#but i hope that it collapses inward on itself

[demusewriter]

I Loved You Too Early

Summary: You've been admiring the captain of the prominent football team in your school, whom you secretly admiring from afar. You thought he was out of your reach until you saw him studying in your brother's room. Genre: brother's best friend, slow-burn Pairing: Non-idol! Jungwon x Fem! Reader Word count: Part I: 11,432k; Part II: 14,297k (Overall: 26,179k) Chapters: 10 (Completed) (divided in two parts) Warnings: This is heavily inspired by the Chinese drama 'Hidden Love' so there's a big resemblance, age gap (5 years difference), unrequited love, a little bit of sprinkle of angst, fluff, time skip, just a teeny-weeny bit of fist fighting (but not too much!), and not solid proof-read because its too long (╥﹏╥). Author's Note: I apologize for being gone for a year (⭑•͈ 𓎟 •͈ ). While working on this, I suddenly became so busy with college that I decided to put it on hold. Now that I've graduated and started working in corporate, my responsibilities have doubled or even tripled, and I completely forgot to continue this. (◞‸ ◟) However, in the past few days, I've been motivated to finally finish it. ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- This was supposed to be in a longer format, but I decided to divide it into two parts so you can take breaks without missing where you left off. Thank you all for patiently waiting! I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. Enjoy!

PART I PART II

Chapter One

You don't know exactly when your dull world was invaded by an unexpected rhythm that made your whole world sway in unending swirling motions.

When did your pulse start to waltz to the beat of an unknown tune, or when did your heart seem to pound louder than before, like a drum heralding the arrival of a marching band.

At first, these sensations frighten you, as you thought you were experiencing early symptoms of heart disease since your heart was not beating normally.

But this unfamiliar heartbeat, the strong and powerful thump of your heart, doesn't hurt; instead, it is sweet, pleasant, and almost comforting.

Then it hit you like an epiphany.

The erratic rhythm of your heart wasn't a medical heart disease at all, but an emotional one.

The strange heartbeat wasn't a signal of a heart condition—it was the throbbing pulse of attraction, of affection, of something you had never felt before:

Love.

A feeling that is often described as an intense, affectionate concern for another individual or object. It is one of humanity's most profound emotions, embedded in both our psyche and our essence.

They said that love's profound complexity underscores its paradoxical nature; you have to—

'pay attention'

—pay attention to recognize it as an emotion that deserves—

'Y/N'

—respect, care and openne—

"Nishimura Y/N!"

Your eyes immediately snapped open when you heard the scream of your name, making you bolt upright from your productive daydreaming.

You quickly blink your eyes to adjust your vision from the blurriness brought on by your deep slumber.

As you tried to shake off the sleepiness, your eyes settled on the person standing in front of the blackboard, brows furrowed, glaring at you with irritation.

You immediately stood up like a soldier from your chair, making a loud screeching noise from the abrupt motion.

"You're not paying attention in my class, Ms. Y/N." Your math teacher pointed out the obvious when she got you caught slacking off in her subject.

Your face burned hotter than a thousand suns, and your ears tingled with embarrassment. The usual supportive wall of the classroom felt like it bows inward, ready to collapse on you.

"I-I'm sorry, Mrs. K-kim" You bowed as you stammered an apology, voice barely audible.

You kept your head down, feeling the sudden shame creep in your body when you saw everyone in the class watching you.

Their interest was now directed from the perplexing equations on the board to the scene unfolding at the back.

"I expect all of you to respect the time I put into preparing lessons and the class itself. If you have issues staying awake in my class, especially you, Ms. Nishimura," you flinched at the mention of your family name.

"I suggest you try to figure out the equation for resolving that issue before you start learning about algebra," she continued, her gaze firmly locked with yours while her face was void of any emotion.

The snickers from your classmates were almost as unbearable as the chasing glare from Mrs. Kim. She let out a disappointed sigh before deciding to continue the discussion.

You slowly sat back on your chair, still red with embarrassment, knowing that this unforgettable scene would become classroom lore, a tale that would inevitably follow you through the rest of your middle school year.

"Someone stayed up all night reading manga again." Chunso, one of your bestfriend, teases you after the math class ends.

"Is it my fault that her voice sounds like a lullaby?" You pouted while putting all your things in your bag.

Well, it's true.

Mrs. Kim, who had been teaching for thirty good years, had a voice with a subdued resonance, softer than silk yet harder than rock.

It was a perfect lullaby for you when the math equations emerged with her voice, creating a hypnotic sonata of numbers.

"Really?" He deadpanned. "You're going to blame her voice when your thick eyebags already speak for you that you haven't had enough sleep?" he playfully flicked your forehead, making you whine. "You're lucky she didn't put you in detention."

You continued to pursed your lips and decided not to comment on anything since it was really your fault for spending the rest of your night reading Shounen manga until dawn, leaving you only 4 hours of sleep.

And so you thought of sneakily using the time in math class to take a short nap, but that short snooze took you to dreamland, completely sweeping you off from reality.

Then you get caught.

If only the first letter in Chunso's last name is closer to yours, then there's a big chance he'll be your seatmate, which will help you prevent getting caught.

But you were so unlucky, as he was in the front row while you were in the last.

"Oh, what happened to her?" your other bestfriend, Eunhee, asked when she saw you sulking while clinging to Chunso's arm.

Unfortunately, she's not in the same class as you and Chunso, so you all just meet in the hallway every lunch break.

"Got caught sleeping." You hide your face behind Chunso's arm when you feel another wave of embarrassment hit you. You also expected a row of teasing words from her, but instead, you were embraced by a warm arm around your shoulder with a gentle rub on your arm.

"Did you get detention?" You looked up to her and shook your head in response.

"Then there's nothing to be worried about," she consoled, offering you a comforting smile that wipes your shame away.

You let go of Chunso's arm and cling your arms around her.

You wanted the rest of your high school journey to be quiet and unnoticed, your presence a mere ripple in the grand ocean of faces. But, as luck would have it, today you were scolded in front of 35 students.

"Aigoo, my little sister had a rough day." She coos while patting your head gently. Even though she was only four months older than you, she always considered you her younger sibling, as she never had one.

"Yah! Did you tease her about it?" Eunhee's soft voice was quickly replaced with a loud, arrogant one when her attention went back to Chunso.

"I didn't!" Chunso defended, his eyes suddenly finding the floor interesting as he tried to avoid the scrutinizing eyes of his friend.

You felt Eunhee's hand stop patting your head when she sensed that he was lying. Suddenly, Chunso yelped in pain. You looked up and saw her pulling the boy's poor hair.

You let out a giggle at your two friends acting like they were going to make each other bald by snatching each other's hair.

You take hold of their arms and gently remove their holds on both of their hair.

"It's okay, I'm good now," you assured them while softly fixing their messy hair. You might get teased about what happened earlier, but at least it leaves you with a lesson to learn to balance your time to avoid getting sleepy in class.

Your genuine smile partnered with the softness in your eyes removes their worries.

Ever since your friendship bloomed after you helped the two treat their wounds after the incident in your PE class in 4th grade, they have always stuck with you and considered you their precious little sister that they needed to protect.

So, the thought that you might get teased about the humiliating situation concerns them.

"Let's have lunch!" You excitedly exclaim and drag them with you as you cling to their arms.

Chunso and Eunhee shared a look while they let you yank them to the cafeteria, a silent agreement that your lunch is on them to brighten the rest of your day.

After the delightful lunch break that you have with your friends, which they surprise you with a once-a-month sale of bacon croque monsieur in the cafeteria along with a legendary chocolate mousse that makes you jump from happiness, you shortly parted ways with them as you are instructed by your teacher to get some books from the library that will be used in your class activity.

As you walk through the empty hallways, with the crisp pages and musty scent of the books accompanying you, something catches your peripheral vision.

Across the dusty path to your next class, you saw a spectacle unfolding on the bustling football field.

Captivated by the sudden burst of energy from the loud cheering, you rubbed your eyes and squinted through your glasses, pausing your hurried steps.

From your point in the hallway, you can see a group of people energetically playing football, and the scene looks like a small showdown.

You were never the biggest football fan, but you could at least appreciate the smooth precision of their passes.

With a further inspection from your spot, you could make out why a handful of spectators and students are basking in the afternoon sun when you see some of the players wearing the most famous navy blue and white striped jersey.

The group that clad themselves in that jersey were not just average students; they were the revered football team of your school.

The Nightball Team.

Ever since the establishment of the Nightball Team, it has consistently reigned supreme, its renown spreading far beyond the city.

The team is born out of a unique blend of teamwork, discipline, ambition, and a fierce drive for continuous development.

Making them act as an emblem representing not just the school but the principles its students stand for.

Every time the name of your school is mentioned, the Nightball Team is always the first thing that comes to everyone's mind.

That's how famous they are.

Amidst the navy blue and white-soaked jerseys, a certain person caught your attention. His physique was chiseled, his movements defying time as he led the team with an innate confidence that was as charming as it was stirring.

His jersey number 04, clung to his athletic body as he ran, skillfully dodging the opponents while carrying the ball that was tucked in his arm. Each tactical maneuver, every calculated move, displayed an enchanting dance of dominance and tenacity.

Then it happened—Nightball Team scored, erupting a loud cheer from the crowd.

As the dust settled around him, he looked up, his face breaking into a humble, triumphant grin that lit up his eyes.

It was as if the Earth rotated a little slower, distorted only by the increased pace of your heart.

Ah, now you remember when did your heart started to act out like a drum roll, jumping to the beat like a fool.

It was when he humbly acknowledged a job well done, his genuine joy for the game, and the soft crinkles around his eyes as he gently smiled while everyone praised him for scoring the goal.

That was the moment when you felt it for the first time—your stomach fluttering like there was a swarm of butterflies lodged in there, and your heart skipped a beat—for the first time, not for the new volume of Shounen Manga

but for someone else.

A peculiar sensation that only happens because of him.

Only because of him.

Chapter Two

As everyone in the class attempts to pay attention, the warm sunlight flowing through the classroom window did little to improve the class' concentration.

The monotone voice of your teacher talking about some dead men who died in a fight hundreds of years ago slowly puts everyone to sleep.

It was another ordinary Wednesday for the rest of the students, but for you, it was unimaginably extraordinary.

Before, there was no particular day that seemed special for you.

It was all just ordinary that you have to get through—well, except for Sunday, since that's the scheduled release for each chapter of the manga you are currently binge-reading.

However, after you learned that every Wednesday was the Nightball Team's practice in the field, it became a day that you always looked forward to.

The day when you can only see him.

It's unexplainable how his humble smile, which makes his dimples dig deeper into his natural rosy cheeks while his eyes form a crescent moon, can catch not only your attention but also your very young heart.

Maybe you were simply mesmerized by a man who wore the number 04 jersey, even though you didn't know his name.

You tried everything you could to know his name; you tried to dig through the old school newspapers that you sometimes kept to solve the sudoku part and re-read the sports section in the hope his name would be mentioned.

You also tried to go to your school's website, searching for him by using the Nightball Team's name in the search engine, which is always a hot topic on the website, but surprisingly, you were still left wondering what his name was.

The two options that you chose to know who is the mysterious jersey number 04 are the best choices that you could have since that's all you can do.

However, you still have one good option left.

The best option that will surely secure the chance of knowing his name.

But no matter how great this option was, you would rather get embarrassed again in the class than choosing it.

Asking your brother.

Your brother, Ni-ki Nishimura, who is part of the baseball team, is the best option to ask anything about sports, as he has been athletic and very knowledgeable in that area ever since you were both children.

He is a born sports prodigy.

Besides being part of the sports club at your school, he also has a huge number of friends, not only on his team but especially on the football team.

You don't know why, because the last time you checked, baseball and football are different sports, but your brother appears to be much closer to the members of the Nightball Team than his.

He really is the best choice to finally name the one you are admiring if he is not only a pain in the ass.

Despite your family's crowning him a prodigy and naturally talented, he is always the annoying and bloody irritating brother in your eyes.

He will literally make fun of your desperate mission of knowing the name of a particular person on the football team.

Heck, he might give you the wrong name just for fun.

However, that is not the worst thing that might happen if you ask him something that will give him a hint that you have developed a sudden interest in someone, especially if that someone is the opposite gender from you.

He will explode.

Your brother, who is five years older than you, has the tendency to become very protective when it comes to you.

He might be an obnoxious and nosy brother, but he has a soft spot for you that he cannot admit.

He will do everything to protect you, especially your heart, from men.

Therefore, if he finds out that you are growing admiration for someone, especially in the Nightball Team, he will literally ban you from going to the football field.

You sigh as you scribble his jersey number in your notebook while the boring class continues.

The bell signaling the end of the class of the day rang, making your mood reach the ceiling of happiness. The usual fidgeting in your seat to the rhythm of the clock turned into a wild scramble as you packed up your textbooks and pencil case into your bag.

You rush out of the classroom with thoughts of finally watching a football practice occupying your mind.

But before you could fully get out of the room, you felt a tug on your bag forcefully stop you in your tracks.

"What's with the rush?" Chunso asked still holding your bag.

"I-I'm going to the l-library!" You exclaim as you stumble over your words. Your friend's eyes immediately narrowed into slits when he sense you are making excuses.

"What will you do there?" he interrogates, as it was unusual for you to go to the library after class since you were always eager to go back home to spend the rest of your day reading manga.

"To study, o-of course," you said, forcing a smile in the hopes he would buy your alibi. However, it just proved his suspicion that you are hiding some information that you don't want him to know.

"Hmm." Your smile slowly faded when you realized he didn't believe you. You sigh in defeat.

"I promise that I'm not doing anything bad." You raised your pinky at him as an assurance to ease his worries.

Chunso was still observing you, looking for any hint of lying. He then let out a sigh, seeing the sincere look behind your words.

"You promise to message me and Eunhee when you get home," he said, raising his pinky. A big smile made its way into your face, brightening your mood.

Even though Chunso is not entirely convinced to let you go since you didn't tell him the real reason why you don't want to go home yet, he still trusts you that you're not doing anything behind their back that will make them worried.

You tightly cling your pinky to his, sealing it with both of your thumbs touching.

"I promise!"

After saying goodbye to Chunso, you immediately skip your way to the football field with so much giddiness. Each step you take intensifies your excitement as you are finally able to watch the practice match of the Nightball Team without using the view from the hallway.

You spot an empty seat that is secluded from the rest of the bleachers, although it is far away from the field where the players play, it is still enough for you to cheerfully cheer for your jersey number 04 without being noticed.

The crowd suddenly screamed with excitement when the players of the Nightball team showed up on the field. Your eyes started to scan the players, finding the specific person who always filled your sketchbook and slowly became your favorite muse.

It was as if your world had suddenly slipped into slow motion, and all the noises were muted when you saw him walking with confidence in the field—everything but him and his bright smile faded away.

You held your chest when you felt your heart skip again in a beat that only he could make.

Each time he ran across the field, swinging the ball with finesse, you would do a small victory dance in your heart. You watched every move, every goal, every mistake he made, and still supported him while your hand was busy sketching every movement he made and leaving small comments of amazement beside your sketch.

You would also offer whispers of encouragement, muffled applause, and silent woohoo with your heart thumped in silent cheer.

As the sun went down and the practice match ended, you found a sense of fulfillment you had rarely felt before. You hadn't elbowed your way through the fanatic crowd or screamed your lungs out, but something told you that you cheered the loudest.

It feels like you were bewitched by his enchanting display of professionalism and respect for the game, that you always find yourself in the same seat every week, watching him with full admiration in your eyes.

Your heart fluttered as you headed home while reminiscing the practice match you watched earlier, already dreaming of the next Wednesday when you could watch your jersey number 04 playing on the field again.

"Practice match?" Your mom spoke once you entered the house.

She's the only one who knows that you always watch the football practice, as you can never lie to her. Somehow it makes you guilty because your mom thought you were just growing a fascination with that sport, not knowing you're only there for a certain person.

"Yep!" You sneakily grab a slice of fruit in a bowl that your mom passionately peeled and cut into pieces. "But I went to Eunhee's house to do our assignments."

The football match ended much earlier than usual; sometimes it takes two to three hours, but today they concluded the practice for an hour, giving you time to drop by Eunhee's house when she invited you and Chunso to do your homework there, although you three only ended up watching movies instead of doing it.

You were about to get another slice of fruit when your mother gently slapped your hand, stopping you from getting more.

"You're going to be full before you can get dinner. Go to your room to wash up and call your brother; we will have dinner in a minute." She ushered as you pouted and sulkingly went upstairs, making your mom shake her head at your sillyness.

Then she remembered something.

"Ah, bring down your brother's friend as well!!" she yelled from downstairs, muffling her voice in the process as you entered your room, making you not hear the rest of her words.

"Nii-san, we're going to eat" You called outside your brother's room, clad in your blue Cinnamoroll print pajamas after you wash up. 

"Riki-niisan!" You knock on his door repeatedly when he doesn't respond, making your cheeks puff in annoyance. 

"I'm going to your room if you don't come out," you threatened, knowing your brother doesn't like you setting foot in his room. 

You rolled your eyes and barged into his room, kicking the door open.

"Nii-chan! What's taking you so long!?" You screamed at the top of your lungs with both of your hands resting on your hips.

You expect to see him playing PlayStation while wearing his headphones, the reason he couldn't hear you calling because of the noises in the game, but instead, you are greeted with a familiar pair of Boba eyes staring at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, squinting your eyes in the process to get a better look at the person sitting on the chair, as you forgot to wear your glasses.

He's definitely not your brother, as his eyes were sharper, contrasting to the softer eyes of this person in front of you.

You take a step closer to see his face, which is still blurry in your vision.

On the other hand, the boy suddenly felt amused at how you tried to scrutinize him. He couldn't help but chuckle when you got even closer.

You were taken aback when he suddenly let out a soft laugh. His dimples appeared on his left cheek with his eyes turning to a crescent moon.

Your eyes slowly went wide when you finally got familiar with those traits that make your heart do summersaults.

You suddenly felt frozen in your position when it slowly registered to you, who were occupying the study table of your brother, surrounded by papers and textbooks that were neatly organized on top of the desk.

You stumbled aback.

How on earth did your nameless jersey number 4 end up in your brother's room?!

Chapter Three

When God decided to create you, he probably accidentally poured too much embarrassment into your basin of personality, or when heaven decided to shower humiliation, you caught all of it as it became a frequent situation that always happened to you.

What's worse is that it happens in front of a person for whom you are developing intense admiration!

You dove into your bed, your face buried deep in your pillow. You gave a mighty inhale and unleashed a deafening scream into its soft embrace while your feet kicked with frustration.

You can bear to get embarrassed again in front of your classmates while your raging teacher scolds you, but not in front of your jersey number 4!

Your first encounter with him wasn't imagined this way; in fact, you didn't have a plan to talk to or be involved with him because you only wanted to admire him from afar.

Still! You had expected to meet him more decently, not while scrutinizing him with squinted eyes in your printed pajamas!

God! You can't imagine how unpleasant you look with your eyes squinting to make your vision clearer with your nose crunching in the process!

"Y/n-chan" You suddenly stop your antics when you hear your brother calling you outside your room. You stay buried in your pillow waiting for him to speak again.

"I'm hungry. Let's go downstairs to eat." Normally, you would straight-up come out of your room and sprint down the stairs, racing your brother ahead to prevent him from getting most of the food that your mother had prepared.

But now, you just want to stay in your room and pray for it to disappear.

"I'm not hungry," you said with a tinge of lack of enthusiasm in your voice.

Although your voice is quite muffled by your pillow, your brother on the other side of the door can clearly sense that you're not in your usual mood.

His brows furrowed.

Ni-ki's sure that he heard you earlier screaming his name at the top of your lungs while he was in the shower, certainly ready to annoy him again. But now, you're acting like your energy suddenly got sucked out of your whole body.

"Really? Mom cooked Oyakodon." He made sure that you heard the last part, knowing that it was your favorite and that it would be hard for you to refuse not to eat. "If you don't come down at any moment, I'm going to eat all of it."

Ni-ki expected the door to burst open and you to rush down the stairs to prevent him from hogging all the meals for himself; however, he was greeted by a different response.

"Hmm, okay" Your muffled hum is his cue to storm inside your room.

"Okay, what's going on with you, brat?" he demandingly asked. Ni-ki might sound annoyed at your unusual antics, but in reality, he was worried and now started racking his head if he did something that made you upset.

He snatches the pillow where your head is buried when you don't reply to his question, making you groan and kick your feet in annoyance.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" Ni-ki slightly cringed when his voice suddenly sounded soft, wishing you hadn't heard it.

He proceeded to touch your forehead, checking your temperature to see if you had gotten sick, to which you only whined and smacked his hand away. Your brother sighed.

"If you have no plan to eat, at least tell mom. She even made an effort to make a big serving of your favorite dish just for you."

Your body went still at what your brother softly said.

Since childhood, your parents have always reminded you of the importance of being grateful for all aspects of life, especially the food that graces your table.

Having been born and raised in Japan, you've been instilled with a deep reverence for food to express your appreciation for the hard work of the farmers and the dedication of those who prepare your meals.

Out of guilt, you found yourself sitting at the dining table savoring your favorite Oyakodon while trying to resist stealing glances at the person seated across from you, right beside your brother.

If it were any ordinary day, you'd likely be devouring your meal with gusto, prompting your mother's gentle reminders to slow down.

But today was different.

The presence of the boy who made your heart race like a runaway train transformed your mealtime into a royal feast, leaving your brother to cast perplexed glances your way, baffled by your another uncharacteristic behavior.

"Did you like the food, Y/n-chan?" your father asked when he also noticed that you weren't eating as usual. You wanted to scold your father for mentioning your name, as you felt all the eyes, including the adorable boba eyes, looking at you.

You wanted to say something, but you were afraid that when you spoke, his eyes would linger on you, making you feel another wave of shame. So, you nodded in response without lifting your head and continued looking at your food.

Your parents looked at each other with worry in their eyes, wondering what had happened to their precious, bubbly daughter.

You felt a hand gently rubbing against your back, making you look at your mother, who was beside you.

"Go finish your food so you can have a rest. I'm going to make you green tea later to help you feel better, hmm?" You felt your eyes slightly water as your mom gently cared for you.

Your guilt increased as they thought you were feeling under the weather when, in fact, you were just shy and embarrassed because your jersey no. 4 was on the same table as you.

"How about you, Jungwon? Did you like the food?" Your ears perked up as you looked in his direction when your mother called his name.

His name is Jungwon?

Your heart pounded in your chest, and a mix of excitement and giddiness coursed through your veins. The name resonated with you in a way you couldn't understand.

His name could be translated to "garden," a fitting name that perfectly describes the feeling you experience every time you see him.

Comfort.

"It always tastes good, Mrs. Nishimura. Thank you so much for the wonderful meal." He replied genuinely with a smile.

'Always? This isn't his first time here?' You unconsciously frowned.

Jungwon looked your way, making your eyes widen due to the unexpected eye contact. You quickly looked down at your plate to avoid his gaze, feeling your cheeks burn, with a lasting redness that stayed through the end of dinner.

You weren't sure whether you would be happy to return to your room and continue to privately revel in your embarrassment or disappointed that dinner had passed so quickly.

As you helped your mom with the dishes, you overheard Jungwon expressing his gratitude to your father for inviting him to dinner as they arranged the table.

A sign that he was about to leave.

"Can you send Jungwon to the door, Y/n-chan?" Your mother's request caught you slightly off guard. You had the urge to decline and come up with an excuse, but the guilt of lying to your mother again held you back.

Reluctantly, you found yourself nodding and accepting the request.

A sigh of relief washed over you when your brother also joined you in sending Jungwon off. However, your relief quickly faded when your brother jokingly rushed out the door, leaving Jungwon behind and you alone with him in the genkan as he put on his shoes.

As you stood by the front door, an awkward silence hung between the two of you. You avoided making eye contact, and as Jungwon prepared to leave, you muttered a shy goodbye.

Throughout dinner, Jungwon had been bothered by your quietness and avoidance of eye contact. It led him to believe that he had made you uncomfortable, especially after your encounter with him in Ni-ki's room that made you dash out of your brother's room.

Ni-ki's comment about you acting unusually and not being in the mood for dinner further supported his belief that he had made you uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight," he softly said, his voice tinged with worry, making your brows furrowed in confusion.

"I'm sorry if I laughed earlier; I didn't mean it in a bad way," Jungwon continued as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He thought that his chuckles over your actions were the reason why you got uncomfortable.

Your heart sank when you realized that your actions during dinner had made him think that you were offended by him and that his presence made you uncomfortable.

You quickly shook your head, desperately wanting him to understand the truth. "No, no, there's nothing to apologize for! I assure you, you didn't make me uncomfortable. I'm just naturally shy."

Relief washed over his face as he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. "Really? I thought I made you upset."

"Not at all. I just felt embarrassed because I didn't know Ni-chan had a guest, and I didn't greet them properly." You couldn't help but puff your cheeks when you felt another wave of shyness as you looked down at your fiddling fingers.

A smile crept onto Jungwon's face, making his eyes soften. "It's okay, I know you were just surprised. No need to get embarrassed."

A surge of warm feelings engulfed your heart when you heard his gentle reassurance. You really wanted to look at him, but you were afraid that he'd see the redness in your cheeks that reflected your true feelings for him.

Your thoughts were cut off when you saw his hand offered towards you. You try to swallow your fears and find a courage to slowly looked up from his hand to his face.

You could almost hear your heart pound with fervor, like a wild drumbeat in harmony with your emotions, when you saw him closely with a soft expression paired with a gentle smile, making his dimple make another appearance.

"Hello, I'm Yang Jungwon, your brother's friend." Your eyes almost welled up when you realized that he was making you forget the embarrassing first encounter by redoing it as if you had just met each other.

You softly smiled and took his hand in a handshake. You felt a sudden spark of electricity shroud your body because of the contact.

"I'm Nishimura Y/n, Riki-nii's sister." Jungwon's eyes formed into crescent moons when you accepted his gesture of starting over. Although he already knew a little about you because of your brother, it was still nice to finally meet his friend's sister whom the latter always talked about adorably.

"Nice meeting you, Y/n." He started shaking both of your hands as if sealing a deal, making you giggle.

"Nice meeting you too, Jungwon nii-san."

Chapter Four

You thought that your feelings for Jungwon wouldn't blossom any further, but you were proven wrong when you found yourself researching nutritious foods appropriate for a football player that can boost his energy during practice games, instead of focusing on your homework.

Never in your life did you imagine that there would be a day when it's your turn to give someone a gift to show your appreciation, just like your schoolmates in 6th grade used to do for their crushes—a gesture you often found cringy before.

Yet now, you're going to do it as well.

Football season is just around the corner, making the Nightball Team busier with their practice. Hence, you see this as an opportunity to support Jungwon by providing snacks and bottles of energy drinks anonymously.

You know how intensely athletes practice during the game season, as you've witnessed it to your brother.

To help their bodies keep up with the rigorous training, nutritious foods are very essential.

As you stroll around the convenience store with a basket in hand already full of nutritious foods and energy drinks, a colorful message cards and envelopes caught your eyes.

The intricate design of each card and envelopes make your eyes twinkle in delight.

You've been also a fan of stationery items, developing a fascination for collecting envelopes and colored papers that pave the way for another passion—creating a journal with these elegant items.

If not for manga, the excess in your allowance is spent on stationery items.

As you eye the items, a sudden thought crosses your mind, making your heart beat to a now familiar tune that you are slowly getting used to.

You nibble the side of your cheek, contemplating whether it would be worth it.

You close your eyes, slowly taking deep breaths and gathering the confidence to do it.

Now full of determination, you took the cards and envelopes and proceeded to the counter to check out the items.

Your entire night was spent carefully preparing small packages, filling them with nutritious snacks and energy drinks. Along these, you include heartfelt and motivational notes crafted on small cards that you've intricately designed.

The following morning, you found yourself navigating the empty hallway in an unusual early hour while clutching the gift in your trembling hands, your heart pounding with each step.

Reaching Jungwon's locker, you hesitated for a moment, your mind replaying scenarios of what could happen next.

Would someone appear out of nowhere? Would Jungwon catch a glimpse of you?

With a last scanned around the hallway to make sure no one is around, you took a deep breath, reassuring yourself that the early morning cloak of silence was on your side.

Swiftly, you slipped your gift along with the letter into his locker, your hands moving with a kind of precision that only nervous anticipation could bring.

As you put the gifts gently, you feel a rush of adrenaline, a mixture of satisfaction and nervous energy coursing through your veins.

With the deed done, you retraced your steps, leaving behind the token of your affection. The school began to stir with the arrival of students, and you blended seamlessly into the crowd, keeping your secret hidden behind a casual smile.

You wanted to wait and witness Jungwon's reaction to your gift, but fear taking ahead of you as you pondered the possibility that his response might not align with your expectations.

Ultimately, you chose not to proceed and continued on your way to class.

Later in the afternoon, you found yourself on the same bench you sat, watching the practice game just as you always done. The field was buzzing with energy as the players warmed up, their determination evident in every stride they took.

Amongst them, Jungwon stood out like a star.

As the game began, you found yourself entranced once again by Jungwon's performance. He darted across the field, effortlessly evading opponents with his nimble footwork. His passes were precise and his shots were powerful.

He commanded the field with an air of confidence that made your heart swell with pride.

His performance today was exceptionally good compared to the previous practice games. Not that he wasn't good before—he truly was—but today, it felt like he was in his zone.

Every move he made was so powerful. You couldn't help but wonder if the pressure of the upcoming football season was driving him to new heights.

However, it wasn't just Jungwon's skill that impressed you; it was the pure sheer joy he exude while playing that you always like to see.

His face lit up with a radiant smile every time he made a good play or celebrated a victory. It was clear the football was more than just a game to him; it was a passion that ignited and fueled his determination.

A soft and gentle smile made its way to your face as you held your hands close to your chest, feeling the crazy beat of your heart as you admired Jungwon from afar.

A whistle blew across the field, signaling that the first half of the practice game had just ended, making the players come back to the dugout to take a break. As the players made their way, your eyes only remained and followed Jungwon.

As he talked to one of the players, you saw him reach out for something among the water bottles and energy drinks. He twisted the cup and chugged its contents, making his Adam's apple bob with every gulp. The afternoon sun struck his skin, making it glow like honey and accentuating his chiseled jaw.

You catch your breath in a small gasp, not because of how attractive he looks but because the bottle he is holding is slowly becoming familiar.

It's the energy drink that you brought for him!

You know that it was yours because you made sure that the energy drink that you brought was different from the energy drink that they always drink every day, plus you can see the bright yellow sticker message that contained your motivational pun attached to the bottle!

You suddenly felt like you were not breathing when he noticed the sticker; his furrowed brows made you nervous as he read the message. You almost wanted to leave the field, thinking he didn't like what was written there, when all of a sudden he burst into laughter, making the other players look his way.

His teammates wanted to see what made him laugh, but Jungwon held the bottle close to his chest and refused to let anybody know.

Your cheeks suddenly flamed with redness; you don't know if it was from embarrassment or because of the overwhelming feeling of seeing his positive reaction to your motivational pun.

Jungwon looked at the sticker on the bottle once again and let out a chuckle while shaking his head in amusement. His smile and bright eyes didn't leave until the end of the practice game, making you feel a new sense of fulfillment knowing the small act of affection had reached him.

You guess the "Kick some Asparag-ass

(૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭" somehow made his day.

Seeing Jungwon's positive impact of your secret gesture fueled a newfound motivation deep within your soul.

Especially when you saw his soft smile upon discovering the rest of the gift you had left in his locker, a moment for which you had finally summoned the courage to witness his reaction.

Due to this, you can't help but ponder what else you could do—or another motivational pun to put— to bring him happiness and encouragement without revealing your true identity.

With each passing day, you continued to surprise Jungwon with small anonymous gifts, each carefully selected to brighten his practice session and show your support.

Noticing Jungwon excelled in his games and his skills shone even brighter with added encouragement, made your heart swell with pride each time you witnessed his growth, even though he remained unaware of your involvement.

You planned to spend your whole day today coming up with different ideas to keep Jungwon motivated, but since it was Sunday—meaning today was the scheduled release of a new chapter of the manga you were reading—you got distracted and ended up lying down lazily on the couch in the leaving room with an iPad hovering over your face.

You giggled when the supporting character thought that the protagonist was a love child of a known superhero in the story.

As you continued scrolling the pages, you heard the front door open.

Since the iPad completely covered your vision of the door, you didn't see who entered the house; you didn't mind and didn't bother to look who it was and continued reading, thinking it was only your brother since your dog, Bisco, immediately ran to the door with enthusiasm.

"Hey, make me some snacks." The voice of your irritating brother demanded—you guessed it right—it was your brother, which made your eyes immediately roll.

"Make your own," you grumbled, your eyes remaining on the screen.

"I'm going to study," he retorted, earning a scoff from you. 'Study my ass'

You remained unmoved, pretending not to hear him. However, your brother was relentless about getting you to make him snacks, resorting to tickling your foot.

You squirmed and kicked his hands away, still avoiding eye contact, thinking that ignoring him would make him leave you alone.

But the more you resisted, the more persistent your brother became.

Ni-ki decided to take it a step further and removed the socks you were wearing, continuing to tickle your bare foot.

You dramatically squirm around as if you were being possessed, earning a hearty laugh from your brother.

You got up and lodged a smack on your brother's arm when you had enough of his annoyance.

The sound of it resonated through the living room, proving how strong it was. You were ready to give him another one when you noticed another presence in the room.

Your fist hung mid-air, and your body froze as you saw Jungwon smiling at you.

"Hi, Y/n"

You immediately straightened your posture and quickly tucked your messy hair behind your ears.

"H-hello, Jungwon n-nii-san," you stammered while simply trying to fix your clothes, in which you are clad in your usual pajamas with pompompurin designs. You chew the side of your cheek.

Why is it that every time you look at your worst, Jungwon always shows up?

"Nii-san?" Your brother questioned, making you look at him. His brows furrowed like he couldn't believe what he had heard.

"We've been living here in South Korea for 5 years; it should be Oppa now."

Your fist suddenly feels itchy to punch your brother at the moment.

He knows that you're not yet comfortable using those honorifics because you're still adjusting to their culture; you're still slowly trying to fit in. 

Your fist has already collided with his arm; if not, your jersey no. 4 is not here.

"O-opp—" You gulp, looking down at your feet, trying your best to find the courage to say it. Wanting to put a good impression in front of the person you are admiring, you will try to say it.

"O-opp—"

"—ah"

"O-op—" 

"It's okay, Y/n" You immediately stopped when you heard a reassuring voice. You looked up, and your eyes immediately softened when you saw Jungwon looking at you with gentleness.

"I'm fine with Nii-san; you don't have to force yourself." You felt a warm glow of reassurance spread through your body, thawing the icy grip of fear that had taken hold of you.

"Nah, man. She can say i—" Before your brother could finish his words, Jungwon's fist already collided with Ni-ki's back, playfully smacking his friend.

"Let's have your sister do what makes her comfortable. Respect her decision, dude." Your brother quickly returns the punch to his friend, which only makes the latter laugh.

As Jungwon and Ni-ki were laughing and playfully bickering at each other, you stood there watching as if your world stood still, leaving you with the feeling of a crushing wave of warmth washing over you.

In the quiet corners of your heart, a warm ember began to glow.

It flickered gently at first, timidly reaching out to the cool, untouched spaces within.

Jungwon's gentle smile, the softness of his eyes, and his kindness made the ember grow, its flames dancing in harmony with the newfound rhythm of your heartbeat that you didn't know suddenly changed into something more.

'Uh, oh, you're falling in love'

The fluttering of your heart becomes more frequent and pronounced that every time Jungwon appears in your line of sight, you experience this peculiar feeling.

These little flutters seemed to build into a crescendo, filling your heart with a strange yet amazing feeling.

Every word that Jungwon says to you always shows how pure and kind his soul was, making the beat of your heart grow louder as if announcing to the cosmos the love that is blossoming within you.

Slowly, your heart was no longer fluttering; it was soaring.

'Oh no, you're falling in love'

You had always believed in love because of your parents, but you had never truly understood its power until now.

You realized that love was more than a fleeting connection; it was the awakening of your soul.

It was a feeling that washed over you like a gentle wave, leaving you breathless and craving for more.

As you look at Jungwon, a new, profound, warm sensation spreads through your chest, gradually seeping into every corner of your being.

It was a sensation of love, softening your edges and illuminating your soul.

It was a feeling that found solace in vulnerability and flourished in the light of trust.

'Oh, you're falling in love.'

Chapter Five

The newfound realization made your heart skip a beat and sent a rush of nervous energy through your veins.

You can't believe it, you have fallen in love.

With such a simple word, its complexities were unraveling before you, leaving you both exhilarated and terrified.

At a young age, you already found yourself entangled in a web of emotions that you had never encountered.

It was your first taste of this intoxicating elixir, and you were utterly unprepared for its effects.

With this newfound love came a wave of shyness that seemed to wash over you whenever you were in Jungwon's presence, making you tongue-tied like every word you wanted to say remained locked behind closed lips.

You couldn't even bring yourself to meet his gaze when you brought snacks to your brother's room while they were studying.

As you thought they were both studying.

Because upon handling their snack, you realized that only your brother was engrossed in his studies, while Jungwon was actively helping and guiding him, almost like a dedicated tutor.

This observation lingered in your thoughts, making you seek clarification from your mother about it.

"Oh, Jungwon?" Your mother started "his tutoring your brother on some of his subjects for weeks now." She continued while chopping some vegetables for dinner.

While this information seemed like a casual detail to your mother, for you, it was a revelation that left your eyes widening in shock.

How had you not noticed him doing this earlier, especially considering he had been tutoring your brother in his room for several days now?

What surprised you even more was how he managed to balance this commitment with the intensity of their practice games.

"But why? He's an athlete like Riki-nisan; wouldn't it be exhausting to do both?" Your curiosity compelled you to ask.

The chopping abruptly ceased. Your mother gently set down the knife, her gaze softening as she looked at you.

"You see, Jungwon has been struggling to pay off all of his school expenses—" You saw how the sad smile made its way to your mother's face.

"—despite working part-time, it hasn't been enough. Your brother offered financial assistance, but he always refused. Your brother was determined to help, so he proposed the idea of Jungwon tutoring your brother in subjects he was struggling with," your mother explained, continuing to chop vegetables as you listened attentively.

"That young boy is such a genuine friend to your brother. Despite his financial struggles, he consistently rejects any money from your brother's pocket. If only his mother hadn't fallen ill, he would have also declined your brother's offer."

The weight of the revelation made your heart sink.

While you admired Jungwon for his skills and charm, little did you know about the silent battles he faced. Yet, he remained a compassionate soul willing to endure hardships to support his family.

"So, if your friends are also struggling with their studies, let me know so we can recommend Jungwon to them, okay?" Your mother said with a hopeful smile on her face, also wanting to extend her help to her son's friend.

You nodded and agreed without hesitation, though deep down, a secret plan was forming in your mind.

You were the one who would be getting the tutoring sessions with Jungwon.

If Ni-ki was naturally a sports prodigy, you on the other hand were a naturally gifted student, excelling in all subjects effortlessly.

Despite being smart and not needing any help with your studies, you plan to take on the role of a struggling student to help Jungwon to support him financially.

With that plan, you were more determined to help Jungwon rather than get closer to him.

You were pacing back and forth, your heart pounding with anticipation. It was the day of your tutoring session with the person who only can make your heart do crazy act like this.

When you brought up the topic of needing a tutor during dinner, your parents were taken aback, nearly choking on their food.

It seemed incomprehensible to them that their academically successful daughter, particularly excelling in physics, would require assistance in any subject.

Fortunately, you are gifted an understanding parents who acknowledge that even bright students face challenges. Consequently, they graciously granted your request for a tutor, specifically Jungwon as your tutor in the subject where you usually excel the most—physics.

You will literally rot in hell for lying too much to your parents.

Back in your brother's room—which is the place you have requested to use for your tutor session—your mind swirling with thoughts of how the session would go.

You meticulously organized your study materials, ensuring they were arranged perfectly on your desk. You adjusted your hair, clothes, and everything in an attempt to look decent.

When the knock finally came at the door, your heart felt like leaped into your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts, before answering it. There stood Jungwon, clad in a fresh fluffy gray hoodie with a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, Y/n. How are you today?" He casually asks as he enters your brother's room, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on you.

"I-I'm g-good, thank y-you." You cleared your throat, trying to cover your stuttered response. You felt your face immediately flush from embarrassment.

Jungwon smiled gently, sensing your nervousness. "Great! Let's start our lesson then," he said, pulling out a chair for you. "Remember, there's no need to be nervous. We're here to learn together, and I'm here to help."

From his assurance, you felt again the familiar melody in your heart that you can slowly put into a song, and it swelled every time he spoke with kindness.

Whenever you feel embarrassed or in trouble speaking your mind, Jungwon always catches you with soothing words, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was as if he knew exactly what to say to make you feel validated and loved.

His kind words seemed to have a power of their own, melting away your doubts and worries.

It wasn't just the words, though. It was the way Jungwon said them, the gentle sincerity in his voice. His words were not empty promises or shallow compliments; they held a genuine warmth that touched your heart.

Each day, his kind words reaffirmed your belief that your heart made the right choice in loving him.

"I hear you were having trouble in advanced physics?" You sheepishly nodded, crossing your fingers under the table, invoking a protective power to mitigate the bad consequences that will come to you for lying too much.

"Well, it's not your fault for finding this subject challenging. Teaching this level of physics in 7th grade is a bit advanced for young minds. I only started learning it last year in the 11th grade," Jungwon said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Our school's curriculum isn't the best, is it?" he added with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, earning a giggle from you.

He smiled, sensing that you were getting more comfortable, and began to slowly proceed with tutoring you.

As the session went on, Jungwon always been patient with you, eager to make you comfortable around him and create an environment wherein you could truly "learn."

But you've got to admit, the tips he is providing to help you understand the concept better are much easier to grasp than the way your teacher teaches.

As you spent more time with Jungwon, diving into deeper topics week after week, your feelings for him grew stronger. The way he explained things made you admire and like him more.

In those quite study moments, he made the subject matter feel like a beautiful melody, resonating not just in your head but also in your heart.

Falling for Jungwon was like a slow waterfall, this gentle descent into a realm where every drop carried a piece of your heart, cascading softly into the pool of emotions that brought a sense of calmness to your soul.

As the weeks pass, not only your feelings blossom but also your friendship with Jungwon.

Jungwon is an easygoing person, conversations with him flowed like a gentle stream, unhurried and reassuring. 

Before you start to study, he will ask about how your day went, and he will also share his with you.

Whenever you take a break from the study session, he will offer an icebreaker, such as playing a little bit of brain games or letting you rumble about the manga you were reading while he listens attentively.

One of the things you always look forward to in your study sessions is his thoughtful gifts, given as a reward every time you ace the study exercises or tests and quizzes in physics.

Sometimes, he surprises you with snacks, sharing his favorite jelly, and there's that one thing you can't forget: gifting you the latest volume of the manga you were reading.

"Since you ace the exam last time," Jungwon declared with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I think my student deserves this reward." The corners of his lips curled into a playful smile, as he reached for his bag and pulled out a paper bag and handed it to you.

Curiosity piqued, you eagerly open the bag to reveal the latest volume of your favorite manga series.

Your eyes immediately widened in surprise, a delightful smile spreading across your face. "Jungwon nii-san, you remembered!" You exclaimed, flipping through the pages with excitement. " I can't believe you got this for me!"

Jungwon softly grinned, his own excitement mirrored in his eyes. "Of course, I remembered. You've been talking about this series non-stop, so I thought you'd appreciate having the next volume"

You couldn't count how many time you have been grateful for Jungwon's kindness, the kindness that always feels so warm and welcoming.

However, as you observed the way he interacted with others, you realized that his kindness and warmth were extended to all.

You're not as special to him as you thought.

You felt a bittersweet pang in your chest, acknowledging that he only saw you as his student, a friend, and nothing more.

Much worse, as his little sister.

In the bustling football stadium, under the warm glow of the stadium lights, you found yourself once again in your usual seat, holding your breath as the football game were in full swing. The players of Nightball team sprinted across the field, their feet grazing the perfectly manicured grass.

Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat as Jungwon miraculously spotted you amidst the crowd.

A wide smile spread across Jungwon's face, and he waved at you with unreserved excitement. Your heart fluttered, surprised that he had noticed your presence among the large supporters. You waved back, returning his infectious smile.

As the game continued, you couldn't help but feel a sense of connection with Jungwon, knowing that after all months of unwavering support for him, he was finally aware of it.

In a brief pause between play, Jungwon jog on your way to quickly thank you for cheering for him, as he talks to you, another talented football player, Jake, approached him, curiosity and amusement evident on is face.

He nudged him and teasingly asked, "Who's this girl you're waving at, man? Do we have a secret fan club now?"

Jungwon simply chuckled, "This is Ni-ki's little sister, Y/n." he look down at you with a softness in his eyes as he gently patted your head, "She's like my little sister too."

You felt a pang in your chest as disappointment washed over you, slowly realizing your position in Jungwon's life.

While your heart crazily beat of full affection for him, his was platonically calm for you.

Despite all of that, you swallowed the hurtful truth and softly smiled, accepting the role of being his only little sister.

From then on, you made a choice to embrace the only friendship you have with Jungwon without demanding more.

You continue to fill the pages of your heart with cherished moments, etching them with love and gratitude.

With each passing day, you learn the true essence of selflessness and acceptance.

Despite the unrequited love that lingered in the depths of your soul, you found solace in the knowledge that the friendship you shared with Jungwon was a treasure you could forever hold dear.

Although you acknowledge already the fact that your relationship with Jungwon will only stay as friends, it didn't stop you to continue sending him gifts and letters still anonymously.

You were happily skipping your way through the school hallway as the morning sun shone brightly, clutching yet again a beautifully wrapped gift along with a heartfelt letter of encouragement for his upcoming football game, and also discreetly thanking him for showing kindness and his help in tutoring you.

But as you approached Jungwon's locker, you noticed him standing there with his group of friends.

Startled, you quickly ducked behind a nearby row of lockers.

Seeing him still engrossed in conversation with his friends and seems like they have no plans to leave the lockers at any moment, you decided to retreat and come back later when they were gone.

With a small and hopeful smile, you turned around and began walking away. But just as you were about to go to your class, something caught your attention.

"Man, you remember the gift that Jungwon received last Friday?" an unfamiliar voice of a boy started, piquing your interest, especially since you knew you had gifted Jungwon that day.

"The design looks so damn childish like it was made by an elementary schooler for their art project." The boy snickered, "And all of the things, a freaking garden design mug as a gift?" he mockingly remarked with a chuckle, causing the others to burst into laughter.

You felt like someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water over your head when you overheard their conversations. It felt as though an icy hand wrapped itself around your heart, squeezing it with an unbearable heaviness.

You in fact, gifted him a mug with a garden design, thinking he will like it because it reminds you of him and his name upon seeing it on the store.

With tears slowly well up in your eyes, you look down at your gift, which is wrapped in Tamama design gift wrappers with a cute bow ribbon.

Well, maybe they were right, your choice of gifts was childish.

But you had put so much thought and effort into those gifts, believing that Jungwon would appreciate them. However, it seemed like your gesture had become the subject of ridicule.

You felt as if the world crumbling around you, your heart sinking even deeper as if it had shattered into countless fragments. The thought that Jungwon might be also laughing at your "childish" designs only added to the weight of despair.

Unable to face the humiliation, you quickly turned in your heels and retreated, your footsteps echoing the emptiness in your heart.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon, in fact, stood in silence, his usual smile faltered, a hint of offense flickering in his eyes.

"Hey, guys," he spoke up, his voice filled with a strength his friends never heard before. "That gift is special to me. It's different, sure, but it's unique. The person who gifted it to me probably has a reason for choosing a mug, and I appreciate it. It's the thought behind it that counts. So, please, show some respect."

His friends fell silent, stunned by the defense he had just given. Jungwon understood that his friends might not comprehend the deeper meaning behind someone's gift, but he couldn't let them belittle their efforts, especially since how those gifts consistently brightened his day.

You who are still unaware of Jungwon's defense, spent the rest of your day lost in your gloomy thoughts. Your heartache enveloped you like a tight cage, leaving you feeling isolated and alone.

You replayed the scene in your mind over and over, the sting of humiliation and embarrassment refused to subside.

You don't know how you will face Jungwon after all those words.

The idea of facing him, of looking into his eyes and pretending to be casual while those words in the back of your head kept stabbing you like a broken record was unbearable.

As you grappled with your own emotions, the glow of your phone screen caught your attention, announcing the arrival of a new message.

'Hi, Y/n! I might be a little bit late for our study session because of a team meeting ╥ ╥ , but I'll make sure to be there before 6:30 pm so we can have more time to study!'

'As an apology, I'll be bringing snacks~~'

The message from Jungwon illuminated your phone screen, and a mixture of conflicting emotions surged through you.

On the surface, the excitement of an incoming study session and the promise of snacks brought a fleeting smile to your face. However, deep within, a pang of heartache tugged at your insides.

The knot in your stomach tightened, and a lump formed in your throat. Jungwon's innocence, and his kindness, clashed violently with the echoes of humiliation and embarrassment that still pound within you.

The vivid memories of his friends' mockery haunted you, turning the joyous act of giving into a painful reminder of vulnerability.

With a heavy heart, you fabricated an excuse about feeling unwell and unable to attend the tutoring session that day.

It was a lie, one that marked the beginning of a pattern.

The tutor sessions turned into missed opportunities to see him, and the football games became distant scene you chose to avoid.

Jungwon, puzzled by your sudden change in behavior, continued to inquire about your well-being.

Each message from him tugged at your heart, but the walls you created held firm.

His concern was met with vague responses, masking the turmoil within you. The more he reached out, the deeper you delved into your cocoon of self-inflicted solitude.

The peak of this emotional turmoil came when Jungwon sensing your distance.

"Are you okay, Y/n?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"Are you mad at me?"

The lies you spun become more elaborate, the excuses more intricate. You assured him that everything is fine and your not mad at him, that you were just busy, that life had taken unexpected turns.

Jungwon, the patient soul he was, accepted your explanations with a grace that only deepened the ache in your chest.

When he extended an invitation to his high school graduation ceremony, offering you a ticket and a chance to be part of his celebration, you hesitated.

The battle within you raged—the desire to reconnect, to salvage what was left, clashed with the fear of facing the unspoken truths.

In the end, you declined, citing other commitments and responsibilities that seemed to multiply in your made-up reality.

You both slowly grew apart, especially as he moved to another city to pursue his dreams at a different university.

It was a bittersweet decision but for now, you resigned yourself to the knowledge that some chapters must end before new ones can begin.

And though your story with Jungwon may have concluded on a sour note, you refused to close the book entirely, holding on to the faint glimmer of hope that perhaps, someday, your path would cross once more.

©2024 Demuse Writer. All Right Reserved.

[flanaganfilm]

Do you have any “don’t meet your heroes” stories from working in Hollywood?

Absolutely. Hollywood really is a place like no other. If you grow up loving cinema, certain people can take on mythic status in your imagination. Actors, filmmakers; they are larger than life. They become idols in the truest sense - an image that is actually worshipped. But Hollywood is actually full of very weird human beings who have been lucky enough to make their living in a world of make-believe. A huge percentage of the people who work in this industry are strange birds, unsuited for working anywhere else.

Some of our biggest stars wouldn't last ten minutes working a real job; some of our most exalted filmmakers collapse inward if they're in a crowded room. They can have unusual talents, or beauty, or unique perspectives and abilities that have propelled them to various levels of success, or even stardom, but they're just normal, neurotic people.

And success, fame, and money can really twist people. It can be like radiation. They can go full Gollum from it.

But most people who work in Hollywood are not stars at all. The vast majority of people who work here are not rich, not famous. Most are hardworking craftsmen and craftswomen who are fighting every day to make a living, scraping by the best they can in an industry that is brutal, impersonal, and impenetrable. But every single person in this business - whether they are superstars or not - are just ordinary people. They're insecure, anxious, and prone to all of the failings we mortals are prone to. Some of them are awesome; some of them are assholes. But most of the people here (even the superstars) quietly feel like they don't belong, or that they don't deserve it, or that their sheer ordinariness will be discovered any minute. In fact, it's the people who seem to feel the opposite - those rare people who feel that they DO belong here, and deserve the lifestyle this industry can afford, who are inevitably the least likable ones I've met.

As I've been lucky enough to keep working in this business, I've met a lot of the people who I idolized along the way. Filmmakers and actors who I admire so much, whose work has shaped the trajectory of my life without them knowing it. I've been starstruck every time, and I am still am - I stammer, I freeze, and I kick myself for what I say, or don't say, or how I said it. I'm not good at it. I have acute social anxiety, and when you throw me at someone I admire, I turn into a blubbering idiot. They say "don't meet your heroes" because you may (likely will) be disappointed by just how ordinary they truly are. Or worse, they may even turn out to be people you wouldn't want to interact with in normal circumstances - your heroes might be people you wouldn't want to invite to coffee. The persona you have admired is a product in itself, something you bought, something you have taken home and displayed proudly in your imagination... but the human being behind that persona is full of all the ordinary failings. That can be really hard to reconcile. So yeah, a long-winded way of saying that I've had the experience of meeting people I admired a great deal only to be disappointed, or worse. I've got some nightmare stories in there where the actual person violently shattered the idol I'd built in my imagination. I won't share those stories, there's little point in that, but instead I'll talk about the rare exceptions - the few heroes I've met who were every bit as awesome as I'd hoped they'd be. They may say "never meet your heroes," but they haven't met Mark Hamill. I worked with Mark on The Fall of the House of Usher, and he is one of my favorite people. Kind, generous, humble, and so, so funny. I was nervous and excited to meet Mark for the obvious reasons, because of the hero he was in my imagination - but I got to meet Mark the actor, the father, the husband, the humanitarian, and the friend. Guillermo Del Toro - one of my biggest heroes, his work has meant so much to me. And I was terrified to meet him. But he is one of the most joyful, honest, sweet-natured people I've met in the business, and his love for movies is infectious. For me, the man himself exceeded the myth.

I've been lucky to meet other exceptions to this rule, heroes of mine who exceeded my expectations - Ewan McGregor, Mick Garris, Brian Henson, Heather Langenkamp, Henry Thomas - and yeah, I've had the other experience too. But I try to focus on the exceptions. It can be unhealthy to idolize people - unhealthy for you, and unhealthy for them. But it's truly awesome when someone is even more amazing than you imagined.

[wild-typo-turtle]

Threads - Part 11

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content (parts 9 and 11), canon-typical violence; loss of parents; grief/mourning. This chapter also contains very light smut.

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare, @the141bandicoot; @inyx-writes44, @melmel-fandom, @hufflepufferine, @shadows-and-flowers, @xcrybaby555x, @bespectacledhuman

Face claim: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (contains smut), Part 10

A/N: Well, I'm sorry everyone - I know I promised the wedding for the next chapter, but the file hit 10k and the flow was terrible, and so the first part is what you're getting now. I still plan to get the actual wedding out this week, likely Friday or Saturday! Thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter. -WTT

Part 11

The afternoon sun bathed the weaving room, painting it in shades of soft, hazy pink and gold. The fabrics on the looms shone in the light; Linnea was working a white velvet on the velvet loom, and on the regular loom, she was just beginning a new test fabric in shades of grey. The sunlight turned it brighter, almost purple; she was mixing linen and wool for a soft, easy drape. And if she was successful with the charms she had planned, it would be a pattern she would share with the weavers that helped clothe the army.  

Her eyes anxiously passed over it. Her hands, idle now, twitched to work, to let out the nervous energy that filled her.

But this day was not a day for weaving.

Adabes and the servants had done their work well. All was in readiness; a sideboard had been moved into the room, and was laid with fruit and bread and cheese and various other refreshments. Wine had been set out, as well as water flavored with mint and lemon. The weaving room itself was immaculately clean, all of the tools and supplies neatly put away, all of the scraps of fabric and ends of threads swept up. 

A book sat on the table next to her, but she barely recalled the title. She had brought it to distract herself while she waited, but she might as well not have taken the trouble. There was no distraction possible.

Fortunately, she did not have to wait for long.

A stamp on the landing alerted her to the first of the arrivals, and her ears strained for a hint as to who it might be. She heard heavy boots, grunts - 

A fist thumped on the door, and it swung inward.

“The Princess Disa, of the Dwarven realm of Khazad-dûm.”

Linnea rose, and as she did so, the princess stepped into the weaving room. 

She was dressed in light grey, a silken fabric that flowed around her figure and draped in a way that made Linnea want to examine the weaving much more closely. And there was gold upon her everywhere: a heavy gold pectoral necklace with triangular pendants dangling from it, as well as gold bracelets, gold beads upon her gown, and even gold paint staining her thick dark hair and her fingers.  

Linnea wondered if such a thing had ever happened before. Disa’s husband, Prince Durin, had met and treated with Gil-galad. But had there ever been a meeting of an Elven queen and a Dwarf princess? If there had, it had surely been hundreds of years ago.

Disa stopped after a few steps, and she curtseyed deeply as the door shut behind her. 

“Lady Linnea,” she said. “On behalf of all Khazad-dûm, I thank you for welcoming me into your halls.”

It had been a careful plan that they had made together, herself and Gil-galad, debating various strategies for how they might receive the most important of their guests. They had considered a more formal dinner for this last night before the wedding, but had eventually settled on separate, more casual affairs, Linnea with the women and Gil-galad with the men. Even now, he was likely greeting Prince Durin, as well as the Elven lords that had also arrived in the last two days.

She supposed she should be grateful that there were fewer women for her to manage. Oropher had brought his queen, and his son had come as well, but Thranduil was not yet wed. And the lord of Lórien’s wife had perished some time ago. She had extended the invitation to Commander Galadriel, and to the commander of the Eastern Armies as well, but all told, she would not be working as hard as Gil-galad.

And with that thought, part of her regretted the other decision that they had made concerning that evening.  

She would not go to him that night. They would not take their tea together; they would not discuss their days; there would be no shared pleasure. They would stay and sleep apart, this final night. They would rise separately and prepare for the wedding, and only once they were ready would they see each other again.  

She knew her bed would feel empty without him. It had been easy to grow accustomed to his warmth next to her, the sound of his soft breath as he slept. But it added weight, if any needed to be added, that this was the very last night she would sleep alone. 

And besides that, it was probably a good idea to stay apart, after what had happened the previous night. After how near she had come to be standing there, greeting the Princess Disa, as a married woman. 

It is the second time Ereinion has done this. The first had had her nearly cracking her own spine in half at the feel of his tongue between her legs. And while that first time had been pleasurable beyond belief, it is even better now; with repetition comes perfection, and she lies there moaning and incoherent as he tastes her. Her slender legs are over his broad shoulders and his hand teases, two fingers slowly slipping in and out of her in rhythm with his lips and tongue. 

And once she’s had her pleasure, he slides up her body for a deep kiss. Neither of them is wearing much at all, and he’s on top of her, and her thighs are tight around his hips, and it would be so easy. 

So easy.

He looks into her eyes, and a word from her would shatter his resolve - what is left of it. She looks back at him, and a word from him would shatter hers.

And perhaps that knowing, that unwillingness to speak it but willingness to accept it, is what stops them in the end. What has him rolling off of her, wrapping trembling arms around her trembling self, holding her until the fire ebbs a little and they both have their breath back.  

It is not much longer to wait. 

She drew in a breath, and made her own curtsey to Disa, whose eyes widened at the movement. 

“Princess,” Linnea murmured. “You are most welcome, and I thank you for gracing my hall with your company.”

As they took each other's measure, she found that she liked the look of this Disa. Elrond had returned late last night, with Disa and Durin accompanying him; this was the first sight Linnea had had of the Dwarf princess. She had met more Dwarves than most Elves, due to the merchants that had frequented Eregion, and their ways were not so strange to her. There was a strength about the princess that ran as deep as the mountain she called home; she could be a formidable ally, if the seeds that Linnea was planting eventually bore fruit.

Disa smiled, folding her hands in front of her. “My husband may have made his grand protests, but he understood the honor you showed us with the invitation. If he'd kept saying no, I would have dragged him here by his beard. And he would have thanked me for it in the end.”

Linnea laughed; the words conjured an image of herself doing the same with Gil-galad, only by his hair. She wasn't at all sure she'd win that fight, although it might be rather amusing to attempt it.

“Please,” she urged. “Help yourself to refreshment, if you like. I am sure you must be tired from the journey.”

Disa needed no further encouragement. She made her way to the sideboard, looking appreciatively at the array of food that was laid out. “We did keep a fast pace. No time to spare, to get here in time. And we'll be needing to head home again as soon as the wedding is over.”

Linnea nodded. She could guess the reasoning behind it, the maneuvering for the throne that they had heard whispers of even in Lindon. Gil-galad’s thought to use their wedding as a message, inviting the prince and throwing their support behind the candidate most friendly to Elves, had been a sound one. Part of her disliked that they had to consider such things, but the rest of her knew that that was the life she had chosen. Almost everything would be political now.

“Then I shall do everything I can to ensure you enjoy your time here,” she said, smiling as Disa took a plate and began heaping it full. 

“You've certainly made a good start,” the princess said, popping a piece of cheese in her mouth. “A full stomach goes a long way to ensuring a smooth road.” 

Linnea chuckled again. Now that this first greeting was over, her nervousness was beginning to settle down, and she felt confident enough to join Disa at the sideboard and pour herself a glass of wine. She watched as the princess turned, starting to glance around the room even as she ate, and her heart fluttered with pride at the look on Disa’s face. The Dwarf woman was impressed. 

Her eyes landed on the frame loom, and she let out a satisfied sound. “I knew I'd like you when Elrond said you were a weaver,” she said, beginning to walk to the loom. “Do ye know what it's going to be yet?”

Linnea nodded, walking over to join Disa at the loom. “If all goes well, it will become the pattern for a cloak for Lindon's armies. It is something my mother was very gifted at - laying protective charms on the threads. I learned much from her.”

Disa's brows lifted, and the impressed look was back on her face. “I thought I could feel something from it. There's a sort of vibration, isn't there?”

Linnea knew that other Elves could feel the art to varying degrees, depending on their sensitivity. Most would have at least a feeling of safety and protection. But to actually sense the charms at work? She could do it, especially if it was the art of someone she knew well, like her mother and father. So could other weavers. But a Dwarf? 

She groped for words, stunned almost beyond speech. “How is it you can feel it?” she managed. 

Disa smiled, satisfied to be affirmed. “We Stone Singers use our voices to resonate with the mountain that is our home. Aulë granted us the gift to sing to the rock so that we may take from it properly and know where best to leave it undisturbed. This fabric has a song of its own, for those with the ear to hear it.”

A thousand questions leapt to Linnea's mind. If she had had her way, she would have spent every moment until the wedding the next day interrogating Disa about what exactly a Stone Singer was and what resonating meant. A fancy crossed her thoughts of arranging a visit to Khazad-dûm; the logistics and politics of an Elven queen visiting the Dwarves were second to wanting to witness this stone singing for herself. 

But then Disa hummed.

Linnea felt the fabric come to life at the sound, as brief as it was. The charms she had laid so far were subtle, more experimentation than anything else. But at the sound of Disa’s voice, the intensity increased tenfold; she could feel the faint protections even without touching the fabric. The magic radiated off the cloth, rolling off it in waves. 

Disa’s eyes had gone wide. She could feel it too.

All thoughts of propriety fled from Linnea’s head. She rushed to the loom, laying her hands on the fabric, the better to feel what was happening. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” Disa was stammering. “I did not know - “

“No.” Linnea was running her hands over the cloth, only half-hearing. “No, do that again…please…”

Disa hesitated, but finally did as asked. She hummed again, louder that time, and there was more effort behind it. The hum had dimension, and the fabric responded accordingly; it was like sunlight striking a piece of crystal, scattering rainbows in all different directions. 

She couldn’t help the smile, the grin that came to her lips, as the hum faded. She turned to Disa standing next to her, and the look between them transcended any and all difference between Elf and Dwarf.

There was another strike upon the door.

“Queen Tinnaril, of the Woodland Realm.”

Linnea straightened up, trying to calm her expression. The weaver in her grumbled at the interruption, wanting to ask Disa to hum again, perhaps even sing - and the rest of her laughed at that part, that she could even think of wanting a queen to leave her alone.

But she was a queen now, too. Or would be, by this same time tomorrow.

Tinnaril came through the door, her face betraying nothing of her thoughts - not even when she saw Disa standing by Linnea’s side at the loom. The queen of the Greenwood was of a height with Linnea herself; they were Sindar kin, smaller and shorter than their Noldor brethren. Tinnaril’s hair was icy blonde, the same as both her husband and her son, and her leaf-green eyes were shuttered as they swept about the room.

She was clad plainly. Oropher had desired to live a simpler existence than the rest of the Sindar and the Noldor, and his followers had merged with the Silvan elves of the Greenwood many years ago. Tinnaril’s gown was a sage green fabric, without embroidery or jewels; the cut fit her well, and she wore a filigreed silver circlet, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest that she was royalty.

Linnea had known such, and had dressed carefully for the day so as not to make Tinnaril feel uncomfortable or annoyed. Her gown was one of the simplest she owned now, a dusky lavender with only a small amount of gold detailing around the cuffs and the neck, and she had bade Pendes forgo any jewels in her hair. The only concession she had made to ornament was the thin gold circlet tucked in her curls.

Tinnaril had stopped a few steps from the door, and she carefully folded her hands in front of her. “Forgive me for the interruption,” she said, her voice even and calm. “I was unaware you were occupied, Lady Linnea.”

“No - of course not, you do not interrupt.” Linnea moved away from the loom, extending her hands. “Be welcome, my lady. And thank you for making the journey.”

Slowly, Tinnaril took the offered greeting. Her hands were cool and smooth in Linnea’s; she squeezed for precisely the correct amount of time, and then released.

Oropher and Tinnaril had arrived two days ago, and since then, Tinnaril had kept to herself. Linnea had sent messages of welcome, invitations to meet, but all of them had gone unanswered save this one. She wondered if Tinnaril had only come now out of a feeling of obligation. She had asked Gil-galad to tell her of the queen, that she might know what to expect, but he had had as little to offer as Arondir all those months ago.

I am sorry, melethel. I have met her seldom, and she spoke but few words. She lives apart from court. 

Linnea had known that from Arondir, but had still shaken her head in amazement, wondering how such could be. She could not imagine wanting to live apart from Gil-galad, and he had smiled when she had said so.

Nor I you. May the Valar grant that it is always so between us, my love.

Tinnaril was still standing there just looking at her, and Linnea fumbled for words. “Queen Tinnaril, this is Princess Disa, of Khazad-dûm. She and her husband Prince Durin are great friends of Lord Elrond.”

“I see.” 

Disa made another curtsey - although Linnea noticed that it was much shallower than the one the princess had given to her. “Your Grace.”

Tinnaril raised one thin blonde brow, making no move to return any sort of gesture, and Linnea fought the urge to gulp. There had been conflict between Oropher’s people and the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm; Oropher had moved his rule ever northward to avoid the expansion of the Dwarf realm. Linnea had counted on the goodwill of the wedding keeping things civil - as indeed it had, with helping to mend the rift between Durin and Elrond after Eregion.

Perhaps this had been too much to ask, as she beheld the chill in Tinnaril’s eyes. But on the other hand, she wasn’t leaving. 

“Do you practice a craft, my lady?” she asked, desperately trying to find words to fill the silence. “I believe you are aware I am a weaver. Princess Disa and I were just speaking of her art as well - she is what the Dwarves call a Stone Singer. I was not familiar with such.“

Disa nodded eagerly; clearly she felt the tension in the room as much as Linnea did. For a moment, Linnea appreciated the ludicrousness of the situation; she was more allied with a Dwarf princess than a queen of her own kind. 

“It isn’t spoken of much outside of our own people,” Disa said. “The work of the Stone Singers is sacred. We safeguard the mountain, and in return, it allows us to call it our home.”

Tinnaril’s lip curled slightly. “Your work has borne fruit, it would seem. We hear the ceaseless noise of Khazad-dûm throughout the Woodland Realm.”

Linnea’s throat tightened again, and her heart sank. Gil-galad had been working so hard to forge an alliance with Oropher; the Woodland Elves were proud and distant, those ties were as fragile as the finest-spun silk. This couldn’t be helping matters at all; for all she knew, she was not just breaking those thin threads but setting them aflame.

She had been shocked before. She had spent most of the last months in a state of disbelief. But what Tinnaril did next outstripped it all.

The Woodland queen turned, and Linnea's heart sank even further; she hadn’t thought that that was possible. She could feel Disa’s worried eyes on her as Tinnaril walked back towards the door, and she tried to think of something to say, anything - 

Tinnaril swung the door open, and she leaned out to catch the attention of the guards outside.

“Send to my rooms,” she commanded. “Fetch my harp. The brown leather case, near the hearth.”

Linnea stared. Disa stared.

The door swung closed again, and Tinnaril turned back to face them.

“I have lived with Dwarven noise all my days,” she said firmly. “If I must continue to be subjected to it, I would know whether there is any pleasantry to be had. My craft is my music, Lady Linnea, and if the princess consents to it, we shall make some together.”

Linnea turned slowly to Disa, who looked as stunned as she herself felt. The princess could not manage words; she simply nodded. 

Tinnaril’s lip curled again. But this time, there was warmth to it.

“Very well.”

It was long hours later when Linnea finally sat at her dressing table, letting Pendes comb out her hair. 

They had indeed made music. She herself could sing well enough, although nothing compared to Disa, but had no skill with an instrument. And so she had been content to watch and listen, and weave a little, as the queen and the princess had passed the hours in song. Galadriel had come by, as well as a few others, and they had enjoyed the music and refreshments. But none had remained for very long. 

It had reminded her of her parents’ shop, on those occasions when they had hosted musicians. The fabrics had seemed to weave themselves of their own accord, with the distraction of the melodies. And Taucion had had a fine voice; he had often sung along as they worked. 

The memories still hurt, a little. But they also reminded her - as had the afternoon - that she had the opportunity to make new memories. She could invite singers and musicians to her rooms, to spend the afternoon with the weavers.  

Pendes finished and bowed, and Linnea turned. Lavan was just coming in from her nightly circuit of Linnea's rooms, and she shifted to be able to look at them both.

“Is all ready for the morning?”

Lavan nodded. “Yes, my lady. We will arrive at the normal hour.”

The feast was set to begin at midday; her normal rising time would be ample to prepare. Her dress was hung carefully to air out, and really, there was little enough to do that was not part of her regular routine. 

She smiled at Lavan. “Very well. Then I bid you both goodnight.”

They bowed and left, and Linnea rose from the dressing table, slowly wandering back into the main room. It would be early to retire to bed, but perhaps it was a sound notion? The following day would be long and busy.

And the following night.

Her cheeks heated, as she settled herself by the fire, lacking anything else to do. She cast a glance to the side; she had her own kettle, and could have easily prepared tea for herself, but it was not the same any more. Evening tea was no longer solitary, it was a shared time, and the idea of drinking it alone seemed sad somehow.

There was a small stack of books on the hearthside table, and she glanced over them. She had been reading the works of Pengolodh, last of the Loremasters, in an effort to learn more about the history of the Noldor. But as captivating as the words were, having enough focus to read seemed the height of fancy.

Melethel.

That candle slowly lit in her heart, the one she'd become more used to feeling now. It was always there, banked and softly burning, but it came to life each time Ereinion reached out to her. She had an easier time hearing him than he did her as of yet, but that would come in time.

She smiled at the sound of his voice in her mind, settling back in her chair and closing her eyes. Meleth nín.

Was your afternoon enjoyable?

More than I had dared hope. She summoned a memory of Tinnaril and Disa together, experimenting with what Tinnaril had admitted was one of her own original compositions. It had been just the three of them at that point, Linnea at the loom, and it had gladdened her heart to see the differences between Elf and Dwarf put aside in the name of creating something beautiful. And she felt Ereinion’s happiness as he beheld it. And yours, aran vuin?

This time she felt him sigh; felt a touch of the weariness on him. As well as could be expected. Oropher is proud. He lost no opportunity to jab at Durin. I am grateful Elrond was there to mediate, otherwise I might have exiled them both from Lindon permanently.

Linnea laughed softly, her eyes still closed. I am sorry I was not there with you. 

You had your own work to do, my love. And by your account, you accomplished it admirably. There was a pause. I miss you. I cannot recall why we thought being apart tonight was a good idea, but I regret it now.

Do you think to tempt me to come to you? She chuckled again, letting him feel the warmth his words brought to her. We seem to have found a way around it, even so.

There was an answering chuckle, an answering warmth. I do not. I shall hold to our agreement. But perhaps…

There had been no specific images in her mind up till then, except for the memory of the prior afternoon. But a scent reached her nose, the scent of growing things and wildflowers, and there was a warmth all over her skin - as if she were outside in the sun. 

And finally, she could see it, fading in from the dark behind her eyes.

It was the field she’d taken him to, that afternoon after his training session. They were lying on the same blanket, in the same position; Ereinion’s head was in her lap, and her hand was gently stroking through his hair. 

“I think of this day so often,” he murmured. “How it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.”

She smiled. The ósanwe had grown so strong; it was as if they were really there. She could hear the chirping of the birds and the buzz of the crickets. Ereinion's hair was like silk beneath her fingers, just as if she were really touching it.

“You had never laid in a field after a picnic before?”

She was teasing him, and he smiled up at her, reaching for her free hand and bringing it to his lips.

“I had never laid in a field with my wife,” he said softly. “I had never set my sword down after training, only to see my wife coming to me with a laden picnic basket. I had never felt so loved, melethel - until the next day, and the one after that, and the one after that. All the days since that very first, you have given me more love than the one before. I can only hope I do the same for you.”

She took their entwined hands and nestled them against his chest, right over his heart. “You need not wonder that for an instant,” she murmured. 

He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes, not speaking. She ran her fingers over the back of his hand, letting him enjoy the peace for a few moments before she spoke again.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?”

His lips curved. “More than I have ever been, for anything,” he said softly, eyes still closed. “I feel that I have prepared for this all my days. Even the night before my coronation, so long ago - I did not feel such. I had never expected to be High King. And it was a hurried affair, with war raging, and my chief concern was to have it done with.”

“I wish I could have been there,” she said, stroking her hand through his hair again.

“I do not.” His brow creased, remembering. “As much as I would have been glad of you, melethel. It was a hard time, and our people lost much. I would not have lost you as well.”

There was a catch in his voice. She had a guess as to its source, especially given the direction that their conversation had gone. His sister Finduilas, taken captive by orcs while he had still been a child during the Wars of Beleriand, and ultimately slain.

She squeezed the hand she held, and pushed out through the ósanwe, lighting her own candle in his heart to give him comfort.

“You never shall,” she whispered. “After tomorrow, we will never be parted, not truly.”

Her words brought the smile back to his lips, and he squeezed her hand back. “And you, melethel? Are you ready?”

In answer, she bent, pressing her lips to his. They might have been in a vision, in a place conjured by the ósanwe that was not real, but the kiss was no less warm nor loving for it. She felt him holding her hand tighter to his heart, returning her kiss, and nuzzling against her nose as she released his mouth.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I am.”

It was all she could say, and all that needed to be said. It drove the last of the long-ago shadows from his eyes, and he reached up, running his thumb over her cheekbone.  

“I am grateful for this time with you, but we should not remain here long,” he murmured. “It is not so taxing when we are so close. But I would not have you tire yourself tonight, not when tomorrow holds so much for us.”

She could feel it - just a slight drag inside her, a faint pull on her fëa. It was worth it, to have had even a few moments, and also worth it to know that this sort of an interlude was even possible. There might be times in the future when they would have to be apart, when this would be the only way they could be together.  

But it felt so good to be with him. This memory was precious to her too, and it was so calming, sitting here with her back against the tree. It soothed the restlessness she’d been feeling; after this, she could rest, and wake refreshed to everything that the next day would bring. 

“Let us stay a little longer,” she said softly, and was rewarded by his smile. “Just a little longer, meleth nín.”

Continue to Part 12

[shadowynn]

| in love and lore | ten |

pairing: ot8 ateez x fem reader

genre: fantasy/daemon/soulmate au

warnings: some cursing, some violence, mentions of blood

wordcount: 8.5k

a/n: so, i know it's been a minute, and i'm sorry. i'm just a little bad about writing multiple stories at the same time as i get super absorbed in one or the other. but, it's finally here and i hope you all enjoy. i know at some point i said we'd have a yunho moment, but sadly that has been moved to the next chapter, but don't worry, it's coming! once again, thank you for all the support and love!

| nine | ten | eleven |

~~~

My blood is on my own hands.

The words replayed inside Hongjoong’s mind, repeating themselves over and over again and the way you had curled back into yourself when you had looked at the dead body beside you one last time haunted him. It was the same state you were in now, nearly half an hour later. You had managed to secure your thoughts well enough from them, but your emotions leaked through the walls you had built inside your mind, filling him and the others with the guilt that racked your body. 

It took everything in him to not go to you in that moment, desperate to ease your mind and convince you that none of this was your fault. If anyone were to be blamed for what happened, it was him. It was his fault the borders of the camp hadn’t been secure enough and his fault for allowing you to be in harm’s way. He should have never dropped his guard around you. He should have never left you alone. He should have made sure one of them was around you at all times, but he hadn’t. He had let himself grow lax with your safety and had nearly lost you because of it. What would have happened if one of his men hadn’t heard you and came to investigate? What if he hadn’t gotten the message relayed in time? Would he have still gotten to you in time? Or would it have been too late?

He struggled with this last thought, uncertain what he would have done if he had lost you tonight. He had just found you, had just finally gotten you; and the thought of losing you just after finally having you in his hands sent a wave of fear running through him that he hadn’t felt in years.

He remembered exactly what had happened to Seoyun all those years ago, remembered exactly how much the death had hurt her. And even now, nearly a decade and a half later, she wasn’t the same. A part of her had died that night alongside her mate. 

The thought of going through that very same thing terrified him. It left him fighting every fiber of his being that yearned to never let you out of his sight again, to keep you right by his side for as long as he could. It left him fighting the urge to lock you away, somewhere no one could ever get to you. Somewhere no one could ever hurt you. And despite knowing you were completely safe and secure in Jongho’s hands, he still couldn’t get rid of the urge to be with you himself. 

“Hongjoong.” He hadn’t noticed he was moving until Mingi stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. “Rushing her isn't going to help right now.” 

Hongjoong nodded, collapsing back down in his seat. He knew that, but the urge to make things up with you was still there. The apology he had given you earlier replayed itself in his mind, reminding him of how flat it had seemed to fall. If he could just go to you for a minute and convince you that it was his fault, that he was to blame, perhaps…

“Jongho's got her, see?” Mingi replied, taking note of the way your emotions had temporarily lifted, the guilt that had racked your body disappearing for just a moment. 

But despite Mingi’s assurances, it was clear he and the others were of a similar mindset. Though a relative silence had settled amongst those who remained in the camp, he could feel the tension that had settled between them. Each one of them fighting the same inward battle as himself because they had failed just as he had. They had sworn to keep you safe, that nothing would happen to you, but they had very nearly lost you tonight. The notion made all the worse knowing it had happened right under their care. 

“The camp should be secure now.” San interrupted their conversation as he made his way inside their tent, wrapping a cloth around the palm of his left hand to stop the bleeding. “I put another barrier up around your tent as well, Hongjoong, ensuring we���re the only ones who can get to her at the moment. I know she doesn’t think it was one of our men who did it, but I didn’t want to take any more chances.”

Hongjoong nodded, fully realizing that was something he should have thought of himself when he had doubled the guard for the rest of the night. And he would have, if he had been thinking clearly, but he hadn’t. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to try and access his memories?” Wooyoung brought back the topic from earlier as San collapsed down onto the cot next to him, not quite content with his earlier answer. “I don’t think there’s any harm in trying; not as long as we have the antidote in hand.”

“No, I don’t want to risk it.” Hongjoong shook his head. Wooyoung had made it clear he had no qualms risking his life by ingesting the dead daemon’s blood in an attempt to piece together what exactly had happened tonight, but the idea hadn’t sat well with him or the others. Not with the bloodsbane that still contaminated it and not after what had happened to you. He couldn’t go through two scares like that in one night. “Not when we don’t even know if it would work. You’ve never ingested a dead man’s blood before.”

“Well, what about hers, then?” Wooyoung was quick to ask instead. “Perhaps we could get a better idea of what exactly happened if I saw-“

“No.” Mingi cut his second idea off before he could finish it. “She already hates that she can’t keep her thoughts to herself because of the bond. Imagine how she would feel if you were to go through everything she had thought and experienced over the past day.”

“But if I asked her first, maybe-“

“You really think she would agree to that?” Seonghwa leaned forward in his seat, settling his chin into his hand. “That she would just let you shift through her thoughts and feelings of your ride with her from earlier?”

“But if it’ll help us find out who-“

“Wooyoung.” Hongjoong’s voice served as a warning, but he wasn’t upset, not when he knew all the younger daemon wanted to do was help. “y/n already went through everything she remembered with us, so I doubt you would be able to gain any information that would prove beneficial. The best course of action at the moment is to wait to hear back from Yunho and Yeosang.”

“And have they found anything yet?” Seonghwa asked.

Hongjoong closed his eyes, reaching out towards the bond that tied himself to Yunho. The tent he was currently sitting inside faded from view, turning into the forest they had been traveling through the past few days. The woods were dark this time of night, the trees surrounding them blocking the majority of the moonlight, but he could just make out the shadowy figure of the wolf Yunho was using to track just a few feet ahead. Once Yunho had caught sight of the tracks near the original attack site, his shadow beast had been able to catch the scent of the person who had been there. Unsure of what exactly waited on the other end of the trail, he had sent Yeosang with him to hide their presence and given orders for them to stay out of sight and await further instructions once they reached the end of the trail. 

Have you found anything? Hongjoong repeated the question to Yunho, hoping he had more information than what he was seeing at first glance. 

“No,” Yunho’s voice was low, breathless from the time he had been running, “but I think we’re nearing the end of the trail.”

Sure enough, Yunho’s observation was correct. Just a few moments later his beast came to a stop at the edge of a small clearing. Even knowing they were fully covered from sight with Yeosang’s ability, they still came to a stop beside it, peering out into it from the cover of the trees in search of a sign of those they had been tracking. 

“No one’s here.” Yeosang was the first to make the observation, quickly taking note that though there were clear signs of a makeshift camp at one point, the clearing was now abandoned. There were no visible signs of anyone still being within the surrounding area, quickly scattering before any form of retaliation hit them. 

Hold your cover for just a moment longer. Hongjoong pulled back from Yunho, bringing himself back to his current position at their camp. He turned to Seonghwa beside him, ready to meet up Yunho and Yeosang. “They’ve made it to the camp.” 

He didn’t have to convey anything else for Seonghwa to nod his understanding and take the wrist Hongjoong extended in his direction. Despite being long used to the mechanics of Seonghwa’s ability, he still tensed as his fangs sunk into his skin, taking in the blood he needed to transport Hongjoong alongside him. 

In a matter of seconds, he had joined the other two miles away, taking in the site with his own two eyes. Yeosang had been right in his assessment, besides the three other daemons currently with him, he didn’t sense any other auras in the surrounding area. Whoever had been here before was now long gone, taking off into the night. 

And why would they have stayed? While the true intent of their attack was uncertain, it was clear they had attempted some form of secrecy with it. Whether it had been just a means to scout them out, sneak inside and find a way to him, or something else, he wasn’t sure, but their plan had failed the moment you had shown up. You had unknowingly ruined their plan, causing them to turn heel and run for the time being. 

“Should I have Haru track them further?” Yunho asked, scratching his shadow beast behind its ear when it nudged its head against his hands. Despite not truly being alive, Yunho’s beasts acted strangely lifelike, uncanny only because of how different they were from his predecessor. Yunho’s care towards the beasts clearly showed in the way they manifested themselves with his blood. 

Hongjoong was silent at first as he approached the clearing, taking in the dying embers of a fire. Whoever had been here, had left in quite the hurry, not bothering to hide their previous presence there. By the amount of tracks littering the grounds, the group had been small, no more than a handful. Whether they had been human or daemon, however, it was impossible to tell, but he leaned towards the latter. Something strange had gone on tonight in the attack, something that only became possible with the daemon’s maetha. 

Though they had quite the head start, there was no doubt they would be able to catch up with the group. As long as they had a hint of one of their scents, Yunho’s beast would be able to track it for miles. Whether or not that was the best way to spend their time and resources at the moment, however, he was unsure. 

A part of him was well aware it might have been in their best interest to just let them go. Tracking them down could very well take days to complete, spreading his guard thin, especially Yunho and Seonghwa, who would carry the majority of the work on their own shoulders. And if Seonghwa was right, if it was part of the militia groups that had caused mayhem for his father, there was a very good chance they would never find them at all, wasting all of their time. It might very well have been better to just stay on the defensive, continue on towards Taeyang with extra caution. The attackers had lost the element of surprise, making it much harder for them to attempt anything else the remainder of the trip. 

But he couldn’t let go of the fact they had hurt you, and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let them just get away with it. Accident or not, it didn’t matter; he would make sure they paid for their crimes. He would make sure that everyone knew you were not something to be messed with; that there were consequences to those actions. 

“Are you up for a long chase?” Hongjoong straightened up, turning back to the taller daemon. A part of him was aware you would likely be against this decision, aware you would likely want him to just leave it be and move on, but he couldn’t. Not when the situation had affected you the way it had. Not when he knew his inaction could very well risk your life again. 

Yunho nodded, and the beast at his side sprung into action, beginning to sniff out the trail the previous occupants had taken. 

“I’ll stay with Yunho for now. Yeosang, you can head back with Seonghwa and let the others know what’s going on.” Hongjoong began, fingers itching to be on the hunt. Your words continued replaying in his mind even now, and the sight of you clinging to Seonghwa hit him once more. The only thing he wanted more than to be by your side at this moment was to bathe himself in the blood of the man who had done that to you. “We’ll stay camped where we are now for the time being. San set up multiple barriers, so y/n should be safe, but-“

“Don’t worry,” Yeosang put his hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, “we won’t let anything else happen to-“

“Something’s wrong.” Yunho interrupted them from across the clearing, bent down next to his beast, “Haru can’t catch a scent.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I thought maybe he just needed more blood for the second chase, but even with it, he keeps acting as though their trail ends here.” Yunho looked up to the rest of the group, wiping his bloodied hand against his pants. “He caught something, I’m sure of it, but once he reaches the end of the clearing, it’s gone.”

“And what does that mean?” Yeosang’s head tilted, eyes glancing between each of them. “That they just, what… disappeared?”

“I don’t think so,” Yunho’s brow furrowed, attempting to get Haru to track the scent once more. “I can see their tracks running off in this direction, but Haru doesn’t seem able to track it.” 

“Hongjoong.” Seonghwa’s voice was low, etched with worry. 

“I know,” Hongjoong replied, coming to the same solution Seonghwa had. It was one he had known was a possibility all along, but one he had very much hoped wasn’t true. Because if it was, they had much more trouble on their hands than they had originally believed. 

“But why now? Why after all these years do they act now?” Yeosang asked, eyes sweeping the grounds around him in a new light. “What was their goal? What did they possibly hope to achieve tonight?”

“I don’t know.” Hongjoong went over your words once again in his mind, hoping to glean just a bit more information. Your hesitation had been clear, almost certain it hadn’t been their guard who had attacked you in that moment, but he had brushed your worries aside in the hope that you were wrong. Because if you were right, and it hadn’t been one of their own that had attacked you…

“Forget the trail. There’s no way we’ll be able to track them now.” He ran a hand through his hair, unable to keep a string of curses from rolling out. “At least not from the ground. We’ll head back for now, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to get a set of eyes in the skies before we go.” 

Yunho nodded, and his wolf dissolved into the shadows around it, replaced a few seconds later by an owl. It quickly took off into the night, sent out searching for any sign of their attackers from above. Even if they couldn’t track them down physically, any sort of information they could glean would be beneficial, even if it was just the size of the group.

With Yunho’s scout sent out, they prepared for Seonghwa to take them back to camp and tell the others what they had discovered. No one would be happy with the news they brought, and as much as Hongjoong didn’t want to resort to it, he now questioned whether or not Wooyoung had been right. Perhaps attempting to shift through the memories of the dead daemon or your own was the best move to make. Perhaps it would give them information they wouldn’t be able to get elsewhere.

God, he thought this night couldn’t get any worse, but he had been quickly proven wrong. He had thought things would get better now that the war was over, but if they were right - and all signs were beginning to point that way - human retaliation was now the least of his problems. Because if it was them who had appeared tonight, he had a whole new series of problems to attend to, especially if they had found out about you and just who exactly you were. 

~~~

Angel, are you alright?

You looked up to find Jongho still standing before you, faintly aware that he had still been speaking to you. Whatever he had been telling you though, you had missed, too wrapped up with your own thoughts to take his words in.  If Jongho minded, he didn’t show it, simply proffering the items in his hands over to you now that he knew he held your attention once again. 

“Once you’re done, you can sleep here tonight.” Jongho didn’t press you for an answer to the question he had asked you in your head, most likely repeating whatever he had been saying when you had lost focus. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

You nodded, accepting the bundle he handed over to you and setting it down on the table beside you to avoid getting any of the blood that coated you onto them too. A small part of you was aware the clothes Jongho had given you were not your own, most likely an extra set of Hongjoong’s, just as that same part of you was aware Jongho was requesting you sleep here tonight. If circumstances had been normal, you would have argued your way out of each, not seeing the need for either when your own were just a few tents down, but you were too exhausted to argue. And after everything that had just happened, you didn’t completely mind, not really. 

You weren’t sure exactly how you felt. Once the adrenaline had worn off, you were left with a wide variety of emotions flooding your system. Your first concern had been the daemon who had died, consumed with a guilt for not saving his life, for not acting quickly enough. But as guilty as you felt, your anxiety was quick to take over. The thought of what might have happened to you if the other daemon hadn’t come to investigate floored you. What would have happened if he hadn’t gotten Hongjoong like you asked? Would you even still be alive right now? Or would you have gotten yourself killed?

While you had often tread closely to the heat of the battles during the war, the only significant injury you had ever received was the stray arrow in the fight at Maehwa. It had been painful, there was no doubt about that, but you had soldiers nearby who were well trained and able to get you to safety and ensure you were never in any immediate danger as they helped to ensure you could heal yourself. But tonight, tonight you had placed yourself in a situation where you had been completely helpless. If it wasn’t for the nearby daemon whose curiosity had gotten the better of him or the surprise the daemon felt at your presence once he had stabbed you, you didn’t doubt you would be in a very different situation than you were now. If you were even still alive. 

It was the same thought that was in everyone’s mind tonight, but unlike yourself, they each had pinned the blame on themselves; racked with the guilt of seeing you injured under their care. You could feel hints of their remorse flowing through to yourself, making it difficult to differentiate between your own and serving to make you feel worse overall. The only person who was at fault tonight was yourself. You had been the one who had gone out on your own, yearning for some peace and quiet away from them. And you were the one who had gone after the daemon instead of running and getting help for the both of you. Why they would blame themselves for your injury, you didn’t understand, and you wished they would see the only one at fault was yourself. 

“Jongho.” 

You reached out for his wrist, pulling him to a stop before he could leave you. You weren’t sure exactly what it was that you wanted to say, or why exactly you had stopped him, consumed with a yearning to stop the guilt that played in his own mind. But anything that you might have thought of fell away when you caught his gaze, taken back by the raw emotion displayed there; the tenderness in his features making your heart leap. The sudden yearning to cross the distance between the two of you and envelop yourself in his arms struck you quickly, and before you could process the thought completely or how the action might have been met by him, you were giving in and doing just that. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You weren’t sure exactly what you were apologizing for as your arms wrapped themselves around his chest, quickly burying your face into his neck and relishing the warmth his body brought. You could feel him initially tense as you tugged yourself into him, but just as you were about to pull back out of embarrassment, he responded and swiftly wrapped you up in his own embrace.  

“For what?” There was a slight edge to his voice as he spoke, clearly taken back by the sudden show of vulnerability you had given. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But you’re standing there blaming yourself over something I did.” Your fingers grasped at his shirt, attempting to somehow pull yourself in closer. Your chest thrummed at the close contact; his touch helping to fill the hollowness that had plagued you since the bond had been put into place. “I should have acted faster. I should have gotten a hold of one of you first. I’m not a fighter, I know that, and yet, I can’t seem to stop myself when someone’s in danger no matter how many times I get myself hurt.”

You didn’t regret your actions, not truly, but as the panic faded and your mind cleared, you quickly began to see everything you had done wrong. You had lost precious time in your indecision, time that could have been much better spent getting someone who knew what to do in the given situation. While you knew you would never forgive yourself if you just left the guard to die, you had long come to see how foolish your actions had been. You could have very well gotten yourself killed alongside him and then how many more would have died without your warning?

Soomin often got onto you for your tendency to head into dangerous situations, completely forgoing your own personal safety for the sake of others. A part of you was aware her worries were warranted; she was looking out for you and only wanted to make sure you always got back home in one piece. But it was difficult for you to put your life above those around you. You understood where she and Hyunwoo came from, knowing you would do anything and everything to keep them safe if your roles were reversed,  but it was hard to put the same priority on yourself. You had never done well when someone died under your care, unable to live with the knowledge you might have been able to do something for them. 

And tonight you had once again put your life on the line and very nearly gotten yourself killed. When Soomin heard about what happened, you’d never hear the end of it, and quite possibly neither would any of the eight men who had promised to protect you. Though they might not blame you for what happened, you knew Soomin would waste no time telling you how unbelievably stupid you had been. 

But it wasn’t only your actions and regrets that had taken your mind captive for the night, and the more you went over everything in your head, the less it all made sense. Why had the attackers only shot the one arrow? Why had you not been shot at when you had finally found the strength to act? And what had happened to the guard under your care? He had died, you were certain of it, and yet, he had moved and spoke with an ease that should have been impossible. And even if it hadn’t been, even if he had somehow miraculously healed himself, what had he been going on about? You hadn’t made out much in your injured status, much more preoccupied with the dagger sticking in you, and yet, what little you had heard had only served to confuse you further. He had seemed completely surprised by your appearance, and though you had likely never spoken to him before, he should have been familiar enough with who you were and what you could do. He should have known you were there to help him and he should have known you were perfectly safe inside the camp. 

“And we should have never dropped our guard around you. We should have been more diligent with your protection.” Jongho’s grip loosened, pulling you back just far enough so he could look you in your face. “We promised that nothing would happen to you under our care and we failed.” His hands left your waist, moving upwards to cup your face and ensure your gaze was directly on him. 

“And I told you that you can’t always fight my battles for me, nor do I expect that of you.” You shook your head. “I understand you want to protect me, but as much as you may wish it to be otherwise, you won’t always be able to be there, and blaming yourself each time it happens will only serve to make me feel worse.” You lifted your hand to meet his, covering it with your own. “Despite what you may think, I don’t blame any of you for what happened tonight and I won’t hold you accountable for the consequences of my own actions. My life, my blood, is in my own hands and no one else’s.”

To your surprise, the hint of a smile appeared on his face. “Has anyone ever told you how annoyingly stubborn you are before, angel?”

“It may have been mentioned a few times before, but,” you huffed, unable to keep your own smile from peaking through, remembering how Yeosang had told you something similar a few weeks ago, “that’s besides the point. I want you to stop blaming yourself for what happened tonight.”

“Only if you agree to do the same.” He retorted back, causing you to narrow your gaze. 

Now who was being stubborn?

You didn’t try to hide your thoughts. If anything, you wanted him to hear it, and seeing the way his shoulders lightened at your teasing remark and the smile it tugged on his lips lifted a small weight off your own chest. 

Now that the tension in the room was beginning to dissipate, you were becoming aware of just how close the two of you were and found it not quite as easy to hold his gaze any longer. Your eyes shifted to the side, hoping the hands Jongho held to your face covered the blush working its way up the back of your neck. But one quick glance back in Jongho’s direction showed you weren’t the only one growing flustered by the events. 

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t keep a frown from peeking through as you did your best to gently step away from him, taking in the blood that now stained his own clothes. He let you go with little resistance, scratching at the back of his head. “I wasn’t thinking.”

He followed the direction of your gaze to his shirt, understanding just what you were apologizing for once he saw the stains for himself. “Oh, don’t worry about it.” He waved your concern away. “This happens quite often.”

“Right.” You nodded, shuffling awkwardly. You recalled Wooyoung’s words from the first night in their camp, how he had mentioned Jongho’s tenacity on the battlefield. He had been right though, you never would have expected that out of the daemon standing before you, seemingly just as flustered by your previous exchange as you were. “Um, well, I should probably wash off.”

“Right.” Jongho repeated your earlier sentiment. “I’ll be outside then if you need anything.” He motioned to the exit behind him, giving you one last look before turning to follow through with his words, bumping into the table behind him in the process. 

You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the giggle that threatened to come through, thankful it had been Jongho with you tonight than any of the others. He was easy to be around; his personality most like your own and the least out of all of them to tease you about it later on. 

Your conversation with him had helped to alleviate your nerves, allowing you to temporarily forget your worries for just a minute, but it didn’t take them long to return once he was gone and you were left alone scrubbing the blood off your body. With the difference in color between the two it was easy to differentiate the two from each other, the flecks of white signifying the lower daemon’s rank and a stark contrast from your own. 

You quickly sank into the water drawn for you, wanting to be rid of the sight as soon as possible, but no matter how much you scrubbed, you didn’t feel clean. How was any of this fair? That you got to live through the night and not him? And for what? Why had he been killed? What had been their motive?

Hongjoong had said it was most likely nothing more than the scattered remains of some human battalion, but you had a hard time believing him. If they weren’t happy with losing the war, then why hadn’t you seen or heard anyone while you were out? Why hadn’t the snuck into the camp and continued their killing spree? Why hadn’t they attacked you when you had attempted to get him to safety? And how had they gotten their hands on bloodsbane, a poison humans were incapable of brewing themselves, and one complicated enough that only a few people knew how to brew other than yourself.

Nothing about the attack gave any sort of evidence towards them being human, but them being other daemons didn’t make much sense either. If it had been daemons upset with the way the war had ended, and upset with your presence here with them, then why hadn’t he tried to finish you off quickly in the end? Why had he seemed to show you mercy and not just kill you when he had the chance?

Your fingers brushed against the skin where the dagger had sunk into. There was no physical sign that you had been stabbed recently, the area unblemished and smooth beneath your fingertips. What would have happened to you if your blood hadn’t had its healing properties? Not just tonight, but yourself in general? What would have become of you if you hadn’t been able to heal yourself and others from the brink of death with just a few drops?

You had never seen your ability as a curse. How could you when it had saved you and so many others? But you would have been lying if you had said you had never wished to exchange it for something else. At the time, you would have traded it and your ability to brew potions away if it meant you could be human. If it meant you could have an easier life and fit in, you would have eagerly given it all away, but now, now you weren’t so sure. You didn’t think you yearned to be human anymore, but you didn’t want to be fully daemon either, nor did you want to continue being stuck in the middle. You just wanted to fit in, to not be judged and controlled by those around you. You just wanted to be yourself, but exactly what or who that was, you didn’t know anymore.

You didn’t stray in the water for long, climbing out and tugging on the clothes Jongho had grabbed for you earlier. If you weren’t certain they were Hongjoong’s before, you were now. They smelled distinctly of him and you couldn’t resist the urge to pull the collar up to your face and breathe his scent in. Your senses weren’t as strong as a daemon, but you were familiar enough with his to detect the subtle hints of it in them and the tent around you. It left a wave of warmth flooding through you, easing the stress the night had brought and making you wonder why you resisted the bond you had with each of them so much. 

Perhaps if things had been different. Perhaps if you hadn’t been their mate and you hadn’t been forced into all of this with very little choice. Perhaps if they hadn’t been daemons, if they hadn’t been the king and his generals and you not a half-daemon. Perhaps then you wouldn’t have been so afraid of what the future held and afraid of getting hurt. It was safer for you to keep your distance and safer if you continued to refuse their advances, because the moment you let your guard down, the moment you finally gave in, you would only have opened yourself to get hurt. It had happened before and it would happen again. You had long learned those above you only treated you kindly because they wanted something from you, and the moment that use was gone, so were they. 

Which is why you hated the bond that tied you to each of them, hated the way it filled you with emotions and yearnings so against your natural inclination. You wanted to keep your distance, wanted to keep yourself safe, but fighting it was so damn hard. It warped your emotions, making it difficult to differentiate between what was real and what was fake, because those emotions and thoughts were fake, right? Created by whatever magic they had used to effectively tie you to them. Despite how real they might have felt, they were manufactured. They had to be. And yet, you couldn’t stop the deep yearning in the pit of your stomach to walk back outside the tent and bury yourself back into Jongho’s arms. 

You forced the thoughts away before you got yourself obsessing over how exactly each of them felt about you once again, the very thing you had gone out into the night to avoid earlier. The realization would have made you laugh if it didn’t depress you so much, fully realizing now that staying in bed would have been the wiser thing to do. But, you hadn’t, and one look at the bed in the corner was all it took to let you know sleep wouldn’t be coming for you anytime soon. Your brain was still much too active to sleep.

You didn’t want to be alone either, though, and despite the awkwardness you felt over your last interaction with Jongho, you couldn’t fight the part of you that craved to be near him once again. And though you didn’t want to give in so easily, you wasted little time thinking it over and heading outside. The daemon had kept his word, and you found him settled on the ground next to the entrance when you stepped outside. He fiddled with a dagger, flipping it in between his fingers, but his movements stilled when he heard your soft approach. 

 “Is something wrong?” Jongho asked as you settled on the ground next to him, just far enough to avoid brushing up against him.

“No,” you shook your head, “I just don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep anytime soon.” You brought your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and shivering slightly from the night air. The daemon’s clothes were made of a lighter fabric of your own, coming from the warmer climates of the south, but winter was fast approaching. “And laying in bed with only thoughts to occupy myself will only serve to drive me crazy.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I don’t think so.” You did your best to avoid his gaze, still slightly embarrassed by your interaction with him earlier. What did he think of it? “I just don’t really want to be alone right now.” 

It was strange enough having someone who cared that wasn’t family, but even stranger knowing just who was sitting beside you. After all the rumors you had heard about him and the others, you never expected the man sitting beside you, let alone that he would be your supposed mate; someone bound to you by the ancient magic of the daemons. It left you wondering just who the real Jongho was: the bloodthirsty daemon on the battlefield or the shy, blushing boy next to you now.

It left you wondering just who exactly the others were as well. There was no denying the darkness inside each of them, but was that their true nature or one built by the cruelty they had been shown themselves? You remembered the first night you had with Hongjoong. The man had oozed the aura and feel of the daemon king he was. His very nature and actions fitting the man you had heard of. He had gleefully killed Hayoon without a second thought, and yet, there was the Hongjoong you had seen in private. The Hongjoong who had very nearly broken down when he had explained how your parents had died, and the Hongjoong who had clung to you as though his very life had depended upon it.

“Jongho, what was your childhood like?” The question was out before you could stop it, curious for a peek of the boy he had been then. “Before you discovered you were a part of the Black Guard, that is.”

“Oh, well, it wasn’t much different from what it is now.” If Jongho took offense to your prying question, he didn’t show it. Instead, he crushed the dagger he had been fiddling with - reminding you of the other question prodding at the back of your mind - to free up his arms and lean his weight back against them. “My father has been training the king’s soldiers for almost two centuries now, so I grew up in the royal court and was familiar with the royal family before I became a member of Hongjoong’s guard. In fact, I was quite close to both him and Seonghwa before my horns turned black.”

“The two of you grew up in court?” You asked, just now realizing how little you knew about all of them. Besides the little bit of backstory Yeosang had revealed to you before, and the bits you had put together by comments here and there, you didn’t really know anything about any of them. 

Jongho nodded. “It was far less glamorous than you might imagine, especially for Seonghwa. His mother was a handmaid for Hongjoong’s mother, the current queen at the time, but their are never many children in the city, so we often spent time together despite the queen’s distaste for it.” 

“She didn’t approve?”

“No, despite being far from noble blood herself, she never approved of Hongjoong associating himself with anyone she thought was too far beneath him,” Jongho replied, causing your stomach to twist. You hadn’t given Hongjoong’s mother much thought before now. In fact, you hadn’t even been aware if she was alive or not, but you couldn’t help but selfishly begin to wish she was dead. If she didn’t approve of Seonghwa before he was chosen for the Black Guard, what would she think of you? Someone who wasn’t even fully daemon? “She didn’t mind me quite as much; my father had earned my family’s name respect, but she did often try to keep Hongjoong away from the both of us, saying he needn’t concern himself with those outside his guard, so you can imagine her shock when our horns both turned black, especially Seonghwa’s.” 

“She sounds lovely.” You couldn’t keep the sarcasm from coming through, tightening your grip on your legs. You had known all along the issues your presence would bring when you arrived in Taeyang, but Hongjoong’s mother had not been a source of anxiety for you until now.

Jongho chuckled, oblivious to how much his words had affected you. “That would be one way to describe her. She was never nearly as bad as his father was, but she was his mate…” His smile faded away and you knew exactly where his thoughts had traveled based on the way his entire demeanor fell. You had learned exactly what sort of man Hongjoong’s father was.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through when you were younger.” Your head fell to his shoulder, hoping to be able to comfort him in some way and feeling guilty for bringing the past memories back up. Physical touch made the bond thrum for yourself, so you hoped it would do the same for him now, conveying the empathy you felt for him. Based upon the way his body relaxed and leaned further into your touch, you figured you were right. “I wish I could have been there for you sooner.” 

“How have you done it, angel?”

“Hmm?” You tilted your head towards his face, not quite understanding what he had meant.

“This world has not treated you kindly, and yet, you haven’t let it destroy you. You haven’t let it corrupt you. Despite everything you’ve gone through, you treat everyone with a kindness they do not deserve.” 

“I guess when you’re born into a world that hates you, you learn very quickly you can either let it get the best of you or simply make the best of it.” You shrugged, settling further into his side. A part of you was conscious of the vulnerability you were showing him, warning you to pull back before you got yourself into a situation where you ended up hurt, but after everything that had just happened, you were too exhausted to care. It felt nice. He felt nice. “And with my ability to heal, it just feels natural to want to help those around me. No matter who they are or what they’ve done.”

“That doesn’t mean you should live with the weight of the world upon your shoulders. That doesn’t mean you should blame yourself every time someone dies around you.” His reply made you stop. “You didn’t kill the guard tonight nor have you ever killed anyone else that may have died under your watch. Your hands are clean.” 

“You’re wrong.” Your grip tightened itself on your legs, unable to stop the pit growing in your stomach. “Am I not at least partially to blame if I had the ability to save them and chose not to? Would you not hold some resentment towards me if I had decided to not save Seonghwa? Would you not have held some of the blame on me?”

He was silent for a moment and you didn’t dare look him in the face, terrified of the guilt you would find there. You already knew the answer to your question, fully realizing he had every right to think that way. That it was perfectly reasonable for him to put the blame on you, but that didn’t mean you wanted him to. That didn’t mean it made you feel any better. You didn’t want to be right.

“Do you blame Hongjoong for your parents’ deaths?”

Your lips twisted, unsure how exactly his reply made you feel. No, you didn’t blame him for what had happened. Perhaps a part of you had for a minute, seeking some sort of vengeance for what had happened, but you knew it wasn’t his fault and you couldn’t, wouldn’t put the blame on him when you knew it was his father’s fault and not his own. 

“Perhaps a part of me would have been upset if you hadn’t chosen to save him, but it would be wrong to pin the blame on you. You shouldn’t live your life on the expectations of others. The choice should ultimately be yours.” 

You knew his statement was meant to be supporting, but it fell flat, causing you to pull away from him. “Well, no one has ever seemed to care what I want in life before. That has always seemed to already be decided for me.” 

“Angel, I didn’t mean… shit.” Jongho pulled back as well, running a hand through his hair as a string of curses rolled out. “I’m sorry.”

“I know and I’m trying, it’s just…” You were trying not to be resentful, trying to understand things from their point of view. They were trying to make up for the past, right? You could see it in their actions, but that didn’t mean the past didn’t still hurt. It didn’t take the sting away from his words. It didn’t make him feel any less of a hypocrite.

Your chin settled in between your knees, the current conversation reminding you of the one the two of you had had the night everything had changed. But as frustrated as you were with everything that had been said and done, you couldn’t shake your own guilt from that night. While Jongho’s own words had stung and his actions hurtful, you now realized the weight your own words had on him that night when you had mentioned he had no idea what it was like to not have a choice. At the time, you had thought it to be true, frustrated by how he and the others had been dictating your every move, but that wasn’t true. Not exactly. Not after what you had learned about his past.

“I’m sorry as well.” Your grip tightened against your legs once more, but your head fell back to its former place on his shoulder. “That night Hongjoong killed Hayoon, I said some things that I shouldn’t have. You know exactly what it’s like to not be given a choice and I apologize for implying you didn’t.”

“Angel, you have nothing to apologize for.” Jongho leaned into your touch, head falling on top of your own. “You had every reason to be upset that night and it should be me apologizing for it.” 

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still wish to…”

A yawn escaped your lips, mumbling your words. The exhaustion that had built up inside you the past few days was finally taking a hold of you as the adrenaline of the events left your body. Jongho’s gentle presence next to you only further helping you to relax and while you knew it was probably for the best if you took the time to try and sleep, you didn’t want to leave his side.

“If you’re tired, you should go sleep.” But the way his arm had snuck around your back to help support your body told you he was of a similar mindset as you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded your head, but it was easier said than done unfolding yourself from his side. Jongho didn’t attempt to push you any further, letting you stay next to him as long as you wanted, but the moment you did pick yourself up and disappeared back inside the tent, you felt your anxiety crawling back once you were alone again. You couldn’t keep a frown from appearing as you stood in the middle of the tent, hating how being separated from them made you feel. You had spent your whole life by yourself, fully able to deal with your anxieties and problems on your own, but now that they had entered it, you struggled. Even with Jongho just a few feet away, and the rest not too much farther, your chest ached, wanting nothing more than to curl back up with Jongho, craving the relief his presence brought.

There was some relief in knowing it was Hongjoong’s tent you were in, and though you had some hesitation sleeping here for the night, curling up in his bed helped to ease your mind a little. You buried yourself beneath the covers, once again breathing in his scent that surrounded you, and for a very brief moment, you wondered what it would be like if he was here with you. A thought that sent you quickly hiding your face under the covers despite fully knowing no one could see you at the moment. But as embarrassed as the thought made you, you couldn’t help but wonder for the briefest of moments what would happen if you did call out to him. Would he come?

It reminded you of your earlier interaction with Wooyoung, a moment that had happened less than a day ago and yet felt so far away after everything that had happened. Despite the uncomfortable spot on top of the horse, you hadn’t slept that well in ages, at ease in his arms. And after everything that had happened, you found yourself craving a moment similar to that once more than you ever cared to admit. 

The realization left you groaning, rolling over and burying your head once more as you did your best to kick it and any other similar thought from your mind. But as aggravated as you were with the thoughts, it was a blessed distraction from the rest of your other worries, and though it took a minute, your exhaustion slowly began to get the better of you and you finally drifted off to sleep.

~~~

taglists are now in reblogs :)

[sinner-sunflower]

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 19/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Hello!!! How's everyone's weekend?!

I had the most relaxing trip of my life. Me and my best friend went on a picnic and the place was so gorgeous I wish I was rich enough to have that kind of landscaping.

Anyway!

Here's my update. I hope you all enjoy.

As always: likes, reblogs, and ESPECIALLY COMMENTS are so appreciated and it honestly gives me motivation. We're near the end meaning this might end this week :((

Disclaimer: I did get some help with chat gpt for some paragraphs just to get my ideas across and also because English is not my first languagee. I edited them of course myself because u know how automated shit can be.

I'm learning I promise!

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Every denizen of Hell held their breath in anticipation as each agonizing minute passed without a word from the King. Some feared he had met his demise the moment he entered, leaving them grasping at false hope. The Overlords pondered the same grim possibility but dared not voice it in the presence of higher demons.

Amidst the tension, the task of pacifying Paimon fell upon the Goetias, who found themselves ensnared in his relentless tirade about their illustrious King and their collective duty to fix Hell's problems, a duty he believed lay solely with them, not Lucifer.

The Sins, meanwhile, remained vigilant, their eyes fixated on the entrance through which Lucifer had disappeared, searching for any subtle sign of their brother's fate.

Satan, ever watchful, kept a peripheral eye on Goodie. The Good of Humanity had fallen into an unusual silence since Lucifer embarked on his suicide mission. Unlike the rest, she wore neither worry nor despair on her face, hell, not even of glee; instead, there was a knowing glint in her eyes the Sin of Wrath definitely did not like. He could only hope Lucifer emerges from all of this still himself.

At the very back, Vox stole a glance at his rival, noting the whatever-the-fuck thing he had with the King. He half-expected the radio demon to remain his usual apathetic self. And he was half right. The guy was smiling with no care in the world. Yet, to his surprise, a strained smile is etched the demon's face. It's not as noticeable but if you've been looking at Alastor as closely as Vox had been for the past how many years, it's like a giant pimple you can't ignore. There was a glassy look in his eyes, as if the radio demon is going to-

Vox wonders incredulously if his wiring got fried by that shockwave earlier because there is no fucking way.

The media demon is silently thankful he couldn't finish that thought as they are knocked down once more.

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It all unfolded in a blink, leaving them no time to respond. The ground quaked with a force that they realized was from the towering tree that's trembling before them. Roots and branches contorted, twisting inwards and outwards like a well-oiled machine, as if the very essence of the tree was tearing itself apart. Red flowers all around withered as the oppressive miasma dispersed. Then, with a thunderous crash, the colossal tree collapsed into a single heap.

The dust clears presenting a lone figure stands in the center of it all.

Belphagor: Lucifer!

There stood the King of Hell, his horns protruding proudly and his corrupted halo casting an ominous black glow. His six wings spread wide, a testament to his power and dominance. It was Lucifer. But... something seemed off.

The Sin of Pride appeared altered. His once pure white attire had transformed into black, adorned with accents of red. His porcelain skin, once flawless, now bore a grayish, melancholic hue. However, the most striking change lay in his hair—it was no longer the radiant gold of angels, but a sinister black with tendrils of creeping red, moving like of the deadly miasma.

Lucifer looked like a shadow of himself.

Before anyone could react, the fallen angel lunged towards Goodie, swiftly pinning her to the ground.

Lucifer: Ẏ̷̨̖̯͎̤͎͖̪̆̀̊͌͑̓̇o̵̻͗̔͊̃͘̚͠ṳ̸͎̍̊͗̌̈ ̵̱͙͇͛͑i̴̳͈̗̺͒̏̃̀̚͝n̸̢̧̖͖͚͉͙̤͇͆̃͛͊̿͛́̚͘s̸͇͚̱͍͈̤̘̒̂̈́̆͗̈̆ͅó̵̇̅́͜l̶͇̝̞̜̰̘͊̒͂̓͝ë̶̮͔̰́̀̑̔̽͊̐n̶̡̧̗̤̘̞̑̇̀t̴͙̲̳̦̦͎͔̠̔ ̵̮̰̞͐̌͌b̸̧͚̾i̴̧̜̪̳̤͔̹͉̦̇͠t̴͖̐̀̾̌̽̎̂̅͜ͅc̵̛̞̳͛̋̆̏͆̏h̷̟̺̬̗͗̉̓̍!̴͉̲̼̪͓̻̪̻̀̊ ̷͇͓̲̬͍̦̙̹͓̔̈́͊̇

Goodie chokes from the stench of hellfire on her skin.

Goodie: I never lied to you, angel. I told you that you were the key.

Lucifer: Y̷̢̘̻̩̲͐͋̐̌́́͝ŏ̴͎̌́u̷̟̯͋ ̶͔̝̘̓̈́̄̈́́̀̐ǵ̸͍͌͝͝á̵̧̫͔̤̘̹̓͗͂v̶̢͕̘̼̦̰̐ẽ̵̝̥͈̝̓͋̌̋͠ ̸̝͙̐̓m̵̩͖͍͒͌͛̔e̸̤̹̻̪͇͔̽̇ ̵̜̬̰̟̖̘͈̐̆̀á̸̻̜̬̫̝͇͚ ̷̢̗̠̮͊ͅf̶̡̩̟͘͝a̵̢͎͆k̷̲̰͓̤̐͌̽͐̿̕͠e̷̛̪̖̅̒̀̓͐͜ͅ ̸̭͙̫̂̚ͅs̴̩̝̺͕̲̯͒e̸̮͍̤̦̯̎̈́̔̌̇͌ä̷̳̖͓̒̕l̶̦̬̙̘̝̉̏̔̈́͆͘͠.̸̨͓͉͒̄̚ ̶͈͆̽̿̋̑̈̕T̶̗̹̱̞̭̩͉̍͆̀̚é̵̹̗͖ļ̶̜̬͍͓̗̿͑̾̋̏̕l̸̛̀̆̓̾ͅ ̷̡̗̼̀̿̓m̸̛̗̞͕̠̟ę̵̬̰̻̮͎̉̓ ̵̥̩̞̮͈͖̅̃̑͜͝ŵ̷͈̥͕̦̘̙̏h̶̝͈̬͖̲̯̝͊̓̕ȳ̴̱̓̄̎͝ ̵̛̣̭̘͔͋̏́̀̋I̵̡̦̬̬̫͓̭͆̍͌͗̍́̀ ̶̛͈͆s̵̛̗͙̙̭h̷̝͌͌͜͝͠ȏ̴̝̹̻͚̾́̃̔͘͝ư̸̮͓̰̖͔̙̇́͊̽̐̔l̶͙̟̙̣̮̱̞̂͌̏͗d̴̢͊͒̉̈ ̸̠̠̮̉̿n̴͚̯̜̫̊ō̴̡͉̪̥̗̹̲̽̄̀̕t̴̢̺̱̊̉̎̕͜͠ ̷̛̹̜̿͝ķ̴̻͚̙͔̈́͊̍í̸̥̼͕̮̾̿͌l̷̢͂̏͆͊̃͠l̷̡̨͎̪̝̖̱̽̽̓͐̀́̈́ ̷͖̿̋͛y̶̻̝̆͂͝ỏ̸̧̹͇̫̀̐̀̍͋̃ų̶̟̩͔͇̝͚̎̈́̑̕͠ ̵͍̃͗͠ẁ̷̝̟̥̰̘͎͒͛́͒h̵̦̜̩̬͋͐̋ė̶̃͜ṙ̸̡̧̟͉̻̬͚̅e̵̤̮̟͌̓ ̴̹͕̮͍̺̲͇̉y̴̨̛̪͛̍̓̏ô̴͔͍͉̅̈́̌u̴̙͖͖͎͐͛̒ ̶̟̙͍̖̭̃̌́l̵̙̽̈́̐͝á̷̡͔̞͈̜͎͒͌̑̐͝y̴̼̹̪̻̒̓̽̀̚?̴̛̻̘͈͍͕̒̃̀̓̏

Goodie: It was not a fake. Without it, you would have perished the moment you set foot in-ah!-side.

Lucifer: H̵̹̩̗̑̎̈́́̕o̷̘͝ẇ̷̢̨̛͇̞̝̦̠̎ ̸̯̹͋̃͑͘͝d̴͉̭̟̫̙̠͂à̶͎̮̝̺̺̥͙̓͛͂̒́ŗ̴̡̺̬̭̝̳̓̈́̑̍͝ĕ̷͓̕ ̸̺͈̖̣̳̃y̴̜̞͆͑̉͠o̴͓͋ủ̸͈͎̳̥͈̞̍̀͜ ̸̥̑͐̇̂̈́̐͝t̶͓͋r̶̼͠ỉ̸͍̻̫̩͍̓͌̍̄͝ċ̷̞̤̭̳̈́̓́̃k̶̖̹͙̋̓̑̀̅̔͊ ̵͙̠̻̜̎ͅt̵̛͇̀̑̀h̴̛̥͉̲̬̰͛̊̀̅͝e̵͇̮̫̟̗̍͊̓ ̶̰͎̟̜̗̈̋͂̓K̶̞͉̰̫̂͂̋͝ͅi̷̯̟̤̽͛̈͑n̵̬͙͑̉̍͊̕͠ģ̸͖͍̪̉͗̂͠ ̷̣̯͖̭̜̀ͅǫ̵̨̣̿̽̑͜f̶͔͖̬͐͌ ̸̼̅̿͒̎́Ḣ̴͎͕̳́ͅe̶̛̞̱̦͈l̴̡̲̯͔̰̱̂̅̀̄̈͗͋l̸͍̩̯̗̏?̴̯̥̭̦͙̃̏!̸̼̹͍͖͒̊̅̊̌̔̍

Goodie: Do not delude yourself. There was no chance that this could have ended differently.

Lucifer was heaving so much that Goodie could sense his energy waning. Seizing the opportunity, she managed to escape his clutches. Despite the danger surrounding her, (such bothersome loyalty) she couldn't resist letting out a chuckle, teasing the angel one last time.

Goodie: I gotta say, angel, I do like your new look. Corruption definitely suits you.

Lucifer: F̸̢̨͔̲͖̖̳͍̑̽͜U̵̼̪̰͈̟̜͙͌́́̅̈́̔C̷̢̯͓̘̬͖̝̎K̶̳̖͓̘̝̗̀̓̈́̾̉̾̾͊͠͝Î̶͇͕͚̪̭̎N̴͉̟͍̻͇̚G̵̠̲̰͈̖̎͂͋̾ ̴̧̥͕̹̭̘̜͍̟̎̂̔͗̋̿̒B̶̢̦̤̥͕͉͋̂͌́́͂̈̔͠I̸̗̭̼͊̐͂̀̈́̐̏̐T̸̠̹͓̮̱̻̹̯͉̦̍̔̽̍̄͌̆C̸͍̩̉̈́̈́̄͒̓͑̾͝ͅḨ̴̦̙͉̫̪̫̇̀̄̈́̋͘!

Lucifer then collapses to his knees, clutching his throat as if he's drowning in searing heat. Confusion and desperation fill his voice as he struggles for breath.

Lucifer: How? *gasp* why? *gasp* -trusted-

There's a flurry of movement around him, voices overlapping and blending into a chaotic white noise. Amidst it all, someone speaks with a commanding tone, their words cutting through the haze.

Alastor: Listen to only me, my dear.

There was a faint humming of music? Was Alastor here?

Alastor: I'm here, my Majesty. Calm yourself. You need not to panic.

He's trying, he really is. But his ears are muddled and he can't understand anything anymore. Everything is happening all at once, leaving him disoriented and terrified.

As consciousness begins to slip through his grasp, the Sin of Pride feels a sense of detachment. A new presence moves in front of him, accompanied by a chorus of apologies that echo faintly in his ears.

A cool sensation brushes against his fevered forehead, offering a brief respite from the overwhelming heat and chaos. And with that fleeting moment of relief, Lucifer succumbs to the darkness.

Roo: How fun~

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Transformation central! (Transformation central!)

Reformation central! (Reformation central!)

Transmogrification central!

[tanadrin]

Tjungdiawan on the Collapse

(Read on tanadrin.de)

The Collapse, of course, refers to that period in the late 21st century and early 22nd when the world began to gradually turn inward on itself; when pandemics and war intensified, when environmental upheavals reached their peak, when we saw the first proof that the ancient democracies could falter and fail, and when old ideologies began to crumble in the face of a new history. This is a time doubtless known well to most of my readers, but which I will nonetheless briefly retread, both for those who may need a reminder and because there are three lessons which we must extract from it, which will be indispensable in understanding all that has transpired since.

The first lesson stands before us, and is apparent at once. The period before the Collapse was famously one of optimism and hope. Even as the first signs of trouble appeared on the horizon, it was felt that these were but the last spasms of the conflicts of the 20th century working themselves out and they would soon be put right. It was not imagined that they were in fact the first of the lurking tensions and contradictions of the 21st century beginning to bear their poisonous fruit. In the imagination of these hopeful souls (with whom I find no fault greater than I might in any soul that ventures to dream of better things), the long road of history was now on a decisive upward ascent, to the sunlit highlands of peace and prosperity, a new plateau which would set a standard for all ages yet to come, and mark a decisive dissolution of the want and fear and hate of the primitive ages past.

It was not so. The road descended; darkness followed. This is the first lesson: there is no final redemption in the affairs of men. There is no glorious sunlit highland awaiting us; there is no utopia to which we grope, however distant. There are dreams of such, and they are mighty dreams: they impel the soul of mankind forward with the fervent knowledge of what is possible, despite all grievous ruin that stands about us, and these dreams are good and right and noble. And they are true, in the sense it is true that such aspirations may work great wonders. But the moment we are waiting for, the knowledge that the time of redemption is here, that the messiah is come, that the kingdom is restored, that all darkness is banished forever and suffering and sickness and time are at an end--that does not exist. And in the wanting and the waiting for that moment, we may find the dusk has been gathering for a long time, and we have not been watchful against it.

So it was in first decades of the 21st century, and in the first years of the Collapse. Those who hoped for the last triumph of liberal democracy, or the great socialist revolution, or the redemption of humanistic values, were all bitterly disappointed, and none were watchful. There was no battle: optimism gave way at once to despair, as if defeat had been ordained by the heavens. In North America, a long struggle ensued against resurgent reactionary politics. Successive civil conflicts disrupted the elections of 2032, 2038, and 2044; simmering unrest in Mexico and the western United States at times rose to an intensity characterized as a de facto civil war, but this was a war of masked men in the night, of disappearances and murder and terror. The California Anarchy of 2041-2055 spread as far north as British Columbia and south into Baja California; until the 2070s, Sonora, Chihuahua, Coahuila, and western Texas were de facto independent states, ruled with bloody repression by regional strongmen whom the Mexican and United States governments were happy to ignore so long as they paid the required tribute in taxes.

In Europe, pressure from Russia and from local nationalist movements caused the weakly-integrated eastern states of the EU to fall one by one from the Union's sphere of influence. Britain flirted with its own form of authoritarian politics, aligning itself with the reactionaries in the United States and with the Committee of Public Safety that had seized control of the government of Australia. The remnant of the European Union, led by the Berlin-Paris axis, became paranoid and militaristic, and political factions in member states that flirted with secession were unofficially suppressed.

More openly fascist governments, of a type thought extinct since the Second World War, blossomed in Indonesia and Australia. The former's ideology of a "Greater Indonesia," coupled with the weakening of the unipolar world order, resulted in a series of wars across the Malay Archipelago and Southeast Asia. The Fifth Indo-Pakistani War turned briefly nuclear in the 2050s, and the aftermath of this conflict resulted in famines and epidemics across South Asia. Episodes of terror now relegated to dismal footnotes by the other catastrophes of this era include the Chinese invasion of Taiwan and the subsequent "Special Administrative Procedures" that resulted in the death or deportation of 10% of that islands population; the Palestinian, Yemeni, and Second Armenian Genocides; the Second Korean War, which also saw the use of nuclear weapons; the Third Congo War; and the Brazilian Brush Wars.

Laid out together, it is a dismal catalogue of death and destruction, well worth the term "Collapse," especially against the future that had been longed for. Is it little wonder then, that in the 2060s a writer who had been young and hopeful in the first years of that century, had lamented that he was living in the last age of the world? K.P. Barstow wrote, in his final novel *Mariner,* "Now nothing is left, save the epilogue, in which we will not have even the comfort of a summing-up of all our sorrows." Every generation of our species since the first has produced pessimists who feel the world is about to end, that nothing can be rescued from the chaos that lies around them, and that nothing fair in their youth will ever flower again; and of those generations which endured the Collapse, perhaps, this is a more understandable sentiment than most.

I, too, understand it. I, too, was born in a springtime of the world, when the sorrows of past ages seemed distant and fading quickly, when the future seemed boundless and full, and the joys of my species seemed like they must only increase, forever. And I, too, have drunk deeply of the bitter draught of grief in seeing this future destroyed. I saw the pillar of atomic fire that rose above Jakarta with my own eyes. I saw how easily the bright cities of Sunda and Sahel were swept away. When the traitorous servants of that awful prince burnt the coasts of Java and Sumatra, they annihilated the little village I had once called home. I have kept the names of all whom I loved who I lost in those days close to my heart, and I repeat them still: the names of my mother and father, of my brothers and sisters, of my nieces and nephews. Each of whom deserved everything of the future that we dreamed of then, each of whom deserved to know that one day the stars would be open to us and we would build palaces in the sky; but now all of whom are lost, and who live on only in my memory.

In those awful and grief-filled days, when I fled with the other survivors through the burning ruins of Serang and Cilegon, hoping that there were still ships at the coast that might take us to Sumatra, or Kalimantan, or Sulawesi, when my skin was red with burns and my eyes clouded with ash and tears, when my belly was empty and my legs were weak, I remembered Barstow's words, and I thought to myself that he had only been off by two hundred years. Nothing is left, I whispered to myself, except for our sorrows.

In the morning we came to the docks and we fled far away; first to Manila, until by some mysterious grace we were granted passage to Shenzhen. In a hastily-erected outside the city I lay in a delirium of weariness and despair for three days. And for three days the sun rose and fell; for three days my companions brought me water and food; and for three days my life and the world and time all stubbornly refused to end.

And this is the second lesson, the lesson that in the end the children of the Collapse, and I, and all others who have endured unendurable loss have learned: there is always a tomorrow. There is no Yawm ad-Din awaiting us, no catastrophe so great that *something* will not remain in the aftermath, and if you find that you are among the fragments that have been shored against the ruin, you will find also that you must learn how to live again in the world that you now inhabit. After three days I arose from my cot, and went out into the sunlight, and began to think about what to do next. They were no great plans: I had hope that some of my family was still alive, and that I could find them. I had hope that I could book passage east, to friends I had in Canada. I wept. I had suffered far less than most. But still I wept, for the pain I felt then at being alive, and the pain of still having hope.

There is no period of darkness in human history so absolute that something does not flourish in unlooked-for places, and so too it was during the Collapse. While Europe fragmented, and the Americas struggled against the teratoid issue of authoritarianism and reaction, new growth bloomed in Africa, in Argentina, in central Asia, and even in the burned-over lands of southern and southeast Asia. Abuja, Nairobi, and Gaborone were flourishing; the East African Community was quickly becoming the most dynamic economy on the Indian Ocean, and the West, exhausted by conflict and anachronistic politics, was beginning to look south for new ideas, and found itself invigorated. Just as the "dark ages" were also the age of the Carolingian Renaissance, and the Second World War was also the engine of a new spirit of international community and cooperation, the Collapse was simultaneously the decay of an old world and the beginning of a long project of building a new one. Even amid the chaos, the seeds of the Second Space Race, of the Genetic Revolution, of the Pacific Conclave and the Renewalist movement, were all being sown.

The Collapse ended, not in a single cathartic event, but gradually and in different times in different places. The New Federalists came to power in the United States as the result of decades of careful political maneuvering; the European Union was reformed, and began to expand again; new constitutions were adopted in India, China, and Indonesia, and in Canberra the surviving members of the Committee of Public Safety were hung by a mob from the spire of Parliament House. In the uneven and insufficient compromises which allowed the world to begin looking to the future again, it is true that many deep injustices persisted. Many conflicts remained unresolved; many would rise to the surface again in paroxysms of violence, including (though we did not know it) the Solar Fitna and the Thousand Days' Strife.

Even in those uncertain days the distant stars awaited us, and here we come to the third lesson of the Collapse. For we have carried with us into the stars all our hopes for the future, and all our faults and vices. War, we still have with us; and want, and hate. Man is, as William Godwin might have it, perfectible but never perfect. All our past sins and suffering may be granted meaning only if we remained determined to use them as the foundation of a better future. I am a stranger now in those islands that once I loved so well, and the world of my youth, and the future that I hoped for, is now gone--as lost to me as the happy world the children of the twentieth century once hoped to inaugurate in the twenty-first. A different world awaits us now, and be our burdens ever so heavy and our grief ever so great, it is within our power, even if only a little, to determine what it will be.

--Tjungdiawan's Historical Reader, 3rd Edition

[bardic-tales]

happy sts!

gimme a sad snippet :( of anything really.

and then gimme a happy one bc I’m gonna need something to console myself with :)

<3

Happy STS, Star. Thanks for the ask, and I hope you are having a wonderful day.

I have been thinking A LOT on Bianca's final moments before she is reborn like a phoenix four months after this scene.

Sad Scene:

Content Warning: Blood, graphic injury, death or near-death experience, grief, intense emotions, loss, violence.

[. . .]

And then, the earth split open. Bianca fell. Her body crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. Blood pooled around her. A river of crimson stained the snowy, cracked earth beneath her. The battlefield went silent, like the deadly stillness before a tornado. There, amidst the desolation, lay Bianca. Her skin marred by the brutal force of Cloud's final strike. Her wings, once so majestic and powerful, now lay crumbled against the ground. Dark feathers scattered around her like fallen leaves. Her breath slowed, becoming shallow as she stared out lifelessly.

[. . .]

Sephiroth stood in the distance. His expression unreadable. For a moment, the world itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the One-Winged Angel's next move. The pain was visceral. The agony in his chest threatened to suffocate him. But, even as the world seemed to collapse around him, Sephiroth moved, slowly at first but soon darted so quickly he had became a blur. He had to get to her. How dare they! The thoughts echoed in his head.

[. . .]

"I will make you suffer for this. You have no idea what you've done." As the very skies darkened above him, he summoned the raw power of his being: Masamune. He was an avatar of wrath: a god incarnate, ready to take vengeance. He would never forgive him for taking her from him.

Happy Scene:

And here is a snippet of an upcoming work I'm writing featuring hot chocolate and holiday cheer. I try to make them embody the Sunshine x Grump shipping trope here.

[. . .]

Sephiroth's gaze returned to the fire. His expression thoughtful. "Cheefulness is foreign to me."

"That's okay," Bianca said, as she leaned her head against his bare shoulder. "We have time. I'll teach you."

His wing shifted slightly, curling inward as if to shield her from the outside world. It was a protective gesture and one that made her feel as though nothing could touch them: at least for the moment.

They sat there like that for a long time. The silence between them stretched with unspoken understanding. Her heart swelled with affection, as it most often did in moments like this. They were rare, but they were precious and a reminder that even in the midst of chaos and destruction that there was room for something softer.

His voice was the first to break the stillness. "You've given me something I didn't know I needed."

"What's that?"

He turned his bright cyan gaze to her. For a brief moment the weight of his usual stoicism lifted. "A reason to remember the world, rather than despise it."

Bianca gasped, but she managed a small, wry smile. "Hot chocolate does that to people."

"Perhaps."

Thank you for the ask, @seastarblue. This ask was brought by the @creators-club.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @littleshopofchaos @serenofroses @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@nightingaleflow @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐢𝐫

↳ notes: this is an extremely small piece that focuses on my gorillaz insert puck, and a small look into their life circa phase one

↳ warnings: allusions to heavy drug abuse

↳ song: i was all over her—salvia palth

sona masterlist | commissions | carrd

It was quiet. A blissfully, unmistakably still quiet.

The only sound the permeate the sea of nothingness was the occasional harmony of burning embers as slow fingers lifted up a cylindrical shape to chapped lips. Lungs expanded as air and something much more dangerous was inhaled, only for moments later to collapse inwards again as they pushed out the toxic mess. Early morning sunlight painted itself beautifully across stained linoleum tiles, and they were observed with a pair of red tinted eyes. It was a strangely peaceful routine. One they had taken part in far too many times to fathom.

Then the door to the bathroom swung open, and Puck blanched.

"Shit—" They were quick to hide the joint out of Noodles view, fanning their hand in sudden motions to push as much polluted air as they could out the open window.

"Noodle, hey." Puck fumbled. The sudden intrusion coaxed a harsh round of coughing from his throat, and he pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose before they could fall. The small guitarist just watched with a furrowed brown and downturned lips. She looked upset, and Puck wasn't sure if it was because of what she might have just seen, or something else. They hoped it was the later.

"Give me, uhm, give me a minute alright?"

Puck spared a glance back at the girl. She responded with nothing but a tilted head, and left spouting something pointedly in Japanese.

When the bathroom door closed behind her, Puck paused. Taking another look at the joint in their hands, they hesitated.

Eventually sighing, they pushed their torso up off of the window ledge, and put the rolled up piece of paper out on the windowsill to make their exit. Noodle was waiting for them just beyond the door with still hands and a still there frown. Puck let out a breath, and reached down to lightly knock their hand against her helmet with slower movements than usual. She fussed, just as they figured she would, and adjusted her helmet to what it looked like before.

"Hey, did you need something? I know Murdoc broke your last guitar pick a couple days ago. Do we finally need to run to the store for more?" Their voice tapered off as they padded down the hallway with Noodle, leaving the bathroom to stand empty.

The window stayed open. By the time 2D got up in the middle of the afternoon that day to use it, the heavy stench was gone.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Waiting With The Coffins Under Heaven

The AAA is not a strand of Posadism and does not share their helpless hopes of communistic Alien salvation or global collapse. Their yearning is the same as the pious Christians, waiting for Christ’s return and direction to a better place in a better time. The lathe of heaven does not exist. It must be built.

Nor does the AAA urge a resignation to one’s docile fate on this planet. However much it hurts to hope for the impossible, to imagine a future we don’t believe in (the Earth being saved, Global revolution, etc.), what matters is the strength we feel every time we don’t bow our heads, every time we destroy the false idols of civilization, every time our eyes meet those of our comrades, every time that our hands set fire to the symbols of Power. In those moments we don’t ask ourselves: ‘Will we win? Will we lose?’ In those moments we just fight. Even if we have no future on this planet, we can still find life on it today. One does not have to return to sleep after the alarm clock rings.

Most importantly, we are not advocating a definitive plan for leaving this planet or for what ought to be done in space. It is left to the self-determination of individuals and unions to decide what is appropriate and ideal for them. The accent is placed not on the content of a choice proposed, but the fact of choosing. Thus, the AAA decision is a decision to decide no longer (that is, the free activity of space without geography would be betrayed if it is subordinated to some conception beforehand.)

As I could sit here and lament about Stanford Toruses, O’Neill Cylinders, and my frothy daydreams of surgically implanting bonsai trees into lungs and dining at souvlaki space stations, but why burden this manuscript with frivolities? Better to go out without constraint later, when day is done, to perfect the design – grown greater in the uncertain twilight of mere dream – in that inward moment that turns upon itself, yet never repeats itself. The AAA is less of an organization than it is a network of individuals and unions cooperatively working toward a defined beginning – leaving this planet. All that can come from the AAA are tools, not answers.

Because as much as this reads as a manifesto, it isn’t one. It is an invitation.

I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon…

Astronauts of all determinations, unite! We have a world to lose, but a universe to gain!

[1] While it is true that the hyperbolic statement of capitalism’s totality ignores the areas of the world unaccosted by its imperialistic desires and the resignation of America to alleged patriots is ignorant of indigenous views, I maintain that one’s theories must be about their real life. I do not aim to provide a comprehensive and impervious blueprint for the AAA. A diverse range of voices is necessary to make the AAA the successful network it could be. Thus, if there is something I left out, that I am mistaken, or there is a correction to be made – write it yourself. The purpose of the AAA is to allow space [pun unintentional] for individuals and affinity groups to act with unrestrained ferocity against systems of domination, while still being connected to a network of people who are interested in similar ideas and who can act in solidarity with each others’ struggles.

[rose-from-ashes]

Today I'm thinking about how Endwalker is about the futility of giving your life a purpose. The unhappiness. More importantly, how there's a gentle light in the lack of one.

Think of the societies that had ended hopeless because they had reached their goals.

The dragons renounced war only to be conquered by the Omicron. Though they fought the Omicron off, their land began to die, and when they realized that they could not find another world without war, they gave up.

The Ea had sought knowledge. They did everything they could, abandoned their bodies, and finally, they found all the knowledge they could need and turned their gaze to the final fact. When the universe would die. Knowing that they could find no purpose. There was nothing else to learn and they had geared themselves for knowledge so heavily that they could find no other things to chase, knowing death would come for them in the end. They gave up.

The Omicrons had sought power. Fighting greater and greater enemies until they could find nothing left to fight that might teach them anything. Eventually, Sir came to believe that the Omicrons no longer served a purpose. Like the Ea, Sir could see no other direction in which the Omicrons could seek purpose, believing that it simply wasn't possible. Sir gave up.

The denizens of Ultima Thule aren't the only ones. Metion lists several in her report.

Deka-penta lived in service to a higher power that destroyed it in a fit of rage. The higher power destroyed itself shortly after, possibly because, like a primal, it had solely lived for the faithful that had made it and lacked any purpose now that they were gone. Another world strived to make a land with no conflict. They became detached from those that should have been their loved ones to prevent personal strife, and their world collapsed.

In the Dead Ends, we see yet more.

One world was struck with plague, and in an attempt to survive, they sought to destroy each other to purge the plague, giving up on a cure. Another world became embroiled in war, seeking freedom and peace using violence, until there were no people left to be freed from. One world sought to remove sorrow, only to find that joy without any other emotions became empty, and they became depressed, giving up on a meaningful life.

In modeen day, we know of Garlemald and Allag. The former fell to civil war, as that was what it had been built for. Its people only knew war, and to follow their radiant leader. When that leader was removed, they had none to war with but themselves, and collapsed inward, its people having already given up hope on any help from the outside world.

The latter, too, had been founded with the flawed purpose of conquest, and at its height ruled most of the world. When their leader passed, the Allagans pushed for greater knowledge, greater creation, greater technology, but stagnated nonetheless, as their culture had been designed to take and there was nothing left to take from. Xande was cloned and began to conquer the last traces of the world, but the Allagan people knew there was no purpose in it and fought back against his rule, ultimately spelling their end.

Finally, there was Amaurot. A culture so dedicated to the concept of purpose that some, like Hermes, could not accept the concept of there not being one. Their ultimate purpose was dedicated to the star itself, and they cared for it deeply, even to their own expense, never sharing deeper feelings, always keeping anything that did not pertain to their purpose to themselves. When the Final Days came, they were overwhelmed by the very emotions they had pushed down, and they knew no mechanisms to push through or seek help. Ultimately, Hydaelyn decided they would never be able to as they were, and sundered them. Whether or not she was right is not the purpose of this.

I'm sorry, did I say finally? i actually had some individuals to dig into as well. Zenos, whose chosen purpose was combat, the battle high. He knew that there was no true overarching purpose or meaning in life, knew that he could choose his own, but failed to see how he could have multiple, how he could have connected to others and seen a better life had he tried, until the very end. The Ascians, whose chosen purpose was to undo the sundering, unable to see the true value in the sundered world due to their focus. Hermes, whose purpose had been seeking purpose, unable to see the truth before his eyes that there not being one wasn't a bad thing.

The point is that every one of these worlds and people had the concept of purpose guiding them. And they were unable to pull away from that purpose in the end. They died unhappy, save for Zenos and Emet-Selch, who in their final moments saw a different light in the Wol and took comfort knowing that there truly was something else out there.

It's a life lesson. There's a lot to live for. Try to keep your eyes open for more. You'll be happier.

[rionas-path]

Chapter 18

Wicrow

CLXXVIII. With the speed of musket fire, she ran. Leaping, gliding, evading All manner of beast which was either chasing behind her Or jumped into her path so boorishly in a sharp spur. The horde of wicrow clustered together in their raiding, Numbering in the hundreds, as far as Ríona could guess. However, even mere perception got doused in the duress Of this arduous task after a day’s worth of wading, Running and manoeuvring through the dark demons pervading.

CLXXIX. This effort might have been the end for those of the mundane Mortality and yet, her kin-blood’s endurance was truly Incredulous to all the people-folk ordinary. Howbeit, she was still exhausted – succumbed to spirit-drain, And between the occasional lunge of a hidden beast, Her swift, never-faltering dagger-thrust which quickly ceased Their pitiful life, she could only focus on this task plain: Running away. Utterly, she could feel her body strain.

CLXXX. She hoped what Aurianne had claimed was true in its essence; That her father was waiting for her on the realm’s borders. Alas, for now she had do bear this burden on her shoulders Alone, despite the perilousness of the venture tense. The howls and screeches of the beasts continuously delivered Fear into her bones boorishly. Her nostrils flared and quivered With both exhaustion and trepidation’s envenomed incense, As even her blustering blood could not persist in the toil immense.

CLXXXI. Throwing a quickened gaze across her shoulder, she was faced With the wicrow closing the distance and making good ground. Her stride was faltering, her focus waning and unbound, And despite the Goddess’ ardent cheer, despair in utter haste Began to take root. The girl’s chest was burning, gasping for air, And her heart pounding hurriedly. Her conscience’s harsh, searing glare Found itself collapsing inwards, like tumbling rocks displaced Down the damnable slope, creating an avalanche ever-paced.

CLXXXII. In her exhausted state, she finally elected to turn And stand her hapless ground, for legs could no longer carry her. Preparing her battling posture, her perception could not infer Of any sensation other than that of the blackened concern. Then suddenly, she felt the strongest pull on her collar’s back And as she swiftly looked to find the source of the attack, She found herself already seated on a steed battle-sworn, Next to who else but her father, Audar with a grimace stern.

CLXXXIII. Holding onto two girdles as another horse beside Galloped along, he grumbled: “By gods, I’ve found thee! You stupid, Stupid goose!” He pressed down onto her shoulder undisputed Just as he would have in the days of her yesteryears applied, Albeit this time it felt different, comforting in care. He commanded softly: “Hop on the other dashing mare, For dear, we must make haste!” Though tired was her jaded hide There was always that fraction more of lifeblood to be pried.

CLXXXIV. Seating herself on the saddle, she asked: “How didst thou find me? Though the Goddess claimed thou wouldst muster thy forces to prevent This incursion, alas, I am blind to the chance’s scent!” She was puzzled by this opportune salvation timely. The chief answered: “This is not my first hunt of kin-in-kind, lass; Or should I rather say ‘maiden,’ seeing as thou surpassed Thy rite of passage thousandfold!” Shaking his head sharply He quizzed: “Thou art all tangled up in this tumble, aren’t thee?”

CLXXXV. A lump seemed to form in her throat, and upon swallowing, It felt like a seed of doubt passed down her body. She confessed: “Alas, I fear it is damnation of my own acquest! I beg thy forgiveness, yet please dost not be found wallowing In thy lecturing for I can scarcely hold my own body Upon this steed, let alone listen with my mind’s shoddy Fortitude in my current state of fatigue and failing!” The chief let the air stay still ‘fore he began avowing.

CLXXXVI. “Dost not fret, dear daughter. This is thy prophesized dest’ny, And despite a lack of forewarning, thou canst not control What the gods will! Yet, I will stand beside thee, my fair foal, Always. As thou grapplest with thy fate with grave tenacity. Thou hast now surely met my old friend from the northern mounts, A tale I hid from thee… Had he not people-folk renounced, This heartless reality would not be thine inherency. In truth, it is I who shouldst ask forgiveness and never thee!”

CLXXXVII. Once they managed to escape the immediate danger Of the swarm and adapted pace, Ríona’s body finally Gave way to languor, as she leaned on his shoulder nigh lifelessly. Grabbing her around the arms, he gave his eldest daughter A gentle embrace and pulled her onto his saddled lap, Reminding him of that dark day – his life’s greatest mishap: The day Mockwir fell. A tear reached his eye as he caressed her Fatigued, sleeping body melting into his like water.

[asteriskdisasterisk]

lex is honestly such an interesting sad little man to me in how he chose to cope with everything that had happened to him and just how much he represses it all before it eventually comes down crashing on it.

the whole situation with dusknoir in particular just really shows it in full color imo. lex only ever wanting someone in his age to talk to, someone whom he can at least look at in the eyes properly and not fear that he'll bore them out, because kids are kids and kids think adults are lame. and with dusknoir coming along, making lex fall along with the rest of the gullible masses, yet lex flew higher and harder into something he knew that deep down would *kill him* if he got too close. and got close he did. he bared his heart open to the open flames, aware that it will burn, aware that it will hurt, and took the fall. and all that was left from that experience was just mind numbing emptiness. he knew that dusknoir had none but ill will; a tangible aura of darkness and enough skill under his belt to crush him and ollie if he wanted.

but even so, why did it hurt? why does the heart ache for this feeling of closeness, this gesture that never has meant anything and never will mean anything? why does it hurt to know that his own heart was his own biggest folly, and that he really has no one to blame for this outcome? and lex pushes it aside. he pushes everything that serves as nothing but an emotional burden for him to carry. letting it rot in the corner and fester as he can do nothing but look at it in hopes that it will go away on it's own.

but oh, lex is far more smarter than he lets himself on. your own issues don't go away on their own. your own feelings don't go away on their own. it all eventually comes crumbling down, and it will bury him within. he could push it all away as hard as he could, but his attempts only push him to a breaking point more and more. he will have to answer the call and let it all out, these feelings of gutwrenching heartbreak, fear and disappointment and all that he desperately tries to run away from, or inevitably shatter when there is nothing left to hold onto anymore.

and with him choosing to evolve into ninetales at some point down the line, he will have a good 1000 or so years to think well and well about it all.

SINNOH WHEN I CATCH YOU--

ough,,,pain,,,agony even,,

Lex was never good with feelings of any kind, even as a human. In the dark future you survive through brute force and trickery, there's no time or room to think about anything else... and that's something he unknowingly carried with him into the past.

But he indeed touched the fire and got burned, despite knowing he shouldn't. I mean, it's not like he needed to... so then why? For the desperate hope that he was wrong, that his instincts were mistaken, that Dusknoir was telling the truth? I doubt that even Lex knew...

In the realm of astronomical symbolism, I like to think of Lex and Dusknoir as a binary star system. Two brightly burning stars orbiting each other, pulled together by an invisible force. They get so close that one absorbs pieces from its companion, becoming more massive over time, burning ever hotter, until it eventually collapses in on itself.

Lex was haunted by memories of Dusknoir as if they were ghosts themselves, pushing it all down further and further over and over again until there was no room left. But no matter how densely compacted, it was always bound to explode. When Dusknoir returned to the past (post-redemption), it was the last straw for Lex--the final push into supernova. And he planned to take the bastard down with him.

In the end, the collapse went inwards instead, leaving Lex the only one destroyed. Much the same as Dusknoir, he blames himself for everything that happened. The two are more similar than Lex would like to admit.

A couple hundred years of thinking can change someone drastically. Maybe one day, far in the future, they will find themselves in each other's orbit again.

[mahayanapilgrim]

Guru Rinpoche’s Concise Instructions

One of the most wonderful teachings of Padmasambhava, the Lotus Born, Guru Rinpoche was written down by the Lady Tsogyal — from a request she made just as the master was about to leave — and she, herself, was worried about death. Although she was a accomplished Dakini, she requested:

“This old woman has no confidence about the time of death. So I beseech you to kindly give me an instruction condensing all teachings into one, which is concise and easy to practice.”

Out of his bountiful kindness and love, Guru Rinpoche taught her, delivering one of the most wonderful and concise oral teaching, now known as:

The Refined Essence of Oral Instructions

The great master replied:

“Devoted one with a faithful and virtuous mind, listen to me. Although there are many profound key points of body, rest free and relaxed as you feel comfortable. Everything is included in simply that.

Although there are many key points of speech such as breath control and mantra recitation, stop speaking and rest like a mute. Everything is included in simply that. Although there are many key points of mind such as concentrating, relaxing, projecting, dissolving, and focusing inward, everything is included in simply letting it rest in its natural state, free and easy, without fabrication. The mind doesn’t remain quietly in that state. If one wonders, Is it nothing?, like haze in the heat of the sun, it still shimmers and flashes forth. But if one wonders, Is it something? it has no color or shape to identify it but is utterly empty and completely awake—that is the nature of your mind.

Having recognized it as such, to become certain about it, that is the view. To remain undistracted in the state of stillness, without fabrication or fixation, that is the meditation. In that state, to be free from clinging or attachment, accepting or rejecting, hope or fear, toward any of the experiences of the six senses, that is the action. Whatever doubt or hesitation occurs, supplicate your master. Don’t remain in places of ordinary people; practice in seclusion. Give up your clinging to whatever you are most attached to as well as to whomever you have the strongest bond with in this life, and practice. Like that, although your body remains in human form, your mind is equal to the buddhas’.

At the time of dying, you should practice as follows. By earthdissolving in water, the body becomes heavy and cannot support itself. By water dissolving in fire, the mouth and nosedry up. By fire dissolving in wind, body heat disappears. By wind dissolving in consciousness, one cannot but exhale with a rattle and inhale with a gasp.

At that time, the feelings of being pressed down by a huge mountain, being trapped within darkness, or being dropped into the expanse of space occur. All these experiences are accompanied by thunderous and ringing sounds. The whole sky will be vividly bright like an unfurled brocade.

Moreover, the natural forms of your mind, the peaceful, wrathful, semiwrathful deities, and the ones with various heads fill the sky, within a dome of rainbow lights. Brandishing weapons, they will utter “Beat! beat!” “Kill! kill!” “Hung! Hung!” “Phat! phat!” and other fierce sounds. In addition, there will be light like a hundred thousand suns shining at once.

At this time, your innate deity will remind you of awareness, saying, Don’t be distracted! Don’t be distracted! Your innate demon will disturb all your experiences, make them collapse, and utter sharp and fierce sounds and confuse you.

At this point, know this: The feeling of being pressed down is not that of being pressed by a mountain. It is your ownelements dissolving. Don’t be afraid of that! The feeling of being trapped within darkness is not a darkness. It is your five sense faculties dissolving. The feeling of being dropped into the expanse of space is not being dropped. It is your mind without support because your body and mind have separated and your breathing has stopped.

All experiences of rainbow lights are the natural manifestationsof your mind. All the peaceful and wrathful forms are the natural forms of your mind. All sounds are your own sounds. All lights are your own lights. Have no doubt about that. If you do feeldoubt, you will be thrown into samsara. Having resolved this to be self-display, if you rest wide awake in luminous emptiness, then simply in that you will attain the three kayas and become enlightened. Even if you are cast into samsara, you won’t go there.

The innate deity is your present taking hold of your mind with undistracted mindfulness. From this moment, it is very important to be without any hope and fear, clinging and fixation, toward the objects of your six sense faculties as well as toward fascination, happiness, and sorrow. From now on, if you attain stability, you will be able to assume your natural statein the bardo and become enlightened. Therefore, the most vitalpoint is to sustain your practice undistractedly from this very moment.

The innate demon is your present tendency for ignorance, your doubt and hesitation. At that time, whatever fearful phenomenaappear such as sounds, colors, and lights, don’t be fascinated, don’t doubt, and don’t be afraid. If you fall into doubt for even a moment, you will wander in samsara, so gain complete stability. At this point, the womb entrances appear as celestial palaces. Don’t be attracted to them. Be certain of that! Be free from hope and fear! I swear there is no doubt that you will then become enlightened without taking further rebirths.

At that time, it is not that one is helped by a buddha. Your ownawareness is primordially enlightened. It is not that one is harmed by the hells. Fixation being naturally purified, fear of samsara and hope for nirvana are cut from the root.

Becoming enlightened can be compared to water cleared of sediments, gold cleansed of impurities, or the sky cleared of clouds.

Having attained spacelike dharmakaya for the benefit of oneself, you will accomplish the benefit of sentient beings as far as space pervades. Having attained sambhogakaya and nirmanakaya for the welfare of others, you will benefit sentient beings as far as your mind pervades phenomena.

If this instruction is given three times to even a great sinner such as one who has killed his own father and mother, he will not fall into samsara even if thrown there. There is no doubtabout becoming enlightened.

Even if you have many other profound teachings, without an instruction like this, you remain far away. Since you don’t know where you may wander next, practice this with perseverance.

You should give this oral instruction to recipients who have great faith, strong diligence, and are intelligent, who always remember their teacher, who have confidence in the oral instructions, who exert themselves in the practice, who are stable-minded and able to give up concerns for this world. Give them this with the master’s seal of entrustment, the yidam’sseal of secrecy, and the dakini’s seal of entrustment.

Although I, Padmakara, have followed many masters for three thousand six hundred years, have requested instructions, received teachings, studied and taught, meditated and practiced, I have not found any teaching more profound than this.

I am going to tame the rakshas. You should practice like this. Mother, you will become enlightened in the celestial realm. Therefore persevere in this instruction.”

Having spoken, Guru Rinpoche mounted the rays of the sunand departed for the land of the rakshas. Following that, Lady Tsogyal attained liberation. She committed this teaching to writing and concealed it as a profound treasure. She made this aspiration: In the future, may it be given to Guru Dorje Lingpa. May it then benefit many beings. This completes the SacredRefined Essence Instruction, the reply to questions on self-liberation at the moment of death and in the bardo.

SAMAYA. SEAL, SEAL, SEAL.

[the-smashor]

Azure Striker Gunvolt: The Matthew Project

Chapter 0: Prologue

My name is Nova Tsukuyomi. And I used to be dead.

I suppose I should explain. I was the leader of the Sumeragi Group’s Project Muse, and of a group of Adepts. Our goal was to use The Muse to control all Adepts, to attempt to fix the world by force, behind the backs of our superiors. I desired to try and use this control to try and fix the world, and hopefully one day relinquish it once it’s perfect. This failed due to the efforts of Gunvolt. In his selfishness, he decided to prevent me from saving mankind, instead choosing the life of a single girl. He ended the lives of myself and my comrades. Yet… something happened. Something I didn’t see coming.

One of the people I recruited was Elise, a horribly traumatized girl who’s Septima allowed her to resurrect the dead. Her psyche had been broken to the point where her mind had fragmented into three parts, each seemingly having their own soul. This allowed her to manifest her split personalities in different bodies and resurrect herself, in a manner of speaking. But if all three bodies died, she would remain dead.

I had her be the last resort defense, believing that due to her second personality’s limitless vitality, she could permanently stop Gunvolt. What I didn’t rely on was the son of Doctor Kamizono, Copen, managing to break into the station and kill her using a weapon copied from Carrera’s Septima. I underestimated him, and it cost me the strongest member of my team. It was practically checkmate.

But, despite her death… we all came back. Some inexplicable miracle had happened. Shortly after Gunvolt had left the station, we all returned to life.

Carrerra gave us an update on his battle with Gunvolt, and footage I obtained through some loyalists within the company confirmed it. The Muse had been killed, and the Azure Striker had struck down his mentor. QUILL had collapsed inward on itself. Yet, I still could

However, we had quickly come to an incredible realization. The previous time we were killed, our Glaives were transported back to HQ. But this time, they were destroyed, perhaps due to the intensity of our battles with the Azure Striker. As such, when we got resurrected again, we had full access to our Septimas.

I knew there was no longer any hope of being able to finish Project Muse. And now that I had failed, I would lose much of my influence within the company, becoming a mere pawn in their games, more so than I already was. So, using some of my contacts within the company, I managed to get us all out undetected.

My new plan is to gain political power internationally, so that I can change the world personally, ideally overthrowing Sumeragi itself. We decided to establish ourselves in France. The nation was in turmoil due to a controversial incident where an Adept’s home was burned down and his family was killed by an individual madman, which had resulted in instability. The government was desperate, desperate enough to take the offer of help from a young foreigner with an impressive resume promising solutions.

Six months after our escape, I heard from my contacts that the national defense boundary had been compromised, and that Japan was under attack by terrorists we had fought before. Eden. However, they ended up being stopped by the combined efforts of Gunvolt and Copen. Copen challenging them is obvious, given his desire to kill all Adepts. Gunvolt, I didn’t expect as much. Joule was already dead, so I don’t know what would spur him into action with QUILL gone from Japan. Perhaps he’s more complex than I first believed.

One year later, it seems Japan has been completely sealed off to the rest of the world. No communication with the nation, be it through phone or internet, is possible. I’ve even lost access to my contacts. They also made the barrier opaque, and thus impossible to see through. I’m aware of the emergency lockdown process, there’s no risk of the people starving and an artificial sky is put in place to ensure some semblance of normalcy, but with Eden defeated I don’t understand what threat could necessitate such a response.

It has now been four years since we left the country, three since the barrier’s emergency lockdown began. Me and the rest of my men have created our own organization thanks to favors earned from the French Government, the Matthew Project, likely the most powerful organization in Europe, though nowhere near as powerful as Sumeragi prior to the emergency lockdown. We’re also likely not as powerful as ATEMS, who managed to break through the national defense barrier at one point shortly before a worldwide outbreak of a phenomena known as Dragon Radiation, which is causing Adepts to go berserk worldwide.

Our current objective is to learn how ATEMS accomplished this and, hopefully, learn to replicate it, as Sumeragi is still refusing contact with anyone else. In a show of good faith, I have elected to hunt down a rogue serial killer who fled to Europe after being found out in Egypt. It is believed this killer either possesses incredible hacking ability or is allied with someone who has such, meaning further digital communication is not safe.

 For the sake of safety, I’m sending a small team to meet up with one of ATEMS’ agents in person to gain any information we can. If all goes well, we should be capable of forming a plan of attack that minimizes risk and will get us in ATEMS’ good standing. Apparently, this killer originated in Japan, so I suppose it’s fitting that I’ll be the one to finish what my country could not.

[timetravelandgravityengineering]

Personally I'm hoping for a time machine so I didnt arrive here

I tried to put every aspect i could to understand the scope of science

Apprently I had two or three good ideas

Thats looks so cool

So theroy is the anti matter would be expelled from the galaxy/universe?

That would cause an energy vacuum and inflation. Being that the vacuum feild would be constant within that feild and cause a cascade of matter being pushed by gravity. As new matter would be added the gravity feild would increase causing an exponential growth of the feild till gravity exceeded the feild potential and collapse inwards. This could be a result of change in the thermo feild and cause a big freeze then as gravity cancels the anti matter exchange could happen again and create a new big bang in a cyclical pattern. The cyclic feild would reestablish itself.

Causing a non localised many worlds.

Are universe is quite new and its fluctuating between thermo states in trying to find an equilibrium however gravity and the electron phasing won't allow that. Its constant tidal pull between heat and cold causes a recurring cyclical energy exchange.

Would this still end in heat death probably but then were would the electrons go.

Heat death is caused by a lack of pressure

[neverunknowns]

Prose about unquantafiable feelings

Alternatively titled

Summer Blues

It's dark in the room

The blankets have been stripped from the bed

It's to hot

Too hot to think

I don't know when I last remembered to breath

I lay, half naked, on my back

The bed is too big for me, I lay in the center of it anyway

The sheet, the only bedding still there, is tangled around one of my legs

It's too hot to be touching the sheet

I am too tired to move it

I do not know when it was washed last

I do not know when I was washed last

My arms are splayed to each side

But the bed is too big

And stretches far beyond my fingertips

It is dark, but I can still see

My eyes are unfocused, but I watch the ceiling fan spin

It is a constant, frantic motion

Desperate to keep me cool

It is failing. I can't find it in myself to care.

The window is above me, covered by heavy curtains

I hear thunder echo across the sky somewhere outside

I manage to conjure the thought that it must be raining

For a moment, I imagine standing in the rain, letting it soak into my clothes and hair and skin

It would cool me and ease the blistering heat that had started around me and settled inside.

But the bed is too big and stretches far beyond my fingertips

I have not had the energy to even move the sheet

The relief is a foot away. Just on the other side of the window.

It doesn't matter, I can't reach it.

The thunder echoes again, louder. Mocking.

I hear the rain itself now, hitting heavy against that window. Against the roof of this building. This room. This home.

I wish to at least see the lightning. Something to cast light into this place.

I can not convince my body to push itself up. I can not convince it to push aside the curtain. Or the sheet.

Because the bed is too big, and I am the only thing in it.

The sound of the rain is deafening now.

I imagine the roof collapsing, unable to hold the weight.

I imagine it cracking and splintering above me, then caving inward on top of me.

I wonder if I would move, then. If I would try to get away.

I imagine the rubble around me, above me.

Maybe it would trap me. I don't think it would matter

I am already stuck. The bed is too big and I can not move.

But then, at least, with the roof gone I could feel the rain.

The daydream fades, and I am somehow even more tired for it

A siren wails in the distance as the rain lets up for a while

If I had the energy to hope, I would hope it stays far away.

Let someone else suffer the tragedy today

Because if it arrives at my doorstep, I will not be able to rise and greet it.

They would ask if I was okay

I do not know if I could answer them

I know that I am not well.

I would tell them that I am okay

I am just hot and the bed is too big.

They would not understand my meaning

They would tell me I've risen from this bed every day for four months, why can I not do it now

I would say I have been sleeping in the guest room. Because the bed in that room is small.

The siren fades. The rain is back. I do not know how long it's been

There is no clock in this room

My phone lays beside my hand, the thought of picking it up is unbearable

Someone knocks, I do not answer.

For a moment, I wish they'd come in. To lay next to me. So that there are two of us to fill the bed

They will not come in

The door is locked

And if they managed to get in, I would be too hot to lay with them.

So the bed stays too big, and the room stays too hot.

And I stay motionless and alone.