”

“A month,” you tell him weakly, desperately. 

“A month? You’ve been staying here for a month when you didn’t even need to?” He asks, and he isn’t angry, or furious, or full of rage. He looks helpless, like there is no longer light behind his eyes, twinkles in his irises. Like he’s in pain, like he’s hurt. Exposed, his walls broken down and nothing left to repair them. “When were you going to tell me? Were you ever going to say anything?”

“Yes, Jungkook, but I—”

“All this time,” he says, more to himself than to you, like he can’t believe how foolish he’s been. “All this time you’ve been using me? Using my money?”

“No, Jungkook, it’s not like that.” You are desperate, desperate to salvage what you can from this broken arrangement, desperate to start anew. 

“Then what is it like?” He demands. “If you weren’t using me for my house, or my money, or my personal chef, then what is it? What did you want from me that you couldn’t get on your own?”

You stop. Why did you stay? Normalcy? Opportunity? Company? All things that you never dreamed of having in a million years. And while being with Jungkook did provide you with all three, none of them feel quite right.

“I don’t know, I just—” You begin, scrambling for the right words and feeling like nothing you say will be correct. “I didn’t want to go back just yet.” It’s a pitiful excuse. 

“So you just decided to stay? To play along with me, with all of the things that I was doing with you, for you?” Jungkook shakes where he stands in front of you, blindsided. “Let me teach you how to cook and give you expensive jewelry and take you out to fancy dinners? Just for fun?”

“I never asked for you to do those things for me,” you remind him firmly. It’s not like you were scrounging for money from his pockets, selling insignificant gold sculptures on the black market to buff up your empty bank account. “You wanted to.”

“Because I thought we had something special, Y/N,” Jungkook admits helplessly, collapsing back on the couch. “I did those things because I felt it, Y/N. What you were talking about, that night at the pool, where you saw me sitting at the edge of the water. I felt it. With you,” he begs, hopeless and anguished. “I didn’t understand what it meant to make the magic feel special again until I did it for you. I turned your bracelet and it made me feel like I had something to give to others.”

“You know that that’s not what I meant,” you say, shaking your head. “I was talking about your gift, not us.”

“Aren’t they all the same, though? Magic? Powers? Love? Don’t they all make us feel like we have something special beneath our fingertips?” He asks, to you, to himself, to the moon and the stars, searching for an answer that none of you can give him. 

“Love? You don’t mean that,” you say, refusing to admit it. You have no explanation as to why Jungkook did the things he did, just as much as you don’t have an explanation as to why you did the things you did. They just happened. 

“I thought we had something,” Jungkook admits sadly, unable to even bring his head up to look at you, at the tears that are welling in your eyes, the ones you refuse to let fall. “And I thought the reason that you wanted to do all of those things with me was because you felt it, too.”

“Jungkook, you know that—”

“What?” He erupts. “What do I know? I know that you’ve been using me all of this time, that you did those things with me because you were getting freebies out of it. I know that I was foolish and—and stupid to think that maybe it was because you were falling in love with me just like I was falling in love with you.”

“Jungkook…” You reach out a trembling hand, wanting to feel the warmth of his body once more, the weight of his head in your palm. 

“Don’t,” he says, swatting it away and standing up. “I get it, Y/N. I was stupid and I thought that we had something, when we don’t.” He turns back to look at you, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get the image out of your head, the sight of him, broken and beaten and empty, a shell of the beautiful, vibrant man you had become so attached to. “There’s nothing left for you here. Your services are no longer required.”

He disappears down the hallway, leaving you with nothing but a tote bag, a necklace, and a bracelet left for you to remember him. 

When you step into your house for the first time in months, it feels even less inviting than it normally does. Which is, as far as you’re concerned, rather impressive, considering you’ve always dreaded coming back regardless of what happened throughout the day. 

But now, you can name no place you would rather not be than in this graffiti-laden house, a dangling light bulb above the back entrance and dirt and dust all along the walls. You’ve never had time to fix up this place and make it look even the slightest bit presentable, never had the money to paint over the walls and get rid of the big red X on the front door. Day in and day out, this would just be a place where you could sleep, a mattress on the floor and Campbell’s soups on the cracked kitchen counters. The first thing you’d do every morning is get out. The last thing you’d want to do every night is come back. 

No place has felt like home in a long time. Not since your mother died, when you lost how her smile would light up a room, how she would spin you in circles and kiss your forehead when you got scared that you were going too fast. You had almost forgotten what it meant to have a home, to have a place that felt sacred, like coming home to a warm hug and a steaming cup of tea. To have a place that you didn’t dread returning to, a place that you could gladly waste away in. 

The bracelet that dangles from your wrist is the closest thing that you have left to the feeling of home, of comfort and warmth and solace, of something that makes you feel truly happy. But now, the bracelet has been tinted with the memories of another, of the only other person you can think of that has brought you that same feeling of joy, of these rose-stained memories that rest deep within your heart’s attic. They have always been there, hidden, buried beneath the bad, but when there is nothing left they surface. To remind you of what good life can bring you. 

To remind you of the magic inside you. 

You hate living here. And for a time, you hated living with Jungkook, too. Hated how extravagant his house was, hated how he refused to even speak to you. How there were so many unused rooms, so many empty spaces. But what changed, there, and what hasn’t changed, here, is how people, and not things, are what fill up rooms. 

Living with Jungkook made you feel like coming back after a long day was worth it. Planted the knowledge inside you that you would always have him there, could always rely on another’s presence within the apartment. He’s only one person, but he fills up the room like nothing else, lights it up like New Year’s Eve. He’s funny, and witty, and gorgeous. He’s caring and honest and cheeky, just cocky enough for it to be charming as opposed to egotistical. He cooks like nothing else and spends his sleepless nights beneath the stars, looking at the same moon and sky as everyone else. 

You don’t hate living here because it’s shit. You hate living here because it’s lonely. 

There was a space in your heart that you didn’t even realize was empty. It had been overtaken by the part of you determined to make it to the next day, determined to stick it to the Realm, to its leaders, to all of the people that look down on you because you aren’t made of money. 

But when you left Jungkook’s house, you realized that that space had slowly been filled up with him. That over time, bit by bit, moment by moment, Jungkook returned what you had lost, revived what you thought had long been dead. 

The truth is that you wanted to stay with Jungkook because you couldn’t stomach the thought of being alone again. Of being forced to fend for yourself, forced to come home to an empty house with no one to waste away the night with. Of being forced to live like every day is a threat rather than a gift. 

Jungkook has magic in his fingertips and his heart. It was only a matter of time before it spread to you as well. 

Being hurt by someone you love feels like an arrow to the chest. Like a puncture wound, deep and piercing, but too painful to even want to pull it out, patch up the hole. You had already experienced it once. You didn’t have any plans on experiencing it again. 

But losing the opportunity to love someone feels like an ache throughout your whole body, this crippling sort of pain that spreads through your bloodstream, setting every organ it passes on fire. It feels like there is something tearing you apart from the inside out, like every piece of you is slowly crumbling. 

Jungkook’s biggest mistake wasn't falling in love with you. It was thinking that you were still falling in love with him, when the truth is, you had already fallen. It was letting you leave when both of you wanted nothing more than for you to stay. 

Loving someone is a gamble. It’s a risk, a toe in the water, a spark from your fingers. 

But not loving someone? That is magic, wasted. 

Who knew twenty dollars could get you one large pizza and extra garlic rolls? Certainly not you. 

The smell wafts through the hallway to Jungkook’s apartment, filling it with the scent of warm, fresh bread, of a hot meal waiting to be devoured. If you don’t knock soon, the pizza will go cold and you’ll probably eat all of it before you can even say hello to him. You have more food in your hands now than you have the past week you’ve been back at your old place. 

You ring the doorbell. 

 “Coming!” Jungkook shouts. Oh, is he expecting someone?

Ten seconds later the door opens to reveal someone you hardly even recognize. Gone are the soft loose strands of hair and oversized button down shirts. Jungkook opens the door still wearing his suit jacket, tie tight around his neck, like he hasn’t bothered to change since he got home from work over two hours ago. His hair is sleek and straight, a little shorter than you last remember it. He looks the way he did when you first met him, this rigid, workaholic guy that doesn’t care about anybody except himself. He looks like he’s done nothing but work for a week. Not even sleep. 

“Hi,” you begin, a short, quick intake of breath. “Did you order a pizza?”

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head, already starting to close the door. “I think you have the wrong apartment.”

“Wait, Jungkook, please? I need to talk to you,” you plead, a hand going out to stop him from shutting you out completely. All that you can see through the crack of space between the door and its frame are his piercing brown eyes, absolutely unreadable. He doesn’t budge. “Also, did you just get back from work? You must be starving. And as it so happens, I have an entire large pizza that I won’t be able to finish all by myself.”

Jungkook budges a little bit. 

“Please?”

“Fine,” he says reluctantly, opening the door. “I hope you aren’t planning on staying here too long, this time.”

The words are biting cold, send angry shivers down your spine. 

“Just enough for you to hear me out,” you say, placing the pizza box on the coffee table as Jungkook rummages through his kitchen for plates. He eventually manifests two paper ones—you didn’t even know he had those!—and returns, taking a seat on the carpet as he inhales the cheesy, greasy scent. 

Your stomach grumbles, but you can’t eat just yet. First, you have to explain yourself. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Jungkook asks, cold and distant, the same way he spoke to all of his employees before you encouraged him to do otherwise. “If it’s about my company, we can compensate you as necessary for your contribution. It won’t be much, though.”

“No, no, it’s not about that,” you say with a shake of your head. “It’s about us.”

“What ‘us’ is there to talk about?” He asks economically. 

“The ‘us’ that I left behind that day,” you say softly, a gentle reminder. “The ‘us’ I should have realized existed before I let the door shut behind me.”

“If you’re just here to tell me that you’re sorry for not loving me back, don’t,” Jungkook says bitterly. “I don’t expect you to love me back or anything. You can’t change how you feel about people.”

“You still love me?” You ask, a spark, a flash, a ray of light. 

Jungkook grumbles. “Yes. It doesn’t go away that easily.” 

“You aren’t stupid, or foolish, or idiotic for thinking that I was falling in love with you at the same time that you were falling in love with me,” you tell him, the words light and airy, like weights plucked off of your chest, like butterflies released from a jar. “You were stupid for thinking that I wasn’t already in love with you.”

Jungkook’s head jerks up, eyes blinking wildly. You can see the way that they glisten, with hope, with tears, with desperation. With the possibility that not all is lost. 

That old memories can become new once more. 

“You were right,” you muse, more to yourself than to anyone else. Even Jungkook. “Magic, powers, love, they’re all the same thing. They are meant to be treasured. Cherished. Protected. They are meant to make us feel special.” You breathe, reaching out next to you, an open hand for Jungkook to take. “But most importantly, they are meant to be shared.”

A small smile. A lip half-turned up, this gentle little grin. 

“I stayed because I wanted to keep sharing my life with you, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him honestly, because it’s real and it’s true. Because, at this point, you can imagine nothing else. “And I’m here again because I can’t stand living without you anymore. I never want to stop sharing my life with you.”

“You make me feel like my heart is made of magic,” Jungkook admits, finally, finally, finally. “You make me want to use it just for you.”

“You don’t need to,” you say, pressing yourself into him, letting your lips hover above his own. He reaches a hand out, lets it rest on your waist, waiting desperately for you to close the last inch between the two of you. “You’re already made of it.”

With that, you close the gap, pressing your lips against his, the soft sweet cherry taste of his lip balm filling up your senses, leaving you gasping for air. It’s just a kiss, just a press of lips, this simple gesture, but it takes your breath away nevertheless. It makes you feel like magic swirls inside of you, like your heart is sparking, catching fire, sending it sizzling through your veins. Jungkook has taught you what it means for a house to become a home. You have taught him that magic is only special if he has someone to share it with. 

It’s hard to think about the lessons you would have never learned without the other. 

It’s hard to think about how different life would be, had you never even met. 

Jungkook kisses you and it feels like you’re finally whole. It feels like what has been missing in your life has returned. What you have kept locked up, in the dusty, cobwebbed corners of your heart, in the spaces between your bones, has finally been remembered. 

Jungkook takes your old memories and turns them new. He is the only thing you ever want to remember.

“I love you,” he whispers, watching as the words sink into your skin, leaving embers in their wake. “You are my most precious gift.”

“You are my home, Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur. “I love you, too.”

Pizza is good and all, but nothing beats homemade kimchi stew. 

You made it all by yourself for the first time last night to celebrate Jungkook donating over a million dollars to various different animal rescues and human rights organizations, taking the kindness that he has been given and paying it forward. Besides, he can make money at the touch of a finger whenever he wants, so he might as well, right?

You also don’t accompany Jungkook at his work anymore, because you’ve gotten enough of a taste of office life and have declared it not your ideal profession, but the nice thing about that is getting the whole house to yourself while he’s gone. Not that you want to do very much without him, but napping in different bedrooms is always exciting. 

You never realized how good love makes you feel. How it lifts you up from the inside out, brightens up every day no matter how dull it is to begin with. You had forgotten. What love can do to a person. 

Jungkook always comes home and tells you about how happy his employees make him whenever they’re happy. Good feelings like joy, like laughter, like love, they are contagious. It’s a wonder that neither you nor Jungkook figured that out before you met each other. 

Well, you suppose that there’s a first for everything. 

Jungkook comes home and you can hear the door slam, even from where you’re hiding. You listen as he stops at the door, picks up the note that you left for him. 

Loser washes the dishes! ♡

You hear his keys clink in the bowl, metal on metal. He pauses for a moment, for dramatic effect. 

And then he shouts, 

“You’re on!”

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[lfcology]

swatches | sirius black

summary: you had loved sirius black for longer than you could remember. through two wizarding wars and a harsh time in azkaban: you were head over heels. what happens when he misunderstood your relationship? everyone lives au lowkey as it should be! 

pairing: Fem!Reader x Sirius (post books so they’re slightly older)

word count: 1.6k

warnings: misunderstandings, mention of pregnancy/getting pregnant

*

Two wars. You had survived two wars against the most powerful dark wizard ever and had no inclination to tell your longtime friend you loved him. You'd been head over heels for Sirius Black for the better part of two decades yet opted to keep your feelings to yourself – stating something about the timing not being right. But if not during a war – nay, two wars – when would the time be right? You'd been with other people, trying to get over the raven-haired beauty yet no one ever made you feel anything close to what you did with him.

He'd served years in Azkaban, convicted of some of the most heinous crimes against muggles and the reason behind his best friends death, but you knew he was innocent. Sirius Black was a lot of things but a traitor was not one of them. Now, years later, he was finally free – an innocent man to the world. Once the dark lord was defeated again, and things started to calm down, 12 Grimmauld Place wasn't needed for the order anymore so you insisted on helping Sirius clean it up.

Though you couldn't wash away the painful memories of his childhood, it didn't mean you couldn't try. Harry was old enough to live on his own now but after years apart he and Sirius wanted to catch up on lost time. The first order of business you planned was putting that horrid painting of Mrs. Black in the basement. It took a lot of spells to detach her from the wall but the relief that came across Sirius' face once she was gone was worth it. The two of you worked together tirelessly to bring brightness into the home for the first time since it was built. The Black family tree tapestry was peeled off and replaced with a fresh coat of white paint and a photo wall.

Photos of James, Lily, Marlene and other friends lost over the years lined the wall and memories flooded your senses. There were moments in time captured that reminded you of easier days. Your times at Hogwarts. Your summers at the Potters. You, Sirius and Remus, admired your handy work on the wall. You three had lost so much but the thankfulness you felt to still have each other was beyond you. Sirius wrapped his arm around you and pressed a kiss to your temple. Remus excused himself to spend time with Teddy, leaving you and your love alone. "Should we start clearing out some of the rooms?" You suggested despite not wanting to leave Sirius' side just yet.

He hummed in confirmation before (rather reluctantly) letting you go. The house had been empty and cold for years so in an attempt to revive it Harry, Remus, Tonks and baby Teddy were due to move in. You two started with the guest room that would become a nursery for Teddy. Magic made cleaning much easier but being around Sirius meant more time joking around than actually being productive.

"This whole bloody house smells like dirty boxes." He said with a huff and a wave of his hand to open the window.

The two of you sat for longer than you'd like to admit trying to put a crib together the muggle way. Soon you gave up and used magic, much to Sirius' dismay who insisted "it'll just be 5 more minutes". With a wave of your wand, the walls were coloured a soft sage green compared to the drab mud brown it was before. Things were finally coming together.

"Do you wonder what it's like?" Sirius asked as he set a few toys out onto the shelves.

"What what's like?" You asked from your spot at the bookshelf.

"Being a parent." He clarified.

You shrugged and put down your copy of ABCs with Merlin. "I suppose... I kind of assume I won't have kids. I'm too old now."

"Nonsense!" He replied quickly.

You raised your brows and crossed your arms. "I know you're about to mention something about Moony but shall I remind you he didn't carry the child?" You countered.

"You make it sound like you're ancient." He scoffed. "Don't rule it out, darling."

You let out a laugh and returned to your task of sorting the shelves. "It takes two to have a baby and I don't exactly have a lineup of people wanting to impregnate me.”

"I sure hope not." He said incredulously. "Now, what colour should the walls in the master room be?"

You furrowed your brows. What on earth did he mean by I sure hope not? Instead of letting yourself dwell on it later, you decided to outright ask him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked perplexed. "What? The colour of the master room?"

"No, no... that you sure hope there isn't people lined up for me?" You said crossing your arms a tad defensively.

Sirius, to put things simply, had a habit of being rude sometimes without realizing it. So, you were expecting a backhanded comment about your looks or a joke about how long you've been single. "Well, wouldn't exactly be the best for my odds." He said with a chuckle. "Now, the room colour." He repeated holding the swatches up.

"To hell with the swatches Sirius! What are you talking about!" You all but yelled at him. Was this a joke? Did he find out you were in love with him and decided to subtly tease you about it? How had he even figured it out? You felt yourself going into overdrive. You were going to kill Moony. He had to be the one to tell him after all!

"The swatch is for your room too so it does matter," Sirius said bewildered.

"What?"

"What?" He repeated making you huff. He could be so frustrating sometimes.

"What do you mean my room?"

"Well, it's gonna be our room." He clarified.

You were surprised if that's what you could call it. Sirius thought you were moving in? And sharing a room with him? What on earth was happening? "Sirius, I'm not living here? I thought it was just you, Harry and Moonys family?"

"What? Why? It's meant to be a family home!" He protested with a pout that reminded you of the ones he wore as a student not getting his way with Professor McGonagall.

"We don't have room for me if Teddy has his own room. He'll need one as he grows up." You explained.

"That makes no sense! We would share a room."

"Why the hell would we share a room? We're adults we can't just be dormmates like we're kids." You said and he gave you a disgruntled look. “We've been sharing beds for 20 years why does it matter now?" He rebutted and crossed his arms.

"Don't you want privacy?" You asked.

"For what? We're dating so I don't see why you're being so weird about this."

Now that shocked you.

"DATING?" You shouted and he chuckled softly as he took a step towards you. "Since bloody when?"

"Well, we've had a weird relationship for 20 years I just assumed? Two wars change people." He said and you gaped at him.

"Bloody hell Sirius." You said rubbing your temples. This was not how you expected to find out your feelings were returned. Was this his loneliness speaking? His trauma?

"I'm sorry if I overstepped in thinking that..." He said rubbing the back of his neck and losing his confidence. He became sheepish under your scrutiny. Maybe it wasn't so outlandish of him to assume that. You two did kiss and cuddle a fair bit more than the average friends. But Sirius had always been fond of physical affection with his friends and you chalked it up to that. You honestly never expected him to feel the same way you did.

"I-" You began before swallowing down in an attempt to collect your thoughts. "-You weren't wrong. I just never really thought you'd feel that way about me."

He scoffed. "I've felt that way since we were in 5th year!"

"That makes no bloody sense! You hooked up with half the damn school but didn't look at me." You scoffed back.

"Because I was trying to hide my feelings like a dumb teenage boy! It killed me seeing you all over Peter so I deflected the only way I knew how." He countered. You rolled your eyes. You and Peter had gone out twice before realizing you were better off as friends.

"You don't get to do this Sirius. You can't just say you've liked me for more than 20 damn years and not made a move." You said pointing your finger at him accusingly.

"Need I remind you I was in prison for half of it. And I just asked what colour you want our room to be." He replied with a huff.

You were silent. He wasn't wrong after all but in your overflow of emotions, you chose to place all the blame on him. "I..." You looked down. "I'm sorry. I just always thought I wasn't your type."

He took a step closer and gently held your shoulders. "It's my fault for not letting you know how utterly in love with you I am."

Hearing those words come out of his mouth shot electricity through your body. It was a euphoric feeling you could definitely get used to feeling all the time. You looked up at him and cupped his cheek softly. For the first time, you realized the way you looked at him was the same way he looked at you: with utter love and devotion. You were so worried about not letting your feelings for him spill that you didn't realize you'd been dating the man of your dreams this whole time. The man you'd longed for but thought was unattainable.

"I love you too..." You said through happy tears. "I have for so long."

"Now darling, what colour for our bedroom?" He said with a perfect smirk and a kiss to your temple.

It took two wars but you and Sirius were creating the silly little family you always dreamed of.

*

taglist: @writing-wh0re​

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Gang of Secrets

Well... I'll give this episode one thing. It's better than what we got from both “Truth” and “Lies”, and it did do one of the things I hoped the writers would tackle this season. That's not saying much, but I'll take what I can get.

Let's get into the fourth (chronologically the third) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Gang of Secrets

We start off right after an Akuma battle, and while Cat Noir is eager for their victory fist bump, Ladybug seems to be on edge, insisting that they go on patrol. Cat Noir thinks of a place that they can relax at without talking... and he chooses to take Ladybug to see a romantic comedy.

We're not even a minute in, people, and it already looks like Ladybug is considering using her authority as Guardian to take away Cat Noir's Miraculous.

Ladybug goes on a brief tangent summarizing what happened with Luka (which conveniently happens to reflect the events of the movie), and naturally isn't happy with the movie. Gee, it's almost like Cat Noir's plan was a bad idea. He seriously tries the whole “pretend to yawn as an excuse to put his arm around Ladybug” trick, so you can't tell me he didn't have romantic intentions here.

Why Kagami couldn't accept Adrien's “true self” is beyond me.

After storming out of the movie theater, Cat Noir tries to emphasize with Ladybug (key word being “tries”) by going on about how “he knows what a broken heart is like”. At least he didn't ask if she was single now. Ladybug decides to go for a swim, but we cut back to Marinette's house, with Ladybug in her aqua form, implying she went to the pool while still transformed. And here's a big problem with the episode. In theory, I like the idea of Marinette stressing over her new responsibilities, as it could lead to some interesting plotlines. The problem is that when we get something like that in this episode, it's played entirely for laughs. At one point, Alya mentions hearing Marinette crying in the bathroom because of the stress she's been going through. And instead of being a dramatic scene, she just runs out in some Groucho Marx glasses for some reason, because according to the writers, we're supposed to laugh at Marinette suffering from a potential mental breakdown.

This just raises several questions about the way we're supposed to treat Marinette's behavior in this episode. Are we supposed to take this seriously? Not completely, because of how a lot of the “jokes” in the first act of the episode revolve around Marinette's anxiety being driven up to eleven. Are we supposed to see all of this as a joke? Not completely, because the end of the episode is when the writers decide to take Marinette's inner demons seriously. It leads to a very conflicting picture the episode is trying to paint with the way Marintte's conflict is portrayed.

We then cut to what seems to be the only thing the writers like to do with this character now, Alya acting like has control over Marinette's love life.

Of course those are the only pictures Alya got of Marinette.

Uh... Alya? Honey? Have you even considered the fact that maybe Marinette didn't tell you about Luka because that's none of your damn business??? What gives you the right to know every single detail about your friend's life? I understand that you're a hardcore Adrienette shipper (and an unintentional metaphor for how obsessed the writers are with the Love Square), but why would Marinette be obligated to tell you about Luka?

I know that I asked Marinette if she told Alya about Luka in my “Truth” review, but that was because she continued to force the belief that Marinette still liked Adrien onto her. Yeah, I'm still confused as to why Marinette didn't tell Alya, but the difference is that I was more confused at her not explaining it, and felt it would have made the conflict in the New York special a lot easier. I don't think Marinette has to tell Alya, I just think it would make some things easier between them with how much Alya wants Adrienette to be canon. Marinette has no obligation to tell Alya anything about who she's dating. What goes on in someone's love life is a private matter, and we'll see that Alya has no regards for privacy.

Alya, along with Juleka, Rose, Mylene, and Alix, devises a plan to give Marinette a friendship bracelet to show their support for her. And as usual, Alix has the simple idea to talk to Marinette about what's going on with her, and of course, she's ignored. Sorry, Alix, but this is an Alya episode, where smart choices don't fly here.

We cut back to Marinette's room where we get a pretty good scene where Marinette confides to Tikki about how she knows she has no chance of having a love life. She points out how she had to end things with Luka because of her secrets, and knows that even if she worked up the courage to talk to Adrien, she couldn't do anything because of the same secrets. She can't tell her parents or friends about her secrets and is forced to lie to everyone all the time. The voice actress gives a good performance, and the animators did a good job rendering the red eyes Marinette gets from crying.

And then we get back to the stupid stuff, where Marinette decides to transform into Ladybug and demands Hawkmoth (even though he's Shadowmoth at this point) show himself. This is really just an excuse for the Girl Squad to barge into Marinette's room, where Rose sees the dollhouse Marinette uses to hide the Miracle Ball. Marinette quickly runs back in and tries to hide the the Miracle Ball from her friends, who confront her about her “problem”.

No, real friends respect boundaries and don't demand to know every single detail about someone's life. They understand that there are secrets they don't have the right to know about. If Alya found out that Alix still needs to sleep with a nightlight and told everyone, would you really be surprised if she got mad at Alya for exposing this secret of hers? Right now, Marinette is clearly uncomfortable about telling her friends about a secret she has, and rather than understand she doesn't want to, they just keep pressing on, and don't care how unhappy she looks.

Unsurprisingly, Marinette tells them all to get out, saying she doesn't want them as friends anymore. Okay, so we're in every salt fic ever written now. Again, we get a good scene where Marinette feels remorseful for what she said (as understandable as it was), while the girls leave with their heads down.

Shadowmoth sends out an Akuma for the friendship bracelet, and because the object had personal meaning to all of them, Alya, Juleka, Rose, Mylene, and Alix all get akumatized into their previous Akuma forms, Lady Wifi, Reflekta (yet again), Princess Fragrance, Horrificator, and Timebreaker respectively. Shadowmoth calls them the “Gang of Secrets”. But they were akumatized because of secrets. Wouldn't a more accurate name be something like “The Honesty Brigate” or “Truth Troop?”

When I reviewed “Felix”, I had talked about how the motivations for the three Punishers weren't didn't reflect their Akuma forms, which were twisted versions of what they were feeling like at the time. While the same thing applies here (as well as “Heroes' Day”, now that I think about it, though I always thought it was like a drawback to Scarletmoth's powers), the titular Gang of Secrets is actually a pretty good lineup.

I think my main problem in “Felix” is that we didn't get to see the three Akumas working together much because the writers were trying to prioritize Felix as the primary threat of the episode and failed miserably. Here, we get to see a lot of interesting combos and strategies I never really thought about. Lady Wifi uses her powers to freeze some civilians while Timebreaker skates by and absorbs their energy for her skates. Reflekta zaps some other civilians while Princess Fragrance sprays them with her perfume to brainwash them into looking for Marinette, even if it’s the only time this episode that we get to hear “At your service, Princess Fragrance~!”. Horrificator intentionally goes around scaring people while growing in size, acting as the muscle (even though she doesn't do anything in this episode). They all work surprisingly well together, acting like Ladybug and Cat Noir's own Sinister Six.

After making a new safe to hide the Miracle Ball, Lady Wifi breaks into Marinette's room again, so Trixx, the Fox Kwami, uses his power to create a mirage to distract her. But like when Plagg used his Cataclysm in “Style Queen”, it has a little drawback.

The funny thing is that this doesn't even crack the top 5 in terms of weirdest things to happen to the Eiffel Tower in this show.

We cut to Adrien's room so the show can remind the audience he exists before he transforms into Cat Noir. The two don't meet up in person, but Ladybug tells Cat Noir to keep Timebreaker busy so she doesn't travel back in time while Ladybug goes after Lady Wifi. Of course, she doesn't have the friendship bracelet, but that wasn't Ladybug's plan in the first place.

Her actual plan is talking to Lady Wifi in an attempt to get Alya to break free of Shadowmoth's control. It's short, but it's a nice scene, with Ladybug explaining to Alya that even though they can't know everything about each other, they're still friends. So against all odds, Alya manages to reject the bond with Shadowmoth.

Oh yeah, it's not like we saw Chloe reject an Akuma in “Miraculer”, right? And Chrismaster giving up his akumatized object for Ladybug to purify? That didn't count either. Alya is clearly the first person to ever do this, and this is why you should immediately accept what happens later on.

Alya tells Ladybug where the Akuma is, and in response, Ladybug gives Alya the Fox Miraculous, which she uses to transform into Rena Rouge... even though she was already benched in “Feast” for endangering herself by uploading a video about the history of the Guardians to the internet, just like how Queen Bee and Ryuko were benched earlier for similar reasons, and the latter only appeared again because Ladybug wanted to get Kagami away from Adrien. Because I guess we're just going to ignore one of the biggest plotpoints of “Miracle Queen” now.

The other Akumas have Cat Noir at their mercy, so Rena Rouge uses her Mirage to create an illusion of Marinette to distract them. Timebreaker goes off to chase the illusion, and while Horrificator, Princess Fragrance, and Reflekta are about to take Ladybug's Miraculous, Rena Rouge and Cat Noir are the ones to break the object. Overall, a really clever climax to the episode.

So after Alya returns her Miraculous to Ladybug, we cut back to Marinette apologizing to her friends, who never apologize for invading her privacy. And while she mentions Luka, Marinette suddenly talks about how hard is to confess her feelings for Adrien, something that was never mentioned in this episode, because the writers are desperately trying to encourage the audience to ship the Love Square again brutally shooting down Lukanette and Adrigami. And after all this, Alya goes back up after everyone else leaves because she can just tell Marinette has another secret. How does she know this?

Okay, fine, Alya can be supportive of Marinette, and even her worst moments like the New York special were motivated by what she thought would make Marinette happy. A little misguided, and yeah, her teasing can be annoying at times, but she's ultimately there to help push Marinette to be honest with her feelings. “Reporter” is stretching it a little. No matter what the show likes to say, Alya isn't a good reporter. She barely verifies her sources and just posts things online. I'm sorry, but the Ladyblog is basically the superhero equivalent to TMZ. Alya probably doesn't even know who Joseph Pulitzer or Edward R. Murrow are, because rather than reporting the news to the public, she just wants to find things that will get her clicks on her website. Alya's biggest flaw as a character is that she is incredibly impulsive, but like everything else in the show, this flaw is never acknowledged, and is basically rewarded. Why do I say that? Well...

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this scene. On the one hand, it's very well acted, and the interaction genuinely highlights Marinette and Alya's friendship. Before she tells Alya, Marinette is just opening her heart out to her friend, and the grievances are played completely seriously. Even the reaction Alya gives when she finds out is very subdued, simply showing her shocked face before she gives Marinette a hug, with no dialogue. It's a very profound moment, and it's arguably one of the best in the entire series. Even the ending card doesn't show an action scene, but rather, it continues to focus on the hug while the Kwamis watch.

And thankfully, the episode doesn't end with the standard upbeat “Duh dun dun dun dunnnn, DA DA DA DA~!” track that almost every episode, no matter how depressing, usually ends with. It's just a really great moment, and a good way to end the episode... on its own.

When you think about previous episodes, like what I've mentioned with Alya, it's just strange that despite all the times she has shown herself to be bad at keeping secrets (like the aforementioned scene in “Feast”, posting a picture of her and Cat Noir kissing on the Ladyblog without her consent, and invading her privacy in this very episode, demanding to know her secrets), Marinette suddenly decides to give Alya a chance. Even worse, she had just said that she wasn't going to force her to tell her anything, which seemed like a strong character moment for her, but then the writers go back on the lesson and have Marinette do what Alya was trying to do the whole episode and tell her she's Ladybug.

Sure, Ladybug told Alya she was the Guardian and to keep it a secret earlier, but this lesson in keeping secrets should have stuck when she first became Rena Rouge in Season 2. I don't have a problem with Alya being Marinette's confidant (lord knows she needs one at this point), but I just don't think Alya is ready for this. It's the same thing with what happened with Adrien in “Syren”, by saying him immaturely threatening to quit being Cat Noir because of Ladybug's secrets was meant to show how he was ready to meet Master Fu even though it showed how selfish he was and was anything but ready. How is an episode where Alya tries to force Marinette into telling her everything she's keeping a secret meant to show she's ready to learn Ladybug's identity. Maybe if this episode kickstarted a character arc for Alya where she learned about why people keep secrets and that getting the truth isn't the right thing to do, culminating in a later episode where Alya learns Ladybug's identity, I'd be fine with that. As it is, this just had some poor timing and was the result of the writers not really thinking this through.

I guess I'm still interested to see where this goes, and how Marinette and Alya's friendship will change as a result of this. Maybe Alya can help Marinette get away to transform, or worry about her safety after an Akuma fight. Although the worst case scenario is that if Cat Noir finds out about this, he'll use it as an excuse to bitch and moan about how Ladybug is still keeping secrets from him and of course, she'll be blamed for whatever happens as a result of that.

Though I can't help but feel like I'm forgetting to mention something. Wasn't there someone else who wanted to know the truth about Marinette?

OH YEAH, I FORGOT ABOUT HIM JUST LIKE THE WRITERS DID.

This is what really kills the episode for me, just how it goes back on everything established in “Truth”. The whole reason Marinette broke up with Luka in the first place (which motivated the conflict of this episode) was because she realized keeping secrets from him wouldn't lead to a healthy relationship. As much as it pained her, it was a necessary evil Marinette had to do in order to protect her identity.

But now you're telling me that it's okay for Marinette to tell Alya her secret? WHY? How is this any different from what happened with Luka? Like Alya, Luka also wanted to known the truth, but the only difference was the way he confronted Marinette. He calmly asked her about what she was hiding, and even though she couldn't tell him, he respected her boundaries, and they both managed to end things on good terms.

Alya, who has a history of exposing secrets to the public, who barged into Marinette's room and demanded she tell her all of her secrets, is more trustworthy than Luka? This is why I don't buy the writers making Alya Marinette's confidant. I get that they want to give her some more story presence after how she had mostly faded into the background in Season 3, but this just isn't the way to do it.

Barring that, what did I think of the episode?

Yeah, it's just... it's just okay at best, mediocre at worst. There were a handful of decent moments in the episode, and some creative action scenes. Even stuff like Cat Noir's forced movie date and Alya violating Marinette's privacy isn't anything new, and unlike other episodes, the latter actually seems to apologize for that. The problem, as I already stated, was the ending. I think maybe the ending could have worked if Alya had found out Marinette's identity, but decided to keep it a secret. That way, it would make for an interesting dynamic, with Alya learning to be more responsible while secretly helping come up with ways for Marinette to get away to transform.

But as it stands, the episode is alright, but mostly forgettable if not for the ridiculous ending.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Happily Ever After - 5

The Tower: Happily Ever After An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist | Character Refrence PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1601

Warnings:  Pregnancy

Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children.  Yet things aren’t perfect.  Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Chapter 5: Farewell to Our Old Life

It was kind of strange how little there was to organize for us regarding our move.  There was packing, but we couldn’t exactly hire a moving truck so it needed to fit in bags that we could carry or it had to stay behind.  That was difficult.  We had had a long time to collect a lot of things we considered precious to us.  The glass artwork that Thor and I had inadvertently made on our honeymoon was the thing I wished we could bring the most.  It would stay in the fountain in the entry and hopefully, we’d come back sometimes and see it.

Thankfully, most of our things were fairly portable.  We also wouldn’t need a lot of clothes because Asgard would provide things more fitting for the palace, and it’s not like we would need any furniture.  Mostly it was just personal effects and tech that Tony wanted to use there.

Other than that it was just letting the doctors know I was leaving, pulling Marya out of school, and organizing the party.

It was still leaning on the stressful side though - especially considering we were still waiting to hear what the rest of the kids were going to do.

Even though Rose and Paul had appeared closest to deciding to come, it was Billy and Teddy who came back to us first with a yes.  They had also said they wanted to do a bonding ceremony when we were there, which added another level of excitement and another level of stress.

Rose and Paul came next.  They said that they would try it out and see.  The concern about their children’s lifespan was a big issue for them, but Paul also said he’d be crazy to give up at least trying to live on Asgard as actual royalty.

As expected it was Eddie who took the longest to decide.  He really did love his job, and I think even with his talk about having children, he, Lyra, and Rory were still right into the rich, young party lifestyle.  He was worried about what they’d lose going to Asgard, rather than focusing on the things he might gain. 

No one pressured him though.  Any questions the three had were answered as honestly as we could and if we didn’t know we’d send word back to Asgard and Loki would come and give the answers they were looking for if at all possible.  Eventually, he decided that he’d give it six months for us to settle and make sure things with Stark Industries and the Avengers was transitioning smoothly given our sudden departure, and then he and his family would join us there to try it out.  He mentioned maybe doing six months on each planet or returning to Earth for a month or two every year, but we were all just glad he was willing to try it out, and his delayed departure from Earth was a good idea.  He even promised to come and visit when his new siblings were born.

When our goodbye party began, the whole family was excited for this new chapter in our lives and sad to say goodbye to the last.

Many of our friends were elderly or had passed on, so the party was going to be a mixture of different people.  Clarke was still around, though Jax had passed a few years ago.  We’d lost Rhodey and Fury, though Hill was still running the day-to-day operations of the Avengers, even in her old age, and Coulson had retired after years as successfully being director of SHIELD.  Vision was the same as ever, and people often came to him for direction when it came to the Avengers.  Carol also hadn’t changed though she still spent more time in space than on Earth.  A lot of the people we had met that had seemed so young when we met them, were all not officially middle-aged.  Even Peter Parker who was only fifteen when I met him was now pushing fifty and had a wife and daughter of his own.

They would all be at the party, including a lot of the new Avengers lineup.  Most of whom were much heavier hitters than any of us, even when we were wielding Mjolnir.  It was definitely going to be sad to say goodbye.

“It’s going to be okay, you know?”  Wanda said, snapping me out of my mini-trance as she ran a brush methodically through my hair.

“No, I know,” I said, tilting my head back.

“Then tell your brain that,” she teased.

I giggled and leaned up and pecked her lips.  “I’m sorry.  I would if I could.  Just hormones I guess.  Feeling stressed.”

“Well, stop it,” she scolded playfully.  “It’s bad for the babies.”

She began to braid my hair and I hummed as her fingertips grazed over my scalp.  “Imagine it though, Elly,” Wanda said.  “All the kids nearby - the new babies.”

“You’re a baby-oholic,” I said, laughing softly.

“It’s true,” she says.  “I am.”

She ran a hand around my side and pressed it on my stomach.  “I can’t wait to meet them,” she said.  “They already have such busy thoughts.”

I looked up at her and I’m not sure whether it was the look of pure and complete love in her eyes or the way the light caught in her hair, but I was struck by how beautiful she was and how much I loved her.  She smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead.  “I love you too,” she said and picked up a strand of silver wire with black opal and threaded it into my hair.  “All done.”

I stood carefully and straightened out the skirts on my blue lace cocktail dress.  “How do I look?” I asked.

“Perfect as always,” she said.  “Let's go say goodbye to our friends.”

We made our way down to the party deck where the party was only just starting up.  Bruce, Steve, and Clint were all already there, but there was no sign of Tony, Natasha, Clint, Sam, Thor, or Bucky.

Some of our kids were there and their kids all played out in the garden atrium that was built on the protruding wing of the tower and the party deck opened out into.  I greeted everyone and as I made my way around the room more people arrived.

Clarke came over and tapped me on the shoulder.  I turned and smiled, hugging her tightly.  She had aged well, not as well as I had obviously, but while her face was lined and she was a little frailer looking, she had kept in good shape and she continued to color her hair.  It would be easy to think she was in her early fifties rather than her mid-seventies.  Her eyes were what gave it away.  What had once been vivid violet had faded to pale lavender and were slightly cloudy.  They were heavily lined at the corners, the years having carved deep crevices to mark each time she was happy or sad or angry or worried.  It was still my Clarke though and I was going to miss her.

“I can’t believe you’re not going to be here when these two are born,” she said, indicating to my stomach as we pulled apart.  She was one of the select group of people I would be totally fine with touching my stomach unasked - but she never assumed.  “Where am I going to get my baby kisses from?”

I laughed and shook my head.  “I guess you’ll have to visit me on Asgard.”

“You can do that?”  She asked.

“I mean… I’m the Queen.  I think I can pull some strings,” I teased.

She laughed.  “God, thinking of you as a Queen is such a trip.”

“Hey Auntie Clarke,” Billy said, appearing behind us.  “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Clarke hugged him and looked around.  “It’s been too long.  Where are those kids of yours.”

“Come on, I’ll take you to them,” he looked over at me and narrowed his eyes.  “You go sit down, mom.  You know you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” I argued, holding up my hands.  “I’m just standing here.”

“Go on,” he said.  “Don’t make me page Dad Tony.”

“Heaven forbid,” I laughed and he wrinkled his nose at me and led Clarke out to the atrium.  I got myself a little plate of appetizers and a glass of punch and went and took a seat.

It wasn’t long until the whole room was teeming with people.  The Avengers had gotten to be a rather large collection of people since the original six had been reluctantly dragged together all those years ago.  Having so many of the people who meant so much to all of us here at the same time couldn’t help but make me think about how I’d first joined this group that would one day be my family.

All those years ago I had been a traumatized woman in her mid-twenties, just trying to get by.  I didn’t have many good friends, because it took a lot for me to trust people.  It took a superhero to get through and with her, so many other people flooded in after.  I was so grateful to them, and so in love with each of them to this day.  It would be hard letting this life of ours go, but it was inevitable.  I still had my 9 chosen people though, and I always would.  I was glad to be taking this next step with them at my side.

// NEXT

[thelargefrye]

INTRODUCTION

SUMMARY : how your relationship came to be

PAIRING : poly!ateez x reader

WORD COUNT : 2.1k

WARNINGS. falling down the stairs + injuries + mentions of a hospital

being an idol was hard. all the years of endless hard work and then the amount of stress that is put on you. it’s even harder when your company decided to “spice things up” and try something different for their new group.

which is how you came to be in a male dominated group as the ninth and only female member. granted at the time the group was being formed, you were the only female trainee and it wasn’t like the company totally didn’t know what to do with you. that’s a lie, they had no idea what to do with you. so that’s more or less a quick and possible bad explanation on how you ended up in the ateez lineup.

training with the guys was fine. you got closer to some members more than others. it was a lot of figuring out how to make you feel welcomed after they had already had a year+ to get to know each other and figure the other out.

it was fine.

san was the first member to really welcome you into the group and made to sure to include you in on everything. at the time, you used to see him being nice as a friendly gesture, but now... you realize he only did it because he had a crush on you.

“you did?” you remember asking him one night as you laid in your bed together. the two of you were remembering your trainee days when san confessed about his crush.

“you were practicing your dance for the monthly evaluation and i was just so... fascinated by how you moved,” he explained causing a blush to form on both your cheeks. 

you wonder what would have happened to your relationship if you had noticed his feelings sooner. when you were trainees and even after debut, your feelings were ultimately occupied by the leader of your group. of course hongjoong was so blinded by his love for music and the eldest member, that he didn’t even think twice about you most times on his own accord. 

it was pathetic how you all acted around each other really. one member in love with two others and then one of those two might have returned the feelings while also liking a different member. it was just one big emotional mess.

sometimes you wonder what set off the chain of events that finally caused you all to become lovers. 

“i think after you confessed to hongjoong-hyung that’s when everything started,” san said that same night. 

that was honestly a whole train wreck and a story for maybe another time, but just know that hongjoong thought you were messing with him. so you ended up playing it off as a joke until you got to the dorm were you cried for an hour in the shower and then proceeded to lock yourself in your room for the rest of the night.

“i felt terrible that night. hearing you crying on the other side of you door and not being able to help you,” he spoke and by this time you were holding hands. you gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “i’m not going to lie, i was shocked when it was wooyoung would volunteered to go talk to you.”

you let out a laugh, “yeah i was too. woo was really helpful that night, i think it really helped our personal relationship.”

and it was true, when you joined the team, everyone seemed rather welcoming of you. all but wooyoung seemed to enjoy having you around. the male would often ignore you or would bump into you and then blame you for being clumsy. it hurt, you’re not gonna lie, but you pushed on and did your best to ignore his rudeness.

when you two ended up talking, you found out he was only jealous of how close you and san had gotten and that he felt like you were slowly also taking yeosang away from him. “wooyoung, i would never try to take san or yeosang away from you. i love all three of you dearly and would never want to come between you and the others. i’m sorry i made you feel that way, it was never my intention.”

“i realize now that maybe it me just being insecure of myself. i shouldn’t have been so mean to you.” you remember holding your hand out to him suddenly. he looked so confused and just stared at your hand before looking at your glassy, red eyes. he then took it after a few moments.

“i’m y/n, its nice to meet you,” you said softly as you shook wooyoung’s hand. “i hope we can be friends!” 

“i’m wooyoung. i hope so too.”

after that you two started to become close and it was like all the rude and mean things he did to you were put behind you both. you also began putting your feelings for hongjoong behind you and instead you began to grow feelings for san and wooyoung.

“when did these feelings happened?”

“i think... around our first comeback and when we were doing our first world tour. i began spending more time with you both and you both made me feel safe and loved. at the time i thought something was wrong with me for liking two people. i think mingi might have found me crying about it one day and talked to me about my feelings.”

mingi was probably the only person you could have deep life talks with, without the thought of him judging you for them. he never once looked at you like you were a possible weirdo or even a whore as might consider for what you told him.

“there’s nothing wrong with loving more than one person.” that night he ended up confessing about his own feelings towards not only yunho but you. “see you’re not a weirdo because i love two people too. you and yunho mean a lot to me, and i would do anything to keep you both happy.

you honestly don’t know how it happened, but all you remember is him leaning over to kiss you. the kiss didn’t last long because of wooyoung suddenly coming into your shared hotel room. at first you weren’t sure if wooyoung had seen you two kiss, but you could tell by the slight flash of hurt that he did. 

before you could say anything, wooyoung quickly left the room, door slamming behind him. you were thought about going after him before deciding against it. “i’m sorry.” you turn to mingi and smile at him letting him know he didn’t do anything.

this went on for a few months, you and the other member dealing with your feelings that seemed to be growing for each other. but then none of you knowing how the other felt. it was during the wave/illusion comeback when things started really happening. you began making friends with female idols and hanging out with them.

“hey, y/n do you think you can give my number to seonghwa?” you remember soojin asking you, and yes we are talking about i-dle’s soojin. you hesitated at first knowing that your leader was still in love with seonghwa, but you took the piece of paper with her number on it to not be rude.

“oppa, what do you think about soojin from i-dle?” it was the next day during practice when you asked. you weren’t looking at seonghwa directly, keeping your eyes trained on the reflections in front of you. you of course spotted hongjoong carefully listening in.

“she’s cute,” is all he said.

“she wanted me to give you her number,” you explain and seonghwa looks at you with a tilt of his head. “do you,” you quickly glance at hongjoong, “want it?”

“sure. it’d be nice to get to know her,” he says with a simple smile. you can’t help but catch the look of panic and hurt flash through hongjoong’s features before he turns away to do something else.

after that, seonghwa would text soojin almost every chance he got. after a few weeks, seonghwa told you guys he would going on a date with soojin. 

“i felt hongjoong’s heart break and i knew it was my fault,” you admit to san.

“you were just being a good friend to soojin.”

“but i knew it would have hurt hongjoong-oppa if soojin-unnie and seonghwa-oppa had hit it off like they did. deep down i think i did it because i wanted hongjoong to know how it felt to have his heart ripped apart and then i realized how selfish i was.”

“is that why you threw yourself down the stairs? to stop seonghwa from going on his date?” your silence confirmed what he said was true and san couldn’t help but laugh. “that was probably the most stupidest thing i had ever seen you do. you scared all of us half to death,” he confessed.

throwing yourself do the stairs at the dorm, probably was and still is the most stupidest and dangerous thing you had ever done. honestly, it was a last minute decision to try and maybe secretly make up for hurting hongjoong. you made it seem like an accident, that you were running down the stairs in your slippers. something seonghwa may have told you not to do in fear of you slipping and falling. it worked though, seonghwa cancelled his date in order to take you to the hospital.

“i’m sorry,” you told seonghwa on the way back from the hospital.

“for what baby? it was an accident, you got hurt and i have to take care of my members,” he says, an arm wrapping around your shoulders to bring you closer.

“but i ruined your date with unnie.”

“i wasn’t that interested in her anyway,” he confesses and you look at him with confusion. “there’s... someone or someones else that i’m more interested in.”

“who?” seonghwa didn’t bother answering with words. instead he used his free hand to cup the side of your face before kissing you. 

“w-wait,” you gasp pulling away, eyes wide in shock as you look at seonghwa. your left speechless, what the actual hell? seonghwa was the last person on earth you thought could possible like you. “i-i-i don’t... i don’t understand.”

“i think all nine of us are rather confused about our feelings for one another.” you can’t help but agree to his words and how true they were. looking into your eyes you quietly ask, “will you kiss me again?” you don’t know what came over you in the car ride home. the two of you kissed the whole rest of the ride, lips swollen and red by the time you reach the dorms. you felt slightly embarrassed that you and seonghwa made out in the backseat while your manager drove you home.

he bided the two of you goodbye before leaving, the three of you never spoke of it again, which was honestly fine by you. once back in the dorm, san was the first one two greet you and ask how you were.

“i think we all need to have a talk about what’s been happening with us these last few months,” seonghwa says, the remaining eight of you knew what he was talking about and soon enough you were all sitting in the living room confessing how you felt.

“so what now?” jongho asked from his spot on the floor.

“well,” yeosang began and everyone looked towards him, “i did some research a few weeks ago and found out there are relationships with more than two people. polyamory is what the internet called it, and i think we should all give it a shot. its obvious that we all really care for one another, and i think we can make it work.” he finishes and yunho is the first one to agree.

“i think we should give it a shot like yeosang said!” you swear just his smile alone could reassure you of anything.

“honestly, i couldn’t imagine my life now without being with you all. you bring me so much happiness and love,” you confess, turning to look at san.

“me too,” he says before leaning over to kiss you. both of you occupied with kissing don’t realize yunho had entered the room. a pout forms on his face before he walks over and jumps on the bed, landing on top of you both. you and san groan as yunho begins smothering you both with kisses. 

“hey are you three having fun without us?” wooyoung whines as him and jongho walk by and eventually joined on the way too small bed. eventually the remaining four members joined you guys, and now you and san are being dog piled on top of. 

but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[bluemoonpunch]

HI! This is from a pretty old post but I was wondering, what did you mean when you said you used to "enter a trance state in three or four different sets"? Did you just repeat a certain technique over and over until you went under or did you mean something else?

A: Yeah, pretty much. It's sort of like dropping deeper and deeper into your unconscious mind layer by layer, similar to what they do in Inception, I think. Similar concept. Every layer would be something different like I would do something different in order to go down further as I was in a different state of mind or holding a different level of consciousness.

XXXX

Q: Hey! I was re-reading the external alignment of min yoongi that you posted (because weirdly his readings which are very old now, give me comfort :| ) and read that incarnation cycle part and your mentioning 200-year cycle. Just realized that the great Jupiter Saturn mutation cycle is also 200 years long so maybe it's some dots that connect? Idk I almost had an epiphany moment and then felt dumb, sorry.

A: It is an interesting lineup for sure. I wouldn't be surprised if there is some connection there. Here's an article about it if anyone is interesting: link.

XXXX

Q: me : vibin to the end credit music of bmp's videos

namjoon : sings

me: 👀

Bmp: slips in some numericals ( ��°³ ͡°)

Me: 👁👄👁

seriously nam-vocals and them codes hit diff -@bursaat

A: This is a very old ask that I've had saved in my ask box for a while just because it always made me smile, lol.

XXXX

Q: heyy just wanted to add a little info, Billie apparently shared her birth time back in the days on Twitter when she was talking about astrology and charts with her fans and it's 11.30 am. If you want you can look up to that too :) thanks for your work for the collective 🙏 -@bursaat

A: Thanks for letting me know. There's definitely some aspects in her chart that line up with her EA reading, a lot of interesting tension between planets that seems to be set up for public progression, kind of leading people through certain phases of life by publically displaying her own progression. It's very interesting for sure.

XXXX

Q: what happens when two souls merge?

A: If souls merge while still occupying physical forms, as in they are still existing physically as two separate humans, there can be a lot of psychological issues between the two or a severe imbalance where one has more trouble than the other, which can lead to a very noticeable power imbalance, especially in romantic partnerships. This is also something that can happen with twins who either share a split soul or just have a close enough connection or are dependent enough on each other that their souls merge.

I have seen before in some of my personal work and exploration that in some pretty severe cases one person will "vibrate out of the body" in order to merge with the other. In other words, the one who is "weaker" mentally or physically will die in order to merge with the other. On a higher level, the souls or the consciousnesses may remain separate, but they'll merge on lower levels. Such as merging on a 5D plane but remaining separate on 9D plane.

XXXX

Q: Hi! This is not a reading request, but could you please add dates to the mini-readings on your website from now on? There's no date for them anywhere and I know I can find them here and see where they were done, but if it's not too hard please add them in the future! Thanks!!! <3

A: Yes, all of the mini-readings on the BMP website should now show the dates they were posted on the top center, just below the main title of the post. Just be aware that some of the posts put up in late 2018 were carried over from Tumblr, so there will be two dates, one under the title for when it was posted onto the website, and another date at the top of the entry marking when it was originally posted on Tumblr.

XXXX

Q: Hey! Hope you are well. I have a general question about shifting timelines: How do we identify if we've shifted to a different timeline in a tangible sense? Is it based on how our interests change, how clear/hazy our memories become of fairly recent years, etc? I've been getting back to regular meditation again and I'm trying to figure out if what I'm going through is because of work+isolation+lockdowns messing up my perception or if it is something else.

A: Well, I assume it can be different for everyone, but for me, it's definitely a matter of memory and energetic ties to those memories that state out the most. Specifically around trauma and very heavy memories that used to really deeply trigger me even with the slightest mention of it now feel almost like something that I've only just heard about rather than experienced. Like, I still remember things very clearly, but they just don't feel heavy anymore, they don't come with negative feelings the way they used to, it's just kind of... there. Almost like a dream.

I've definitely experienced certain shifts before where, deadass, one day I was absolutely terrified of a specific concept, specifically involving aspects of communication with higher consciousness or beings of other dimensions and whatnot, and then suddenly the next day it was absolutely not a problem at all. It was really strange, but it was literally like flipping a switch. I've had a few moments like that in the past 4 years or so where "flipping a switch" could most accurately describe certain points of shifting timelines or shifting in levels of conscious awareness simply because of how fast it happened.

Shifting timelines can also come with remembering past lives, or being able to recall experiences you yourself didn't have, which can be really confusing and anxiety-inducing at times, but as long as you are conscious of it and you know what's going on, it's easy to ground yourself and settle into the present moment and just focus on the here and now.

Sudden inspiration or interests popping up out of nowhere along with very strong intuitive pulls toward new things can be a sign of shifting timelines but also signs of spiritual or conscious expansion and development within a singular timeline as well.

[missroonilwazlib]

So I was just randomly thinking about cool ways they could reintroduce AoS characters into the new Marvel tv show lineup, and here’s a few I thought about. (Only going to focus on the original first season cast for now, although I might share my thoughts on where I think characters like Mack and Yo-Yo could go later.)

-Coulson, well this one I could see them doing very easily. In fact, there are technically two ways I could think of that they’d bring him in. Obviously, there’s his Chronicom/LMD version as it stands in the sort of current timeline (obviously not sure how they would explain some of the timeline discrepencies, although that could easily be explained by the quantum realm, as depicted in the show) either way, they could just bring that version of him in to one of the shows (like the Hawkeye show for instance.) in that scenario, they wouldn’t even have to explain to the wider non-AoS audience, how he’s alive, because of the whole “it’s actually a robot version of him” but it would also be rewarding to AoS fans to do it that way.

The other way they could bring him in is through the multiverse, which we already know it’s going to be a thing. While bringing an alternate universe version of him would be the nicest because he would actually be brought back from the dead rather than just brought back as a robot, it wouldn’t be as rewarding to the AoS fans, since he probably wouldn’t have all the AoS history intact. Of course, we could always get the best of both worlds and have both versions of Coulson show up at one point or another in a future Marvel show. I do think that if it’s the second version, the best place for him to show up would be in the Loki show, since that seems to focus on alternate timelines. (Would also be interesting to see Coulson coming face to face with the guy who killed him the first time.) Alternatively could imagine him in a future season of WandaVision, assuming the Multiverse is something it’s heading towards. If it’s just the LMD version, then I could definitely see Coulson showing up in Hawkeye probably.

-Melinda May, another easy one, being that she teaches at Coulson Academy, which probably means she still works for SHIELD. Could see her showing up pretty much anywhere, except for maybe the Loki show. Best place would probably be Hawkeye, or if a tv show spin-off of Sword happens (hopefully starring Monica Rambeau, Darcy Lewis, and Jimmy Woo,) then I could definitely see her as something of a recurring character. (Especially since it was implied in the show that Melinda May knew Woo personally.)

-Daisy Johnson, definitely could see her joining one of the shows with the new superheroes or any shows involving Sword, assuming that’s where she’s working now. Ms. Marvel in particular would be a good place for her to have a recurring role. Could also see her being the character who branches off to the movies, too, along with Coulson.

- Fitz and Simmons, now this one’s a little more tricky because they’re basically semi-retired and have a child. Also, don’t think any of us want to see them put through the ringer after everything they went through in the show. That’s why I’m thinking the best place to have them show up would be to make them recurring or guest star characters in a more comedic show. Which means definitely not Falcon and the Winter Soldier or Hawkeye, which I assume both would be on the more serious side than some of their other lineups. Now, if there’s ever a spin-off series featuring Monica Rambeau, Jimmy Woo, and Darcy Lewis solving crimes, like I mentioned earlier, then this would be by far the best place to reintroduce FitzSimmons to the wider audience. Not only would that keep them out of harm, but it would also allow the actors to return to the old school humor of the first season, which is something I’m sure us AoS fans would like to see. In fact, I feel like that would be a good show to have any AoS character show up in, like May, but I feel as far as which AoS characters would be the most ideally suited to showing up in that kind of spin-off, it would have to be FitzSimmons.

Also, random aside, but another interesting thing I wouldn’t mind seeing, at least with Fitz, is have that evil Doctor version of Fitz show up in something like Loki. De Caestecker did a great job in that role (as much as I hated seeing Fitz be evil in any way.)

-Grant Ward; yeah, sort of a forgotten character in comparison to the others, but he was part of the main cast for the first three seasons, and I almost feel like, if they bring back AoS for another season, he should be integral to it, and it was kind of a missed opportunity not to have him show up anywhere in the last season during all of that time traveling. Now, unlike Coulson, or really any character I mentioned so far, there’s really only one way you COULD bring this character back, and that’s through the multiverse. However, don’t think they could reintroduce him anywhere but in a season 8 reboot of AoS. In fact, if AoS is rebooted, I feel like the focus this time around would have to be on the Multiverse, because while they certainly toyed with the idea a lot in AoS, they were never able to truly explore it, most likely because of what they were and weren’t allowed to do because of the MCU. But since they would be working more closely with Feige and company, then there’s no reason for them not to, and that’s where I think Ward would fit best.

Anyway, those are my thoughts for now. As I said, I’ll probably do another separate post about where I think Mack or Yo-Yo would make the most sense to show up. Hope you all enjoyed reading my musings, though.

[anextraordinarymuse]

Looking forward to your thoughts on tonight's WCTH if you have any you'd like to share...

Hey, anon. Let’s jump right in, shall we?

This was probably the first episode where I’ve enjoyed pretty much the whole episode in ... awhile. That might have something to do with the fact that I waited until today to watch, when I was ready and not tired. Anyway ...

Rosemary and Nathan for MVP’s!! Now, I pretty much always love Rosemary. But she held it down this episode: trying to help her friend, who she can see is hurting, but also calling her out and really making her do the emotional work that she’s been avoiding. I could have jumped through my screen and hugged the life out of Rosemary when she said “Elizabeth, Jack’s death wasn’t Nathan’s fault. You know that, don’t you?” 

It’s interesting (and illuminating) that Elizabeth immediately gets upset and defensive about that. I think that tells us something important about where Elizabeth’s head is at right now: because in her opening monologue she calls it “the senseless accident” that took Jack from her, but in this moment it almost feels like ... Elizabeth doesn’t know that Jack’s death wasn’t Nathan’s fault. I think she knows it wasn’t, but she also struggles with kind of accepting that. When someone you love very much dies a sudden, unexpected death one of the hardest things to grapple with is just not understanding it. Especially if there was “no reason”. Sometimes, we know ahead of time: it was cancer, or old age, or even in the case of a drunk driver or something. There is a clear cause there; there’s something or someone to place the blame on. But when someone just dies and there’s no reason for it, that is so hard to come to terms with. It’s easier to have somewhere to place the blame. I think that’s what Elizabeth is trying to make sense of right now. Nathan had nothing to do with Jack’s death, but that’s probably not how it feels right now. Elizabeth needs to make sense of the world all over again, but now that’s complicated by so many things - and we’ll get in to some of those in a minute.

I loved the Lucas and Allie scene. Allie’s uncertainty is so touching, and so is her heartfelt concern for her uncle. This poor kid is stuck in the middle of a situation she doesn’t understand, and has no idea how to navigate unless she does it from her center of True North: Nathan. Allie wants Elizabeth to be part of their lives, and she wants things to be okay with Lucas and Nathan, and she just really wants Nathan to be happy again. But she has no idea how to make any of that happen, so the best she can do is show her love and loyalty to her uncle. And I’ve never hated Lucas, but I don’t think I’ve ever loved him more than I did in this scene with Allie. In fact, he irritated me a little in a later scene, but in this moment I thought he was amazing. He understands Allie’s concern, and what she’s trying to do, and he immediately tries to reassure her. That was wonderful. BUT, I also found the story he tells Allie about his mother and the guy that wouldn’t leave her alone interesting. In that story, Lucas (the adult) is the man that wouldn’t leave his mother alone, and Allie is Lucas (the child) who is afraid and just trying to get the man to go away. So, Elizabeth and Nathan are the parents in that story, and Lucas is the man who is trying to separate them, and Allie is the child who is just trying to keep her parents together. 

Hmm ... what an illuminating story, Lucas. It’s almost like you know that you’re in the middle of something that’s bigger than you; almost like you know, on some level, that you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. 

Now, circling back to Elizabeth: I think right now she is looking for any reason not to love Nathan, and any reason that a love between them wouldn’t work. She’s making assumptions about a lot of things, and a lot of people, rather than simply asking for and then accepting the truth. At this point, I think we’ve seen that the truths Elizabeth has been given lately aren’t really ... helpful. They’re big, and they’re scary, and they aren’t helping her tell the story that she wants to tell herself. She doesn’t want Nathan to be noble, and selfless, and in love, because it’s easier for her to pretend that she’s not in love with him if he’s not those things. 

I think that scene with Nathan in the jail really rocked Elizabeth to her core - again. Lately, every time she talks to Nathan he sets her reeling - and if he’s her new foundation, as I’ve already mentioned, and that foundation right now feels shaky and unsettled, then everything else in her life is going to feel shaky and unsettled as well. But that scene in the jail ... Elizabeth is actively trying not to be in love, for just the reasons that Nathan said he didn’t want to be in love with her: because it feels like she’s betraying Jack’s memory. But there’s more to it than that: Elizabeth did not want to fall in love with another Mountie. Plus, there’s now a whole new layer to her relationship with Nathan now that she knows that he just as easily could have been in Jack’s place. This whole disaster started with Nathan’s close call in the season 7 finale, when Elizabeth thought he died. Now, episodes later, she has just found out that there was another time that he could have died - and it doesn’t matter that she didn’t know him then, because she knows him now. So, Elizabeth is dealing with the death of Jack, but now she’s also been made to face (again) that the man she doesn’t want to love, but does, could also have died twice over. Now, it’s natural for us to be glad that the people we love are okay and nothing bad happened to them - so does Elizabeth struggle with this? Maybe we’ll get to see it, but I bet she does. Imagine the confusion and guilt she’s trying to make sense of for being glad that Nathan didn’t die, but then feeling conflicted because Nathan not dying means that Jack did. And there’s no real competition here: you can absolutely be glad that this person you love is okay without wanting anything bad to happen to someone else. But in this confusing situation, full of grief and guilt, does Elizabeth really understand that? Or does she feel like a traitor for being grateful that Nathan didn’t die ... in the accident that Jack did die in? What a painful conundrum to be in. 

And that’s probably only compounded by Allie. Because three years ago Elizabeth didn’t know Nathan or Allie, but she knows them now - and loves them. And she knows (at least on some level) that Nathan dying would have left Allie totally alone in the world. But Jack dying left her and little Jack alone. And there is no right or wrong answer here, or right or wrong choice. No one (myself included) is saying that it was better that it was Jack who died instead of Nathan. It’s just a thing that happened. And, again, it’s true that Allie would have been totally alone without Nathan, but that’s not one of those helpful truths that we talked about. It doesn’t help Elizabeth tell herself whatever story she wishes she could live instead. 

And then hearing Nathan say the words back to her? “I fell in love with you, and I think love is always worth fighting for.” Of course, Elizabeth jumped on Rosemary’s statement that she talked to Nathan earlier; of course, Elizabeth would rather believe that Rosemary encouraged him and told him what to say. Because, if not ... if not, the alternative is that, yet again, she and Nathan are so in tune - so similar, and connected, and aligned - that it only makes her love him more. Here’s this man who won’t give up on her, no matter what; who will understand her grief and confusion and pain over loving him because he feels it too, because he also tried not to fall in love with her; who is noble, and selfless, and who, somehow, without knowing it, has said the very thing to her that she’s said to someone else weeks ago. I’m not at all surprised that Elizabeth would rather assume that Rosemary encouraged Nathan. 

And Rosemary! Calling Elizabeth out in that last scene ... amazing. It’s about time someone gave this woman some hard truths. 

Oh, and the scene in the saloon where Elizabeth is about to be blindfolded? Watch the way she looks at Rosemary, and the way Rosemary’s face changes. Elizabeth knew that this wasn’t going to end well, or at least knew enough of herself to know that she might not pick the man she intended to. She is afraid and anxious in that moment, and Rosemary sees it. She sees the doubt on Elizabeth’s face. I also think this is why Elizabeth says “Lucas?” quietly right before she takes off her blindfold. She stops at Nathan’s hands because of the feeling she gets - that breathless sort of spark - and she wants it to be Lucas. She hopes it’s Lucas ... but it definitely is not. And, keep in mind, this handholding moment comes after Elizabeth has been to the jail and she and Nathan have had their moment. So, Nathan tells her that love is always worth fighting for and now here she is, hours later, blindfolded and picking him out of a lineup by just the touch of his hands? Hands that she’s never held before, by the way, or really even touched in more than a glancing way. 

Listen, Elizabeth’s heart is a compass, and no matter how hard she tries to ignore it, it just keeps pointing her home. Upset, confused, guilty, on shaky ground, aligned, unaligned ... she still just keeps finding her way to Nathan. 

Also, later she tells Lucas that she talked to Nathan and she describes the encounter as awkward. Now, I honestly don’t know why they had her use that word. That scene in the jail is a lot of things, but awkward is not how I would describe it. Heavy, intense, emotional, raw, unguarded, honest ... but not awkward. Why did she describe it that way? I honestly don’t know. But, I’d also point out that Elizabeth maintains eye contact with Nathan when he talks about falling in love with her - she only looks away when Nathan says he felt guilty because he felt like he was betraying Jack’s memory. Her eyes shoot straight up to his face again when he tells about love being worth fighting for. Interesting body language, no? She’s looking right at him - no hiding, no looking away, no disbelief or surprise or anything when he talks about falling in love with her. And when Nathan steps closer to her, like real close, Elizabeth has that breathless feeling again - you can see it in the way she takes a deep breath as he approaches. And she’s almost crying when she leaves. What Nathan says brings tears to her eyes. 

So, again ... awkwardness where? Awkwardness who?

Also telling was that Elizabeth tells Lucas “I don’t want to be caught in the middle either, Lucas” when he says that he and Nathan will work things out so that Allie isn’t caught in the middle. Now, after Elizabeth says that and then tells Lucas that Nathan told her about the whole Jack thing, Lucas asks permission to go ask Nathan why he didn’t tell her sooner. That kind of irked me because it felt like overstepping, and too ... I don’t know, aggressive? That might not be the right word. At any rate, that was not Lucas’s place, and it wasn’t necessary. This matter truly is just between Nathan and Elizabeth. 

Anyway, I think this was a good episode. I do wonder if, after seeing the expression on Nathan’s face after Elizabeth leaves the jail, we’ll see Nathan kind of give up in episode 10 and 11. I know he said in this episode that he wouldn’t when Rosemary confronted him about it, but I wonder if that’s true. Or maybe he won’t give up, per se, but be like he was in this episode: there, but not there. He’s not seeking Elizabeth out or really even approaching her, but whenever she approaches him he’s open and honest with her. At any rate, I think we’ll see the real turnaround come in episodes 11 and 12. I think we’re seeing the start of it now, but that’s when it’ll really happen. We’ll see some more of it episode 10 - I kind of think Joseph will say something at the wedding that will set Elizabeth thinking even more - but things will really swing around in the last two episodes I think. 

[thebudgetgarden]

The Budget Garden 1: Maiden of Stand Peony (V-Premium)

Hello Cardfighters, I wanted to begin this budget deck series with a deck that is very near and dear to my heart, as it is a deck that is a part of my favorite clan, Neo Nectar, but that is also a deck that can be created with less than 20 euros, or even less depending on how cheap you can find the main boss units of this deck.  Maiden of Stand Peony is a deck that rewards aggressive plays and board advantage, and as such, even though it’s a very cheap deck, it’s a deck that can steal wins even from the strongest decks in the current meta landscape. 

We will begin by discussing the Grade 3 line-up, as well as what choices one can make to make their deck a tad bit more personalized.

This is our main boss unit, Maiden of Stand Peony, and she has the following skill: [AUTO](VC/RC):When placed, call up to one Plant token to (RC). If this unit is on (VC), call up to two Plant tokens instead of one. (Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost) [AUTO](VC):When it attacks, COST [Counter Blast (1) & retire four rear-guards], call four plant tokens to your (RC), and if your opponent's vanguard is grade 3 or greater, this unit and all of your token units get [Power]+10000 until end of turn. Maiden of Stand Peony is a deck that produces board advantage through tokens, while also being a multi-attack engine that gives power to herself and all of her token friends while your opponent’s vanguard is grade 3 or greater. That restriction, however, doesn’t mean that she’s completely useless as a first ride, as putting a force 1 marker on your leftmost or rightmost R circle means that that particular column will hit for 20k, twice, in the worst case scenario.  Maiden of Stand Peony is the main moving piece of this deck, so playing 4 copies of her in your deck is paramount to your deck’s success. Right now, Maiden of Stand Peony will set you back at about 6 euros for a playset. Now, a cardfighter that is familiarized with Peony’s mechanics might choose to just play just 4 copies of her for the entire grade 3 line-up. However, other players might choose to run some back-up grade 3′s for extra power, so these next few choices are for them.

Maiden of Iceberg is a very cheap and strong back-up grade 3 unit, and she has the following skill: [AUTO](VC/RC):When placed, COST [Counter Blast (1) & Soul Blast (1)], call up to two plant tokens to (RC), and this unit gets [Power]+5000 until end of turn for each of your plant tokens. (Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost) More tokens and more power, that is the name of the game in this deck, and Maiden of Iceberg is an excellent candidate for this deck. First and foremost, she is an amazing unit to use in conjunction with force 2, as she is always going to be getting at least 15k-20k power with her own skill, making her especially potent in matchups where getting your opponent’s damage count very high is vital to finish the game off.  Maiden of Iceberg is also exceedingly cheap, as she’s only gonna set you back 0.80 cents for an entire playset.  These 2 grade 3 units might be enough for most cardfighters to build a solid base for the grade 3 line-up, however I’m going to mention a few more cheap options for the players that wanna go a bit beyond. While these options are a great addition to the deck, they usually fall under the category of tech choices, rather than staple cards that you need to play.  The 2 grade 3 units in this category are the following: 

Maiden of the Trailing rose, who has the following effect:  [AUTO](VC/RC):When placed, call up to one plant token to (RC). If this unit is on (VC), call up to two plant tokens instead of one. (Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost) [ACT](VC)1/Turn:COST [Soul Blast (1)], and three of your plant tokens get [Power]+5000 until end of turn.

And last but certainly not least, Maiden of Protea, who has this very unique following effect:

[ACT](RC):COST [Retire this unit], and

call

up to three plant tokens to (RC).

(Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost)

Maiden of Trailing Rose is the first of the Neo Nectar clan, and it shows. Not only is she a powerful Vanguard unit that generates tokens on both the v and the r circles, but her secondary skill allows her to power-up three of your plant tokens, adding a very nice 15k of total power to your board for a single soul blast. 

Maiden of Trailing Rose is an excellent addition for the Cardfighters that feel like they want another boss unit in their deck. If that is the case, Maiden of Trailing Rose is an excellent addition, as it works very well as a first ride target, allowing for magic numbers to be hit from all columns. If you want her to be a part of your deck, she is going to set you back at about 3.25-4.00 euros.

Maiden of Protea is an odd-ball in this line-up. While she was initially noted for her very cute design, she is one of the few Neo Nectar units that saw almost no expermentation. That is because of her unique design. With the advent of Order Cards in the new Vanguard format, Overdress, cards that get used just once for a great effect aren’t that weird, at least not anymore. Maiden of Protea is a unit that doubles as an order, that allows you to get a board full of tokens for no cost whatsoever, apart from retiring herself. 

Maiden of Protea is a very unique addition to the deck’s lineup, and I implore the Cardfighters that will experiment with this deck to try her out. Being an over-looked common card, she wont set you back more than 0.40 cents, at most. 

There are many many more points to be made about the grade 3 line-up, but if your budget allows you to add more expensive cards, replace Maiden of Iceberg and Maiden of Protea with any number of Cornflower Flower Maiden, Ines and Arboros Dragon, Sephirot. These cards are more expensive but they are also the next step to building the competitive version of this deck. 

The grade 2 line-up is also interesting, being a mix of massive power increases, as well as a lot of utility for those who find that they do not have enough value generation in their deck.

We are going to begin with a few choices that turn your token units into cards in your hand, allowing you to survive into the late game and outvalue your opponent in both hand and board advantage. We have three main candidates for this list, as the space for the grade 2 slots is quite tight. 

Those three card-draw connaisseurs are the following: 

Spiritual Tree Sage, Irminsul, a card with the following effect:  [AUTO](RC):When placed, if you have two or more grade 0 rear-guards, COST [Counter Blast (1)], draw a card, and all of your units in the same column as this unit get [Power]+5000 until end of turn. Simply put, Irminsul is excellent. He is a card that has a very easy time fullfilling his condition, and an even easier time giving a column a total of 10k power, as well as a draw, all for the cost of a counter-blast. Irminsul is great for grade 2 rushing, pushing the power level of boards, turning your generations into advantage, as well as allowing for a single column to demand a 20k shield block out of your opponent. In my opinion, Irminsul is a must and should be run at 3-4 copies, which are gonna set you back at less than 1 euro.  Our second candidate, the stunning and beautiful Maiden of Nepenthes, and she has the following effect:

(excuse me for the japanese text, the effect is translated properly.) [ACT](VC/RC)1/Turn:COST [Retire a plant token], draw a card, and until end of turn, this unit gets "Boost", and [Power]+5000. [AUTO](RC):When it boosts a grade 3 rear-guard, you may have the boosted unit get [Critical]+1 until end of that battle. If you do, at the end of that battle, put this unit into your soul. Maiden of Nepenthes follows the exact notion of what this deck can do when faced with a slower, card advantage-based value deck, something along the lines of Megacolony or Oracle Think Tank. This maiden is unique, as she literally turns a token into a card in your hand, but she doesn’t reduce the overall power that is present on the board, effectively giving you advantage for no cost whatsoever. The secondary skill is a bit tougher to use effectively in this deck, but if you’re willing to stick with Neo Nectar in the long run, she has also seen play in Ahsha, which is the most popular Neo Nectar build, as of now. A full playset of her is gonna cost you about 2 euros, and I think that she’s a great card to run at 2 or 3 copies.  The last card in this section that requires a bit of our attention is Maiden of fall Vine, a very unique card which has the following effect: 

[AUTO](RC):When placed from hand to the (RC) with a plant token, draw a card, and this unit get [Power]+5000 until end of turn.  Talk about a unique effect ! Maiden of fall vine is one of those few cases where game mechanics and card interaction is specifically stated on the card text, so some new players may be initially confused. She needs to be called on an R circle that already has a pre-existing plant token unit on it, in which case she will inherit the power of said token, as well as replenish a card in your hand. You might notice a lot of similarities with Maiden of Nepenthes, and you would be 100% correct, however, Fall Vine is usually more favored as she is less restrictive and more cost-effective, allowing for a wider range of plays and combos to be made with her. Maiden of fall vine is a card that is integral to our strategy, therefore it needs to be a 4-of in our deck. She is also going to set you back about 3-4 euros, although she can be found for much cheaper online.  These grade 2 units are very powerful, and should be present in any token-based deck so that they may turn the board advantage that is provided by most Neo Nectar units into hand advantage. However, we have a few more miscallenious grade 2 units that need a quick look-over, those being:  Bad Boy, Walgackey, a grade 2 unit that has a very familiar effect, which reads: 

[ACT](RC):COST [Retire this unit], and call up to two plant tokens to (RC). (Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost) Maiden of Protea’s son has turned out to be quite the bad apple, but he can still be very useful in our deck. Retiring himself for 2 token units basically fullfills the entire condition of Irminsul, sets us up for Maiden of Fall Vine, and also further assists with Maiden of Nepenthes. A card with a simple effect that complements our entire deck. Walgackey is a flex slot, meaning that he’s not necessary, but he is a very cheap card, which is only gonna set you back about 0.40 cents for a playset,  However, grade 2 units can also bring the pain with very high numbers, which is the unique case of Lily of the Valley Musketeer, Kaivant, who has the following effect:

[AUTO](RC):When placed, this unit gets [Power]+5000 until end of turn for each of your grade 0 rear-guards. Apart from being near and dear to my heart, as he is a part of my favorite deck ever, the Musketeers, Kaivan is just an all-around excellent attacker for the Neo Nectar clan. Just like Maiden of Iceberg, Kaivant gets a nice 5k boost for each of your token units. In many board states kaivant gets a massive 20k attack boost just by being called from your hand. Kaivant is also only 20 cents, so an entire playset will not cost you more than 1 euro.  For the non budget options, as well as a few more unique card choices the cards I would recommend are the following: Pansy Musketeer, Sylvia, Osmanthus Maiden, Anelma, Maiden of Fine Ale

[AUTO](VC/RC):When placed, you may call a plant token to (RC). (Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost)

[AUTO](VC/RC):When placed, COST [Counter Blast (1) & Soul Blast (1)], draw a card, and call up to one Plant token to (RC). (Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost) [CONT](RC):If you have a rear-guard on your (RC) with the same card name as your grade 3 or greater vanguard, all of your units get "Boost".

[ACT](RC):COST [Counter Blast (1) & Retire this unit], look at three cards from the top of your deck, call up to two cards from among them to (RC), and put the rest on the bottom of your deck in any order. All of these choices bring some unique elements to this deck. Sylvia is an unconditional token summon, which is excellent for rushing and value plays, while Anelma requires both a counter blast and a soul blast to give you a card that both gives you a token and a card in your hand, both of which are excellent effects. Maiden of Fine Ale is an option that a few select lists run, as it turns herself into one of your high-value and low cost units, as well as thinning out the deck a tiny bit.  The grade 2 units are an integral part of every single Neo Nectar deck, as the majority of grade 2 Neo Nectar units are amazing cards both in conjuction with other cards and just by themselves. 

Moving forward, we have some very nice options for our grade 1 units, as the Neo Nectar grade 1 units are known for being power-houses in the early phases of the game.

We begin our grade 1 escapades with the most vital units of the deck, which are going to be 2 very high power grade 1 units that will give us value, and close out the game for us, those being Maiden of Flower Carpet and Maiden of Dream Shower. 

[AUTO](VC/RC):When placed, you may call a Plant token to (RC). (Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost) [AUTO](Drop Zone):At the end of your turn, COST [retire two Plant tokens], and return this card to your hand. This ability may only be used by a card with the same card name once a turn.

[AUTO](RC):When placed, if your vanguard is grade 3 or greater, COST [Counter Blast (1)], and all of your token units on (RC) get [Power]+10000 until end of turn.  Wow. Where to begin with both of these units? They are both quite excellent at what they do, but let’s begin with the more unique out of the pair, Maiden of Flower carpet. Flower Carpet is, by far, the best grade 1 Neo Nectar unit, as the token generation works on both V and R circles, it is unconditional with no cost, and she recycles herself by retiring 2 token units, effectively turning 2 useless units, that have little to no usage on your opponent’s turn into a 10k shield blocker, that can also be used for even more value next turn. She is a tiny bit pricier than the rest of the cards at about 4 euros for a playset, but it is well worth it for such an effect.  Maiden of Dream Shower is a win condition, plain and simple. Her effect has a few caveats, requiring both a counter blast and your vanguard being a grade 3 unit. However, the power she provides is game-winning. She is a card that, in many cases, with provide a whopping 40k power on your board, and paired with multiple copies she mades even your weak initial attacks before Peony’s skill quite deadly. She pairs fabulously with force 2, and in many circumstances she can blow your opponent out of the game. A glass cannon, to be sure, but a cannon nontheless. She is also exceedingly cheap, a common that is 10 cents per copy.  Our Grade 1 line-up continues to impress with our next few entries, as we take a look at 3 more token generators, as well as a very unique board buff. Our token generators are: Fruits Basket Elf, Maiden of Sweet Berry, and blowball squire.

[AUTO](VC/RC):When placed, call up to one Plant token to (RC), and if your vanguard is grade 3 or greater, Soul Charge (1). [CONT](RC):During your turn, if your vanguard is grade 3 or greater, this unit gets [Power]+5000.

[AUTO](RC):When placed, if you have no plant tokens, call up to two plant tokens to (RC). (Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost)

[ACT](RC):COST [Soul Blast (1) & retire this unit], call up to two plant tokens to (RC), and if your vanguard is grade 3 or greater, those plant tokens get [Power]+5000 until end of turn. (Plant tokens are grade 0/[Power]5000/[Critical]1 and have boost) There is not a lot to be said here, Cardfighters. What you see is what you get, cheap, strong, easy to use token generation, with some different varieties of spice. Blowball is a very unique sort of token generation, being insanely strong but only really being “active” on the first few turns of the game. Maiden of sweet berry is an excellent booster and a soul charge engine. Fruits basket is 2 tokens, as well as a nice power boost for said tokens. All of these cards have merit, however In the example list that is going to be provided, Fruits Basket Elf is the card that I have decided to run. All of these cards are excellent for what they do, and they are gonna set you back at about the same price, 20 cents for a copy. 

General overview of the deck, example decklist.

I truly do believe that Maiden of Stand Peony is one of the strongest Budget decks that you can make for a very low price. We haven’t even scratched the surface of what you can do with this deck, and I have neglected to mention quite a few options for all of the grades, as the ones that I mention are both a combination of being very cheap and very affordable.

I will showcase the list that I am currently using, which cost me less than 20 euros. 

Grade 3 

4x Maiden of Stand Peony

2x Maiden of Protea

Grade 2

4x Maiden of Fall Vine 

4x Spiritual Tree Sage, Irminsul

2x Lily of the Valley Musketeer, Kaivant

2x Maiden of Nepenthes 

3x Bad Boy, Walgackey 

Grade 1

4x Maiden of Dream Shower

4x Fruits Basket Elf

4x Maiden of Flower Carpet

Grade 0

1 Starter

8 Critical Triggers

4 Heal Triggers

4 Draw Triggers (Perfect guards)

This is a very basic list that is easy to pick up, easy to play and very very fun. Not to mention that once you learn how to use the deck effectively, you can steal wins off of very powerful decks.

Closing thoughts and special thanks. 

Thank you all for reading, especially if you have read this far. Sharing my thoughts and deck ideas with you guys has been proven to be great fun, and I would love to hear any constructive criticism about the formatting, any ideas that you may have or any Deck Recommendations that you might have for me. If you do, or you just want someone to talk vanguard with, please dont hesitate to contact my Discord (Bloom#8890), I would love to hear your thoughts of any of these topics.  Special thanks to my best friend Ophelia for pushing me to make this blog in the first place, you’re the best buddy :) .  That’s all for now, Cardfighters, see you in the next blog post ! Bloom aka thebudgetgarden.

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele WW2 Extension - The Ladies of the Air Transport Auxiliary 

Charlie,

You worry as much as your father, honestly! I am doing just fine here! Holding down the fort bravely in constant preparation for you to return to us and peace to fall once again. We’ve been following the RAF’s plans on promotional posters that the government has put up around town and I always feel a sense of pride when I see the crowd gathered to read – my son is part of all those exciting plans to help save Britain! Evelyn’s working so hard too and she’s been bragging to everyone at the factory that you’re going to be flying the planes they’re all building. I guess you can say we’re all one big ball of pride in our house! Your father too, of course, although he doesn’t show it as easily, I know he’s proud of you. I hope you know it too!

Love always

Mum

March 3, 1941

“New shipment of planes in from London factories today.” one of the other pilots said as the young men sat around at lunch. Charlie smiled to himself into his mess tin as he stirred his food around, thinking of his sister and her constant letters of excitement when it comes to building those same planes he would be receiving that day.

“How are they being delivered?” Richard asked.

“Air Transport Auxiliary.” the pilot answered. “Only the finest women in all of London to fly us our planes.”

“Finest women?” another questioned, his eyes wide.

“Not the finest women.” a third smacked his shoulder, “Just women volunteers with experience in flying so we don’t have to go fetch the planes ourselves.”

“After two years with you lot, any woman will be a fine woman.”

“I forget what a woman looks like.”

“What about the ones in the control room?”

“Nah. They’re all subpar or married.”

“Married? That certainly didn’t stop me.”

Then young men burst into laughter, all talking over each other with their own stories of women, but Charlie and Richard sat quietly together while they ate side by side. The best friends shared little shy smiles amidst the all too experienced men around them who found more pride in hook-ups rather than love. Must have been raised differently.

Soon, the sound of planes overhead got everyone’s attention as the shipment arrived, plane after plane landed carefully on the tarmac. Moments later, all heads in the mess hall turned to watch a group of young women dressed in dark royal blue uniforms encrusted with gold epaulets and a pair of gold wings sewn into the breast saunter inside. There was a pause from the men, all in shock at the beautiful clean kept women in stunning blue uniforms entered the mess hall. A few men jumped up to greet them eagerly and Richard and Charlie just chuckled and turned back to their lunches.

“Some of these men are so desperate.” Richard whispered.

Charlie glanced behind them again to the group of women that was dispersing as they headed to gather their own lunch servings from the canteen, a few held back by some of the pilots or ground crew who were trying to chat them up with flattery. His eyes found the source of a soft laugh that seemed to echo through the hall: a thin framed brunette girl with her hair in tight ringlets that sat messy over her head from her flying helmet that was dangling from her fingers.

Richard followed his best friend’s gaze across the hall when he realized his attempt at conversation was falling upon deaf ears, a small smirk playing at his lips when he saw what Charlie was staring at. He turned back to his best friend and nudged his shoulder, “Go talk to her.”

“What? No.” Charles said quickly and turned back to his lunch. “Everyone else already is. I won’t make any difference.

Richard frowned and looked back towards the crowd by the entrance to the mess hall, watching as the girl politely declined the advances of the man speaking to her and she headed their way towards the canteen.

Charles tried not to stare but the guys weren’t wrong – it had been a while since they had seen any sort of woman and this one in particular really seemed to catch his eye – and he watched discreetly as she walked past their table, her messy curls bouncing, and she pulled her leather gloves off with her teeth and tucked them in the pocket of her royal blue uniform jacket. She approached the canteen to get a serving of lunch with a few of the other girls from the Air Transport Auxiliary.

“Go say hi.” Richard pressed.

“No.” Charlie said under his breath, ducking his head back to his lunch. “She won’t want me anyway.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course, she will.” Richard scoffed.

Charlie just shrugged, scrapping the bottom of his tin with his fork anxiously. His best friend sighed and turned back to the women again. Richard was always the shyer of the two but when it came to Charlie, he did get a little bolder. Bold enough to stand up and raise his hand to the group of three women searching for a spot to sit.

“We have empty seats here.” Richard offered sweetly, his youthful face and wide smile making the girls smile with relief as to not have to sit with some strange desperate older men and suffer through flirtatious and borderline risqué comments. Charlie smacked his best friend in annoyance as he sat back down. Richard only smiled at him innocently.

“Hello.” the young woman smiled at them, sitting herself down right across from Charlie.

“Hi.” he replied softly, ducking his shy smile back to his obviously empty lunch but still scraped his fork along the side regardless.

She unbuttoned her jacket and draped it over the metal table with her helmet and gloves, leaving her in her white button-up and black tie. She held out her hand to Charlie, “I’m Mary.”

He glanced up at her and then took her handshake, “Charlie.”

The other two girls busied themselves talking with Richard while Mary’s eyes dropped to the name tag sewn into Charlie’s breast of his jacket reading his surname.

“Seavey. You aren’t Evelyn’s brother by chance?” Mary asked.

Charlie’s entire face rose into a grinning smile at the mention of his sister, “Yeah. I am.”

“Oh, that’s marvelous. She was going around telling all of us this morning to keep an eye out for you. I’m sure a few more girls are going to come over to pass on the message before we head back.” Mary chuckled.

“How is she? Does she look okay?” Charlie questioned without thinking; it was habit.

“I mean I just met the girl today but I think she looked just fine. Quite chipper despite the raging war we’re facing.”

“That’s Ev for you.” Charlie said, his sad but loving smile not faltering from his face.

One of the girls butted in, “Mary, have you seen Ellie since we landed?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh goodness. I hope she didn’t hit a balloon.”

Richard and Charlie’s eyes went wide at the casual suspicion of the girls’ teammate blowing herself up mid-flight. It was nothing they themselves weren’t unfamiliar with but they didn’t expect the women to be familiar with it.

“Do you…see casualties often?” Richard asked.

“Not too often but it’s inevitable. It’s a warzone after all so we’re never safe in the skies…you two certainly understand that.” Mary said as she took a bite of her lukewarm lunch. “But it’s terribly exciting to fly.”

“Isn’t it?” Richard grinned. “I love it.”

“There’s something so peaceful about being up there even if it’s also incredibly dangerous.”

“It’s like you’re the kings of the clouds.” Charlie said.

“And we’ll be the queens of the clouds.” Mary winked sweetly at him.

Richard smirked at his best friend’s blushing cheeks.

When lunch was finished, the girls had to start to head to the trucks that would drive them back to the city and Richard and Charlie walked out with their small group of new friends. There was still some time before they had to leave so they chatted on the tarmac for a bit, Richard seeming to make the other two girls laugh easily which surprised the usually shy boy but he basked in it. He cracked a few jokes and told a few stories and the girls were hanging onto his every word – but mostly just staring at him and his messy brown hair and sparkling grey eyes, the proud spitting image of his father.

“Come with me.” Mary grabbed Charlie’s arm and led him towards the lineup of planes that were resting outside the garage and they passed a few before she took him up to a specific one she seemed to have in mind.

She let go of his arm to climb up onto the wing and Charlie watched with awe as she so easily opened the cockpit and hopped in. He stepped closer to lean over the edge of the plane to see what she was trying to show him: a little scratch mark on the window ledge. At nearly 6’ tall, Charlie only had to raise onto his tiptoes to get a clear view of the initials etched messily into the metal.

MLT – ATA

“What’s that?” Charlie asked.

“’Mary Lois Thompson, Air Transport Auxiliary’. I flew this one over today and thought I’d brand it a little.” she giggled.

“So you’re showing me your crime?” Charlie raised an eyebrow at her.

Mary smiled over at him, “No, I’m showing you because I want you to have my lucky plane.”

“Your lucky plane? You flew it for one afternoon.”

“Oh my goodness, you are seriously no fun at banter.” Mary tisked as she climbed out of the cockpit and jumped right back onto the tarmac. She was much shorter compared to him and Charlie had to nearly look down at her when she stood in front of him. “It flies marvellously well and it has something none of the others do.”

“Or you could be tricking me into flying the worst plane just so I crash.”

“Why would I want the RAF’s most handsome pilot to crash?” she tisked, an innocent little smirk on her face that only grew when his eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed pink and he turned to the ground shyly.

“Mary! It’s time to go!” one of her friends called across the base.

“That’s my cue.” Mary took a step back to head after her group.

Charlie grabbed her hand to stop her, “W-Will I ever see you again?”

Mary smiled at him and leaned up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m sure you will. Write to the factory and address it to me,” she nodded towards the plane, “you know my name.”

Charlie nodded and let her hand slip out of his as he watched her walk away. He stepped out from behind the row of planes to follow her all the way down the tarmac and to the trucks that were waiting with the rest of the women to head back towards the city. Richard was still standing at the end of the row of planes and he looked back to his best friend with a smile and rushed over to him.

“Did you kiss her?” he asked quickly.

Charlie shook his head, biting back his bashful grin, “No.”

“Why not?!” Richard smacked his shoulder. “She was obviously interested in you.”

“I’m going to write her first.” Charlie smiled lightly and then turned to his best friend, “Besides, even if I did kiss her, why would I tell you?”

“I’m your best friend! Known you our whole lives! You best be telling me, you bastard!” Richard gasped and gave him a shove, just making Charles laugh.

Taglist: @randomlimelightxxx​ @hopinglimelight​ @jonahlovescoffee​ @hiya-its-amber​ @chanelwonders​

[ordinaryschmuck]

Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-4th Place

To anyone who plans on making a reboot of their favorite show in the future, you might want to take notes on this next pick. Because if you ask me, this next series that I'm going to talk about is the best example of how to do a reboot properly.

#4-Ducktales (2017-2021)

The Plot: Scrooge McDuck is the richest duck in the world, who made it big by also being one of the greatest adventurers of all time...ten years ago. Sadly, after an unfortunate accident with the family, Scrooge is forced to live the life of a normal businessman-er-duck. Up until Donald Duck asks Scrooge to watch over his nephews: Huey, Dewey, and Louie. What starts off as a single day of babysitting soon turns into a life of adventure as Scrooge gets back into the adventuring spirit to show his new family what the world really has to offer.

Now I want to make one thing clear: As of the moment of me writing this review, I have seen a total of zero episodes of the original Ducktales. That being said, despite my limited knowledge of the series, I still think it’s fair of me to point out how this is hands down the best reboot as of late (and I’ll explain more as to why that is later). And besides, from what I’ve heard from fans who have watched the original, Ducktales (2017) is a pretty faithful adaptation of the beloved franchise. The reason is that I believe this show remembers the two most important rules of making a reboot.

The first rule of a reboot is to try something new while still being faithful to the source material. Doing something like that is simple as a writer just needs to keep what the fans love and change what they hated. And trust me when I say that the writers of Ducktales (2017) knows how to do just that. For the most part, the show is about a family going on crazy globe-trotting adventures while still learning that family is the best adventure of all, much like the original. As for the characters, most of them keep their fun personalities. Scrooge is still a stingy miser with the heart for adventure, Launchpad is still the lovable idiot who can’t fly a plane, and Donald Duck still remains the one who gets stuck with all the bad luck. Then some characters have their personalities/roles revamped into something that improves upon the original. The best example is Fenton, who is still the wannabe superhero but is now a scientist in this show, wherein the old one was just Scrooge’s accountant. This way, both the hero and the man-DUCK-who’s behind the mask are equally capable of saving the day. There’s also Mrs. Beakley, who was originally a nanny that nagged Scrooge’s ear off for putting the kids in danger. In the reboot, she’s treated more as the anchor of reality to the more oddball characters, who also used to be a kick-butt super spy in her younger years. It is still the same role, but a different interpretation.

Now, some characters receive grand changes to their original personalities. But from what I’ve heard, those changes are made for the better. And there are no characters that need it more than the children. More specifically, Huey, Dewey, and Louie. This show does something that I’m eternally grateful for, and that’s giving each of these three their own distinct personalities and quirks. For years I couldn’t for the life of me tell the triplets apart. They had the same design, the same voice, the same personality, and the only difference people had to go off of are their different colors (which really didn’t do much to help). Here, they have different designs, voices, and now defining character traits for each of them. Huey is the smart and responsible boy scout, Dewey is the annoying attention seeker, and Louie is the best character in the entire show, and I WILL FREAKING FIGHT YOU ON THAT! And let us not forget the most appreciated change: Webby. From what I’ve heard, fans hated the original Webby, as she was nothing more than just the stereotypical girl of the group. Here, she’s given an actual personality and a fun one to boot. Webby is the ecstatic thrill-seeking adventurer who is skilled in combat training (thanks to her grandma) and is (of course) a socially awkward girl who wants to make friends. Like I said, this show took the idea that the fans hated and changed it into something that they’ll love. Which makes sense why the writers mastered this because they themselves are real fans of the show.

It is clear how much the writers are fans of the Ducktales franchise as they filled Ducktales (2017) with many references. And not just references to the original series but also references to the classic comics by Carl Barks and even the NES video game from the 1980s (seriously, this show will make you feel things about the “Moon Theme” you wouldn’t think was possible!). Even the show’s animation seems to be a homage to both the cartoon and comics. Not only do the characters and backgrounds have a more comic book style to them, but the characters also work on a mix of realistic and cartoony logic. And let me just say, it is refreshing to see characters in a Disney show have cartoon logic to them since Wander Over Yonder got canceled. And it’s not just Ducktales that the series reference, but even classic Disney movies (of course) and other shows in the Disney Afternoon lineup. And when it comes to these references, it’s more than just a subtle wink to the fans. The writers actually go out of their way to write a story around these beloved characters, so people who don’t get the joke won’t be one-hundred percent lost. For instance, without giving anything away, the writers found a brilliant way to reintroduce Darkwing Duck in this universe that feels right for this famous character. And if you ask me personally, these are the best ways to handle references for a reboot. Make them work within the story, even if you don’t fully get the joke.

This brings me to the second most important rule of a reboot: Make a quality product even though it is based on something else. Let us pretend that the original never existed. Would Ducktales (2017) still be as good as it is now? Personally, as a person who has never seen the original, I think it is.

This is another show that mixes slice of life episodes with adventure ones, similar to My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. And just like Friendship is Magic, both are equally interesting because the characters themselves make them so. No matter what situation the Duck Family are in, the audience will care about it because the characters care about it. In fact, I think Ducktales (2017) handles the mix of slice of life and adventure much better than Friendship is Magic. In MLP: FiM, the adventure-based episodes force the characters to stick to their simple personality traits to move the story forward, and character-based ones help them grow. In Ducktales (2017), because the characters regularly go on adventures, they grow as characters no matter the situation. For example, my favorite episode is “The Great Dime Chase” where the main plot is Louie finding Scrooge’s #1 dime after accidentally spending it. While in that same episode, Dewey and Webby try to solve a mystery around the boys’ mom. We get a great lesson about the importance of hard work and a fascinating plot of an overarching mystery within the season, all taking place within the same episode. Both are interesting, neither feels as though it overshadows the other, and the characters develop along the way.

Another thing this show mixes well is comedy and drama. A lot of shows recently tried way too hard to find that perfect mix. Ducktales (2017) is one of the few examples that nails it. The comedy is hilarious, the drama is endearing, and neither feels like it’s prioritized over the other. The show starts off with this mix as well, where others that I’ve talked about seem to start off as purely comedic only to take themselves more seriously later on. That isn’t entirely a bad thing, but I feel as though Ducktales (2017) is the best way to go about the method. That way, fans won’t be complaining about how much “better” the show used to be in its first batch of episodes, much like Star V.S. the Forces of Evil.

Unfortunately, while I recommend this show, it’s not without its fair share of issues. Or rather, issue, as there really is only one problem I have with it. And that problem can be summed up with one name: Dewey Duck. For the most part, I dislike Dewy. Because he’s nothing more than a Ben Schwarts character. No disrespect to Ben Schwarts himself, but lately, it feels as though he only plays the one character from time to time: The egotistical attention seeker slowly and surely learning to be a better person who realizes that not everything is about him. That’s the character he plays in both Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Sonic the Hedgehog (2020), and it’s the character he plays here. And the thing about these characters is that they’re not as lovable as Ben Schwarts thinks they sound. In fact (and, again, I mean no disrespect to the actor. I’m sure he’s a lovely person in real life), every single one of these characters comes off as kind of annoying rather than as the lovable rapscallions I’m sure they’re meant to be. However, there is one thing worth mentioning about Dewey. While he’s portrayed as annoying when used for comedy, Dewey is surprisingly a compelling character when used for drama. The thing is, he’s rarely used for dramatic moments and is meant as a source of comedy. Hence why I said I disliked him for the most part.

Other than that, there aren’t really that many problems with the show. Well, there are, but they’re mostly nitpicks that the series more than makes up for. Is it weird that the kids are voiced by adults? Yes, but the actors do a great job at being sincere and have great comedic timing than any kid could have. Are there changes to characters that fans might not enjoy? Probably, but I have yet to have seen anyone that has annoyed me as much as Dewey has. Are the villains just evil for the sake of being evil? Yes, but that’s not really a big deal. In fact, a villain doesn’t need a heartbreaking backstory as to why they’ve become so evil. They just need to have a great personality that’s fun to watch, which every villain in the show has (aside from season two’s antagonist who’s basically a Disney surprise villain. And I hate them with a fiery passion). Does it feel as though the show suffers from “too many characters” syndrome? It sometimes does, but each character has such a fun and unique personality that I find it hard to forget most of them.

So really, Ducktales (2017) is the best reboot in recent memory. This is crazy, seeing as how lately it feels as though Disney doesn’t even know how to properly reboot their own movies to save their lives. This is why I feel as though people should take notes on what Ducktales (2017) does if they ever feel like rebooting something they loved as a kid. Because this is more than just a retelling of the same story that people know by heart. This is a fantastic show with even better characters, stories, and tone. Whether you’ve been a fan since the beginning, or a part of the new generation of viewers, odds are you’ll be screaming Whoo-Ooo with every episode.

(Also, a word of warning to those who haven’t watched the show yet: Beware the theme song. Trust me when I say it’ll be stuck in your head until the day you die)

[toarmsrw]

How I feel a Ronin Warriors Remake could go

Ronin Warriors AKA Yoroiden Samurai Troopers was one of my favorite anime back in the day. I first heard of this series when it was airing on UPN TV 44, the same channel that had aired Sailor Moon when it was being produced by DIC entertainment. Unfortunately, this series aired during times when it’s target range viewers were in school so it didn’t have a particularly long run on US TV. It was only years later that this series would air on the Toonami lineup and gained a greater interest from American anime fans than it had during its first airing.

Currently Samurai Troopers is celebrating its 30th anniversary and it made me wonder, what this series would be like if remade for the more current age. After all, the main TV series was set in 1988 and a lot of things reflected that time period. Now in 2020 things can be updated to match current settings and technology.

I’m familiar with both the Japanese Names and the English Dub names. But I’m going to use English Dub names here as it was the version that introduced me to this series.

As much as I love the original series, I do feel that it is certainly deserving of an updated reboot. The original series did have a number of moments where they were constrained by budget and it showed. Budget cuts, and repeating animation is a common way of cuting corners in animation in varius series, but it is rather obvious when you see the animation cheepen.

There are some things in the anime itself that did bug me because they felt rushed or they came off as unrealistic. I’m not an expert in Japanese culture so please understand if I am approaching these things with a bit of a bias.

One of the things that bothered me is having the five warriors are just open to working together from the start.

For example in the first episode Mia is surprised that all five Ronin have appeared at the same time and then is dismayed that they aren’t united. So she tells the five Ronin they need to work together if they hope to beat the Dynasty, and they all look at one another as though saying “Um…what?”.

The English dub does give the impression that there is at least some familiarity between the five boys. However, in the original version all five of the Ronin are from different parts of Japan and this is the first time any of them have met.

The one thing I’ve always liked in anime is when the main cast is free to grow and understand each other at their own pace.

While having the main warriors joining forces is ideal and an inevitably, having them all partner up from the start is unrealistic. Particularly since the five Ronin do develop an almost familial unity with one another over the course of the series.

An anime with a similar concept to this would be Sailor Moon. Please note I’m not comparing Sailor Moon to this series for bias reasons. Sailor Moon certainly had a larger production budget and more of a story to adapt to as it started out as a manga before it became an anime series. Ronin Warriors is it’s own story and it also has some things it is better at conveying then Sailor Moon did.

I am using Sailor Moon as an example, because these two series do center on the plot of five teenagers drawn together to save the world from an otherworldly evil force.  

Sailor Moon as a series was able to introduce the characters gradually.

The series begins with introducing the titular character, Sailor Moon herself. The first handful of episodes follow her, then Sailor Mercury is introduced and she assists in battles for a couple episodes. Then Sailor Mars is brought in and a sizable chunk of the series centers on these three warriors stopping the forces of the Dark Kingdom. Then around half way through the first season Sailor Jupiter is brought in as another member of the group and then finally Sailor Venus.

Other Sailor Soldiers such as the Outer Sailors and the Sailor Star Lights are introduced in the continuing seasons. These groups don’t really involve themselves with Sailor Moon and her companions right away.  They do assist in battles at times, but they would also make it clear that they don’t want Sailor Moon and her allies interfering with their goals. Eventually the groups do choose to join forces, but that is only when they have come to the realization that the only way to take on the main foe was to merge groups.

The way this story is set up all five warriors needed to be introduced right away. However, I find having them join forces from the start is a little rushed.  Now, granted they had some idea they all knew the fate of the world rested on their backs and they were given the mystical armor to help them save their world, their homes, the people they love.

Each of them also have a story passed through the years about an armor that their family has watched over. Like many things these stories have faded from memory with some of the families or they don’t have anyone to tell them about the amor legend. So they discover their armors through other sources.

For example, Whiteblaze, Ryo’s tiger companion, is is the familiar of the Ancient One and chose Ryo as the one who will bear the Armor of Wildfire. Whiteblaze led the Ancient One to Ryo, so he could be trained in its use.

While each of the Ronin would have unconsciously or unknowingly been trained since childhood to become ready for their armors. It is the armors themselves that do draw them together initially.  That wouldn’t stop at least some of them from be reluctant in working together and then have at least a couple episodes where they warm up to if not become downright convinced working together is the only way

Cye and Kento are chummy and open hearted so I can see these two being more open to the idea of working together as a team from the start.  

Sage, Ryo, and Rowen on the other hand might be less open to working as a group.

Ryo is not absolutely against working as a team, but he is a loaner, he is also fiercely protective of those around him. He doesn’t want anyone to be hurt for him or because of him, so he has a tendency to place burdens upon himself such as going off to face enemies on his own without his friends. So I feel he would just tell the other Ronin to go home and protect their families, while he would deal with the Dynasty on his own.

Sage is more likely to be the lone wolf. He does have a guarded personality and doesn’t warm up to people all that easily. He wants to rely on himself and his own power rather than depending on others, but has his own doubts and fears that he unconsciously deals with. So when Sage leaves the group he would tell everyone else they would only slow him down and get in his way.

Rowen would be more on the fence regarding allegiances. His guiding virtue is wisdom so he would know or at least see how working together would be beneficial going forward. But much like Ryo he is used to being alone. However, due to his intelligence,  Rowen does have problems with socialization. So he wouldn’t say anything in regards to why he doesn’t want to work together with anyone else…he just leaves.

As the series progresses the battles will force the Ronin together. It would start with them merging into groups of two, so Cye and Kento would become one group. Rowen and Sage would also grow to work together and leads to the four of them joining forces before reuniting with Ryo. These encounters will enable them to gradually get to know each other and understand who they are in the battle to save the mortal world and their reasons for fighting in the battles against the Dynasty.

Another thing that bugged me was how the Dynasty depended on divide and conquer as a strategy. Granted the Ronin can be a challenging force when they are together. Still each of the Ronin are also dangerous on their own, particularly since their armors do gain strength and power as they fight.

Three of the Warriors have families with siblings, and both Ryo and Rowen have parental figures who may not be present in their lives but still matter.  Heck, Kento alone would have had family affected when the Dynasty captured everybody in the Tokyo area.

One of the Warlords has power over illusion. Have the Ronin given illusions of their loved ones in the Dynasty’s possession. This would be even more poignant when the Ronin have entered the Dynasty’s strong hold. Have the Ronin ready to deal with whatever the Dynasty would throw at them, then suddenly a scream is heard which Sage, Cye, or Kento could recognize as one of their loved ones.

Or Kento’s family for instance, show them among the humans imprisoned in the Dynasty. Kento has a fierce temper, particularly when someone he cares about is being harmed so that could trigger him to act rashly.

I’ve never really liked how the families of the Ronin are only limited to the supplemental materials such as the Audio dramas, Light Novels and such.

Another thing Sailor Moon did well is how it balanced out the home lives of the main cast along with their lives as Sailor Soldiers. We don’t need to see the families of all the characters, but even a simple mention can be used to add to how the main characters relate to each other and feel more well rounded over the course of the series. But they still had to maintain secrecy about their lives as Sailor Soldiers from their loved ones.

What Ronin Warriors was able to achieve is to suggest the families of the five warriors do have some knowledge about the armors. Or at the very least have some familiarity with the story of a legendary armor that has passed down through their line for the past thousand years.

Such as Cye’s mother saying “At last it has come” when he informed her of finding his armor.

Each of the Ronin also have attributes that mark them as chosen or destined to wear the armors since birth. In most cases these attributes aren’t outwardly visible

Ryo-Encountered Whiteblaze at a young age and holds a companionship with the white tiger and was personally trained by the Ancient One himself.  It’s not emphasized, but it is possible he has a sensitivity to cold temperatures as he has a strong dislike for flavored ice and lukewarm baths.

Cye: Able to swim to vast depths of water without needing an air tank.

He also has an affinity for sea based creatures. He isn’t able to talk to them or anything like that, but there is an orca and a number of other sea creatures that do recognize him as a friend.

Kento: No displayed or attributed traits aside from being strong and hard headed. Possibly has more physical endurance then his companions.

Rowen: He is physically marked by his armor because of his blue hair. And also he has an IQ of 250.

Sage: Physically marked by his armor because he physically represents his armor element of light.

While each of the Ronin are chosen by their armors or from a force associated with the armors. There is still a test they need to undergo to prove they understand the guiding virtue associated with the armor.

With Sailor Moon there were moments where the family members of the Sailor Soldiers or people they know are affected by the evil forces at play. With the Ronin however, having people know about their armor or their identities as Ronin Warriors does lead to tragic results.

It’s generally an unstated rule among the five warriors to not to involve their loved ones or allow any knowledge of their existence as Ronin Warriors. Since that would only cause needless danger or cause their loved ones to become targeted by the evil forces they are facing.

The families of the Ronin themselves aren’t completely required, after all the five Ronin do become a family of brothers themselves. And at its core, the entire story of the Ronin Warriors is a romantic story centered on a brotherhood forged by blood, sweat,and tears in the battle to save humanity. The trueborn families of each of the Ronin, would just be an extension of that bond they share with each other.

I’ve always seen each of the five warriors as wounded in various ways. Some have known personal loss, but there are those among them who have experienced pain, loneliness, isolation, self-doubts, and other things such as that.

In the Message OVA in particular, brings a lot of this into view as the five warriors do have internal monologues about their experiences as Ronin Warriors and how that has affected them personally.

Cye in particular during his monologue talks about how he personally didn’t want to fight, but he still took up arms in the war against Dynasty anyway because he felt there was like there was little choice in the matter. He also questions whether he even deserved the power of his armor to begin with.

“In order to avoid pain, suffering, and fear human bearings aspire to collect all the power that they can, then they cling to it no matter what. I was no different, I felt exactly the same way. I never wanted to fight though, I thought my destiny followed a different course. Could I have resisted this power? Could I have denied it? Even if someone had realized the truth, we still wouldn’t have had any other options. It was fight or die, none of us had any regrets for what we did…in staying alive. But that didn’t change the fact that *I* didn’t want to fight!”

The armors they each possess were forged from evil, but were created to be a force for good. As such the armors themselves are neither good or evil, but both. It was the heart and soul of their bearers that determined what choices they made in using the armors they were given.

While they all have seen the negative side of humanity and what it can do if left unchecked. They are also able to know that there is still enough human goodness to believe it was worth saving. And while they still fought and were motivated by their own own personal desires to protect those nearest and dearest to them. The companionship they forge in the fires of war is what heals the wounds each of them carry. Even then there is resistance and pain in being healed, but it is part of becoming the people they know they are because of it. While other hidden wounds are exposed because of the battles faced.

With Ronin Warriors and their families, Ryo and Rowen are the only children of their respective family and their respective parental figures aren’t around all that often.

Ryo’s father is a photojournalist and is always away on assignment but he does send money to cover Ryo’s living expenses.

Rowen’s parents divorced when he was twelve but even before then both of them were more married to their careers then they were as a family. The times they were home their minds would still be work oriented.

However, having two Ronin with workaholic parents just feels boring. Having Ryo being an orphan could translate into why he is so protective of his companions and why they mean so much to him. Because Ryo regards the other Ronin, Mia, and Yuli as a surrogate family to him, and he would gladly fight and give his life to protect them for that reason. He nearly dies just trying to get Sage and Rowen back after the five of them are seperated. And during the war when all the Ronin with the exception of Ryo are absorbed by Talpa, he is devastated knowing each of them are gone. In the Japanese version he says “You fools, how dare you die for me.” This is later expanded upon when the four of them are able to use their Spirits to take hold of Talpa’s armor and tell him to strike the demon emperor down while they have him restrained. And Ryo refuses to do it because doing so meant killing his friends as well.

Rowen has a detached, mature demeanor that is underscored by the fact he is the youngest member of the Ronin. He’s often viewed and treated like an adult by people around him when he really is just a kid. Since he is so used to living for his own convenience, he has trouble really understanding what actually means to have friends or even what having a present family is like. So that could be something that could be explored with his character in how he relates to the other Ronin.

He generally gets along with all the Ronin, but will at times (often unintentionally) say or do something that might have annoyed or exasperated reactions. For example in the Tenkuden CD Drama, there is a part where Yuli asks Rowen for assistance on a problem in his math homework. Rowen looks at the problem and says “That’s easy, you must have skipped the day they were teaching it.” Yuli then goes and asks Cye for assistance who is able to help him figure out the answer. After Yuli runs off to continue his homework. Cye turns to Rowen and chidingly says “Just because you find something simple, doesn’t mean it’s the same for others.”  

Rowen’s father is someone who wouldn’t really be included as a character. I’ve always had the impression that he generally isn’t really all that present even on the occasions he does return home to the apartment he shares with his son.

Rowen’s mother on the other hand could work as an occasional character. However she comes across as a bit too much to handle. She’s friendly and well-meaning but has boisterous energy that is difficult to really take in all at once. The five Ronin and Mia first meet her in the Tenkuden CD Drama after Rowen receives a voice mail call from her telling him he will be arriving at Narita International on Such and Such date. And every one automatically is like “Great Idea, let’s all go meet Rowen’s mother”.  

As much as he does care about both his parental figures, I did get the impression he is embarrassed by his mother as well.

For example, the first act of Tenkuden actually does involve Rowen waiting with Sage at the airport terminal for Rowen’s mother to arrive. After they encounter her, Rowen’s mother runs off to go make a phone call.  Sage then remarks “Okay, that IS different” to which Rowen sighs and says “You got it.” Funnily enough, every time I had heard that exchange in the past I’ve always visualized Rowen holding up a sign that says “Shoot Me” afterward.

So if Rowen’s mother appears at all it would be a humorous one-shot episode where the armors aren’t really needed. There can be some dramatic moments as well though. Since TenkuDen is also the moment where Rowen learns his armor has the ability to fly. There is also a moment at the end of the CD where Rowen’s mother pulls her son aside and alludes that she saw him in his armor hovering outside of the window of the airplane she was traveling in. But she assumes the whole thing was just a dream.

When it comes to Kento, Sage, and Cye they are the eldest, middle, and youngest siblings of each of their respective families. So the familial dynamic of the Ronin will be something they can easily adapt to, but still, give them a different dynamic that can challenge and affect them.

Cye is the youngest child in his family, but he is the oldest of the five Ronin. So this puts him in a sort of older sibling role in some ways. He doesn’t need to adapt too much, particularly since Mia already plays an older sister role with the five Ronin. And his older sister Sayoko had more or less served a parental role of sorts in his late father’s absence. He’s also the only Ronin who is actually living away from his family, as he has an apartment in Tokyo where he lives alone while he is attending high school. In one of the Cassette Dramas Rowen has a habit of visiting Mia’s grandfather’s mansion so he could read the books there. Unfortunately when he does this he loses all track of time and frequently misses the last train back to Kansai. So he has to end up couch surfing over at Cye’s apartment much to the Torrent Armor bearers irritation.

Cye’s family is more likely to be included as part of a dramatic storyline.  

For instance, Cye’s mother has heart disease and is frequently in ill health, but she still runs her family and her family’s pottery business until her daughter Sayoko can take over.

Sayoko is ten years older then Cye and has also been an influential figure in Cye’s life. She helps look after their mother and their families pottery shop.

Ryuusuke Shizuka is Sayoko’s fiance and works at the Hagi Marine Research Institute. After meeting Cye he chooses to marry into Cye’s family. Sayoko and Ryuusuke are supposedly married by the final OVA of this series..

One of the cassette dramas has Cye returning to Hagi after learning his mother had fallen ill. Kento accompanies him on the trip, however the only reason he’s going is because he mistakenly thought Hagiyaki was a kind of food. It’s this Drama where Cye is introduced to his sister’s finance.  

Kento is the oldest child in his family, and so he is well used to playing the older brother role among his siblings. As the second youngest member of the Ronin he has the freedom to be a younger brother. Still when it comes to his companions, the protective brother instinct will still be a present part of his personality over all.

Kento is also the most inclusive of the Ronin and does consider his friends to be like his family.  

I can see Kento’s family being used in heart warming slice-of-life plots. Kento just feels like one of those people you meet in life who just adopts you into their family. As much as he would make disparaging comments about the number of people in his household, in all honesty he wouldn’t have it any other way.

During the Tsuki CD Drama, following their final battle with Saranbo. Kento realizes they are near Yokohama and starts inviting his friends to his family’s restaurant only to be shot down and scolded for being too carefree. After Kento storms off he has a monologue where he states about how much he loves the town of Yokohama and his family and he the reason he fights is all for them. That’s why he wanted his friends to meet his family, to show his companions they are just like family to him.  

That is something I can certainly see happening in an updated version of this series. With Ryo and Rowen, Kento would want to include them so they can at least know what a loving family was like. Knowing Cye and Sage are away from their respective homes. I can see Kento making an effort to make them feel there is something like a family there for them.

Cye might welcome the idea since he understands Kento is wanting to include them as part of his family.

Sage might not be so open about it. Not because he doesn’t understand Kento’s reasoning for it. He however would firmly point out that their family lives and their lives as Ronin should be two different things. Kento would be upset it’s only later on that he would realize Sage’s reasoning.

During the times when they are not involved with fighting the Dynasty. I can see Kento dropping by Cye’s apartment with take out now and again. This would later extend to Ryo when he starts living in the city.

Of the Ronin, I see him learning his family was affected by the Dynasty because Yokohama is in the Tokyo area. He is the only one of the five who would have had immediate loved ones in the vicinity of the Dynasty’s first attack . Which would make the battle to stop the Dynasty all the more personal for him.

Sage is the middle child of his family, but both of his siblings are his sisters. His older sister Yayoi and his younger sister Satsuki. He cares about both of them and would defend them to his last breath, though Yayoi does have a bit of a contentious past with him as she is the reason he is uncomfortable around women.  

Sage’s family is a family I can see included dramatic storylines, but wholesome ones as well.

When it comes to Sage’s family there is a lot you could work with. I will start with Sage’s sisters since I’ve seen a number of interpretations regarding them. In fanfics Yayoi often ranges between being an entitled sister up to just being an evil abusive witch. I have been guilty of this view myself.

Thinking back on it, I wonder if fans were blowing her relationship with Sage out of proportion.

Yayoi is five years older than Sage. From the basic description of her she is in essence a female version of her younger brother as she does talk in the same formal manner he does, and is also a talented kendo fighter.  She is a medical student and is attending college during the TV series.

The worst thing she’s known to have done to tease her brother is to use him as a dress up doll when they had been younger. She also still possesses a picture of him with ribbons in his hair.

This is largely just kid stuff, still some actions as innocent as they may seem can have a negative affect. In this case, Sage is uncomfortable talking to or being around girls as a result.

Women also tend to hold power in Sage’s family, meaning the female members of his family do hold sway in the decisions and actions of the Date House. Because of this they are highly respected. The only male who is an exception to this would be Sage’s Grandfather who is the current head of the family.  Yayoi was likely able to get away with tormenting her brother the way she has, because she knew if he retaliated in any way he would be the one who would be punished.  

In later years, Yayoi may have realized what she actually was doing, but by then the damage had already been done. So while the picture she still has of him with ribbons could be something she could threaten her brother with. It’s also just as possible that perhaps the reason Yayoi keeps the photo, is to remind herself of what she has done to hurt her younger brother in the past.

She seems to have some moments where she does make an attempt establishing a better relationship with him. Such as when Sage was beginning elementary the light color of his eyes made him appear cold and intimidating, because of this his schoolmates would often cry when they saw him. It was Yayoi who suggested he cover one of them with his hair so schoolmates wouldn’t be so scared of him.

Also In the Yoroi Guiden novel, the day Sage received his armor he had been forced into a match against another Kendo practitioner known as Shingo Kazamatsuri. During the match Shingo attempts to cheat by throwing sand or something into Sage’s eyes. Due to one eye being covered by his hair, only his visible eye had affected. Angered that his opponent would resort to cheating, Sage goes into a blind rage and attacks Shingo, rendering him unconscious. While her brother is being punished for his actions, Yayoi tends to Shingo’s injuries. Which made her one of the first people to learn what had taken place. She then tells Shingo that he was fortunate he didn’t lose a limb after making her brother that mad.

I can see Yayoi gaining friendship with Mia, and through that she and Sage could begin to heal the rift that exists between them.

Satsuki is younger than Sage by two years. She is the only member of Sage’s immediate family who doesn’t have any interest in the family Dojo and the only one who speaks casually. I see Sage in some ways being somewhat envious of his younger sister, because she possesses a freedom he isn’t able to have within their family. But he also values that she is able to have such freedom as well.

I’ve seen her placed with Rowen or Kento as possible romantic interests. Personally, I just see Satsuki just viewing the other Ronin as additional brothers. She knows her brother doesn’t have many friends and wouldn’t want to become a catalyst in causing him to lose his companions. Hints at romantic interest could be there, but at best she would just be a sister figure.

Sage’s family life on the other hand is where things take on a more dramatic turn. As I’ve stated before that each of the Ronin have attributes that mark them as chosen by their armors. Sage and Rowen are the only ones who have physical attributes that mark their connection to their armor.

Anyone who is familiar with anime and manga lore would know hair color has specific meaning. Blond or yellow hair often has a variety of meanings, but the most widespread meaning is a person who is special in some manner. Often in most anime the characters would have a variety of hair color tones that no one bats an eye, despite the fact it might look a little strange aesthetically.

The only time a character’s hair color is brought up as peculiar is if the story itself wants it to be  something that is meant to be seen as questionable.

Sage’s family is one of the Ronin families that is well versed in the legend of the Ronin Armor that is passed through their family. It’s never emphasized in the series, but from the sound of things in supplemental materials such as the novels, Sage is the only one in his family with his hair and eye color. This means that yes Sage was meant to physically represent the element of his armor. That would also lead to problems that Sage would have had to face growing up.

In Japanese Culture, one of the worst scarlet letters you can possess is to stand out. Sage is from a traditional family so being born representing his armors element would have raised a lot of eyebrows. I’ve seen numerous dramatic fanfictions where Sage is picked on because of his implausible hair color. I’ve also seen the word Konketsu applied to him as well in some of these fics. Konketsu means mixed-blood but it can be used as a slur that means half-breed. 

In a more modernized incarnation this traditionalist might not be used quite as often. So you can sum it up as anime logic.

While the legend of the Halo Armor is well known in the Date family, only a small fraction would believe the legend to be more than just a story.  While an even smaller fraction would recognize that Sage was born connected to the Halo Armor.  Namely Sage’s grandparents and possibly his mother.

The circumstances of Sage’s mother being chosen to provide a male heir to the Date Clan are unknown. It’s often speculated that Grandfather Date only had daughters, if there had been a boy born to their family he either died before he could prove himself as an heir. Or he was expelled from the Date Estate for some reason. Which in turn would put the burden of producing an heir on the shoulders of his sister or one of them.

Sage’s mother could be the oldest daughter, or she was deemed the one who was more likely to produce a suitable male heir.

Whatever the case may be, the Ronin are the first real friends that he’s ever had. And it’s likely that his upbringing didn’t really allow for friendships to exist in his life.

With Sage’s character bio for the original series it is stated that his grandfather was largely responsible for Sage’s upbringing. Some bios state that he was given over to his grandfather because his parents had trouble disciplining him.

Personally to me it always felt there was more to this. Grandfather Date likely would have recognized from the moment Sage was born that he was destined to bear the Halo Armor. So he would have naturally taken it upon himself to prepare Sage for when the armor would deem him worthy of it.  As well as to groom Sage for the day he would inherit their families Dojo and become the next head of the Date Clan. While he would have told Sage and also Sage’s sisters of the family legend, he would continue to let Sage believe the rigorous training he is given is all associated with being his grandfather’s successor.

While Kento is actually the wealthiest of the five Ronin, neither Kento nor Sage’s home’s are described. The best that’s given is that his family live on the outskirts of Sendai and that the Dojo is a part of it, or at least an area of the family estate that can be visited without invitation.  

Wanting to ensure his grandson was raised in a way *he* deemed fit, Grandfather Date would insist that Sage come live with him at the main house. I can imagine he was around the ages of 4-6 when this occurred. Sage’s grandfather is described as being unusually strict. Sage was also rather rambunctious at that age, so he may have believed that he must have done something bad so he was being taken away from his family as punishment.

Sage is still able to see his parents and sisters, but he would live under his grandfather’s roof at the Date Estate. Grandfather Date according to the brief description of him is said to be the walking precept of Date House, he was also a soldier in his youth he raises Sage to be the same.

The time Grandfather Date was a soldier is rather unclear, some bios he was a soldier during the Meiji Era which means he was around Sage’s age during the early 1900’s since that era ran from 1868-1912. Since this series is set in the late eighties, it is possible that he may have been in the tail end of that time period. Though I have seen bios that have said he was a soldier during the Edo Period, which would be physically impossible since that time period ended just as the Meiji era started. Logically if he was in a war at all, it would more likely be WWII.

Since Sage’s family is descended from Date Mesamune, a more logical conclusion was that Grandfather Date was trained to be like a soldier from the Edo period and raised Sage to follow those same disapplines. So this would be a bit of a reverse of what Rowen’s life is like. Where Rowen is a child who is seen and treated as an adult, Sage is a child who has his life framed with the expectation that he will act like an adult.

Perhaps Sage viewed his home life under his grandfather’s teaching as a gilded cage. Everything he needs is provided for, however there is always the sense that everything he says and does is watched and has to meet a certain expectation. If he does something that is met with disapproval it can result in a harsh punishment. The same expectations he would be expected to follow at home would also apply to his school life.

With School aside from meeting his Grandfather’s rigorous criteria, which would make it difficult for him to make friends with his schoolmates. All this of course translates into the self doubts and fears he shows at times during the war with the Dynasty.

With the Ronin Warriors, Sage would likely find himself in a bit of a conundrum. As he has actual friends for the first time in his life and not only that people he comes to see as brothers. While being raised by his grandfather and following his directive, he’s always presented himself as the persona his grandfather had expected him to have. The one thing he has never really been permitted to be is himself, and that could lead into the issues he has in events such as the Korinden CD drama.

Mia and Yuli would largely be the same, as they are in the series. Just a pair of civilians who are friends with the Ronin and understand the battles they go through. Mia would continue her grandfather’s research on the armors and assist where she can. Mostly she would be a big sister figure to the Ronin and help them figure out. In the Message OVA she does become a delegate at the United Nations. While the other Delegates are wondering about the strange things that are going on and wondering about how they were dealt with in previous events. Mia stands up and says she believes she may know what they are looking for.

To be honest, this often bugged me. I mean I like the idea of the Ronin being needed in other parts of the world aside from Japan. Still at that point, the Ronin Armors as they were originally had all been destroyed. Mia would have recognized what was going on was connected to the power of the Armors. Still telling a group of bureaucrats, a bunch of suits that believed in facts, science, and other such tangible information that everything that was going on hinged on a group of teenagers with mystical armor. I’m sorry, the only thing they will believe is that the person telling them this is insane.

All this is stuff that was demonstrated in the series and OVA so there isn’t just headcanon.

In the second episode of the series, the Japanese Self-Defence Force is deployed against Talpa’s castle in the first war, and all their efforts prove useless. The first episode also shows electronics, vehicles, and other man-made creations lose power due to the forces of Mystical energy coming from the Dynasty.  

And even if they could be convinced that the Ronin Armors were real. Talpa’s Armor was the corporeal embodiment of all human evil. Figures in places of power and authority would be anything but happy in knowing that five suits of armor are capable of wielding weapons-grade levels of mystical power even exist. And they would be even less then happy knowing these said suits of armor were given to people who are essentially children.

While the Ronin themselves know they are fighting for the good of the Mortal Realm, authority figures would argue they are just children playing with power they couldn’t possibly understand. While other people would fear hate them on the grounds that if they can use their armors for good, what was to stop them from using them for evil.

This is seen during the series where Rowen breaks Anubus’s helmet and is stunned to find that instead of a netherworld demon, Anubus was actually a human. Later on Kento is approached by Dais and told that he would become corrupted by his own armor in time. In the Dub, Kento is told that the five armors in the past had been worn by men who have used their power for their own selfish desires. In the Japanese version, Kento is told the armors were sought by people who wanted their power for themselves.  

During the Guiden OVA, Sage is believed to have become evil and is killing innocent people in New York. In the Japanese Version, Kento makes a comment about how the name of the Samurai Troopers is tarnished because one of them decided to go rogue. Which causes Rowen to look at Kento with a horrified expression.  

Later on when Rowen and Kento are confronting Sage about his actions, they find it’s not their friend but actually his armor. While the Ronin themselves don’t use their ultimate attacks because of all the civilians around them, the Police and National Guard are still brought in to try and arrest the Ronin because of the public disturbance their battle is causing.  

During Legend of the Inferno Armor, Cye is the first of the Ronin to notice the power of their Armors starting to corrupt, Each of the Ronin also eventually notice their armor becoming corrupted.

In the Message OVA Rowen does say that the armors were just as much of a curse as they were a gift. And the Ronin do comment on and fear the eventuality of losing themselves to their armors.

Worse yet, people in places of authority would use any excuse they could think of to imprison the five Ronin. They would have their armors taken to be studied and weaponized if possible.  If they can’t do that, they would force the Ronin to agree to use their armors as a superweapon against the people they want. And if they can’t do that, have them executed.

Again in the Guiden OVA, Sage is abducted and tortured for days by a Scientist working for Shikaisen so his Armor could be studied for his own personal interests. Shikaisen also used Sage’s armor to slaughter hundreds of innocent people

All of this would lead to Talpa reforming himself and starting the cycle of the Ronin armors once again.

In the Guiden OVA, after Shikaisen merges with the Scientists computer, he does become a figure that resembles Talpa.

Message OVA,The Ronin all get this sense that their battles against the Dynasty are repeating itself. Rowen comes across a play written in the Edo Period depicting their fights against the Dynasty and sends it to Ryo.  

Since the Ronin are destined to be Warriors until the day they die, The Ronin are just best off as being guardian figures who watch the humans and protect humans from afar. Mia can open her mansion to allow the Ronin to live there as permanent house guests, or just give them the house so they all can live there at their leisure.

The new armors they recieve at the end of the Message OVA aren’t tainted with Talpa’s evil since Suzunagi’s mother she placed love in the corner of them. So they don’t act as a becon that attracts beings of evil from the Netherworld Given this the Ronin themselves could spread the teachings of the Ancient One by creating a new Legend of the Ronin Armor. 

It could start with Sage talking to his grandfather about expanding their families Dojo. Or at the very least telling his Grandfather he will not inherit the Dojo as it stands, but instead will recreate it. So instead of teaching Kendo alone it will include Archery, Swordfighting, Kungfu, meditation, and other forms of martial and spiritual arts. The other Ronin would be brought in as instructors to lead these various class all the while instilling the Anicent Ones teachings about not giving into the sinister urges of man kind. And when needed the Ronin would don their armors and face the forces from the neather world who seek to destroy the peace they have created. 

Eventually the time will come where they feel they have played their role in protecting the world, and hand the Dojo over to Yuli or at least someone they know would look after things and carry on the legend of the five armors. 

Once they have their affairs in order, they could make the choice to enter the Netherworld. This will be a tragic choice as a year in the Netherworld is a hundred years in the human world. So the Ronin would be making the choice to leave their families and loved ones behind. But they do this knowing that when they are needed they will return, and in time choose worthy successors to bear their armors. 

Yuli in an updated version would be a somewhat tragic case following the first war. During the series Yuli seems to stay with the Ronin and Mia indefinitely and is able to travel to distant countries at a moments notice. He sees all the Ronin as adoptive brothers, though he idolizes Ryo the most out of all of them. A large part of the first war with the Dynasty is that Yuli’s parents were abducted by the Dynasty. However the series never shows him with his parents again.

He should be shown meeting up with his parents again after the first war just so viewers have that closure. Then somewhere in the interim episodes between the first and second war something should happen to his parents so he loses them, it can be left up for interpretation if his parents are permanently lost. Yuli would then start to live with the Ronin and Mia until arrangements can be made for him; he will eventually be taken in by the families of one of the Ronin.  

Of the three Ronin I see Kento’s family being the only one that would work. Kento has siblings roughly around Yuli’s age, and also Yuli himself would want to be near his adoptive big brothers.

In the Message OVA, Yuli is shown as a thirteen year old having won his jr. high’s Kendo tournament. Sage teaches elementary school aged kids at his families Dojo, so I can certainly see Sage privately teaching Yuli at some point.  

[durifmdarchived]

a headcanon about duri & the concept of home.

word count: 1,125. about: this is basically just duri vs the concept of home, kind of talking about how he’s felt lost, and how a lot of the time home has been people, rather than places he felt he didn’t belong. notes: i’ve finally picked up the writing headcanons in bullet point format, don’t look at me. also this makes no sense i don’t know where i was going with it.  mentions: @fmdjaewon, @fmdmaverick. there are also mentions of @fmdtaeyong, @fmdminah, & @fmdhyeju as comforts in his life. 

following the death of duri’s parents, he had lost the home that he knew and was suddenly moved away from incheon to seoul. ultimately, this was for the better, and it took a lot in his uncle to actually decide to do this. however, his uncle didn’t want his and seah’s parents or jangmi’s parents to feel like they needed to take care of duri. so, his uncle, minho, and aunt, taekjo, decided that it would be best that they take him.

however, due to the death of his parents, duri had always felt a bit lost. whenever, for the longest time, when asked where home was... it was always much of a blank to him. he wasn’t able to really answer, he wanted to say wherever his parents were. but, they were gone, it was something that he wasn’t able to answer. 

home has never really been a place for duri, that part of the concept was something that was completely lost. instead, it was more so people that were home, that he felt safe and loved around. he was lost on the full concept of home, the place would never be home. 

even though he never felt like he could call the apartment above the café his home (even though it very much was and his uncle and aunt made that very clear constantly that it’s his home, it’s his place of living), it’s still very much a comfort in his life. 

home to duri, for the longest time, was his uncle minho and aunt taekjo, there was no doubt about that. the love and protection they gave him, the help that he needed that they gave, and losing sleep just because duri was losing sleep, had really been something incredible. 

later, two of his best friends, jinsol and hanui would become home because they provided love and protective to duri, all while they would have fun together. running through the streets of seoul, getting ice cream, going to arcades, and many other things... they’re home, and those things were apart of home. 

later on, his home is added onto in the form of park jaewon. he comes up to him on the playground, a day when he needed someone the most. it was a day that started out rather well, but duri had felt a panic attack coming on. that was when jaewon had appeared. the two managed to become best friends, a little brother being sent to him on that day. 

jaewon’s grandmother is also someone who had become home to duri as well - she had treated him with so much love and if something bad happened in her presence, she offered protective and comforting. he didn’t expect to feel home when it came to her, but it was such a thing, especially since she opened her home to him. maybe it was another person sent from his parents to really make duri feel a lot more comfort because they were no longer there. 

however, the concept of home would finally have its whirlwind when he grows closer to his fellow knight member, maverick/kai. kai was someone who became a best friend, someone who would allow him to sleep in his bed when he was having a hard time - something that meant a lot to him. then, the feelings grew and that feeling of home grew stronger. they move in together after living the dorms together, even though they weren’t roommates in the dorms. they had separate bedrooms in the apartment, but duri seemingly always found himself in kai’s bed. he wasn’t comfortable unless it was with kai, something that he got used to. so, he would always find himself there, rather than his actual bed. soon, finn would come, and home is changing - he finally feels like he has a home. or at least, fully understands the concept of a place. once they start dating, they move out of an apartment into a house, fall in love, get more animals, duri finally understands the concept of a place being home. but, home is wherever kai is. he’s safe, loved, and protected there because kai is next to him.

there are a few comforts that are people that help with this feeling of home in people as well. those three come in the form of ash, minah, and hyeju. 

while ash may not feel the same way, he is a comfort to duri. this came along because ash was the first people to talk to duri when duri came in as a trainee. during one of the scheduled eating times during training time, a young ash sat down at the table that duri was at - with duri clearly a bit nervous about the change in everything, as well as just nervous about being a trainee coming in on the older end. nonetheless, that meant the world to duri, and he was thankful to see ash in the knight training room when duri had been selected to be in the lineup after only two months of training. just his presence, while maybe not to so happy to be in knight anymore, is a comfort to duri nonetheless.

hyeju was another person that came in while duri was a trainee, and was really there for him after bc entertainment decided duri would be in the knight lineup, thus pushing him to the front of people that trained longer. a lot of trainees no longer liked him because they stole their “spot” but, hyeju was the one that made him know that everything was okay, that he deserved that spot, and there’s a reason he got the spot, no matter how short he had trained. she’s become a rather good friend and they really just have each other’s back through thick and thin. she’s a big comfort in his life, since she’s a protector of sorts. 

minah became duri’s friend during his short training time. truth be told, she was like an angel that was needed. she had come at the time that duri’s mental health was starting to take a toll again. seemingly, often times, the two would be sat in the corner while chaos would ensue, drinking tea or something, acting like nothing else was happening. this always helped duri out a lot with his stress and how his mental healh was secretly going. he had become her number 1 fan during the days and was incredibly excited to hear she was debuting with hyeju. minah has easier become one of duri’s best friends and comforts, whether she knows how much she helped during the time or not.

home and comfort are people, those are the concepts he knows the most about when it comes to those things.

[save-the-spiral]

Warnings for blood mention, mechanical body horror, gore mention, torture mention, 'glitchy' unrealistic stuttering, calling a violent person 'unstable' (he is not mentally ill, but his crew thinks he is dangerous and unhinged, and he doesn't try to quell these rumors), slightly unreliable narrator?, He's just going through A Lot and coping via torture though it is not graphic here, this is really the beginning of his recovery, to be honest.

Alexander really did not think he would be embarking on a project where he fully considered the sentience and inherent 'humanity' in an Armada soldier, but, well, everything in his life had always been strange.

He finally solved the Khurgas' problem, as unconventional as it was, and continued forward as the tiger commander gave him a final order to turn the tide of battle on the Marleybonian Isle Of Fetch. With his orders, he and his crew advanced towards the beacon glowing from a beached Armada ship.

The new form of Armada units they found was strange- bulky, massive. Taller than any of their crew, easily two people's width as well. They were tougher than any flimsy hunk of metal carrying a musket or halberd the crew had destroyed before.

They hit hard, and that in itself was worrying. Currently alongside him were Bonnie Anne, Sarah Steele, and Gracie Conrad, a new crewmate he actually befriended, an unusual occurance these days when he took on a new person.

So when Sarah fell unconscious at a rough hit to the head from one of the Armada soldiers' weapons, Alexander's heart sank, but he knew it would happen. Currently everyone in his lineup was rather dainty, and he himself was a bit of a glass cannon, even the higher-ups sitting on their asses in the war room could recognize that.

So when the final battle neared, he called Ratbeard up to assist. The man was more solidly built than the rest, and he or Subodai were good picks as a fellow front line fighter while Bonnie Anne sat back to observe the field and Gracie spent the first vital moments constructing traps.

It was almost hilariously easy at first, on the ship. Gracie quickly whispered instructions, to half turn the crank, then destroy the generators, causing a power surge to blast the whole operations to pieces. Alexander cloaked the entire party in shadows, and half turned the mechanism himself.

The Armada soldiers, confused, still following battle protocols, began to destroy the only active thing on the battlefield: the generators.

Alexander was tempted to laugh, but managed to hold off until they began their ambush. He taunted the lifeless machines, mocking them with a leer as he cut them down one by one, relishing in the sound of twisted, screeching metal and the hot pour of slick oil that stained the hands and face and gave his blades a ghoulish tint.

And he would have done the same if they were people. And that alone caused Gracie and Bonnie Anne to look at him questioningly.

The beacon exploded, causing Ratbeard to cheer, hollering into the night, and Gracie appeared satisfied, but her tail wagged slowly and head cocked in thought.

"Captain, could I check for more devices in the ship's interior?" She asked.

Alexander nodded, breathing hard, blood singing still, head pounding. He kicked open the doors into the lower decks, while Gracie checked the captain's cabin.

Alexander didn't know what to look for, mind distant and scanning the room, prepared for it to turn battlefield any second, but he certainly did not expect the brig to have an occupant.

It was a barred room, one of the same make as the one Alexander spent a stint of time in whilst seventeen, about to start this twisted adventure. Inside, however, was no punk kid nor warrior of Mooshu, as was last time.

Alexander was entranced by what he saw, a strange echo of his actions above deck. The clockwork lying inside was large, the same frame as the largest model the crew had newly encountered. That was where the similarities stopped. The clockwork had no weapon, and was sparking and whirring weakly, fingers twitching as it lay limp, thrown against the back wall.

What was there to do but venture inside?

The closer he got after unlocking the cell, the more the entire situation grew unnerving. The clockwork soldier's head was bowed, hat hung low and obscuring. All armor or clothes were gone, leaving only bronze, black, and white planes of machinery, and glimpses of wires that sparked, cut. Several dents and gashes decorated the main torso plate, one arm hanging by a hinge.

When Alexander brushed the hat to the side, his breath hitched.

Surprises were not as common these days. He was a twenty-three year old man, he had been betrayed, played a fool and a puppet, stabbed in the back, and watched some of the most grotesque torture. He had inflicted some of that, eager, panting and sniffing out blood and weaknesses like a sommelier sniffed out fine wines from the way it swished against the glass, legs of the fluid sliding up smoothly, the fragrant booze plunging the senses into something smokey, smelling the barrel it was aged in, picking up hints of wood and fruits and lush flowers. All to drink it, let the intoxicating liquid slide and seep into their tastebuds, sink into their teeth, and swallow it. Much like Alexander would watch blood trail from a wound, the fear induced sweat on the skin making the passage of the fluid all the more simple, sharp iron in the air, the scent stained into their clothes.

He had seen some gruesome scenes. Nothing prepared him for seeing the dark void of chaos beneath a clockwork's mask.

The sharp intake of breath burned when he held it, eyes flitting rapidly to take it in.

Shattered porcelain remnants of its mask remained at the sides near where ones ears would go, but aside from those jagged pieces it was a whole different story. Bronze metal parts, strange and small and intricate, all clicking weakly along. The teeth- exposed now, sculpted and perfectly straight. They looked real and a chill dripped down Alexander's spine like someone cracked an egg at his neck.

The eyes. The eyes. The eyes.

Oh, the eyes.

Alexander was captivated, staring, staring and falling deep into an onyx void with a spark of true intelligence. Machinery sputtered for a moment, before the clockworks head turned just a smidge, mouth now agape, letting words spill.

"I-I-I-I-I." The machine glitched and stuttered, hand twitching once, the wrist twisting. "B-B-B-B-Bir-r-r-r."

Alexander found himself soft, quiet, until he cooed like one would at a baby, a soft "oh-hhh.", One that means nothing but to reassure. "Take you're time." He whispered.

"Ow-Ow-Oww-w-w-l-l." The thing stopped, whirred quickly, and spoke again. "Owl. N-N-" with a soft scrape a new part of its mangled face shifted, a bolt falling loose. "Owl."

Definitely not expected.

For a brief, hysterical moment, he wondered if he was wasted, having a bad drunken dream.

And it struck some kind of cord. Alexander wanted to know why. Why was this beaten to shit clockwork in an Armada brig.

But the machine slumped, stuttering about owls.

So he made the completely rational decision of dragging it out and yelling up to his crew for assistance.

And that in itself was shocking enough to send Bonnie Anne running in a flat sprint, crashing into walls as she went. Alexander never asked for help unless he was about to die or it truly was an impossible task to do alone. She hoped for the latter.

Alexander watched Bonnie Anne rush in, sniper on her shoulder ready to aim for the head. When all she saw was a busted clockwork, she let her weapon fall to her side and scoffed.

"Can't take it to our ship alone." Alexander explained, tone expectant.

"We could find scrap metal much closer to the ship if we really need it, captain."

"No. This isn't that- look at it, Bonnie. It was locked up. Why would the Armada do this to one of their own?"

"I don't know, captain, and frankly, don't know why I should care. It isn't alive."

"Well then, I guess I'll drag this to the ship on my own and get us all caught by any of the Armada between me and the dock." Alexander drawled now, a tone that promised he would follow through.

"Fine." Bonnie Anne barked out, jaws snapping.

With her and Ratbeard's help, they got it on board rather easily, Gracie running off to inform the tigers of their victory.

"To the brig with this hunk of junk, captain?" Ratbeard asked.

Alexander gazed over the war torn Isle Of Fetch, before looking back at the clockwork. "Bring it to my cabin. Tell Gracie she can check in if she's interested, but I'd rather this was my project."

Every crewmate exchanged confused glances, but with their captain turning from eccentric and frivolous into a dangerous, unstable man, they knew not to question a simple request that would hurt no one. Bonnie Anne did roll her eyes though, unable to resist.

And so Alexander found something new to fixate on, finally something that made the echoing, forlorn voices of his parents silent. Something that wasn't blood, or the way a betrayer screams for mercy, and not the crack of bone or crunch of cartilage.

Something quiet.

Gracie stayed in his room as well, silent as a grave, handing him tools and bits and bobs to fix up the broken toy soldier. Bonnie Anne led the crew in his absence, not for the first time.

He spent days intricately carving a plate of ivory, giving it the suggestion of a nose reminiscent of the Armada's plain porcelain masks. He inlayed gold in the outside, blushed it with more gold between the eye sockets and atop that nose. It was delicate, at odds with the sturdy body, the body itself a slightly uneven, less efficient thing, but it seemed proper, given the stutters about birds.

The mask looked like an Owl. It fit perfectly in every sense Alexander’s feverishly working mind could conjure. He worked on the internals last, of course, always one to prioritize the aesthetic over what lies underneath.

That was the sticking point, it seemed. He and Gracie would need more intel on either war golem construction, or the Armada’s own blueprints to figure out how to connect the pieces and give that spark of life Alexander had witnessed, to bring it back to the husk of metal and ensure it would still be rambling about owls, and not simply bash Alexander’s head in with the nearest wrench.

So Alexander left his work table as it was and allowed Bonnie Anne to drag him back into their mission, where they had to help a different branch of the Marleybonian bootlickers to ensure Alexander could finally be given the title of captain, which in itself was only to get proper access to Catbeard in order to get the imprisoned captain’s shred of the map

Plans within plans, however. Alexander let Bonnie Anne remember the big picture, and he let himself be busied by the immediate task, as well as secretly contemplating the mechanisms and delicate machinery that made up what might be a person, might be more than faulty programming. 

He didn’t know what conclusion this would come to, but for the first time since hearing an echo of his lost parents’ voices, it was more than just El Dorado.

It was the strange clockwork soldier, as well.