#disclaimer: author is no longer religious

[fangdokja]

General + Request Rules and Regulations

Please refer to this post on the only characters I will write for: Fandoms and Characters.

♡ Anonymous. You cannot make actual REQUESTS (both short and long form) anonymously. But, you can state in my inbox if you want to remain anonymous in the posting. I will ensure your privacy. For any ASKS (random or whatever you want to say that do not require long answers or my usual structured content), this can be done anonymously.

The request and asks rules are applicable to the following books ONLY:

"World Ablaze (WA): For You, I Would Burn the World." - for long form fanfiction yanderes

“A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology” - for long form original yanderes

"Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows." - for short form original and fanfiction yanderes

But I do have other books you can check out, if you want to look for more content suited for you.

Blog Rules & Guidelines 📜✨

Welcome! Before engaging with this blog, please take a moment to read the rules. By interacting, you agree to respect these guidelines. Thank you! 🙏

General Etiquette 🌟

🚫 No bot-like behavior: Profiles that appear robotic will be blocked and reported. Ensure your profile looks authentic.

📩 No inbox spamming: Repeated requests for the same content (character, theme, etc.) will result in deletion or blocking. Unique requests, however, are welcome!

🕵️‍♀️ Anonymity: If you wish to remain anonymous, please specify explicitly in your message.

Interaction Guidelines 🛑

⚠️ Hate and offensive content: Any hate mail, offensive messages, or harassment (towards me or the community) will lead to immediate blocking and reporting. This includes:

Negative spamming

Reblogs meant to hunt or attack the blog

Hateful comments or personal attacks

🤝 Critical feedback: Substantial, thoughtful criticism is welcome. Fallacious or unsubstantial arguments are not.

🚫 Trauma dumping: Sharing traumatic experiences without consideration of timing or audience will result in blocking and comment deletion.

Content Requests 📝

⏳ Patience is key: I prioritize quality over speed. My post schedule is planned 2 weeks to 1 month in advance, so your request may take some time.

❌ No rushing: Requests will be completed at my discretion. Rushed work will never meet my standards of quality.

⚡ NSFW requests: Explicit NSFW content takes longer to produce, as I specialize in psychological and fantasy writing, not romance or erotica.

Content Boundaries 🚧

🛑 No irrelevant asks: This includes petitions, unrelated information, personal promotion, religious slander, or topics not aligned with this blog's purpose.

🖤 Negativity unwelcome:

No kink-shaming

No self-righteous, non-critical comments

No general negativity This blog is a space for creativity, psychological exploration, and faith-based appreciation.

⛓️ NO CROSS-POSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ⛓️

⚠️ DO NOT repost, translate, or cross-post my works anywhere. The only valid sources for my content are my official accounts listed below. If it’s not directly from me, it’s not authorized.

The author's works are only available in the following sites:

Official Website: https://dokjafang.wordpress.com/

Royal Road: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/99582/gods-protagonist

Tumblr: https://fangdokja.tumblr.com/

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/385617969-god%27s-protagonist

Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/user/FangDokja/

Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangDokja

X Twitter: https://x.com/fangdokja?s=21

Traditional Publishing: (Future plans)

Official Art: (Future plans)

Manhwa / Manga: (Future plans)

✨ Direct sharing (reblogging, linking, or quoting with credit) is fine! But full reposts, translations, or reuploads? ❌ NOT ALLOWED.

💀 If you see my work posted elsewhere without credit, assume it’s stolen. Please report it or let me know.

Faith-Based Disclaimer ✝️

While this blog is focused on male yandere, dead dove, and psychological content, you may also encounter occasional posts appreciating Jesus and the Bible. My faith is central to my life and inspires my work. If that’s not for you, I kindly suggest you move along.

A Final Note ✍️

Art and writing take time, care, and effort. Please respect that I have a life outside of this blog. By engaging here, you agree to abide by these rules. Let’s keep this space inspiring and enjoyable for everyone! 💌

Request Rules 📖✨

If you’d like to make a request, please follow these guidelines carefully. By submitting a request, you agree to these terms.

Request Types 🖋️

🖤 Specify Length:

LONG Requests (e.g., A Heart Devoured, World Ablaze)

SHORT Requests (e.g., Whispers In The Dark) If unspecified, I will assume you want a LONG request by default.

🌸 Happy Endings:

If you want a Happy Ending or Happy For Now Ending (yandere and darling end up together), ensure your request does not violate any rules.

Breaking the rules will most likely result in a Bad Ending. These rules protect your “Happy Ending” and reduce the chances of tragedy.

Content Boundaries ⚡

🔥 NSFW Requests:

I reserve the right to decide whether explicit content will be:

Fully depicted

Enumerated

Hinted at

Requests with NSFW themes may still be subject to change based on my discretion.

🌟 Author’s Freedom:

I will have the final say on how to conduct your request. While I’ll aim to meet your expectations, no guarantees will be made.

Requests are subject to acceptance, rejection, or editing for the final output.

Request Submission ✉️

✅ What to Include:

A prompt, specific short idea, or concise but substantial content to clarify your vision.

Avoid one-word requests—they will be ignored.

❌ What to Avoid:

Overly detailed requests (e.g., fully fleshed-out stories or long paragraphs) as they limit my creative freedom.

Requests sent outside my Tumblr inbox (e.g., Messages or comments) will be deleted and ignored.

🔄 Request Limit: Each person may send up to 2 requests at a time. Additional requests will be deleted.

Additional Rules 📌

🛑 Request Status:

Check the header request button to see if requests are open or closed.

If requests are closed, please do not send messages about reopening them. Refer to these rules instead.

❓ Replies to Requests:

I may or may not reply to your message. Responding is optional and based on my availability.

What I Will Not Write 🚫✍️

The following are themes and requests I will not entertain under any circumstances. Please respect these boundaries to maintain a positive and productive space.

Content Restrictions 🛑

✝️ Anything disrespectful or inaccurate about Jesus: Content that degrades or misrepresents anything related to Him will not be written.

💍 Characters that remind me of my real-life husband:

Writing characters resembling my husband is uncomfortable and off-limits.

Examples: Toji (JJK), Yoo Joonghyuk (ORV), Aomine Daiki (KNB), Sung Jinwoo (SL), Wriothesley (GI), Callisto Regulus (VADTD), and most “black flag” or red flag male leads.

🌸 Characters reminding me of real-life people:

For example, “soft” or “green flag” characters remind me of acquaintances, which feels too personal and strange.

❌ Adultery, cheating, or infidelity: Loyalty is non-negotiable for yanderes in my works. Yanderes will not have other love interests (e.g., no cherished past spouses).

Sensitive Topics ⚠️

👶 Pregnancy and children:

Includes pregnancy fetishism, abortion, or content involving children.

(Not Tumblr-compliant, and I cannot ensure their safety in stories.)

🚫 Minor-related content:

Due to Tumblr content guidelines, sexual or suggestive content involving minors is strictly prohibited. Characters will be aged up to 18+ where applicable.

🌈 Romanticized LGBTQ+ content:

I only write heterosexual (male yandere x female reader) romance.

💔 Polyamory or divorce:

Polyamorous relationships are not accepted.

Break-up requests (boyfriend x girlfriend) are allowed, but no divorce scenarios.

Character Limitations 🎭

🐶 No submissive men:

This includes submissive, switch, “puppy” male yanderes, and crossdresser characters. Also, most "green flag" and obsessive kind of men belong to my friend. And, we don't share fandoms at all.

🌹 Gentle or consensual content:

No gentle sex or consensual scenarios, whether SFW or NSFW.

All stories will center on dub-con, non-con, or psychological dynamics (Dead Dove themes).

🌟 Older female tropes:

No MILF tropes or older female readers. Reader will either be younger (18–20s) or unspecified in age.

💪 Tall, muscular, or chubby female readers:

Reader will either be short, petite, pale-skinned, or unspecified in build and appearance.

🔥 Strong or overpowered female protagonists:

Female protagonists will remain weak and submissive to emphasize the male yandere’s perspective.

🧠 Stupid characters:

I will not write for emotionally or morally unintelligent readers or characters.

Plot & Canon Restrictions 🚧

📜 Canon divergence:

I will not write canon-divergent content unless for personal reasons.

🔄 Specified protagonist behavior:

You cannot dictate how I write the female protagonist. That is entirely up to me.

⚔️ Death scenarios:

I will not write character or reader death scenes. However, attempted death scenarios are acceptable.

🌀 Genderbent or crossdressing characters:

Includes femboys, crossdressing, or related concepts.

🐾 Platonic yanderes:

Romantic yanderes only, except for non-human yanderes (e.g., monsters, animals, etc.).

Some exceptions apply (e.g., Undertale AUs), where romantic yandere non-human monsters are allowed, but no explicit sexual content.

Other Kinks I Will Not Write About 🚫💋

Below is a list of specific kinks and fetishes that I will not entertain under any circumstances. Please review this carefully before making requests.

General Fetish Restrictions 💔

🛑 No Acrotomophilia: Attraction to amputations.

🛑 No Abasiophilia: Attraction to people with mobility issues.

🛑 No Balloon Fetish: Sexual attraction to balloons.

🛑 No Bestiality/Zoophilia: Relationships or acts involving animals.

🛑 No Bug Chasing: Fetish involving the transmission of STDs.

🛑 No CBT: Cock and ball torture.

🛑 No CFNM: Clothed female/naked male scenarios.

🛑 No Climacophilia: Sexual arousal from falling down stairs.

🛑 No Clown Fetish: Attraction to clowns or clown-related scenarios.

🛑 No consensual anal sex: Non-con is allowed; consensual is not.

🛑 No Crush Fetish: Fetish involving crushing objects or small creatures.

🛑 No Cuckolding: Fetish involving humiliation by infidelity.

🛑 No DIY Porn: Requests involving consensual pornography creation.

Bodily Fetishes 🩸

🛑 No disfigurement fetish: Permanent bodily injuries as a fetish (non-con injuries are acceptable).

🛑 No body part-specific fetishes: Examples include foot fetishism, hirsute fetish (hair), pantyhose fetish, nylon kink, or trichophilia (hair attraction).

🛑 No Ederacinism: Fetish involving uprooting trees.

🛑 No Figging: Use of ginger root for sexual stimulation.

🛑 No Latex Fetish: Attraction to latex materials.

🛑 No Vomit Fetish: Explicitly involving vomit.

Psychological or Unique Kinks 🧠

🛑 No Gender Bending: Scenarios involving gender-swapped characters.

🛑 No Praise Kink: Sexual gratification from receiving praise.

🛑 No Gerontophilia: Attraction to significantly older individuals.

🛑 No Spectrophilia: Sexual attraction to ghosts or spirits.

🛑 No Stygiophilia: Arousal from the thought of hell or damnation.

🛑 No Objectum Sexuality: Romantic or sexual attraction to objects.

🛑 No Robot Fetishism: Unless for psychological or thematic purposes.

🛑 No Vicarphilia: Fetish involving living vicariously through another (only allowed for psychological analysis).

Non-Human or Uncommon Fetishes 👾

🛑 No Tentacles: Tentacle-related content.

🛑 No Teratophilia: Attraction to monsters or non-human entities. (Romantic and suggestive moments are allowed; explicit sexual content is not.)

🛑 No Vore: Includes consumption fetishes. (Non-con cannibalism is acceptable.)

🛑 No Yoni Egg: Sexual fetish involving yoni eggs.

Exceptions and Clarifications ✨

Psychological aspects of certain kinks (e.g., Vicarphilia, Robot Fetishism) may be explored in non-explicit contexts.

All non-con and dub-con scenarios remain within my scope of writing, as long as they align with the established rules above.

What I Can Write (But Not Limited To) 🌹✨

Important Notes 🖤

💎 Older Male Yanderes: All my works feature older male love interests with significant age gaps, ranging from just a few years to generational differences. Yes, daddies only.

🖤 Dominant & Sadistic Characters: My expertise lies in creating black flag yanderes—dominant, sadistic, possessive, and the type to make you beg for more while they choke you. I also write red flag characters, but my main focus is black flag yanderes who are as dangerous as they are intoxicating. Yanderes who aren't hesitant or afraid to hurt, or even kill you.

🧠 Psychological Focus: I specialize in psychological themes intertwined with thriller and horror genres. My writing delves deep into obsession, manipulation, and unraveling psyches.

💌 Practicing Romance & Erotica: While I’m sharpening my skills in these genres, keep in mind that my romance will always veer toward dark romance. You won’t find comedy, slice-of-life, or fluffy happiness here.

Plot Ideas 🖋️

🔪 Reverse Harems: I can write reverse harems with multiple love interests, but the reader will ultimately end up with one guy per ending. (Alternate endings are possible.)

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Dark romance is the muse, depravity is the language. Please read carefully before sending requests.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 (𝐍𝐎𝐍-𝐂𝐎𝐍 / 𝐃𝐔𝐁-𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘)

Requests for consensual content will not be accepted.

𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 🧠✨

🔪 Autassassinophilia (Arousal from being in danger)

😈 Erotic Humiliation

🖤 Erotophonophilia (Arousal from murder or violent acts)

🖤 Hybristophilia (Attraction to criminals)

🌙 Hypnokink (Hypnosis and control)

🪞 Katoptronophilia (Arousal from mirrors)

🎭 Role Play

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ⛓👑

🕰 24/7 Dynamics

⛓ BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Sadism, Masochism)

🔗 Bondage

🎀 DDLG (Daddy Dom / Little Girl dynamics)

💰 FinDom (Financial Domination)

🪢 Interrogation Play

🪢 Japanese Bondage

🥀 Masochism

🎛 Orgasm Control

🔒 Ownership Kink

🐾 Pet Play (only kitten and master dynamics)

🎗 Rope Bondage

👑 Dominance (Male yandere only)

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 🩸💥

🩸 Blood Kink / Blood Play

😶‍🌫️ Blindfold Play

🌬 Breath Play

🖐 Gagging

🎯 Impact Play (Spanking, flogging, etc.)

⚡ Electrostimulation

⚡ Edge Play

🪷 Size Kink (Large/tall male yandere, petite darling)

👊 Fisting

❄️ Temperature Play (Ice, heat, wax)

🖇 Whipping

🕯 Wax Play

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 💦😈

🍑 Anilingus (Non-con only)

🍼 Age Play (Older male yandere only)

🤍 Autoerotic Asphyxiation

🤰 Breeding Kink (Not for pregnancy purposes)

💦 Dirty Talk

👊 Fisting

🍓 Food Play

💛 Golden Showers

🤖 Objectification

✨ Overstimulation

💸 Money Kink

🐺 Primal Kink / Play (Hunter/Prey dynamics)

🩲 Underwear Kink

🎨 Wet and Messy

𝐍𝐎𝐍-𝐂𝐎𝐍 / 𝐃𝐔𝐁-𝐂𝐎𝐍 🚨⚠️

🤝 Consensual Non-Consent

📹 DIY Porn (Non-con only)

💉 Needle Play (Non-con only)

😴 Somnophilia (Arousal from sleeping/unconscious partners)

⚠️ Rape Fantasies

𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌 🌌👀

🌌 Exhibitionism

👥 Frotteurism

🏙 Public Play

👀 Voyeurism

𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 🌪🔥

🥩 Cannibalism

🏠 Claustrophilia (Arousal from confined spaces)

⚰️ Necrophilia (Non-con fantasies only)

🔥 Pyrophilia (Arousal from fire)

🚨 Symphorophilia (Arousal from disasters or accidents)

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Fictional exploration does not reflect endorsement or promotion of harmful real-life behavior. All submissions are filtered with this understanding.

𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Darkness is art; taboo is the canvas. Read carefully before proceeding.

𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄, 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 & 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 💢✊

🗯 Bullying

🏢 Classism

📲 Cyberbullying

💸 Poverty

👩‍⚖️ Sexism & Misogyny

🔗 Slavery & Indentured Servitude

💋 Slut-Shaming

📂 Workplace Harassment

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 🔥🔞

⚠️ Dubious Consent Scenarios

🚷 Gang Rape (Reader cannot specify characters)

👨‍👩‍👧 Incest (Aged-up only)

⚰️ Necrophilia

🚨 Rape

🎥 Revenge Pornography

✋ Sexual Assault

🚫 Sexual Harassment

🌍 Sex Trafficking

🕊 Sex-Worker Shaming

🔗 Sex Work & Sex Slavery

𝐀𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒 🖤🕊

💍 Arranged, Forced & Coerced Marriage

👊 Domestic Abuse & Violence

🧠 Emotional Abuse

👨‍👩‍👧 Incest (Aged-up only)

🖤 Intimate Partner Abuse & Violence

𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄 🧠🩹

🍷 Addiction

❓ Amnesia & Memory Disorders

😟 Anxiety & Anxiety Attacks

♾ Bipolar Disorder

😞 Depression

🪞 Disordered Weight & Body Thoughts

🌫 Dissociation & Dissociative Episodes

⚖️ Dysphoria

🍽 Eating Disorders

🎲 Gambling Addiction

🌀 Hallucinations

🔪 Intrusive Thoughts

🌌 Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

🩸 Self-Harm

😔 Sex Addiction

🌙 Sleep Disorders

💊 Substance Addiction

🌫 Suicidal Ideation

☠️ Suicide & Attempted Suicide

𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐇𝐎𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐒 🍷💉

🍾 Alcohol Consumption & Abuse

💊 Drug Abuse

🥄 Drugging

💀 Overdose

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, ��𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐘 & 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 🩸🩺

✂️ Amputation

🩸 Blood & Gore Depiction

👁 Body Horror

🌌 Body Modifications

🥩 Cannibalism

😖 Chronic Illness & Pain

🪦 Dead Bodies & Body Parts

⚔️ Decapitation

🔪 Dismemberment

🤢 Emesis

👁‍🗨 Eyeball Trauma

✂️ Genital Mutilation

🏥 Hospitalization

❌ Loss of Autonomy

🦿 Loss of Limb

🔲 Loss of Vision

⚗️ Medical Experimentation

💉 Medical Treatment & Procedures

💉 Needles

🦠 Pandemics, Plagues & Contagions

🦽 Paralysis

⚕️ Physical Injuries & Illness

🩹 Scars

💧 Starvation & Dehydration

🪚 Surgery

☠️ Terminal Illness

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒 🕊🖤

❄️ Death from Exposure

🌫 Death from Falling

🕊 Death of Loved Ones (Child, Parent, Friend, Spouse, Sibling, etc.)

💔 Grief & Loss Depiction

𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 🚨🔪

🖤 Asphyxia, Strangulation & Suffocation

🖤 Blackmail

⛵ Boating Accidents

🏢 Building Collapse

🪤 Captivity & Confinement

🚗 Car Accidents

🔎 Disappearance of a Loved One

⚡ Electrocution

💣 Explosions

🔥 Fire & Arson

🏢 Gang Violence

🤺 Garrotting

🔫 Gun Violence

🪢 Hanging & Lynching

🏠 Home Invasion

🚔 Hostage Situations

🚨 Imprisonment & Incarceration

🚔 Kidnapping

⚔️ Knife, Sword & Axe Violence

🚢 Maritime Disasters

⚰️ Murder & Attempted Murder

🕵️ Organized Crime

💊 Poisoning

🚓 Police Brutality & Violence

🎓 School/Workplace Shooting

🕵️ Stalking

🎭 Torture

🚂 Train Accidents

🧪 Vitriolage (Acid Attacks)

⚰️ Vivisepulture (Burial Alive)

🖇 Whipping

𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄 🪖💣

☣️ Chemical Gassing & Warfare

🌍 Colonialism

🏚 Concentration Camps

✍️ Conscription

🕊 Genocide

🔥 Massacres & Mass Murder

🪖 Military Service & Deployment

☢️ Nuclear Disasters

💥 Riots

⚔️ War Themes & Military Violence

𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍𝐃 ��𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐘 🐾❌

🦌 Animal Attack

🖤 Animal Cruelty & Abuse

🪦 Animal Death

🐕‍🦺 Animal Illness & Injury

🧪 Animal Testing & Experimentation

🏹 Hunting

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This is fictional exploration for writing only, and does not condone or promote harmful behavior in real life.

[letsgoletsgetit08]

fix off pt. 2

summary: Mingi turns to every coping mechanism besides a healthy one in the aftermath of Jongho's death, two years later.

warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, su*c*de attempt, implied/referenced su*c*de, major character death, overdose, recreational drug use, religious imagery & symbolism, catholicism, barebacking, strangers to lovers, bittersweet ending, angst, hurt/comfort

pairing: priest!soft dom!Jeong Yunho x hot fucking mess!Song Mingi

author's note: HEY! Read the tags! This fic has some very heavy content! Please DO NOT READ this if mentions/discussion of suicide/attemps or character deat (RIP Jongho, so glad you're alive IRL, king) are in any way triggering to you! Also, know that myself and Ateez would be very sad if any Atiny or anyone else took their own life. Don't do it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ! !! !!! That said, this work is based on/influenced by/referencing - sometimes lightly, sometimes very directly because Phoebe Waller-Bridge is more of a genius than me - the show Fleabag. This show is personally very important to me, it both healed me in some ways and also hurt me very deeply. If you have seen the show, you know how this ends. Again, read the tags. Phoebe, if you happen to read this for whatever reason, I just hope you're flattered because of imitation and all that.

OKAY! Disclaimers disclaimed, please let me know if I missed anything. And with that, please enjoy. This one is kind of my baby. I hesitated to even post it here because I'm a little scared of how it will be received but you never know until you try, right? Comments, likes, & re-blogs are always welcome, but please be civil.

word count: 23,480

ao3 link: fix off

December 3rd

Mingi had been back at his apartment for a few weeks, finding it odd to be there. Exciting and nerve-wracking, but also comforting. It didn’t feel the same, but he hadn’t wanted to be at Wooyoung and San’s any longer. After Halloween weekend, he had been doing much better. Reading for fun again. His bar hadn’t even fired him, it turned out that Hongjoong had explained everything to his manager, who begrudgingly agreed, probably, Mingi thought, under Hongjoong’s scary gaze, to let him come back whenever he was ready. Mingi was very grateful. Yes, he had been considering if he had even wanted it any longer, but once he decided he wanted to go to grad school, he realized he would probably need at least a part time job. Plus, his savings wouldn’t last forever. 

He was getting ready for dinner that night, debating on what to wear. Mingi honestly had no clue who all was going to be there besides his friends. Seonghwa hadn’t wanted to overwhelm him by forcing him to un-mute the group chat, so he just texted him the dress code, location, and time in a separate text. 

Eventually, he landed on a black turtleneck under a blue (so dark it was nearly black itself) suit with a black satin lapel and matching blue suit pants. Black dress shoes. Silver jewelry. 

Upon his arrival to the restaurant, he couldn’t help but be startled. His friends sat around a large round table, with the addition of a man in a black button-up with a little white piece in the collar, silver rosary necklace around his neck. 

His beautiful neck.

The empty spot at the table was next to the hot priest. 

“Mingi!” Hongjoong called as he approached, “Glad you’re here. This is Father Jeong Yunho. He’s going to be marrying us.”

The man, even taller than Mingi, large brown eyes holding a subtle mischievous glint, stood to shake Mingi’s hand, “Just ‘Yunho’ is fine. Nice to meet you.”

Mingi glanced down. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, his hands. “Mingi, nice to meet you.”

Yunho quirked an eyebrow, head tilting to the side like a confused puppy, almost like he could hear Mingi’s thoughts, “Seonghwa was just telling about how he and Hongjoong met.” He changed the subject. 

“Yes!” Seonghwa exclaimed, evidently already a drink deep, “I mean we met in college, but we didn’t really meet each other until karaoke on New Year’s Eve…”

Mingi had heard the story a thousand times, letting his brain go blank as he ate, knowing that everyone else would carry the conversation. 

He was right, too. It lasted through appetizers. 

No one has said a word to me in half an hour.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Yunho turned to Mingi. 

He probably jumped in his seat at the sudden attention, “Oh. Um. I’m a bartender.”

“He’s applying for grad school!” Seonghwa supplied. 

“I’ve also recently decided to apply for grad school.” Mingi echoed, holding back from rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Amazing. What will you study?” Yunho’s eyes locked onto his like he was the only person in the room.

Mingi felt his face go red, “Oh. Um. Anthropology.”

“It’s okay, Mingi. Believe it or not, some priests also believe in evolution.” Yunho smiled kindly. 

He’s sharp.

“Are you one of those priests?” Mingi couldn’t help but try to feed his curiosity some scraps.

“I am one of those priests.” Yunho winked, “I believe in a lot of things that would probably surprise you.”

“Gay marriage.” Mingi offered.

“Mingi!” Seonghwa accosted him. 

Yunho chuckled, “Yes, including gay marriage. Just none for me, personally. They really frown upon that.”

What about gay sex?

Yunho raised his eyebrows, a movement so quick that Mingi was sure the whole table had missed it, seeming to follow Mingi’s train of thought. 

“What's the worst wedding you've had to do so far?” Wooyoung piped up, changing the subject once again. 

Yunho huffed a humorless laugh, “Ah, probably my brother's but that's because he's-” 

“Uptight groom, huh?” Hongjoong offered.

“No, it’s-”

“I'm sure it was a little weird marrying a family member.” Seonghwa tried to conclude on his own.

“Did you not like his spouse?” Yeosang asked. 

“He's dead!” Yunho said, a little too loudly, “Sorry. Yeah. This will actually only be my second wedding. Turns out Catholic priests who are willing to perform gay marriages aren't exactly in high demand.”

Mingi's hands had gone clammy at his words, “Cigarette.” He mumbled, pushing his chair back. 

“Mingi, wait, I'll go-” Wooyoung called after him, but someone cut him off. 

“Let me.” He heard Yunho's voice but didn't turn around, heading out the side door of the restaurant, steadying his breathing as he leaned against the brick wall. His hands shook as he brought the cigarette to his mouth. 

Yunho was there beside him in the blink of an eye, raising a lighter and cupping his hand around Mingi's cigarette to light it. 

He was grateful the man let him sit in silence for a minute. He heard him light his own cigarette, ignoring how he could see how pretty his lips looked as they wrapped around it from the corner of his eye. 

Mingi let out a long draw, smoke hovering in the cold autumn air, “My friend, our friend, Jongho, passed away a little over two years ago.” 

“Oh, Mingi, I'm sorry. I didn't know. This was supposed to be a get-to-know-each-other dinner so that I could do the couple justice at their wedding.”

Mingi could feel the others’ eyes on him, but didn't dare look quite yet, “There's no way you would have known. I've just been. Well. It's been a lot, lately. I'm trying to be better.” 

Yunho leaned into his space far enough that Mingi had to look into his eyes. He had never felt eye contact that left him feeling so open, so vulnerable before. But not in a predatory way. Not like he was rolling over and showing his belly in submission. It was something else entirely. He felt seen. “If you ever need to talk, Mingi. My rectory is right behind the chapel. Over on 3rd street downtown.” 

“I'm not religious.” 

“Neither am I.” Yunho looked serious. 

“You're literally a priest-” Mingi started.

“I know, I know. It's not that I don't believe, it's just… complicated. But I am a qualified person to lend an ear. If you ever need one.” 

Mingi studied him as he took another drag of his cigarette. “I'll keep that in mind, Father. ” He blinked up at him through his eyelashes, just to see what reaction the man would have.

Yunho rolled his eyes, but Mingi clocked the exact shade of red his neck turned at his words. Yunho put his cigarette out on the wall beside him, “I'll see you back inside, then.”

Mingi’s head spun.

Why does the priest have to be hot?

December 7th

Returning to work was disorienting to say the least. The bar had a pretty high turnover rate, so no one he currently worked with had been there after Jongho passed. He had intentionally not gotten close with any of them since then. He had hoped his manager hadn’t said anything about why he had been gone, but as soon as he arrived, he knew that wasn’t the case. His coworkers all gave him horribly pitying looks and skirted around him like he might dissolve on the spot if they were anything but excessively gentle with him. 

One of them tried to give him her tips when her shift was over. He declined, of course. Although the money would have been nice. Another one of the servers made sure to say “please” and “thank you” when dropping off drink orders. His fellow bartender had insisted upon letting him work the well so he didn’t have to deal directly with customers. It was nice and in theory, he appreciated it. But in practice, it made him feel singled out. 

When his manager offered to cut him early, he accepted, pretending not to see the other bartender slip some of his tip money into Mingi’s tip jar while he thought Mingi wasn’t looking. 

Mingi walked out, shivering in the chill air before remembering he had left Jongho’s hoodie inside. He turned back to retrieve it but something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A bell tower piercing the night sky could be seen a few blocks away. 

Yunho did say to come by any time.

He opened his phone to Google Maps to confirm that the church he was headed towards was indeed the one the priest had been referencing. 

It was.

After retrieving his hoodie he began to make his way over.

He skirted around the outside of the main building, finding the rectory exactly where the man had said it would be. 

Why did the priest have to be hot?

He knocked, never once considering it was nearly 11pm and non-bartenders with normal hours might be asleep. 

Yunho answered the door a minute later, one eye still scrunched closed, hair mussed in the back, wearing a well-worn Spiderman t-shirt and athletic shorts. 

“Mingi?” Yunho’s voice was raspy.

He remembered my name!

“Hi, sorry.” Mingi felt his ears go hot, “You said come by anytime-”

“No, no, of course.” Yunho rubbed his eyes, “I meant it, too. I just maybe hadn’t considered um. Bartender hours.”

Mingi stood like a deer in headlights, frozen in the doorway, “I can just go-”

“No.” Yunho moved out of the way, “I’ll put on some tea, come inside. I really don’t mind. I’ve just been, uh, really enjoying going to bed early lately.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing or I’ll kick you out.” Yunho turned towards his small kitchen, looking for the kettle.

“That seems counterintuitive, Father.” Mingi couldn’t help myself. 

Yunho whipped around, “Oh, fuck off with that.”

“With what?” Mingi asked, trying to sound innocent.

Maybe he prefers ‘daddy’. 

Yunho stared him down, “Do you want some wine instead?

Mingi chuckled, “Like… the blood of Christ himself?”

Yunho rolled his eyes, “No like wine from France that’s burning a hole in my cabinet.” 

“Yes, that sounds nice.” 

Yunho smiled, eyes tracing over Mingi’s face like he was reading the subtitles to his inner monologue. Mingi looked down, unable to stand having someone flay him open so casually like that. Yunho turned, fishing coffee mugs and the wine out of the cabinets. 

“Sorry, I don’t own wine glasses, funnily enough.”

Mingi huffed haughtily, laying his fake distaste on heavily, “Ew, nevermind, I’m leaving.”

“No, wait, come back, I haven’t even made you repent yet!” Yunho called as he brought the coffee mugs over to the table, where he indicated for Mingi to sit. 

“You’re just assuming I need to repent for something?” Mingi crossed his arms over his chest.

“Do you need to? Why don’t you tell me what brought you here tonight.” Yunho handed Mingi the coffee mug, fingers brushing. 

Electricity shot up Mingi’s arm, nearly making him drop the mug. 

God, his fingers.

“Where’d you just go?” Yunho caught his gaze again.

Mingi met his eyes, thinking that he might feel more naked in front of him now than he would if he actually had his clothes off. He ignored Yunho’s question. “I work nearby, actually. My shift was… weird tonight.”

“Weird how?” Yunho leaned in, propping his forearms on the table, listening intently.

“It was my first night back.” Mingi took a sip of the wine, letting it warm his insides and loosen his tongue, “I didn’t expect everyone to know and they all treated me like I would break.”

“First night back from…?” Yunho looked genuinely curious.

Mingi felt embarrassed, having gotten used to everyone knowing what he’d done that he was surprised when Yunho hadn’t been filled in. “Oh. I um. I tried to- well. I did overdose. About a month and a half ago. I apparently had some self-preservation left in me because I called Hongjoong at the last minute.” He stared at the wine in his mug the whole time he spoke, but could feel Yunho’s eyes on him the whole time. “I stayed with Wooyoung and San afterwards because everyone was scared I would… try again.” 

“Mingi…” Yunho reached forward, grabbing Mingi’s wrist, “I’m glad you weren’t successful.”

“Because I would have gone to hell?” Mingi raised his eyebrow.

“Because I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you.” Yunho answered. His words hung in the air, the implication of them, the acknowledgement of the chemistry between the two of them crackling the atmosphere like heat lightning. 

Mingi didn’t know what to say, but Yunho continued before he needed to reply, “You’re doing better now, though?”

Mingi nodded, “I am. I’m maybe actually um processing things. Rather than just coping. But everything on the other side is a little overwhelming, I guess. I hate that my friends are so worried. I want them to be able to just enjoy Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s wedding.”

“Hm.” Yunho let go of his wrist, taking a drink of his own wine, “Do you want my advice?”

Mingi smiled, “No, I came over just for the wine and weird energy between us.”

Yunho laughed, “Okay, heard, loud and clear.” He composed himself, taking a breath, “Mingi, I think that you have to realize your friends find it to be a privilege to have you in their lives to worry about you. Worrying is one of the biggest indications of caring about someone. The fact that you’re worrying about them worrying… well it sounds to me like you and your friends have a lot of love for each other. Just try to be grateful you have people to worry about and who worry about you in return. Not everyone can say that for themselves.” Mingi didn’t miss how the vein in Yunho’s forehead became slightly more pronounced at his last sentence. 

He sighed, finishing his wine as he let Yunho’s words process, “I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that. Thank you.” 

Yunho smiled, “Any time, Mingi. So I guess you don't actually have anything to confess then, hm?”

Mingi barked a laugh, “Ha! I have so much to confess but not tonight.” Mingi stared a hole through the table.

“Well,” Yunho waited until Mingi returned his eye contact, “I'm here. If you ever need to. Actually, here.” He pulled out his phone, “In case it's a very specific priest-related emergency.”

Mingi chuckled as he put his number into the man's phone, “Have you experienced a lot of those?”

“Nah,” Yunho dialed the number so Mingi would have his as well, “Surprisingly, most of the time it’s a pretty monotonous lifestyle.”

“Most of the time.” Mingi couldn’t help but admire the man’s pretty cheekbones, plush lips. 

Yunho seemed to be doing the same, “Yeah.” He sighed, eyes lingering on Mingi’s lips a little too long to be subtle, “Most of the time.”

“I should get going. It’s past your bedtime.” Mingi stood up rather abruptly, breaking the tension.

“It is indeed, but that’s okay. I’m glad you came by.” Yunho’s expression was genuine, eyes holding a hint of what Mingi swore was forbidden desire swimming behind the surface. 

Mingi stood to leave, letting Yunho walk him to the doorway. He turned before he was out the door, “Yunho?”

Yunho smiled softly, “Yeah?”

“Who do you have that worries about you?” Mingi whispered it, too nervous to speak any louder. 

Yunho’s eyelids fluttered, “Surely after all the time I’ve devoted, the Lord himself worries for me.”

“He doesn’t count.” Mingi was standing so close he could have kissed him, “I’ll worry for you now.”

Yunho’s chest heaved at his words, “Mingi… I’ll worry for you, too.” 

December 12th

Therapy. 

Mingi was going to really try this time, too. 

His chest was tight with anxiety as he entered her room, sitting on the couch opposite of her chair. She was older, hawk-like features trying to appear soft.

Not my type.

“Is there anything in particular you want us to focus on today?” She asked, reedy voice managing to cut through his nervous internal monologue. 

He took a deep breath, then started the only place he knew to, “My best friend is dead.”

“That must be very hard for you.”

“Well, yeah. Made all the worse because I did something that I think contributed to him dying. We don’t even know for sure if it was a suicide or not. But I feel like deep down, we all know.” Mingi couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out.

“Why do you think you contributed to it?” She kept her face neutral.

“Because. It was a pretty direct cause and effect. I know I should probably tell them but I never even told him and I think if I had that he might still be here. He could have placed his anger on me rather than himself.” Mingi had never said it out loud before. 

“Hm.” She considered his words, “Why do you think you should tell your friends? This seems to be something between yourself and your friend who passed on.”

“You don’t think I should tell them?” Mingi was surprised.

“If you would have told him originally, he would have been the one in the position to tell your friends what happened. Not you. It’s his to tell. So I think you should go tell him.” She said it like it was the simplest answer in the world. 

“Go… tell him?” He was confused.

“Does he have a gravestone?” 

“He’s in an urn. It’s with his parents.” Mingi replied, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

She thought about it for a minute, “Do you have something of his?”

He nodded.

“Take it outside somewhere nice. Close your eyes and say it out loud like he’s there with you.” 

“That will work?”

She chuckled, “It’s not a magic trick, Mingi. You can’t make grief or guilt go poof with a few words like a magic spell. But you can find ways to lessen their effects. To process. Heal. And I think doing this will help you.”

“I honestly did not come here thinking I would leave with homework.” Mingi couldn’t help but laugh. 

She smiled, “I can’t force you to do anything. I’m just telling you what I think might assist you in building some coping skills.” 

He sighed, slumping back, “Okay. I guess next time we'll get to the story about me trying to kill myself a few months ago.”

Her perfectly composed mask faltered slightly, eyes going wide at his words, “Oh, well, yes. We should definitely talk about that next time.”

Five Years Ago

“I can’t believe we’re about to graduate in a few months.” Jongho sighed, leaning his head against the wall of the library where they were studying. 

“I can’t believe both of us spent four years here and we’ll just be bartending still. Like we could have done without a degree.” Mingi chuckled. 

“Hey!” Jongho kicked his ankle, the angle weird since they were sitting side by side, taking a study break, “Are you saying you don’t think I’ll make it as a musician?”

“No way! Not at all. Of course I believe in you.” Mingi nudged him with his elbow, “I just think it’s funny that all of our friends have real people jobs, or at least auditions or grad school lined up and we don’t.”

“Hm.” Jongho looked at him, “Do you want a boring desk job?” 

“Hell fucking no. I’d rather die.” 

Jongho chuckled, “I’ll sing at your funeral, don’t worry.”

“Good. You better let me die before you.” Mingi fixed him with a serious expression, “I don’t know what I’d do if I had to live life without you, Jjong. I’m your elder, you have to listen to me on this one.”

“We’ll be in the same nursing home together, don’t even worry. If I feel like I’m going to die first, I’ll just murder you real quick.”

“Okay, good, thank you.” Mingi sighed, genuinely relieved at the thought of it, “And make sure they get us plots next to one another at the cemetery.”

Jongho gave him a disgusted look, “Ew, no, I want to be cremated. Whoever survives the longest from our group - Yeosang, I assume - has to put us side by side on his mantle, though.”

“Deal.” Mingi agreed. 

December 13th

Mingi’s thumb hovered over the text box on his phone, typing and re-typing before finally sending the text. 

Me

I have a very specific priest-related favor to ask.

Father Daddy Yunho

I thought you’d never ask. 

What’s up?

Me

My therapist told me to go talk to my dead friend

I don’t want to do it alone

Father Daddy Yunho

I’m free after 3pm

Meet me at the rectum?

**RECTORY 

Dear god, I should really proof-read before sending texts

Me

Buy me dinner first

I’ll see you at your rectum at 3:30pm

Father Daddy Yunho

Ha! Happened to you, too!

Me

No, I typed exactly what I meant to, Father

Father Daddy Yunho

I’m throwing my phone away now.

See you soon

Mingi knocked on the door of the rectory at 3:30pm sharp. He had barely started putting his hand down when it swung open. 

“Hiya!” Yunho chirped, looking a little too peppy for the task at hand.

Mingi couldn't help but smile at the cute look on the priest's face, his eyes crinkled at the corners, “Hi, Father.” He simpered, laying it on a little thick, unable to resist.

“Bye.” Yunho pretended he was closing the door.

“No, wait!” Mingi stopped him, “I'll be good, I promise!” 

Yunho closed the door behind himself, “Very well. Shall we?” 

The walk to the park wasn't a long one, but it felt especially quick given how easy it felt to be around Yunho. He was quick-witted and funny, sometimes verging on cheesy, but fun to talk to, keeping Mingi on his toes in a way that made him feel like he had just hopped off a rollercoaster. Alive, heart pumping, cheeks hurting from laughter, hair swept back from the wind. Once they found Mingi’s favorite park bench overlooking the pond, he pulled noise-cancelling headphones out of his backpack, handing them to Yunho. 

“Sorry, you don't mind, do you? I'm just not ready to tell anyone besides him yet.” Mingi hoped the explanation would be good enough. 

Yunho's eyes were soft, understanding, “Of course.” He reached for them, fingers brushing Mingi’s again as he passed them over, the jolt of the contact going once again straight up Mingi’s spine. 

“Thank you.” Mingi pulled Jongho’s hoodie out of his backpack, “Can you, um. Put that on, too. I just think it will help if I feel like I'm talking to a real person.”

Yunho slipped the hoodie on, not hesitating for a second, “I'm happy to help however you need, Mingi.” He slipped on the headphones, then put the hood up over them, turning to look at Mingi and giving him a small smile and thumbs up as Mingi scrolled through songs on his phone, finally finding one he remembered Jongho liking. Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears. 

“Is it too loud?” Mingi shouted, but Yunho didn't flinch or even turn his head. 

Mingi knew he could have been faking it. He knew that the man could try to listen to his confession. But for whatever reason, he knew Yunho wouldn't. He just wasn't like that. 

Mingi couldn't deny how uncanny it was to see someone else in Jongho’s hoodie with the hood up. He understood how Wooyoung must have felt when he saw Mingi in it in his kitchen a while back. He stared at Yunho for quite a while, letting his mind fall into the illusion of it being Jongho beside him instead.

He cleared his throat, “Jongho. I-” His breath hitched, a lump forming in his throat immediately, “I'm who Tuesday cheated on you with. I'm so sorry.” His voice shook as he continued, “I should have told you immediately. I'm a horrible friend. And the fucked up thing is, I only did it because I knew you would forgive me. But then I couldn't even bring myself to ask for it. And you thought it was your fault he cheated somehow. I was just trying to test his loyalty and then it got out of hand and-” He paused as a sob caught in his throat, hearing Yunho sing the song that was playing quietly under his breath, exactly like Jongho would do if he had a song stuck in his head, “I'm just so sorry, Jongho.” He couldn't go on speaking as the tears took over. The movement of his body being racked by sobs must have caught Yunho’s attention because soon, he was being pulled into the man's warm, strong embrace. 

“Shh, Mingi, it's okay. I've got you.” Gentle hands rubbed his back, “I've got you, Mingi, you're okay.” 

Mingi composed himself enough to sniffle and croak out, “I'm sorry.” 

“No, honey, don't apologize. You're okay.” Yunho cooed. 

Mingi didn't miss the pet name, but chose to ignore it for the time being. The shock and excitement of hearing it did snap him out of his tears, though. He was used to such pet names from his friends, but this felt different. 

Honey.

He finally composed himself, sitting up enough to look into Yunho's eyes, “Thank you.”

Yunho’s breath caught as he became cognizant of their proximity, “Do you feel any better?” His eyes trailed over Mingi’s lips as he asked it. 

“I really do.” Mingi thought he might lean in and kiss him, but decided to pull back last second instead, “Maybe therapy isn't a total crock of shit.” 

Yunho did a good job of hiding his confusion, covering it with a laugh, “I'm glad you're going to therapy, Mingi. I hope it's helpful to you. I think it shows a great deal of love for yourself to seek out help when you need it.” 

“I hadn't thought about it that way.” Mingi confessed. 

“Do you not think you love yourself?” Yunho asked, his deep voice soft as silk. 

Mingi considered the question. I did just try to off myself. “I don't know. I think I'm trying to. Or I want to try. Which is better than could be said about me two months ago.” 

“Hmm.” Yunho studied him, “I think that even trying or wanting to try shows that you already do. Are you going to try, Mingi?” 

I'd do anything you asked me to.

Yunho’s expression changed to one of curiosity, like he had just witnessed something he wasn't supposed to have seen, “There! Just then. You seem like you're here with me and then I'll lose you out of nowhere. Where is it you're going?”

“I probably just had to sneeze or something.” Mingi lied, feeling cagey, like he was being backed into a corner. 

He's lost it.

“That was it again just now!” Yunho was teasing but Mingi felt the end of his nose get tickly with frustration. 

“You're being weird.” Mingi was deflecting. He just wasn't used to feeling so seen. 

Yunho’s face fell, “Sorry. I didn't mean to offend-”

“It’s fine.” Mingi snapped, “Thank you for helping me, can I have the hoodie back now? I'm ready to go home.” 

“Yeah, of course, sorry…” Yunho trailed off, looking embarrassed that he had just gotten scolded. 

He took the hoodie off carefully, handling it like it was a sacred artifact. Which to Mingi, it was. 

“‘S fine.” Mingi mumbled as he started to put the hoodie in his backpack, but stopped as a chilly breeze blew in, deciding to wear it instead. 

They walked back to the rectory in silence, both of them evidently with a lot on their minds. 

“I actually have something for you.” Yunho said a little hesitantly as they arrived, going inside to retrieve it. 

“Um. Okay.” Mingi didn't know what to say. 

Yunho handed him a Bible, well-worn and almost excessively annotated, “I, uh. Highlighted some of my favorite parts.”

Mingi tried to refuse, “Oh, I mean, I really don't-” 

“Read it.” Yunho all but pleaded, “For me, Mingi. Trust me. I'm not trying to make you believe. It's just really well written in some parts.” 

Mingi reached up and took the book into his hands. It felt weird. Almost like he could feel the book breathe in time with Yunho. “Okay. Yes, Father.”

Yunho rolled his eyes, “You really have to stop saying that.”

“Because it turns you on?”

“Because it turns you on.” Yunho parried, eyes leveling with Mingi’s, his stare unwavering. 

Both things are true. 

Mingi blinked, not denying it. 

“Call me if you want to talk about any of it or have any questions or anything.” Yunho offered, referring to the Bible, breaking the heated silence all at once. 

“I will.” Mingi didn't know what else to say. ‘Thanks’ felt wrong because he wasn't quite sure he was thankful for the book. “Thanks again for going with me today. I'll, um. See you.” 

“Anytime. Really. Bye, Mingi.” Yunho looked like he didn't really want him to go. “Be safe.” 

Holy shit he was not joking. 

Mingi felt scandalous as he lay in bed, reading some of the most toe curling, shocking, dark and sexy literature he'd ever read in his life. From what was supposed to be a holy book. 

He didn't hesitate to call when he needed context for a particular story. Or, maybe he just wanted to hear Yunho’s voice. 

“Mingi.” Yunho answered the phone, though it was past his bedtime, voice raspy with drowsiness. 

“So what's the significance of washing feet? It seems kinky to be honest.” 

Yunho chuckled, “I'm sure it easily could have been. It's a sign of respect. Reverence. Mary Magdalene didn't have the proper supplies but she was determined to do it. She presented herself to him anyway. Worshipped him with what she had. Judgement from others be damned, she did it with the faith that Jesus would understand and not be so caught up in the how but instead understanding of the why.”

“A calculated risk.” Mingi thought he understood.

“Yes.” Yunho's breath picked up slightly on the other end of the line, “A surrender.” 

Mingi couldn’t help that he was getting aroused at Yunho's words and his voice. He let out a tiny whimper unwittingly, touching himself through his boxers.

“I think I understand her.” Mingi confessed. 

Mingi heard a faint rustling - bedsheets, he assumed - on the other line before Yunho spoke again, deep voice barely above a whisper, “How so?”

“I just…” He took a shaky breath, “Sometimes I wish someone would just tell me what to do. I fucked it up for so long on my own. I think it would be nice for someone else to take the reins for me.”

“Mingi-” Yunho spoke his name like a prayer. “Say what you’re asking of me. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please. Tell me what to do, Father.” Mingi exposed his desires, laying himself naked at Yunho’s feet.

Metaphorically.

He palmed himself harder, not giving himself the satisfaction of skin to skin contact yet. 

Yunho hesitated, taking an excruciatingly long deep breath, before finally, “That’s it, very good. I knew you could say it. Are you already touching yourself, Mingi?”

“Not yet,” Mingi whined, “I'm trying to be good.”

“Good boy.” Yunho growled, “Just do what I say, okay?” 

Fucking hell.

“Okay.” 

“‘Okay?’” Yunho sounded put out, “Do I need to teach you manners, too, darling?” 

“No, sir.” Mingi’s considerable length was threatening to rip a hole through his boxers, “Sorry… Father. I'll be good.” 

“I know you will. You're already so responsive. I can hear your breath shaking. Why don't you show me how much you like this, hm? Take your underwear off for me, gorgeous.” 

“Yes, sir.” Mingi obeyed, then decided to pop his airpods at the last second, knowing he would want to be hands-free at some point. 

“Let me see. I bet you're already leaking just at the sound of my voice, aren't you?” 

Mingi whimpered at the truth of it, turning on his lamp to get the lighting right as he fisted his throbbing cock, making sure to capture the glint of the shiny pearl of pre-cum already having had gathered at the tip. “Yes, sir. Just look.” He sent the photo. 

He swore he heard Yunho muffle a whine on the other line, “Christ, Mingi, what the hell am I going to do with you?” It was rhetorical, but Mingi answered anyway. 

“Cum with me, I hope.” 

Yunho laughed, the sound of it strained as Mingi could hear the slick noise of lube being applied in the background, “Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. I plan on it. Go ahead and touch yourself. Close your eyes and listen to my voice. I want you to pretend that's my hand that's stroking your pretty cock, baby.” 

“Yes, sir.” Mingi whined as he spit into his hand and grasped himself genuinely, working the pre-cum that had spilled out down his length for extra lubrication. 

“I love how you sound, honey.” Yunho groaned, “Such sweet noises from that pretty mouth of yours.” His voice was becoming strained, “I've thought about your lips since I met you. How plush they are. How they'd feel on mine.” 

Mingi’s pace quickened at the man's words. Every nerve on fire, senses alight. “Please, I want that so bad, Yunho.” 

“How they would feel wrapped around my cock.” He gasped on the other line. 

“Please, I'll do anything-”

“Tell me how my hand feels around you, baby.” Yunho instructed. 

“You feel incredible, Yunho. I'm- I'm getting close.” Mingi’s hips bucked and he knew he wouldn't last long. 

“Fuck, Mingi.” Yunho whined, “Me, too.” 

“Wish you were here.” Mingi all but sobbed.

“I know. I know, I do, too.” Yunho panted, “Go ahead and let go for me, angel. Cum all over my hand.” 

Mingi let out a noise that would make a nun faint and a seasoned war veteran blush, releasing endless amounts of thick, hot liquid onto his hand and stomach, breathing hard from the effort, calling out, “Yunho-” at his release.

“Mingi-ahh!” Yunho echoed him. Mingi knew he would become easily addicted to the sound of the man’s pleasure if he ever got to hear it again. 

“Thank you.” Mingi said, catching his breath, voice sounding small, sated. 

“No, thank you, jagi. You were so good for me, honey.” Yunho, too, was out of breath as he praised him from the other line, “Are you okay? That wasn't too much?”

“It was so good, Yunho.” Mingi breathed, “I feel safe with you.” He couldn’t believe he admitted it. 

“Mmh, I'm so glad, baby.” Yunho's voice was warm on the other line, so close that Mingi could almost feel him in the room with him. 

“Yunho?” 

“What is it, sweetheart?” Yunho’s dulcet tones soothed Mingi’s nerves like a balm. 

“Can you. Um.” Mingi swallowed, “Nevermind.”

“No, what is it, angel? Do you want me to stay on while you fall asleep?” Yunho sounded so concerned, so sweet. 

“Is that too much to ask?”

“No, of course not. I'm happy to do it. I enjoy any time I get to spend with you, Mingi.” Mingi's heart warmed at the vulnerability of the statement. 

“Me, too, Yunho.” He smiled, finished cleaning himself and curled up into bed, fluffy duvet falling over his shoulder, half wishing Yunho was there behind him. 

“Sleep well, Mingi.” Yunho yawned, “Sweet dreams.” 

“Goodnight, Yuyu.” Mingi was only half-conscious of letting the nickname slip out. 

“Mmh.” Yunho sighed, “What am I going to do with you, Mingi.” 

But Mingi was already asleep. 

December 19th

Mingi sank down once again onto his therapist's couch, feeling a little nervous, but also excited to report that things had gone well talking to his friend last week. And it was true. Mingi had to admit that he had felt somewhat of a weight off of his shoulders after confessing.

Maybe the Catholics are onto something. 

“I'm expecting an A+.” Mingi quipped as his therapist entered the room. 

She tried to maintain her professional air but Mingi caught the slight upward curl of her lip, clearly amused, “I'm sorry, Mingi, I don't give out grades. But I'm assuming that means you did your ‘homework’ as you called it?” 

“I did.” Mingi nodded. 

“How do you feel afterwards?” She asked, leaning forward. 

“I feel… like it was the right thing to do.” He sighed, “I had a new friend - well, I’m not sure I can really call him a friend, but that’s all he can be - help me out. I’ve been trying to ask for help when I need it. It’s hard for me, but I’m doing it. I just feel so embarrassed when I do ask for it. But this new friend of mine… I don’t mind asking him for help. I want him to help me. I want, like, a lot of things from him, though.” Mingi felt that he was rambling, stopping himself before he said something he wasn’t even ready to admit to himself. 

“Hmm.” His therapist had been taking notes, but stopped to meet his eye, “When you said all you could be is friends, what does that mean?”

“He’s a priest.”

Her eyes went wide, something that Mingi found amusing, knowing how hard she tried to keep a poker face with him, “So it’s forbidden.”

“Sacrilege, yes.” 

“That’s part of what appeals to you about it, though.” It was technically a question but she said it as a statement. 

“I, um.” Mingi felt himself become a little overwhelmed, “I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that. But yes, I’m sure it plays a part.” He knew she was right as soon as she had said it. 

“And it’s mutual?”

Mingi’s ears went hot at the thought of just how mutual it had been the other night.

If only she knew.

“It’s definitely mutual.” He confirmed, hoping he wasn’t being too candid. 

"We're supposed to be talking about your suicide attempt." She fixed him with a stony expression.

"Aw, come on, please let me talk about boys!" He whined.

“Well, okay. Next time.” She considered, “You’re both adults. He knows the risks as much as you do. As long as it’s consensual and enjoyable and you are fully aware that there’s a significant if not one-hundred percent chance that he’s going to choose God over you in the end, I don’t really see how it’s an issue. If you think you can handle it, emotionally. See where it goes.”

“I’m not sure I can handle it. But I also don’t think I can handle not trying to explore it.” 

“Ah, yes, isn’t that Tennyson? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’” She quoted a line from a poem Mingi vaguely thought he had heard before. Regardless, it fit exactly how he was feeling about everything. “Yeah. I think that’s it exactly. I’ve had that mindset for a long time, actually. But before I got to the point where I wanted to end things, it came from a different place.”

“How so?” 

“I guess because it was never mutual before. I would follow any thread pretty recklessly, knowing how I would be left on the other side, but going anyway. Fully cognizant of the fact that these whims had no concern for my well-being. I think it was a form of self-flagellation. But now that I’m learning to love myself, it’s different, I guess. It’s safe to love the priest because it has to end, not because it won’t. The predetermination of it is the perfect out.”

She studied him, absorbing what he had just said, “I think you’re too self-aware for your own good, Mingi.” She smiled, a first, “Why do you think you find comfort in the fact that it has to end?”

Mingi chuckled, “I don’t know. I think because I’m not ready to do anything more than microdose love. At least not yet. And I can also tell that this is going to set the standard for me going forward.” 

“But you’re still hesitating. Why?”

“I’m fucking scared. I’m half convinced I’m lying to myself about every justification I just gave you.” Mingi let his head tip back to the back of the couch, emotionally exhausted. 

“I think you’ve already made up your mind about it, though. And if you want my two cents, which, I’m assuming you do, I think it’s okay to be scared. It’s good to do scary things. Within limits, of course. But I think letting yourself be loved, even briefly, and although yes, very scary, it’s still a beautiful thing.” 

“I thought you would try to stop me.” Mingi raised an eyebrow at her. 

“I fear that only would have driven you towards it faster. Plus, it’s not my job to try to stop you. It’s my job to help you through it.” 

I’m going to fuck the hot priest.

December 24th

It had been a few days since he had heard too much from Yunho, at least outside of the few texts they sent back and forth each day. His therapist’s words rattled around in his head the whole time. He’d been doing a lot of letting himself be seen lately and it wasn’t the easiest, but at least he paid her for it. When it was Yunho, it felt raw, exhilarating. 

The bar was closed for Christmas - and it was still rather early in the morning - so Mingi was home, and very surprised when his phone buzzed. 

Father Daddy Yunho 

I have a very specific priest-related crisis that I need your help with, please

Me

An in-person emergency?

Father Daddy Yunho

Yes, please hurry. 

I’ll order coffee if you pick it up on your way over.

Did I mention pretty please? 

Me

Only because you asked so nicely. 

Mingi struggled to knock with two large coffees in his hand, but luckily, Yunho was antsy and had been waiting for his arrival. 

“Oh my god, my hero!” Yunho praised him as he entered, taking his coffee cup from Mingi. 

They hadn’t talked much about their activities the other night, but it didn’t really bother Mingi, mostly because Yunho hadn’t just completely ghosted him and had treated him as normal as things had ever been between the two of them in the days following. 

“What’s this emergency?” Mingi asked, making himself at home on the couch. 

Yunho blushed and Mingi had to restrain himself from launching himself at the man and kissing his rosy cheeks to make the blush even worse. “I’m way overthinking it, but I need help choosing which vestment and chasuble to wear for the Christmas Eve service tonight.” 

Mingi’s face lit up, “Fashion show!” He giggled, watching Yunho’s face crack open with a smile at his excitement. 

Yunho looked good in everything, and Mingi told the man as much as he showed him option after option while they drank their coffees and chatted about nothing. But the dark green robes with cream and gold accents were so lovely on him that Mingi declared them the winners. 

“For someone who claims to not be religious, you sure do seem nervous for tonight.” Mingi chided him lightheartedly. 

“I’m not religious.” Yunho looked at him seriously, his eyes seeming to search Mingi’s for some sign of understanding.

“And I’m still fascinated by that claim.” Mingi replied, settling into the couch, waiting for an explanation. 

Yunho crossed over and sat down next to Mingi on the couch, “I grew up hating everything about religion. Catholicism, in particular. I still am very critical of it. For me, being a priest is like a vegan who chooses to work in a slaughterhouse because they trust themselves to be more humane in the animal’s last moments than someone else would be. Sacrificing their morals in order to save them. If I weren’t in this position, someone else would be, and at least I can trust myself to not be the stereotype of a Catholic priest.”

Mingi considered this, “Well, don’t they say the last person who would ask for power is the first person who should be given it? I think that it’s admirable of you, Yunho.”

Yunho smiled, but his eyes still held something Mingi couldn’t quite put a finger on, “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say. But in all honesty, Mingi, I don’t know what I would have done, don’t know what would have happened, had I not chosen this path. I…” He took a deep breath, finding Mingi’s eyes once again, “I have a very addictive personality, Mingi. This was the only way I felt like I could trust myself. And it’s worked, so far.”

“So far.” Mingi echoed him, studying every single square inch of his face, suddenly hit with the realization that he wouldn’t have forever with the man beside him to ever fully memorize it. Mourning what he had yet to lose. 

“You scare the shit out of me, Mingi.” Yunho confessed, hand finding Mingi’s own, thumb tracing softly over his knuckles. 

Mingi swallowed, feeling like he had just been hit with a truck at the confirmation that Yunho had it just as bad for him. He drew his hand back, “Maybe we…” He tried to blink back the tears he could feel pricking at the corners of his eyes, “I’m sorry, it’s all too much, I have to go. I’m sorry, Yunho.”

Yunho looked like a puppy who had just been kicked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s not your fault, I promise. I’m just- It’s just too much right now…”

“I understand.” Yunho cast his eyes down to the floor, “I’ll leave you alone, Mingi. I’m sorry.” 

Mingi turned and stood up, heading out the door without a backwards glance as his tears finally began to fall. 

December 30th

Mingi dreaded tonight. Rehearsal dinner. He was so excited and happy for Hongjoong and Seonghwa, of course. Happy to see his friends. But he knew Yunho would be there, and they hadn’t talked since Christmas. 

Mingi had gone to Christmas mass the next night. He watched from a pew at the very back as Yunho spoke, followed along the best he could to all the standing and kneeling and singing. He was mesmerized by all of it. Yunho was good at his job. He had made eye contact with Mingi from his spot at the pulpit, and his gaze said more than his words. He looked apologetic. Mingi realized he would never try to convince the man to leave the church for him. That was where he belonged. 

It didn’t help him stop yearning for him, though. In fact, it made it all the worse. 

Besides the night he had seen Yunho in his Spiderman pajamas, and his brief donning of Jongho’s hoodie, tonight was the first time Mingi had seen him in regular street clothes. 

A dark blue sweater that made his eyes look an even more rich chestnut brown, slacks and loafers. It was nothing crazy but still. 

Salt in the wound. Unable to stop the visions of the two of them together just living a normal life. Domestic bliss. A dream that would never be actualized. 

To make things even worse, Yunho seemed to be trying to spare him that night. Intentionally ignoring Mingi, avoiding eye contact.  

He left early, while Mingi was in the bathroom. 

Bastard. 

Mingi had manners and waited until everyone else was leaving, said proper goodbyes, Wooyoung and San keeping an eagle eye on him. 

“Everything okay, Mingi?” Wooyoung asked as he hugged him bye. 

Mingi sighed, “It’s kind of a long story.”

San smiled gently at him, “We’re all ears if you need to talk about it.” 

He looked between his two friends, reminding himself of the promise he had made, “I’m sort of in love with the priest.”

Wooyoung and San made identical shocked faces, the former snapping out of it to start barraging him with questions, “Are you guys together? You’re not going to make him lose his job, right? Is it mutual?!” 

Mingi groaned, “Ugh, no. We’re not together. It’s absolutely mutual. Not that either of us have said it. We both know how it will end. But we both want to do something about it. Like. Bad. Something besides the phone sex.” 

San high-fived him, “Hell yeah, nice.”

Wooyoung glowered at his boyfriend, “You both are such bros sometimes, it’s hard to remember you’re bisexual.” 

Mingi and San looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh. Wooyoung rolled his eyes, “Mingi. I’m sure you’ve already made up your mind. And judging by the way he completely ignored you tonight, I’m sure Yunho is on the same page.”

“He’s right.” San nodded, “Just please, don’t take it too hard on the other side. And remember we’re here for you. Don’t you dare start isolating again when this inevitably ends like I’m sure you’re both well aware it will.” 

“I know.” Mingi sighed. As much as he knew that logically, there was only one way things between he and Yunho could end, there was still the smallest glimmer of delusional hope that reared its ugly head every single time the inexorable end was mentioned. “I promise, I won’t try to deal with the aftermath alone. You guys just have to promise you won’t hate me if I’m mopey and miserable for a little while.”

Wooyoung scoffed, “Mingi, we could never hate you. There’s no reality where you’re too much for us. I know we didn’t have the best way of showing it, but I promise you, we love you so much and we want to be there for you. Just like I know you want to be there for us.” 

“It’s what family is for.” San agreed. Mingi couldn’t help but feel his heart warm at his wording. Really, they were his family. He was finally starting to believe they always would be. 

“I love you guys.” Mingi admitted, hugging them tight before darting off towards the fate that awaited him at his favorite priest’s living quarters. 

“Good luck!” They called after him. 

Mingi arrived to the rectory out of breath and sweating under the layers he was wearing. 

It felt like an eternity after he knocked before the door swung open, revealing a red-nosed, puffy eyed Yunho.

“Mingi, you shouldn't be here.” Yunho couldn’t even look Mingi in the eye when he said it. 

“I’ll leave. If you actually want me to.” Mingi took a step closer, removing his coat and scarf, tossing them inside, all but demanding to be let it. 

Yunho sighed, moving out of the doorway, closing the door softly behind Mingi. Clicking the lock into place. 

“Are you finished ignoring me now?” Mingi asked, edging closer to Yunho's personal space. 

The priest finally leveled his eyes to Mingi’s, “I could never ignore you, Mingi.” He moved microscopically closer, the air between them sparking with electricity, “I was trying to make it easier on you. Given how you left the other day. I didn't want to push your boundaries.” 

Mingi leaned further in, “You scare the hell out of me, Yunho.” He quoted the man back to himself, “Yet here I am. I can't stay away. I've read the book. I know the end.”

Yunho’s eyelids fluttered as he reached forward, taking Mingi's hand in his own, bringing it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle slowly. 

“Like a lamb to slaughter.” Yunho whispered, his breath tickling the back of Mingi’s hand. 

“No,” Mingi gasped as Yunho worked his way up the inside of his forearm, “No, I feel like a lamb who trusts his shepherd. But neither of us can help that we're surrounded by wolves.” 

“Blind faith.” Yunho's voice was deep, unwavering. 

“Isn't that the only way to reach heaven?” Mingi asked. 

Yunho placed Mingi’s hand that he was still holding onto his chest. Mingi could feel his heart beat through the fabric of his sweater, perfectly in time with his own. The priest leaned in, lips barely whispering over Mingi’s as he spoke, “You'll let me take you there?” 

Mingi felt the desire for the man in front of him in every fiber of his being, “Please, Yunho.” 

Time stood still as Yunho pressed his lips to Mingi’s for the first time. They were soft and warm, reverent as they explored him. There was something desperate about how they slotted together, savoring each movement, neither of them in a rush, despite the knowledge that they were on borrowed time. 

Mingi felt like he had just jumped off a cliff. Free falling. Yunho would catch him, he knew. Even if it was brief. His feet would hit the ground hard, come morning. But tonight he would relish in the exhilaration. The head rush of lying prostrate at the feet of the man with whom he was in love, but would never have the privilege of loving. 

The kiss deepened, heads turning to the side for better access, bodies pressing together, desperate to feel, to touch. To worship. 

A soft moan escaped Mingi’s lips as Yunho guided his tongue inside to explore the other's mouth. Mapping it out, committing it to memory. Mingi's hands found purchase in the silky hair at the nape of Yunho's neck, fingernails scraping lightly at his scalp. He thought he might die at the noise that left the man’s mouth at his touch. It was almost too much. Mingi felt his head starting to swim and pulled back to catch his breath. 

He was caught off guard, though he shouldn't have been, at how beautiful Yunho looked with flushed cheeks and plump, parted lips, blood red and shiny with spit. 

“You okay?” Yunho asked gently, caressing Mingi’s face softly with his elegant hands. 

Mingi shivered at his feather light touch, “I just needed a second.” 

Yunho peered straight into his soul, a feeling with which Mingi was becoming familiar. “Come sit down.” He backed away, leading Mingi by his hand to the couch. 

Mingi sat, peering up at Yunho through his eyelashes, waiting for further instruction. 

Yunho dipped down and kissed him sweetly on his forehead, “You trust me?”

“Fully.” Mingi breathed. 

“I'll be right back.” Yunho stood, heading into his kitchen. 

Mingi heard the water running in the sink and couldn't help but be curious. 

Yunho arrived a few moments later with an intricately designed metal basin full of warm water, soap and a couple of towels in hand. Mingi was speechless. He could have giggled, been embarrassed, felt too shy or silly to continue. He would have, had it been anyone else kneeling in front of him. Yunho’s sweater was rolled up to his elbows and Mingi couldn’t help but study his forearms and hands as he placed the towel and water basin down in front of Mingi, light blue veins prominent on the backs of his lovely hands, beautifully landscaped under soft, flawless skin. 

Yunho reached forward and rolled Mingi’s pants legs up with deft fingers. He leaned forward as he lifted Mingi’s left leg, pausing with it in front of him, practically bowing down as he began kissing softly from his ankle up to his calf, his lips barely ghosting over Mingi’s skin. He released his foot into the water, which was the perfect temperature, before moving on to the next one. Mingi’s head tipped back and his eyes closed at the intimacy of it. But as he felt Yunho’s hands find his left foot once more, lifting it so he could wash it properly, he opened them to watch, not wanting to miss a moment of the man’s act. Yunho’s brow was ever so slightly furrowed in concentration as he massaged Mingi’s feet with soapy hands. He was so beautiful, a face to match the quality of his heart. Mingi’s own heart ached, and he let it. Determined to be present for every emotion that overcame him, at least this once. Just this one night. 

Being worshipped. It was the most mind-bending experience of Mingi’s life. Feeling both worthy yet completely undeserving of it simultaneously. A miracle that someone would display such devotion to him. A miracle that he would let himself allow it. Jeong Yunho, a miracle. 

Yunho lifted Mingi’s feet out of the water as he finished, moving the basin over so he could dry them off. 

“Thank you.” Yunho whispered, leaning forward to kiss the inside of Mingi’s knee, resting his head there for a second as he fixed his gaze on Mingi’s face. 

“I should be thanking you.” Mingi blinked, shocked that he was the one being thanked, “Can I wash yours as well?”

Yunho shook his head, “No, Mingi. Thank you. But let me take care of you tonight. Please.” He stood up, pulling Mingi to his feet as well, “Can you do that for me, jagiya?” He touched Mingi’s cheek, and Mingi felt himself lean into it. 

“Yes. I want that, Yunho.” Mingi met his eye, “Please.” He let the word hover in the air.

Yunho smiled, “Follow me.” 

Mingi was led to a part of the rectory he had never seen before. A small, cozy bedroom in the hallway behind the kitchen. The bedroom was exactly what one might picture a bedroom in a Catholic church to look like. Mingi highly doubted Yunho had chosen much of the decor, certainly not the four-poster bed. Yunho led him over, stopping at the side of the bed to pull Mingi in for another kiss, his hands reaching up to start unbuttoning Mingi’s dress shirt, then followed with his own sweater. Mingi gaped at the priest’s body, looking like it could just as easily be carved from marble as it could be skin. But unlike a statue, he was soft and warm to the touch. They couldn’t stop their hands from skimming over one another’s bodies, touching everywhere that they could reach.

Yunho revered his body, fingertips lightly skimming over his hips working upwards, back to Mingi’s face, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

Yunho broke the kiss long enough to asess Mingi’s body, “Oh, angel, you’re so beautiful.” He reached down to begin unbuckling Mingi’s belt, “I need to see all of you.”

Mingi opened his mouth to reply but his brain went blank as Yunho guided his pants off and returned, fingers lightly grazing Mingi’s cock, which was quickly filling with blood at his touch. He whimpered as his boxers were pulled off and he was finally free, no more uncomfortable tightness. 

“You’re so lovely.” He leaned in, kissing across Mingi’s jaw, causing him to have to latch on to Yunho’s hips with his hands for balance, breath sucked out of his lungs at Yunho’s attention, “So reactive.” Yunho smiled into Mingi’s neck, then pulled back to work his own pants and underwear off. Mingi would have tried to get them off sooner, but Yunho had requested he be the one to do the caretaking, and for once in his life, Mingi wanted to do exactly as he was told. 

Yunho walked him back a couple of steps until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, “Why don’t you lay down, Mingi? Get comfortable.”

Mingi situated himself in the middle of the bed, head on the pillows, propped up enough to where he didn’t have to strain his neck to watch whatever Yunho planned to do to him. 

Yunho placed lube and condoms within reach on the bed, then crawled in between Mingi’s legs, lifting his feet one at a time and placing the soles down flat on the mattress before slowly starting to kiss up the inside of his legs once more, nipping and marking him occasionally as he went. Mingi felt his dick hit his stomach, now painfully hard. Yunho pulled his lips off a particularly tender spot on his inner thigh, soothing the mark he had made with his tongue before leaning forward, hovering over Mingi to kiss him again, wrapping his long fingers around the other’s wrists, pinning his arms up by his head as he began kissing his way down his neck, then chest, lips landing on Mingi’s erect nipple, pulling it into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before letting go and moving to the next one. Mingi gasped at the sensation. 

Yunho laughed sweetly into his skin, lips popping off of his nipple as he spoke, “So sensitive, baby. I love it. Wanna hear you keep making those pretty noises for me.”

“Yes, sir.” Mingi whined, “I will.” 

“Such a good boy.” Yunho praised as he sat up to apply lube to his fingers. “Mmh, god, look at you. I want to devour you.” His eyes were on Mingi’s cock when he said it, but it was still a surprise when he leaned down to lick a stripe up the underside of Mingi’s throbbing dick, flicking his tongue as he reached the tender underside of the head.

Mingi whimpered, “Fuck, please, Yunho.”

“Shh,” Yunho quieted him, “There’s no rush, darling. I want to make you feel so good.” His finger started tracing circles around Mingi’s rim, “You still trust me to do that, right?”

“God-” Mingi gasped as Yunho’s tongue found the tip of his cock again, “Fuck. Yes, sir. I trust you.”

“Good,” Yunho’s finger began applying pressure, slipping inside as Mingi relaxed, “I’m so glad.”

Mingi was right to have admired Yunho’s hands. His fingers were incredible, long with prominent knuckles, reaching deep inside of Mingi, the sensation almost being too much to handle. As Yunho worked his second finger inside, his mouth found the head of Mingi’s leaking cock once again, taking it inside, moaning at how Mingi filled him up. Both men were large. Mingi was glad for Yunho’s fingers after seeing just how stuffed full of Yunho he would be very soon. Yunho’s fingers found Mingi’s prostate, applying pressure there in time with the bobbing of his head as he sucked Mingi’s cock down, acting more protestant than priest in that moment. 

“Yunho, ‘m gonna cum if you keep doing that!” Mingi warned as his hips bucked in response to the attention Yunho was giving him. 

Yunho pulled off, the release of his mouth off of Mingi’s dick making a faint pop noise, “Well, we can’t have that yet, can we?” He added a third finger, scissoring them open to ensure Mingi was fully prepped to take him. 

“No, please, not yet. Want you inside.” Mingi almost felt panicked at the idea of cumming without Yunho buried deep inside of him. 

Yunho smiled, reaching for the condom, “As you wish.” 

“Wait,” Mingi stopped Yunho as he tried to rip the packet open, “I’m clean, I swear. Can I please take you raw?”

Yunho growled, “Fuck, Mingi, you must be trying to kill me.” But despite his words, he tossed the condom to the side and reached for the lube instead, “I’d love to, honey.” 

Yunho lined himself up, leaning down to kiss Mingi again before he began his slow venture inside.

It was unlike any feeling Mingi had ever had in his life. Completely at Yunho’s mercy. Surrendering himself. The sensation of being filled, split in half, washed over him, tears spilling out of the corners of his eyes as Yunho finally, decadently, buried himself to the hilt. “God, Mingi, you took me so well, darling.” He kissed the tears off of Mingi’s cheeks, “Still doing okay?”

“I’m perfect.” Mingi sighed, overwhelmed at how content he felt as he was speared within an inch of his life. 

“I think that might actually be true.” Yunho muttered, “You feel like you were made for me. Can I move now?”

“Yes, god, please move, Yunho.” Mingi begged. 

The first pump of his hips and Mingi saw stars. He savored every sensation, Yunho’s cock gliding in and out, reaching the depths of Mingi’s insides. 

Mingi canted his hips so they met Yunho’s motion in the middle, their bodies slamming together, becoming desperate in their pursuit of release. 

“Fuck, Mingi-” Yunho gasped as he fucked into him harder, motion still slow and languid, his talented fingers wrapping around Mingi’s desperate cock, stroking him in time with his hips. “Feel so good. Sucking me in like that.”

“Yunho-” Mingi moaned, lost in the sensation, “God, Yunho-yah.”

“Mmh, that’s right. Say my name, baby. I love hearing it.” Yunho’s pace quickened, highlighting his point. 

“Yunho, please,” Mingi babbled, completely cockdrunk, “Want you to fill me up. Please, Yunho-”

“Oh I will, sweetheart.” Yunho grunted, adjusting Mingi’s hips ever so slightly, getting the angle just right, “You have to cum with me though. Can you do that?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, Yunho, please.” Mingi’s voice was weak, demonstrating exactly how deprived he felt. 

“So close-” Yunho pumped his hips a few more times, harder than ever, his pace faltering, before he finally let go, “Fuck, Mingi-” 

Mingi was nothing if not obedient, crying out as he released over Yunho’s hand and his own stomach. 

Yunho slumped over Mingi as he came down, pulling out slowly before falling to the bed beside him. Mingi reached out hesitantly, not knowing exactly why he was feeling shy after having the man deep inside of him just seconds ago. Yunho smiled, sensing Mingi’s caution, wrapping his arms around him and tucking him snugly to his chest. 

“Mingi, you can touch me, honey. Come here.” He kissed Mingi’s temple, “You were amazing, baby. So perfect for me.” 

“Yeah?” Mingi asked softly, feeling a little raw after that experience. 

“Yes, angel. Was it okay? I wasn’t too rough?” Yunho asked, his voice pitching up with concern for Mingi’s well-being. 

“No, it was wonderful.” Mingi sighed, “Incredible.”

“Good.” Yunho tilted his chin up to kiss him again, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Mingi asked, not understanding. 

Yunho tucked Mingi’s head under his chin, stroking his hair, “Just… thank you. For everything. For coming into my life. For letting me into yours.” 

“I would do it all over again, Yunho. Every single time.” Mingi confessed, surprising himself with his candor. 

“Me, too, Mingi.” Yunho kissed the crown of his head, “In every lifetime.” 

They showered together afterwards, taking any last opportunity to touch one another freely, knowing their time together was ticking away faster than either of them would like, or care to admit. They didn’t acknowledge it, not outright. But it was understood by both of them that it was best to not worry about it before it happened. 

Back in bed together, limbs tangled, breath soft on one another’s skin as they relaxed into the embrace, Mingi couldn’t help but breach the silent contract they had made.

“Yunho?” He dared to whisper. 

"Hm?"

“That story about Lot’s wife and how she was told not to look back as she left Sodom and Gomorrah, lest she be turned into a pillar of salt?” 

Yunho nodded, “What about it?”

“I keep thinking about it. I already know I’m going to look, too. I won’t be able to help it, Yunho.” He drew the priest closer to himself, though it was nearly impossible to do so, considering how tightly they were clinging to one another already.

Yunho traced soft, comforting patterns over Mingi’s back, “I know, Mingi. I won’t either.”

Neither of them dared to elaborate further before letting themselves fall asleep. They didn’t need to. They understood each other perfectly as it was. 

December 31st

It was a beautiful wedding. Mingi let himself be pulled into the joy of it all that day, concentrating on anything that offered itself up. Anything to take his mind off of the fact that this was the last time he would see Yunho. Hard to do when he was the star of the show during the ceremony. He looked beautiful up there, at the flower adorned pulpit, wearing the same dark green robes as he had worn for Christmas, this time with a slightly different chasuble, this one embroidered with wildflowers in every color. A subtle hint to a rainbow, if Mingi had to guess. Sweet of him, really. 

“When I first met Hongjoong and Seonghwa, heard the story of how they met, how their love developed and turned into what it is today, I knew that the tired Bible verses everyone uses for weddings wouldn’t be suitable. ‘Love is patient, love is kind…’ and yes, don’t get me wrong. This couple demonstrates great patience and kindness to one another. But love is also vulnerable. It’s terrifying. It’s not only a feeling, but also a verb. As you fall deeper into it, you start to build a contract with one another. Committing to act on that love again and again, circumstances be damned. Love isn’t something weak people do.” Yunho’s eyes found Mingi’s in the front row pew at that sentence. “Life may get hard, but the love itself has to come easily. And after spending time with the couple here in front of me today, I can say without a shadow of a doubt, that these two are built for it.” 

Yeosang looked up at Mingi from his position beside him, seeing the tears roll freely down his face, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze before lacing his fingers into Mingi’s own. Mingi knew he understood. Wooyoung and San are bad at keeping secrets. But he was okay with the fact that his friends knew. Happy for it, even. He would be needing them. 

“I’ve seen it in the little things, like how Seonghwa makes sure that Hongjoong has eaten. Or how Hongjoong makes Seonghwa laugh with only a certain look in his eye. But it’s also in the big things. Through life events that easily could have torn them apart. They weathered the storms and came out on the other side stronger. These two here before me today are some of the most brave and courageous people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. I’m beyond happy to declare them husbands.” 

Cheers and applause echoed off the stone walls of the church, Mingi’s amongst them. 

Mingi stepped outside of the reception, pulling his coat around his shoulders as he leaned against the wall of the building. He hadn’t told his friends he needed some air this time, but that was because he knew someone else would follow him outside. 

Yunho’s weight settled against his shoulder as he joined him against the wall. 

“You’ve really found your calling, Yunho.” Mingi complimented him. 

Yunho chuckled, “Feels more like a curse than a calling at this very moment.”

Mingi turned his head to look at the priest’s stunning profile, committing it to memory. “No, don’t think of it like that. I’m sure we’ve done this before, in a different life. I’m sure we’ll do it again in another one. Hopefully, the next.”

Yunho smiled, turning his head to meet Mingi’s gaze, “Let’s agree now to just both be accountants or something in the next one.”

Mingi laughed despite himself, fighting the urge to sink his claws into Yunho and never let go. Reach in and pluck his own rib out to breathe life into something that never had a chance in the first place. “Deal.” Mingi blinked back tears, “I love you, Yunho. For whatever it’s worth.”

“I-” 

“No.” Mingi cut him off, “Let’s just sit with that for a second. I love you.” 

The moment felt exactly like midnight in the early winter, on a night where you could tell it was going to snow. Quiet. Crisp. Still. The anticipation building slowly. 

“I love you.” Mingi repeated a third time after the moment passed.

Yunho reached up, wiping the tear that had escaped off of Mingi’s cheekbone, “It’ll pass.”

“Are you sure I can’t just shrink myself down and live inside your heart? So we could be together?” Mingi scrambled at the last minute, searching for ways to prolong this inevitable moment. 

Yunho’s eyes watered at his words, “You already do live there, Mingi. You have since I first laid eyes on you.” He pushed off the brick wall to stand in front of Mingi, letting his hand fall down to grab Mingi’s, pulling it up to kiss his knuckles once more, “I love you, too.” He dropped Mingi’s hand. “Until our next life, then.” He turned away, seeming to walk in slow motion. Mingi turned, too, walking back towards the door inside. 

He turned back.

Yunho had looked back over his shoulder. 

They held each other’s gaze for one last moment before turning once more and going their separate ways. 

Neither of them turned into pillars of salt.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Regally Smitten

a medieval minsung love story

"Han forced his eyes up to meet the prince's. And for a moment, it was like everything stood still. The birds outside no longer chirped, the rise and fall of their breath no longer came and both the men's hearts, skipped a beat for just a brief moment. And the moment, however brief it may be in reality, felt like an entire summer to Han and Minho. An entire sweltering hot summer where they both thought their bodies may burn up entirely."

A future king and his servant are bound by their forbidden love. With the odds stacked against them, and a jealous brother out for blood, will their love prevail? Or will history repeat itself?

———

Genre: angst, forbidden romance

Total Word Count: ~22.3k

Warnings: homophobia (specifically religious homophobia, this is a period piece so these beliefs are a reflection of the time period being portrayed, and the characters themselves, and do not reflect my personal beliefs. please read with caution and remember to take care of yourself. ily.) descriptions of violence, main character injury (but no main character death), foul language, suggestive themes, brief mentions of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks. one mention of suicidal thoughts (but no action)

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and in no way represents any member of stray kids in reality. this is a fanfiction and should be treated as such.

———

Chapters

1: the meeting

2: the secret

3: the sweating sickness

4: the choice

5: the coronation

6: epilogue

——

Authors Note: i have been working on this story for so long. it is my baby and the longest thing i have ever written. i worked so hard on it and i’m incredibly nervous to post it. i hope that you enjoy it and if you do, please consider reblogging, as it helps more than just likes, to push my work out to more people.

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[seongminiz]

tear Of gOd

minors dni ; fallen angel jungmo x human wonjin ; 2.1k words

SYNOPSIS    Had Wonjin not known any better, he would think what he sees when he meets Jungmo's unsettling eyes is lust. Surely, that's impossible - after all, angels don't sin, and they are absolutely not capable of committing a sin as deadly as lust, be it in or out of heaven. Or, Jungmo - Wonjin’s guardian angel - is kicked out of heaven when the obsession over his human gets out of hand, and has nowhere to go if not Wonjin himself.

cw   religious themes , blasphemy , inaccurate representation of catholicism’s views on the afterlife bc i havent been to church in almost 5 yrs , bitchless loser virgin wonjin ejejehjf , dom!jungmo , sub!wonjin , corruption kink (kinda ? idk i had the idea of writing it but idk if i actually put it in so) , handjob , orgasm denial

➔   cross-posted on ao3 !

⚠ DISCLAIMER ⚠ if you're uncomfortable with religious themes (specifically christianity in this instance) or their use in a nsfw/sexually explicit context , it's your responsibility as the reader to click off this work and go read something else . i as the author have no responsibility for your discomfort with the themes i decide to write about

note   shout out to onlyoneof for making cunty catholic guilt yaoi music so i could get through writing n find a title for this fic (˶ˆᗜˆ˵) n thank u to the loml @elifseasonz for beta reading this n supporting me through the absolute crash out that were these past 8 months of writing 🩷 i've been writing this since may 2024 - not bc its particularly long or well thought out tho , im just a terribly slow n bad writer :3 i also wrote most of it while i had the worst cold ever so .. theres that too n some parts of it r probably so rushed (oomf (= my Proof Reader™) said its fast paced </3 life is not worth living anymore /j)

Wonjin considers his life to be rather inconspicuous. He is the most average guy someone could ever meet, and it reflects on all his disastrous first dates ending with no kind of follow up. He never does anything creepy or straight up wrong, but his whole demeanor has a certain ‘I’m a loser virgin’ vibe that tends to scare away even the most desperate of his potential partners.

Jungmo, on the other hand, considers Wonjin’s life to be the finest piece of entertainment he could ever ask for. One would argue it is because that is what his whole job consists of: watching over Wonjin and his more than ordinary day-to-day life, failed dates and all.

Jungmo has never been among the most beloved angels in the ranks of Heaven, both due to his occupation - the more contact a divine being has with humans the more their existence becomes tainted and impure, making guardian angels the bottom of the holy food chain - and, more than anything, because of his tendency to defy the rules that have been imposed on him since his very first day in Heaven.

Most of it consisted in minor offenses, like sneaking to Earth without permission to go visit ‘his’ human, or almost resorting to violence that one time another angel offered to take responsibility over Wonjin instead of him; they all originated from how prone Jungmo was to sin compared to his fellow guardian angels, making him an unstable employee since his first day in Paradise, his status immediately solidified as a liability for both his and Heaven's stability.

Which is how Jungmo finds himself kicked out of Heaven, stranded in a random dark alleyway somewhere. Really, he could be anywhere.

Had he not relentlessly followed Wonjin in his every step for years, Jungmo would have no idea of where to go. Of course, it is only normal for a guardian angel to know where their human lives and be able to teleport themselves there in a matter of seconds.

Wings broken and past their first stage of decay, Jungmo uses the last remaining traces of his powers to manifest his physical form into Wonjin’s room - it takes slightly longer than he is used to, but it still can’t be more than a few minutes.

The digital clock on the bedside table reads 3:33AM, the red symbols flashing and glitching for a moment when Jungmo makes his appearance - human technology is such a fragile thing, even the dying powers of a former angel are able to put it through strain.

Wonjin has always been a heavy sleeper, struggling to wake up even when the sun is up high and his alarm has rang at least ten times.

Which makes it all the more obvious something is off that night.

He struggles to fall asleep, but chalks it up to anxiety for a major upcoming exam he has been stressing over for months; when he wakes up at three in the morning with the eerie sensation of being watched, though, he can't really blame it on his academic anxiety anymore.

His eyes slowly adapt to the darkness, a humanoid shadow standing in the far corner of his room, right beside the door.

Sleep paralysis? Likely, Wonjin thinks, but the hypothesis is quickly shut down when he finds no resistance within his body as he scrambles to grab his glasses from the bedside table and runs his hand along the wall feeling for the light switch.

Had Wonjin been in a sane state of mind, he would have screamed. Except Wonjin feels anything but sane, his mouth just hanging open in silence as he takes in the person - can he even call it that? The tattered wings sprouting from his back suggest the opposite - standing in front of him.

“What the fuck?” It’s all Wonjin can manage, his voice raspy and his throat dry - from sleep or from the shock, he isn't exactly sure.

Jungmo chuckles. He has observed his human for years, to the point he knows every little quirk, habit and shameful sin of his, but he forgot Wonjin is not familiar with his existence at all.

Without the limits of Heaven binding him to being truthful, Jungmo could simply lie about who he is, about why he is there.

Jungmo is free.

“I’m your guardian angel,” he explains. That much is not a lie, he is just omitting an irrelevant fragment of the truth.

Wonjin eyes him skeptically, fixating on his bruised skin, his bloodied clothes and, once again, his decaying wings. The originally white feathers have colored themselves of a sickly dark gray, bordering on an even darker color towards some edges, those that turn completely black falling off in the matter of minutes. A few white spots remain, but the color has started becoming more dull, dirtying itself as if infected with an incurable disease.

“I was kicked out of heaven,” Jungmo confesses, immediately continuing to not leave any room for protest from Wonjin. “Not because of my sins. I was tricked by an evil, jealous angel who blamed their mistakes on me.”

“And what do I have to do with this? Why are you in my room?” Wonjin asks bluntly.

Religion has always been a pretty neutral topic to him, he genuinely has no care for it. That odd guy might be his guardian angel, but Wonjin wants nothing to do with him.

Yet, it intrigues him. He suspects what the angel has said about being kicked out of heaven is not entirely the truth, and that only makes him want to know more about the otherworldly being standing in front of him.

“Well, I told you,” Jungmo says matter-of-factly. “You’re my human. Who else should I look for? You’re the only thing I know about this insignificant mortal world.”

“Fair,” Wonjin mutters. While he might not be completely convinced by what he says, the thought process is completely logical - excluding the whole premise of a supernatural, heavenly being appearing in his room out of nowhere. The absurdity of it all has almost slipped his mind already.

“You know, Wonjin,” Jungmo takes a step forward, and Wonjin is torn between mirroring his actions, drawn closer to the angel by an invisible force he can't quite explain, or get further away from him - though the second option proves itself to be impossible when Wonjin tries scooting back on the bed, and his back meets the headboard with a dull sound.

Jungmo looks down at Wonjin, only one step separating the two of them.

Had Wonjin not known any better, he would think what he sees when he meets Jungmo's unsettling eyes is lust. Surely, that's impossible – after all, angels don't sin, and they are absolutely not capable of committing a sin as deadly as lust, be it in or out of heaven.

“I've been watching you for so long,” Jungmo's thin, delicate fingers grasp Wonjin's jaw with such gentleness he is left doubting they are even there. The angel's pointed nails slightly digging into his skin, though, are enough of a confirmation of the touch being real.

Wonjin is not sure what he expects when Jungmo leans closer, so their faces are mere centimeters apart from each other, making it almost impossible for him to hold the angel's gaze.

Up close, Jungmo's irises are nothing but pits of pure darkness, blending with his pupils to the point the two are indistinguishable. Wonjin doesn't know the reason, but the sight makes his stomach close in on itself.

And if that alone is not enough of a reminder of Jungmo's lack of humanity, the stillness in his body is – no breathing, no heartbeat, everything about Jungmo is unmoving, eternal.

Jungmo’s lips, on the other hand, feel more alive than anything Wonjin has ever experienced.

Alive, gentle, but so desperate, as if Jungmo has been waiting for this moment ever since he laid his eyes on Wonjin.

Could that be the truth? Could he be the reason Jungmo has been banished from heaven? The thought alone makes Wonjin’s stomach churn in a mixture of fear and pride that only spurs him on to kiss Jungmo back with more fervor.

Wonjin gasps at the contact with Jungmo's cold skin, the angel's fingertips sneaking under his shirt and brushing his hips, eliciting whimpers and whines that Wonjin can't help but be slightly ashamed of.

Jungmo is skilled, far too sure in what he is doing for someone who has supposedly led a life void of sin up until that moment, and Wonjin knows that alone should raise all kinds of alarm bells and red flags in him – it does.

Wonjin knows he should be more cautious, yet he decides to ignore his own rationale, getting lost in Jungmo's lips, in his touch and in his body.

.☆⭒ ♱ ⭒☆.

“God,” Wonjin grabs Jungmo’s wrist in an attempt to slow down his motions, his fingers slipping around the angel’s cold skin as he chuckles.

“There is no god here, Wonjin,” Jungmo speeds up his pace, tightening his hold once he reaches Wonjin’s tip and loosening it every time his hand slides down to the base. “That is, unless you’re talking about me.”

Wonjin’s moans grow in volume and pitch, it’s all too much, too overwhelming, and it feels like nothing he has ever experienced before - though he is pretty sure he is about to cum at any moment. If only Jungmo tightens his fist just a little more and…

“Am I your god, Wonjin?” Jungmo suddenly stops, his hands completely leaving Wonjin’s body as he relishes in his human’s delicious whines and protests.

Jungmo brings his fingers, slick and stained in precum, to Wonjin’s chin, tilting it upwards so their eyes can meet. Any and all protests Wonjin could have die in his mouth as he once again gets lost in the endless pits that are Jungmo’s eyes.

“Answer me, Wonjin,” Jungmo whispers, leaning down to kiss along Wonjin’s jawline, until his lips are right by his ear and his free hand is barely grazing Wonjin’s cock. “Tell me I am your god, and I’ll let you cum.”

Wonjin lets out a shaky, hesitant breath, barely able to keep his eyes open as he weakly reaches for Jungmo’s hand, the angel promptly moving it further away from his cock with a smirk.

“Yes,” Wonjin is quick to force himself to answer, intertwining his fingers with Jungmo’s and pulling him closer, reaching for a kiss that Jungmo once again withholds from him.

“Yes what? I want to hear you say it.”

“You’re my god, Jungmo,” Wonjin’s voice is barely above a whisper, cracking at every other word he speaks. “My one and only god.”

Jungmo’s acknowledgement for Wonjin’s blind devotion comes in the form of his hand slipping out of Wonjin’s hold, and wrapping once again around his sensitive cock.

It doesn’t take long for Wonjin to get close again, his voice melting into an incomprehensible ramble of “I’m gonna cum” repeating until Jungmo has to shush him, reassuring him that he’s not going to rip that orgasm away from him again. A part of him is tempted to, but the need to see Wonjin finally fall apart in his hands is stronger.

“Go ahead,” Jungmo whispers, relishing in the shiver that pervades Wonjin as his hands grip Jungmo’s arms in a desperate attempt to ground himself. “Cum for your one and only god.”

Wonjin’s mind goes blank, he doesn’t know for how long. His body is still shaking once he regains enough of a sense of self to open his eyes, laying his head on Jungmo’s shoulder as he catches his breath.

Jungmo’s fingers are dripping in his human’s cum. He brings them closer to his face, inspecting the sticky substance with curiosity before hesitantly licking some of it off of his digits.

The slightly salty taste of Wonjin’s cum has Jungmo biting back a moan at the realization he’s consuming a part of him, in some twisted, fucked up way.

Jungmo wants more, but he knows Wonjin can’t handle another orgasm, so he settles for the next best thing. Is it really ‘settling’, though, when Wonjin’s lips are just as addicting, as he squeezes Jungmo’s hand in his and smiles into the kiss.

Wonjin is quick to get drowsy, pulling Jungmo under the covers and mumbling something along the lines of “Don’t you dare go anywhere” as he drifts off to sleep, his hand still gripping Jungmo’s.

Jungmo observes Wonjin’s sleeping frame, so much closer than he has ever been able to before.

The sun has started rising, shining through the sheer curtains and painting Wonjin’s beautiful features in its soft orange hues.

It’s all worth it.

Even as Jungmo’s wings rot past the point of no return, the last of his feathers falling off and shriveling into dust, into nothingness, leaving the skeletal frame sprouting from his back bare and vulnerable. Even as a pain he has never experienced before curses through him.

All it takes for Jungmo to think the eternal suffering that awaits him is worth it is a look at his lover peacefully sleeping underneath him.

im sorry this is actually so bad i cant write gay sex HOW AM I A FUJO THAT DOESN’T KNOW HOWTO WRITE GAY SEX ???!??!!???

[taschamonnii]

More Than A Woman - Part 5 (Lay All Your Love On Me) 

You x Shirley Carter (70s-80s Southern Housewife Original Character  - Elizabeth Olsen) 

Find All Parts Here

*Disclaimer/Summary: This completely Fictional Character is based on the way Lizzie plays old-fashioned Housewives. (Some inspo is taken from WandaVision, I Saw The Light, and Love & Death) This character is in no way a portrayal of any real-life people. Audrey Williams and Candy Montgomery were real people that Lizzie has portrayed for entertainment purposes in tv & film. This story is not about them. I just want to see Lizzie play a 70s-80s housewife that is secretly Gay and stuck in a religious small-town in the South. Since she has never done that but has played the part of perfect housewife I decided to make my own character.* I will be using edited pictures from the characters she has played and unaltered gifs since it's way too hard to edit those.*

Character Description since this is a made up character: mid length-wavy-dark brown hair (think more the length in I saw the Light like it falls to her collar bones but the deep dark brown from goth Wanda era, Emerald Green eyes, Wears form fitting dresses and high waisted pants and skirts.  

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Angst/Smut/Fluff

TW: SMUT, 18+, Cheating on husbands to be GAY together, 

I am so obsessed with Lizzie playing housewife that I made a playlist! More Than A Woman

AN: This is part Five to this Original Series

Word Count: 1,506

Imagine This:

“Maybe someday you could. We won’t be here forever. Theo's company estimates maybe a few years.”

Her face drops and you can see the sadness in her eyes. “Oh.”

Her eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip trembled. “No. No. Don’t cry.”

You reached for her cheek and she sat up quickly. “What the fuck Y/N?”

Angry tears raced down her cheeks and you rushed to sit up. You went to reach for her again but she swatted your hand away. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry. Shirley, I was hoping to talk to you about this differently.”

“We just. You just said you love me! We just made love Y/N! Now you are telling me what exactly?"

"I'm telling you this because I love you. Can't you see. I want you. We could be together easier in Cali."

"I can't just leave my family, Y/N. You know that."

"No, your family would come too. I want you and your girls and there is something I've been meaning to talk to you about but I think now might be a bad time.."

She raised her voice but it was still broken. "A bad time? Something worse than you moving away!?!" 

"Fuck!" You run your hands through your hair and take a deep breath. "Shirley, I don't plan on leaving you unless you want me to."

She glanced away and you could see she didn't believe you. "Huh it sounds like you are leaving me."

"I'm not."

"Then explain. What is the worst thing?"

"Well, I am not sure it's worse than you thinking I'm leaving but I just well it's complicated. I don't know how you will react."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Just say it."

"I think well Theo and I, we think John is, mmm might be, gay." 

"What?"

"It's just he cares about his appearance a lot. He, according to Theo, acts a bit shy in the bathroom and we just see it. We could be wrong. You know him best. Does he shower for longer than 10 minutes? Does he prefer fucking you from behind? Does he want to fuck you all the time or is it more special occasions?"

She looked shocked. "You and Theo think John is gay?"

"Yes and Theo has a bit of a thing for John if I'm being honest." 

"Oh my God. John has commented on Theo's appearance a few times. He actually wants us all to be friends. What the fuck? John loves me though."

"I know he does that is obvious to everyone but does he lust after you? Like how I lust after you. You know lots of staring and eye contact especially in bed. If he isn't looking at you in awe every time he fucks you then he might be picturing someone else. Have you ever pictured someone else while you have sex with him?" 

She bit her bottom lip and ran her hands through her hair then ran her hands over her face. "Oh God, is my entire life a lie?"

"No, it's just different than you thought. You love John but it's different than how you love me right?"

She nodded yes and took a deep breath. You gave her a reassuring smile. "This could be really good."

"Good."

You reach out and take her hand and she finally lets you. "Good."

She sighed and brought her free hand up to squeeze the bridge of her nose. "What am I supposed to do now Y/N?" 

"Well we take things one step at a time. Do you think that John would ever have an affair if Theo proposed one?"

She twisted her lips in thoughts. "Well if you had asked before we had this little conversation I would have said absolutely not but now I don't know how well I really know my husband." 

You nod and squeeze her hand "okay take a deep breath this is a lot." 

"You think?"

You pull her closer and wrap your hands around her. "I think maybe we should take a step back and relax." 

You kissed the side of her head and pulled her face into view so you could kiss her forehead and cheeks and chin. You capture her lips in a passionate kiss. She kisses back quickly deepening the kiss. She sucks on your bottom lip and moans into the kiss. She pushes you back and straddles your lap. Her hand travels down between the two of you. Her long fingers quickly find purchase and you throw your head back in a moan. You move your hand between you and quickly match her movements. 

She drops her head on your shoulder as her breaths heat your skin. Your movements sync as your hips chase the pleasure. She bites your neck and sucks on your skin. You dig your blunt nails into her shoulder with your free hand. 

You lose yourself in the feeling of having her inside you while being inside her. Everything feels heightened. Your bodies tighten even as you resist falling into pleasure. You want this to last and you can feel she does too. Your bodies tremble and stutter and your hips jerk against each other. You both tumble over the edge blissed out. Her full weight collapses on top of you as she breathes out. You both hold onto each other tightly like letting go would change everything. 

Things feel different and you both know that nothing will ever be the same. You breathe her in trying to memorize her sweet scent. The way her weight feels on top of you, the way she holds you tighter as she comes down from her high. You hold her tighter and kiss the skin of her shoulder and neck trying to ground yourself in her. 

Time passes and you are truly unsure how long you both lay there holding each other. Eventually your breaths even and both of your grips on each other lighten gradually. She lifts her head up and kisses your lips softly before rolling slightly off of you. She sighed out. “I don’t want to leave this moment, I don't want to face reality.”

You let out a deep sigh. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” 

“What do we do now?”

“We have time to take things slowly. Would you be okay if Theo tested the water with John? Or have you heard of swinging? We could work on developing the friendship and then propose swinging.”

“I am not sure if it brings me comfort or concern that you have really thought about all this.”

She laughs nervously and you grab and squeeze her hand. “I know it’s a lot.”

She blows out a dramatic breath letting her lips vibrate and make a cute sound. “No kidding. Uh I guess it would be good to improve our friendship as couples Theo can do whatever he wants. I have heard of swinging but it is not something that happens around here. I read about it in a magazine and was too scared to talk to John about it. I don’t know how he would react to such a thing.”

You nod and smile. “Let's just start with game nights and going on double dates things like that.”

She agreed with the nod of her head. 

>>>>

Time seemed to be on your side as things moved smoothly. Soon it became routine to see Shirley for your little afternoon delights then again at church events and what was quickly becoming more fun and easy going game nights and weekend hangouts with the Carter family. You and Theo developed a strong bond with the girls and John was easily falling into a best friendship with Theo. Flirtatious glances and fun nights as a group felt right. Things sort of fell into place. 

It didn’t take long for Theo to break through and truly connect with John. Theo helped John come into himself and see the truth. Theo even helped settle John when he told him about the love affair that Shirley had with you. Now that he knows things have gotten easier and far more fun. You can mark Shirley's delicate skin without worry and you do. You mark every inch possible. You bite and suck your marks all over her. Beyond that it has allowed for her to spend the night with you and even for you to spend the night at her house. The domesticity you craved with her is finally yours. Well mostly. There are plans for buying a house as a group in Cali so it can be more full time. 

There is love and happiness among you all and it is the most wonderful thing you have ever been a part of. You have longed for something like this your entire life and you finally have it. The future looks bright and you can’t wait to return to Cali and live free and easy and fall asleep with Shirley in your arms every night and wake her every morning. 

A/N: Sorry this is so short but it is wrapping up. There will be one more, probably short as well, part that shows them all in the future. I hope you all have enjoyed this silly little story that was solely inspired by the way Elizabeth Olsen plays these types of 70s & 80s Housewife characters. I have had a hard time figuring out how to end this but I knew when I started I wanted it to be light and fun. We need more movies and shows where Lizzie’s character is not a sad girl even though I love all her sad girl characters. 

[inawordaverage]

disclaimer: OPINION, FAMILY ISSUES, RELIGIOUS DISCUSSION. I don't intend to put forth any hate speech towards any belief in this post. It is simply an expression of how I perceive my past experiences.

This one's gonna be VERY long.. and there's a good chance it's not going to be seen by many.. but this is an okay spot to get it off my chest, I suppose. Thank you for listening.

To put it simply, I feel like I will be behind in life until the day I die. And no, it's not because I've decided not to go to college. It's because I have missed many of the world's major turning points.

A small example: you can ask me if I've seen a movie, regardless of its popularity, and nine times out of ten the answer will be no. A larger example: you can ask me what happened during Obama's presidency (the entirety of which I was alive for, of course), and I can tell you nothing except that his name was spoken with venom throughout our church.

The history of the world, and of internet itself - a concept that has been familiar to most of my peers for most of my life - is still something that I will never fully grasp, because I was not allowed to participate in it at all.

My life, until I was sixteen years old, mainly consisted of three things: school, church, and home. Anything outside of those three things - or anyone who had access to the rest of the world - was disallowed from my carefully curated bubble.

I was brought up to be obedient and quiet. Don't speak until you are spoken to. Don't question authority, ever. Do, however, make sure you ask permission before doing anything, to make sure you are supervised. And, most importantly, worship God above all else. Or else.

My priorities were as follows:

- Honor God

- Honor others

- Honor myself

As I grew older, I allowed myself to be trampled, abused, mocked, degraded, and assaulted - all in the name of honoring God and others above myself, disregarding my own safety. And nothing was done to stop that impression from being made, as long as my behavior was favorable enough.

To make matters worse, I hardly knew what privacy was. My personal space and private belongings were regularly invaded, and I let it happen because I didn't know any better.

A mantra that was repeated throughout our house was, "If you have to hide anything, it must be something wrong." Nothing was sacred. Personal journals were opened, excessive time alone was scrutinized and brought into question, earbuds were confiscated.

My eyes hungrily latched onto any screen I could find, just to get a glimpse of the world, just to satisfy my curiosity. Each time it happened, I was caught and reprimanded. I felt guilty for trying to see past the bubble, because I was only supposed to know that the bubble was safe, and the rest of the world was evil.

I feared the world. Fear was instilled into my heart from a young age. The fear of strangers, sin, death, and even God himself. Eternal punishment, separate from our almighty creator, was the worst possible pain imaginable, and we were to thank him for sparing us from that punishment.

We were taught that Jesus endured the pain of hell so that we could be saved from having to go through it. We were taught to be contrite, desperate, lost, and confused souls that needed to be washed clean and purified of anything imperfect.

From inside the bubble, I was convinced that being saved from eternal torment was the greatest gift of all, the purest expression of love. But with my first step outside of the bubble, I learned that salvation was not my motivator for following God. It was fear.

Now that I am no longer practicing religion, I experience two feelings at once when thinking of death. These two feelings are very familiar, but that does not make them any less traumatic.

The first feeling is terror. Yes, because of what I have been taught my whole life, I am afraid of death. Will I be punished forever for breaking free of the bubble I was raised in? Will I suffer eternal agony for choosing to abandon God and the church?

The second feeling is intrigue. I must know what happens after death. I'm morbidly curious. Literally. I have had visions of the emptiness of nonexistence, and I have experienced the blind, white-hot pain of what can only be described as hell... but I NEED to know what really happens.

As I am of the firm belief that perfection will always be impossible, I am only left with two options that I constantly mull over. My thoughts are stuck going back and forth between either constant agony, or nothingness. No one has come back from the dead to tell us which it is. So the only way to find out, is to experience it..

I'm not willing to leave this life behind. I've only just begun my journey. Although I have missed out on so much, I am now free to learn, and I will never stop learning. I am learning to love myself for who I truly am, discovering and accepting my own identity while welcoming others in with open arms.

To me, it is such a refreshing change. The worst isn't over yet, but I have had many tumultuous seasons so far, and if I were to never learn from them, I would not be where I am today.

I'll leave with a quote from a message I sent to one of my friends, who had asked me why I live my life the way I do now.

"...I will not let my fear of eternal torment lead me into blindly accepting whatever salvation is thrown at me. Not anymore. I'm living my life, surrounded by good, supportive people, and I don't want to change that. ... The end of the world is near. Before I know it, I'll blink, and everything I know and love will be gone. I'll die, and not have faith in where I'm going to end up. But I feel like that is the truth in the Bible that comes closest to impacting my view of this harsh reality."

[theplantbish]

HIII! Its your Antti anon!! I'm just listening to one of my fav songs "Hiton Pelkuri", and I properly looked at the album art for En Kommentoi for the first time. The combination of abrahamic religious symbols is cool. I know he has a particular interest in religion and his album Valittu Kanssa is of full of intelligent allusions and metaphors. But, not being a Finnish speaker, I sadly have no clue how to interpret the lyrics. What do you think is Antti's attitude towards religion and Christianity?

My favorite Anon, hi!!

Short answer: his attitude towards religion is good, level headed and he is religious.

Longer answer under the cut 😊

Antti has talked about religion quite a lot, especially around the time when Valittu kansa album came out.

His family isn't really religious, but when he was a kid he had friends who were very religious, and that got him interested in it. In one interview he said that he spent a lot of time reading the bible when he was like 7-10 years old.

As an adult he's read about other religions, too, and non-religious history texts about Jesus (or at least tried to find something, idk if those kinds of texts exist).

He's said that he is religious but he also likes to question a lot of the things Christianity teaches. He says that religion is like a journey to him. He prays every night, sometimes he feels like he's talking to God and other times he doesn't really know who he's talking to.

The song Valittu Kansa criticizes and in a way calls out people on their hypocrisy of how they follow religion, institutions and authorities blindly. The album tells about his own experience with religion, how sometimes it's guiding him and other times he feels very lost with it.

A lot of religious people in this country got very upset about the album, without really even listening to any of the songs. They just heard religion + pop music and immediately assumed that it's blasphemy when it's not. I actually saw a video of a priest reacting to the song Valittu Kansa and he was like "oh I totally understand what he's saying, great song!" Which makes those casual, barely ever goes to church but throws a tantrum about the album -people's reaction pretty funny to me ngl.

In a nutshell: his attitude towards all religions is positive, he himself is a Christian and he's very interested in religions in general.

I feel like I have to mention this as a disclaimer of sorts: I'm not religious at all myself, never have been, aaand the album is brilliant imo.

[earthvitalsignimpact]

Chrono-Agents: The Ministry's Architects of Control

created by University Earth Vital Signs (UEVS)

A dystopian scene with chrono-agents manipulating time and an oppressive structure symbolizing the Ministry of Balance.

DISCLAIMER

This document may challenge your understanding of reality, time, and space. Engage with it at your own risk—what you discover may not be what you expect, and the truth may be far stranger than you can imagine. Neither the author(s) nor any involved entities take responsibility for any existential confusion, temporal dislocation, or sudden bursts of enlightenment that may occur. Read with curiosity, critical thinking, and an appreciation for the absurd.

If you find yourself questioning everything, congratulations—you’re on the right track.

Chapter One: The Tapestry of Control

In a world where the Ministry of Balance (MOB) reigns unchallenged, the forces of time have become their ultimate weapon. The chrono-agents, covert operatives with the ability to travel across time, are the Ministry’s enforcers, tasked with bending history to ensure that its vision of a controlled, unchanging world remains intact. Their mission is clear: manipulate past, present, and future events to solidify the Ministry's dominance, leaving no room for resistance, innovation, or disruption.

Here is the image depicting a futuristic control room with shadowy chrono-agents manipulating time and history.

The era of international climate meetings, once the stage for negotiating global climate policies and a battleground for competing interests, is now a distant memory. Thanks to the meticulous efforts of the chrono-agents, these summits were rendered obsolete long ago. Through their manipulation of critical moments in history, the agents ensured the Ministry’s absolute control over global climate systems, energy production, and political structures. What once appeared to be a platform for international cooperation and change was quietly erased, and now every nation, without exception, adheres to the Ministry's policies. There are no longer any debates or discussions—just the Ministry’s unwavering rule.

Instead of global cooperation, there are only sporadic bursts of resistance—small-scale protests led by individuals who still dream of a world free from the Ministry's oppression. These isolated efforts are quickly crushed, and any sparks of rebellion are swiftly snuffed out. The chrono-agents stand guard, ensuring that no leader, no movement, and no breakthrough can ever threaten the Ministry's stranglehold on power. They work tirelessly to ensure that the Ministry's vision remains unchallenged, weaving a reality where dissent is non-existent, and control is absolute.

But the chrono-agents do more than silence opposition—they shape the very narrative that the world follows. They sponsor the conduction of fake climate studies, fabricating evidence that supports the Ministry’s climate management system. These false reports are then strategically spread through social media by MOB-approved influencers, who ensure that the Ministry's message dominates public discourse. This misinformation campaign convinces the global population that the Ministry’s approach is the only viable solution, while undermining any alternative theories or technologies that could threaten their power.

Here is the conceptual image representing the Ministry of Balance's philosophy of creation, with the Earth at the center and the manipulation of history and climate data.

The Ministry’s philosophy of creation further cements their control. According to this ideology, the Earth is only 6,000 years old, a belief rooted in their specific interpretation of religious texts rather than any empirical scientific evidence. This worldview is central to the Ministry’s strategy of maintaining dominance: it undermines established science and redefines the narrative of humanity’s relationship with the planet.

The chrono-agents are key enforcers of this philosophy, ensuring that this creationist view is upheld at all costs. They work to suppress scientific findings that contradict the Ministry's ideology, particularly when it comes to climate change. For instance, the overwhelming evidence provided by institutions like NOAA, which has meticulously studied data spanning the last 800,000 years and has shown clear patterns of rising CO2 levels and their direct impact on the climate, is dismissed and ignored within the Ministry’s constructed reality. The agents systematically alter or suppress data and studies that point to the dangers of unchecked CO2 emissions, asserting that such findings are flawed or irrelevant according to the Ministry’s version of history.

By controlling the narrative around the planet's history and climate science, the chrono-agents ensure that the Ministry's authority remains unchallenged. This philosophy of creation is not just a religious or philosophical stance—it is a political tool designed to keep the population ignorant of the true causes of climate change and to promote the Ministry’s climate control systems as the only "correct" approach. By rejecting the science that shows humanity's impact on the environment, the Ministry solidifies its claim that the world is following its prescribed, unchangeable path, one that cannot be altered by climate action or environmental justice.

Every protest, every uprising, is quickly crushed by the Ministry’s enforcers, ensuring that no resistance movement ever gains traction. The chrono-agents are the silent architects of this controlled reality—moving through time with ruthless precision, ensuring that every key event, every breakthrough, and every political shift aligns with the Ministry’s design. Resistance leaders are quietly erased from history, their names forgotten, their influence nullified before they can even take root.

Their job is not just to maintain the present but to secure the future by manipulating the past. Whenever there is a risk of a disruptive technology, a political movement, or a cultural revolution, the agents intervene. Whether it’s preventing the discovery of renewable energy breakthroughs, suppressing the rise of influential leaders, or erasing the seeds of resistance before they can grow, the chrono-agents ensure that the Ministry’s narrative remains uninterrupted. They rewrite history to make sure the Ministry’s stranglehold on power remains unchallenged—forever.

In this world, where the Ministry controls every facet of life, the chrono-agents are the unseen forces that bend time to their will. They are the Ministry’s instruments of domination, shaping history and the future to eliminate any possibility of rebellion. The fight for freedom has been extinguished, and the Ministry’s grip on the world remains unbreakable. The chrono-agents ensure that no one will ever remember that a time existed when the future was uncertain, and change was possible.

References

National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). (2021). Global Climate Change: Evidence. Retrieved from https://www.climate.gov/evidence. NOAA’s long-term data, spanning over 800,000 years, demonstrates the direct relationship between rising CO2 levels and global temperature increases.

Darwin, C. (1859). On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection. John Murray. This foundational work on the theory of evolution has been instrumental in shaping scientific thought on the age of the Earth and the processes of natural change over time.

Sagan, C. (1996). The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark. Random House. Sagan argues for the critical importance of science and reason in an era threatened by misinformation and pseudoscience, providing a philosophical counterpoint to creationism.

Hume, D. (1776). An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding. A philosophical work that challenges the limits of human knowledge and how the mind shapes our understanding of the world, indirectly questioning dogmatic views of creation.

Feyerabend, P. (1975). Against Method: Outline of an Anarchistic Theory of Knowledge. A critique of scientific rationalism that explores how knowledge itself can be shaped and controlled by powerful institutions, reflecting the manipulation of climate science in this narrative.

Plato. (c. 380 BCE). The Republic, Book VII. In the allegory of the cave, Plato illustrates the difference between the world of appearances and the world of reality. He describes prisoners chained in a cave, seeing only shadows on the wall, symbolizing how people are often deceived by false perceptions and limited understanding. This allegory emphasizes the importance of education and the philosopher's role in bringing people out of ignorance into the light of truth, much like the pursuit of knowledge in science seeks to move beyond misconceptions to reveal deeper truths about the world.

The references explained

Main Findings of NOAA on Climate Change and CO2 Levels

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) provides extensive evidence that human activities, particularly the burning of fossil fuels, have significantly increased the concentration of carbon dioxide (CO2) in the atmosphere, which is directly contributing to global warming. NOAA's data, spanning the last 800,000 years, shows that the current levels of CO2 are unprecedented in both magnitude and speed of increase. These findings highlight the clear correlation between rising CO2 levels and increasing global temperatures, supporting the scientific consensus that human-induced climate change is real and urgent.

Main Findings of Charles Darwin on Evolution and the Age of the Earth

Charles Darwin's groundbreaking work, On the Origin of Species, published in 1859, introduced the theory of natural selection, which explains how species evolve over time through the survival and reproduction of individuals with advantageous traits. Darwin’s observations and evidence from his research, particularly in the Galápagos Islands, laid the foundation for understanding the gradual processes of evolution. His work also challenged conventional beliefs about the age of the Earth, supporting the idea that the planet is far older than the 6,000 years proposed by certain religious doctrines. Darwin's findings revolutionized the study of biology, establishing evolution as the central concept in the life sciences.

Main Findings of Carl Sagan on Science and Pseudoscience

Science as a Candle in the Dark, illustrating the contrast between science and pseudoscience.

In The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark, Carl Sagan argues for the vital importance of scientific thinking and skepticism in a world increasingly threatened by pseudoscience and misinformation. Sagan emphasizes that science, through its method of inquiry and reliance on evidence, is our most reliable tool for understanding the world and improving our lives. He warns against the dangers of accepting unfounded beliefs, particularly in areas like climate change, where misinformation can have dire consequences. Sagan advocates for the promotion of scientific literacy, highlighting its role in empowering individuals to think critically and make informed decisions in a complex and often misleading world.

Main Findings of David Hume on Knowledge and Human Understanding

In An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, David Hume explores the limits of human knowledge and the nature of belief. Hume argues that knowledge is derived from experience, emphasizing that our understanding of the world is shaped by impressions (direct experiences) and ideas (mental representations of those experiences). He challenges the reliability of human reason, especially in matters that go beyond immediate experience, such as metaphysical or religious claims. Hume is skeptical of arguments based on causality and insists that we can never truly know causes; we only observe correlations. His work is foundational in the philosophy of empiricism, questioning assumptions about the world and encouraging a more critical and evidence-based approach to knowledge.

"The Allegory of the Cave: Plato's Metaphor for the Journey to Enlightenment"

Here is the image based on Plato's Allegory of the Cave, depicting the prisoners chained in the cave, only able to see the distorted shadows on the wall.

In Plato's Allegory of the Cave, found in The Republic, he presents a powerful metaphor for the nature of human perception and the path to true knowledge. The story depicts a group of prisoners who have been chained inside a dark cave for their entire lives. They are fixed in place, only able to see the shadows cast on the wall in front of them, which are created by objects behind them, illuminated by a fire. These shadows are all the prisoners have ever known, so they believe them to be the only reality.

One day, a prisoner is freed and led outside the cave. At first, he is blinded by the sunlight, struggling to adjust to the overwhelming brightness. But as his eyes gradually adapt, he begins to see the world in full, realizing that the outside world, bathed in light and color, is the true reality. The shadows in the cave were mere illusions, far removed from the deeper truths he now perceives.

Excited by his newfound understanding, the freed prisoner returns to the cave to share his discovery with the others. However, the remaining prisoners resist and dismiss his claims, unable to accept that there could be a reality beyond the shadows they have known their entire lives.

Plato uses this allegory to illustrate his theory of forms, where the shadows represent the imperfect, material world, and the world outside the cave symbolizes the realm of ideal forms—universal truths that exist beyond the limitations of physical reality. The allegory suggests that most people are trapped in ignorance, mistaking appearances for reality. Only through education and philosophical inquiry can individuals transcend the illusion of the material world and reach a deeper understanding of the truth. It also highlights the resistance people often have to new, challenging ideas that go against their established beliefs.

"Feyerabend's Anarchistic View of Knowledge: Challenging the Authority of Science"

In his 1975 work Against Method, philosopher Paul Feyerabend advocates for an anarchistic approach to knowledge, challenging the idea that there is a single, universally applicable method for acquiring truth. He rejects the notion that science, with its structured methodologies, holds a monopoly on how we understand the world. According to Feyerabend, knowledge is not limited to one rigid system, and different belief systems, cultural perspectives, and methodologies can all offer valuable insights into reality.

Feyerabend's famous phrase "anything goes" encapsulates his view that there is no single, correct approach to knowledge. He argues that science itself has evolved through a variety of methods, many of which have been dismissed or ignored by those in power. Instead of adhering to a strict, predefined method, Feyerabend encourages intellectual freedom, allowing diverse ways of knowing to flourish. He emphasizes the importance of creativity and openness, viewing science as just one among many approaches to understanding the world. In his view, an inclusive, pluralistic model of knowledge—where all perspectives are valued—is more beneficial than a hierarchical system that elevates one method above all others.

checked by AI for copy right issues

[simplykaren]

 Okay, I’m back at my computer, and as someone who has unfortunately dealt with a string of long-term “manage, not cure” diagnoses over the last decade, here’s the tools I’ve found helpful so far:

-  Whatever social media(s) you frequent, follow/subscribe to a few encouraging accounts, so they’ll pop up on your timeline, potentially when you need them. If you’re on Twitter, I can recommend https://twitter.com/SickNotWeak and https://twitter.com/TWLOHA . There will be dark days, and you may or may not feel like looking for light at those times, so it’s important to set yourself up to be exposed to a little encouragement before you need it.  A playlist of songs for when you’re feeling down can also be beneficial. NOT a bunch of sad songs, but songs that remind you the dark doesn’t last forever, that hope still exists, etc. without denying or sugar-coating how much pain sucks. Here’s mine (disclaimer, I am a lapsed Christian, so some of these are religious, though most of them aren’t explicitly): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRtwke_niZY&list=PLd8qam6jTMYa01cx_C3yQCmaOU0DtOvnB&index=1

- Have a few things on-hand for “rainy days.” I’m not sure what that looks like for you and your situation, but when I have a really bad day, I don’t have the emotional--and sometimes physical--energy to cook a proper meal that won’t aggravate any of the three GI conditions I juggle. I try to keep an emergency stash of simple, easy to make, “Karen-safe” foods in the cabinet or freezer to ensure that 1) I’ll eat something and 2) I won’t make myself feel worse by doing so. I also keep a supply of Salon Pas patches and arnica gel by my bed for bad knee pain/swelling days and compression gloves for various hand/wrist pain issues that act up when the weather changes. I also keep a stash of meds for various flare-ups at my workplace, just in case.

- Take sick days if you need to. You actually take longer to recover from a flare-up when you push your body. (Biology is petty like that, and burnout impacts recovery as well.)

- Reading hurt/comfort stories can be cathartic. If you like bnha, I can especially recommend “Missing Everything” https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128547/chapters/74216574 . The author does a really good job of getting that sense of grieving what you lost in Toshinori’s POVs. (I apologize; I don’t recall which fandom I originally followed you for. >.>)

- I...also have taken to writing a degree of body horror into some of my own fanfics. It’s a decent way of processing that whole “something about my body’s permanently changed without my permission, it’s not going away, and I have to deal with it now” thing while keeping a little mental distance from it.

i'm sure this is a thing a lot of people go through but i am having to do a lot of uh. sitting with the thought that i will likely never again be well, for a particular value of wellness

like i am relatively sure i will achieve better levels of functioning and lower levels of pain at times in the future. but it seems quite likely at the moment that i will not ever achieve that functioning and reduced pain without significant daily work. there will always be money and appointments and exercises and painkillers. there will always be work between me and health.

that kind of carefree youth thing where your body is just okay and there is not much you need to think about or plan or make time for to ensure it stays that way, beyond fulfilling basic needs: i'm probably not going to have that. as many many people don't

it's okay. it is what it is. i have resources and help and will continue seeking answers. but also i'm...grieving ease and health and that kind of thoughtless simple safety, and anything to help with that would be good. forums, poems, stories, anything that has helped people through this kind of thing in the past

[artist-owl]

He Doesn’t Look a Thing Like Jesus

@moceit-appreciation-week for Moceit Week day 6: Magic/Role Reversal

word count: 1522

title from “When You Were Young” by The Killers

summary: why is it that angels my fall, yet demons never rise?

Janus wasn’t quite sure what he was anymore.

There wasn’t really a word for the liminal space between an angelic being and a demonic one – well, actually there was, but ‘fallen angel’ wasn’t quite descriptive enough for his purpose; for one, he hadn’t been an angel, he’d been a principality, thankyouverymuch. For another, he hadn’t so much fallen as been slam-dunked out of Heaven like the pearly gates were the net and Earth was the cold and unforgiving wooden floor, ‘fallen’ implied that he’d done it to himself.

In any case, he wasn’t yet a demon, wouldn’t become one unless he burned away the last remaining dregs of his divine power and went to Hell. Not that he had any intention of doing so of course, no matter how far he’d been demoted – it was a ghastly place from what he’d heard. But he wasn’t a principality anymore, that was clear as the scars on his back. Damn it all, is this really where asking questions could get you? 

Well fuck that noise, Janus didn’t want any part of that heavenly nonsense anymore.

What exactly he was didn’t matter much, really. Not nearly as much as what he could do. 

Which still wasn’t much – he hadn’t lost all of his powers, but even the few that he still had were weakened – but it was just enough to keep his mortal (or at least humanoid) form alive and out of prison. The humans really had made just suddenly appearing somewhere so much more complicated over the past century or so, hadn’t they? 

Nothing that he couldn’t handle, of course.

“And this will be your desk,” said his new boss – Angela de la Cruz, she’d told him, because his Dad really must’ve had a sense of humor when They’d been coming up with Their plan for Everything. “You’ll be sharing it with our clerk, Patton Smith, but don’t worry, there’s plenty of room. 

“Thank you, Angela,” Janus said smoothly, setting down his small box of supplies on the mentioned desk. It was, in fact, large enough for two people to work on; it was a square table, half of it stacked with papers and folders and a laptop sitting closed towards the center, a few pens scattered haphazardly through the thing, and a cup of coffee that seemed to have already gone cold. Janus had no doubt that within the week his side of the desk would look similar, if a little neater.

“Not a problem! I’ll let you get settled in, you can come to my office in a few minutes to receive your first assignments.”

“That sounds wonderful, thanks.” Janus flashed her a practiced smile, and she sent him one back that looked just a bit more genuine, then turned and left for her office.

Janus turned and surveyed the desk for a moment, then started unpacking. He took out his laptop, its cord, the small box of black ink pens, and a pad of paper.

Right. Unpacking done.

He wasn’t entirely certain how this job would go, but he wasn’t too worried about it. Surely working in human law couldn’t be that different from his administrative duties Upstairs.

He was debating whether or not he should take the time to figure out how to get his computer started up, when he heard a door open and he glanced up at the man who’d stepped into the room.

The little snip of divinity still in him recoiled, and Janus barely stopped himself from flinching. The man stopped in his tracks, staring at Janus.

No, not a man.

Janus’s upper lip curled back. “Hello, demon.”

It seemed to shake the being out of his stupor. “Ah, hello,” he said, smiling politely. ���Should I refer to you as the same?”

“No.”

The demon tilted his head, examining Janus. His round glasses magnified his eyes, making them look bigger behind the gold-colored wire frames. After a moment of scrutiny, he seemed to relax. “Alright then!” He sounded chipper. “It’s nice to meet you. You can call me Patton.”

“...Janus.”

“How are you doing, Janus? You must be the new secretary.”

“...Yes.” Janus stared as the demon sat down, slowly doing the same. “I’d ask what a demon is doing working at a human law office,” he said slowly, “but given how few lawyers I ran into Up There, I can make a guess.”

The demon – Patton, he supposed, may as well start calling it that before he slipped up and called the being a demon to his face in front of their human coworkers – just laughed, polite and practiced. “Oh, no, nothing like that.”

“Sure.”

“I’m working up to animal rights law,” Patton said cheerfully.

Which.

What?

“Not the division I’d expect one of your sort to choose to enter,” Janus said. “What…you looking for the next soul to corrupt?”

“Oh, I don’t do that sort of thing,” Patton said breezily, waving his hand.

“You’re a demon.”

“And you’re not an angel,” Patton said, poisonously sweet. Janus didn’t flinch, but something must have shown in his expression because Patton’s face shuttered for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said, in the most genuine tone he’d used so far. “That was cruel of me, my apologies.”

Janus leaned back, suddenly uncertain. What in the…

“What are you?”

Patton giggled. It was eerie. “Oh, no no, you had me pegged from the start. It’s just…well…” his eyes went a little soft as they looked into the middle distance over Janus’s shoulder. “You’ve fallen, yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Patton met his eyes then, and the metaphorical fire in them didn’t look so much hellish as determined. “I want to rise.”

Janus made a noise halfway between a laugh and a choke. “You want…to rise?” he said, disbelief coloring his voice.

“Yep!” Patton was smiling sunnily, like he hadn’t said the most insane thing that Janus had ever heard.

“That – that’s impossible.”

“Just because no one’s done it yet doesn’t mean that it’s impossible.”

“No, I mean –” Janus’s voice trailed off as he suddenly wondered…was it impossible? He’d never thought to ask. It wasn’t one of the questions that got him demoted, though now that he thought about it, if he had asked it, he probably would have been punted down to Earth way sooner than this.

Patton shrugged. “Humans can do it. Why not me?”

“Because you’re innately evil?” Janus said, just a tiny bit hysterically. 

“Well some people say that humans are too, and they still go Up There.”

“Humans are born neutral, there’s hundreds of different things to influence them and thousands of choices for them to make. We don’t have that choice.”

“But you fell,” Patton said simply, like that made his case.

“All part of the Almighty’s plan, I’m sure,” Janus said, proud of how little bitterness he’d managed to let seep into his tone. “But I’ve never heard of Them raising one of you up.”

Patton shrugged again. “Like I said, just because no one’s done it yet doesn’t mean that it’s impossible.”

Janus scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why do you even want to rise?”

“Because I want to help people,” Patton said immediately. “I want to do good. I want to be good.”

“And you can’t do that from where you are?”

“Well, I’m doing my best now, aren’t I?” Patton said, smiling. “That’s how I’m going to do it, do so much good that They’ll let me Up. But imagine how much more good I could do if I was Up There! Directly serving the Almighty’s plan, not just…doing the little that someone of my place can do for good.”

Janus chewed his lip for a moment. “I…don’t think that’s how that works.”

Patton’s smile was serene. “I have faith that it will.”

“...Right.”

Janus didn’t really know what else to say. What else he could say. Was it more cruel to let Patton continue with his impossible task, or burst his bubble now and let him face harsh reality? Should Janus even be feeling sympathy for the demon?

The door to Angela’s office opened. “Oh, I see you two’ve met!” she said brightly behind Janus.

Patton beamed at her. “Sure did!”

“Awesome! You settled then?”

“I am,” Janus said to her. “You mentioned assignments?”

“Yeah. You don’t know how much having you here is going to help, our legal assistant has been going nuts trying to get everything done herself.”

“Mm.” Janus stood up and started over to her office.

“Oh, and Janus?” Janus turned and saw Patton offering him a genuine smile. “Welcome to the office.”

Janus inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you,” he said, before turning back around and following Angela. 

What the Hell. Why should Janus care? He wasn’t aligned with the Upstairs anymore. There wasn’t any reason for him to be concerned about some upstart demon trying to worm his way Up. Patton seemed to be taking the most boringly respectable route possible to his unreachable goal, and him burning himself out to do so wasn’t any of Janus’s business. There was no reason for Janus to be interested in Patton.

No reason at all.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Regally Smitten

chapter 2: the secret

chapter word count: ~5.2k

synopsis: A future king and his servant are bound by their forbidden love. With the odds stacked against them, and a jealous brother out for blood, will their love prevail? Or will history repeat itself?

warnings: homophobia (specifically religious homophobia, this is a period piece so these beliefs are a reflection of the time period being portrayed, and the characters themselves, and do not reflect my personal beliefs. please read with caution and remember to take care of yourself. ily.) descriptions of violence, main character injury (no main character death), foul language, suggestive themes, brief mentions of anxiety, depression, and panic attacks. one mention of suicidal thoughts (but no action)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and in no way represents any member of stray kids in reality. this is a fanfiction and should be treated as such. this is not me “shipping” them, these are simply characters based on real life people. i don’t need the minsung antis coming for me.

authors note: i definitely cried multiple times while writing this chapter.

series masterlist • main masterlist

The road to Westwood was a long one. About a weeks trip to be exact. They had rode all day long in the sweltering heat, along a dirt path with little tree cover. Well, Han did. The two princes and the king and queen rode in a gold trimmed carriage. Two members of the royal guard rode in front, their black stallions draped in the colors of the kingdom, their long manes braided with flowers. The guardsmen carried swords and tall poles that flew the flag with the crest of the Lee Dynasty.

Han rode on a much less impressive horse, behind the carriage. As did two other squires, one for prince Rian and one for the king and queen. The carriage kicked up dust from its wheels. It stuck to Han’s sweaty skin and left him feeling gritty and dirty. This was his first time as squire, his first time traveling this far away from the castle, his first time being on the back of a horse for this long. His legs and back were absolutely killing him. And to add to it, the other squires would not shut up. They had all been at their post for years. Whereas, this was Han’s second day.

"How you holding up over there, newbie?" called James, the squire assigned to the king and queen. He had been their squire since heinrich first took the throne almost ten years ago, and he was a royal pain in the ass.

"I’m fine. Just a little sore is all." Han told him. The other squires laughed.

"This is only day one. We’ve still got six days worth of riding before we make it to the Westwood gates. You better get used to it."

Han nodded. Unable to focus on their conversation anymore. He was more focused on not falling off his horse.

And just when he thought he could ride no longer, he could see a small village in the distance. As they approached, they started to see more people. Little stone houses, and small fields of crops. A waist high stone wall surrounded the little town. The entrance was guarded by two men, their armor dented and worn. The carriage stopped. The royal guard didnt have to say anything, before the two small guards stepped aside and let their party through the gates. Both guards bowed as the carriage passed. Everyone in the town stopped what they were doing and gathered around the town center, where the carriage stopped. The small door swung open and minho was the first one to step out. He looked just as he did when they had left the castle that morning. He showed no signs of having been riding all day. Han was sure the same could not be said for him.

Minho was dressed in his royal garb, his white undershirt covered by his lilac velvet vest, and tucked into his black trousers. He approached the town leader as the rest of the royal family exited the carriage. Prince Rian was next, followed by Queen Charlotte and lastly, King Heinrich. Everyone in the town center knelt to one knee, bowing their heads.

"Your Grace," said the town leader. "Welcome to Nalefell. It is an honor to have you."

"Thank you, my lord." Minho told the man. "You all may stand." Minho said louder, so everyone could hear him. "Thank you for your warm welcome."

Though no one stood. Rian gave a snobby chuckle. "You’re not king yet, brother." he whispered into Minho’s ear.

"Thank you, people of Nalefell. We wish to seek shelter for the night on our way to Westwood." the king announced.

"Yes, your grace." the town leader said. "Clarice is the head of our inn. She will get your rooms together right away."

A woman to Han's right stood up, he assumed this woman was Clarice. She bowed and said a quiet 'your grace' before turning on her heel and heading into a large building behind her.

Minho, Rian, and the king and queen followed. Leaving the royal guard and the squires to attend to the horses and the carriage.

Once the carriage was parked, their horses tied and fed, Han and the rest of the squires headed to find their respective royal family member.

Han was so incredibly tired, it took everything in him to drag his feet through Minho’s door. The prince was sitting on the edge of the bed, untying his boots. "I am starving." he announced without looking up.

"Of course Your Grace." Han said, his voice worn with exhaustion. “Let me fetch your dinner." He turned to leave, to head to the small pub across the square from the inn where he was sure he could find something to satisfy the king.

"Hold on." the prince stopped him. Han turned back around, facing Minho, waiting for instruction. "Are you alright?" the prince asked.

"Yes, Your Grace. Just a little tired from the days journey." Han explained. "Though I’m sure you are even more tired than I am. Please allow me to get your dinner."

"Han, you look awful." Minho said.

The look on Han’s face made Minho backtrack a little. "I mean no disrespect." the prince said. "You just look like you need to rest." Minho put his boots back on and stood. "Here. Please lie down." Minho motioned to the bed.

Han froze. "Your Grace.. you are too kind. I could not lie in your bed." Han shook his head. "I will get your dinner and then I will find my own bed if you have no need for me after that."

Minho wanted to tell his squire that he will always have need for him. He needs him in more ways than anyone will ever know. He felt so bad. Han was filthy, covered in dirt and sweat. He looked like he was about to pass out on the spot.

"As prince, im ordering you." Minho said, his voice gentle and not at all sounding authoritative. "Wash up while I go across the way and get us some food. It will give me a chance to talk to some townspeople anyway." Minho crossed the room to where Han stood in the doorway.

"Oh and by the way, my bed is your bed tonight. They only had three rooms. One for my parents and their squire, one for Rian and his squire, and one for me and you."

Han's cheeks pinked at the thought of sharing a bed with minho. Surely the other squires weren’t sleeping in bed with the royals. There’s no way that the king and queen are sleeping in the same bed as James. No, Han would sleep on the floor, as he was sure thats what the other squires would do as well.

Minho smiled, pleased with the blush that covered Han’s weary face. He patted the squire on the top of his head and gently moved passed him, in search of some food.

----

The dinner that Minho had found, filled Han’s tummy and made him very happy. They ate in silence together, both unsure of what to say to the other. The only break in the silence was when Minho had quietly said, "You’re cute with your cheeks filled with food like that. Like a little chipmunk." and Han was so stunned, he could not reply. He just bowed his head slightly to the royal. Minho also didnt add anything after that, having accomplished his mission of flustering his squire once more. He had decided he would do so any chance he could, as he never tired of seeing Han blushing and speechless.

Plates empty and left on the table, the prince climbed into bed. Han grabbed a spare pillow from the corner and took his place on the uneven floorboards at the foot of the bed.

"What’re you doing?" Minho asked.

"We should get some sleep, Your Grace. We ride again at first light."

"I know that." Minho said, shortly. "I meant, what are you doing on the floor? There is plenty of room and I promise I dont bite." Well, not unless Han wanted him to.

"It would be inappropriate, Your Grace. I am comfortable on the floor." Han curled up on his side, unable to see the prince any longer. Even thought the floor was dirty and hard as a rock, it was nice to finally rest his body by lying down. The bed squeaked, and Minho’s head popped up over the footboard. He looked down at Han, curled up in a small ball on the floor, and took a moment to admire him. His eyes were closed, his hair tickling his forehead, his full lips in a small pout. Han opened his eyes. "Your Grace?"

"You’re going to make me sleep up here all by myself? While you’re miserable on the hard floor?" Minho raised one eyebrow at his squire.

"Your Grace," Han began.

"Call me Minho." the prince interrupted. "You were practically limping earlier. There’s no way you will be able to do another full days ride after sleeping down there."

"Your Grace, I am flattered at your concern for me. But I must sleep on the floor. I promise I am okay." Han’s stomach was in knots, the prince's face so close to his.

The prince rolled his eyes. "I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m your future king. Get up here." Minho said, before crawling back to the top of the bed and climbing under the covers.

Han took a moment to take a deep breath before he stood. He awkwardly stood at the end of the bed, wringing his pillow in his hands. Minho lifted the cover next to him and patted the mattress. "I promise to keep my hands to myself." he teased.

Han nodded before gently laying on the bed, as close to the edge as he could get, facing away from the prince. The mattress sank under him and conformed to his body. He had to admit, it was extremely comfortable. He felt sleep coming for him quickly. Minho let out a small chuckle and smiled to himself. "Goodnight, Han." he said, quietly.

"Goodnight Your Grace."

----

The rest of the trip to Westwood was much of the same. Long grueling hours on the back of a horse, behind a carriage thats kicking up dust. The only reprieve being the rest when night fell in a small inn somewhere in the countryside. Though every night that followed had not been like the first night. Each inn they stayed at had a room specifically for the squires to share. Han sometimes let his mind wander back to that first night. Why had the prince insisted on sharing a bed? And why did he seem so.. flirtatious? Surely Han must be mistaken. No, he was delusional. That’s what it was. He would write to Hyunjin and have his best friend set him straight. Though, does he risk writing that down and sending it with a messenger? Han’s newfound feelings for the prince could cause him to loose his job should the word get out. And not only that, it could ruin the prince's reputation. Same sex relationships were defintely looked down upon in this kindgom. Han wondered if maybe it went even further than that. Han had always kept his feelings to himself. Only Hyunjin knows which way Han leans. Who Han fancies. And Han had never heard of anyone else in the kingdom being like himself. Only the gods know what would come about if this information got out. And selfishly, he didnt want to loose his place at the prince's side. No, he would admire him in secret and make sure to keep his distance from now on. Though the prince made it hard sometimes.

On the last day of their trip, the last night in an inn before they made it to Westwood, Han had been asleep on the floor, James had stolen the only bed in their room all for himself, when he was awoken. Someone was shaking him awake.

"Han." shake shake. "Han, wake up." shake.

Han slowly opened his eyes and he was met with.. chocolate. Han jumped back, scooted as far away as he could until he hit the wall.

"Shhh. Don’t wake them." The prince pressed a ringed pointer finger to his lips, telling Han to shush. He motioned with his hand for Han to follow him. Han clutched his boots in his hand and tiptoed out of the room.

"Your Grace." Han whispered. "Is something wrong?"

Minho shook his head and began walking to the entrance of the inn, Han trailing behind him, trying to put on his boots and walk at the same time. They snuck outside, the town quiet, the horses softly munching on their hay. Han finally caught up with Minho, who walked casually behind the inn.

"Your Grace." Han said, quietly. "Might i ask what's going on?"

"I couldn’t sleep." the prince answered. "I thought some fresh air would do me good. And the stars look so nice."

At the edge of the little village, a small river bubbled along, Minho standing on its banks, head tilted toward the sky.

"I agree a night walk is rather lovely.." Han said, still unsure why the prince woke him up for this. Han tipped a small rock over with the toe of his boot, the silence between the two men growing.

"You’re wondering why I woke you up." the prince stated.

Han looked over at Minho, the moonlight making his sharp features even sharper, his nose prominent. Though Han wished he could see that small freckle he knew was there. No, the darkness still hid that from him. "You dont need to explain, Your Grace."

The prince took a step closer to Han. Close enough to poke him in his side. Han jerked away, out of ticklishness, and unsure how to handle this playful nature. "It’s Minho." he said. "I wish you would call me Minho."

Han just nodded, taking a step back, looking at the dirt and trying to gather his thoughts.

"Can i ask you a question, Han?"

"Of course, Your Grace." Minho rolled his eyes. He would get Han to drop the formalities one day.

"You don’t have to answer if you so wish." he said. Han nodded, intrigued with what the prince could possibly have to ask him. "Do you think I will make a good king? Or do you think Rian is better for the job?"

Han took a moment to process the question. He needed to tread carefully. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing. "I think you would make a fantastic king."

"I’ve been raised my whole life to be king one day." Minho said, taking a seat on the soft grass next to the running water. He gestured for Han to sit next to him. Carefully, Han sat cross legged, the soft grass slightly damp with the morning dew. Han noticed the sun would be up soon. "I’m only going to be king because I was born first. If Rian had been born first, he would be the heir, not me."

"If i may speak freely, Your Grace." Han said, pulling up little blades of grass and rolling them together in his fingers. Minho nodded, gesturing for Han to continue. "I think your brother can be a little.. crass at times." Minho chuckled at that. Han continued. "I mean no disrespect toward Prince Rian, but he can be a little harsh. But you, Your Grace.. you are kind. You are what the people need." Minho looked over at Han, who was focused on the grass in his fingers. "You are kind, and fair, and enjoy talking with the people, hearing their stories and where they come from. Sometimes I feel like your brother is just interested in the notoriety." Han looked up and met Minho’s gaze. The prince was staring at him, hard. "But- but I’m sure im mistaken. prince Rian is lovely."

"Do’nt lie to me, Han." Minho said.

"Never, Your Grace." Minho looked as if he was searching for something in Han’s features. Any trace of dishonesty. Not about Rian. No, Minho knew his brother was an ass. But did Han really believe everything he had said about Minho being kind? Should Minho be harsher? More like his brother? Is that what it takes to be king? Minho wasn’t sure.

Han turned his gaze to the water, dipping his fingertips into its cold depths, unable to look into Minho’s eyes any longer.

"What if I just left?" the prince said.

Han's head snapped up, shocked. "What do you mean, left?"

Minho shrugged. "I don’t know. It’s just something I’ve thought about." He studied Han’s face. The way his blinks were slow, processing the words and formulating an appropriate response. He was so cute. Minho felt the need to protect him at all costs. Nothing bad could happen to Han. Minho didn’t think he could live if it did. "I’ve been thinking about it a lot more, recently." He continued.

"Is that something you want?" Han asked.

"I don’t know. Maybe." Minho ran his hands through his hair before reclining back on his hands. "I don’t want to run from my responsibilities, but at the same time, I’m not sure if being king is what I want. But I may not have that choice."

Han nodded, listening. "Could I say something rather selfish, Your Grace?" Minho looked over at Han, the dim light casting shadows across his face. "I think you would make a wonderful king. The best king this realm has had in a very long time. But I would not be mad if you decided you wanted to run from it. I can not imagine the amount of stress and pressure that must be on your shoulders." your incredibly broad, muscled, perfect shoulders. "but if you were not king, or if you left while still a prince, then I would no longer be your squire. And that would make me sad, I think."

"So come with me." Minho said, quickly. He sounded so sure of himself. Like he had thought this out already and had the plan in place. "..if i decide to go." he added. Han was stunned, his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded. And somehow Minho thought it made him even more adorable. The prince slowly inched his hand across the grass until his fingertips brushed Han’s. He ran his index finger down the length of Han’s thumb before Han pulled away. His stomach was in knots, he felt he may throw up his mutton he had for dinner.

"The sun will be up soon, Your Grace." Han said quietly. "We should go back to the inn."

And all Minho could do was admire the flush on Han’s cheeks. He wanted so badly to tell him that he has made up his mind. That they should leave, start a life together somewhere else. Somewhere where kings and queens didn’t rule, somewhere where Minho could kiss Han. Where he could openly kiss him and hold his hand and tell him just how happy he makes him. But Minho knew it was a fantasy, knew that it could never be. Minho had duties, a whole kingdom of people depending on him. He could not just run and leave them to suffer the nightmare that would surely be the rein of his brother. No, Minho must stick it out. He knew he needed to be king. But it was fun to entertain the thought of happiness, sometimes.

And with the sun peeking over the hilltop, Minho also rose, and led the way back to the inn.

----

Han had decided Westwood was a beautiful city. It was slightly smaller than the capital city where their castle was, but it was twice as beautiful. The city was covered in flowers. As far as the eye could see, flowers. Fields of lilacs and peonies, tulips and roses. Bright green vines crawled up all of the stone walls. The shops that lined the square were selling bouquets and don’t get Han stated on the smell.

"First time in Westwood?" James asked, seeing the awe on Han's face. Han nodded in response, unable to take his eyes off of the beautiful colors, but being careful to keep his horse in line. "Westwood is the main flower supplier for all of the realm." James said. "Anytime there’s a wedding, or a coronation, or birthday feast, the flowers come from here." James scrunched up his nose. "I think it reeks."

Han turned his head toward his fellow squire. "What? You hate it? How? It's so beautiful."

James rolled his eyes. "You're kind of a priss, aren't you?"

Han turned away, decided not to even respond to that comment.

If the town was beautiful, and the square was beautiful, it paled in comparison to the house they approached now. The single story stone house was sprawling. Covered in vines and flowers just like the rest of the town, but the house was very open and airy. There were so many windows with no glass, just large holes decorated with gossamer curtains that blew in the rose scented breeze. They were greeted by Lord Alexander and Lady Ere, and a young lady who Han did not know of her name but assumed her to be their daughter. Based on the way she was dressed, and the way she curtsied when the king approached, Han knew she was no servant. She had been raised well.

"Welcome, my lord, to Westwood." Alexander said, bowing, and then spreading his arms wide. The king laughed a laugh that Han didnt think him capable of. One that actually sounded.. happy. One that sounded like it originated deep in his belly.

"Alex! So good to see you, old friend." The king embraced the Lord before turning his attention to Lady Ere. He kissed her hand gently.

"I trust your trip was comfortable?" Lady Ere asked.

The queen answered her. "Oh very much so. But we are glad to have finally arrived. A week is a very long time to travel."

"Of course, of course." Alex said. "Please, do come inside out of the heat. We have dinner prepared."

And with that, the king and queen and both princes followed them inside the beautiful flower covered home. And Han rode away to feed and water his horse.

--

The servants at the Westwood home, showed the squires to their guest rooms. Unlike the inns they stayed at along the way, this house was large enough for everyone, all the members of the royal family and their squires, to have their own individual rooms. The room Han was placed in was small, but that was okay with him. He had a bed all to himself for the first time in a week. He wasn’t about to complain. He relaxed onto the soft cushion mattress and before he knew it, sleep overtook him. He only awoke to the sound of a soft knocking at his door. Bleary, his eyes cracked open. The once bright room was now overtaken with darkness. He squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust. The soft knocking happened again. Han begrudgingly hauled himself off of the bed and cracked the door open.

The prince immediately felt better after seeing Han’s face. He could tell his squire had been sleeping, his eyes barely open, his face puffy. It instantly made his heart feel lighter. It’s just what he needed. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you." Minho said.

Han stepped aside and allowed the prince to enter. "No, that’s okay, Your Grace. I was just getting up." Minho knew that was a lie, but he appreciated the way Han worried about his feelings. "Did you need something from me?" Han asked.

Minho paused for a moment, thinking. "No." he said. "No, not really. Just.." he paused again, turning to face Han, who was closing the door behind them. "Some company?" Minho finished his thought.

Han looked surprised. Minho noticed that Han often looked surprised. Like he felt that the prince would never want to voluntarily spend time with his squire. But that was not the case at all. Minho wanted to spend every single minute with Han. But it wasn’t appropriate to tell him that. Especially after the news he had just been given at dinner. Minho sat on the edge of Han’s bed, and looked up at the sleepy man. Han took a seat next to the prince, the small bed dipping under their weight causing their bodies to slide closer together. Their knees touching.

"I was thinking again about our conversation from this morning. About leaving and starting somewhere else." Minho said. Han nodded, but was unsure of what to say, so the prince continued. "It’s a wonderful fantasy. Don’t you think?"

Han did think that it would be nice to run away with Minho. To spend a life with Minho. But Han was sure that the future he was imaging was far different than the one the prince was picturing. "It does sound nice, Your Grace."

Minho sighed, he turned his head toward Han, who was looking down at his hands. "Will you ever listen to me when I say, please call me Minho?"

Han looked up and met Minho’s gaze. His eyes were intense. That was the only way that Han could describe it. They were so filled with emotion. More than one emotion for sure, but Han couldn’t place what they were. Sadness? Fear? Love?

"It would not be appropriate for me to call you anything other than your grace.. Your Grace." Han said quietly, feeling small under Minho’s stare. He couldnt tear his eyes away from the princes, though. He was captivated, enthralled. In this moment, nothing else existed for him. And Minho felt the same way. When he looked into Han’s eyes, he could see the future he so longed for. Deep in his brown iris, was a whole life that Minho could see. A whole world away from all of this princely bullshit. A simple life, with the man he loved.

The prince was leaning closer, trying to chase that life he could see. Han was busy trying to memorize all the lines of his prince's face. They had never been this close, their breath mingling together. That freckle that Han loved so much was only a few inches from his own nose. And what would he do if those noses touched? What would Han do if the prince's pouty lips met his own? Han didnt know.

Minho placed one hand on Han’s knee, the contact sending shivers through Han’s body. As the prince drew ever closer, Han knew this was a bad idea. He knew they should stop. But he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He didnt want to. Minho brought his other hand up and brushed some hair away from Han’s eyes, before sliding that hand to cradle Han’s head. Han was having trouble breathing now, his breaths coming in short ragged pants, his heart rate spiking.

Minho loved it when Han let out that little gasp, loved it when his cheeks turned a soft pink. But he thinks he loves it the most when he finally gets close enough.. after these long, longing days, he finally gets close enough..

Han closed his eyes, his fists clenched in his lap, as the prince finally was close enough, that their lips touched.

And it was everything Han had dreamed of. The prince's lips were soft, and warm as they moved against his own, the pressure feather light. Minho used his hold on the back of Han’s head to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Han felt his whole body relax as the prince's tongue ran along his bottom lip, the pince's hand rubbing soft circles on Han’s leg. Han thought this must be what heaven felt like. This is what the devoutly faithful meant when they said that heaven is beautiful. And Han thought he may take them up on their talk of gods if it meant he could stay in this heaven forever. In Minho’s arms for the rest of eternity.

Minho gently pushed Han, until his back hit the mattress. The prince broke the kiss, but only to move his lips to Han’s neck. he placed gentle kisses there. Minho was used to being a prince, used to having people worship him and faun over him. But in this moment, and in all future moments, all he wanted to do was worship Han. Wanted to give him everything he could ever want and more. And when the prince bit down softly on the flesh of Han’s neck, that’s when he heard it.

Han let out a soft gasp. "M-Minho.." he breathed out.

And then it clicked. Hearing his squire finally say the one thing he had been begging for this whole time, it finally brought the prince back to his senses. They can’t be doing this. This is dangerous. Minho threw himself off of the bed and across the room. His back against the cold hard stone of the wall, as Han lay on his back, flushed and panting, embarrassed.

"I- I’m sorry.." Han said quietly.

Minho's heart broke. What had he done? There was no going back from here. He promised not to make the same mistake as he did before, and now look at him.

Han sat up, his head in his hands. "I’m so sorry. I- I shouldn’t have.." Han couldn’t find the words. Minho had done this. His heart felt like a lead weight in his chest. He had made Han feel this way. Had made Han feel like he had done something wrong. Had practically begged for him to drop the honorifics and call him by his name and when he finally did.. it was so beautiful. But then Minho freaked out and now he fears he will never hear it again. And if that’s the case, then it’s what he deserves.

"They want me to marry her." Minho said bluntly. Han looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. Minho had to look away. He would not cry in front of Han. "The daughter here, Astrid. They want me to marry her. That’s what the dinner was about. What this whole trip has been about.”

Han's heart shattered some more. "oh-- oh." he stuttered. "I th-think you and the lady would make a fine match." Han said, though his voice shook.

"I told you never to lie to me, Han." Minho said quietly. He approached the squire. He knelt down on the floor in front of him. Looked up at him and used his thumbs to wipe his tears. "I don’t want to marry her." He whispered. Han sniffled. "I don’t want to, but I fear I may have no choice."

Han remained silent, holding back his tears. "I’m sorry, Han. I shouldn’t have put you through this.” He searched Han’s face, searched his eyes, no longer seeing their future there. "I’m sorry. I had a moment of weakness..” Han nodded, silent tears falling down his cheeks.

"But this has to remain a secret." Minho whispered. He leaned in and kissed Han on the cheek softly. “This has to remain a secret, and it can’t happen again.”

And with that, the prince stood and left the room, the door softly shutting behind him and Han’s heart was in pieces, littering the floor.

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[nevermindirah]

Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite​‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen​ used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)

[spield]

journey to i - kakasaku

Author’s Notes: This has been in my google docs for so long, I’ve forgotten all about it. I low-key panicked when I couldn’t find it my files hahaha. But here it is. Not much romance, but more of... hmm, you tell me what you think it is in your comments! ;) 

Disclaimer: As I’ve said before, sometimes I just write to get things out THEN edit it after. This is the case for this one. Will probably edit this soon though! 

In the end, when Sasuke asks, Sakura says no. 

She takes his lone hand, kisses his palm and whispers why she can’t. 

Sasuke doesn’t understand but he sees the longing in her green eyes, and ah, that he understands. So he pokes her forehead, just above her seal, and hopes they meet on the road and promises a cup of tea. 

She doesn’t linger to watch him leave. Instead, the moment he turns his back, she turns hers too. One feet in front of the other, she walks through the paths of her village, through the market and takes a few turns and goes inside the Hokage tower. 

In less than an hour, Sakura files her indefinite leave with a promise to assist, help and support members of the Shinobi Alliance on her way but with no promise when she’ll come back.

Kakashi is outside when she steps out, no signs of his hat and coat but with his trademark slouch present. He must’ve jumped through the window, Sakura thinks amusedly. Somehow, even through everything, under the fading light, he still looks untouchable. Perhaps, especially now. “You going somewhere?” 

“You just approved my papers.” Sakura smiles, waving the scroll in front of him. “You know where I’m going.” 

Kakashi’s dark eyes - eyes, how odd - are unreadable as he says, “No. No, I don’t.” 

There’s much left to say, but years of cowardice and hiding are not easy habits to break. So Sakura heads home, and is gone before the sunrise. 

At the end of it all, Sakura goes on a journey to retrace her own family’s history. Beyond Konoha, beyond the Land of Fire and beyond the world of the shinobi. 

Because before Sakura was the Fifth’s Apprentice, before she was The Scorpion Killer and way before she was the leftovers of an old genin team, Sakura was a Haruno. 

And all Haruno go back to the sea. 

She left Konoha with just one bag filled with colorful clothes that she never got to wear. Clothes that her mother and father gifted her year after year, holiday after holiday, even when she couldn’t wear them. Not in the village of leaves, not when they smell of the sea even if they’ve never touched it. 

So, Haruno Sakura goes home. 

This is what Sakura tells the Godaime, the Rokudaime and anyone who asks. 

(This is what she tells herself, however, in the end, it’s still heartbreak that leads her away from Konoha. When she meets Sasuke for tea, she hopes they could talk about how Konoha broke their hearts in the way it never did to Naruto.)

All questions are quelled by a calling, by the vast distance, beyond the greens of different trees and blues of different seas tug at her heartstrings, whispering, “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.” 

Sakura circumnavigates the world and through her journey, she meets a monk, a lover and a heathen.

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs. From what she’d gathered throughout her years of friendship with Kankuro, they were pretty lenient to whatever gods their shinobi choose to worship. 

“Maybe, you know, except for another Rabbit Goddess,” Kankuro backtracked, fingers uncoordinated and stiff from fighting, trying to balance a sake cup. It was the first time they’ve seen each other after the war, on the tails still of victory and defeat. High off it. “Yup, maybe not another Rabbit Goddess, maybe not Jashin either - everything else, fair game.”

“Faith is an interesting reprieve from the terrors of life.” Gaara said, righting his brother up with his sand. His teal eyes are fond and warm, and new. His gourd is nowhere to be seen and he looks so young for a man who led their army.  “We let people have their gods.” 

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs, or rather, they’re known for not being known for it but still, it’s where Sakura meets the monk. 

Suna welcomes her with open arms because the sands may be forever shifting, but it never forgets. It remembers her as that 15 year old prodigy who saved their Kazekage’s brother, that 19, 20 and 21 year old who performed miracles in the battlefield with eyes fierce and elbows deep in people’s guts. Suna loves her for what she represents - grit, dirt and kindness honed by the cruelty of the world. 

(Abandoned. That’s what Suna and Sakura had in common.)

Sometimes, Sakura wishes she could see what they see too. 

Now, she’s 23 years old. Two years after the war and she’s still so tired. 

In Suna, she’s given free reign of the hospital. Overseeing their developments in prosthesis, their puppet corps turned into experts of the field. She supposes Sasori would be rolling in his grave at the thought of how his notes revolutionized the entire field of artificial limbs - if he had a grave that is. 

(Sasori was a brilliant man. Mad, yes, but brilliant - and aren’t the brilliant ones always are?)

When Sakura lessens her healing and caseload citing more hands-on training for the Suna medics, Gaara doesn’t ask. She’s still brilliant with her lectures and demonstration and nobody dares to question the greatest healer of the nations. 

It is on the first day of her sixth month when she sees the monk. There’s some sort of blessing ceremony to be done to the new ward of the hospital. The Kazekage’s invited the religious leaders of Suna to bless the place. 

Several came, all with different garments and different rituals. One came with water from a blessed oasis, all barefooted and with hair reaching up to the backs of their knees. They spoke a language she’s never heard, words running over like water over rocks in a bubbling stream. Another came in traditional Suna garments, and sprinkled sand over the white tiles of the new ward - under the setting sun, it looked like fairy dust and gold. 

Many came and went, but one remained still at the outskirts of the crowd, quiet and familiar.

“It’s the first time he’s gone out in public since Chiyo-baa-sama’s death,” Kankuro shrugged when Sakura asked. “He’s kind of particular and all that.” 

It isn’t until the sun dips down the horizon that the monk steps forward. At this point there aren’t anyone left but Gaara and Sakura but nevertheless, they receive no acknowledgement from the stooping man. 

He’s quiet, as he bleeds his chakra to the floor and down every grain of sand in the ward. It always amazes Sakura how chakra lives in non-combatants - a proof that it exists beyond duty. And proof that it can, perhaps, one day exist only for beauty. 

“Do you think he takes confessions?” Sakura whispers. Gaara’s lips quirk upwards, knowing that she knows the difference between a priest and a monk and yet indulges her. “Perhaps. If he does, let me know.”  They’ve all got sins to unload, Sakura muses. And yet, despite being weighed down by all the choices she’s made and been forced to make, it’s not what spills from her mouth when she finds the monk a week after. 

Or rather, he finds her. Coughing, old and sitting on her table. 

There’s something about him, lungs barely holding on and yet still at peace, old age running lines on his face that had her saying, confessing - “I believe I am lost.” 

The monk pauses, eyes torn away from the window and gravitating towards her face. Sakura doesn’t expect a response, after all, he hasn’t said a word to anyone for years. But, he shakes his naked head and offers her a smile, “Nothing is ever really lost.”

That night, she receives a missive from Konoha, like she’s been receiving for the past eleven months but this time, there are two of them. One is a response to the report she wrote about the progress of her study in prosthetics and the other, the other smelling of home and written in a piece of old weathered paper. It almost makes her smile.  Mr. Ukki misses you. 

Sakura doesn’t stay long after that. She fears that if she stays so near to home, its voice will overpower her roots’, and the sea has been waiting for her since she was born. 

She bids Suna goodbye after a year of staying within its walls. She hugs Kankuro tightly, hold Temari’s hand and kisses Gaara’s cheek. 

The Kazekage blushes underneath his hat and Kankuro jibes, “Well, if this is what farewell feels like, then you should say goodbye more often.” 

For months, Sakura moves from town to town, village to village. Occasionally receiving scrolls from Konoha, asking her to lend assistance to a new ally or an old enemy.

It’s funny, how a great military power apologizes for its sins. Never acknowledging it, never calling it reparations, preferring the term “aid” when it only ever is leverage. 

How odd. 

How hypocritical. 

(Sometimes, Sakura wonders if Uchiha Itachi was truly a loyal ninja of Konoha or if he was yet just another blinded soldier searching for idealism in a corrupted system. Was he a victim, truly? A hero? A martyr? To what end? For whom?) 

In her bones, Sakura feels time slipping faster and faster, and despite these emerging thoughts, she wonders if spring has begun in Konoha. 

She claims her free tea from Sasuke at a small town on the border of Iwakagure and Takigakure, almost half a year after she left Suna - two years into her journey. 

“You need a haircut, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura greets and watches in satisfaction as the hobo-looking man looks up to her as she sits in front of him. His hair has grown longer, covering part of his face, finally succumbing to gravity and bidding the duck-butt style goodbye. 

“Sakura.”

There’s something in the way Sasuke speaks her name. When they were kids, it’s always with dismissal and when they went on, it’s with a tone of chained fondness. During the war, it’s with disdain turned acknowledgement. 

When they were in Konoha, Sakura could swear that she could hear pride in Sasuke’s voice, hidden behind the syllables of her name. 

Here, he calls her with surprise melting into relief. Perhaps, being alone has taken a toll to her wayward teammate. 

(Here’s the difference between the two: Sasuke is looking and running from something, Sakura knows where she’s going. Whether or not she’s running or looking too is irrelevant.) (Kind of.)

“Hey, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura smiles and waves a waitress down, “Fancy a cup of tea with me?” 

Sasuke nods, his lips tugging upward. His dark eyes linger on the spider silk strands of her hair against the orange setting sun.  Her hair’s grown longer, almost as long as when they were genin. 

For a short moment, he’s filled with dread, struggling to remember what young Sakura looked like. He’s starting to forget, perhaps, and it is both a blessing and a punishment. 

The shadows shift and stretch under the guidance of the setting sun, and they exchange stories of the road until the moon nudges the sun to rest. 

It’s funny how easy they fall into bed together, right after tea. 

Sakura’s childhood dreams featured more of a courtship, a promise and a marriage. Teenage Sakura’s fantasy featured more heated kisses, a fight and a leveling of a forest in rage turned lust. 

But this, this is so much better. 

Sasuke touches her with surprising gentleness and want, after they trip their way to his accommodations. There’s a softness in the firm kisses of his mouth, a tremble playing at the edge of his fingertips. It’s not a battle, or a dance but rather an introduction. A hello followed by oh... gods, yes, there -- 

Sasuke makes it good, despite only having one arm, it must be an Uchiha thing to be so good at everything, Sakura thinks as she lay beside her former team mate. 

In a different life, perhaps, she would’ve married Sasuke, she thinks as she watches his lashes flutter as he sleeps. Perhaps, she would’ve give him a child, a girl with his eyes and her hair. A pink-haired Uchiha. But this is not that lifetime. 

Instead, Sakura meets Sasuke again - or perhaps for the very first time - as a lover. Washed anew by his journey, Sakura gets to know her former teammate as a man who can reel out moans and gasps from her, who can, after they decided to travel together for a while, and will start a fire to keep her warm and will tease her about her love affair when he reads Kakashi’s letter over her shoulder.  “Was he the reason why you didn’t come with me?” Sasuke asks. They’re in the Land of Snow, farther from where Sakura really aims to go, but she’s got time to spare and Sasuke might actually be killed by the Raikage if he’s found shuffling around near their country without an escort.  Sakura glances at the words written on the wrinkled parchment (Naruto’s taking classes with Shikamaru. Lots of reading for him to do. He tried using Kage Bunshin to study and knocked himself out. Time is of the essence, he said, and I agree.) and pinches that flicker of hope budding in her chest. 

She shrugs at Sasuke’s question, “I think... I think I wouldn’t have gone with you even without him in the picture.”  Something sad flickers in Sasuke’s eyes before it’s gone, “And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are.” 

In the frigid cold of the snow, Sasuke moves against Sakura as an apology and a goodbye. It’s more than comrades sharing warmth but less than lovers making love. At the back of Sakura’s mind, she wonders if Kakashi knows - if he’s angry or if, like always, he understands.  (She misses him, even when they’ve never had each other like this. But the intimacy of sex is trumped by the intimacy in battle, in handling each other with precious care, scars and blood be damned. It is an intimacy borne of desperation, fostered by respect, watered with fondness -- and killed out of love. She misses him, but time is of the essence.) 

Sasuke and Sakura split up at the outskirts of the Land of Stone at the start of her third year of travelling. He went East, she went West and that was that. A few days in, Sakura enters Asakura.  Asakura is the city of heathens - prostitutions, gambling, and underground dealing. It’s the city of sin, which means, it’s also the land of base instincts and humanity stripped to its bare bones. 

It seems like a city just right up her shishou’s alley. Sakura only had to follow the sounds of bellowing, of bodies of men flying out of tavern, and murmurs about a (beautiful but) crazy bitch burning through her own money to find Tsunade. 

News of another jinchuuriki kage reaches her ears too, but she brushes it away.  It’s been three years since she last saw her shishou and in the dim lights of the tavern, she’s glad to see her as youthful as ever, and tries to erase the image of her wan, old, and dying. 

It is only after Tsunade wins that Sakura approaches with a bottle of sake on hand. 

Glancing down at the large money of pot she just won, Tsunade’s heart pounds hard looking at the girl she broke and trained and broke again until she remade herself - her daughter in all but name - and chokes, joking, “Are you dying?”

When her girl smiles, all calm and accepting, and raises a bottle of the most expensive sake Tsunade ever tasted, something inside the old Senju crumbles.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Oh Sakura, what have you done?”

Tsunade’s hands are shaking, the fading glow of her uselessness mocking her in the darkness of Sakura’s rented room. 

“Everything, shishou. I’ve done everything. I’ve read every book, prayed to every god--”

“God? What good is a god?”  

Initially, Tsunade refuses to let her go. Forces Sakura to stay put with the same glint in her eyes when she taught the kid how to dodge, but it seemed the Slug Princess taught her too well. 

Because after the barbs, sarcasm and nights of getting way too drunk off the pots of money Tsunade continues to win, Sakura says goodbye. 

And Tsunade, not as bitter as she would’ve been, lets her go, and curses the gods for not taking her instead - because hasn’t she witnessed to many deaths already? 

It’s at the fourth year of her journey does Sakura finally lays her eyes on the blue of seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands. The calling is silent now that she’s come. 

She sheds her old life -  her headband, her gloves and her boots and brings out the vibrantly colored fabrics from her parents. It’s silk against her pinkened skin, and the sand is warm against her feet. 

It feels like a hug and a song of - “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.”

Kakashi writes to her and Sakura doesn’t answer with a letter of her own. 

Instead, she sends Kakashi eel that she herself smoked, a small vial of pink sand and a kiss on a card.

That night, she dances under the moonlight like a flickering moth around the pyre she built. 

The oceans sings for her and she is home. 

After that, there’s no more letters from Konoha. 

In the middle of the fourth year of her journey and the year mark of her semi-permanent residence by the seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands, Ino visits her. Ino, with her platinum blond hair arrives, still beautiful even with sweat dripping off her.

It takes three days of sunbathing, flower weaving and rebuilding of an old friendship before Ino asks her to come home.

“Haven’t you been away for far too long?” Ino asks, quiet and grown. The days of high-pitch screams and name-calling seems so far away from this little shack by the sea, in this little life her best friend built for herself. 

They’ve spoken of their friends - Naruto’s marriage, Shikamaru’s courtship fo Temari, Ino’s love with Sai and they laughed like bells but Ino didn’t find an ounce of longing in her friend’s eyes, and she already knew she has lost. 

Sakura looks to the shore, there’s a storm coming and hums, “Perhaps.” 

The last letter she receives from Konoha is not a letter at all.

It’s a missive, an invitation - for the Rokudaime’s retirement and the Nanadaime’s ascension.

“God? What good is a god?” 

Who knows? For believers, gods are good for much but--

Because Sakura is not a reincarnation of a god, when she touched Kaguya with her fist glowing green and blue, Sakura touched something not human.

And it touched her back. 

A year into the peace, it rooted deep inside her bones, a poison of the gods against humans brave and stupid enough to lay hands on them. 

It doesn’t take long for Sakura to understand her predicament. She was rotting inside out. Her chakra is poisoning her organs, taking bits off her little by little and so she left Konoha. In leaving, she left what was blossoming between her and Kakashi too in hopes that perhaps she could spare him from this pain.  

But also, she left for this: the sea, the calling and the sand under her feet, and the presence drawing near. 

On the last day of her journey, five years after she left, with her life force draining and yet stretching still - holding on, waiting, the Rokudaime, Kakashi, the man of a thousand jutsu, her lover, her love - arrives on the shores of this little island west of Whirlpool. 

He is older, of course he is. But still, Sakura runs towards him and he, mask pulled down, feet bare and eyes warm - finally free-, takes the last step and meets her halfway. (There’s still much left to say, but they’ve had years of dealing with cowardice and hiding that they’re laughingly easy habits to break.) 

[a-stitch-in-time-and-space]

Cardassians aren’t Nazis (and also not quite the USSR, but I see where you’re coming from)

TW: for much discussions of Nazism, fascism, persecution, no details

So tottering around as a lover of DS9 and (disclaimer) as a major fan of the Cardassians as a not-yer-generic-villain type villain that then become less of a villain, because you can’t assign villainy to a whole species + also being German and hearing/watching/reading a lot of analyses that compare them to Nazis is inspiring me to write this (gasps for breath at the end of that sentence).

@tinsnip , @handsome-anne

1. Who were the Nazis that the Cardassians are specifically being compared to (versus neo-nazis/alt-rights, etc. that they’re not being compared to)

Short version: Post WWI the Versailles Treaty fucked over Germany in a way that left it wide open to the sort of megalomaniacal little bastard on a powertrip that fed on people’s fear and pushed them into a far-right disaster. The Nazi party itself didn’t have a ton of members, but it basically eroded any kind of democracy the country had and decided it would scapegoat Jews, Romani, communists, queer people, and other “intelligent elite”/political dissident and then spread those ideals across the world like a demented wannabe roman Caesar state. This didn’t last too long in the grand scale of world history, but left a body count of 6 million+ dead, mainly Jewish.

2. Germany and its relationship to this history

So Germany tries pretty hard to teach people this history in schools, through memorials, in film, etc. It’s not perfect by any means, there’re still discussions on how to make reparations, as well as neo-nazis and other far-right people around still, sadly just like in the rest of the world. 

But it’s not covering up these atrocities, because there’s a belief that the way to make sure it doesn’t happen again is to be honest. Sadly, not everyone around the world gets as detailed a history surrounding its origins, happenings, and aftermaths, nor does every country engage with its own past like that.

3. Let’s get fictional (Cardassians, first impressions)

The Cardassians are a species that we mainly meet first through their subjugation of the Bajoran people, and then on DS9 following the immediate aftermath of the occupation on Bajor and everything that follows on from there. Throughout the story we discover various bits about what they had done - labour camps, mass executions, forced prostitution, and in that one Voyager episode I’m not a fan of because it didn’t have the range, experimentation.

On the surface, pretty comparable to the nazis, I get it. Hell, often that’s definitely “the source” of where the writers are getting their ideas.

4. So they’re... Nazis?

The problem comes when using one fascist regime as a go-to for these atrocities. It ignores the reality of fascism beyond this particular point in history and also it’s just not that simple. 

When looking at Nazi Germany we also have to look at the source of its making, the climate around it (countries like the UK having a nazi party, Italy and Spain having fascist dictators, hell, the list of dictators that were/are not German is disgustingly long, the worldwide anti-semitism making surrounding countries apathetic or even sympathetic to the Nazis, etcetc.) and the aftermaths of WWII.

The Cardassians are not Nazis. (As an aside the Federation are not the brave allies, but that’s another post for another day.) I’ve seen them compared to the USSR - both by official writers and fandom - which I won’t comment on seeing as I am not from anywhere that was affected by that (I’m not East German, but I do have East German friends), but at least this points out that one cannot compare Cardassians to a specific atrocity that happened at a specific time with specific connotations surrounding it. 

Is the Obsidian Order the Gestapo or another secret police? Which secret police? Is Garak “the good Nazi” trope - but then how does that align with Cardassians living under a repressive regime for centuries, not a few years, and therefore take into account an indoctrination and climate of fear created over several generations? No child “born” into the nazi regime became an adult while it was still lasting, unlike the Cardassians (and many other real life dictatorships and fascist states - as well as "democratic” states that have similar kinds of surveillance, oppression, mass-imprisonment and disappearances, and camps).

Is every Cardassian soldier a “nazi”? How does one compare that to polish and french prisoners (see Pierre Seel for a particular harrowing account, all the trigger warnings apply) who were forced to fight for the Germans and put on the front lines? 

Eugenics, labour camps, and every other atrocity has been practised by numerous regimes, both in history and now, can we shrug off every country that’s participated in them for the sake of making the metaphor “easier”?

How does the aftermath of the Cardassian Union - when they’re attacked by the Klingons and themselves occupied by the Dominion and then have their main planet bombed to the point of millions dead - align with Nazi Germany?

5. It doesn’t.

It doesn’t. It doesn’t neatly align with any other fascist or military dictator-led regime either. This is not saying that there aren’t aspects obviously borrowed from history (and can easily apply to now). This is saying that in trying to bend the Cardassians into Nazis specifically, people are ignoring every other aspect about them and in my opinion doing a disservice to those who suffered under the actual regime. This is a fictional world, with fictional people that is based on an oppressive society template. It is also a fictional world in which the people themselves are oppressed (especially if you align with what’s written in Andy Robinson’s book) - I’ll be getting back to that point in a bit.

 I would argue that making it “about Nazis” is too easy. This isn’t about “us” this is about “them” those evil bastards from wwii. It strips the Cardassian story of any current-day relevance. One can look no further than one’s own society to see people struggling against acknowledging histories, being treated as second-class citizens, etc. No need to go back in time to do so.

It also strips the Cardassians of any three-dimensionality. If they’re just villains then why are we rooting for their uprising to succeed at the end of season 7? Why do we want their society to flourish, their people to no longer have a broken court system, and their secret police to stop training and recruiting children if they’re Nazis, the convenient shorthand for über-evil?

Cardassia isn’t about a past society, it’s about our society. If we empathise with the Cardassians and don’t cast them as villains, then it’s a discussion about our own oppression and privilege. And it’s a damned good scifi allegory (even if I sometimes don’t think the writers and showrunners quite understand it themselves - death of the author and all that).  

6. To conclude

I didn’t mention Bajor as much in this, because I was very focused on Cardassians, but I would argue that while there is value in casting them as “space Jews” (as I’ve seen here and there) because I understand the value of representation and I am not taking that away from anyone (I hope), similarly if one reads this take as the only valid one  it ignores the reality of religious oppression on a wider scale and also that the Bajorans’ oppression at the hands of the Cardassians didn’t happen for the same reasons as the Jewish genocide at the hands of the Nazis - I would also argue that in making Cardassians = Nazis / Bajor = Jews, we similarly ignore that the Nazis were and are not alone in perpetuating anti-semitism, which kinda again leans into the “Good Federation (the Allies) Versus Evil Cardassians (Nazis) - because none of the Good Allied Countries have ever/are currently involved in persecution or dehumanisation *stares into the void*

And lastly - bringing back a point I made earlier about Cardassians themselves being oppressed by their own government - something that is often forgotten when people talk “Nazi tropes in genre fiction” is that the first country the Nazis occupied was Germany. I’m mentioning this, because it’s interesting in the metaphor, but it’s also conspicuously is absent in the simplification of how these reads are applied. It’s easy to cast the Cardassians as a whole as Bad People, but it makes for worse story-telling and has uncomfortable undertones of how the world reads Germany’s people as being at fault as a whole as well, without taking into account the specific events that we were globally complicit in - and once again the metaphor falls apart, because allegory doesn’t work so easily, and it shouldn’t.

TL; DR In general I am uncomfortable by “Nazi’s used as tropes” in any fictional world. One shouldn’t sacrifice analysis nor simplify history for the sake of making it easier to make a quick point about “bad guys” and forcing allegories into one shape makes them lose their power.  

Also watch German films on Nazism and European ones on WWII if you’re looking for some better takes (also Cabaret, one of the best movies ever made).

[studiesof-fandom-primaryblog]

The Journal of Fandom Studies

Volume 1, Number 2, 1 October 2013

Augmenting fan/academic dialogue: New directions in fan research by Paul Booth [DePaul University]

Fan studies as a discipline is still in its infancy. But even given this nascence, there have been significant shifts in the ways that it has theorized, studied and investigated fans over the first two and a half decades of research. As scholarship, fan studies has moved away from ethnographic investigations of fans as the main object of study to focus instead on the output of fan discourse as the key mode of examination. At the same time, scholars like Henry Jenkins and Matt Hills, both central to the discipline, have opened dialogue about the nature of the fan/academic, often called the ‘aca-fan’. This article uses the lens of aca-fandom to analyse fan answers to interview questions at a large Midwestern Doctor Who convention. Fans were asked about the role that fan studies has played in their life, how they perceive the study of fans and whether fan studies as an academic discipline has an effect on their fandom. The fans’ answers reflect a critical awareness of fandom but a general ignorance of fan studies. This article argues three points to take away from this. First, fan studies needs to refocus attention back onto fans themselves through ethnographic work. Second, the discipline needs to refocus its output less on esoteric academic titles and more on popular venues. Finally, fans and academics should engage in specific dialogue to open up avenues for new fannish and academic exploration.

A case of identity: Role playing, social media and BBC Sherlock by Ann McClellan [Plymouth State University]

Many fans of Sherlock Holmes are now extending their interest in the famous sleuth into the world of social media. In particular, the BBC’s modern adaptation, Sherlock, seems to have grabbed the public’s attention with multiple character role plays on Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr. It remains unclear, however, whether to categorize these narratives as fan fiction or role play game. This article explores the genre differences between fan fiction and role play game and identifies specific genre characteristics that place social media fan narratives in the role play game category. While adaptation studies and much of fan fiction center on issues of fidelity to the source text, role play scholarship emphasizes recreating the world of the sourcetext. Role playing both expands the boundaries of the original series in that it provides viewers with more—more stories, more character development, more adventure—but it is also limited by the constraints of the original show’s characterization and overall narrative arc. Online role play characters must speak like their source characters, they must interact with other characters from the show in textually appropriate ways, and they must respond to new situations in ways that are consistent with their televisual counterparts. Looking specifically at BBC Sherlock role plays on Facebook, Tumblr and Twitter, this article explores the ways in which contemporary audiences are using social media to challenge traditional understandings of genre, world building and fandom in order to approach a greater verisimilitude of play.

‘Drinking the Kool-Aid’ of cult TV: Fans, followers, and fringe religions in Strangers with Candy and Veronica Mars by David Scott Diffrient [Colorado State University]

This article explores episodes of the contemporary American television programmes Strangers with Candy (Comedy Central, 1999–2000) and Veronica Mars (UPN/CW, 2004–07) so as to ascertain and discursively frame the complex relationship between cults (or neo-religious organizations) and cult TV. Although different from one another in many respects, these two TV series share an interest in the cliquish formations of high-school life that divide students into warring camps of insiders and outsiders. Moreover, both programmes contain pivotal episodes in which the ritualistic practices of fictional cults are presented ambivalently – as a source of humour yet also as a gateway through which the unconventional female protagonists pass on their way to self-discovery. That journey has extraordinary resonance for fans or ‘followers’ of these programmes. As argued by Jonathan Gray in his recently published work on ‘affect, fantasy, and meaning’, fans and followers are viewers who are ‘most involved in their consumption’. As such, Strangers with Candy and Veronica Mars deserve scrutiny as steadfastly worshipped texts conducive to the kinds of meta-consumptive discourses and practices that might shed light on culturally entrenched attitudes related to neo-religious activities. 

Community clip show: Examining the recursive collaboration between producers and viewers of a postmodern sitcom by Rekha Sharma [Kent State University]

In the new media landscape, exclusive communication within a TV show’s creative team or amongst its fans is no longer sufficient to maintain the continuation of the programme. Instead, a community arises through the collaboration of those behind the scenes and those in front of the screens. By utilizing interactive technologies, showrunners and audiences have redefined notions of media consumption and mass media. An illustrative case is NBC’s postmodern sitcom, Community (Harmon, 2009–). The show features metadiscourse on media production, responds to viewers’ feedback and preferred narratives and shares the creation of meaning with the audience. As a result, the show has developed an ardent following because viewers feel their concerns are directly addressed by the show’s creative team. Further, their contributions challenge the conventional belief that fan interpretations are merely secondary discourse to the primary television text, as Community fans’ works have helped shape the televised narrative. One episode, Season 2’s ‘Paradigms of Human Memory’, deals with the creators’ and viewers’ mutual conceptualization of time and reality encapsulated in the series.

‘I’m not a lawyer but …’: Fan disclaimers and claims against copyright law by Jenny Roth and Monica Flegel [Lakehead University]

Fan fiction has become increasingly widespread, and online discussions between fans about fan fiction and copyright reveal the extent to which fans are both governed by and resist copyright law, as they understand it. As complex agents both within and outside of law, writers and supporters of fan fiction reveal the problems of speaking against law from a position that is regulated by law, a position creative re-producers are forced to occupy in an increasingly copyrighted, patented and trademarked world. So long as those whom the law is meant to regulate see themselves as legitimate shapers of that law, even though they inhabit space outside the formal mechanisms of law or the legal world, the law will not be effective. When fans with little or no legal expertise invoke and interpret copyright, they reveal that copyright does not attend to the complex realities of creative production, nor the very active consumption, engagement with, and re-articulation of cultural artefacts and texts in society to effectively police at the grassroots level.

Continuing The West Wing in 140 characters or less: Improvised simulation on Twitter by Inger-Lise Kalviknes Bore and Jonathan Hickman [Birmingham City University]

Sharing some of the findings from a study of fans tweeting as characters from US TV drama The West Wing (NBC, 2000–2006), this article uses data from Twitter observation and fan interviews to examine how participants negotiated the structures of Twitter through this activity. In particular, we consider what implications that negotiation has for the resulting fan text; for how participants perform fandom through this medium; and for how they perceive the value of their fan practice. Through this investigation, the article demonstrates some of the ways in which Twitter facilitates and constrains articulations of audience engagement.

Keywords: Doctor Who; aca-fan; academy; convention; fan; interview; BBC Sherlock; Facebook; Sherlock Holmes; fan production; role play; social media; world building; Strangers with Candy; Veronica Mars; cult TV; cults; fandom; religion; active audiences; interactive media; postmodern sitcom; television fandom; textual poaching; virtual community; authorship and authority; copyright law and legal discourse; fan policing;  fanfiction; law and society; producer/consumer relations; TV drama; Twitter; audiences;  online communities; television.

[germanreich]

Guren guren guren

Title: In the Absence of the Demon

Disclaimer: This is a fan-made translation from Chinese translations! Please go easy and enlighten us on any mistakes or deviations from the original light novel. All credit goes to the original author and illustrators. - Hyaka and Kuro Shion

——————————————————————————————

‘This is Ichinose Guren-sama.’

This was heard in one of the classroom of First Shibuya High School.

Until recently, everyone here should have been an enemy.

What greeted them originally was only scolding, ignoring and a cola bottle thrown from goodness knows where –

Opening the classroom door, there were a few students whispering in the corridor.

‘I heard he was selected as Kureto-sama’s direct subordinate.’

‘They say he was hiding his real strength, but was found out by Kureto-sama.’

‘He’s on good terms with Shinya-sama too, and his strength has even been acknowledged by those two from the Mito family and Goshi family.’

‘So which idiot said he was a rat from a bad family?!’

‘You said it yourself.’

‘No way! Stop joking!’

Guren himself, however, was ignoring those upsetting conversations. He sat at his desk, supporting his face with his hand and daydreaming. Evidently, he was lacking in sleep.

Overnight, he had been in the backseat of a car on the Tomei Expressway, bound for Tokyo via Aichi at 150 km per hour. During that time, his mind was fixated on what might happen in the future, and so he was unable to have a good sleep.

‘……’

Guren squinted his eyes, half-asleep, and gazed out the window.

Although it could not be felt in this classroom with its excellent air-conditioning, outside it was so hot that the scenery seemed to be enveloped in a heat haze.

Today was the 20th of August.

For normal schools, it would be summer vacation, but in this school there were no such holidays.

According to the news, the temperature these few days had set a new high. Why was it so hot? If the heat persisted, it might lead to stored food going bad, but since the world was going to end this Christmas anyway, to worry about food going bad would be utterly meaningless.

‘…… Guren. Guren!’

Someone called his name.

But Guren did not notice and continued to look out the window.

The owner of the voice grew angry and forcefully rapped the table.

‘Hey, Ichinose Guren! Why are you ignoring my questions?’

Impatiently, Guren glanced towards the source of the noise. There stood a girl from his class.

Her most noticeable characteristics were her bright red hair, strong gaze and pale white skin.

This was the daughter of the prestigious Jujo family – Jujo Mito.

She continued to speak.

‘Every day, you don’t train and you always have this dazed, dumb attitude…… has the fame from being noticed by Kureto-sama made you so arrogant?’

‘…… Who’s arrogant?’

Guren countered, and Mito angrily replied.

‘I’m talking about you! Ichinose Guren. In class you act as there is no one around you, during physical education and spells class you don’t use your true strength. What on earth do you want!?’

Faced with these questions, Guren was troubled over how to answer. In the first place, the content covered in class here were already below his intellectual level. There was simply nothing worth learning.

However, everyone here was his enemy, so there was no need to let all his enemies see his true strength.

And so, every day, Guren acted lazy and pretended to be a half wit – but even if he explained all this she would definitely still not understand.

In the Hiiragi family, to have value or to be famous – in the eyes of the people here, this was something to be celebrated.

Hence, for Guren to become arrogant or proud was not surprising, for this was something that was worth feeling proud over.

So was it better to act out that happiness? However, be it his terrible attitude or hidden true strength, both had already been seen through by Kureto, so was it still necessary to hide everything to such a degree?

In the midst of pondering all these, unexpectedly –

‘……Uwah~’

A yawn leaked out of his mouth.

This angered Mito even more.

‘What kind of attitude is that?’

‘Your yelling is making my ears hurt.’

‘First of all, just now during physical training, I saw that you lost to a classmate in an instant…… How can this be? Your strength shouldn’t be so low!’

Guren shrugged.

‘No, I really do only have that much strength.’

She grew even more furious.

‘And that is exactly the kind of attitude that gives others a headache!’

‘Headache? Why? You have no reason to have a headache.’

Mito spoke intensely.

‘Of course I do! If you laze about, those from prestigious families who hang out with you will also be laughed at and shamed, haven’t you noticed?’

No wonder she was so angry.

In other words, being Kureto’s subordinate, Guren was now grouped with Jujo and Goshi, so if his bad attitude were to be seen, he would also drag down the reputations of the others.

Guren smiled and said.

‘Why do I have to be concerned about your reputation too?’

‘That is because…… We are all Kureto-sama’s subordinates, in future we will also be companions working together, so……’

However, Guren was no longer listening.

Companions.

They were companions?

Kureto-sama’s subordinates, companions?

This was certainly fortunate, to be personally chosen by Kureto-sama to be one of his underlings.

This thought surfaced in his mind.

‘…… Haha.’

Guren laughed in a self-depreciating way, before yawning and continuing to support his head with his hand.

‘Hey Guren!’

Mito called.

The male sitting nearby began to laugh.

Hiiragi Shinya.

‘Come on, Mito-chan, don’t bug him anymore. It’s not like his laziness and disappointing attitude is anything new.’

Mito showed a respectful face to those of the Hiiragi family.

‘Ah, Shinya-sama. However……’

‘Anyway, to someone of his caliber, the curriculum taught at this school must be pointless. Right? Guren? Don’t you agree?’

‘……’

When Guren ignored Shinya, Mito grew angry again.

‘Hey, you! How dare you ignore Shinya-sama’s words!’

Hearing this furious shout, the people outside started to whisper again.

‘Hey, looks like that rumor was true. He really is on good terms with Shinya-sama and that girl from the Jujo family.’

‘So, does that mean that rebellious Ichinose branch family has sworn allegiance to the Hiiragi family… to Kureto –sama?’

Hearing that voice,

‘……’

Guren once more stared out the window and gently bit his lip.

In the past, the Ichinose family had been the most loyal to the Hiiragi family, and among the branch families had been the most prestigious and powerful.

But 500 years ago – they split with the Hiiragi family, and set up the religious sect ‘Mikado no Tsuki’.

With regard to the situation then, there were no exact reports, but the reason for this was something everyone knew well.

The lone reason, was simple a love story.

A heart-rending love story.

There had once been a beautiful Ichinose girl, the Hiiragi’s eldest and second sons both vied for her favor.

After a series of complicated events, the girl’s affection was successfully gained by the second son.

According to legend, the eldest son was unable to accept this reality.

Thus one night, the eldest son raped the girl, impregnated her and had the second son castrated.

After that, the eldest son had his own son, the girl and the second son cast out of the family.

The exiled second sun, together with the Ichinose girl, then set up the new religious sect ‘Mikado no Tsuki’.

However, their defeat was still apparent.

After all, when all was said and done, the eldest son was still heir to the Hiiragi family.

The one leading ‘Mikado no Oni’, was the heir to the Hiiragi family.

However, the eldest son did not destroy the organization set up by the second son and the Ichinose girl.

The reason for this, was to humiliate them.

So that the Ichinose girl who had not chosen him, and the younger brother who had betrayed him, would be laughed at and scorned for eternity.

He allowed them to live to suffer humiliation.

To allow their descendants to always bear the scorn of others.

Of course, the castrated second sun could not produce children with the girl.

Hence, the child born of the rape by the eldest son – the Hiiragi boy became the adopted son and heir of ‘Mikado no Tsuki’.

The second son was always scorned.

The girl was always scorned.

The two of them continued to deeply love the other. Yet everything other than this was taken away.

Everyone in the families scorned them.

Humiliated them.

This was the price of betrayal.

The price of betraying the Hiiragi family.

And so, everyone in the families became used to scorning the Ichinose family.

That was why the Ichinose were always rats.

From the moment they were born, they were dirty, smelly rats.

Only, after a long time, all this simply became urban legend.

To the new generation’s Guren and those of the Hiiragi family, this was no longer a topic of importance.

That was why Kureto could calmly issue orders to Guren. The eldest son of the Hiiragi family, had forgiven the Ichinose family.

While this could be seen as violating tradition, it was still a reasonable thing to do. Anyway, things like the ancestors’ love stories, no one really cared about.

Being the loner among the ten families comprising the Ichinose, Nii, Sanguu, Shijin, Goshi, Rikudou, Shichikai, Hakke, Kuki and Jujo, the Ichinose should be the strongest.

If that family would follow Kureto-sama today – this was important enough to be a significant topic of discussion.

It could also be due to his controlling nature that Kureto-sama took Guren under his wing.

Recess was coming to an end, class would resume soon.

Hence, Mito huffily returned to her seat.

As she did so, she was also teased by Goshi.

‘You really don’t learn, huh. Why bother with Guren? Or do you like him……’

‘Shut up!’

Goshi had only said halfway before he was slapped.

Goshi laughed.

However, the rest of the class dared not to laugh. They were afraid of the revenge that came from laughing at a member of the elite families.

And so, everyone could only show kind, sincere smiles.

In the end, whether it was Jujo or Goshi, they were both venerated by the others.

The teacher was already standing on the teacher’s platform. The fourth period of the day began.

This class was on the ways to counter and deal with Western magic, a topic in which Guren had little interest.

Shinya, sitting next to him, lightly tapped his shoulder.

‘Hey Guren.’

‘……’

‘Hey.’

‘So noisy.’

‘Well, this is class. So try to speak softer, okay?’

‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

But Shinya pulled his chair closer, leaned on Guren and whispered in his ear.

‘…… If I’m speaking so softly, will I anger the teacher?’

Guren turned with a face full of irritation.

Shinya was still smiling widely. In this school, there were no teachers who dared show wrath towards those who bore the Hiiragi name, Shinya was only saying this for fun.

Guren did not say a word. Shinya annoying him was also perfectly normal, there was no need to respond.

Yet Shinya did not seem to care and continued to whisper in his ear.

‘Tonight, <Hyakuya Sect> will come. So where shall we meet up?’

In this instant, Guren could not help the widening of his eyes.

His gaze locked onto Shinya.

This was not something that should be said in a school run by ‘Mikado no Oni’.

If they were to be overheard, they would immediately be arrested and tortured.

However, Shinya was still wearing his usual smile. Evidently, before saying these words he had already made untold preparations.

If so,

‘……Don’t scare me like that.’ Said Guren. Shinya grinned again.

‘That’s because it’s not good for you to always ignore people and even make Mito-chan angry.’

‘Stop joking around. I’m not interested in playing around with you.’

Guren said, directing a stern gaze at Shinya.

‘I’m not joking. I’m also not interesting in silly games.’

Guren stared at Shinya.

Shinya merely smiled and let Guren stare.

Guren had no inclination to trust Shinya.

Shinya had given him the piece of the chimaera called <Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse> that Mahiru had left behind, so to some extent he could be trusted, but if he let down his guard, he might be taken advantage of.

Therefore, it was necessary to act cautiously.

‘……’

Guren did not reply.

Taking the initiative, Shinya placed a piece of paper on the table. On it was written the address for rendezvous that night.

Shinya had left his fingerprints on this paper. If Guren gave it to Kureto, the place where they were to meet the <Hyakuya Sect> would be ambushed by the Hiiragi family, and Shinya would also be killed that day.

In other words, Shinya had exposed his weakness to his opponent.

With a shocked expression, Guren asked.

‘…… Why do you trust me?’

Shinya smiled.

‘Why don’t you instead say that you’re amazed at my alertness.’

‘Because your face annoys me.’

‘Ahaha. Even though I look so friendly?’

‘Shut up.’

‘….. Anyway, you may know nothing about me, but I’ve always heard about you.’

‘……’

‘Ever since I was young. From the time I first met Mahiru… Because, she always talks about you.’

Shinya said thus.

Guren smiled coldly.

‘Then, did you go mad with jealously? You really like Mahiru, right?’

In response, Shinya smiled lightly.

‘To be accurate, I have good feelings towards Hiiragi, but I don’t like her to that extent.’

‘……Humph.’

‘But, I really am jealous of you.’

‘Huh? Why?’

‘I’ve always been imagining what you were like. I wondered about if you were to appear before me, which of us would be stronger, and what you looked like, etcetera.’

This made Guren remember.

When he first entered the school, Shinya launched a surprise attack on him.

Of course, even now he could not ascertain the truth of his words, but maybe to some extend he was trustworthy.

Even so.

Guren picked up the paper Shinya left on his table and slipped it into his pocket, taking care to preserve Shinya’s fingerprints on its surface.

This action that purposely preserved the fingerprints was noticed by Shinya, who smiled.

‘How prudent.’

‘To avoid the fate of the trash that is not street-smart and is disposed of.’

Hearing him say this, Shinya was a little upset, and said.

‘…… That self-pitying talk…… If it were Mahiru she would definitely put on an annoyed expression, why on earth does she like you?’

‘Maybe my face looks friendlier?’

When Guren said this, Shinya looked at him in apparent surprise.

‘…… Ha, hahaha.’

He laughed.

Guren cast his gaze outside the window.

The schoolyard, as expected, was filled with dry heat.

It was summer.

Summer.

If this world were to end on Christmas day, this would be the last summer ever.

———————————————————

After class and club activities were over, the phone rang.

The caller ID read <Hiragi Kureto>.

The main candidate to be the Hiiragi heir, the student council president that no one in school could disobey.

After pressing the ‘Answer’ button, he heard the other’s voice.

‘What?’

‘No. Is there anything you need of me, Kureto-sama – that is how you should say it.’

‘Do you like oppressing your subordinates that much?’

‘Nah, just joking.’

‘Your jokes aren’t funny at all. Have you been spoilt so much by the higher-ups that your brain has also spoilt? (TN: Hurhur, pun intended)

‘Hahaha, do you want to die?’

‘I dare you to try. Do you think it’s such an easy feat?’

‘……No. But, you know, I really like that attitude of yours.’

‘Sigh~ What attitude do you like?’

‘Although your way of speaking is very sharp, when you cannot win against me you clearly recognize your own status; this attitude.’

‘……’

Guren did not respond. Because this was a fact. Right now, he could not afford to be surrounded by enemies.

‘Mikado no Tsuki’ could not afford ‘Mikado no Oni’ as an enemy.

This was not a simple child’s fight. Even if he attained victory with his sword, it would be meaningless.

If the people he respected and treasured were labelled as criminals, even the pregnant would not be spared.

Just like 500 years ago.

The situation had not changed at all.

Mito and Goshi, who had finished packing and were ready to go home, walked over.

Goshi saw Guren and snickered.

‘Making a call right after school ends, could it be your girlfriend.’

Mito overheard this, and –

‘……What!?’

For some reason she stared at Guren.

Guren ignored her and continued to talk on his phone.

‘Anyway, what do you want?’

‘During lunch break tomorrow, come to the student council room.’

‘No.’

‘Haha, you don’t have the right to refuse. See you tomorrow.’

‘Bleh.’

Before hearing the sound of Guren sticking out his tongue, Kureto ended the call.

Shinya, who was sitting beside him, lifted his head to ask.

‘Kureto-nii?’

‘My girlfriend.’

Hearing this, Mito rushed over.

‘…… Wait, wait a minute! You’re still in training, how could you engage in such leisure activities as dating?’

What on earth was this girl saying.

Guren stared at her with an irritated expression, before sighing and ignoring her. Mito was immediately angered and glared at him forcefully. Seeing this, Goshi burst out laughing for some reason.

Guren did not take notice and instead scooped up his bag and left his seat.

Behind him, Mito muttered angrily.

‘Why is he rushing off just because a girl called him? What rubbish.’

Hiding a smile, Shinya told Mito.

‘That call just now was from Kureto-nii.’

‘Eh? What, really?’

Shinya had overheard.

‘Are you going to the student council room now?’

Guren shook his head.

‘No, tomorrow, during lunch break.’

But hearing him say this, Mito was even more unsettled.

‘Wait, wait, you really talked to Kureto-sama like that? That question just now……’

‘How annoying.’

‘What annoying! Wait……’

To the sounds of Mito raging, Guren left the classroom. It seemed that Mito was not yet done ranting, so Guren bluntly closed the door.

In the corridor, Sayuri and Shigure were already waiting for him. They were now in the class just next dor.

‘Ah, ah, Guren-sama. We have been waiting for you!’

Shigure then spoke coldly.

‘Did those disreputable people from the Hiiragi family do anything to you today?’

Behind him was Mito who was complaining ‘Those who are disrespectful to Kureto-sama will blah blah blah’, now, in front of him was his aide who was calling the Hiiragi family disreputable.

Half wanting to burst out laughing, Guren resisted and replied.

‘Nothing at all. Just as usual.’

Sayuri still showed a worried expression.

‘What do you mean, as usual? Did someone throw a cola bottle at you?’

Shigure’s face immediately went cold.

‘If so, we must kill everyone in the Hiiragi family.’

From her uniform skirt, she pulled out a knife. She was serious.

But Sayuri did not notice this and spoke cheerfully as usual.

‘Oh yeah, Guren-sama! What do you want to eat? Whatever Guren-sama wants to eat, I can make it……’

‘Curry.’

‘Eh, again~?’

At this moment, the classroom door opened. Mito walked out and noticed Shigure’s cold glare.

‘Ah, Yukimi-san…… Such a scary expression, has something happened?’

‘No, nothing at all.’

‘Even so, it is better to speak of happy things here. As such, there are some things Yukimi-san should also tell Guren. With the disrespectful manner in which he treats Kureto-sama, right now Guren’s position is not very good.’

However, Shigure directed her cold glare at Mito and answered.

‘Guren-sama did not do anything wrong.’

‘Being his aide you always cover up for him……’

‘Outsiders have no right to criticize the master of my house. Your voice is very piercing, can you keep it down a little?’

‘……Uh.’

And so Mito embarrassedly silenced herself, casting a silent plea for help towards Guren.

‘Why’re you looking at me?’

Guren said, which made her blush for no reason.

‘…… I, I only, I was only thinking for your sake……’

‘Don’t pry into others’ matters.’

Goshi walked out from behind Mito.

‘Alright, stop teasing Mito-chan. Today’s that day right? The day that everyone plays nice and goes to Guren’s house to play, right? So let’s all get along.’

But this was the first time Guren had heard of such a thing.

‘Huh? What’s up with that?’

Guren burst out. Grinning, Goshi explained.

‘Well~ you see, we’re all united as Kureto-sama’s subordinates, so sometimes we should get closer right?’

‘No, never heard of that.’

‘Yes. Okay. Since I have just come up with such a brilliant idea, let’s all go to Guren’s place.’

‘Stop kidding. That would obviously never happen.’

Unfortunately, yet another nuisance emerged from the classroom, this time it was Shinya who walked out.

‘What, what? Such an interesting idea. I also want to go~’

His expression filled with annoyance, Guren whipped around to leave.

‘What idiots. Let’s go.’

And so he left, which Shigure and Sayuri following.

However, Sayuri occasionally glanced back over her shoulder.

Hearing the sound of footsteps, Guren asked.

‘……Are those three following?’

‘Yes.’

‘…… Haa, those idiots really took it seriously.’

Shigure lifted her head to ask.

‘Should I destroy them?’

‘If you can even shake off Mito, that would be not bad already.’

‘…… That is true…… Uuu…… I am not strong enough, I am very sorry……’

‘No, forget it, I’m not angry or anything.’

Guren gently petted Shigure’s head, causing her to look at him in surprise. On her usually emotionless face, a dazed expression seemed to emerge.

Compared to this, the reaction from the side was much bigger. Sayuri’s face was filled with panic.

‘Ah! Ah! What was that just now! Shigure is so sneaky. Me too! I also want to be petted by Guren-sama!’

But Shigure grabbed and restrained Sayuri’s hand, saying.

‘…… No. Last time Sayuri confessed to Guren-sama and was petted, this time it’s my turn.’

‘Eh~ Yuki-chan is so sneaky. I also want to be petted.’

‘No.’

‘But, but.’

They argued so, but the two aides were already showing expressions of understanding.

When petting Shigure’s head earlier, Guren had slipped the paper Shinya had given him behind Shigure’s ear. On it was written the time and location of the meeting.

2am.

Hikarigaoka Park.

In front of the tennis practice courts.

This was the meeting with the <Hyakuya Sect>. Naturally, the name <Hyakuya Sect> was not written on this paper, but there would definitely be preparations to be made. Weapons had to be readied. Or perhaps they would have to move stealthily and not let anyone notice.

Shigure spoke.

‘Putting the jokes aside, today I need to take in the laundry, so I shall head back first. What about you, Sayuri?’

‘I need to go the supermarket. Today, everyone……’

She glanced back. Guren confirmed it.

‘Probably so. That bunch is very annoying, we can’t shake them off.’

‘I see. Then just to be on the safe side, I will prepare their shares too.’

As Sayuri said this, Goshi snuck over.

‘Ah, to be able to eat Sayuri-chan’s homemade cooking? I’m really looked forward to it.’

Sayuri answered his smile with a cold aura, before saying.

‘Then I shall prepare curry, Guren-sama.’

With this parting statement, she turned and quickly walked away with Shigure.

Seeing them leave, Goshi sped up to walk side by side with Guren.

‘…… Guren you really are sneaky~ to have two such cute girls serve as your aides.’

Shinya also walked side by side with Guren.

‘You could just ask your family for the same.’

‘Ah, Shinya-sama… Nah, I’m not as good as my younger brother. Actually, they don’t really think much of me……’

‘But now you are Kureto-nii’s subordinate.’

‘Oh yeah, that’s true. After that all my attendants’ attitudes towards me changed, but that immediate change is what’s repulsive…… It feels like my brother is also more nervous……’

The two people by Guren’s side chatted as they walked.

‘You’ve really made up your mind to come to my house?’

As Guren asked this, Goshi nodded.

‘Yeah. Can we?’

Shinya then smiled.

‘Ah, is it that? You’ve hidden many R-rated books in your house, so us visiting is a problem for you?

Actually, it was not because of hidden porn magazines that he felt trapped. Even if it were people from the Hiiragi family who came to check, they would still not find anything of significance.

Why did Goshi suddenly want to visit Guren’s home? Shinya had also taken notice of this issue.

No matter how you put it, today was the day that they might meet the <Hyakuya Sect>.

Was it possible that Kureto had found out about this –

That the meeting tomorrow afternoon in the student council room was just a cover, and that he actually knew that they were meeting the <Hyakuya Sect> today.

Guren directly interrogated Goshi.

‘…… Were you ordered by Kureto to keep surveillance on me?’

Shinya looked over at Guren and Goshi. Evidently, he had also been thinking about this.

Goshi shrugged.

‘Nope. I haven’t gotten any instructions from Kureto-sama.’

‘Then why do you suddenly want to come to my house?’

‘Because we are companions.’

‘Huh?’

‘We are also classmates, if this were a normal school, it would be the summer holidays now.’

‘So?’

‘It’s the time for everyone to play together. Right?’

However, Guren wore an expression of complete befuddlement and shook his head.

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’

Goshi laughed.

‘Really? Okay, the truth is that~ I got scolded by my parents yesterday.’

‘Parents? What did they say, that you have to gain as much of Kureto’s favor as the Ichinose?’

Goshi shook his head.

‘No, no, the opposite actually. They said that the Ichinose trash are still traitors and will soon be shunned again, so I should not associate with them so much.’

His parents certainly had foresight, thought Guren in his heart. However, it seemed that Goshi intended to ignore his parents’ criticism.

‘You should listen to your parents, or you’ll become bad.’

‘So what if I’m bad.’

‘You rebellious rascal.’

‘Haha, just like those who steal motorcycles for a joy ride? That also seems like a great activity for summer~’

‘Go die.’

‘Hahaha’

Goshi laughed.

From the side, Shinya asked.

‘Does Goshi have a motorcycle licence?’

‘Ah, no. What about Shinya-sama?’

‘Me neither. But I can ride one during training.’

‘Ah, me too~ but it’s more fun to take the public’s possessions? I also want to ride a motorcycle bike.

Even as they conversed, they continued to follow Guren. Obviously, they planned to follow him home.

In the middle of Shinya and Goshi’s discussion of motorcycles, Mito spoke.

‘…… Can I, um, ask you something?’

It seemed that she also intended to follow Guren home.

‘…… Um, just now, you petted Yukimi-san’s head.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ah, that…… that……’

‘What about it?’

Mito was having trouble forcing the words out.

‘…… The two of you, uh, are going out?’

‘Ah?’

‘Uh, or is that even if you are not officially dating you would touch your subordinates so tenderly? Or unless, unless, even at night……’

‘What are you saying?’

‘To lay a hand on your subordinates who cannot disobey you, what kind of person are you……’

‘You’re really noisy.’

Guren let out a sigh and stopped listening.

This group of rascals, what were they up to since just now? Their inane chatter was just like that of normal school students. In the first place, to play with friends, this idea was something Guren could not understand. To gather at his house, what did they want?

Was it to play poker?

‘……Good grief.’

They walked out of school.

The weather was the usual oppressive heat.

There were still students training in school. This was the type of school it was. Even if the <Hyakuya Sect> attacked and decreased the school population, no one would stop to rest.

The order to lockdown all information had yet to be rescinded. Only the few in the higher ranks knew about their state of war with the <Hyakuya Sect>.

Even so, small conflicts were taking place unceasingly. Not just in Japan, but even in the branch organizations all over the world, fights were starting to take place.

Hence, to say that the headquarters of ‘Mikado no Oni’ in Shibuya was the most peaceful place left on earth might not be a lie.

Even the <Hyakuya Sect> could not easily lay siege to Shibuya.

However, this school with its concealed traitors was a different story.

As Guren looked around the school, he thought of all the things Mahiru had done.

About dyeing this school crimson with the blood of students, and the things he had done in his youth.

Mito noticed his distant gaze.

‘……Time passes really quickly, huh.’

Was Mito also comparing the schoolyard before her eyes to the scenes of that day?

The scenes of blood and corpses everywhere.

‘Yeah. That’s true.’

It seemed like he had made no progress forward at all, but time was already slipping away.

Mito spoke.

‘In this short time, I’ve already been saved by you twice.’

‘It was just luck.’

She laughed bitterly and lifted her head to gaze at Guren.

‘…… You said it was by luck, but wasn’t it because of it that you ended up grievously injured and comatose for a month?’

‘I was just careless. Furthermore, sleeping is my hobby.’

‘You’re always cracking jokes to change the subject…… But, Guren.’

Saying this, she gripped a small piece of the back of Guren’s shirt.

‘……I really want to show my gratefulness. So, I want to repay you.

‘Repayment, huh. Like how?’

‘…… Like, until the day Kureto-sama officially acknowledges you, and gives you the position of honor you deserve in ‘Mikado no Oni’, I will always support you.’

Nosing into affairs that were not hers – this is what Guren thought, but did not say aloud.

‘…… Furthermore, the current Guren, father would never accept……’

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing, just talking to myself.’

For some reason she stepped back shyly.

Guren really couldn’t understand her feelings.

He could not understand Goshi’s feelings either.

Why care about the Ichinose trash? Why support him? In Aiichi, the research on Kiju, that if discovered by the Hiiragi family would be severely punished, had already begun.

Yet this bunch of people trusted him so easily.

Companions? Friends? To gain position under Kureto? These kinds of words were too foolish.

It was just as Goshi’s parents had said, the traitorous Ichinose family that was rotten to the core, was too dangerous to get close to.

But even so they said they wanted to be friends. They said that they wanted to deepen their friendship as fellow subordinates of Kureto. It seemed that they did not suspect him as all, and were still innocent and happy in their roles as the young mistress and master that were coveted by their families.

‘……’

Could he kill these two with his own hands?

Guren mulled over this in his head.

Because they were enemies, enemies of the Ichinose family, there would come a day when it had to end. When that time came, could he do it with his own two hands?

In Ueno he had not killed them. That should have been the time to do it, yet he could not. Whether or not this was the right thing to do, he had no idea. It was not a matter of principle. The point was that he should have acted, but he could not.

– I couldn’t do it.

‘……’

This sentence reverberated in his head.

Once again he recalled Kureto’s words to him.

‘Although your way of speaking is very sharp, when you cannot win against me you clearly recognize your own position.’

Kureto had said this before.

But was it the truth?

His ambition was ultimately just empty talk, if Shigure and Sayuri were to be captured and held as hostages, would his ambition be so easy dispelled?

Or was it that he still held such an innocent way of thinking that he could not even kill Mito and Goshi?

If so, he should just discard his ambition. For he had already dragged in his comrades in the Ichinose.

The war had already begun.

It had already begun long ago.

Despite all this, Goshi exhibited no anxiety at all, and asked with a face filled with expectation.

‘Hey, is your place far away?’

‘If I say it’s far will you go home?’

‘No way.’

Guren sighed.

‘It’s not that far…….’ He replied tiredly.

Translator’s comments

Hyaka: The history of the Ichinose and Hiiragi is so dark. Guren can also be very dark. Also, why is Guren so popular? First Mahiru, then Shinya, then Mito, not to mention Yuu-kun, Shigure and Sayuri…

K. Shion: Cos he is Guren that’s why. .__.