#but there is also the celebration of being petty. and the franticness those sort of mixed emotions would give u..

[dazzelmethat]

*reaches out my hand and grabs you* I have the power to subject non vocaloid people to pinop..

TW: for flashing lights

Mushroom mother analysis in my tags. ..

[twodaysintojune]

Arranging Weddings

The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi / The Grandmaster of Diabolic Cultivation

WangXian, background XiCheng, warnings - None 

Find me at AO3

It had not even been a month since the passing of Jin GuangYao and Lan XiChen was not feeling better at all. If things kept on going that way he might head into seclusion soon rather than half ass all of his work like he was doing right now. He was never feeling like doing anything and right now he was feeling it even less since he had to stand his uncle's outrage for the eleventh time at nine in the morning.

"... Anything could happen to WangJi at any moment and we don't even know where they are right now! The inconceivable, utter disrespect to the most basic premises of morality! He did not only stick his cut-sleeveness on my WangJi but he also… he also forced him to elope! Just like that! Can you believe it XiChen!? The shame he has forced on our Sect by dropping off the last sense of decency by not getting married!???"

Lan XiChen wondered for a moment if it was wise to remind his own uncle of rule number seventy five on the wall of rules: "Causing Noise is Prohibited" to satisfy his own pettiness or if his uncle was in need of another cup of tea before any kind of smart backlash when both men heard a coughing coming up from the exterior of the room.

Lan XiChen beamed as much as his proper upbringing could allow. Standing still and quite elegantly poised, like the Sect Leader he was, was Jiang WanYin.

"Sect Leader Jiang! What a pleasant surprise! We didn't expect you until…" Lan XiChen turned to look at the hour and realized his own mistake of letting his uncle rant for literal hours now "oh, Oh. Please forgive me, Sect Leader Jiang. I have failed to properly receive you at the appointed hour."

"Please, no need to apologize, Sect Leader Lan, Master Lan Qiren." Jiang WanYin bowed to both men as appropriate to the occasion "I would have waited without a problem for you but I must admit your conversation got me quite intrigued. Is master Lan Quiren implying that he wouldn't have that much of an issue with a pair of cut-sleeve relationship were they properly married?"

Lan Qiren scoffed. "I admit that would be a great start."

Jiang WanYin's smile widened wildly for just a glimpse in a way that reminded Lan XiChen of those moments he knew he had the winning hand during the few times they fought together at the Sunshot Campaign. A thing that made him excitedly anticipate the great Sandu Shengshou's upcoming actions.

"I am quite relieved to hear of this. If that is the case, Master Lan Qiren, there's a proposal I would like, no, I would love to discuss with you." 

---

Wei Wuxian was somehow splayed on top of Little Apple, looking at the increasingly brightening sky while Lan WangJi was pulling the reins, walking towards the closest city after being travelling through the mountainside a couple of days.

"Ahahahaha oh Lan Zhan, my Lan Zhan, did you really see that grave digger's face when all the corpses around him began to rise? Ahahahaha~"

Lan WangJi smiled warmly at his husband's figure. How could he deny him of such pleasures when they brought him so much happiness? Especially when it meant they were doing good. Keeping the spirits to their proper rest.

When they arrived at the city, the place was bustling with energy despite being so early in the morning but it was not the usual one from a large place like this, there was some sort of effervescence and giddiness in the way everyone behaved that both men felt was just a tad bit too excited.

Being a naturally curious person, Wei Wuxian asked the nearest steamed buns stall owner.

"Excuse me, Ma'am" he took a couple of buns while Lan WangJi was already taking out the money to pay. "Can you tell us what is going on that the city is so excited about?"

"Oh my boy! Haven't you heard!?" Said the owner, almost jumping on her heels as if she had just been waiting for someone to ask "The leaders of the Lan and the Jiang sects are getting married!"

Wei Wuxian paled and felt like he had suddenly become a walking corpse while he heard a couple of coins dropping to the floor by his side. He forced a smile on his face.

"Surely that's… that's not right? Is it not, maybe, a pair of disciples?"

"Oh, no, no, no. If it was that they wouldn't be announcing it to the whole world, would they? Just look at the announcements board at the plaza! If you can't trust this old hag, then you can surely trust an official document."

Wei Wuxian somehow brought up a more charming smile "My dear lady, I could never not trust someone that has so much more experience that I can ever dream of"

The old lady cackled while receiving the coins Lan WangJi had picked up again "oh my, you're such a flirt. Here, have another bun for the ride."

Wei Wuxian thanked her and turned around with his mouth open only to see that his man was well beyond him, already walking towards the plaza. He ran towards him and reached the board.

There, in the middle of it all, was a very official looking paper with celebratory imagery surrounding the edges of the announcement.

"It is with great pleasure to announce that the leaders of the Jiang and the Lan sects are organising a wedding to be held in Lotus Pier during the auspicious upcoming new moon of the month of Xin Si at sunset where they expect to celebrate a wedding that will tighten up the relations between both regions of Gusu and Yunmeng. All blessings for the grooms to wed."

The announcement ended with a beautiful seal that joined both sects imagery, a lotus flower floating over a cloud. 

Wei Wuxian read the thing three times before anything made any kind of sense and then one time more.

"The upcoming moon of… oh heavens, Lan Zhan. That is in eight days!!! This is… We cannot stay here! We have to stop this nonsense wedding!"

Lan WangJi was looking at his soulmate with a stern glare that was completely agreeing with Wei Wuxian's exclamation.

"Mn."

Soon enough, they were running to the stable where they had left Little Apple and began their journey towards Wei Wuxian's old home.

---

The day arrived, the whole city of Yunmeng was dressed for the celebration, people wandering excitedly throughout the streets, waiting for the announcement that the marriage was completed. Inside of Lotus Pier, two fine figures in relatively simple red robes were alone, kneeling already at the ancient hall, just waiting for the exact hour. A red veil covering the head of one of them.

"After knowing you through all these years and battles, I have to be honest and say that I know I shouldn't, but I am still impressed about your boldness. Sect Leader Jiang."

Jiang WanYin laughed "Turns out I'm not only good at slashing things, eh?" He winked at the elegant face behind the veil. "Also please call me Jiang WanYin, I hope we're well past certain formalities after this."

The veiled man snickered "Very well, then please do call me Lan XiChen. I'd feel quite saddened if you felt there was any need for formalities with me as well, Jiang WanYin."

Jiang WanYin smiled brightly at the man by his side.

A couple of minutes passed when Lan XiChen began to fidget.

"Are you sure they will come?"

"Oh trust me, I don't know about your HanGuang-Jun but Wei Wuxian will definitely be here. And if he is here…"

"Then WangJi is going to be here as well."

Jiang WanYin nodded in agreement. As if they had summoned the chaotic couple, they heard a commotion starting on the Swords Hall.

"It's the Yiling Patriarch and HanGuang-Jun!"

"Somebody stop them!"

Both men heard the sounds of blades and general fighting getting nearer at each second, sometimes yells of pain.

"Will your disciples be alright, Jiang WanYin?"

"Are you kidding me? They were ecstatic when I told them they would be able to test their skills against the Second Jade of Gusu-Lan. Not that they're anywhere near him but that will help them assess their own strengths."

Lan XiChen snickered. Soon enough, the commotion was right behind them and suddenly the doors of the Ancient Hall burst open and in came Wei Wuxian and Lan WangJi.

"JIANG CHENG!"

"XIONGZHANG!"

The pair in red stood up from their kneeling position and turned to look at the newcomers.

"Ah, my dear WangJi! How auspicious that you managed to arrive in time!"

"Yeah, we would have had a real problem if you didn't show up."

The couple at the doors looked at each other in shock and then glared at their counterparts while approaching them. Wei Wuxian fisted Jiang Cheng's robes and pulled him forward while Lan WangJi almost fell on Lan XiChen's arms, almost imperceptibly glazed eyes.

"Can you tell me what sort of nonsense this is!?"

"Xiongzhang, please!"

Both men in red gave their brothers a smile, albeit one would have been considered saintly while the other devilish. Suddenly, the doors of the Ancient Hall closed once more, startling Wei Wuxian and Lan WangJi. They turned around and saw, appalled some very well known faces.

"HanGuang-Jun, Senior Wei, I'm really glad to see you're well."

"I mean, not like we actually cared but…"

"Oh, don't be a liar! You're the one who wanted to see Senior Wei the most!"

"Can we get going with this? We'll be late for the banquet at this rate."

Before he was able to completely understand what the junior quarter was doing there, Lan WangJi heard his brother.

"Please forgive me WangJi, we cannot afford more stalling, you are indeed a little bit late."

And just like that, he clearly sensed how his spiritual energy was blocked by his own brother's hand.

"Alright, you can take him, Jiang WanYin."

"Gotcha!" Exclaimed the man while leaning forward and carrying a very startled Wei Wuxian like a potato sack and jumping through the threshold that the juniors had opened once more, disappearing through the hallways.

"W… Wait a second! What are you doing!? Lan Zhan! LAN ZHAN SAVE ME!!!"

"WEI YING!!!"

Lan WangJi did his best to get away from his brother's grasp while the frantic screams of his lover moved away from them but it was impossible without his spiritual energy. He turned to look at his brother, a pair of tears menacing to roll over his cheek.

"Now, now, don't look like that, let's go get you changed and refreshed, you'll be able to see him soon."

Unable to do much more, he allowed himself to be guided through another hall towards a guestroom with a sigh, shoulders slightly falling.

"Tche, what's all the drama for? It's not like they're gonna be apart forever."

"Look who's talking, Mistress."

"You-!"

"Please guys, let's not do this right now."

"Yes! A wedding is a very important occasion!"

Chided by his brother, Lan WangJi took a quick bath and began to dress himself in layers of increasingly dark blue without paying too much attention but stopped when he finally noticed the outer garment his brother, now properly dressed with his best silver and light blue robes, was providing. He had in his hands a deep red robe accented with dark blue and silver embroidery reminiscing of clouds around the edges that was to be matched with a dark blue, almost black sash. He looked at the clearly elegant garment in awe and then turned to look at Lan XiChen.

"Xiongzhang, this…"

Lan XiChen gave him a soft smile, already holding a comb. "Come on, dress up, let your big brother do your hair."

Lan WangJi's eyes widened up in comprehension. He felt his ears burn when he finished dressing himself and sat down.

"Xiongzhang, I'm sorry. I thought, we thought…"

Lan XiChen let out a soft chuckle.

"We know." Lan XiChen began to brush softly WangJi's hair. 

Both men got lost in the process of brushing and hairstyling, reminiscing childhood days where the older man took care of the younger in the same way. Lan XiChen sighed while pulling up the hair for the bun after being done with the brushing.

"You know WangJi, I'm really glad I'm able to be here for you today."

Lan WangJi frowned. "Xiongzhang?" 

It was barely a whisper but that didn't stop Lan XiChen to feel the worry.

"I'm going into seclusion WangJi… Don't move, you'll ruin the bun…" Lan XiChen sighed once more "Maybe one of the reasons I agreed to this mad scheme was precisely because I did not want to miss this particular day and knowing how erratic your movements can be I was not sure if I was going to be here otherwise."

Lan WangJi looked downwards, faintly blushing, feeling his brother fix the decorative pins. 

"Which is why I also wanted to tell you…" Lan XiChen grabbed Lan WangJi's forehead band,and began to arrange it on the hairstyle he had fixed, oddly out of place in the middle of so much red and dark blue. "That I don't really have much to tell you about the importance of treasuring your soulmate, since I saw you learn that lesson yourself." Lan WangJi saw a tear trailing down his brother's cheek through the mirror. "...But I can tell you that I am happy for you. And no matter where you go from now on, I hope your travels bring you nothing more than bliss and joy. And that I support you, today and tomorrow and all the years to come."

Lan WangJi felt a knot on his throat.

"There, it's done. Let's go back to the Ancient Hall. I'm sure your future husband is there already."

Lan WangJi stood up and turned to look at his brother. Lan XiChen smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ready?"

Lan WangJi looked at his brother for a second and threw himself at him with a hug. Lan XiChen hugged him back a little startled and felt more than heard his little brother's soft sniffle. He hugged him tighter.

"I love you too."

---

Lan WangJi walked inside the Hall once more. He was shocked when he saw his uncle standing there as well. Feeling overwhelmed, he walked towards him and bowed. The old man scoffed and shooed him towards the altar. Lan WangJi nodded and turned towards the center of the room.

The perfect figure of his husband to be was already kneeling in front of the altar, not slouched or slant but immaculately poised. Bright red gown speckled with gold and lavender motifs of lotus flowers in both the sash and the veil. His face was barely visible but his body showed he was clearly moved. He knelt down by his side.

"Wei Ying" 

His voice had been but a breath but Wei Wuxian had heard him alright. He turned towards him with the brightest smile.

"Look at this Lan Zhan," he whispered "We're finally in front of them… Do you… do you think shijie would have given us her blessing? And Uncle Jiang? And Madam Yu?"

Lan WangJi gave him the softest smile yet.

"Mn."

Wei Wuxian took in a deep breath. Clearly trying to restrain the tears that were already rolling through his face and nodded. Unable to say a thing, very unlike his usual character.

The ceremony went incredibly fast after that. Both Jiang WanYin and Lan XiChen said a couple of words as the ones preceding the ceremony, Jiang WanYin dressed in proper purple, navy and gold robes. The grooms exchanged bows, too short and surprisingly not embarrassing from Wei Wuxian, too long and incredibly bold from Lan WangJi, and then prostrated three times as per the tradition. 

The juniors, the ones acting as witnesses standing behind were all tearing by the end. Jin Ling had been the first to be noticed but Lan JingYi's teasing was not really effective since he was crying as well.

The banquet had been a success. The entire city was celebrating the newlyweds after all so the noise and celebration was everywhere. Around nine, the newlyweds finally bid their goodnight and stepped away from the hall in the middle of catcalling and whistles that Wei Wuxian encouraged, absolutely elated after three bottles of wine. Being carried bridal style by his now very official husband.

The following day they were caught by the juniors before they could run away on Little Apple once more and received a thorough scorn from Jin Ling who screamed at them something about being already married and not seeing the point of acting like a pair of runaway, wanted criminals anyway and that Wei Wuxian better go see him at LanLing or else he would definitely hunt him.

Meanwhile, Jiang WanYin was supervising that not a place had been left uncleaned, with Lan XiChen by his side.

"Are you sure you're not gonna say goodbye?"

"If I say goodbye now, Wei Wuxian won't need to come back later." Jiang WanYin said matter of factly "What about you? I don't see you at the backdoor of Lotus Pier right now."

"I already said all that I needed. Now I feel like I can finally go into seclusion."

Jiang WanYin eyed his counterpart carefully and scoffed. 

"You don't approve of that."

"Obviously Not. You're saying it like you're about to die."

Lan XiChen laughed tiredly.

"You're being dramatic."

"All I'm saying is that this seclusion thing is not going to work for you at all. If you don't come out of your personal coffin after a year I'll come raise you from the dead."

Lan XiChen gave out a tired scoff but said nothing more about it. After all, there was no way Jiang WanYin would know him better than himself. 

"I'll take that as your permission."

Finished the man by his side, ending the conversation.

Both leaders kept on supervising the cleansing of the whole Lotus Pier and making sure it went back to its usual state while, on another side, a figure in black mounted on a donkey waved goodbye to a bunch of sniffling teenagers while a figure in white pulled softly the donkey's reins.

[abdifarah]

Snake Charmer

I grabbed my sneakers and ball from the backseat of my car. As I stepped onto the basketball court, the palm of a stranger’s hand suddenly hit my chest before my foot crossed the threshold of the out-of-bounds line, as if to protect me from stepping into molten lava. It was in fact hallowed ground he was preparing me to enter. “I don’t want to mess up your day, but Kobe Bryant died.” The words did not register. He must have meant to say Bill Russell or Magic Johnson or some other retired player, up in years or immunocompromised. My heart sank as the words did. Seemingly coordinated with the stranger’s preparatory address, my phone began to shriek. I shared basketball, above most else, with my closest friends, and for those of my friends “not into sports,” they knew I was and that I was probably the one person in their lives that could explain why their instagram and twitter timelines had been commandeered by the news of Bryant’s death. I sat on the court and texted friends I hadn’t spoken with in years. I mentally ran through all of the Lakers fans in my life, like someone tallying loved ones near the epicenter of an earthquake or tsunami. 

The surprises continued. My uncle Kenny called me. Kenny, like most of the men in my life, does not make calls. When I see Kenny during the holidays we do not hug or catch up with small talk. Me and Kenny speak solely in sports. “How are the Cowboys doing?” translates to how are you doing? On this occasion Kenny did not resort to code. “Are you okay?” Kenny asked with a tone of genuine concern in his voice. Strangely, I was not. Stepping out of my body momentarily, I watched myself frantically text friends and scour the internet for updates with large tears welling up in my eyes. Importantly, next to me, five or so other guys on the basketball court were doing the exact same thing. I was dumbfounded, and even a little amused that it was Kobe Bryant, of all people, that elicited this reaction from me. As a basketball fan I loved Kobe Bryant as a player, but I didn’t love him. I loved Kobe the way the world loves the Dalai Lama. Kobe was that inhuman child/god/king we watched grow up, do great exploits, and whose often trite proverbs of ostensible wisdom we warily entertained. His sudden and violent death brought into swift focus that, while famous for almost my entire life, I took Kobe for granted.

Kobe Bryant was the first of us to realize: the camera is always on. In the days and weeks following Kobe’s death I found myself pulling up old games on youtube and having them on in the background while I worked. I was surprised how many of the beats–a certain sequence of plays, a specific call by an announcer–I remembered, like I was watching reruns or listening to a throwback radio station. As much as The Fresh Prince or Martin or Seinfeld, Kobe Bryant was TV. Mostly to my frustration, as someone who ineffectually rooted against the Lakers, Kobe Bryant was always on my screen. Undoubtedly, a cloud hangs over everything related to Bryant now in light of his death, but rewatching games from the 2000 finals, in which Bryant’s Lakers bested the Reggie Miller/Jalen Rose led Pacers, I was reminded of how much uneasiness and sadness I felt for Kobe Bryant watching him even as a teenage admirer. After every exceptional defensive play, flashy pass, or difficult made shot, Bryant made sure the camera saw the fiery glint in his eyes, the licking of his lips, the exaggerated clinching of his jaw. 

Even more so than the NBA’s previous generation of celebrities–Bird, Magic, Jordan–Kobe Bryant seemed to be the first superstar to internalize that basketball was a performance: a movie backed by a John Tesh score, or more specifically, a loosely scripted 24-7 reality show complete with story arcs, heroes, villains, close-ups, and backstabbing confessions. Bryant perpetually signalled: to the camera, to the fans, to his haters, to his teammates, that he possessed the most passion, that he outworked everyone, and that he would stop at nothing to be the best. By all accounts this was all true. But we knew it less because it was true and more because Kobe wanted us to know. Even as a youngster I found his thirst obnoxious. 

Kobe was desperate, but he was also just ahead of the curve. Kobe Bryant proudly admitted to not having a social life, and almost a decade before Russell Westbrook said it, Bryant proclaimed that “Spalding was his only friend;” a both sad and sobering admission for any would-be competitors tasked with defeating Bryant on the court. Bryant’s performative work, that now permeates and characterizes most of millennial culture, predated social media. The author Touré in his book, I Would Die 4U, contends that despite being a baby boomer, Prince was the quintessential GenX celebrity, whose music perfectly tapped into that younger generation’s disaffected, countercultural ethos. Born in 1978, Bryant technically resides in GenX. The intense outpouring from all corners of the digital world over Bryant’s death stems from the fact that he was truly the first millennial celebrity. 

For Bryant, fame came before success. As the photogenic rookie for the Lakers, Bryant had cameos on sitcoms, graced the cover of every teen magazine, took Brandy to the prom, put out a rap album, and pitched every soda and sneaker Madison Avenue could throw at him. But like an inflated college application, Bryant’s extracurriculars read as contrivances. Bryant was named a starter in the 1998 All-Star game, an honor voted on by the fans, meanwhile he wasn’t even a starter on his own team. To suspicious observers, Bryant was an industry plant; the antidote to the fearful influx of hyper-black, hip hop culture embodied in players like Allen Iverson or Latrell Spreewell; a basketball and marketing robot with a pearly white smile, that spoke multiple languages, and would pick up where Michael Jordan left off; ushering the NBA to unprecedented commercial heights.

Despite his superficial charm, Kobe Bryant’s lack of genuine personality proved off-putting, almost creepy. Although possessing a similarly shimmering smile, everyone knew that the real Michael Jordan chomped on cigars, pounded tequila, gambled through the night, and did not actually hang out with Bugs Bunny while wearing Hanes tighty-whities. We acknowledged humanity, healthiness even, in this contradiction. For Bryant’s generation of sports superstars, the public and private arrived flattened. A sports prodigy, a la Tiger Woods, Bryant’s lone-gun, misanthropic persona emerged as a defense against the alienation he felt from his teammates and colleagues around the league, those that did not share his cloistered upbringing. Bryant’s longtime teammate and consummate foil, Shaquille O’Neal, had the nickname, Superman. Despite his titanic presence and supernatural physical gifts, O’Neal epitomized the terrestrial; always joking, dancing; embedded in pop culture; a true man of the people. The true Kryptonian was always Bryant.

As an ignorant seventeen year-old, my initial reaction in 2004 to the accusations of rape against Bryant was amused shock. “Kobe Bryant has sex?!” In 2004, I, like many, put Kobe on the shelf. Less out of a desire to proactively make any bold gestures on behalf of women, but more out of petty schadenfreude. As stated before, I respected the talent, but I was not really a Kobe fan. I always rooted for the underdog, and Bryant was anything but. To the contrary, everything about Bryant was an assault on the concept of the underdog, the diamond in the rough, the idea that anyone, despite their humble or downright degraded beginnings, could rise to excellence. Bryant was born and bread to be great. Sadly, I took grim pleasure in seeing the NBA’s posterboy–the prototype of black celebrity respectability–revealed as the actual embodiment of the entitled, toxically masculine, and sexually predatory stereotype of the black athlete. 

Bryant lost endorsements. Nike released the Huarache 2K4, an all-time great basketball shoe originally designed to be Bryant’s first signature release with the brand, as simply a stand-alone product. The Lakers shopped Bryant around for possible trades. Like Sampson sheared and stripped of his powers, Bryant’s hairline appeared to recede, he cut off his signature fro, and he began shaving his head closer and closer. Bryant changed his number from 8 to 24 as one now changes their Instagram or Twitter handle to represent a break from the past. Like a biblical character after a traumatic or transformative event, like Abram becoming Abraham, or Saul becoming Paul, Bryant adopted the moniker of the Black Mamba. He resigned to allow the sorting hat to place him in his rightful house of Slytherin, and embraced the duplicitous snake that many already viewed him to be. Somewhat strangely, the Black Mamba was the assassin code name of the main character in Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill, who in the film is left for dead, and out for revenge. Did Bryant see himself as this woman wronged, or as the titular character, Bill, contently awaiting his deserved day of judgement. Knowing Bryant, he probably saw himself as both.    

In the myth of Hercules (not the Disney version) the famous god-man kills his wife and kids in a fit of hysteria inflicted by a vengeful Hera. If we imagine that the mythical figures of today were really just the celebrities and aristocrats of past millennia who had control over the pen of history and whose carnal tales swelled into sacred gospel; the fits of rage and mania brought on by the devil or hades or a poison arrow, were really the Chappaquiddicks, Vegas hotel rooms, and dog fighting compounds of their time; times when our heroes unequivocally and inexcusably committed evil. If Hercules was in fact a real man of some importance to his time–the son of a dignitary–that unfathomably killed his wife and kids, it follows that instead of being sentenced to death or some other fate reserved for the criminal commoner, that he would be given some lesser sentence and a chance–albeit slim–of redemption. Hercules is banished by the gods to serve an insignificant king and accomplish the arduous good works assigned to him as a means of atonement; the great works–slaying the nine-headed hydra, retrieving cerberus –that ultimately generate his immortal legend.  

Bryant’s post rape case/post Shaquille O’Neal years with the Lakers mirror this herculean restitution. Despite years on center stage, the Lakers, like Bryant, were similarly in their nadir, and would spend the middle of the aughts in basketball purgatory. Bryant was no longer primetime television. What happens to a pop-star when no one is watching? Surprisingly, Kobe Bryant kept performing, and at higher heights. Bryant was doing his best work while no one was watching. I remember walking through the door of my college dorm on a non-descript spring day. My roommate, Bryun, yelled at me with no context, “8 1  P O I N T S !” Kobe Bryant’s 81 point game may lay claim as the first social media sports moment. Less because no other great sports moments had occurred between 2004, when facebook emerged, and his scoring explosion in 2006, but because very few people watched that midseason contest between two mediocre teams live. It arrived to everyone, like myself, after the fact.

During a recent lecture, artist Dave McKenzie, when answering a very banal question during a post lecture q&a, about his long term goals as an artist, answered soberingly, “I’m just trying to get through this life and do the least amount of harm.” While we all hope to navigate this life without hurting others, most, if not all of us, will in some way. While we can and must continue to  interrogate why powerful (or at least useful to the actual powerful) men like Kobe Bryant seemingly evade the full reckoning of their actions, we must acknowledge that Bryant became something of a patron saint to those who for whatever reason found themselves on the wrong side of right. Maybe they were the underprivileged black and brown boys and girls in over-policed neighborhoods of LA where Bryant played for 20 years. Perhaps they were not pure victims but made some questionable choices and found themselves caught in the system. Or maybe it was the newly divorced father attempting to win back the respect of his kids after breaking apart his family due to his own indiscretions. Kobe Bryant in this second half of his career, culminating in back to back championships, provided a picture of how one climbs back from the depths of hell, even if they were the one that put themself there. This explains the irrationality of Kobe fans, who defended him in everything, and straight-faced spoke his name in the same breath as Michael Jordan, despite honestly being in a class below. For them, Kobe was bigger than basketball, and while many fans share a vicarious relationship with their sports heroes or teams, Bryant’s winning was more profoundly linked to his fans’ sense of self-worth.

Precocity embodied, Bryant arrived in the NBA a generation too soon. As the son of a former player, singularly focused on professionalizing at a young age, even foregoing college at a time when that was still a rarity, Bryant was an alien compared to most players of his generation. The trajectory of players today more resembles Bryant’s. Gone are the days of Dennis Rodman or Scottie Pippen or Steve Nash picking up basketball late, or being undiscovered and surreptitiously landing on a small college team, eventually catching the eye of the larger basketball world. Now, professional basketball starts disturbingly early. Prospects like Zion Williamson have millions of Instagram followers in high school. Second generation pros are commonplace – Steph, Klay, Kyrie, Devin Booker, Andrew Wiggins, Domantas Sabonis, Austin Rivers, Tim Hardaway Jr., Glenn Robinson III, and so on. Bryant was the cautionary tale, a sage mentor, and ultimately an icon to the generation of players succeeding Bryant, who like him, entered the spotlight and scrutiny of an increasingly voracious sports machine as children. Thanks in part to witnessing the triumphs and travails of Bryant, today’s young superstars arrive to the league encoded with the understanding that the fans, the media, the sports industry writ large, wait with baited breath for them to fuck up off the court as much as they do a spectacular play in the game. To these various stakeholders, it’s all good entertainment.

[A bit of a tangent] As the coronavirus began to ravage New Orleans, in particular the homeless and already vulnerable of the city, I had a group of friends, more acquaintances, who took it upon themselves to collect donations, buy groceries, prepare and ultimately hand out meals to the large number of homeless people mostly living under the I-10 overpass downtown. As a naturally cynical person, I immediately questioned the motivations. All of those same homeless people were living under the overpass before coronavirus, where was this energy then? One friend involved with this effort confided that she was incredibly anxiety stricken in all of this, and that this “project” was taking her mind off things. I chafed at the phrasing of feeding the homeless as a “project.” Additionally, daily I would scroll through the Instagram feeds of those helping and see pics of cute hipsters in masks and gloves and in grungy, rugged, but still impossibly chic outfits posing in Power Ranger formations in front of their rusted Ford Ranger filled with grocery bags to distribute. A masterclass in virtue signalling, the narcissism of it all polluted the entire endeavor for me. When I asked a trusted voice why this all rubbed me the wrong way, this person replied curtly, “What does it matter why or how they do it? They’re doing a good thing.” 

Kobe did not simply embrace this role of elder-statesman to the succeeding generation, he courted it, campaigned for this mantle as aggressively as he once sought championships. Lacking confidence in the intellect of the public to make their own conjectures of how Bryant resurrected his career, he rebranded himself a self-improvement life-couch, and proselytized his “Mamba Mentality,” even staging a parody Tony Robbins style conference as a Nike commercial. He collected young promising players to mentor like Leonardo DiCaprio collects young blonde models to date. Gossipy whispers swirled every offseason, “Kobes working with Kawhi.” or “Watch out for Jason Tatum this year; he spent the summer training with Kobe.” All of Kobe’s newfound openhandedness seemed spiked with self-aggrandizement. Opting to be the mentor of the next generation ensured that the success of future stars led back to him, and that he would be relevant and sought after long after his retirement. 

Whatever the subconscious or even conscious motivations behind Bryant’s mentorship, his movie Dear Basketball, or his show Detail–in which he broke down the games of basketball players across levels and leagues, treating women’s college basketball standout Sabrina Ionescu with the same care and reverence as NBA star James Harden–the result was education, service, stewardship, and love for the game of basketball. 

I started writing this soon after Bryant’s death but struggled to synthesize an ultimate point. In the end I am not sure I have one, just that Kobe Bryant, much to my surprise was a figure of enough complexity and enduring relevance to require re-interrogation. In hindsight, I needed to watch The Last Dance; the 10 part Michael Jordan re-coronation. In 2009 newly elected President Barack Obama, after stumbling over the oath of office during the freezing January inauguration, retook the oath the next day in a private ceremony just in case any of his political enemies, or the fomenting alt right with its myriad factions–from the conspiratorial to the downright racist–tried to invalidate his presidency. While trivial in comparison, Jordan, with The Last Dance is attempting desperately to reconfirm that he is the greatest basketball player of all-time, something only a few lunatics question. While the actual game footage is a wonder and leaves no doubt of Jordan’s basketball supremacy, the final tally of this hagiographic enterprise may result in a net loss for Jordan. Jordan, like a 19th century robber baron, seems to genuinely believe that his misanthropy, arrogance, condescension, usury, brutality, workaholism, and myopic focus on basketball, and consummate self-centeredness were all justified, required even, to win. To win what? Championships? With sports leagues and public officials debating when and if sports can and should come back amidst a virus with devastating life or death stakes, sports and success within them feel quite trivial and quaint at the moment. 

Having won at everything in life, sitting in his palatial mansion, sipping impossibly overpriced scotch, Jordan does not seem fulfilled. He is Ebenezer Scrooge. Unfortunately, it is not Christmas, and no ghosts of introspection are visiting Jordan, only a camera crew determined to retell the gospel of Jordan with a few non-canonical details sprinkled in for flavor. I am reminded of a line in Pat Conroy’s My Losing Season, an autobiographical account of his college basketball days at The Citadel. After a storied career, Conroy’s senior season is a disaster (hence the title). In it he says no one ever learned anything by winning. The inference is that, while winning is great, the actual growth occurs before, in the losing. Jordan in The Last Dance is the ghastly personification of “never losing. Like Bane before breaking Batman’s back, “Victory has defeated you.” With an unimpeachable resumé, Jordan was never required to question his actions or behaviors towards his teammates and competitors. Worshiped unwaveringly by all, Jordan never felt the need to give anything back to the game or to the communities that supported him. 

While never verbally conceding, Bryant seemed to embrace being the loser. Bryant realized early, perhaps as early as Colorado, that he was never going to be as beloved as Jordan. He began planning early for a life outside of basketball. He started a production company. He braved eye-rolls for the n-teenth time when he proclaimed that he was going to be a “storyteller.” Beyond a cliché adage, Bryant became a “family man,” and focused on this part of his life with the same ferocity that he once attacked the basket. Despite braving turmoil very publicly as a young couple, the bond between Bryant and his wife Vanesa appeared, at least on the outside, genuine. They welcomed their newest daughter, Capri, just 7 months before his death. While no less ambitious or busy in retirement, the Bryant who once wore his insecurity and desperation on his sweaty armband, strangely appeared content, happy. The guy who once proudly proclaimed “Spalding his only friend” relented to a verdant life with others.

While undoubtedly compounded by the tragic and sudden nature of his death, the truly astounding outpouring for Kobe–murals the world over, calf-length tattoos, millions of twitter handle re-namings–stands as an accomplishment, or better said, an acknowledgement that “better” athletes like Jordan or LeBron or Tiger or Brady will probably never receive. He wasn’t the best of us, and in many ways we loved him even more because of that. Before The Last Dance we got a preview of the more candid Michael Jordan during Kobe Bryant’s memorial, where Michael, who unbeknownst to us all was a confidant of Bryant’s, admitted that Kobe made him want to be a better father, a better person. In the end even the GOAT was a disciple of the Mamba. It’s only right that the first millennial superstar gained the biggest following.  

[arofili]

legolas or celebrimbor??

celebrimbor doesn’t have a tumblr, he made that shit. he and narvi are @staff.

(well. they were @staff…)

leg …. pre fellowship

their blog url

green-leaves-in-a-green-forest

(or something equally long and horrendously hyphenated and fake poetic)

the kind of posts they reblog

random shit he finds amusing

like, cat pictures and social justice posts from 2013

no theme at all

i would never follow him

the first person they followed

tauriel

she convinced him to get a tumblr because of the memes

a year later, she regrets this immensely

she matured and has a better blog that she doesn’t even use much

legolas is the exact same.

what kind of theme they’d have

tumblr default theme

what kind of text posts they make at 2am

he will wake up in the middle of the night and post about the dreams he just had, but without any context

“made some chocolate milk with the lady who pulls the sun. tasted like weed. also, that one girl who i thought i had a crush on in 3rd grade was there. awkward.”

“sweating so much!! just ran a marathon with my dad while we were being chased by oliophaunts. the racetrack turned into a river halfway through. we won!!”

he thinks he’s funny

(he’s not.)

leg …… during fellowship

their blog url

he privated his blog for the first part of the journey because he thought it would be safer

after a few weeks he gets bored and starts liveblogging this shit

at that point his url becomes “fellowshipoftheleg”

his blog title is “Eight Idiots And A Gorgeous Elf Save The World”

“Hello! My name is Legolas Greenleaf. I am currently on a quest to save the world. The details are ~secret~ but I needed a place to vent so here we go. My companions are all idiots, except for me. My interests include….”

you know the type of subtitle i’m talking about.

the kind of posts they reblog

he basically stops reblogging and only makes original posts during this period of time

the liveblog

legolas had >300 followers before this, but his posts about his journey start to gain traction

his liveblog is pretty much petty complaints at first

he talks shit about gimli

he cracks “jokes” about boromir

(again. he’s not funny)

he reports on the weird stuff gandalf does

he gushes over the adorable hobbits

(until one day he accidentally bumps into frodo and sam tries to jump him.

he’s a little afraid of them after that.)

he quotes aragorn like there’s no tomorrow

some of these are like, actually deep

most of them sound like stuff from inspirobot

or they’re stupid inside jokes

everyone gets code names, cuz legolas isn’t that stupid

gandalf is “old man”

aragorn is “the bro”

boromir is “angstlord”

the hobbits go through tons of nicknames

“itty bitties”

“curly boys”

tiny monsters

eventually they get their own, but by that point the fellowship has split

gimli is “asshole dwarf”

after a few weeks… he becomes weirdly popular.

his story reads like a trollfic, with stupid plot twists and bizarre anecdotes

this mostly is anecdotes, not the full scope of the quest

he mostly makes text posts, with a few pictures here and there

every now and then he’ll post a snapshot of the fellowship roasting marshmallows

or a selfie of him in lothlorien

or a sneaky pic of him drawing dicks on boromir’s face while he’s asleep

he used to be low-profile, but shit’s gone whack.

he’s gaining hundreds of followers a day

his top post has half a million notes.

he’s a tumblr “cewebrity”

everyone on tumblr thinks this is just a story, not real life

people dig through his old posts looking for clues and foreshadowing

they’re baffled by the dedication the mod of the blog has to building up this “legolas” character

or they’re puzzled by the mod’s decision to turn this shit blog into a dedicated storytelling platform

legolas is bombarded with asks and @ mentions

but like…this bitch don’t actually know how to use this website.

he can make a post and reblog one

but that’s literally it

he’s the kind of blogger who leaves stupid captions on popular posts

he can’t figure out how tags work

he’s never heard of xkit

all his asks go unanswered

he’s only sort of aware of what’s going on

he’s blogging 100% from mobile, which makes it even worse

the Legolas Fandom goes buckwild

there is not enough time in the day to over it all

ship wars.

fan theories.

headcanon drama.

it’s a mess.

and again, legolas has no clue that this is going on.

when he catches feelings for gimli…things get insane.

he writes gushy, cringy, angsty posts about gimli

he posts pics of gimli with flower crowns

he composes bad poetry about gimli

the fan base is infuriated.

they’d all been shipping him with aragorn.

and like, no one in the fellowship has a fucking clue this is happening.

at least, not until they get to 

it’s ironic that Isolated Horseblr User eowyn is the first one to recognize legolas

she finally gets up the courage to ask him about it

“has someone been stealing your selfies, or…?”

he is astonished.

if Leg could, he’d shut down the whole thing

even if eowyn had wanted to help him do that, he’s just in too deep

he’s in this for the long haul.

now, Legolas starts to make shit up.

that’s when his popularity tanks.

he’s getting callouts

he’s everyone’s “problematic fav”

people dig through his blog to find dirt instead of clues

Legolas is more aware of this now, and he pouts for days

then gimli, a Twitter-Only lad, finally sees a masterpost explaining everything

he connects the dots way quicker than anyone else did

and oh fuck.

he’s frantically tweeting–

“wtf do i do??”

“i think i’m the asshole dwarf??”

“but he’s like in love with the asshole dwarf now??”

“oh my god, my crush likes me back??”

“has he been liveblogging EVERYTHING??”

eventually he deletes it all and decides to confront legolas

the leg boy caves under pressure and spills the beans.

they figure their personal shit out

of course, aragorn knew everything all along.

at least, that’s what he says

gimli takes over the liveblog for a day and everyone goes nuts.

together, he and leg decide that they’ve got to end this fake-ish story

even though they don’t know the ending of the real one.

for someone who’s never used it before, gimli picks up tumblr etiquette quickly

and on mobile. that’s a whole nother level of perseverance.

he starts streamlining shit, collecting information, making use of fan masterposts

he ties all the loose ends together

with a little bit of help from legolas to make it suitably weird, they close the story strong with a bang and a kiss.

aragorn finds their version of events…amusing.

after the real dust settles and the news stories about the Real Quest hit the press…

now legolas is a Real Actual Celebrity

his fans new and old start to see…similarities between the two stories

plagiarism?

insider info?

conspiracy?

coincidence?

no one can decide.

leg ………… post fellowship

their blog url

Legolas has three blogs now.

“fellowshipoftheleg” is kept as an archive. he doesn’t post there anymore.

he has a secret personal blog, “greenwood-gossip”, that he just posts random shit on like before.

and finally he has a Real Life Famous Person Tumblr Blog, “legolasgreenleaf”

the kind of posts they reblog

with the help of gimli and tauriel, he figures out how to actually use this website.

like most celeb blogs this one doesn’t post much

but he does reblog edits of himself and of his friends

every time he’s asked about fellowshipoftheleg he answers that he is not responsible for it and has no idea about it and would you all please stop asking about it.

the first person they followed

aragorn’s new Famous Person account.

this blog is deactivated after two months because he never uses it.

what kind of theme they’d have

something that should be really classy but with awkward shades of green

like, it had potential but again…legolas has a terrible eye for design

what kind of text posts they make at 2am

he doesn’t usually make original posts

but sometimes he’ll complain about gimli’s weird habits

and once - just once - he confessed that he was the one who ran that liveblog all those years ago

he deleted the post an hour later, but there were screenshots.

legolas is the Ultimate Troll.

[emmybluefire]

Yuletide Melancholy

TL:DR, Emmy visits the orphanage to read stories to the children there, and on her way out comes across a little girl who was looking for her mother. The mother? She was a field medic for the wolves who died the night before. This drives her to continue moving forward and make the world a better place. Further compacting her own flaws...

It was Early one wintry morning in Stormwind. It’s Hustle and bustle having long sense started it’s blissful rounds. A thin layer of fresh powdery snow blanketed the cobblestone sideways and wooden shingles of the city’s architecture. Pristine, and freash, it created a dazzling display of lustrous powder that almost hurt the eyes in the early morning sun. It was like art. Beautiful, and quiet.

Sturdy evergreens were being decorated with colorful ornaments and meticulously weaved garland, holly, and pinewood vines, at every corner and center of the streets. People smiled whilst they chattered among themselves. Some of them even sung! Groups, and choirs, caroling about the winter season and celebrating the bountiful harvest that’d get them through these long, grueling months ahead.

A crisp sensation hung in the air, biting the nose, and freezing the cheeks... and yet, it was pleasant. The scent of cinnamon, char, and baked goods filled the skies with a festive aroma that seeped into the mind, body, and spirit. One so potent you couldn’t help but smile, and feel a warmth broil up within your heart.

Yes, Winter’s Veil had come at last.

Through the streets gracefully moved a young half elf. Her thick azure traveling cloak wrapped over her shoulders, keeping her warm even despite her choice of attire. A thin silken dress, divided into two pieces for elegance and appeal. Bronze platelets clamped around her waist, inlaid with large beading sapphires, some hanging off a white velvet string towards the bottom, others inside the decor itself. Each individual bead rattled up against the other as she passed by the stalls and shops.

It had been awhile since she had felt this way, peaceful. Happy, smiling, ... relaxed. Too much had been on her mind. Even her days of leave often felt disrupted by one thought or another. The state of the world, it’s leylines, the problems behind the scenes, her studies... enchantments, job. Everything. Even sleeping often yielded nightmares of the world crumbling away before her very eyes. Fire, magma... death... the only things remaining of the chaos being the very forces that caused the dismay. Hideous amalgamations crafted from the bodies of others, souls torn asunder by demonic energy, tendrils of dark energy ripping life apart.

At times... she often felt that she had a responsibility to stop all of this. What, with her power, her fury, her knowledge of things most people can hardly comprehend. But such thoughts were arrogant, unrealistic, and doltish... and she knew that too. It was times like these... where she was most thoughtful and calculating, that she was also the most vulnerable. She held so much back that she often got emotional over the simplest, and most petty of things. Things like watching her comrades fall in love. Like seeing a frown upon her friends’ faces. Like watching children play, and enjoy their lives. She had everything, and yet... often felt as though she had nothing. She put too much responsibility on her shoulders... and often forgot to stop and smell the roses.

A fact, that had long since been pointed out to her.

Sighing, Emmy looked up at the falling drizzle of snow. Shuddering with each gust of crisp, lovely wind. She liked the cold... it never bothered her. Never harmed her. It was comfortable to her. No, the dark clouds and perfect whiteness of the snow. The people who were happy, people who were enjoying themselves, people who were having fun. She had to focus on that. Watching these people make the best out of what they had was a thing of beauty. A piece of flowing art, ever changing, ever moving, ever improving. And well? She should be a part of it too. If they can do it... so can she. And she had to keep that in mind. Perhaps she could forget about the world’s problems... at least for a day.

Closing deep, radiant, blue eyes, she opened up her nose and filled her lungs with the sensations of the season, just as Captain Fang’Lao had shown her before... she focused on them. On the pleasantries, allowing them to seep into her spirit, and expel her strife. Deep breaths in, deep breaths out. When she opened her eyes again, she examined her surroundings. The market square seemed to only get busier in the few seconds she was consumed by thought. Laughter, chatter, smiles and grins. ‘Happy Winter’s veil!’ ‘Merry days!’ ‘Thank you!’ , phrases that endlessly rippled through the crowds of people.

Adjusting her hips, Emmy shifted the basket along her curves and pulled back the quilted cloth within, baked goods, cookies, fudge, chocolate, cinnamon sticks and sweet rolls stared back at her from inside. Warm, and delectable. The aroma within, a plea. A soft whisper, a longing. A temptress that strove only to lead you down the wrong path, and turn you to gluttony. A moment passed before some information clicked in her brain. The treats, had been a distraction from her actual goal. The thing she promised herself she’d do today.

She gasped, “Oh Fuck! I almost forgot why I’m here!” Her words shoved her out of her haze, and filled her with abrupt and rapid energy. A guilt, and a drive to shoot forward through the crowds. Within minutes, she had found herself outside of the trade district; gazing beyond the massive stone walls and at the yellow shingles across the canal. The only thing between her and them? A bridge. Iced over though it was, it would not be a problem for a mage such as her. And it would not stop her.

The Cathedral square also seemed to be busy. The people within plodding too and fro Stormwind’s grand promenade; The Cathedral of the Holy light. It seemed many of her inhabitants applied a sort of religious significance to the holiday as well, as this... wasn’t normally the practice’s declared day of rest. She hummed in thought, wondering if perhaps Lord Theodore Bennas was among the fold. Perhaps he was preaching today! An interesting thought, but no... despite its significance, and want to support her friend, the cathedral was not her destination today. No, hers was still a few blocks away. Down the busy streets she went, trudging through the gathering snow and ice, her breath on the wind. That basket of warm, baked goods resting just above her hips.

“I hope They’ll enjoy these...” she sighed contently. “I can’t imagine those children are having an easy time with everything going on.” She frowned at the thought. How many were orphaned when the legion came? So many lost souls... men and women who had family, friends. It was an odd kinship she felt... for she too had been an orphan. Her mother dead, her brood dead, her brother... dead. She had nobody to look after her anymore. Nobody but herself. How she wished that wasn’t the case...

It wasn’t long before she reached the yard. Fenced in with stone and iron, the children played ball in relative safety. Many of them seemed so happy! Giggling and playing. Building snowmen, having play fights with snowballs, snow angels... It almost seemed like they had forgotten their situations. Or were just making the best of it with their friends. She stepped up to the gate, and pushed it open, waving at the children as they passed, with warmth and love in her bright, opalescent smile. A few of them eyed her warily, many others waved back, and one even tugged at her cloak, trying to peer into the basket of goodies. Emmy giggled at this, and pulled her cloak from the child’s grasp. “Not yet little one. It’s a surprise.” she beamed.

“For me?” the child tilted her head.

“For all of you.” she replied, a faint chuckle in response. The child’s eyes only lit up with wonder, and majesty. Innocence... she envied that. The ability to look at the world with awe, and a drive to learn. A look free of caution, and skepticism. One full of innocence, and ignorance to the trials of life. And while she still held some of that wonder in hers... it was overshadowed by the strife she had witnessed in her expansive lifetime. Her's where the eyes of a veteran’s, of a survivors. Her ears only drooped at the thought.

Gently, her knuckles found their way to the door, hands sliding up against the rough oaken boards. Knock, knock, knock... it rattled three times. The sounds of more children within, and the footsteps of another. It was one of the matrons. She opened the door to greet her. She was a stout looking woman, dark hair with strands of grey, and features to indicate middle age. “Ah! Miss Bluefire! What brings you here darling?”

Emmy chuckled. “Miss McCree!” She beamed, glancing down towards the basket at her hips. “I brought sweets for the kiddies! Just thought they’d enjoy it.”

The other woman glanced down too, her eyes aglow with surprise. Miss McCree placed a hand on her heart, and her stern expression faded. A content, and perhaps relieved sigh escaping her lips. “Oh... You’re so sweet Miss Bluefire. Er...” her eyes darted over the shorter girl’s form, her head pulling back at the sight of her attire. “Emmy! You must be freezing! Come in! Come come! It’s almost story time.”

Emmy gave pause “Wait... what?”

“Story time!” the woman reiterated. “Come on! You know they love your stories!”

The young half elf’s jaw hung agape. “Uh...” her eyes moving nervously from side to side. Shit! She hadn’t planned one for today! How could she have forgotten!? Sure... it had been a while, but every time she come here she stayed to read them a story! How could she not have brought one? She nearly panicked, frantically her hands moved to rummage through the deep recesses of her disorganized leather satchel. Her hands encountered many things... book on gravitational distortion, research journal, normal journal... A map of Elwynn’s leylines... AHA! There’s one. She swiftly pulled it out and grazed a hand over the cover.

“Metzin, The Tiny Reindeer.” A Winter’s Veil classic.

Emmy exhaled with heavy relief. Her spontaneous stress, melting away at the sight of it. Somehow, in her tired stammerings last night, she managed to remember ahead of time.

“Come on Misses Bluefire! Come on!” The children pleaded tugging at her dress and guiding her towards the seat. The matrons did nothing to help. Squeaking, she plopped into the chair, all the little ones cheering at once.

“E-Erm...” this was her fate now, she might as well accept it. She lifted the basket of goodies from beneath her cloak, and set it down by her feet. The children, all of them, gathering into a circle. Their youthful eyes aglow with wonder and eagerness. “Alright...” she smiled, setting the book onto her lap. “Have any of you heard the story of Metzin?” A few shook their heads, others nodded eagerly. Didn’t change the fact that they were all tentative. “Well…” Emmy cracked it open. “It all started in the cold recesses of Northrend. When father winter was nothing but a humble toymaker...”

With each sentence, came a reaction. Each subtle nuance a smile. Emmy had always found a way to make stories interesting engaging to the kids, by simply letting them talk amongst themselves about the subjects at hand. Giggling, jumping, and frowning. Even a story about a misfit reindeer, who was bullied as a kid, and through sheer determination, proved his worth later on in his life. And though he was a fictional character, he was one that aspired to great heights in his lifetime. It was intriguing to her, as she related to it to a degree. People hardly ever believed in her when she was young… and sometimes she wonders if they do now. But there’s no denying the heights she’d reached in life. And each little chortle, each little glisten, each little smile… she didn’t know why. But they, the lives of the children… reminded her of that. An odd mix of somberty, and satisfaction enveloped her soul. Each child mattered… each child, she lived for.

Is this what stopping and smelling the roses was? It felt... pleasant.

When she got up to leave, many of the children frowned, trying to bribe her, or persuade her into staying. But she had other things to do today. Other friends to see, and she couldn’t remain all day. She’d miss them, that’s for sure… but she knew she’d come back next week, and see all of their lovely faces once more. Fighting through crowds of children, she managed to make her way to the door. With a creek, and her final goodbyes, she stepped back out into the crisp cool weather. There was just one more obstacle in her way, and it ran into her.

“OUF!” Emmy grunted as something hard and round pounded into her crotch, her body instinctively bending down to nurse the aggravated area. Though, when her hands reached for her legs, they only grasped something soft, and silky. Strands of hair, clinging to the scalp of a young girl, no older than six. The youth stared up at her with deep emerald eyes, glistening with dampness, and the quivering of lips. Before Emmy could even say anything, the girl wrapped her hands around her waist and buried her head into Emmy’s blue silken dress.

“Oh no! Sweetheart!” Emmy’s heart churned for the girl. “Don’t feel bad! It’s okay, you didn’t hurt m-”

“I want my mommy-y-y…” the girl sobbed.

“Wh-”

“I-I, I haven’t seen my mommy… si-i-ince Since… Pil-il-ilgrems bounty… My nanny sa-” she sniffled, her pained breaths shaky, chopped apart with each desperate intake. “She said she’d be home by no-” the girl lost her words to weeping.

Emmy’s heart felt like it had been wrenched from her chest, torn asunder by an unknown force. That sinking feeling in her stomach, that subtle prickling down her spine, clawing their ways from a thousand years of imprisonment. Her throat felt like it had been crushed from the inside. The girl was in despair. Desperate, weeping… searching for answers. Afraid… and alone. Instincts, drove her to kneel down, and pull the girl into her chest. Coddling her in her arms, trying to provide some semblance of comfort and security. “Wh- What’s your mother's name hunny?”

“Mm- m… A- Amber…” she bawled “Amber Quinn.”

Those words… hit her like a rock.

Her heart skipped several beats as… for  a moment, everything around her went still. Amber Quinn… she knew that name. She was a nurse for her unit. A trained field medic who had been there for them on numerous occasions. She never knew she was such a dedicated mother too… Amber Quinn was severely injured, and put into critical condition by a number of explosions about a month ago. Even then though, she desperately clung to life. The other medics preformed a number of surgeries on her, doing everything in their power to keep her alive… but in the end, her wounds won. Captain Av’laa… declared her deceased last night, at the hour of 2:33 A.M. The cause of death… internal blood loss.

Emmy’s drive to comfort the girl increased tenfold… as tears began to envelop her eyes. Even through it all though… she tried desperately to smile. To be strong for this little one. Nothing else in the world mattered now. “Y- You’ll be okay.” she forced from her throat, lips struggling to maintain her smile. “You’ll see her again someday... I’m sure of it!” tsk… she hardly believed herself.

“My Mommy said you were a mage!” The little girl blurted, pushing herself from Emmy’s grasp. “Sh- She sa- aid… said that you knew magic! That you helped people with it! Please… please you can bring her back right?… Please I- I miss her...” she sniffled, pleading… begging. She had no other options… no other hope to turn to. But what little she had, she clung to with a fierce, burning passion. Naive... though it was. Magic didn’t... work… that way.

That wrenching in Emmy’s heart only amplified… her entire chest now, felt like it had been torn in half. What could she even say? What could she even do?!? This girl just lost her mother! Just like Emmy had done in the past… she thought back to herself, pulling from distant memories, locked away and buried by the passage of time. How did she get past it? ...It was a mystery, even to herself… And that was infuriating to her. She was supposed to have all the answers! Why then couldn’t she figure this out?!?

She felt a hand grasp her shoulder. With tears in her eyes, Emmy looked back towards the one who did it. Miss McCree, was there. With a somber look in her eyes, she nodded at the young half elf. The tensity in her muscles melted away… and she sighed in defeat. Her limbs suddenly felt very heavy... and she couldn’t bare to keep them up any longer… so, they fell from the girls body, and landed limp on the ground.

“Come on Darling…” McCree sighed, hands reaching out for the despairing little girl. “Let’s get you inside…”

Alas... it seemed the only thing she could do, was stand up. She could tell herself if only, all day. If only she could do this. If only she could do that. If only that was possible... But none of it would help. What good could it even do? No. The only thing she could do, the only thing that would help... is to strive towards something better. Towards a reality where situations like this don’t happen as often. To do her job. Hard, though it may be... She felt for the girl... she really did. And she would do everything in her power to make up for what had been lost. It was her responsibility. Her life. She couldn’t stop. Not now. Not ever.

“Miss McCree...” she stammered, sniffling inward to push back her sadness. “Take care of her, alright?”

The older Woman nodded. “I always do... Miss Bluefire. You have my word.” she sighed. “Don’t beat yourself up over this... okay?”

Thinning her lips, Emmy only nodded in response, pushing tears from her eyes.

Moving forward was all she could do now. For herself, for Amber’s daughter... for Azeroth!

OOC note: I’m so sorry for the incredibly long post guys DX, when I initially started writing this I didn’t realized it’d be so lengthy! Buuut... I’m proud of how it turned out. And I hope you guys Enjoyed :D <3 you all, and thank you for getting through this :P

[xgojou]

vena amoris | one

pairing: jungkook/reader

genre: fluff and v light angst (i’m not sure since the actual plot ain’t there yet)

warning: cursing

word count: 4477

summary: a soulmate au with idol!jungkook where everyone has a soulmate number embed on their wrist. when the person exchange their first words with their soulmate, their soulmate’s name would materialize on their left ring finger, written in gray that is similar to their own handwriting. and once they make skin contact with their soulmate, the gray script would turn darker, the name would be defined with jet black ink, and that’s when it makes the two soulmates certain that they’ve found each other. the real summary is: how would you reach out to the one and only jeon jungkook?

[11:32PM] Lisa: Y/N, gurl, are you up?

You blinked your newly awoken eyes rapidly, checking your phone for any notification. There was nothing in there except for Twitter, notifying you that your favorite boy group posted a picture, and another one, a message that came from your best friend, so you clicked that chat, yawning after reading the question. You weren’t in the mood to fangirl, your head was throbbing and you probably won’t feel all giddy about the status update so you just ignored it and swiped it away.

You went drinking with your squad on broad daylight around two o’clock in the afternoon, and Lisa was your wingman. There was an unspoken rule between the two of you that once the other is already intoxicated, they’ll have to take her home, even though they haven’t had their share of fun yet. So when ten shots of pure vodka had been laid out in front of you after a few minutes of preparing, you downed them all, not even hesitating and caring about its nasty taste or the way it burned your throat. After fifteen minutes, you felt your head spinning, body unconsciously dropping on the floor and all you could remember was that your squad was forming a circle around you dancing, as if you were some sort of campfire. Lisa took you home immediately when you passed out on the floor.

You did not want to stay in the bar for long, that’s why you took every drink laid out in front of you fast without even pausing for a chaser. It was two in the afternoon and all you wanted to do was stay at home and weep over the fact that you’re already nearing your mid-twenties and haven’t met your soulmate yet. People, including your family and friends, met their soulmates when they were around eighteen to twenty years old. So you knew that yours was really becoming more and more delayed as more time continue to pass by. It was a moving-on-party that they organized especially for you. You didn’t get what was it exactly that you’ll move on from, but you believe that they’re just trying to cheer you up, to indirectly say that you should just have fun and not get so sad and worked up over the fact that you’re still single. 

During the past few years of your life, you did not care about finding your soulmate. All you did was study, hang out with your family, happy thursdays with your friends and etc. Never did looking for your soulmate ever crossed your mind. In your teenage years, you were pretty concerned about it but as you turned eighteen, you didn’t mind it that much anymore, since you thought it would eventually come within two years. You had your fair share of flings, but they were all because you were feeling rebellious, all of those love affairs were petty and just for fun. And besides, that rebellious stage only lasted for a year. You still took the soulmate system serious, yes, keeping in mind that the person you’re having the moment with also has a soulmate.

When you turned twenty-three, you were starting to get anxious, troubled on why you haven’t met anyone with the same numbers as the ones on your wrist or why you haven’t felt any of the serious sparks they were talking about, or why nobody’s name has made its way to your ring finger yet. You’ve heard scary stories and seen some elders grow old alone, not having met their soulmate yet, only marrying and settling for the ones alike to them, the ones that haven’t met their own soulmates, too. You were afraid, what if you became like them? They were content, but not as happy as the ones that have met their other halves, the ones that filled their happiness to the brim. You certainly did not want to have a content, but loveless marriage. You were terrified, you did not want to feel that way, which is what you’re starting to feel as you get near your mid-twenties. You thought, that maybe in your next life it would be fine to not meet your soulmate, that this lifetime should be the best one, that maybe the you in the your next life would be able to accept such fate.

[12:04AM] You: i’m wide awake

Yup, you are indeed wide awake with an awful hangover. Shit, you thought, after realizing that your body clock just got ruined again. It was always like this during your holidays vacation. You go to your family to celebrate then after two days, go back to your own house, have your own party, go to other people’s party, go to the bar or the club with your friends, hike a mountain, or just stay in and watch dramas or your favorite boy group’s videos.

[12:04AM] You: wide awake wide awake no lie

[12:04AM] Lisa: LMFAO STOP THAT WE NEED TO DISCUSS SERIOUS MATTERS RIGHT NOW

[12:05AM] Lisa: You know you’re the one that got me in to bangtan, right?

[12:07AM] You: yeah? why?

You browse through your Twitter timeline lazily, it’s been drought for you lately since the boy group you’re stanning is still preparing for their comeback. All of the members have gone MIA, pictures of their shoes or their dogs or updates on how their preparation is going are the only ones they could ever tweet, worsening the thirst everyone’s been trying to satisfy.

[12:08AM] Lisa: And you know how crazy I became for them, right?

[12:08AM] You: yes? why? get to the point please

Your head felt stuffed, it was pounding and you were getting lazier to even type anything. You’ve always had a short temper whenever you have a headache, so everything could annoy you easily, especially when people are getting extremely chatty when you’re obviously not in the mood to talk.

[12:09AM] Lisa: Do you remember how much I cried when they announced two years ago that Jimin found his soulmate?

[12:10AM] You: oh shit yes? you were a mess when i got to your house hah smudged eye make-up, my god, you looked terrible

You and Lisa are both strong, down-to-earth and independent women, but both of you, at the same time, have always been soft towards your precious boy groups, especially to your biases.

[12:10AM] You: but that’s how you met ten, right?

[12:10AM] You: that if it weren’t for jimin’s announcement, you wouldn’t have met your chittaphon in the bar

[12:11AM] Lisa: LMAO YES. DAMN. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A HAPPY AND PEACEFUL DAY WITH MY GREAT MAKE UP. But anyway, It was a win-lose situation.

[12:11AM] You: yup hahahhaha

[12:11AM] You: cancelled plans are the worst fgagfjgjak ten ain’t that bad tho plus he’s pretty handsome

[12:11AM] Lisa: I KNOW GAL, I GOT LUCKY 

[12:11AM] You: yeah u bitch hah so what was it that you were trying to say?  

[12:12AM] Lisa: Go check the boys’ twitter account. ;) I’ll wait for you hysterically knocking at my door, bawling your eyes out

[12:12AM] You: well fuck?????? do you mean??? 

[12:12AM] You: ……………….!!!!????

You typed your reply frantically in just a matter of what felt like milliseconds, very overwhelmed and confused at what she’s saying.

[12:12AM] You: are you saying that the last man standing, my baBY BOY jeON JUNGKOOK FOUND HIS SOULMATE?

[12:13AM] Lisa: Not really hahahahaha but go see for yourself, hun.

You immediately went to their Twitter account, scrolling down very fast that you almost passed your sole reason of going there. You clicked on the tweet that BTS made a few hours ago, it was probably Jungkook since there’s a hashtag of his initials at the end of the tweet.

‘I’m looking for someone with the similar numbers. Please contact me immediately by sending a direct message if you have or know someone who has the same digits. #JK’ 

You let out a sigh, relief washing through your body. Jungkook haven’t found his soulmate yet, but is looking for it. You can’t blame him, though. He’s growing older like you, and needs to find the one that complements him immediately. And just like how the rest of your friends found theirs, his hyungs a.k.a the rest of BTS are all already happy with their soulmates, just waiting for the right time to get married, while him, Jungkook, he’s the only who haven’t even met his soulmate yet. Before checking out the actual picture, you scrolled, reading the responses of his fans. One asked, oppa, is that your own soulmate number?!?! and to which he replied, yes. it is. 

Jungkook doesn’t care about that forbidden word anymore. He doesn’t mind it when fans call him oppa, as most of his older fans have already found their soulmates. So basically, most of his fans now are the younger ones who haven’t met their other halves yet.

You stopped reading the reactions, and braced yourself for the upcoming emotional breakdown, scared that his numbers might be different from yours, knowing all too well that the possibility of you being his soulmate is just so small, with the number of people in this world.

As you clicked the picture with bated breath and took in every single digit that was embed with jet black ink on his milky white skin, you sat up straight so fast that your vision filled with dark patches.

Your head was throbbing, hangover at its finest now that Jungkook just revealed his soulmate number. And you can’t process what your mind was trying to tell you yet but when the realization that the numbers you just read are all too familiar, you felt your heart stop for a moment, every part of your body felt tingly and cold. You stood up on your feet and looked at your own wrist then back to your phone.

With wide eyes, you continued staring at every single digit that was embed on your own wrist then back at Jungkook’s through your phone. Still incredulous about it, you dropped both of your hands and dictated your own numbers that you’ve memorized after looking at it several times for years. Then, you brought your phone up to your face again, seeing the same numbers, checking one last time if you’re just seeing things or if you’ve at least one wrong number. If someone was watching you right now, they would probably think you’re some crazy wench who’s high on marijuana, eyes still slightly red and wide from just waking up and with shock while looking at their wrist and phone.

Your body dropped, knees suddenly feeling weak. While staring at the ceiling, you suddenly screamed to the top of your lungs, you rolled on your bed and explored every side of it, while squealing to your pillow. You suddenly feel like a teenage girl again, crushing on the cute boys that pass by you and your friend in the mall. You’ve never been this happy about your soulmate mark that appeared at age 9.

You stumbled as you ran down the stairs, almost falling down on your way to the living room. You threw all the cushions that were on the sofa on the floor, feeling adrenaline pump through your veins. Then you decided to go back, walking back up the stairs all the way to your bedroom, not feeling even a dot of tiredness on your knees. Your head is still throbbing, but you’re smiling widely and you can’t feel the pain anymore. You’ve finally lost your mind.

Jeon Jungkook is your soulmate.

 After doing your rounds of crazy shit, you thought you needed to tell somebody, and of course, that somebody just had to be your best friend that informed you about the great news. You would tell your family eventually, once you finally get Jungkook’s contact.

[12:30AM] You: holy fucking shit, lisa i can’t keep my calm

[12:31AM] Lisa: It’s okay, gurl. I know, you’ll get over it. Jungkook is an ass anyway. The nerve that he has to still look for a soulmate… ew just annoying, right? 

You were about to continue what you were going to say after getting a reply from Lisa, but three dots bouncing after the other beside her icon meant she’s still going to add something so you pushed aside your exciting news, questioning why she said such things, and waited for her to continue what she’s about to say, confusion clouding your mind.

[12:31AM] You: what do you mean? does he not have the right to look for his soulmate????

[12:32AM] Lisa: You know how I disliked him for being such a fuck boy, right? And that I never got your point on why you still liked him despite having a bad reputation, remember?

[12:32AM] Lisa: Like, you usually un-stan an idol who dates a girl despite knowing that they aren’t soulmates or articles about them sleeping around came out. But you never got yourself off Jungkook, no matter how many times he let you down..

[12:33AM] Lisa: He even did the two things I said, dated girls who aren’t his soulmate and slept around… The two things you hate so much lmao…. Hitting home run for you but you still remained????? 

You were left speechless and expressionless as you read Lisa’s message. She was right. You almost forgot the fact that Jungkook just gained the title of a fuckboy when all of his hyungs found their soulmates, and he was the only one left and haven’t even met his yet, when Taehyung found his other half a year ago, the youngest boy became a mess. Then that came the time he just decided to give up. It was like he didn’t care about fate or destiny anymore. Your situation was almost similar to Jungkook, but you were stronger. You didn’t sleep around with random boys, no matter how many tried initiating doing such things with you. You’ve been there done that, and you certainly did not want to go back to your rebellious stage, your self-control is more solid, and you’re way more sophisticated, mature, and calm now.

[12:34AM] You: oh fUCK YES I REMEMBER UGH HE STILL DOES THOSE THINGS OH MY GOD LISA IDK WHAT TO SAY SO I’M COMING OVER

[12:34AM] Lisa: I’ll prepare the tissues now, oh and should we head to the bar after your wailing?

You didn’t have the time to reply to Lisa as you walked to the bathroom, brushed your teeth, washed your face and then made a beeline to your car, not even bothering to change from your onesie pajamas.

You knocked loudly, banged on Lisa’s door as hard as you can, but it didn’t take long as it only took her at least 5 seconds to get to the door, as if she was just waiting near it the whole time; just like how you did when Jimin announced that he found his soulmate, finally revealing the numbers on his forearm, digits that didn’t match hers.

“Oh, why aren’t you crying?” Lisa said as her eyebrows quirked up, eyes widening a little with slight surprise that you aren’t a weeping mess. She closed the door when you pushed by her, not even waiting for her to let you inside.

You flopped on her couch, and started moving around frantically, holding a cushion up your face to suppress your eardrum cracking screams.

“Shh! Ten is just sleeping inside!” Lisa shushed you, not wanting to wake the boy up. “Anyway, how are you managing?” she chuckled as she flopped beside you. You eyed her from top to bottom, she was wearing an over-sized t-shirt. Yup, you thought. Ten is definitely here. If the latter was going to wake up, you’re bound to get third-wheeled again.

“Oh, you don’t know how well I’m coping with everything.” you said with a wide grin as you looked at her

“Have you gone crazy?” she said, smiling as she raised an eyebrow up, “And are you like… semi-high? One of your eyes are red.”

“Semi-high, seriously?” you shook your head, you would never smoke. “I got soap in my eyes earlier,”

“I figured.” she mumble with a shrug.

“And also, yes. I officially lost my mind, my dear friend.” you said as you turned your gaze to the ceiling, clenched your fingers, and placed both of your palms on top of your forehead

“It’s okay, dear. I know that feeling.” she said, tapping on your shoulder, “I used to not care, before. Like, it’s okay if I end up with any of the members.” she said, earning a laugh from you as you two high-fived. 

You agreed with every word she just said. “Seriously, girl, any of the seven handsome boys would do, even if it’s not our bias. Heck, if only we could end up with the seven of them, that’d be the greatest thing ever.” you replied, hitting her arms hysterically as you two laughed your asses out.

When the two of you finally calmed down, she continued, “But now? I think I don’t want that big ass baby anymore. I pity whoever Jungkook’s soulmate is. Seriously, he’s going to be a pain in the ass.”

“Yep. It’s gonna be hard to tame that horndog.” you said with a worried smile plastered on your face.

“You’ve definitely gone crazy, mate. I can’t believe you’re smiling right now, and you could even laugh. Just be glad that you won’t experience the hard time that Jungkook will give his soulmate.” Lisa said, she definitely has no idea that you meant what you said, that it really is you that will have to tame that wild ass boy.

Lisa grabbed the remote, turning the TV on as you stood up and went to the kitchen.

After a few minutes of checking every single drawer and cabinet in the kitchen, failing to find the thing you were looking for: milk, you decided to call Lisa’s attention.

“Lisa!”

“What?! Are you looking for something, Y/N?!” Lisa screamed, noticing that you’ve been there for a while now.

“Milk! Also, so much for waking up Ten, Lisa!” you screamed back at her.

“You’re slipping away from sanity again, dear! You’re always like this when you’re sad about your soulmate! And, Ten is kind of a heavy sleeper!” you chuckled at her response, she definitely knew you. You just can’t stay still when you’re overwhelmed with feelings, you keep walking around, and your mind was always flying elsewhere whenever you were crestfallen. “Also, the milk’s in the fridge, dumbass!” she screamed again, maybe she was really forgetting that Ten is actually just sleeping in the bedroom, no matter how much of a heavy sleeper he is, with the amount of loudness you two were making, Ten is definitely bound to wake up in the next few minutes.

You suddenly felt stupid as you opened the fridge, the place where milk would most likely be, and started pouring it in the tall glass you were holding.

“Oh my god! Y/N! Y/N! Come here! Hurry! Look at this! It’s Bangtan on the show! And it’s fucking live!” she yelled and you immediately slammed the fridge door close, ran back to the living room, and spilled a bit of precious milk on the floor in the process. “Their first appearance in three goddamned weeks.” you nodded at that, it felt like it’s been two years for you.

While drinking the cold milk, you and Lisa watched the variety show featuring BTS, your eyes automatically searching for your one and only soulmate, Jeon Jungkook.

“Recently, you surprised everyone by posting your soulmate number, despite having not met her yet, making some fans sad, disappointed that it’s not them, some are even faking it up with the help of make-up! What made you post your number, Jungkook?” the female host asked

“I’m just.. I’m just desperate to find her.” he said with a shrug, you looked at his eyes, hints of sadness evident in them.

You now know the reason on why you just can’t stop fangirling on Jungkook, no matter how much time passes, no matter how much your friends distract you, and no matter how much he disappoints you, you just never get tired of him, the excitement never grew faint compared to the past groups you’ve loved, you could just never forget about him. He was your soulmate, after all.

“Why now?” the male host questioned with squinted eyes.

“Well, as all of you know, I’ve had my own few flings,” he said and paused for a while, “But not a single one of them has ever made me feel the intense spark that my hyungs were talking about. Not a single one ever triggered the mark that’s supposed to be on my left ring finger.”

“Own few flings, my goddamned ass, Jeon Jungkook!” you said mockingly, emphasizing the word few as much as you can, earning a hysterical laughter from Lisa. The number of girls he went out with for the past year was no joke. The pictures of him kissing female celebrities or random girls that circulated around the internet were too real. And you certainly knew with your own judgement on what was photoshopped and what was not. Jungkook just had too much love affairs within the past year that you could say it certainly wasn’t just few. 

“Oh! The intense spark that you feel when you meet your soulmate! And the mark that assures you it is indeed them!” the other male host said, nodding while he looked at his fellow hosts, and the rest of Bangtan.

“Yes. That spark that develops into a crazy and big, but pleasant wildfire when you start interacting.” Taehyung said while smiling widely, the boy is indeed still new to all of the soulmate stuff.

“Taehyung is so adorable, oh dear lord!” Lisa said, as you both squealed at the same time, admiring the boy’s cuteness.

“So, yeah. I guess that’s pretty much it. I want to feel something more intense.” Jungkook said, looking down at his clasped hands, looking a little dejected. 

The discussion slowly flew somewhere else, from their daily lives, to how hard they’re preparing for their comeback, etc. and nothing connected to the topic you wanted to listen to the most right now: soulmates.

The show ended, and you found yourself falling for Jungkook all over again, even more so now that you’re aware that you’re the said boy’s soulmate.

“He should’ve just posted it back then, when they still weren’t that famous. He shouldn’t have covered it all this time. He would’ve found her easily without that many people meddling.” you said, with a low voice and wide eyes, the fact that you’ll have a hard time to actually reach out to Jungkook hitting you so suddenly, that you’re starting to panic.

“Yeah, well, they wouldn’t hit it big then. Some fans are just immature, you know? When they find out that they aren’t their soulmate, they’ll lose their shit and not stan them anymore.” she said. Lisa has a point. That was probably the reason why idols never show their soulmate number to fans. Jungkook was the only idol to ever do such a thing.

“But look at all the replies on Twitter now. Crazy girls are covering their own number with make-up, and copying Jungkook’s soulmate number to their wrist.” you said while staring at your own wrist

“Yup, they’re beyond desperate. It wouldn’t do anything but cause confusion, though. Since their name wouldn’t really show on Jungkook’s ring finger.” Lisa said, and showed her ring finger to you.

“Wow. It must feel really great, huh? Everlasting love..” you said while eyeing the incredibly long name Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul on Lisa’s finger. “Even someone from Thailand, too.”

“Yeah. Nationality doesn’t matter, though. I’ll have you know once again that six members of Bangtan are soulmates with non-Koreans.” Lisa said with an excited smile, “It’s just a mere coincidence that me and Ten are both Thai.” she said with a chuckle

“Yeah, you two even met on a foreign land,” you said as you take a sip on your milk that has lost its coldness. 

“Who knows? You might meet your soulmate here, too. You are a foreigner too, you know?” she said, eliciting a shrug from you.

“I’ll let you know something, Lisa. ” you said as you put your glass back on the table.

“What is it?” Lisa questioned with narrowed eyes.

“Jungkook’s soulmate is a foreigner.” you beamed, proud of who your soulmate is. 

“How’d you know that?”

“Take a look at Jungkook’s soulmate number.” you said as you browsed your gallery, clicking on the most recent picture that you saved in your Twitter album.

You raised your phone for her to see, “Yeah?” she inquired.

“Look at my own number.” you said still not bringing your phone down, eliciting a frown from her as she squinted her eyes at your own fresh wrist next to the gadget, then back at your phone.

She gasped, and suddenly, you were feeling giddy again, letting go of your phone as you grabbed the cushion, putting it up on your face once again as you tried to suppress the loudness of your screams.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lisa yelped, bewildered but her face was painted with a wide and excited smile as she rubbed and wiped your wrist, trying to see if you were just faking it. “Holy fucking shit! You aren’t kidding!”

You put the cushion back down on your lap and looked at your best friend with the widest grin that the corner of your lips could ever handle. After five seconds of staring, at the same time as if on timer, you two bursted out into fits of yelping and screaming like mad people, and hugged each other, while still shrieking.

Ten suddenly came out of the bedroom door, with wide and bloodshot eyes, frantically making his way to the two of you, putting a stop on the crazy yelping that you and your best friend were doing. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked, panic painted all over his features

“Dear! Y/N’s soulmate is Jungkook!” Lisa said with big eyes and a wide smile as she turned her head to her own soulmate.

You screeched, “Yes! My fucking soulmate is the fucking Jeon Jungkook!” you said very loudly, throwing the cushion to the boy’s face.

“Seriously?” Ten asked as he caught the cushion that just fell from his face, confirming if everything was just a faux act to prank him or if it was all real. You nodded fast at his ridiculous question, “Oh my god! I’m so happy for you, Y/N!” Ten said as he joined in the hug, the two of you shriek once again making the boy pull back to cover his ears.