#but this entire story is interspersed

[phoenixkaptain]

I wanna talk about You Boys Play Games Very Well because it is the funniest story I’ll ever read in my life.

First things first: Ling Meng. MengMeng. The best boy. He’s just like me fr his head is full of only video games and food. He also puffs out his cheeks like a pufferfish when upset and that’s just too relatable. Anyway, he’s also super tiny but calls himself Lemon Daddy, and I can’t explain to you how funny it is when he does a face reveal and everyone is so upset and thinks he’s underage-

And Shan Zhu! (His brother’s name is Shan Zha and I know it’s written in characters not English, but in English it’s equivalent to naming one kid Charles and the other Charlie, it cracks me up and the author definitly knew this, okay, they knew-) Shan Zha played one game when Lemon Daddy told him to take things more seriously and he went “…he’s got a point” and became one of the top players. Because someone on a game told him to take things more seriously.

I have a lot to say on Shan Zhu, okay, he is the funniest love interest of all times. First of all, his nicknames include Mango, Mang God (God Mango), Mangosteen, and Apple. He’s called Mango because his name Mangosteen got mispronounced. He started a small account, Apple, because Ling Meng thought Mang God was going to the same school as him and started a tournament to see, and Shan Zhu joined because he wanted the second place prize.

WHAT - you ask - WAS THE SECOND PLACE PRIZE? I’m so glad you brought it up! Ling Meng told everyone it was his nudes, but it was actually a picture of him in the bath from when he was a baby, but yes, Shan Zhu joined a tournament under a newly made account name just so he could deliberately throw the match at the last second and win Ling Meng’s naked photo (which is especially funny because he’s called a walking calculator; he does wildly impressive math all in his head in a couple of seconds and so he deliberately did the math to make his missiles miss, his talent level is off the charts). WHY - you ask - did he do ANY OF THIS? Because he got told by Lemon Daddy to take thing more seriously, then the second time they met, Lemon told him “You boys play games very well” and honestly, who wouldn’t be smitten?

(Also, they made a bet and he did manage to get Ling Meng to try and buy condoms at the school store, so- Look, just read the novel, it makes sense, definitely, just read it-)

But Shan Zha (the most obvious man who has ever existed) and Ling Meng (the most oblivious man who has ever existed) are not the best characters, that honour goes to Xiang Jiao, or Banana, or Guava. Guava is the absolute best character of all time, because he has the biggest crush on Ling Meng yet does absolutely nothing about it. The multiple scenes where he just asks Mango and Apple (which are the same person) if he wants to go pro are very funny, because Shan Zha responds with a no every time, but Guava keeps asking.

Guava has a shit ton of money and uses it almost exclusively to send it to Ling Meng. My favourite part is when someone asks him his hobbies and his coach mentions that he’s been watching a streamer lately (Ling Meng) and Guava says it’s an entertainment streamer (he isn’t really) and says he watches because it’s funny and the coach says “He’s never laughed once.”

Also, Guava asking Ling Meng for his autograph is just hilarious.

Also also, the sex scenes are entirely fruit and rollercoaster metaphors. I don’t know why. But I like it a lot.

So yeah, 10/10, recommend, read You Boys Play Games Very Well, it’s all worth it for Guava being the biggest Lemon fan, and Shan Zhu being the biggest Ling Meng trumpet blower and defender. (Ling Meng is good at everything. Promise, he definitely is, would the extremely biased and smitten Shan Zhu lie to me??) And the chat is pretty funny too. Very good, very funny, so funny, like honestly I laugh so hard every time I read it.

[lemongogo]

[dreamofbecoming]

ughhhhh new therapist appts are the wooooorst like hello. very nice to meet you. here is everything that has ever happened to me. no it’s not in order. is my video working for you? please dig through the overflowing garbage can that is my brain and tell me if you know what’s wrong with me. yes i have my insurance card right here sorry.

[izzy-b-hands]

Had a minor breakdown over Family Feelings and my grandparents selling their house

Have rediscovered David Bowie's song 'Cactus' (u should go listen to it. Yes, u.)

...these two things combined mean I now somehow have an idea for an Ed/Izzy fill for the 'Epistolary' prompt coming up but also. also. I would sound insane trying to explain it bc idk if i can imply the emotions well enough thru letters between two emotionally backed up ppl and god. if I can't do this idea justice then i feel like i cant do anything else for that prompt. like if i could do it WELL it would be so fucking good. It would also be a continuation of the music/band au from earlier in the month and like i just !!!!!!

i didn't sleep till 4 am thinking this over and now im AWAKE and should WRITE IT but what if i FUCK IT UP

Im fine

[adore-laur]

would love to see how dadrry would react if his girls asked him for a baby brother 🤭

——

At dinner, after Harry picked the girls up from preschool and daycare, your eldest rambles on about her classroom adventures through spoonfuls of homemade fruit pasta. You smile at her with an undefinable amount of fondness while hanging on to every word. She seems to be loving school and adapting just fine to not seeing her parents as often throughout the weekdays. It could crumble your heart into ruins if you let it, but you focus on the bright side: it's one less thing to worry about when you're away from your babies. She's safe, she's happy, and while you miss her dearly during the day, her independence is blooming beautifully. It's evident in how she can hardly sit still in the morning.

Harry listens intently, only interspersing questions when appropriate so as not to make her lose her train of thought. Your youngest is sitting on his lap, secured by his fingers splayed across her tummy, while his other hand absentmindedly pretends to be an airplane serving applesauce straight into her awaiting mouth. It's a blissfully domestic scene, and you sometimes wish you could view it outside of your body and witness the pure, tangible love surrounding the kitchen table from an outsider's perspective.

The mellow evening sunlight washes the room in a dandelion-colored hue, and the California heat floats through the window to warm your soul. Crashing ocean waves accompany the sound of silverware clinking and the sweet lilt of your daughter's voice. With the weekend ahead, you feel a strong sense of contentedness. Being at home with the entire family, with no obligations pulling you apart, feels like diving into a pool on a hot summer day—it relaxes your muscles and rejuvenates your mind.

In the middle of a story about finding worms on the pavement during recess, your daughter, with unbridled enthusiasm, says, "A friend I talked to today told me she has a baby brother."

"Really?" Harry replies, matching her enthusiasm. "Did you tell her you have a sister?"

"Yeah, and I also told her I want a brother."

The bite of grilled chicken you swallow almost gets stuck on the way down your esophagus. Your eyes shoot to Harry, whose eyes are already locked on yours with humorous shock swimming in them. He hides his smile against the baby's head before kissing it. Then, he waves his hand, silently signaling for you to take the lead.

"A brother," you say slowly, fidgeting with the napkin beside your plate. "You want a baby brother. When... sorry, how long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since today at school!" On the high chair, she sits on her knees and beams with excitement. "My friend says her brother is cute and fat. Now I want one."

Harry, your savior, jumps in by saying, "Your baby sister is cute. And, well, she's chubby." He pats her precious little potbelly and bounces her in his lap. "Like most babies are."

"I want a baby sister and brother."

"Why do you want a brother?" you ask, mystified by the unexpected dinner conversation. Before her little sister was conceived, she only asked for a sibling. Now she's getting specific, and you're lost on how to answer adequately.

"Because." Dead silence follows her response as she stabs her silicone fork into the last pineapple tidbit in her bowl.

"Fair enough," Harry says. There's a sneaky glint in his gaze, and you know he's enjoying this subject matter far too much. You never have to worry about bringing up the prospect of having another baby together since you know he's all in. But since you're the one who carries the babies and pushes them out, he understands you're not quite ready yet. Or, at least, your body isn't.

"We can't guarantee you a brother," you say gently. "That's not how it works."

She frowns, looking at you and then at Harry. "How does it work?"

Harry snorts and stands up to begin clearing the empty dishes. "You should save that question for another time, lovebug." He kisses her cheek as he passes by. "C'mon, show me how Mommy taught you to wash your hands."

——

Later that night in bed, you lay your head on Harry's bare chest and delicately trace your fingers along the length of his bicep. The room is still, and his breathing is a constant sound and rhythm against your skin. Knowing you get to bask in his presence all day tomorrow is a wonderful thought to fall asleep to.

The weekend plans are still in discussion. Maybe you'll all just stay home and have a beach day. Maybe you'll take the kids to the park and fly the kites Harry recently bought for a breezy day. Whatever may come, you know there will be love and laughter in abundance.

"I need your breakfast order for tomorrow," Harry says, his voice gruff. He had a busy day at work, so you took over the kid's bedtime routine while he luxuriated in a long, hot shower and did his nightly stretches.

"I can get up to help," you reply. You know it's quite literally his job to cook meals for people, but you want to take a load off his shoulders. Going into parent mode after a long work week is no easy feat for anyone. It requires teamwork.

"No, you're sleeping in." He wraps you in his arms and buries his nose into your hair. "I'm serving you breakfast in bed with a side of cuddles."

You smile sleepily. "I'd like that. I'll eat whatever you make, by the way. Surprise me."

He squeezes you, slides his thigh between yours, and murmurs, "Think I'll eat you instead."

You lift your head and kiss his mint-flavored lips to shut him up. He always likes to start things right before bedtime. There's something about the intimacy of being alone with a locked door in the quiet night with the man you wake up to every morning. It's rare to indulge in moments like these.

"So, a baby brother, huh?" you say, switching gears to more innocent matters. You need all the sleep you can get tonight.

Harry laughs, his eyebrows raised as he rubs his hand down his face. "She kind of demanded it, didn't she?"

"Oh, don't even start with that." He'll use anything as a way to inspire the idea of a third child.

"You know my answer. And hers, apparently. I'll be patiently waiting until you say the word."

"What's the word?"

He hums a deep, thoughtful rumble beneath you. "Let's make another baby."

"How discreet," you say, laying your head back on his chest. "Anyway, I think a two-year gap is what works best. It gives me time to, you know, recover from the craziness and sleep deprivation."

"You want another baby with me?"

The fact that he even has to ask is befuddling. There is no one you would rather do this with. He's the best husband and the best father—the family you’re creating with him is just beginning.

"Yeah," you say softly, admiring the vulnerable look in his eyes. "One more. Maybe two."

Harry pleasurably groans and shifts his hips, the mere idea of knocking you up again somehow turning him on. You feel his hardness, which makes you roll your eyes. Men are too easy.

Once he settles down, he says, "Take all the time you need, sweetheart. I'm tremendously happy with what we have right now."

"What if we end up having another girl?"

"Then consider me the luckiest man in the universe." He tilts his head on the pillow. "Is it bad if I secretly hope that happens?"

"You’d have three princesses to spoil rotten."

"Four," he whispers, tapping his fingers along your spine. With a sleepy sigh, he adds, "It's been hard being away from them. From you."

Although he keeps his promise of always being home by dinnertime, he doesn't always get to drop the girls off at school in the morning. By the time you get them settled in the car, he's already in the trenches at work. To make up for it, he cooks their breakfasts and kisses them goodbye before he leaves.

"We have our trip to Italy next month," you mention.

"Fuck, that's right." Harry seamlessly flips you over so that he's hovering over you. "Perfect time and place for babymaking. Maybe we should start practicing right now."

You place your palm over his mouth and say, "Shut up."

For the next hour, he uses his mouth for… other reasons.

——

[tokiwarcube]

I have a funny thought ! How would the boys react to their s/o meeting their parents. I feel like this would be hilarious or uncomfortable for the s/o (because they may get to see pictures of the boys when they were babies/kids or some of them talking about weird topics) but downright mortifying for the guys, because they’re parents are embarrassing at times, lol !!

And it’s okay if you don’t do this one, have a nice day or night :) 

I swear, I went into this with silliness and joy in my heart. But alas, not all of our boys had... passable parents. Not angst, but some of our boys are tinged with it.

Nathan Explosion

Maybe if he smashes the photo frames, he can gouge out his eardums so he doesn’t have to listen to this anymore. He regrets ever introducing you to them, and worse, he’s wishing death unto whoever created the fucking camera. How do they have this many photos of him? How do they remember such weird shit about his childhood? How does he not remember that phase, and how did they even get that photo? He hates every moment of this. I mean really, with how quickly Rose pulled out the baby albums, its like she’s been waiting for this moment her entire life. Maybe she has. And he knows his dad has too, with how readily he’s jumping on to add details to every little story. He knows you’re never gonna let him live any of this down.

He would like a copy of him, age 10, punching Donald Duck though. Now that, that was brutal.

Pickles the Drummer

If the stories that Molly remembered weren’t so damn embarrassing, he might feel happy that she remembers so much of his toddling years. But then she’s pulling out her phone to show you the old family photos she “sent to the clouds,” and she’s zooming in on one of his baby photos, and good God, he’s about to walk into the woods and never come back. He hates that stupid polo shirt.

He chooses not to comment on how she doesn’t talk about his teenage years, and he bites his tongue when the garage discussion comes up. Place a hand on his thigh to quell his bouncing leg before he loses it, please.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

This could go one of two ways — either A.) She sets her sights on you, or B.) She doesn’t. The former is just about the most uncomfortable situation you could possibly be in, and no amount of reminders that you’re dating her son will dissuade her. When Servetta is over, Skwisgaar has learned to just keep his head down, ignore everything, and just practice his scales. But the moment she starts flirting with you? It’s the only time you’ve ever heard him miss a note.

In the latter case though, she does actually try to regale you with stories from Skwisgaar’s childhood… but they’re tinged with a sadness that frankly, I don’t think she entirely grasps. Stories of him holding her hair back in the morning, that time he punched one of her dates, or that time he walked home in the snow because he thought she forgot him at school… not all of the stories are like that, mind you, but they’re interspersed so casually with the normal ones that really, it leaves a rather heavy impression.

Toki Wartooth

He’s catatonic, and for better or for worse, doesn’t recall much of the meeting once they leave. He’s left with very faint memories, ghost-like in nature, of Anja silently encouraging you to go out on the town with her… but it’s all very foggy.

William Murderface

Now surely, murder has to be warranted in this case. How the hell Stella keeps finding him, he’ll never know — what he does know, however, is that he’s about to lose his fucking mind. Rationally, he knows that the stories she’s telling shouldn’t be that embarrassing — he still pisses in the apple bins at the grocery store, who gives a fuck? — but it’s the way she says it that just makes his anger boil and his face flush in embarrassment. You have to be the voice of reason for him, otherwise he might actually kill her this time.

[villainofmyownstory]

Three copies and some signatures

Simon/Reader/(Johnny)

I don't know I don't have an idea for a title, so I wrote anything. I know some people are waiting for the next part of Day Zero, I'm slowly writing the next chapter but need more time, but don't worry I didn't abandon it! I was motivated to write this thing by anon's shitty ask to @/rememberwren about “too many fics about Ghoap” lmao . So I also wrote something about Ghoap. Because WHY NOT? Aaaaand if you don't know Wren's wonderful work leave everything and go and read it -> HERE <3

I would like to write the next parts, but I can't promise anything.

tags: angst, hurt no comfort

don't know how to tag :< let me know what to add

______________________________________________________________

Of course it had to end this way.

It was more than certain that you would end up in this place eventually. With sweaty hands and a heart that was beating too fast and heavy. Your heart rate increased and your breathing quickened. Drops of sweat appeared every now and then on your heated forehead and you tried again and again to wipe them off. To dry your shiny skin at least for a while. At least look a little presentable.

The crumpled white shirt no longer looked like the one you had ironed for over an hour. Now crumpled and stained, it carelessly hugged your curvy body.

The chair creaked with your every move. Nervously every now and then you change positions as if at least the comfort of sitting would improve your situation.

More minutes pass and the door in front of you is still closed. The paint on them is coming off in some places, revealing the banal light-colored plywood. The entire anturage of this building cries out for renovation.

Despite the well-paid work of the people who work here, the base looks as if its glory years are long behind it and there are no funds to even refresh the walls. It's as if for at least 20 years no one has noticed the cracked walls, the paint falling off or the crooked fine wooden chairs.

Maybe it's just appearances.

You shift in your seat again. The creak of the wooden chair echoes through the empty and cold corridor. Despite the early hour of the day and the sun outside the windows, everything inside seems harsh and unfriendly. To your relief there are not many windows so the prevailing semi-darkness makes you feel marginally more at ease. At least a little anonymity. Maybe the small number of people who passed you walking through the corridor with a quick step won't remember you and when you leave these walls after all, no one will ever shout after you on the street. They won't associate you with this place. With him.

Only when that happens. When this hell will finally come to an end. How long will it be when you are free again? Because every doorbell ringing, every unfamiliar number on screen or finally an unfamiliar customer at work looking at you for too long. It won't all cause that nervousness, that cursed lump in your throat and more gray hairs on your head. Every fucking minute spent in fear.

Someone will finally find out.

Reasons.

Everyone has some. Everyone has a story, some problems, something that makes them look for solutions. The question is whether it was worth it to risk so much. Whether committing a crime was worth it to choose to live here. To continue living in this country.

To be alive.

In the distance you can hear someone's conversation, laughter interspersed with words. Empty corridors carry sounds that ring in your ears, but everything blends into an incomprehensible cacophony of sounds. Into one piece.

You know that resounding, hearty laughter well.

You have heard it many times.

The melody, once heard, is forever imprinted in your memory.

Rhythmically approaching footsteps, voices are getting louder. Two people.

They are close.

The danger makes you feel trapped. Like an injured prey caught in a trap on a hunt.

You nervously look around looking for any way to escape. However, the only way to get out of this place is through this damn corridor, the direction from which you hear the approaching voices.

Panic grips your body and mind, many thoughts appear one second not allowing you to focus and remain rational.

He is about to be right here.

As you involuntarily bite your lower lip and try not to sob, the door finally opens.

A tall and muscular man stands in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the room, like a knight on a white horse with a friendly and affable smile. He greets you and says your name. His name. 

Finally, he invites you inside. This time you managed to escape.

Captain Price. This much you know crossing the threshold of this room. In the morning when two sad gentlemen knocked on your door. You expected to be handcuffed, or something else entirely. Something you were being prepared for.  It could always happen. KIA.

And now, sitting in a more comfortable chair than the ones in the corridor, you look at his Captain. A person you knew a lot about, as well as the entire Task Force 141.

After all, you are a good student. You diligently applied yourself to your lessons. You memorized every word.

Every truth and every prepared lie.

Your made-up life.

The captain leans back in his chair still looking at you, despite the stress of the situation a calmness beats from the man.

You expected accusations, shouting, nervousness and humiliation.

Nothing of the sort happens.

“It's good to finally meet you.”

He says, tilting his head gently to the side and grinning at you.

“When Laswell called me and informed me of the situation. Well. It was quite a shock to me. A positive one. But still... it's quite surprising.”

He doesn't finish the sentence because his words are interrupted by a rhythmic and loud knocking.

Damn.

***

Several hours have passed since those events at the base. Despite the fact that there are a few hours left until nightfall, you decide to spend the night in a nearby hotel and return on the next day, in the early morning.

You didn't even wait for the two gentlemen who brought you here.

You rent a car and return on your own.

You borrowed cash from the captain. The meeting at the base was supposed to be a secret, between you and him. No sign of your presence near the base. You couldn't use your credit card.

Another fucking lie in your life.

Or maybe everything else was untrue and what was happening now was reality. The truth you couldn't quite believe.

It wasn't just the frayed nerves of the situation that made you not want to drive today.

There was something else.

Today is Thursday. A day when when he had the opportunity, he called. He was close by, at a nearby training ground with recruiters. So you can certainly expect weekly contact.

The very thought turns your stomach. It was so ridiculous, infantile.

Unnecessary.

When 9pm strikes, as usual, evenly, punctually the familiar ringtone echoes.

You wait.

One-

Two-

Three.

“Hi”

You sit upright on the edge of the hotel bed, squeezing your thighs tightly together. You straighten your back unnaturally pulling your shoulder blades as close together as possible.

Finally, you hear his low voice.

“Hi love”

Love? Huh, that's something new.

“Hi”

You repeat the greeting in a trembling voice. Does he already know about your unannounced visit to the base. Does he know that his captain has finally found out. What if-

“I miss you, so bad.”

At these words you close your eyes.

There's nothing to worry about. A standard fake conversation between two spouses. In case of eavesdropping, in any doubt. At the risk of someone continuing to check up on you.

“I miss you, too.”

you answer with a learned line. As you do every time.

“I'm counting down the days until I see you again, love”.

You hate it. You hate hearing his words. You shiver. Swallowing the incoming tears.

You're unable to utter another theatrical phrase.

When a lie repeated so many times has become the truth for you. When pretending became a natural behavior. How it happened, that something inside you changed.

So pathetic, weak creature.

For the first time, you can't follow the script.

“ 'r you still there?”

The question hangs in the void. It reaches your ears. Further learned words, however, are blocked inside you.

You open your eyes and your gaze drifts to the floor, to the hotel's dirty carpet. Seconds pass slowly. Each moment makes you feel more and more miserable. You want to throw up.

“I miss you so much, Simon.”

Shit, you're such an idiot.

You quickly hang up, throwing the phone in the sheets and running to the bathroom.

Falling in love wasn't part of the contract.

***

He shouldn't smoke.

He quit exactly when he met you. That September night.

Now, standing behind one of the barracks leaning against a cold wall, he looks up at the same sky. Looking for what you were looking for then.

The sky is dark and cloudy.

“LT?”

He is pulled from his musings by a whisper. Such a familiar voice.

“Where are ya? Come back here, I'll freeze my balls off, if- ”

“I'm comin' , Johnny.”

Crushing the cigarette butt under his military boot, Ghost takes one last look at the sky.

No star. That night he sees none. There's nothing special.

As he enters the room, the small light of the nightstand illuminates the familiar room. When the door slams behind him, in this safe space, he pulls off his mask and walks over to the bed.

Shaking slightly, Johnny sits down on his bed, rubbing his bare shoulders in an effort to warm himself.

“You quit smokin'. ”

A dry statement, Johnny says the words and looks reproachfully at the man standing over him.

Ghost smirks, reaching out his hand to smooth the sergeant's messy hair. Like a tame wild animal. To calm him down. Meticulously styled mohawk was forgotten an hour or two ago.

His hand travels lower to finally stop on the man's jaw and with little force Ghost squeezes his chin, raising it to look him in the eye.

“Behave, Johnny boy.”

“Or what?”

With a cocky grin Johnny asks. He lifts one hand and sticks his fingers in the belt loop of his pants, pulling Ghost closer, so that he's standing between Johnny's legs.

“I don't think you're ready for a second round.”

Finally Ghost pulls away and heads toward the bathroom.

Johnny grunts back.

“I saw her today.”

Ghost stops in mid-step. He stiffens, but doesn't turn toward the man who already regrets his words. There's no going back.

“I want to finally meet her.”

Saying this, he gets up and walks closer. He puts his hand on Ghost's shoulder trying to calm him down. He knows it's too much. Not after what he heard during their weekly conversation.

But a life of lies was destroying him from the inside. He could feel the rot. The stinking evil he felt at every turn. While waking up and falling asleep. It was constantly accompanying him.

No one deserved such cruelty. If he even had to pay for it with his happiness. He would agree without a second thought.

It had gone too far.

“I want to meet your wife, Simon. She needs to know the truth. About all this.”

About us.

______________________________________________________________

English is not my first language, so probably many things are poorly described and the vocabulary is very simple. If you see any mistakes - let me know!

[asleeponelmstreet]

Burnt (part 2)

Part 1 Part 3

Charlie takes you to a show, and you are confronted by your past.

Tags: Alastor x female reader, Blitzø x female reader, eventual smut, lots of angst, panic attacks, drug use, Charlie and Angel Dust being the best friends a reader could ask for

wc: 3,244

This takes place after S1 of Hazbin Hotel and before Helluva Boss S2 E7 Mammon's Magnificent Musical Mid-Season Special. I don't know if that timeline is canon, but it's what works for my story so that's what I'm doing.

You can also read this on AO3 here if you'd prefer.

Minors DNI!!!

Fuck.

This was not fucking happening.

Your muscles stiffened the moment you stepped outside of the bright pink limousine that took Charlie and you to the show. A tingling sensation crawled up the tips of your fingers as you realized the mistake you had made, not asking the princess who you were seeing in the first place. Now you found yourself facing a grand concert hall adorned with a gigantic banner for the most famous clown in all the seven rings of Hell, the great Fizzarolli.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him plastered on every available surface in the general vicinity. It had been impossible to ignore one of the most well-known faces in Hell, but you did your best to shove down all the emotions that just the mention of his name evoked from you. But here, surrounded by all these pictures of your long-lost friend, it was just too much.

A high-pitched ringing filled your ears, drowning out all the noise of the city as well as your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. After thanking the driver, Charlie grabbed your hand and pulled you towards a side door away from the main entrance. You let her tug you along, not trusting your own feet to carry your weight. You could vaguely hear her say, “Being the princess of Hell comes with some perks” through the buzzing in your ears.

She led you up a small flight of stairs, into an elevator that sped towards the top floor and through a doorway guarded by security and a red velvet rope. The whole time you wracked your brain for a way out, but you came up with nothing. Your mind was about as useless as soup, alphabet soup. The letters only came together to form self-hating words and phrases that were not helpful right now: Idiot. You should have known better. Coward. This is on you. Traitor. It’s all my fault. That last one is the only one not in your own cruel voice.

The room you found yourself in was elegant, almost entirely built of glass walls along with an open front window facing the stage. If you weren’t brimming with dread and starting to feel a bit nauseous, you would be giddy with excitement at the prospect of seeing a live performance from these luxurious box seats, fit for demon royalty. Growing up an imp from a poor family, you never dreamt of being somewhere like this – getting to see how the other half lives.

Velvet couches faced the stage with a few cocktail tables brimming with finger foods interspersed throughout the room. A fully stocked bar took up the back wall, complete with a bartender who didn’t appear to be drinking (or sleeping) on the job. A part of you wished Husk was behind the bar instead to bring some much needed comfort from your new life into this blast from the past. “Soooo what do you think? Isn’t it amazing?!” Charlie asked excitedly, waving her hands around as if she couldn’t keep her happiness to just her beaming smile.

Someone else entered the room before you could answer saving you for a few more moments. You didn’t know how it was possible, but Charlie’s face lit up even more when she saw them. “Uncle Ozzie!” she practically screamed as you turned to face the person who had joined you in what you had thought was a private space. You would have recognized him even if Charlie hadn’t said the name – though, you didn’t know him personally. Asmodeus, the King of Lust.

Your friend did a running jump into his arms, wrapping him in a great big bear hug. He reciprocated the tight embrace, planting a chaste kiss on the top of her blonde head before settling back down on the floor as if she were a child and not the tall, lanky thing before you.

“It’s always a pleasure to receive one of your strangling hugs Charlie.” His voice was as deep and smooth as you imagined the finest bourbon. “I’m so glad you finally made it to one of Fizz’s shows! How’s that dear old dad of yours? Haven’t seen him in quite a while.”

Charlie talked with THE embodiment of Lust as if he was a close family friend, but your mind wouldn’t let go of the familiarity in which he said Fizz’s name. You knew at that moment that the gossip columns you tried your best to avoid were right. Hell’s worst-kept secret was true. The powerful demon had a much more intimate relationship with your old friend than just working together on the popular sexbots made in Fizz’s image.

“Forgive me, I should introduce you two,” Charlie said. At the mention of your name, you thought you saw something — maybe a flicker of recognition in his eyes. You wondered if Fizz told him about you. But you quickly pushed the thought away, not wanting to think of what he would have revealed to the powerful demon now standing before you.

The show was about to begin, and Asmodeus motioned to you two to join him on the couch. You complied, but you were still on edge, trying to decide the best way to get out of this situation without offending Charlie who so sweetly invited you out tonight.

After all these years apart, you were about to see Fizz perform with his secret beau sitting only a princess of Hell away. You tried to ignore him, the way he looked at you as if you were a puzzle to be solved. Looking out into the crowd below was worse. Fans decked in merchandise featuring Fizz’s name and likeness filled the seats. They were screaming his name, cheering him on even before he appeared on stage. Some of the freaks were even debauching their sexbots right there in the crowd.

It was still hard to think of all the freaks who had their hands on him (even robot versions of him) since the last time you touched him. The overt sexualization of Fizz made you feel even sicker than you were before if that was even possible. You had seen it all before, but only in small doses. You even came across several of his robot clones throughout the years but did your best to steer clear of them at all costs. If you ever did, you had to remind yourself repeatedly that it wasn’t him – even if the RoboFizzs looked identical in every way.

But he was everywhere here. His name, his face, his fucking body. His body. Just thinking about what the fire did to his body made bile rise in your throat. And what they did and are probably still doing to his body today. The room started to spin the more you got lost in your thoughts, you gripped the armrests to ground yourself. That’s when you noticed Asmodeus eying your nails digging into the supple velvet.

The curtains parted and his small figure appeared center stage. Your stomach lurched and you felt tears coming. Damn, you’ve already cried so much today. You didn’t think your ego could handle it anymore. But it was too much. His arms and legs stretched out to unnatural lengths as he said something, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your heartbeat and the roaring crowd. That’s it. I’m out of here, you thought. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you ran towards the door cradling your stomach. Charlie jumped up to show you the way, you assumed, but you bolted towards the door before she could catch up to you.

Once you locked yourself in the bathroom stall, you fell forward releasing the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. It burned – probably from the hot sauce – and tears stuck tufts of your hair to your forehead. You tried to pull at your hair to keep it from falling into the bowl as you retched, but it was no use. You were a mess.

The knock at the stall door didn’t startle you. You knew who it was. “You know there’s a private bathroom a bit closer to our seats…” she paused as if reconsidering what to say. “Can I help you?” You gave in because damn you really did need help. You fumbled at the lock on the door until it opened, and she was down on the floor by your side.

“I can hold your hair back for you,” and with that, she took the ribbon from her hair and tied it around your own. Even with it tied back she gently held your hair keeping it from falling over your shoulders as you continued to throw up.

Once your stomach was emptied of everything that you had eaten that day, you lay your head against the wall and let yourself cry. “I’m sorry you’re missing the show,” you choked out.

“Shh, it’s okay. I can come back any time,” she cooed. She took your hands in hers and just held them in silence as you continued your embarrassing meltdown. After a few minutes, she asked, “Do you think it’s something you ate?”

“No—uh, yeah. Maybe?” You said, shaking your head. You just blew your best excuse. Why hadn’t you thought about feigning sickness? Probably because your brain was just about as functioning as that summer when you spent all your earnings on heroin and horse tranquilizers. That would be preferred to how you were feeling right now.

Charlie moved in closer to your side, wrapping your shaking body up in her long limbs and rubbing soothing circles into your sore muscles. “Would it help to talk about it?” she asked. “If you don’t want to, I understand. I can tell you’re holding a lot in. But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

You were so used to holding it all in. Holding it all back. Her comforting presence made you think that if you opened up just a bit, it may provide some relief. But you wouldn’t crack, you knew better. If you told her everything, she would never look at you the same way again. You couldn’t lose her or the hotel. They were the only things that gave your life a purpose anymore. “I’m not ready,” you said. She didn’t frown or let disappointment show on her face, but you imagined that she expected you to open up. She lived for those sappy heart-to-heart conversations that you avoided at all costs.

Charlie sat with you on the floor of the bathroom in silence until you were ready to leave. She explained that she just needed to say goodbye to Asmodeus and then the two of you could go back to the hotel.

Once you were back in the private room, you hung back while she told him you weren’t feeling well. Charlie had done a good job at helping you fix up your makeup and hair in the bathroom, but you knew the demon of lust didn’t have to be very perceptive to know why you had missed the start of the performance.

Before you could escape the door, his eyes locked with yours. His gaze startingly soft. “Charlie has my number if you would ever like to see Fizz. I can speak with him.” He danced around it as if not wanting to reveal anything, but you knew. The fact that he said see and not meet. He knew something and this was an invitation.

The ride back was silent as stared out the back window, thinking about what Asmodeus said the whole way home. What did it mean really? Was there a possibility that Fizz didn’t hate you? Or that he could forgive you? You couldn’t even begin to wrap your mind around it.

You walked into the hotel lobby, expecting to have to make up an excuse for why you were back hours early. Luckily, it was just Husk asleep with a half-empty bottle of liquor behind the bar. Charlie pulled you in for one last hug, reminding you that if you needed anything she would be there before the two of you went your separate ways.

Once you were in the privacy of your room, you slumped on your newly made bed. You didn’t bother to bathe or change before you curled up into a ball. You wouldn’t cry, you couldn’t. You had already shed more tears today than you had in your entire life. More than after the fire. More than when you learned your parents died. More than when Fizz refused to see you. More than when he left.

Sleep didn’t come. No matter how many times you tried to empty your mind of all the thoughts clouding it. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the darkness behind your eyelids gave way to Fizz’s face. Seeing it plastered on every poster in the concert hall and briefly on stage before you made a run for the bathroom brought back so many memories. His little head tossed back in a fit of giggles, that smirk he threw your way amid a round of applause and those wide eyes full of hope before you turned your back on him.

After tossing and turning in bed for over an hour, you gave up. You tiptoed to your dresser where you found your hidden stash in your underwear drawer. Sitting astride the open windowsill that looked out on Pentagram City, you thought about how you found comfort in the place you least expected.

As you exhaled smoke, the tension in your body released a little. A few more inhales silenced your unquiet mind, letting you focus on the better parts of the day. Like Angel rushing to your side in the morning. And how kind it was of Charlie to invite you out in the first place. And was that a compliment you received from Alastor – of all the sinners in Hell? That overlord may have come from Earth, but the stories about his reign of terror preceded him.

A soft knock at your door had you scrambling to put your joint out and hide it along with the rest of your stash behind a curtain. Probably not the smartest move, but you weren’t exactly thinking clearly.

The door creaked open, and the top of Angel’s head peaked into your room, “It’s just me. Don’t worry the fun police is fast asleep.” You sighed in relief. Though you had a feeling Charlie would have been a bit more understanding of your rule-breaking after the day you had. “Is that fuckin’ grass, babe? What are we in the fourth grade?” the spider teased.

“It helps with the nausea… and my nerves,” you said tossing your hair out of your face before relighting what was left of your joint. You motioned for him to join you if he wanted. Though, you had a feeling he would have preferred some of his namesake or at least some Devil’s Dandruff as Charlie liked to call it.

For all that teasing, the porn demon still didn’t refuse a high. Angel joined you on the windowsill and took what was left of the joint you offered him as you lit another. “I saw Charlie earlier,” he said slowly between puffs as if he was trying not to rile a rabid animal. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, some.” You mumbled, perfectly content with smoking in silence but also not hating the company. Angel looked out at the skyline, gazing over all the bright glittering lights from all the buildings filled with sinners who never seemed to sleep.

“Why did you come here?” He asked. “You could’ve gone anywhere in Hell, but you moved to this tacky-ass hotel.” You smiled, knowing it was all a façade. Maybe he crashed at the hotel for a free rent at first but since you’ve gotten to know him, you knew he cared about it, about Charlie and her dream of redeeming sinners. “We don’t even know if sinners can get into Heaven.”

“I know there’s no way for imps to get into Heaven. That’s not why I’m here.” You let out a sigh. “But there are other ways to redeem yourself even if you’re not getting anything out of it.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of redemption?” Your immediate thought was no, but you did technically want redemption for selfish reasons even if they weren’t the same as his.

“I guess, but I’m not trying to get into heaven. I just wanted to help, and I thought it might help me find some relief.”

“Relief from what?”

“All the guilt.” You looked down at your lap, knowing it sounded stupid.

Angel cackled. “What do you have to be guilty of? You’re a fucking demon.”

“Well, I’ve killed more than I can count.”

“Ha! Haven’t we all?”

“True. And I don’t feel guilty for most of it.”

“Then, what is it?”

Although the conversation was getting a bit too serious for your liking, you felt like you owed him some truth. “I hurt the people I love. And even after losing everything, I keep doing it over and over again.”

Angel’s expression grew serious, and he thought for a moment before speaking. “We all do that. It comes with the territory.”

“No, you don’t understand.” You looked away from him. “It’s different.”

“Everyone thinks they’re different, hon. You’re not special.”

“I guess.” You pouted, wanting this conversation to be over. Maybe you could change the subject to something else. “Alastor complimented me today…” You noticed the time on the alarm clock beside your bed. “Or I guess, yesterday.”

“Al complimented you?! Didn’t know he had it in him. Are you sure he wasn’t sizing you up for a meal? What’d he say?”

“He said I looked absolutely divine,” you used your best impression of the radio demon when saying those two words.

“Oh, yeah. He totally wants to eat you.” You giggled, but Angel went on. “And not in a sexy way. I don’t think he’s interested. I would know because he keeps turning me down. Me!”

“Maybe he plays for another team,” you mused.

“Or he doesn’t even play the game at all. Because anyone would be all over this.” He emphasized his point by motioning to his body and doing a slutty little hip thrust that almost shifted him out the window. You grabbed him by the shoulders to make sure he didn’t fall as you tried to contain your laughter.

“You’re right. Anyone who refuses you is out of their mind!” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, don’t mock me. You know it’s true. I’m surprised we haven’t hooked up yet.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I like you too much, Angie. I haven’t had a real friend in a long time, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it.” You also had a feeling he’d much rather be fucking Husk or Al than messing around with you.

“Why would it ruin it?” He leaned into you seductively, close enough that your lips were almost touching. “C’mon, it’d be hot,” he purred.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” you crooned. “Maybe someday, but not today.” You could see it being fun, but that’s all it would be. And although you weren’t a saint, you tried to avoid those kinds of situations now.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, wondering if Angel knew how much you needed this distraction.

Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. I know Alastor isn't in this chapter but he'll be back, I promise. And if you're patiently waiting for Blitzø, don't worry I am too. I had to post this so I would stop worrying about it and finally be able to focus on the next part. It may have a little bit of spice. But shhhh... you didn't hear that from me.

tag list: @sirens-and-moonflowers @whoknowswhoiamtoday y'all literally made my week, thank you <3

[syrupsyche]

Students hunting down the social media of their teachers in the Les Mis Teachers!AU, and finding:

Combeferre's public Instagram, where he posts and IDs all the insects and animals he sees. Sometimes he uploads links to YouTube videos and news articles for his students who are following him to read. He also has a TikTok where he uploads science experiments with Joly.

Courfeyrac’s private Instagram, where he only accepts students if they've long graduated. His IG stories are loud clips of him in the club, so blurry you can't see what's going on. His IG posts are of him with his friends, as well as screenshots of himself roasting stupid people on r/politics.

Feuilly's public Instagram and Twitter, all of which repost or retweet journal publications and news articles written by his friends in the field. Once in a while he posts a piece of woodwork he's made, and Enjolras is always the first to like and comment a 👍.

Enjolras' public Instagram, which has no profile picture, no description, and only the occasional post of current news affairs with a loooong caption sharing his thoughts. One day a student finds his Twitter, which is entirely in Korean, where it's also 90% of him sharing about news that may have gone under the radar (esp. things happening in Korea/Asia in general) and then 10% of him asking the void for dating advice. No one replies to those 💔.

Bahorel's public TikTok, where he has 3 workout videos and 48 duets of him arguing with people on bad history takes. Sometimes he goes on TikTok lives with Grantaire and they talk about bullshit for 3 hours straight.

Jehan's Tumblr, which is solely dedicated to Romantic literature. They invite students to send them asks and they answer them pretty often, usually about book/show recommendations, further readings, and opinions on poets and playwrights. Every so often an anon will send a scathing ask roasting Jehan's taste, and every time it's Bahorel.

Bossuet's private Instagram, where he only allows students who've graduated to follow. Except the app keeps glitching and his students keep getting in, so every day he has to softblock them again. His profile is pretty simple though, just pictures of him and his friends, his food, yearly graduation photos with his students etc. Alas, all of them have EXTREMELY horrendous IG filters on them. He likes it, okay?!

Joly's Twitter, where he retweets mostly cute/funny animal tweets, interspersed with the occasional Twitter thread where he goes on long tangents debunking myths about historical illnesses like the black plague, the cholera epidemic etc. He's currently curating one about COVID in his drafts. It's 80 tweets long.

Grantaire's public Instagram, which has about 1,320 posts because he posts about EVERYTHING. His breakfast, a nice cloud, a store having a clearance sale (in which he will tag his friends and caption "Shall we go?") etc. He treats IG like a group chat with all his 289 followers. A lot of pictures of his friends too. Whenever his students win an award or competition he posts about them as well, just with a huge censor bar to conceal their identity. He uses up all 10 slots for the IG carousel post, with the 10th picture always being a sneaky photo taken of Enjolras that day.

Bonus:

Marius' Twitter, except it took forever to confirm it was Marius because his tweets are in four entirely different languages. The students only figured it out once they saw a Twitter thread where Enjolras and Marius were debating with each other in Korean.

Éponine's TikTok, where it only has one video thus far, and its her sending off Gavroche on his first day of school. She uses her account to roast Combeferre’s and Joly’s science experiments, as well as bully Bahorel and Grantaire on their TikTok lives.

Cosette's public Instagram, which is a pretty popular bullet journaling account. Very aesthetic; students follow her to get some decor inspo and study tips. Her IG stories are pictures with Valjean and Fantine captioned "brunch with my favourite people!! 💫💗" or blurry pictures of Enjolras coming out of his bedroom at 2pm on Saturday captioned "Bigfoot sighting #39"

[dutchdread]

Hi Dutch. Since you have answered many questions about Cloti, what is your thought about Zerith in Rebirth? I saw many people disappointed or having no hope for them but others said the devs are creating angst. Do you agree?

Hi, thanks for the question. Yeah, I understand being disappointed with the Zerith content in Rebirth. The developers spent a lot of time hyping up Zacks importance, not just with Remake but also with developer interviews and such. To have such a build-up and then have him relegated to just a few playable intermissions, to not get a Zack Aerith reunion, and depending on who you listen to to have him being brushed aside in favor of Cloud in regards to Aeriths affections, can understandably feel disheartening.

But really this is just a lack of understanding concerning story structure, to put it simply, Rebirth is EXTREMELY Zerith.

When reading Harry Potter I always knew that Snape was most likely going to end up a good guy, despite the seeming back and forths. And do you know which moment to me proved that he was a good guy? When he killed Dumbledore at the end of book 6. I knew then without a doubt that he was a good guy, because there was still one book to go, and it was obvious that that book would have the final ultimate reversal.

Rebirth didn't have a lot of Zerith pay-off, but if anything that's a good thing. If it did I would be worried about what would happen in part 3 to flip that pay-off on its head. Instead Zerith has gotten a lot of build-up that is now screaming to receive pay-off in part 3.

We have shots of Zack desperately trying to come back to Aerith. We have Aerith admitting she still has feelings for Zack. We have Aerith desperately trying to recreate her time with Zack. We have Tifa and Aerith talking about Zack. We have Aerith sensing Zacks touch in the cave of the GI. We have Aerith singing songs about meeting again. We have Aerith admitting to seeing Zack again in Cloud. We have Aerith instantly going to Zacks parents. We have Cloud talking about how Zack is head over heels for Aerith. We have Zack in Nibelheim talking to Cloud about their respective girlfriends

And the question you need to ask for all these things is "why?" Why would they include all these scenes if it's not getting a pay-off? Why show scenes of Aerith trying and failing to recreate her days with Zack interspersed with scenes of Zack trying to get back to her if that ultimately isn't of importance? Why show Zack positively contrasted with a negatively presented Cloud if the message you're trying to convey is that Zack has been replaced? Why show Zack to be an amazing guy if you want to end his arc with people being ok with him being rejected? Why make a themesong with the desire for meeting again at its core and have Zacks entire story in the game being about trying to reunite with Aerith if the point of that reunion is heartbreak?

The answer is that a writer wouldn't do those things, they make no sense. If you want your love story to feel positive then you need to disassemble the alternatives first. You need to show how the other pairings don't work, minimize their importance, or in some other way make it clear to the audience that the "main couple" coming together is the desirable outcome.

If you want to show that Aerith is getting over Zack you don't spend your limited screentime showing Aerith pining over Zack, you instead show how she's no longer occupying his mind as much. If you want to show Aerith getting over Zack you don't have her talking about still loving him, you instead have her talking about how she DID once, but that that was a long time ago. You don't end her arc with a date that remind the viewer of the existence of Zack, but one that is fully between Cloud and Aerith. If you want to show the compatibility of Cloud and Aerith then you don't make it so that everything goes wrong, you make it so that the dream date goes "DREAMY"!. And if you want to sell the idea that Aerith is over Zack and has come to the conclusion that she truly romantically loves Cloud then you DON'T place that confession right after said horrible date, with Zack scenes left right and center, a Cloud thats talking about you being "nakama", and Aerith dialogue that at best says she's not sure about what she feels, and at worst is a straight up friendzoning. If you want to replace a very positively portrayed romance then you will need the end all be all of chemistry and certainty in the new one, and talks about "well, I like you, but there is liking and then there's liking" is NOT a recipe for that.

In short, if you want to sell the idea that Cloud has truly replaced Zack in Aeriths heart and more importantly IN THE NARRATIVE, then you don't put emphasis on the existence of Aeriths feelings for Zack, and you don't put emphasis on Zacks feelings for Aerith. Those things all serve to maximize the connection between Aerith and Zack when what you need to do if you want to sell Clerith is minimize it. The reason being that this romance is in narrative conflict with the supposed Aerith Cloud romance, and the stronger the Aerith Zack connection is presented, the more extravagant the bond between Cloud and Aerith needs to be written for the story to make sense.

And that won't happen when you have Cloud deriding Aerith for the way she tries turning everything into a date the one moment, and then a scene showing Zack taking care of Aerith while in a coma the next. It doesn't happen when you show a scene of Cloud bonding with Tifa in one scene and almost kissing her, and then show Zack bonding with Aeriths mother in the next. It doesn't happen when you show Aerith failing to recreate her date with Zack and asking Cloud to find her in "her place", and then show Zack waiting for Aerith in "her place" the next.

All these things signal the same thing "Zack good for Aerith, Cloud bad".

You can extrapolate this idea beyond Rebirth of course. If Zack and Aerith isn't getting a pay-off what is the point of re-releasing Crisis Core before Rebirth? If the point is to show that Zack is no longer in the picture what is the point of showing off an entire game all about how important he and Aerith are to each other and about how desperate he is to get back to her? What is the point of showing that the bow Aerith is always wearing was gift from him. What is the point of her always wearing the clothes that she said she'd wear in anticipation of seeing him again. What is the point in bringing up the fact that she wrote Zack 89 letters and has been waiting for him for 5 years if Zack is replaceable in 2 weeks? What is the point of writing that Aeriths one wish is to spend more time with Zack if her literally spending time with a Zack stand-in isn't relevant? What is the point of writing it that Aerith didn't just see Zack in Cloud because they're similar...but because he's LITERALLY putting on a fake persona based on Zack, if Zacks presence in Clouds persona is irrelevant to Aeriths feelings regarding him?

If you want us to believe that Aerith likes Cloud for Cloud then these are all very questionable writing choices, especially when you also keep harping on about her wanting to get to know the real Cloud, which implies that she doesn't know him YET. It's not that you can't still have it so that Aerith does actually prefer Cloud despite all this, but if that's the case then you've failed as a writer because this would be VERY incoherent storytelling. If the writers want you to believe that Aerith has moved on from Zack, then they shouldn't and wouldn't have spend so much time showing Aerith not having moved on from Zack. Ultimately the question is one of focus, a story about Aerith falling in love with Cloud, and a story about moving on from Zack might look superficially similar, and entail the same basic events. But the difference is the focus. Is that focus on Cloud and what he means to Aerith? Or is the focus on Zack? In rebirth there is a heavy focus, not on the developing bond between Cloud and Aerith, those are limited almost exclusively to Tifa, but there is a heavy focus on Aeriths feelings in regards to Zack. There is no storytelling purpose to Aerith telling Cloud she still loves Zack 3/4ths of the way through her story if the focus of the story isn't Aeriths feelings for Zack, but her feelings for Cloud. If the writers wanted you to think Zack doesn't matter they wouldn't spend so much time hammering in the idea that Zack matters. These moments are all in service to Aerith and Zack, not Aerith and Cloud.

Even things like Zack discovering that Aerith has started developing feelings for Cloud only makes sense to include if the pay-off for that is them reuniting and him showing Aerith what love really is. So if we saw in Rebirth wasn't a "lack of Zerith", then what DID we see? Well, to reiterate what I said earlier:

If you want your love story to feel positive then you need to disassemble the alternatives first.

This is what we saw in Rebirth, Cloud and Aerith being disassembled, so that part 3 can get us to the pay-off. We see Cloud and Aerith bonding, yes, but it's ALWAYS contrasted with Tifa and Zack. If we have a scene where Aerith tries to engage Cloud in talks concerning food he will be shown to engage with the same discouraging passivity of the average woman on tinder, then that scene will invariably be followed by a similar scene with Tifa where he is enthusiastically trying to keep the conversation flowing. If we see a scene where Aerith is trying to get a certain energy from Cloud and failing, it won't be long till we see a scene of Zack having that same desired energy naturally.

In short, Rebirth was filled with scenes that "serve a purpose in the overall narrative". But the only way those scenes WOULD serve a purpose in the overall narrative, is if the overall narrative is: "Aerith is trying to get over Zack and is trying to move on through Cloud. But by doing so she discovers that it's just not the same. While Cloud helps Aerith move on and accept the past, he can never replace Zack". If the overall narrative is: "Aerith used to be pining over Zack, but now she has truly replaced Zack in her heart with Cloud and Zack is a relic of the past" then none of these scenes would make sense to include. You can also look at it like this, why didn't Rebirth have a Zerith Reunion scene? Because apparently that's too important of a scene to quickly tack on to the end of part 2. Nomura has already hinted at something very important to include in part 3 that wasn't in part 2, something that he thinks will make people very happy if done right. And I am pretty freaking confident that what he's talking about is the long-awaited Aerith - Zack reunion. And that is why this game is extremely favorable to Zerith, so be excited for part 3.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 4.2

Having Paul talking about following his artistic muse and deciding not to care what other people think paired with the insanity of McCartney 2 is fantastic. 

I sincerely hope those 20K words that Paul wrote for his posterity about his time in jail are published some day. 

He looks so pretty in this interview!

John and Sean are so cute! 

“Nobody Knows” is about secretly hooking up with John, obviously. But “that includes you, honey!” Is that at Linda?? Don't do that to your mother, Paul. 

The only scenario in which I  support a hypothetical JP sexual/romantic relationship in the 70s is that hypothetically no wives were harmed in the making of this hypothetical. 

Not the cut from “Coming Up” to “Probably the thing that John and I will do . . .” to John's self interview about bisexuality and Paul and life begins at forty back to Coming Up interspersed with footage of happy JP to John getting out a guitar to record a demo! 

And the demo is (Just Like) Starting Over. Just bury me already. 

Another lyrical reference I didn't catch in the demo version: “it's easy.” Sung very similarly to how he sang it in All You Need is Love. 

John comparing them to brothers (Everly) and a marriage (Goffin and King) in the same sentence. And he's right, too.

I love the interviewer being so skeptical of John and how dismissive he is of Paul in this interview and how he can't get his story straight on when the last time he'd seen Paul was. More women should've interviewed him.

How I imagine it went. Interviewer: hi John are you ready to -- John: did you know I never think about Paul anymore unless somebody brings him up? Interviewer: but I didn't – John: yeah he used to show up at my door with a guitar and I told him to go away. Interviewer: ooookaaay? 

Cutie! I love John so much.

“If I was dead, they wouldn't be angry with me. If I'd conveniently died in the mid seventies after Rock and Roll album or Walls and Bridges (((everybody loves you when you're six feet in the ground))), they'd all be writing this worshipful stuff about what a great guy.” It hurts to hear and it hurts that he was exactly right. 

I don't care what John and Yoko say, manifesting is just another capitalist lie to keep the proletariat complacent. 

“The only one who can control me is me and that's just barely possible.” It's one of those John quotes that's so silly and cute and also entirely relatable. He really had a way of capturing the human condition. 

“Nobody ever said anything about Paul having a spell over me when I was with him for a long time! Or me having a spell over Paul! They didn't think that was abnormal, two guys together.” Yeah, John, they definitely did and they made fun of it and tried to poke holes in it, or have you forgotten?

“Or four guys together.” Yeah. George and Ringo were in the Beatles too.

“In those days? Why didn't anybody ever say ‘How come those guys don't split up?” You're joking, right John? 

The video/audio pairing here though! You mean ‘what's going on under the table?’

Love John getting pissed that nobody asked him, “What is that Paul and John business?” RIP John, you would've loved Beatles Tumblr.

[lamentus1]

Six reasons to watch Our Flag Means Death

You’ve heard of the dread pirate Blackbeard, but did you know he sailed with Stede Bonnet, aka The Gentleman Pirate? Our Flag Means Death addresses the mystery of why the two should form an alliance and answers it in a surprisingly heartwarming, if not entirely historically accurate, way.

Without wanting to give the game away to those who haven’t watched the first three episodes of season one yet, with the arrival of a certain pirate we see this workplace comedy transform into a love story that explores identity, acceptance, and the search for belonging. Our Flag shows that even unloveable outcasts can find love at any age and that the family we find are the ones worth fighting for.

Here are six reasons why you should watch it (or to help you convince everyone in your life to watch it if they haven’t yet).

1) Our Flag Means Death takes its key themes of love, loss and longing, found family and belonging and sends you on an emotional rollercoaster interspersed with hilarious moments and delightful absurdity. It’s at one moment hilarious, the next tender and thought-provoking.

2) With its racially diverse cast and lgbtq+ representation, Our Flag Means Death showcases and celebrates diversity. It tackles serious issues, such as homophobia, racism, physical disability and mental illness, and handles them with grace, while at the same time managing to be genuinely funny.

3) Thanks to the dedicated creators, fantastic writers, wonderful set and costume design and an outstanding performances from a brilliant ensemble cast who embody their characters, this wonderfully quirky and brilliant show is a joy to watch.

4) Music plays an important role in telling Our Flag Means Death’s story. The show is a musical masterpiece thanks to an exquisite soundtrack that thoughtfully provokes an emotional response to some of the finest music-accompanied scenes in TV history.

5) Our Flag Means Death’s cast, who are made up of some of the best comic actors from around the world, deliver phenomenal performances as relatable characters with idiosyncrasies and imperfections that evolve with the story.

6) But the true magic of Our Flag Means Death comes from the chemistry between the lead characters and their stellar performances. Our Flag Means Death showcases the range of Taika Waitit and Rhys Darby’s talent not only in comedy, but also as dramatic actors.

[xiaq]

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it pt. 13 [now complete!]

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10 Pt. 11 Pt. 12

Good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson.

They just don’t.

His entire life up until the age of 18 has been a series of unfortunate events only rarely interspersed with positive occurrences: Wayne. His guitar. DnD.

So he knows from the beginning of whatever the hell this thing is with Steve, that at some point the other shoe will drop. Because boys like Steve Harrington do not fall in love with boys like Eddie Munson. And if they do, it certainly doesn’t last.

So when, on an otherwise near euphoric Saturday morning, Steve’s parents unexpectedly arrive home, Eddie thinks: this is it; this is where my sudden rash of good luck finally runs out.

Eddie realized early on that Steve’s parents were absent in a way that went past “absent” and veered into the territory of “neglect.” They show up once or twice a month for a few days, but thet’re never present in a way that parents should be for their child. The house is more of an item to check off a list than anything else––a place to call home in between travel, a place to keep the clothes they swap before departing again. Steve tries to play it off like he doesn’t care, like the empty magazine-pretty soulless house is a blessing––and it certainly has been recently considering the prefab walls of Wayne’s trailer do not prioritize privacy. But even if Steve genuinely doesn’t care now, no kid wants to be alone. 

Eddie thinks about a younger version of Steve. Sixteen. Fourteen. Twelve. Coming home to silence. No one asking about his day. Cooking himself dinner. Eating alone.

Steve had mentioned, offhand, that he used to have a nanny before he was too old to need one. Eddie hadn’t asked how old was too old for a caretaker. He was afraid the answer might break his heart. Because Steve tells stories sometimes that he thinks are funny. Stories about leaving the television on at night to trick himself into thinking someone else was there so he wouldn’t have nightmares. Stories about missing the bus and getting sick and learning how to do his laundry. They’re self-deprecating stories. Like it’s his fault he got lost when walking the four miles home from school because he had no one to call to pick him up. Like it’s his fault that his fever got so bad that he ended up sleeping naked on the cool tile of the kitchen floor because there was no Advil in the house and he was too sick to walk to the store. Like it was his fault he used too much detergent because no one had ever taught him otherwise.

Eddie takes those stories and tucks them away and thinks that, at least now, he can ensure Steve has someone. That he’ll never be stranded or sick or confused with no one to call for help again.

They do take  advantage of Steve’s parent’s absence. Eddie and Steve spend most Friday afternoons and weekends there, hosting the kids and their families: Steve cooking or Hopper and Wayne grilling, Eddie mostly getting in the way. And once summer break starts, they take turns staying at each other’s places. A couple days with Wayne, especially if there’s a sports game Steve and Wayne want to watch together, before a couple days at Steve’s house where they can feel free to…engage in their own athletic activities.

So. It’s a Saturday morning. After a slow, sweet, late-night Friday. The kind of Friday Eddie didn’t even know was possible, didn’t know he could hope for, until Steve came along.

They’re both in boxers and nothing else: Steve’s are covered in baseball bats—a gift from Max; Eddie’s are a plaid that is disconcertingly similar to the wallpaper in Steve’s room.

Eddie is sitting on the counter next to the bowl of batter Steve is dipping out of, trying to make pancake shapes and mostly failing. Eddie had done the first batch, which were nearly all dick-shaped, before Steve decided he should take over.

So now there are hearts and lopsided stars on the griddle being carefully monitored by Steve while Eddie has his battle jacket in his lap, finishing the final stitches on the back panel.

And while Steve pokes at the pancakes, Eddie is trying to convince Steve to re-join the basketball team.

This is what love has done to him.

“I don’t understand,” Steve is pouting. “You want me to quit Hellfire?”

“No, I’m saying that we can move Hellfire to a different night next year so you can do your sportsball shit and DnD.”

Eddie, unsurprisingly, is having to retake his senior year. He’s not that upset about it considering that means he’ll be graduating with his boyfriend. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley’s sudden determination that he graduate with good grades is a little concerning, but there are worse things in the world than being cared about by nerds.

“The basketball guys are all assholes,” Steve argues, hands on his hips. He looks like a dad at a soccer game, only more naked. It shouldn’t be hot. But Eddie has resigned himself to the fact that he finds Steve hot at all times, and distressingly so when he’s being bitchy or bossy, which are his default settings. 

“Yeah, but you’re better than most of them,” Eddie points out. “You’d be a shoe-in for captain. And if you aren’t on the team, Lucas said he probably won’t join when he gets to highschool. And,” the most important part, the part that Eddie really has had to come to terms with, “you love it. The way I love DnD. And I want you to do the things you love. Even if they’re with sweaty jocks. Who knows. Maybe you’ll even be a good influence and by the time Lucas gets there only half of them are assholes.”

Steve flips the pancakes. “You’d really move DnD for me?”

He’d do considerably more than that.

“Baby, I may not understand your freakish desire to participate in team sports but I’m not going to begrudge the joy it will bring you.”

Steve grins and it makes him look young. Lighter, somehow.

“What if I make new friends? What if I bring them to DnD? You sure you’re okay with sweaty jocks infiltrating your inner scrotum or whatever.”

“Inner sanctum,” Eddie corrects.

“That’s what I said.”

“It’s really not.”

Eddie is 85% sure Steve is fucking with him. He likes to lean into the dumb meathead stereotype, mostly, Eddie thinks, because people underestimate him, but now with the additional bonus that Steve knows it drives Eddie a little bit crazy. And Steve, for all of his excellent qualities, is a bit of bitch.

“That being said,” Eddie leers, “you can also infiltrate my inner––”

“Okay, okay,” Steve says. He pushes at one of Eddie’s knees so he can step between his legs. So he can drop a kiss to either side of his mouth before pushing further into his space, one hand on the back of his head, holding him steady when he brings their lips together.

“If it means so much to you, I’ll call the coach tomorrow,” Steve murmurs. “Summer training doesn’t start for a few more weeks. Should be plenty of time for me to get back in shape.”

“Ehn,” Eddie manages.

Steve looks pleased with himself when he steps back to the stove, stacking his finished stars and hearts untidily next to Eddie’s dicks.

He ladles out the final batch––circles, clearly their creativity has waned––as Eddie holds up the vest for a critical once-over.

“Done?” Steve asks.

“I think so.” Eddie holds it out accommodatingly. “I need to see it modeled to be certain.”

Steve discards the spatula and turns, feeding his arms through the sleeves. He tugs at the bottom with a considering pout.

“Well, give me a spin, pretty boy,” Eddie says.

Steve spins. He peacocks toward the patio doors and then back in what is probably supposed to be a mimicry of a runway walk but is mostly just ridiculous. He pauses, just before he’s in reach, and pretends to headbang over an air-guitar solo.

“What do you think?” He asks, shoving his hair out of his eyes and somehow managing to keep a straight face, “is it metal enough?”

“Except for the goddamn ABBA pin,” Eddie grouses, like he hadn’t been delighted when Steve gave it to him last week with a shit-eating grin.

Steve sways just close enough that Eddie can reach out and grab the lapels, reeling him back in. “Only one problem, though,” he sighs.

Steve’s expression immediately sobers. “What?”

“It looks too good on you. I might not want it back. Might just want you to wear it forever.”

Steve kisses him. “Joint custody?” He suggests.

“For an only child you are shockingly good at sharing,” Eddie agrees.

And then, the front door opens.

And a woman’s voice calls, “Steve?

And Steve’s hands, cupped around Eddie’s hips, go tight before he releases them and steps back. Away.

“Mom?” He answers, looking lost.

“Steve, honey, come help me with this,” she answers, backgrounded by a jingle of keys and the clack of roller-suitcase wheels.

Eddie slides down off the counter to his feet and then just––stands there. Half-naked and wide-eyed and with a well of despair quickly drowning the quiet happiness that had previously filled his chest. And he thinks: this is it; this is where my sudden rash of good luck finally runs out.

There’s no making it up the stairs without passing through the front room. No way to get to the garage, either. He considers, briefly, just going out the back door, near-nudity be damned, but Steve must clock what he’s thinking and reaches out, grabbing his wrist.

“Did you mean it?” Steve whispers.

Two weeks before, they’d driven out to the quarry, laid a quilt on the hood of the beemer, and shared a smoke and a series of lazy kisses while looking at the stars.

“I don’t mean to be a downer,” Steve had said contemplatively, his fingers moving aimlessly through Eddie’s hair. “But this happy bubble that we’re in isn’t going to last. We should probably talk about what happens when it…” he paused, brow furrowed adorably with the deep concentration of someone stoned. “...pops.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, not following.

“The kids and Hop and Wayne knowing about us and being so cool about it––that’s not how my parents will react, when they find out.”

“When,” Eddie repeated.

“They will,” Steve had said, half resigned, half something else. He says it with confidence, maybe. Or maybe even pride. “Because if we keep spending all this time together one of the neighbors will mention it to my mom, or someone will see us too close in the grocery store and tell my Dad. Or they’ll show up unannounced one day to find us skinny dipping in the pool. And I’m not going to stop spending time with you, so. It’ll happen.”

“Okay,” Eddie repeated, understanding.

“So when that happens,” Steve said, “do you want me to deny it? And we start being more careful. Or do I give them an honest answer and probably get disowned? Frankly I’d rather do the latter but I know the house is a perk. Not just for us but for the kids. For everyone.”

“You think your parents might get violent?” Eddie asked.

Steve’s fingers went still in his hair. “My dad, maybe. I can handle him, though. If I have to.”

Eddie hated the look on his face. 

“You’d be willing to give up the house and the money and everything?”

“Money won’t be an issue. The car’s title is in my name and I’ve been building a nice cushion in my savings account. Not planning to be cut off or anything but…”

“Just in case,” Eddie supplied.

“Just in case,” Steve agreed. “The problem is that it could cause a lot of trouble for you. And I’m not eighteen yet in this timeline, so getting an apartment or something would be––”

“I love trouble,” Eddie interrupted, crossing his fingers and holding them up, “Trouble and I are like this. And obviously you’d move in with us until the end of the school year. Of course you’d move in with us. We’ve got two bedrooms in the new place and Wayne thinks the sun shines out your ass and he doesn’t try to make me watch sports with him anymore when you’re around. You might have to cut down your hair routine in the mornings, though, if we’re all sharing a bathroom on school days.”

Steve had laughed and kissed him, which was the response Eddie was angling for, and they’d settled back to continue their star gazing and Eddie hadn’t thought about it much since except for occasionally at night, on the rare nights when he wasn’t with Steve. And even then he only thought about it abstractly. Living together for real. Waking up together every morning. Making breakfast. Getting to touch Steve whenever the whim hit him. It’s too soon. And they’re too young. And it would be a huge inconvenience at best and actively dangerous at worst if other people like his parents were to find out. 

But they’re careful when they’re in public. And Steve’s folks are never there and Eddie hadn’t thought––well he hadn’t been certain how serious Steve was, anyway, when they’d had that conversation.

Now, standing in the kitchen, listening to Steve’s mom enter the house, he can’t reconcile the question Steve’s now asking with the reality of the situation. Standing in the Harrington kitchen at the six-burner stove, surrounded by top-of-the-line appliances, while the water from the pool outside reflects sun through the double glass patio doors. No way Steve would give up all of this for––

“Eddie,” Steve whispers urgently.

“Yeah,” Eddie exhales. “I meant it.” He did. He does.

“Then call Hopper,” he says lowly. “Get him over here. Just in case”

And then he’s walking confidently into the front room.

Eddie reaches for the phone.

“What,” Hopper snarls after the third ring. “It’s my day off.”

“It’s Eddie,” Eddie whispers. “Steve’s parents got back early and––”

Hopper's voice abruptly loses its sleepy fuzziness. “Are you safe?”

“They haven’t seen me yet. But they’re going to. And it’s––they’ll know. And Steve isn’t going to deny it.”

“Five minutes.”

“Thanks, Hop.”

He hangs up the phone and, with one last, reluctant, look at the back porch doors, he walks around the corner into the front room.

Steve’s dad, wrestling a bag over the threshold, glances up at his entrance and goes still.

Steve, helping his mom collapse the handle of her suitcase, carefully moves to place himself between his father and Eddie.

Suddenly, all the little noises from before stop. Eddie watches as Robert Harrington’s attention moves from Steve’s inarguably defensive stance, to Eddie and Steve’s combined lack of clothing, to the riot of Steve’s hair and the red of his lips. From the tattoos on Eddie’s arms and his ribs to the mouth-shaped bruises that sit like a possessive necklace at the base of his throat. His gaze moves back to linger on the vest Steve is still wearing.

“Steven,” his father says.

“Dad,” Steve answers levelly. “I didn’t expect you for two more days.”

“Clearly. What’s happening here?”

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” Steve says. “Because once I say it, I can’t take it back. Once I say it, we can’t pretend anymore.”

“Pretend,” his mother starts with a flighty little laugh. “I don’t understand.”

Steve is still looking at his dad. 

“Steven,” Robert Harrington says.

“Ok, then,” Steve says. His voice is low and firm and devastatingly certain. “This is Eddie. My boyfriend.”

Steve’s mother sits, abruptly, on the couch, still clinging to her luggage.

“No,” Robert Harrington says.

Steve laughs, a huff of a thing with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving shake of his head. “I did give you the option of ignorance,” he says. “You didn’t take it.”

He glances behind him, meets Eddie's eyes with a crooked, if sad, grin, and nods toward the stairs. “You wanna grab your stuff? I think we’re probably going to be kicked out here in a minute.”

Eddie does not want to leave Steve alone, but Eddie also does not want to be nearly naked under the baleful gaze of Robert Harrington anymore. He gives Steve a look that is meant to convey ‘yell if you need me,’ and he goes upstairs.

It takes less than a minute for him to pull on his clothes from the night before and he laces his boots on the landing at the top of the stairs, ears straining to overhear the muffled conversation occuring downstairs. There’s a lot of swearing coming from Steve’s dad and maybe some restrained sobs coming from Steve’s mother but it doesn’t sound like Steve needs help. So Eddie shoves the rest of his stuff from the bathroom counter and the nightstand into his backpack and then pulls open Steve’s top dresser drawer to pick some clothes for him. One of his own shirts is front and center and it’s purely for expediency that he tosses it onto the bed, following it with a pair of jeans, socks, and a jacket.

And then––

Then he goes downstairs.

The voices are getting louder, not just due to proximity.

Eddie pauses, just for a moment as he descends the last few steps, assessing the situation. Steve’s dad is in Steve’s face, hissing something about disgust and embarrassment and Steve’s mother is crying about knowing they were leaving him alone too much which Eddie thinks is rich. He might be shit at school but even he knows that correlation doesn't equal causation. If neglectful parents were the only requirement for homosexuality, gay marriage would probably be legal and politicians opposing it would only have themselves to blame.

“I can make you a list of house stuff you’ll need to deal with,” Steve is saying with an aloofness that has to come from the few extra years he’s lived, tucked secretly behind his too-young face. “You’ll need to hire a pool company and lawn service, to start. And there’s a guy who’s coming to look at the gutters next Tuesday, so you’ll need to reschedule that since I’m assuming you aren’t staying that long.”

Eddie goes to the kitchen. He turns off the stove, bins the final, now blackened, batch of pancakes and loads up the rest––dicks, stars, hearts––into a tupperware. He tucks that into his bag, has a brief argument with the zipper, and then returns to the sitting room.

“The only place you’re going,” Steve’s father is snarling, “is someplace they can fix this.”

“That’s not one of the options I gave you,” Steve says patiently. “Either you let me stay and you get to keep pretending I’m whatever you want me to be, or I move out and I make it clear to anyone who asks that I don’t consider myself a Harrington anymore. Your choice.”

“There’s a place in California,” Steve’s dad says. “Harriet, where was it that Marge sent her son?”

Steve’s mom just continues to clutch her luggage and sob.

“We’ll sort it out on Monday,” he continues. “You can spend the summer there and be back before your junior year. And you––” he points at Eddie, you will leave and you will not associate with my son anymore. God knows what you’ve put in his head––”

“Senior year, dad,” Steve sighs. “I just finished my junior year. And I was the one that seduced Eddie. If that matters to you.”

“It’s true,” Eddie says, summoning a brashness he does not at all feel. “I was there.”

“Harriet,” Robert shouts. “Stop crying and go find the number of that place in California.”

“No point,” Steve says evenly. “I already said I won’t go.”

“You’re my son. You’ll do whatever the hell I tell you to do.”

“No,” Steve repeats, like he’s talking to an obstinate child. “I’m not. And I won’t.”

“Yes you fucking will, or––”

The doorbell rings.

Everyone goes still for several seconds until it rings a second time, accompanied by a brusque knock. Steve’s dad mutters a string of expletives under his breath and goes to answer it.

It’s only when Eddie hears Hopper's voice saying, “Robert, I didn’t know you were in town,” that Eddie finally feels like he can take a full breath.

He thinks, absently, that his intense relief at the arrival of the chief of police is more than a little hilarious, considering the same chief of police has arrested him on more than one occasion. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though.

“We just got back,” Steve’s dad says. He’s only cracked the door enough to speak to Hopper, trying to shield Steve and Eddie from view.

“That’d explain it, then,” Hopper says. “The boys invited me over for some breakfast before we go on our weekend fishing trip.” He raises his voice, “Pancakes or waffles this morning, boys?”

“Pancakes,” Steve calls. 

“Fishing trip,” Robert Harrington says.

“A-yup,” Hopper says, hooking one thumb in his belt. “Steve said he was interested in learning and obviously Eddie volunteered to join.”

“Obviously,” Robert Harrington says. 

“Joined at the hip, those two,” Hopper continues. “Nice to see.”

“Is it.”

“Anyhow, are they about ready?”

“We need to finish packing a few things up,” Steve calls. “You want to come in and help? I don’t know what pants would be best.”

Hopper steps forward and Steve’s dad grudgingly opens the door enough to admit him.

“Good grief,” Hop says, taking in Steve’s appearance. “I should have known you wouldn’t be ready on time.” He casts a critical eye over Eddie. “At least you’re dressed. Come on, you two, let's go. We’re burning daylight.”

***

Twenty minutes later, they pull up in front of the trailer and Hopper parks his truck with two suitcases of Steve’s stuff in the bed next to Steve’s beemer. 

Before Eddie can get out of the car, before Hopper can even get the tailgate down on the truck, Steve is hugging Hopper with nearly the same desperation that he hugged Robin in the hallway all those months before.

He’d been so calm at his house, methodical as he packed his bags, reserved but steady as he drove them back to the park.

But now he’s got his arms wrapped around Hopper, hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, head ducked, just enough, so Hopper can tuck Steve under his chin and hold him back. Now, he’s––he looks like a kid whose parents just confirmed their love had limits.

And Eddie aches for him.

He can’t help but think about Wayne’s careful, leading, assertions. His stories about his gay friend in Indy. His belief that people ought to live and let live. His enjoyment of queer musical artists and his constant, constant reminders that he would love Eddie no matter what. That his love was not transactional or conditional and that even if Eddie said he didn’t want it, he’d always have it. No matter what.

Eddie wishes, so much, that Steve had a Wayne.

Then again, he thinks, watching Hopper’s mouth move against Steve’s year, watching him holding Steve back just as tight, if Wayne has taught Eddie anything it’s that you get to choose your family, if you want. You’re not stuck with the ones you’re given. 

Wayne comes out the door, looking confused, and Steve wrenches himself away, busies himself with pulling out his bags while dragging the back of his arm across his eyes.

Hopper steps up to the porch and has barely said a dozen words to Wayne before Wayne stopping across the yard and pulling Steve into a hug too and––

Oh.

Eddie is going to need a moment.

“Hop,” Wayne says over Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you. For bringing my boys back safe and sound.”

Eddie is not going to cry. He’s not. 

He might. Just a little.

“Sure,” Hopper says. “You let me know if they cause any trouble.”

For once, Eddie is pretty sure the “they” Hop is referring to is not, in fact, Steve and Eddie.

“Will do. You want to stay for breakfast?”

“We brought the pancakes with us,” Steve says wetly.

“I might stay for some pancakes,” Hopper muses. “What kind?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Blueberry. But fair warning, about half of them are dick-shaped.”

Hopper squints at him. “What other shape options are there?”

“Hearts and stars.”

“I’ll take stars,” he says.

“Hearts,” Wayne says.

“Done,” Eddie agrees.

He and Hopper each grab one of Steve’s bags from the truck and Wayne pulls away from Steve only so he can open the door. He keeps a hand on the back of Steve’s neck as he leads them inside and Eddie follows with so much love in his chest that he feels buoyant. 

“We’ll take care of it, kid,” Hopper murmurs behind him. “It’ll be okay.”

And Eddie believes him. 

***

Tag list:

@perfectlysensiblenonsense @stxrcrossed186 @mushie8123 @starlight-archer @estrellami-1 @snowstar2368 @superfanne @starlight-archer @child-of-cthulhu @djohawke @zerokrox-blog @alwayscertainwasteland @brie-luna @sharingisntkaren @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @deadfromtheneckdown @y4r3luv @manda-panda-monium @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlprocastinator100

[mint-yooxgi]

{17} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Seonghwa, Jongho, & Wooyoung)

Words: 13,837

Warnings: Suggestive content, Talks of kinks, violence and blood, injuries, mentions of death and failed suicide attempts. Very angsty the final quarter of the chapter. Someone fucks up, big time. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Surprise!! I had way too much fun writing this. I am very excited about the dragons in this chapter, and I hope you are, too! Finally edited as well! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Mini Masterlist

The soft caress of someone gently running their fingers down your spine pulls you out of your slumber early the next day. A hum escapes you, stretching lightly as you bury your head further into the warm pillow you seem to be resting on. A pillow which chuckles at feeling your arms tighten around it.

“Good morning, Petal,” Yunho places a tender kiss onto the top of your head.

Groggily, you turn your attention to him to see a loving smile already directed your way.

You smile back, curling yourself deeper into him with a content hum, “good morning, Universe.”

The pleased rumble that reverberates beneath your head causes you to chuckle. The way you can still feel his one hand stroking along your spine has a pleasant shiver caressing your form.

Turning your head, you place a kiss against his bare chest, right over his heart. The way you can feel it flutter beneath your touch has a warmth blooming within your veins.

“Did you sleep well?” Yunho’s eyes shine with nothing but adoration for you as you continue to relax in his embrace.

“Very,” you confirm with another soft hum. “You make a great pillow, Yunho.”

The chuckle he releases ends up shaking your entire body. “Always glad to be of service, My Queen.”

And serve you, he did. The rest of that afternoon and evening was spent with him in his room. The two of you talked for hours, interspersed with a few more rounds of tender love making where Yunho held you close, whispering any and all praises that he could into your ears. 

Last night could not have been more perfect, and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“How are you feeling today?” His one hand comes up to cradle the side of your face, guiding your gaze to his own as his eyes search yours.

“I feel great,” you reply earnestly, grin tugging at your lips as your arms tighten around him. Though, in the next second, your brow is furrowing. “A little odd, though. Things seem almost…” you search for the right word, “sharper.”

Yunho chuckles slightly. “Well, you did ingest a little bit of my blood.”

The furrow in your brow deepens until realization is crossing your features.

“Ah,” a slight warmth blossoms on your cheeks as you recall the way you kissed him so passionately with his blood lining his lips, “I guess I did.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, Petal,” he assures you. “There aren’t any negative side effects to ingesting our blood.”

“I remember Hongjoong mentioning some added side effects, but he failed to go into detail,” you nod, recalling the brief conversation you had with him and Wooyoung about ailments at the mall.

“Your senses and reflexes will be heightened for a bit,” he comments. “Though, not for very long, given that you didn’t take much. That’s all you really need to worry about for now.”

“Why not just tell me all the possible side effects now?” You quirk a brow, shifting to rest your chin on his chest to look up at him once more.

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Yunho winks, a knowing grin tugging at his lips.

You pout playfully back at him until he’s pulling you up to his lips for a brief kiss.

“Don’t worry, Petal,” he places a lingering kiss onto the skin of your cheek. “We’ll tell you in due time.”

“That sounds ominous,” you joke, raising a hand to poke at his cheek lightly. He turns his head to playfully try and nip at your finger in the next second. “If regular blood acts as an aphrodisiac for you, then I can only imagine what your blood would do to me.”

“You would be correct in a sense,” he replies, a loving smile painting his features as he takes your hand in his, placing a kiss onto your palm in the next second. “Only if you had no physical injuries to heal first.”

“Ah, so a step-by-step process,” your eyebrows raise in acknowledgment.

“It also depends on how much you ingest at one time,” he adds.

You nod, brow furrowing in thought. “So, who has the strongest blood out of all of you, then?”

“For healing injuries?” Yunho meets your gaze. “Seonghwa, since he’s the eldest. Then, Hongjoong. Then, me, and so on and so forth.”

“So, the older the blood, the stronger it is?” You inquire, eyes shining with that familiar curiosity Yunho has always loved since the first time he saw it.

“Essentially,” he confirms. “Though, Wooyoung’s would be the strongest against poisons. I’m positive his blood holds every antidote in it by now.”

“Make sense,” you nod. “Would yours be the best at healing mental ailments, then?”

“Most likely,” Yunho confirms with a small nod, eyes shining as he looks down at you. “Yes.”

“Huh,” you rest your head back onto his chest, exhaling contently. “Neat.”

A brief moment of silence before another teasing grin is pulling onto your lips.

“You’re sure you’re not vampires?” There’s a light lilt to your voice as you say this, causing Yunho to laugh once more.

“Definitely not, Petal,” he responds, a grin to mirror your own resting on his lips.

“Ah, darn,” you tut, shaking your head. “There go my Dracula fantasies.”

“Oh?” Amusement shines in his eyes. “And just what, prey tell, are those Dracula fantasies of yours, Petal?”

“Nothing I can’t do with you,” you grin mischievously, and the pleased growl you feel vibrate in his chest has you chuckling against him.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’re this okay wth talking about blood.”

“Really?” You shoot him a look. “After I just let you cover me, and I with you, in each other’s blood, you think talking about it is gonna make me squeamish?”

Yunho shrugs exasperatedly, “I don’t know. It could have just been the heat of the moment.”

“I thought it would have been obvious by now, considering yesterday, and the fact that David spilled the beans,” you laugh, meeting his gaze with an overtly fond look in your eyes as you adjust your body slightly so that you’re now laying slightly more on top of him. He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue. “Darling, I do have a blood kink.”

Yunho’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, the tips of his ears turning a bright red as he clears his throat. 

“Oh. Oh, you were serious about that?” His voice is slightly more high pitched than normal.

“Of course,” you snort out a laugh. “It’s every bit as real as my knife kink.”

Yunho’s eyebrows raise significantly, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “What else are you into, Petal?”

You quirk a brow, a smirk to rival his own tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Do you really want to know?” Your voice is but a low drawl, seductive and sultry as you sit up, tossing your one leg over his waist in order for you to straddle him.

Yunho’s eyes flash black, absolutely adoring the sight of your bare form sitting above him like this for the moment. The way your hands rest on his chest, fingers splayed over his skin has his heart thundering, cock twitching just below your ass.

“Yes,” his reply is breathless, desperate as his hands come to rest on your thighs, thumbs stroking slowly over your bare skin. “Please, Petal.”

You trail a nail down his chest, loving the way he shivers beneath your touch.

“All in due time, Yunho,” you smile. “Perhaps when there aren’t seven extra sets of ears eavesdropping on the conversations.”

You hear a thud come from down the hallway, causing you to chuckle.

“Can you blame them, Petal?” Yunho chuckles along with you. “We just want to know more about you. About how best to please you.”

“Well, so far, you’re all doing a wondrous job.” You reply with a small wink.

A brilliant smile stretches across Yunho’s features, heart warming from the praise. He cannot suppress the pleased rumble that escapes him, pulling you down for a kiss in the next moment.

Little do you know of the other bashful smile that paints another male’s features at overhearing your praise.

Breaking from the kiss, you sit back up, thumb gently caressing the side of Yunho’s face as you hold him gently in the palm of your one hand.

“I would rather have that conversation with all of you when the time is right,” you tell him. “Though, I would always tell you if any of you did something that made me uncomfortable. I just hope you all will do the same with me.”

“Of course, Petal,” Yunho readily agrees, not even needing to hear his brother’s confirmations before responding since he knows they all would do the same. In a heartbeat.

“Good,” you smile. In the next second, you’re tilting your head from side to side, a knowing look shining in your eyes. “I suppose I could let you in on a few things, though.”

“Please,” he breathes, eyes desperate as he clings onto your every word, just as he knows his brothers are doing at this very moment.

Staring down at him through hooded eyes, you lick your lips.

“I absolutely live for praise,” you begin, and you notice the way his throat bobs as he swallows. “I also adore when my partner is vocal, which may or may not have something to do with that little voice kink I have. Nothing turns me on more than someone telling me exactly what they want to do to me, and then doing exactly that.”

A pleased rumble builds in his chest as you start to walk your fingers up his torso. Tingles erupt on his skin as he feels your nails grazing over his stomach, then up his chest, before you trail a finger up his neck, tilting his chin upwards as you lean over him.

Yunho’s hands tighten on your thighs, pulling you closer.

Your eyes catch on a faint bite mark still visible on his neck that he has yet to heal. You smirk.

“I do rather enjoy claiming what’s mine,” you hum, the tip of your finger teasingly following the outline of the mark on his neck. “Though, I think that sentiment is shared all around.”

At the way Yunho’s eyes flash black, a pleased snarl escaping him in the next moment, you just know the others listening in react in the exact same way.

“Biting, scratching, licking, sucking,” you list off, “anything to lay claim to mark what’s mine.”

His lips part, breathing coming in jagged pants.

“Of course, that which I enjoy giving, I also enjoy receiving, too.” You meet his gaze, eyes flashing knowingly. “If it’s not mutual, I don’t want it.”

Another pleased growl escapes him, and again, you just know the others have more than likely echoed the sentiment.

“Though, I will never expect more than what any of you are willing to give.”

“The feeling is mutual, Petal,” he replies immediately, hand coming up to caress the side of your face as you lean into his touch.

“I know,” you hum contently, a smile stretching across your features as a brief flash of that conversation with Hongjoong in the garden the other day flits through your mind. “And I will always appreciate you all for it.”

A brief silence settles over the both of you as you continue to stare deeply into each other’s eyes. That is, until Yunho is breaking it once more.

“Is there-” he clears his throat, “is there anything you don’t like that we should be aware of for now.”

You take a moment to consider his words before nodding to yourself. “Degrade me in any way and I will walk right out on you. Other than that, if you’re unsure, just ask. Consent is one of the hottest things you could ever offer to me.”

“On that, I think we’re all agreed,” Yunho nods along with your words. “Consent is as important for us as it is for you.”

You smile down at him, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “One of the many things I love about you.”

The tender love and affection you can see shining within his look of pure adoration makes your heart race. A look of which you know is mirrored on your own face right now.

At the way you notice his eyebrow twitch slightly, you can just tell one of his brothers has told him something. Sure enough, his next words confirm your original thought.

“Hongjoong wants to know what your safe word is.” At the way his eyes widen in amusement, you can tell there was another comment added to that. “Now, he’s cussing me out for singling him out about it because apparently Wooyoung has been asking, too.”

Faintly, you hear a whine of ‘hey’ come from somewhere in the house. 

You chuckle. “Just call them out, why don’t you.”

“I’m just the messenger,” he shrugs, raising his hands mildly in his defence. “Though, I am curious.”

You lean away slightly, sitting up as you contemplate your response.

“To be honest, I’ve never been in a situation that warranted the use of one before,” you blink, shifting through your memories to see if you’ve ever actually had to come up with one. In the next moment, you shake your head slightly to clear your thoughts. “I think the light system should be fine for now. Unless there’s one you all usually use.”

Yunho takes a moment to respond, and you notice how his eyes appear to be looking past you for a moment before shifting to meet your gaze.

“The light system works for us,” he smiles at you. “We’ll let you know if there’s a word we want you to use in advance, though. If and when the time comes.”

“I appreciate it,” you smile back, going to move off of him in the next second. You stretch your neck and back out slightly, looking around his room in the next instance after hearing a few satisfying pops. It’s then that you realize something. “I need clothes.”

Yunho sits up in bed behind you, his hand grazing over the skin of your bare back. “You can borrow some of mine.”

Your turn your head to glance at him from over your shoulder, an amused look on your features as your brow quirks.

“Just thought I’d offer,” he chuckles, shrugging briefly.

“I would grab some of my own, but seeing as my room is literally across the house,” you begin knowingly. “I’d have to walk there.” You look at Yunho expectantly. “With what I’m wearing right now.” He quirks a brow. “Which is nothing.”

You swear you hear a growl come from down the hall.

“I’ll do it,” your eyebrows are raised dramatically, eyes wide as you continue to meet Yunho’s stare. “I know you’ve all seen me naked before.”

“It’s not a threat if you know we’ll all enjoy it, Petal,” Yunho chuckles knowingly, a sly grin pulling at his features.

“Would someone just please get me some clothes?” You cross your arms over your chest. At the way Yunho doesn’t even bother to move from his spot, you let out an exasperated sigh. 

Grabbing the blanket at the end of his bed, you go to unfold it and wrap it around yourself just as you hear a knock on the door. A second later, a hand is reaching in with a pile of your clothes held in its grasp, before placing said items on top of the wardrobe right beside the door. In the next second, you hear the latch clicking back into place.

“At least one of you is a gentleman,” you snort, shooting a playfully pointed look at Yunho.

“You can’t blame me for wanting to admire you in your raw form for a little while longer, Petal,” he leans onto his side, head being propped up by his hand as his elbow rests on his pillow.

“Now I just think you’re rubbing it in,” you shake your head amusedly, tossing the blanket in your hands at his head as you go to stand from the bed.

You hear him laugh from behind you as you make your way over to your clothes on top of his wardrobe.

“Guilty,” he hums, curling the blanket beneath his arms as he settles back into his bed. Lovingly, he watches you change.

“Perhaps I should start leaving some clothes in all of your rooms so this doesn’t happen again,” you mumble, heading towards the bathroom to freshen up for the day.

Um, hell yes she should, Wooyoung voices, a little too eagerly.

Or, she could, you know, Mingi clears his throat, walk around the house naked.

I’m with Mingi on this one, Yunho hums.

Says the one who’s just spent the last sixteen or so hours with her, probably doing nothing but stare at her raw form, San grumbles, and they just know he’s crossing his arms over his chest.

Are you really complaining about the prospect of possibly seeing her walking around the house naked? Jongho chimes in, amusement clear in his voice.

San is silent for a moment before grumbling out a response. No.

Someone’s just jealous again, Yeosang chuckles.

I’m not jealous! San is quick to retort.

Denial. Yunho, Jongho, Mingi, and Yeosang all reply at the same time.

Yeah, yeah, he’s not the only one in the same boat, Hongjoong replies, exasperatedly.

On the plus side, she’s opening up to all of us more. Jongho observes, flipping the page of his book that he’s currently reading, mind swirling with everything he’s just learned from you.

A moment of silence passes over all of them, until Wooyoung is breaking it once more.

So, Yunho… the younger begins, not so slyly.

Nope. The elder male immediately responds, a knowing grin tugging at his features.

He hasn’t even said anything yet! San whines.

If you’re not getting anything out of him, you’re most certainly not getting anything out of me. Yunho chuckles, already reminiscing in the privacy of his own mind all the different ways you sighed his name so sinfully yesterday.

We’ll all know in due time, Jongho says, turning another page of his book.

Patience is a virtue, Mingi singsongs.

Since when have we ever been virtuous? Seonghwa laughs, speaking for the first time in a while.

I don’t know, you tell me, Mister Gentleman. Wooyoung teases, drawling out the name pointedly.

We all know you’re the most eager to see her walking around the house in the nude. Jongho adds, pointedly.

Unlike some, I am more than happy to provide for her whatever she may need, whenever she wants it. Seonghwa retorts.

Translation: our eldest here would have busted a heavy nut if she walked out without wearing clothes. Wooyoung cackles, along with both San and Mingi.

Like you wouldn’t have been drooling with your jaw on the ground if you saw her walking around in the nude. Yeosang rolls his eyes.

At least I’m honest about it. Wooyoung replies.

No one would blame either of you for your reactions. Hongjoong voices, finally finishing getting ready for the day in his own room.

Speaking of, how are you doing, Captain? There’s a teasing lilt to Mingi’s voice. Confirmed blood and knife kink.

I’m surprised he didn’t need to take another shower to cool off. San mutters, a chuckle to his words.

It’s not as shocking when you already know the truth, Hongjoong hums. Though, it is still pleasant, all the while.

You’re all just unobservant, Wooyoung adds with a hum.

Then, what else have you so keenly observed, Woo? San inquires, much to the other’s pleasure.

Of course, all of them want to know what their very own master of seduction has deduced from your every little intricacy.

All in due time, brother, Wooyoung grins, much to their annoyance. I’m sure she’ll confirm everything I’ve learned of her. Much sooner than you may think.

A soft smile rests on Yunho’s face as he continues listening to his brothers bicker about things in his mind. His eyes trail lightly after your form once you’ve returned from the bathroom, watching as you walk over to give him a tender kiss on the forehead before moving to exit his room for the day.

Opening the door, you step into the hall. Softly, you make sure the latch clicks behind you before making your way downstairs.

A gentle mewl catches your attention just as you reach the top of the stairs.

“Well, good morning to you, too, my little Doritos,” you chuckle, noticing how Kuroo looks up at you with wide eyes from the bottom of the stairs as you descend them. “Are you waiting for me? Oh, how sweet are you?”

You continue to coo at him, crouching down to scratch his head once you reach him.

“Come on, Little One,” you smile, beginning to walk towards the kitchen. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

He mewls in response.

“I know! I’m hungry, too,” you reply, smile on your face as he trots alongside you. In the next second, he’s pawing at your leg, causing you to halt in your tracks. “Oh, do you want to be held? Silly me.”

Reaching down, you’re quick to scoop Kuroo into your arms. Immediately, he starts purring, rubbing his face all over your neck and jaw.

You giggle, scratching at his chin as he curls into your arms. “Come on, handsome, let’s go get some food.”

Rounding the corner, you see a familiar head of soft pink hair sitting at the kitchen counter.

A light, slight overdramatic gasp escapes your lips. “Another handsome boy!”

Said man turns towards you, eyes wide as he meets your gaze. Already, you’ve crossed over halfway into the kitchen.

A small chuckle escapes you as you take in his dishevelled hair, the slight waves making it look like he has small cat ears of his own. You smile.

“Good morning, Hwa,” stepping in beside him, you place a gentle kiss onto his cheek.

A subtle blush begins to creep up his neck as he smiles softly, “good morning, My Divine.”

Walking further into the kitchen, you go to pull the fridge open. Only, you’re finding it a little difficult to hold onto Kuroo while riffling through the shelves.

“Okay, Doritos, I’ve got to put you down for a second,” you turn your attention to Kuroo who blinks at you with wide eyes. “I know, but I can’t hold onto you forever.”

A snort of laughter comes from Seonghwa, causing you to turn and quirk a brow at the eldest.

“What’s so funny?” You grin along with him.

“He’s saying that, yes, you can hold onto him forever.” Seonghwa chuckles, a fond look shining in his eyes as he watches you turn your shocked look to Kuroo.

“Well, someone’s being a little spicy Doritos today, huh, Tetsurou?” You shake your head, placing him onto the floor.

A loud complaint from him is all you receive in response before he’s trotting around the island and out of the kitchen.

Your mouth parts in shock, an appalled expression taking over your features before you’re shaking your head in the next moment. “What a sassy boy.”

Another chuckle escapes the eldest as the corner of his lips quirk upwards.

Turning your attention back to the fridge, you pull out an apple. Closing the door, you’re quick to wash the fruit off and grab a knife from the drawer. In the next moment, you’re walking back to the other side, pulling out a stool, and sitting directly beside Seonghwa.

“So, Doritos?” He chuckles. “Another nickname we should add to the list?”

“Of the many I have, yes,” you grin softly, cutting into the apple.

“Why Doritos?” There’s a slight quirk to his brow as he observes you closely.

The knife pauses halfway through the apple momentarily before you continue on like nothing happened. “Does there have to be a reason behind a nickname?”

“Not necessarily,” he hums. “I’m just curious why you decided to call him that of all things.”

You settle one half of the apple onto the napkin you have in front of you before shooting him a side eyed glance. Your brow quirks. “Are you sure you really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t be asking, otherwise,” he replies, a knowing quirk to his own brow.

“Okay,” you hum, clearly amused, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He remains silent, patiently waiting for you to continue.

“Well, he’s named after one of my favourite Haikyuu characters, so all the nicknames I have for him I shall subsequently give to this cat.” You explain, and you notice his eyebrow twitch.

“That still doesn’t explain why you call him Doritos,” he grumbles.

“Tell me, Hwa,” you chuckle, grabbing the other half of the apple you still need to cut up into your hands. “What shape are Doritos?”

“A triangle,” he replies almost immediately. “Though, I fail to see why this is of relevance.”

“Surely you’ve heard reference to someone having triangle proportions before, no?” You quirk a brow knowingly at him, your knife slowly slicing through the apple.

At the low growl that rumbles through his chest, you know he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“You like him because he’s shaped like a triangle?” The disbelief that coats his voice has a laugh falling from your lips.

“Broad shoulders, firm waist,” you nod, seemingly zoning out as your eyes glaze over. “Mmmh, Kuroo.”

“Don’t forget the thighs!” A voice from the open doorway catches your attention, and you turn your head to see Wooyoung leaning against the frame, Jongho right behind him.

You raise an apple slice towards him in acknowledgement, “but of course. He’s got some nice ass thighs.”

All three men let out low growls as the two youngest enter the room.

“You brought it up,” you shoot a pointed look at Wooyoung before popping an apple slice into your mouth.

“We don’t do well with you praising other men, Darling,” Jongho says, pulling out the stool beside you and taking a seat as Wooyoung comes to stand on the opposite side of the counter.

“I am simply answering an innocent inquiry,” you reply, biting into another slice. “Not my fault you’re all jealous of lines drawn on a page.”

“They are still lines you enjoy, though,” Seonghwa grumbles, a small pout tugging at his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, yeah,” you shrug, tilting your head in acknowledgement, “but I think you’re forgetting one thing.”

“And what would that be, Gorgeous?” Wooyoung quirks a brow at you, a slight upturn to his lips knowingly.

“I much prefer eight real, handsome men instead,” you grin, noticing how the two males on either side of you sit up a little straighter. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear they’re all slightly puffing their chests out now.

Jongho takes this opportunity to casually slide his arm across the back of your seat, much to the eldest’s annoyance. Of which, you notice.

In the silence that settles over the four of you, you’re quick to raise a piece of apple to Seonghwa’s pouting lips. Happily, he accepts, smile tugging onto his features as he munches away, much to the other’s annoyance now.

Shifting your gaze to the male beside you, you notice how Jongho now wears a pout on his lips. So, doing the exact same, you raise an apple slice to his mouth, chuckling as he greedily devours the piece you offer him.

Locking gazes with the male across from you, you see Wooyoung wearing the biggest pout of all. You chuckle, motioning him closer with your finger.

Eagerly, Wooyoung leans over the counter as you feed him a slice of your apple, his eyes shining as he swallows the piece.

“So, you guys have another council tonight?” You ask, popping another slice into your own mouth.

“Unfortunately,” Jongho sighs.

“Will I get to see the return of those wondrous outfits again?” You quirk your brow, lips tugging upwards into a smirk.

“Perhaps,” Wooyoung grins deviously, leaning forward against the counter once more as you feed him another slice of apple.

You continue to rotate who you’re feeding slices to until you run out, and at that point, Wooyoung wordlessly grabs another from the fridge. After washing it off, he hands it to you expectantly. Without another thought, you begin cutting into it.

“We have plenty more where that came from, Darling,” Jongho leans in to whisper into your ear.

A pleasant shiver caresses your spine as the knife freezes momentarily in your hands. Turning your head, you look at him through hooded eyes. “Don’t tease me like that, Darling.”

The way you can see how your words affect all of them has you smirking in response.

“I’ve always admired those types of outfits on anyone,” you admit as you continue to cut into the apple. “Makes me go feral.”

Three low growls of approval echo around the room.

“What else do you like, My Divine?” Seonghwa’s voice is but a low drawl right by your ear.

“There’s just something about a nice jacket that does things for me,” you say, emphasizing your words slightly with your hands. “Any type of jacket, but especially patterned ones. Nice patterns, not anything too extrinsic. That, and certain styles of military cut jackets just-“ you let out a wisp of air, closing your eyes for a brief moment as you hum to yourself, “wow.”

Your eyes flash open, “embroidered jackets. Fuck me-“ a pleasant shiver caresses your spine once more. “Embroidered suits.”

“Do you-“ Seonghwa clears his throat, shifting slightly in his seat as he attempts to control his breathing for the time being, “do you have any examples?”

“Plenty,” you breathe. “Though, I don’t know how many you’re going to like.”

“We don’t care, we just want to know,” Wooyoung replies, chest practically heaving as he stares at you with a dark gaze.

You meet his eyes, a quirk to your one brow.

“Well, for starters, Taemin’s military style jacket during his Want era was exceptionally fine,” you say, and you notice the way his jaw twitches across from you. “Haechan’s leather jacket from the Simon Says dance practice is really nice. Then there’s also the detail work on the entire group’s jackets in both Kick It era and Favourite era.” You pause for a moment, as your eyes glaze over, picturing the designs now. “Mmmh, Favourite era.”

“Favourite?” Jongho tilts his head slightly in inquiry.

“Vampires,” you nod, a blissed out smile tugging at your features. “Though, it wasn’t by much. The song was just called Favourite, then in brackets, Vampire, which was completely pointless.”

“You really have a thing for vampires, huh?” Wooyoung grins, knowingly. However, at the way you ignore him, he pouts.

“Though I suppose those could be counted as military style jackets given their shape,” you hum, more to yourself at this point. “Still, the detail work is incredible.”

“Detail work?” Seonghwa quirks a brow.

“Black jackets with gold embroidery,” you nod, almost to yourself. “Oh, they were so nice. Not to mention the Kick It bombers with the golden dragons on the shoulders. One was purple, and the other black. They mainly wore them for the live stages, though.”

“You seem to know a lot about this group’s stage outfits,” Wooyoung mumbles, sharing a look with his two brothers.

“When they’re styled nicely, and to my liking,” you raise another apple slice to your lips, “yeah. I do.”

“Okay, then what about patterned jackets and suits?” Jongho draws your attention back to him for the moment.

“John Boyega and Michael B. Jordan wear some fine ass patterned suits,” you state. “Jooheon of Monsta X wears a really nice patterned one in their Beautiful music video, too.”

Then, you’re blinking, seemingly lost in your thoughts.

“Where’d you go, Gorgeous?” Wooyoung chuckles, but the smile he wears is tight.

“Sorry, I just remembered Janelle Monae in a pantsuit and I got distracted,” you shake your head, hoping to clear your thoughts. Only, it doesn’t work, and now you’re thinking about one very beautiful, very powerful Fullmetal Alchemist character that you absolutely adore. One Major General Olivier Armstrong. “Oh no.”

Resting an elbow on the counter in front of you, you raise a fist and press it to your lips. Your eyes close, attempting to reign in your thoughts for the moment.

“What, oh no?” Wooyoung repeats your words, slight worry shining on his, as well as his brother’s features.

“Not good,” you mumble against the skin of your closed fist, eye shining as your mind decides to now start flashing through a majority of your favourite fictional characters.

None of them are the wiser, given that your void is still up for the moment. A fact which calms you at least somewhat.

Shifting your position, you rub at your warm cheeks, grounding yourself for the time being.

“Sorry, distracted,” you shake your head. “What were we talking about again?”

“Embroidered suits you enjoy,” Seonghwa fills in for you, an eager look to his eyes now that he has some ideas of clothing styles that you like.

“Ah, right,” you clear your throat. “There’s really only one more that comes to mind, but I don’t think you’re all going to like it all that much.”

“Why wouldn’t we like it?” Jongho quirks a brow at you slightly.

You smile tensely, turning your head to look at him. “Gee, I wonder why.”

“As someone who works with clothes, I am very interested to know,” Seonghwa leans in closer to you, and you turn around to meet his gaze.

“Oh, the suit I have no problem telling you about. It’s the context and the guy wearing the suit you’re not going to like.” You say, popping another slice of apple into your mouth.

“Try us,” Wooyoung leans back against the cabinets, crossing his arms over his chest as he meets your gaze.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” you hum, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

In the blink of an eye, you’ve opened up your void to them, and they are privy to the image of a male walking out of a room in a golden embroidered suit. His dark hair is slicked back, save for one small piece that dangles over his forehead. He appears to look down at his shoes before lifting his gaze with a smirk. The worst part, he’s not wearing a shirt beneath his suit jacket.

Immediately, snarls are tugging at their lips.

“Jaehyun,” Jongho growls, grip tightening on the back of your chair.

“I told you that you weren’t going to like it,” you giggle, patting his knee from beneath the counter. “The whole fandom went feral for him when he popped out in that during the Kick It video.”

“Did you?” Seonghwa’s jaw is tense as you turn to look at him.

“Perhaps,” you reply after only a moment’s hesitation. “I mean, he looked great in the suit.”

Three more snarls echo around the room.

“You wanted to know,” you reply, tossing another piece of apple into your mouth. “I told you, I like nice jackets.”

“Duly noted, Darling,” Jongho shares a look with the eldest from over your shoulder.

“How much time is there until your council?” You’re quick to change the subject, looking around at all three of them briefly.

“We’ve got at least several hours before it starts,” Wooyoung answers for you.

“Great,” you smile. “I want to go out.”

“Where would you like to go, Darling?” Jongho asks before either of his two other brothers are able to, or protest for that matter.

As long as one of them is with you at all times, you should be fine.

“I don’t care, but I’d just like to get out of the house for a bit,” you say, pushing your stool back from the counter, and standing to your feet.

The three males blink at each other for a moment before a thought crosses the eldest’s mind. After all, you did mention them earlier, and they did promise to take you to see them at some point.

Before either of the two youngest have a chance to speak, Seonghwa’s voice draws your attention to him once more. “I’ll take you to meet the dragons.”

Immediately, your eyes are widening, excitement pouring off of you in waves. “You’re serious?”

Seonghwa shoots a pointed look towards the other two as you begin shaking from your emotions. “Of course, My Divine. I will take you to see them.”

Only, it seems as if Wooyoung has other plans.

“Great,” a knowing grin stretches across his features, “when are we leaving?”

Seonghwa’s eyes flash at his brother, not that you notice. You’re too busy scurrying around the counter to clean up your mess, muttering about dragons under your breath for the moment.

“We,” he stands, pulling you into his side as you come back around the counter, your whole body practically vibrating in excitement, and causing a pleased rumble to build in his chest, “will be leaving once she is ready to.”

“We’ll meet you at the front, then,” Jongho smirks, a not so innocent pull to his lips as they see you nodding along almost absentmindedly to his words.

Within the blink of an eye, the two youngest have disappeared, leaving you standing in Seonghwa’s arms. Only, in the next moment, you’re stepping out of his grip, practically chanting the word ‘dragons’ over and over again as you begin to waddle excitedly out of the kitchen.

“Dragons, dragons, dragons!” You giggle lowly. “Jacket first, then dragons, dragons, dragons.”

Following you with a loving gaze, Seonghwa cannot help but get caught up in your excitement. The way you seem to be lost in your own little world due to the emotions swirling within you for the moment has a chuckle escaping him. At least it gives him enough time to grab his own jacket, fixing his hair slightly in the process.

Two minutes later, and you’re standing in the foyer with all three of them, wiggling in your spot as anticipation claws at your chest.

“We’re glad to see you so excited, Gorgeous,” Wooyoung grins widely, going to step in beside you until the eldest beats him to it. Then, a small pout is forming on the younger’s lips, cussing out the pink haired male for ruining what would have been a tender moment shared with you.

Oh, cry me a river. Seonghwa nearly rolls his eyes. You two intruded on our day together.

Last I checked, brother, you hadn’t made any plans with her. Jongho is the one to retort, eyes narrowing at the eldest across from him.

Doesn’t mean you can just tag along. Seonghwa shoots a pointed look back, wrapping his arm around your waist in the next second.

This time when they transport you, you don’t even stumble. A fact which has a small pride swelling in your chest for the moment as you take in your surroundings.

Large trees surround you on either side, foliage covering nearly every free inch that you can see in every direction. The scent of the deep woods invades your nostrils, and you notice how damp it is. The soft sound of rain hitting leaves reaches your ears.

“Come on, it’s a little further up,” Seonghwa’s touch is gentle as he places his hand on your lower back to help guide you through the woods.

A brief silence settles over the four of you as you travel through the trees, the only sound being that of the rain surrounding you. A few drops hit you every now and then, but you don’t even flinch, too giddy for the moment to even notice.

“So, how long have you known these dragons?” You inquire after a few minutes, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Quite a few centuries, at the very least,” Jongho replies, offering you his hand as you climb over a fallen log. “Though, we’ve known Wyno the longest.”

“She’s what you would consider the leader of all dragons. The alpha, if you will.” Wooyoung explains, a small smile on his face as he sees your eyes light up.

“Oh, she sounds delightful!” You grin. “We love to see powerful women in positions of power. I bet she’s a total badass, too.”

They all chuckle fondly at your words, noting the edge of the mountain getting closer and closer.

“What kind of dragon is she?” Your voice holds nothing but curiosity as you break the tree line, the rain dripping freely onto your head now.

“You’ll see.” Seonghwa grins, a playful wink being sent your way as he walks up to the side of the mountain.

You blink. “Where…?

At the way Seonghwa points upwards, your mouth is parting in shocked understanding.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was ‘up’ ahead,” you observe, noting the little cliff face that juts out about two hundred metres up the side of the mountain, the tips of the trees just barely reaching the opening.

“This is an ancient forest, with old magic, so we can’t just teleport directly in their front door,” Wooyoung tells you, watching how you nod in understanding. “But we can transport outside of it.”

In the next second, he’s wrapped his arm around your waist, and you find yourself standing on that little cliff face, looking out at the surrounding view. 

A gasp escapes your lips, your breath being stolen right from your lungs as you take in the sight before you. There’s some mist hanging over the surrounding mountains, and lingering on the tops of some of the trees. You can see the faint outlines of water droplets from the rain trickling down and hitting the leaves. A gentle breeze drifts through.

“Wooyoung, you little shit,” Jongho hisses as soon as he’s appearing beside you.

“What? I had to act before one of you did,” Wooyoung giggles, and you find yourself shaking your head in amusement as the two youngest continue to bicker back and forth.

“So, did we just take the scenic route, or…?” You lean slightly towards Seonghwa as he steps in beside you once more.

“Yes, and no,” he chuckles. “Yes, we could have just as easily transported here at first, but that wouldn’t be very considerate of us. Walking to the base gave them time to let them know we were coming.”

“Ah, I see,” you nod in understanding. “So, which one of you almost got their head bit off for simply teleporting here unannounced?”

A deep chuckle sounds from behind you. “I like this one, she’s perceptive.”

Turning around, you are greeted by the most beautiful looking woman you have ever seen in your life. 

Her dark skin glistens beneath the faint water droplets that cling to her form, sliding down like wisps of shadows which stretch on behind her, and lead back into the cave. Around her shoulders is a silk robe of vibrant colours, the patterns contrasting against the darkness of the cave behind her as the tassel loosely holds it closed.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and she smiles, revealing two sets of razor sharp teeth. A forked tongue darts out to scent the air in the next second, her golden eyes zeroing in on you as her pupils narrow into slits.

“You reek of Yunho,” she comments. “And blood.”

You quirk a brow, straightening ever so slightly beneath her scrutinizing gaze.

“If I didn’t, I’d be concerned,” you retort, the faintest of grins pulling at your lips.

Her eyes seem to scan every inch of your bare skin, and you note how her irises seem to trace swirl like patterns over your exposed collarbones. Understanding crosses her features, as she nods once slowly.

“I see you’ve finally found her, then,” she observes, golden eyes briefly darting to the three males around you. You blink in mild confusion before her gaze is piercing your own once more. “She may only be human right now, but she’ll make a fitting Queen.”

An intense heat blooms in your cheeks as you take in her words.

“Thank you,” you bow to her. “Uh, I beg your pardon, Your Greatness- Most Beautiful, uh, Miss Alpha, I mean, I’m assuming you’re the Alpha. Though, I supposed I shouldn’t assume, that’s rude of me-“

“My Child,” she chuckles, figure suddenly in front of you as she places her hands on the side of your arms to calm you down. “Take a breath. You are okay.”

You do exactly as she says, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be shallow or too forward, I was just distracted by your beauty,” you seem to finally be able to find the words to speak, introducing yourself in the next moment. “I am honoured to meet you.”

“I could feel the excitement pouring off of you since you arrived,” she smiles, and you believe the expression actually makes her glow. “I know none of these idiots told you much about us. Do not fear.”

“To be quite fair, they didn’t tell me that you could appear in a human form, either.” You admit, shifting your gaze pointedly at the closest male, who just so happens to be Wooyoung.

He simply raises his hands in his own defence, palms upwards and facing you.

“I’m one of the few left among us whom can do so. The other have long since been hunted to death.” She explains.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” your brows droop slightly, not even being able to begin imagining what that must be like. To watch your friends die around you, and being hunted at the same time. Though, you suppose that might be something you’ll have to get used to, especially if you are to live a life with them.

“Your sympathy is much appreciated,” she replies. “You are very genuine with your emotions.”

“Oh, thank you,” again, that familiar heat rises to your cheeks.

“I know they’ve mentioned my name, but I would like to properly introduce myself. I am Wyno, the Alpha of the remaining dragons. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” she bows to you, her eyelids fluttering closed for a brief moment.

“The pleasure is all mine,” you mirror her bow. “Truly, I am honoured to meet you.”

Standing back to her full height, Wyno smiles at you. In the next moment, she’s darting her gaze to the three males around you once more.

“Yes, I very much indeed like this one a lot more than the last,” Wyno nods. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

Without another word, or waiting for a reply for that matter, she turns quickly on her heels. The trails of her robe billow out behind her as she walks back into the cave, the interior suddenly illuminated by dozens of torches. Iridescent eyes stare out at you from every angle.

The giddy smile that pulls onto your features as your eyes trail after her is like nothing the three males have ever seen before. That is, until you’re turning your gaze to meet theirs.

Before any of them can react, you’ve elbowed Seonghwa in the ribs, kicked Jongho in the shin, and smacked Wooyoung on the arm. All lightly, of course.

“Next time, warn me when there’s going to be a drop dead, stunningly pretty lady dragon meeting us in person,” your eyes are sharp as you look between all three of them pointedly. Taking a step towards the cave, you mutter under your breath, “my word, is she ever gorgeous.”

Each male tenderly rubs over the spot you’ve just hit them in before following close behind with loving smiles on their faces. A few chuckles escape them as they see you taking in every detail of the cave with wonder in your eyes. You’ve already passed a few of the smaller dragons, that awe filled gaze causing some heads to turn as you pass by.

You don’t get very far into the cave before you’re stopping, noticing Wyno standing beside a sleeping wyvern. Well, a wyvern who pretends to be sleeping as it peeks a scarlet eye open at you from beneath a turquoise wing.

“There are very few who are ever invited inside a dragon’s cave,” she begins. “Fewer still who leave alive.”

The three males take a closer step in beside you, surrounding you on all sides as snarls tug at their lips.

“Oh, will you three relax, she’s not threatening me,” you place a hand onto Seonghwa’s shoulder seeing as he’s the closest to you. “I’m assuming if she wanted me dead, I would be by now.”

“Again,” she grins. “Perceptive.”

You turn to meet her gaze, bowing once more. “I understand the importance of you granting me access into your home, and I am honoured to have entered.”

“Like I said,” Wyno nods approvingly. “She’ll make an excellent Queen. She’s levelheaded, and can put you all in your place if need be.”

“You have always had a way with words, Wyno,” Jongho smiles, a chuckle falling from his lips.

“When have you ever known me to be dishonest?” She replies with a hum. “Have you not seen how her aura shines when with you? Or have you not bothered to check?”

“My aura?” Your brow furrows slightly, noticing how both Jongho’s and Wooyoung’s eyes flash gold, pupils narrowing into slits.

You just know they’ve shifted their eyes into those of a dragon’s for the moment.

The way their breaths hitch has you blinking in confusion once more.

“She’s right,” Wooyoung breathes, blinking once as his eyes shift back to normal.

“One reason we are hunted, My Child, is for our eyes,” Wyno explains. “Dragon’s eyes are some of the most powerful in all of the realms. We are able to read people from a glance, determining their aura’s and how they affect those around them. Another reason why I like you so much. You do not have that same dishonesty about you as the last one did. Your aura is bright. Strong. As are you.”

You smile bashfully, tapping your one foot on the ground. “Thank you, Miss Wyno.”

“My Child, you do not need to address me with a title,” she meets your gaze with a kind smile. “You have already proven yourself before you even opened your mouth.”

Your eyes shine with a deep gratitude, and she nods her understanding, even as you thank her once more.

Only, you hear the three of them growl in the next moment.

“Wyno, would you please kindly tell Boris to fuck off.” Jongho practically snarls, narrowed eyes glaring at the turquoise wyvern who’s tail swishes languidly beside Wyno’s feet.

“He may be trying to flirt, but I do not think it’s going to work out all that well for him,” Wyno laughs, patting the wyvern on top of his head, only for him to let out an exasperated puff of air in response.

“What, you guys never been hit on by a dragon before, or something?” You giggle.

“We aren’t the one he’s trying to flirt with, Beautiful,” Wooyoung’s words are a bit sharper than normal as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Wyno laughs again as realization crosses your features.

“Oh, well, I’m flattered, Boris,” you grin, noticing how the wyvern’s red eyes are on you once more, “but I’m very happy with my eight Kings for the moment.”

Three pleased growl are heard from behind you, seemingly echoing throughout the cave. That is, until you hear screeching coming from deeper within.

“Oh, you boys have really done it now,” Wyno tuts teasingly, shaking her head.

In the next moment, you feel yourself get tackled to the ground, a small weight bouncing excitedly against your chest as something slithers around your right leg, and another around your left arm.

“You’ve woken the babies,” Wyno chuckles.

Sure enough, you see a little dark blue dragon hopping up and down on your chest. Soft, high pitched whines escape its mouth as it wiggles on top of you. Looking to your left, you see a green amphiptere curling it’s tail around your arm as it gazes at you curiously. On your leg, you tilt your head just in time to see an albino wyrm resting comfortable against your thigh. All three seem to be humming in content.

“Well, hello there to you all, too,” you giggle, a large grin pulling at your features as the dark blue dragon trots around slightly on your chest, spinning in a circle eagerly before staring deeply into your eyes. “May I offer a friendly head pat to each of you?”

Wyno chuckles as all three of them let out small screeches of excitement. “They would love that.”

“Wonderful!” You smile, already reaching over to offer the dark blue one the first of your head pats. Slowly, you manage to reach across and pat the green amphiptere on the head before sitting up slightly and patting the albino wyrm on the head affectionately.

“They like you,” Wyno observes.

“Well, I like them, too,” you reply, smiling at the three little ones still clinging onto you.

“Normally, the babies don’t like anyone new,” she shoots you a knowing look.

Your eyebrows raise in realization as you look back at the three small dragons happily crawling all over your lap as you sit up. “I am so happy you three like me. Do I pass the inspection? Do I get your approval?”

All three shriek at once, and a laugh is falling from Wyno’s lips once more.

“If that wasn’t clear, it was a resounding ‘yes’,” she hums, looking on fondly at the scene before her.

In the blink of an eye, the dark blue dragon has hopped onto your head, perching there like a cat as you go to stand.

“The one on your head is Xiron,” Wyno tells you, and you can practically feel how he spreads his wings and puffs out his chest in pride as she says this. “The one crawling up your leg is Monty.” A whine is heard. “Excuse me. He prefers Mon.”

You chuckle.

Gracefully, the amphiptere circles around you once before landing on your shoulder.

“The one now perched on your shoulder is Yerra.” Wyno smiles, noticing how the small female wiggles slightly in her new spot.

“Pleasure to meet all of you,” you smile, doing your best to look at all of them. “Mon, would you like to rest around my other arm and on my shoulder?”

At the excited wiggle he gives you, you chuckle.

“Alright, you two,” you slightly nudge Yerra on your shoulder, and Xiron on your head. “Hold on tight.”

Bending down slightly, you allow Mon to slither his way up your body and wrap himself around your arm. His razor sharp teeth do not phase you at all as his mouth comes to rest right beside your head, nuzzling your cheek affectionately with his own.

“This is incredible,” Wyno states, a look of incredulous disbelief painting her features. “They hardly listen to anyone, but they seem so attentive to you.”

“I am so happy right now,” you wiggle in your spot lightly, the dragons cooing along with you.

Little do you register the fond looks the three males are giving you right now as you completely immerse yourself in playing with the three babies.

“We are happy to have you,” Wyno says, and your heart swells with warmth in your chest. “Mon is especially glad you haven’t shied away from him. Most people do. Even those who are aware. Wyrm’s are not the most popular amongst us.”

“That’s a damn shame,” your brow furrows, turning your head to stare at the side of Mon’s head. “I’ve always loved dragons since I was small, and to learn that you’re all actually real is just mind boggling for me. I think you’re all incredible. I always have.”

Just then, the whole mountain trembles, and your heart leaps into your throat.

“Oh, will you knock it off, we have guests!” Wyno turns her gaze to her left, and you notice a giant scaled head peeking into the room through a natural crack in the wall. “I must apologize for Orthon’s mountain rattling. He enjoys scaring people.”

A puff of smoke escapes the large dragon’s nostrils, and you take the time to admire his vibrant amber scales which glimmer in the firelight.

You hear the three little dragons around you hiss at the older one, who just huffs out another puff of smoke in response.

“Yeah, you tell him!” You chuckle, hearing the three of them hum in content at your words. Just then, you feel Mon shiver against your arm. “Oh, what’s the matter Mon? Are you cold.”

A small screech greets your ears.

“Unfortunately, Mon is a little behind on his growth compared to the others, so his skin is more perceptive to certain temperatures. The dampness from the rain must be affecting him.” Wyno explains, seeing you nod your head along with her words in the next second.

“Would it be weird if I offered my jacket?” You ask, looking between Mon and Wyno.

“Not at all,” she smiles at you, eyes crinkling at the sides. At the way Mon wiggles excitedly you can tell he also likes the idea.

“You’ve never offered us your jacket when we’re cold,” Wooyoung pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“When have you ever said that you’ve been cold around me?” You snort, gently helping Mon crawl off of you for the moment as Xiron and Yerra fly around your head. “Besides, I didn’t realize you guys could get cold.”

“It’s rare, but it does happen,” Jongho adds.

“Well then, next time I’ll offer you my sweater or something,” you chuckle, shaking your head while playfully rolling your eyes. “I swear, you’re bigger babies than these ones.”

At the way Yerra and Xiron fly overtop of the three male’s heads, you can just tell they’re poking fun at them. Especially at the way annoyance flashes across Seonghwa’s features.

“Alright Mon, would you like to experience what being wrapped up like a human baby feels like?” You ask, watching as the shivering wyrm nods, almost excitedly. “Excellent!”

After shrugging off your jacket, you crouch down beside him. Each step of the way, you gently tell him what you’re about to do so he doesn’t get startled when you touch him. Not even a minute later, you have the wyrm wrapped up in your jacket, holding him in your arms like a baby.

“Oh, aren’t you two just precious,” Wyno coos, walking over to you and brushing her hand delicately over the top of Mon’s head. “I’m sure his parents would like to meet you.”

“Wow, meeting the parents already?” You quirk a brow, shooting a teasing look at the three males standing off to the side with their arms crossed. “I think you guys have some competition.”

Mon absolutely screeches happily in your arms, wiggling in your grasp as Wyno lets out a boisterous laugh. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Boris huff, turning away from you pointedly.

“Oh, somebody’s jealous,” you motion to the wyvern with your head, who appears to be sulking now as he faces the wall.

“Jealous old coot,” Wyno chuckles, patting his head affectionately as she walks past. “Please, follow me. His parents should be returning any minute now.”

“This is honestly one of the best days of my life,” you say, following close behind Wyno as the other three fall into step beside you. You spare a glance towards all three of them. “Thank you.”

“We’re just glad you’re enjoying yourself, Gorgeous,” Wooyoung is the first to respond, soft smiles tugging at all of their lips.

A moment of silence passes over all of you as you reach the front of the cave. Both Yerra and Xiron land on your shoulders, nuzzling against you affectionately as you see two giant albino wyrms slither into the cave from outside.

A screech greets your ears as they stand to their full heights, both towering over you as you stop in front of them.

“Any news to report?” Wyno asks them, listening intently to the hissing each wyrm responds with. “I see. We’ll deal with that in due time. For now, why don’t you meet your son’s new best friend.”

With that, she motions over her shoulder to you, clicking her tongue just as Mon does the same, letting out a small screech in the next moment. You blink as both wyrms seemingly turn to face you, their rings of teeth shining in the faint light you can now see trickling in from the cave’s mouth.

“Hello,” you greet, somewhat shyly. “Your son is absolutely lovely, and I’m honoured to meet both him, and you.”

You can just tell that the hums they release are affectionate, pleased screeches following soon after.

Mon begins wiggling in your grasp.

“Alright, Mon, I’ll put you down so you can see your parents,” you giggle, unwrapping him carefully so you can place him back onto the ground.

You watch as he slithers over to his parents, both Yerra and Xiron flying alongside him.

A smile stretches across your features as you see Mon tenderly rub up against his parents before the three of them are making their way deeper into the cave. You can feel your heart swelling with warmth once more in your chest, eyes shining as you observe the scene before you.

A brief silence passes over all of you. That is, until Wyno is breaking it once more.

“I have some more serious matters to discuss with you now,” she begins, and immediately, all of your eyes are on her. “Perhaps it is not but fate that brought you here today.”

“Is this something you would like us to bring to the council’s attention tonight?” Seonghwa’s demeanour changes almost instantly, and you can see how he stand a little straighter.

“It would be best not to keep it silent,” Wyno nods. “The last one I met decided to pay us a visit the other day, and she wasn’t alone.”

Their eyes all flash black, snarls on their lips.

“Miyeon,” Jongho hisses out, teeth bared as he growls.

“Ah, yes, that was her name, wasn’t it?” Wyno hums. “Her aura has darkened, even more so than before. She is a danger to us all.”

“That, we already know,” Wooyoung huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The male she was with was even worse,” Wyno comments. “Aura as black as night, and intentions even darker. He carried nothing but a red bow with silver tipped arrows. A scar ran over his left eye, starting from the middle of his forehead all to way down his cheek.”

“Who was he?” Seonghwa takes a small step forward, almost protectively, towards you.

“I do not know his name, for he let the girl do all the talking,” Wyno continues. “And she had a lot of nothing to say.”

“What did she want?” Wooyoung asks, and you notice Wyno shoot him a pointed look.

“Let her finish, Woo,” you reach out to place a hand onto his arm which helps to calm him slightly.

Wyno gives you a simple nod in thanks before she’s speaking once more.

“This girl propositioned us with an alliance,” she meets each of their gazes. “An alliance to destroy all of you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. This is all because of you.

The three males stiffen around you, subtly shifting closer to your body.

“What did you do with her offer?” Jongho’s voice is low, the hint of a threat lingering beneath his words.

“Do you think me a fool that I would accept such filth walking into my house, threatening my young, against people who have aligned with me for over eight centuries?” Her voice booms, eyes lighting with a newfound fire as the cave roars with movement behind you.

You move beside Jongho, placing a gentle hand onto his shoulder and noticing how he visibly relaxes beneath your touch.

“We meant no offence, Wyno, and I apologize if these men have caused you such,” you meet her gaze, noticing how she calms slightly at your words. “Just as I am sure you are very protective over your family and loved ones, they are just as protective over me. Miyeon wants to destroy me because she’s deluded herself into thinking she owns their love. Their power.”

Wyno takes a moment to study your features, eyes lingering around your head.

The corner of her lips quirks upwards. “At least one of you can see reason before reacting on instinct.”

“You denied her then.” Seonghwa states, rather firmly.

“Without question,” Wyno turns to face him. “I do not wish to get involved in whatever it is your realm has going on unless I absolutely have to. Too many of my kin sacrificed themselves in the last war you had us fight in alongside you. I am not willing to risk that again right now.”

You feel your heart go out to her for the moment as she says this, even if you have yet to learn the context. You can tell the burden still weighs heavily on both her heart and shoulders. You can see it in the way her eyes shine with the ghost of her past.

“I have no idea how she was able to find our home, given you never brought her here. Though, given the reek of the man she was with, I have no doubt he was able to track us.” She continues. “She also didn’t take too kindly to me outright laughing in her face, and sending her off with an answer she did not want to hear.”

Your brow furrows in worry as your gaze drifts past Wyno’s head for the moment.

You blink. Looks like the rain has stopped.

“You said she wanted your alliance to help destroy us?” Seonghwa inquires, features pulling into a frown as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“She boasted about an army she supposedly has. Said she wanted to ‘create a new world.’ A world where she could finally take her rightful place over the dirt - the scum of the earth.” Wyno recalls, mirroring Seonghwa’s stance as she crosses her own arms over her chest.

Three pointed snarls echo throughout the cave, ringing in your ears.

You blink again, and that’s when you notice something odd about the forest just beyond the cave. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

“How the hell could Miyeon have an army that would willingly follow her?” Wooyoung scoffs in pure disbelief.

“Perhaps it belongs to the man she was with.” Jongho voices, hand coming up to cup his chin in thought.

“He did not seem of this realm, but I am sure of one thing,” Wyno responds. “They were bonded somehow, and it was clear he was devoted to her.”

A flash of red in the trees draws your attention, and you find yourself stepping the slightest bit forward to get a closer look.

The entire forest goes still.

Instantly, your eyes are widening as your hand darts out to catch a silver arrow pointed directly at your face, angled right at your forehead. You can hear all of their breaths hitch around you, a screech of terror coming from the opening of the cave as Yerra flies back inside, crying loudly.

The arrow held in your grip begins to burn your skin, and you toss it aside as a second one comes flying in. This time, you aren’t fast enough to catch it, feeling a dull thunk in your ear as it sinks into your left shoulder.

Without a second thought, you rip it out of your body, tossing it beside the other one as your eyes burn with a fury unlike ever before. A pain begins to seep into your veins, radiating from your shoulder throughout your body. You choose to ignore it for now in favour of turning to look back out of the cave’s mouth to see a flurry of arrows raining down towards you.

Without thinking, you wrap an arm around Wyno and pull her to the ground with you, your body half shielding her own.

The sound of the arrows hitting the ground is unlike anything that you’ve heard before, and you feel your entire body start to tremble as your adrenaline begins to pump through your veins.

You go to lift your head, needing to check if everyone is okay. Only, before you can so much as move, three earth shattering roars are shaking the entire mountain.

“Stay here,” someone hisses above you, but you hardly even register the words for the moment as your head spins.

Immediately, the three males are springing into action. Seonghwa summons a blade, while Jongho summons two of his battle axes. Wooyoung immediately shifts into a dragon, running outside of the cave alongside the other few dragons that have leapt into battle alongside them.

They can’t believe they couldn’t sense anyone approaching. The rain dulled the scents around them, minds too focussed on the information being told to them by Wyno to observe that something was going on. If you hadn’t of caught that first arrow…

No. They’re not even going to think about that right now. They have more important things on their minds. Like absolutely destroying the twenty hunters that have hidden themselves around the area.

No one hurts you and gets away with it. Absolutely no one.

Lifting your head, you’re quick to apologize to Wyno, moving off of her in the next second.

“Are you alright?” You check her over for injuries, noticing her robe is a little dishevelled for the moment.

“My Child, I am fine. It is you who should worry about yourself,” her golden eyes lock in on your bleeding shoulder, nostrils flaring as she scents your open wound. A screech from deep within the cave draws her attention, and you see pure fear flash within her eyes. “Xiron is still out there.”

Your feet are moving before you have a chance to think.

Breaking from the mouth of the cave, your eyes frantically search the cliff face for Xiron. You keep to the sides, back against the wall as you scan the rocks for a little blue body.

There. Your eyes widen as you see a silver arrow sticking out of the ground, Xiron frantically trying to get free from it despite the tip pinning his wing in place. His cries of agony have you moving without a second thought.

In a few seconds, you’ve reached him, cooing softly to the dragon despite the chaos still going on around you. You can hear more arrows whistling past, but at this point, you don’t care.

Unfortunately for you, every time you go to grab the arrow to break it and free the crying dragon from it’s piercing hold, the metal burns your hands.

“It’s okay, Xiron, I’ve got you,” you sooth the dragon as best you can by gently running your bloodied hand over his head. “I’m right here, I won’t let anything else hurt you. It’ll all be over soon.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see an arrow flying directly towards you.

Instantly, you’ve covered the small dragon with your body, holding yourself above him for protection. You cannot stop yourself from flinching as you feel the arrow embed itself into your back. Followed by another, and then another. At the fourth one that you feel pierce your skin, you finally release a pain filled cry.

Is this the end? Is this really how you’re going to die? After experiencing one of the happiest days of your life, are you really going to fall victim to such an attack?

No. You tell yourself, gritting your teeth through the pain. It’ll take a lot more than this to kill you.

A few minutes pass by with nothing but stillness surrounding you. A deadly silence rings through your ears, but you’re not sure if that’s just death calling, or if the fight has truly stopped.

At the sound of someone falling to the ground beside you, you figure the battle has ended.

A soft call of your name has you slowly lifting your head, eyes blinking as your vision clears to see Wooyoung on his knees, hand paused halfway in reaching out to you. Tears line his eyes, falling freely as soon as you look at him.

Xiron whimpers beneath you, and without a moment’s hesitation, you’re moving off of him. Your whole body trembles as you do so, and you have no idea how you haven’t thrown up from the pain so far, but you manage to keep it together for a little while longer.

“Help him,” your voice comes out slightly strained, and you can hear two other pairs of footsteps rushing over to you. A gentle hand on your back has you turning to lock gazes with Jongho. “Don’t help me, save him.”

“Worry about your damn self for once,” Seonghwa’s tone is harsh, his eyes shining with nothing but fear as he helps you to your feet.

You cannot stop the pained cry from escaping you as you back stretches over your wounds, the arrows still firmly embedded in your skin.

Tears well in your eyes but you do whatever you can to prevent them from falling.

“Get the fuck off of me, and help him first,” your tone is the harshest it’s ever been towards the eldest, and even the other two pause in their movements to spare a glance at you.

“You are more important to me right now,” Seonghwa retorts. “I don’t care-“

“And I am deeming a child’s life more important than my own,” you spit, stumbling out of his grasp and onto your own two feet. Blood soaks into every free inch of your clothes, turning the light coloured fabric a deep red. “Do not fucking touch me again until Xiron is okay.”

Out of the corner of your vision, you see Wyno rushing over to you, blood trickling down the side of her face.

Again, Seonghwa attempts to hold you steady.

“No, Xiron-“

“Is fine, Darling,” Jongho’s voice is soft as he pops up beside Seonghwa.

“Let me-“ you cough, blood dripping onto the hand you use to cover your mouth. “Let me see him.”

Wyno holds the dragon delicately in her arms, her golden eyes shining as she looks at you. You can faintly make out a single tear trailing down her cheek as Xiron sleeps soundly, appearing fully healed for the moment.

“You protected us as if we were your own,” you can hear the strain of emotion in her voice as her voice hitches in her throat. “We are forever in your debt.”

She takes a step closer, resting her forehead against your own as you attempt not to cough up more blood onto her.

“Thank you,” a sob escapes her, another tear trailing down her cheek.

“I am glad he’s okay,” your gaze darts to Xiron held in her grip.

“Noting a long nap won’t fix,” she smiles. “Now, go. Before the poison takes hold.”

You barely get out a farewell before the familiar sight of the foyer greets your eyes. The feeling of your feet leaving the ground makes your head spin as Wooyoung lifts you carefully into his arms.

In the blink of an eye, Jongho has cleared the front desk of items, swiping his arm across the top and causing them to scatter to the floor. The sound is enough to draw the other five to the foyer, panic seizing each one to them as they take in the sight before them.

“What the fuck happened?” Hongjoong demands, voice booming throughout the room as nothing but fear courses through his veins.

Tears spring to both San’s and Mingi’s eyes as they see the four arrows still sticking out of your back as Wooyoung gently lays you on your stomach on top of the desk.

“We were ambushed,” Jongho’s voice is gruff as he responds.

“Looks like Miyeon’s found herself some allies,” Seonghwa spits through grit teeth.

Immediately, Yeosang is coming up to inspect the arrows protruding from your back. It’s the only thing he knows to do to keep it together at this very moment. Still, he cannot prevent the way his hand shakes as he gently places it onto the skin of your upper arm.

“How the hell did something like this happen?” San rounds on the three of them, a fury lighting behind the worry found in his eyes.

“It’s not their fault,” you manage to get out, coughing up more blood in the process.

“Petal, don’t strain yourself,” Yunho moves to stand in front of you, brushing his hand tenderly over your forehead as Wooyoung and Yeosang inspect your wounds. He’ll do whatever he can to help comfort you, and ease the pain for the time being.

They all need to know the type of arrows used, and what type of poison it is before both Yeosang and Wooyoung can properly start healing you, or even remove them.

“Don’t worry,” you attempt a smile, your fingers twitching at your sides as your arm slides off of the table somewhat limply. Well, there goes your attempt to shrug them off with your hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s only a scratch.”

“Are you stupid?” The eldest’s voice is harsh, and when you turn to look at him, the pure fury you see shining on his features has your breath hitching in your throat. “I fucking told you to stay put."

“When have I ever been known to listen to you?” Your attempt at a joke does not bode well with him.

“When it could mean saving your own life,” he retorts.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” You snap, brow furrowing. “To be fucking honest there was a lot going on, and if your little order slipped my mind I’m fucking sorry, okay?”

“Did you even use your mind when you ran out there to be used as target practice?” Seonghwa is furious, his eyes swirling with that all too familiar blackness.

“Hwa-“ Mingi attempts to step in and prevent this from going any further, but at one sharp look from the eldest, he basically gets ignored.

“No, you fucking didn’t.” Seonghwa spits, rounding on you. “You decided to run into the fucking midst of battle, knowing their target was you, to mindlessly cover a body that didn’t need your protection.”

You inhale sharply, your own eyes flashing as you angle your body towards him.

“He was a child, what did you expect me to do?” You push yourself up as much as you can, despite Yunho, Wooyoung, and Yeosang all attempting to keep you laying down. You push them off of you as you sit on the edge of the desk. “Let him die?”

“If it means you surviving!” He replies incredulously, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t need to be worrying about whether or not you’re taking damage during a fight that you had no reason entering to begin with!”

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong warns, tone firm as his eyes narrow at the eldest.

“I wasn’t about to let a child die,” your eyes blaze as you meet his, keeping your voice low for the moment as you pull yourself to your feet. “I’ve seen the effects firsthand, and if I can prevent that from happening, I will. There is no grief greater to a parent than losing their child.”

The others can only watch on in silence for the moment, shock clear on all of their faces at the way Seonghwa’s eyes blaze.

“They’ll get over it eventually,” his voice is harsh, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your sanity snaps, eyes wild with a frenzy unlike ever before, and despite the pain, your back instantly straightens.

“Say that to my fucking sister who lost her child at only two years old. Say that to the way she was so consumed by her grief, she almost lost herself, even two years later. Say that to me, who had to watch helplessly as she slowly died inside, and couldn’t bring herself to look at another child for three fucking years because of the guilt that consumed her. Do you know how many times I found her attempting to overdose on whatever drugs she could find, just to numb the pain?”

A silence so deadly settles over the room.

“So, ex-fucking-scuse me if I want to prevent that from happening to anyone else. I felt so fucking helpless watching my sister fall apart like that. So, if I can at least prevent that from happening to someone else, I will gladly do whatever I can to protect a child. To protect the people I care about.” You seethe, a fire blazing in your orbs. “I may not be able to do much, but the least I can fucking do is that. Death doesn’t only claim one soul when it comes knocking.”

Your entire left leg begins to go numb and you fall to your knees, the first of your tears spilling onto your cheeks. Tears of which you’ve been desperately holding back despite everything.

“Don’t you dare fucking say to me that they’ll get over it eventually,” you lock gazes with him, and you notice how his breath catches in his throat. “Because I know for a fact that you wouldn’t just be able to ‘get over’ losing me.”

A sharp inhale is heard around the room from all of them.

“I’m sorry if my presence feels like a burden to you,” you direct the remark right at Seonghwa, and he physically recoils, eyes going wide as he watches more tears trailing down your cheeks. “It’s no different than I’ve felt my entire fucking life, so why should I expect you to be any different?”

A humourless laugh escapes your lips.

“I never asked for any of this,” you cough once more, leaning forward onto your hand for support as you entire body begins to go numb. “At least you won’t have to worry about me for much longer.”

You fall forward, your arms giving out beneath you as your entire body collapses to the ground. Immediately, you feel them all surround you as your vision begins to blur, void slipping as your mind drifts away.

The last thing you see is a single tear falling down Seonghwa’s face as your vision goes black.

[janeiteoftheslums]

At The Gold Saucer, Aerith Is Still Pining For Zack

SE baited us so hard with that last trailer, I can’t stop giggling.

At first, I didn’t know what to think. Romantically coded clips of Aerith clinging to Cloud—a very stoic and grumpy-looking Cloud, I might add—interspersed with him gawping at her on stage as she “sings” a love ballad about fate and destiny? Isn’t that a bit… tacky? One wonders if SE is trying to make two of their most popular characters look like total scumbags. Why is Aerith, fully aware that her new friends Cloud and Tifa have feelings for each other, getting waaaaay too cozy with Cloud? And is Cloud somehow complicit in what seems to be a flagrant betrayal of both Tifa and Zack?

Of course, we know exactly who’s been gobbling it up. Convinced that Hollow is about Cloud longing to be with Aerith, they’ve wasted no time in appropriating “No Promises To Keep” as Aerith’s answer to Cloud.

The trailer does give the impression there’s something going on between those two; and, obviously, that was deliberate.

But when you take a closer look at the lyrics that are sung after the trailer, an entirely different picture emerges.

Till the day when we meet again

In our place

Just let me believe

In the church

Know that you’ll take my hand

And never let me go

Take my hand

And believe we can be

Together evermore

Did you catch that?

In OUR PLACE.

In the CHURCH.

I know that in general, theme songs aren’t meant to be interpreted line by line, but this is VERY specific.

Now unless you’ve bought into the rampant lies and delusions about Hollow, you should immediately know who Aerith is singing about. Who spent “a lot of time” with her in that church, according to the devs? Who, when he first saw her face, thought he was in heaven and called her an angel? Whom did she embrace to comfort him? To whom did she first speak the words, “I’d like to spend more time with you”, in that very same church?

(Hint: not the other guy who crashed through the roof 7 years later wearing the same sword and spent more time with Reno than with Aerith during the brief time they were there together.)

It’s not all that hard to figure out.

The ones who still refuse to see what SE has been beating us over the heads with since Chapter 8 of Remake—they’ve got it coming. They’ve already set themselves up for this. I’ve seen them comparing Cloud’s expression in Remake’s red dress reveal to this one below, where he’s supposedly lovestruck as he watches her sing.

And since now we know there will be four different Gold Saucer dates, just like OG, these are both from OPTIONAL scenes. What else is new?

The devs were obviously trolling big time with that over-the-top scene, with the red carpet and the crowd and the fireworks, and now they’re doing it again, this time on an even grander scale. Aerith is the star of the show, singing on stage, garbed in a pure white princess dress, standing amid showers of yellow flowers.

Follow the yellow flowers.

Reunion.

Till the day when we meet again…

And if Aerith is singing about how she wants to be with Zack at the Gold Saucer, moments before the infamous gondola ride that’s been trumpeted for decades as proof she fell for Cloud—or the Zack-colored version of Cloud, as most of us understand he wasn’t truly himself—then that tacky montage we saw in the trailer can’t possibly be what it appears to be.

This is new. Aerith is now not only explicitly but extravagantly shown to be still pining for her first love at this point in the story. She’s NOT moving on, even if she’s convinced herself she’s trying to. Or perhaps she’s “giving up” again, as she lamented to Cloud in the Language of Flowers scene.

So what’s really going through Aerith’s head as she’s reaching for Cloud? What are we supposed to think of her? What other developments have happened in Rebirth to lead up this point—say, for example, in Gongaga? We’ll have to wait for rest of the game to get the full context of these clips—which, again, are most likely from optional scenes—but I’m convinced they’ll be overlaid so heavily with the specter of Zack that no one with a shred of honesty could possibly conclude Cloud is being portrayed as Aerith’s true love.

What all this amounts to, basically, is more of the same fake, superficially romantic scenes we got in Remake. The bridal catch. Them being on a “date”. Wall Market sleaze calling them a couple. I absolutely hate it, but the way this is looking, Cait Sith might still have something to say this time around.

And what about Cloud? Again, the same as Remake. She pushes herself into his space, and he’s kind (or bewildered) enough to tolerate her closeness, but his face is an open book. He’s not having a good time.

Don’t forget: Crisis Core Reunion was stated to be part of the FF7 Remake project. The devs wanted everyone to play that game in order to fully appreciate what’s coming in Rebirth. And a central feature of that game was Zack and Aerith’s blossoming relationship and the tragic way it was cut short. Not only that, but Zack’s character profile for Rebirth states he’s trying to return to his “love”, Aerith. They didn’t do all this for no reason.

Remember the last scene of Remake? The first notes of Hollow play as rain falls on the cracked earth at Cloud’s feet, exactly the way Nobuo Uematsu describes his inspiration for the song. Then Zack appears, with the visual of his face interposed directly between Cloud and Aerith.

Just as in the first game, that image is going to hover over every scene with the two of them in Rebirth. Just as their “date” in Remake wasn’t about Aerith falling for Cloud but missing Zack, Aerith’s Gold Saucer date is going to have similar overtones. Their brief time together is not the love story some are bent on interpreting it as. And we shouldn’t fall for it, either.

In spite of the way they shaded her in Remake, of which booby-trapping Cloud in her house was just one instance, I’m not willing to believe SE is out to utterly destroy Aerith’s character. I don’t think most of her fans deserve that. But they do seem to be going out of their way to make a certain ship look really, really bad.

And for those who still insist on pretending, against all odds, that ship is actually going to sail? They’re in for a massive shock.

Take a moment to let this sink in. The THEME SONG for Final Fantasy Rebirth is a love song from Aerith to Zack, yearning to be reunited with him, promising him he’ll find her. And it’s performed by the amazing Loren Allred, who first dazzled us with her stunning vocals in The Greatest Showman (let’s try to forget for the moment that, most frustratingly, she sounds nothing like Aerith’s English VA and it’s futile to hope the in-game performance, if she does in fact supply Aerith’s actual singing voice, will be the least bit believable). This is more than any Zerith fan ever dreamed we’d be given. It’s positively glorious.

More than once in the past few months, it’s been confirmed that the end of the FF7R trilogy will fall in line canonically with the events of Advent Children, with Zack and Aerith in the Lifestream, “together evermore”. We have to get there somehow, to that point where they joke about “adopting” Cloud and walk off, side by side, to say their final goodbye. I can’t wait to see their reunion!

[alexbkrieger13]

Double vision

Partners on and off the pitch, Bayern pair Pernille Harder and Magdalena Eriksson have firm convictions on all the big topics facing women’s football in an era of exciting growth and mounting pressures

In a room at Bayern München’s training ground, Magdalena Eriksson and Pernille Harder are talking bicycles. One of their favourite things about Munich, the place they have both called home since making the switch last summer from Chelsea to Bayern, is the ease of travel for cyclists in the Bavarian capital.

Eriksson: “Now we live quite centrally so we can use our bikes to get anywhere.”

Harder: “It is a bit easier to bike here in Munich than in London.”

Magda: “We even took our bikes to Oktoberfest once.” 

Pernille (laughs): “We were biking straight!”

This is the beauty of an interview with the pair (even one conducted over Zoom, as this one is): you raise a subject and they bounce it around between them, their insights and reflections interspersed with lighter moments and laughter. And, as arguably their sport’s highest-profile couple – Harder is a two-time UEFA Women’s Player of the Year, Eriksson a Sweden stalwart – they have plenty to say. 

Both care deeply about matters on and off the football pitch. They are members of UEFA’s Football Board (of which more later), they support the Common Goal project – pledging one per cent of their salaries to support football charities – and on top of that they are advocates for the LGBTQ+ community. 

But, first, back to finding their feet in Munich, where the duo bring serious know-how to a Bayern side with big ambitions, despite an early exit from the Champions League in January. In Harder’s case, the Denmark forward knew German football already from her three years with Wolfsburg between 2017 and 2020. For Eriksson, after six seasons in England with Chelsea, this is an entirely new experience – which is exactly what she was hoping for.

“I think that’s how we are as people,” says the former Blues captain. “A reason why we moved is I am really curious about a new culture and a new environment.” From the sounds of things, that decision is paying off too. Away from the pitch, she is enamoured of the local coffee shops; on it, she has been impressed by the way “a lot of the girls take responsibility around the dressing room and with how things should work around the team. There’s quite a clear structure of different responsibilities, and the players take ownership of that. That’s something more like how it was in Sweden, and not at all in England. It makes us take responsibility and it’s something I appreciate.”

As for Harder, she elaborates on the unique culture of Germany’s biggest football club – one which attempts to marry sustained success with humility. “It really is a club where you have to work hard, be humble but also know your worth,” she says. “It’s a bit weird. There is no arrogance: we know we’re good, we know we are a big club, but we know we also have to work hard. There’s a lot of respect for each other, and it’s not only in our team. When we go to the campus and meet the academy boys or some of the other staff, you have the respect. You treat others the way you want to be treated, and that’s a really good value which aligns with my values.”

Now both in their thirties – Eriksson is 30, Harder 31 – they knew the women’s game before its lift-off moments of recent years. Thus, they bring a helpful sense of perspective to any discussion of its development, and how it might evolve in years to come.

If female footballers today have opportunities beyond the dreams of previous generations, they face pressures unknown by their predecessors too, as Eriksson explains. “I think there are two sides to every story. Maybe, when we grew up, there wasn’t that much pressure, but with a growing platform [and how] the women’s game is growing, there is also growing pressure. The fans are growing, social media is growing, so there are two sides to it.

“We can really help the younger generation of today to deal with that kind of pressure, which you have to be able to manage as a footballer,” she adds. “You have to find what you need to focus on and what you should really just shut off and not focus on. You need to find the people that you talk football with and the people’s opinions you shouldn’t care about.”

Harder picks up the thread: “When we were younger, there was only one focus and that was football – to get better and to win. It was just football: that was the thing we played for. Now, there is so much more and, with social media, it’s also about a lot of individual awards, individual recognition, when the focus should be on the team. And I think it’s easier to be distracted [from] having that right focus. That’s something important to think about…”

“And to remind yourself about on a daily basis,” Eriksson cuts in. “And also to spread that within the team – that it’s a team sport and the team wins, the team loses, the team scores, the team concedes. All of those things.”

“Except when Magda scores!” adds Harder with a laugh, teasing her partner over a goal she scored in the week of this interview.

Jokes aside, the pair obviously think a lot about the game, which makes them natural choices to sit on UEFA’s Football Board, the body set up last year to draw on the knowledge of current and former players and elite coaches in the shaping of women’s football. For Eriksson, it’s “inspiring to know you get a direct line to some really big decision-makers”, and the welfare of players – “the football calendar and making football sustainable” – is something both women are keen to highlight.

“We all want a long career, but sometimes if you have to play all the time and have no break, that will shorten it,” says Harder. “Often, we have tournaments in the middle of summer or late summer, so we have four or five weeks before the tournament for our summer holiday, but then we don’t really have that time off because you train to prepare for the World Cup. And then, after the World Cup, [Magda] had ten days and I had two weeks off, and then you just go straight back into it. So, you have to put the tournaments earlier so you have at least four weeks after when you can really, medically, relax and be ready for the new season. Everything else is just too hard mentally and for the body.”

“It was the same last year with the EURO and the amount of injuries we saw after,” says Eriksson, who, ironically, just days after our interview, suffered a metatarsal fracture in her left foot. “Again, [it was] a couple of weeks off for a few, even less for others, and then you are straight back into a high-performance environment where you immediately have to play games. Finding a balance in the calendar where you get the breaks at the right time and don’t have too many games in short spaces of time is the most important thing.

“The fact we are starting now to do research on women’s bodies and women’s players is the first step. With the way we train, the way we train conditioning, everything is based on research on men’s football players, men’s athletes. We don’t know if it’s the same for us. Should we train more or less, or in a different way?”

From Harder comes further food for thought. “When you think about it, we use the same football as the men. It isn’t that I want to change it, but it’s also the same size of pitch and we don’t have the same body; we don’t have the same strength in the muscles. I don’t know the impact from every time I shoot or make a pass, if that’s actually a bigger impact on my muscles than it is on a man’s. That’s something I think it would be quite interesting to look at. I don’t know if it’s something we want to change and have a lighter ball. Maybe it’s just small percentages of how heavy the ball is that could change it.”

“There is rivalry in women’s football, but respect, love and joy always come first”

It’s fascinating to hear this to and fro on the physical side of the game they love, and it’s not the only challenge they see. We talk too about misogyny and what Harder describes as “a mindset of some people who don’t want to change [and see] that women can also play football, women can also be commentating on men’s football, that they also have knowledge about football. They have their mindset and their values about it and it’s really difficult for them to change.”

What is not in question is that women’s football has taken giant steps already in terms of status and recognition. As the commercial opportunities grow, however, neither woman wants to lose the things that make it different from the men’s game. Eriksson recalls the celebratory atmosphere in Australia and New Zealand during the last Women’s World Cup; she cites too the friendly fan dynamics in the club realm.

“We are coming off the back of a fantastic World Cup where there were only positive emotions connected to the games. Of course, some teams win, some teams lose – that’s part of football – but the way the tournament was held and the fan culture, that was amazing. So much positivity, so much joy, and that’s everywhere in women’s football fan culture right at the moment. That is what we want to keep. In women’s football, that rivalry is still there, but the respect, the love and the joy is always what comes first.”

The last word comes from Harder, ever the finisher. “It won’t be easy to keep it like that, but that at least is the aim.”