#exposing my interest in sustainable fashion

[telltaleanatomicalheart]

honestly, i understand wanting to be different in like fashion and music taste hair color etc. i think people are entitled to their own self-expression. so if they dont wanna share where they got their top...thats completely fine. i think ppl on the internet are jsut really entitled to other people's lives and this leads to like the overconsumption of fast fashion. some fashion is one of a kind and rare, learn how to sew or smthn leave these people alone. also its dangerous to go online and tell everyone where you shop where u live where u eat where u work...internet saftey people..

ik some peoples defense for serious consumption fo fast fashion is that it makes high fashion designs attainable but theyre expensive for a reason (and sometimes for no reason bc ur paying for the house name like prada versace etc.) and they end up just opressing another class of people bc they feel opressed by a class of people. lets break teh cycle with critical thinking and empathy please, i cant with the capitalized becoming the capitalist trope (im lookin at u grimes...) but like the same people will go online and get mad at small businesses/designers for charging a fair price for their items that they make themselves and are well made and ethically sourced then buy the ripoff made in sweatshops like pls

[ardn632krista]

Reflection

The concept behind my manipulated image series is to highlight the negative impacts of fast fashion on society and the environment and to discourage overconsumption. Many photoshoots addressing an issue leave viewers feeling hopeless, which is why I not only wanted to address the issues caused by fast fashion, but also to provide a solution for consumers. That solution is to buy second-hand clothing. 

Throughout my research looking into fast fashion photoshoots, I was drawn to a photograph by Michael Zahornacky. (Zahornacky, 2021) The photo was a model standing in a studio, tied up by a multitude of garments. This photograph is a reference to overconsumption of fast fashion. This photo stood out to me because the artistic approach the photographer used is visually striking. The garments are a variety of vibrant colours which draws the eyes of the viewer to the subject, and the plain background allows the subject to stand out. The execution of this shoot allowed the message to be clear, concise and provokes viewers to think critically about fast fashion and overconsumption. This is something I aim to achieve in my final manipulations hence why I took this shoot as an inspiration to my work. 

I also looked into Stella McCartney’s campaign about fashion waste where she shed light on the alarming waste and environmental impact caused by the fashion industry (Laville, 2017). There was an interesting photograph by Harley Weir taken for the campaign which was a model shot laying on top of a Scottish landfill site (Weir, 2018). The image’s purpose was to raise awareness about fashion waste and to expose the behind-the-scenes of the fashion industry. This was an effective way to capture the raw truth. The contrast between the model in a ‘stylish’ outfit against the waste was strong and moving. 

My first manipulated image is a direct reference to the alarming amount of fashion waste that ends up in landfill. Fast fashion brands mass produce clothing to keep up with micro-trends that come in and out of fashion frequently. (Copestake, 2021) In order to keep up with these fast-paced trends, fast fashion brands use low-quality products and unethical labour to market their clothing at a low price. This inexpensive clothing is bought by consumers and discarded of quickly due to their poor quality and adherence to micro-trends. Mass amounts are then dumped into landfill and take up to 200 years to decompose due to being made in synthetic materials that are not renewable sources. (Center for Biological Diversity, n.d.)

I used a clean New Zealand landscape in contrast with the waste mountain to show the severity of the situation and to exhibit our beautiful nature that is at risk. The flag is a Zara clothing tag, to symbolize what fast fashion brands conceal, and the real causes that occur behind the scenes. I added an overlay of plastic to emphasise the waste aspect. 

My second manipulated image is to symbolise overconsumption. It portrays the outcome of buying into micro-trends from fast fashion brands. The subject is tied up in fast fashion tags, taken inspiration from the Zahornacky photograph. The background of clothing is to visualise overconsumption in a fashion context. This is also inspired by Weir’s photograph of the subject at the Scottish landfill site.

My final manipulated image is to portray the solution I propose: to buy second-hand clothing. There are many methods consumers can take to avoid contributing to the issues caused by fast fashion, such as buying sustainable clothing made by ethical brands, but this is not always realistic considering these brands are usually expensive. I chose this solution because it is an affordable and sustainable way to combat these issues of waste in the fashion industry. This photograph is shot in an op shot which had warm overhead lighting which caused a yellowish tone to the photograph. This gives of the feeling of nostalgia which supports the idea of buying second-hand clothing. In order to add coherence to this photo series I added the landscape background to this photo. This highlights to the win for the environment that comes with thrifting. 

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.  

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.  

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

   Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Sad Ending

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Death, blood, injuries, what have you.

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: When you're reunited with Damian after year's of being apart, what he doesn't know is that you're there to say goodbye

A/N: This didn't quite turn out how it played out in my head but ig that's partly because I wasn't able to put in the filler parts in between cuz it just didn't fit. In hindsight I could've written a few more k's of words to fit it in but I reached my limit so I hope y'all enjoy it.

Your eyes were trained onto the figure in the crowd of the gala. The same figure it had been pinned to for a few weeks now and it would continue to be that way for as long as you could.

Damian Wayne was just as beautiful as you remembered him, with sharp eyes and a gorgeous face that had your heart leaping to your throat with a simple look. But you believed that the world wasn’t blessed with eyes gifted enough to see the true beauty of him.

A beauty that only someone who knew him on the inside would.

Everything about him was compelling, gorgeous, familiar. You watched him from afar in longing, wishing that you could go up to him but still you kept your distance, fearing the worst if he knew you were here.

Still, you remained selfish, indulging in your desires to get whatever glimpse of him that you could. You kept him away from you however, knowing that once you got a taste of him, you wouldn't be able to pull back.

But it was tough, you had missed him, so much.

Even so, you were content simply watching him.

You thought you were sneaky, that Damian didn't notice. Of course, you overestimated yourself, or underestimated him. And of course, in the traditional Wayne fashion, you had to expose yourself in the most dramatic and eccentric way possible.

The famous Damian Wayne, son of reputable and not to mention rich Bruce Wayne was attacked at the bank by a bunch of thugs, armed with weapons. The security was taken out swiftly and you imagined that Damian would quickly disarm the man threatening him with a knife.

Instead, he made no move, not even bothering to look remotely interested and just held up his hands like he was bored. The bandit, trigger-happy and confused, pulled back the blade in his hand, to try and stab him.

The crowd gasped and whimpered but were silenced by the man pointing a gun at them. Damian still didn't look phased. Instead, he lazily tilted his head until his eyes locked on your figure, hidden in the shadows. You stopped dead, watching carefully as he stared at you, completely tuning out the man putting his life in peril.

When the thug moved again, to try and stab him and Damian still didn't make any move, you leaped from your place before your mind could even process it, wedging yourself between the both of them and quickly disarming the man.

He fell to the ground, screaming in pain when you knocked the weapon out of his hands and then twisted his arm, hearing the painful crack of his shoulder getting pulled out of its socket.

You glared at the man behind you from the corner of your eye, "You could've gotten hurt."

He shrugged, "I knew you'd step in to protect me."

You scoffed, "You put a lot of faith in someone you haven't seen in years."

He just smirked in the infuriating way you knew he would before moving from behind you as more men came at you. With his help it didn't take long before they were all on the ground, either knocked out or groaning in pain.

"Um, can someone call an ambulance for these guys?"

When you turned, Damian was watching you with a small smile and your heart fluttered in your chest. You should've kept him at an arm's distance, you should have left but in the moment all you wanted to do was be in his arms.

Before you could even help yourself, you crashed into his chest like a falling star, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing in the familiar scent of him. He held you tightly against him, cradling your head lovingly and gently pressed a kiss to your hairline.

"The league." You whispered to him, remembering why you were here.

Damian shushed you, tightening his arms around you and you were in a safe haven, sighing in relief against him. For a second, all the fear and guilt you had been feeling melted away.

Nothing else mattered as long as you were in his arms.

"We can discuss it back at home, (Y/N)." He muttered, now pulling away so he could lead you away from the police and reporters to his car.

You stared at your fingers intertwined with Damián’s, the engagement ring on your finger glimmering brightly under the sunlight and smiled unconsciously.

"I missed you." You sighed, feeling his fingers tighten around yours. Damian spared you another smile over his shoulder before you caught up with him, leaning into his arm.

"Me too, beloved."

****

"You should get some rest, beloved." Damian muttered, as the others began leaving the room. Your shoulders were still tense but you managed a smile, nodding at him.

"I'll just wash up and join you."

He smiled gently at you, raising your hand and placing a fluttering kiss to your knuckles before leaving. You watched the door as it slid shut and it was only then you let your expressions melt back onto your face.

"You may have the others fooled, but don't think for a second that you've pulled the wall over my eyes." Came from behind you and you froze, eyes widening.

You spun around to see Damian's brother, Tim, inch his way closer to you, figure stiff and guard up.

"Because Damian knows you, I'll assume your identity to be true. Damian was quick to trust you and the others followed suit but something's not adding up. Why are you here?"

His eyes were sharp and his gaze cut right through you. You didn't realize it but your hands were shaking even though you tried hard to maintain your composure.

"I—I told you," You croaked, cringing at your suddenly choked voice, "I was giving up on this life. I'm turning over a new leaf and hiding from the League until that happens."

"Then why come here?"

"I told you—"

"I don't believe you. You know why? Here's the problem with your story." He spoke, coolly, "Take it as a puzzle. The puzzle pieces all fit, but the picture, doesn't make sense. Why come here? When you're on the run from the League of Assassins no less?"

You were floundering, quite pathetically you might add, unable to think when your mind was flurrying so violently. It didn't help that Tim was speaking in such a condescending and strict manner that it intimidated you.

"Here's what I think happened; either you're here to lead the League to Damian, waiting until he's vulnerable and his guard is down to strike." He spat, "Or, you're not running from them at all. You're waiting until they find you."

You hesitantly raised your eyes to meet his, "You can't tell Damian."

"Since you even tried to entertain the fact that I'd hide Damian means that it's the latter. But why?"

"I was hand-chosen by Talia to be Damian's betrothed since birth. They handed me down to one of the main sergeants to be raised as their own. Except, they weren't that happy to have me." You explained, watching as his features smoothened over with realization.

The gears in his head were turning and you could only assume what was going on in his mind. He was a great detective; you could understand why he had Ra's' acknowledgement. But that made you all the more nervous, trembling hands holding onto the material of your shirt tightly.

"I was raised by them to be the perfect daughter, the perfect wife. As the person who was going to continue the 'Al Ghul' bloodline. However, soon after I was already perceived as a failure." You murmured, keeping your voice low in fear of any other Wayne's poking their head around and over-hearing.

"When Damian left the League to stay with Bruce." Tim realized and you nodded.

"Things just got worse after that. I sustained an injury from a mission and couldn't walk for a few months. My step-family was called on a mission for the last few of my recovery. When they returned, they were unaware of my progress but I decided to keep up the act that I was still unable to take care of myself. It was a few nights after that I heard them plotting to kill me since I became a liability and a shame to the family."

The man in front of you chuckled humourlessly, rubbing his tired face with his palm, "What kind of fucked up Cinderella story is this?"

You shared his sentiment, "Only difference to the original is that my prince never came. So, I had to take matters into my own hand."

Tim's eyes widened, "(Y/N), why is the league after you?"

You released a shuddering breath, "Damian can't find out."

He bristled, "Damian would protect you."

"And that's exactly why he can't find out. Damian would die to protect me, and if he tries to step in that's exactly what's going to happen."

"Then why come here? Why bring it to our home?"

You hid your face in your hands, "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to be selfish one last time. I was completely content with just watching him from a distance, I guess I overestimated my abilities. When we met, I was hoping he'd turn me away. I was hoping he'd tell me that he moved on and never wanted to see me again. I was hoping he'd tell me that he didn't feel anything for me."

Your eyes began watering and you felt the urge to hide and cry. Everything was getting messed up. Guilt took over you when you remembered how bright Damian's face was when he saw you, how right his hand felt in yours. How could you do this to him?

"Damian would want to know." Tim told you softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder but your body stiffened up. He couldn't find out. He just couldn't.

"Are you really willing to put the life of your brother at risk for a girl you just met today?"

"You seem awfully keen to die." He commented, and you felt slight grief at his words. Of course, you didn't want to die. Not now, not when you were finally back in Damian's arms. Not ever.

You sniffled, biting your lip, "Damian shouldn't have to pay for my sins. I do."

His hand tightened on your shoulder and you found comfort in the warmth you could feel through your clothes, "I'll keep your secret."

Sighing in relief, you hugged him tightly, "Thank you."

****

When Damian woke up, his eyes flickered between the lamp beside him on the nightstand and then to the window. It was still dark outside, he assumed that he was woken up because of his usual schedule. It wasn't like him to miss patrol but the others suggested that he take a day off to rest.

He turned his neck to see that you weren't in bed beside him and wondered if last night had been a dream. It wouldn't have been the first time that he dreamt of you being by his side. But he remembered how much his heart pounded, he remembered feeling shocks all over his skin when he touched you.

And then he noticed the way the other side of the bed was mussed up, like someone had been sleeping there and he absently reached for that side, running his fingers up and down the fabric like he would be able to feel some residual warmth from your body.

Instead, the pads of his fingers came into contact with something coarse. His brows furrowed and he grabbed it between his fingers, realizing it was a folded piece of paper. Squinting and sitting up, he got a better look at it, recognizing his name scrawled in your handwriting.

'Damian.

I'm sorry that you'll have to find out this way but the League found my location a little earlier than expected. I'm going into hiding tonight. It's likely we'll never see each other again. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you this in person. Even though I know this is a missed opportunity for it and I should have summoned up the courage to say goodbye, I just couldn't stand the thought. And I couldn't watch myself break your heart. Please forgive me for this. I never wanted our lives to turn out this way, but I can't keep running away from reality and towards my desires anymore. You deserve so much more than I could ever even hope to offer you. And I know this is another mistake I'm making, but I left the ring you gave me. Thank you for giving it to me, but I think it belongs to someone else.

I love you, and I'm sorry.

-(Y/N)'

His heart rate picked up, skimming over the words a few more times. This had to be some sort of trick, he tried to decipher your words, tried to see if there were any clues, any codes but his heart clenched in his chest when he realized there was none. He pulled back the covers in a frantic motion and sure enough, the engagement ring you were given on your 18th was glimmering, abandoned by you.

Blood hammered through his ears and he threw off the covers, getting to his feet and sprinting through the doors. His feet pounded against the hardwood floors and then the metal floors of the Batcave.

"Damian? What're you doing up?" Dick asked, raising a brow as Damian marched his way down to the Bat Computer before pushing Tim out of the way and pulling up the Manor security cameras. You had managed to avoid all of them. Of course.

"We have to find (Y/N)." He said, not turning his eyes off the screen.

"(Y/N)? Wasn't she in bed with you?"

"If she was in my bed then I wouldn't be down here trying to find her, now would I?!" He bit back and then held out the note for Dick to read. Once he got through it, Dick squeezed his younger brother's shoulder as a sign of comfort.

"Don't worry, Little D, we'll find her."

"Damian, she said she doesn't want to be found. Don't you think you should listen to her and trust that she knows what's best?" Tim asked from behind him, hoping to get his brother to relax but Damian's back tensed up before he turned to his brother.

"You know something."

Tim froze, "What?"

But before he could even think of a cover story, Damian was grasping him by his collar, holding him to eye level to look the devil's grandson in the eye, "What are you not telling me, Drake?"

Realizing he's been caught, Tim pushed his hands off him, turning so that his back was facing him, "Doesn't matter. (Y/N) said she didn't want you to find out and I promised her."

He felt a little helpless watching Tim's back facing him. He didn't feel like himself. Every second that Damian spent away from you, when he knew that you could be in trouble had every part of him, every fibre of his being, every cell in his body ache with a pain he had never felt before.

Never in his life would he have thought that he would be brought to his knees by someone. But you held all the power over him and Damian would gladly kneel before you, his queen. And now he couldn't stand being away from you, he couldn't bear the ache in his nerves when he couldn't feel your skin under his.

"Tim." The silence in the cave was deafening as everyone looked between the two youngest brothers, "Please."

It was then Tim began doubting his choice. He bit his lip uncertainly, avoiding Damian's gaze and he looked to his feet, "She said she didn't want you to find out."

"Tell me."

And he did.

****

Your fingers were curled tightly around the handle of your sword, breaths coming out in sharp labours as you tried to deflect each of their offenses. There were too many of them, too many for you to take and even though you were able to dodge and counter most of their attacks, there could still hit you.

You were bloodied and shaking but you still refused to give up without a fight. They'd regret ever underestimating you, ever thinking that you were nothing more than a way to continue the Al Guhl bloodline. You were much more than that and they'd only see a fraction of it tonight.

Your resolved hardened in your veins as you sliced through another soldier, feeling more determined to get through this fight as the victor. Even though deep down you knew that it wouldn't change the end of your life, they'd never stop trying to hunt you down. But at least this way you'd put up a fight.

It was getting harder and harder to keep up the momentum, your speed and agility was retarding fast and decelerating with each hit you took. The wounds and cuts etched into your skin burned as you moved, blood dripping down your arms and legs.

Your body began going rigid, shocking in its movements momentarily as you kept flipping and manoeuvring yourself to doge the hits. That came to be a fatal mistake when your body locks up when you blocked one of the assassins, swords clashing together in the familiar sound of metal on metal.

Another came at you and your joints were locked in place, unable to move. Your mind blanked out and before you could slide the sword out to counter the other you heard someone scream your name.

You felt arms wrap tightly around your middle.

You saw green eyes.

And then you felt piercing pain in through your chest.

Damian heard you gasp in his ear and his grunt of pain echoed through your head as the katana went through him. Tears immediately clouded your vision when you felt fire burn across your middle, the blade of the sword buried into you as a painful reminder.

"Damian." You sobbed when you felt his knees buckle against yours. His body wanted to collapse, he couldn't stay standing much longer but you knew that if either of you moved, in an unsynced motion from each other, it could cause more pain to the other.

It was getting harder to breathe. You were choking on your own blood as the metallic taste filled your mouth. The sword had gone through Damian's lower abdomen but it had gone straight through your chest.

Your fingers dug into the back of his shirt, crying out into his neck, "Why did you come here?! Why didn't you stay away?"

With trembling fingers, he raised your chin so that your eyes would meet his. He was crying, the scorching pain forcing out more tears. Even then he wrenched a smile on his face.

"There's no one else in the entire universe I'd want by my side more than you. The ring is yours, my love."

Like as if on que, both your bodies crumbled towards the ground. The sword moved painfully through you and a garbled shriek left your mouth, muffled by the blood crawling up your throat.

Your head fell to Damian's chest and you heard the sound of his faint heartbeat, the sound getting farther and farther away as minutes passed. His arms were still wrapped around your waist in a lover's grasp, bodies pinned together until eventually everything went black.

Your prince came back for you this time.

What a shame the story had a sad ending.

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

[ragingbookdragon]

A Shot In The Dark

Batfamily x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes

Author's Note: I'm going to start the flow of Ghost-Maker fanfiction onto this site, watch me. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The butler cleared his throat. “Master Bruce, Ghost Maker is here.” A grunt signaled his response. “I shall take my leave.”

“I forgot you still had the butler hanging around.”

Bruce didn’t look over from the screen as the vigilante stepped into his peripheral. “Are you here about Kolkata?”

“Spice has been entering the U.S. through the black market.” He looked over. “It’s in Gotham.”

“I know. I tracked a shipment in on one of Penguin’s cargo ships.” Bruce shot him a grin that practically bled, ‘I just one-upped you’. “The same one you tagged after me.” He knew Ghost-Maker wasn’t going to take the bait, easy as it was, but still, the way the man’s jaw set told Bruce just how ticked it made him.

“The only way to stop it from getting in is to head over and stop it.”

Bruce shook his head, tapping at the screen. “Interpol can shut down the operations in India. I just want it stopped in Gotham.”

Ghost-Maker sighed. “Why do you always have to take the easy way out of things? What’s stopping you from going?”

“Tim’s got a presentation at Wayne Enterprises tomorrow, Cass has a dance recital, and Damian has a debate team championship.” He glanced at him. “I promised I wouldn’t miss them.”

“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?” he asked and the other nodded.

“Like clockwork.” He pointed to a drawer. “Hand me the instrument from the bottom drawer.

Ghost-Maker bent over and pulled open the drawer; a small carved flute rested inside, and he picked it up, examining the instrument. It was made of carved onyx, slashes of tiger-eye and jade up the sides; holes were drilled into it in a fashion telling him it would produce music if he blew into the piece at the top.

He handed it over. “Why do you have a flute in your drawer? And why do you need it?”

Bruce didn’t respond, merely bringing the instrument to his lips; he blew softly, an almost mournful sounding tone. Setting the piece down, he waited, and to Ghost-Maker’s surprise—which didn’t happen often—a cloud of black smoke began to swirl beside them. Faster and faster, it spun until it suddenly dispersed and in its wake was a woman—a rather bare woman…in a rather exposed position, her arms stretched out above her head, and one of her legs up in the air like it had been resting on someone’s shoulder and the other leg like it had been around their hip.

She let her legs fall, almost gracefully, and she heaved an incredibly annoyed sigh. “One of these days, Bruce Wayne, I will refuse your summons.”

“Well, it wasn’t today,” he quipped, spinning in his chair to look at her. “Were you in the middle of something?” his tone denoted that he knew she was, he was just being a sarcastic ass about it.

“I was.” She griped, then let her head loll back on the floor. “In the middle of silky sheets with all those fine bedfellows and now here I am on a cold, hard cave floor with no one to drive me into sexual-oblivion.” She stuck one perfectly nailed hand in the air. “Ahem.”

Bruce rose from his seat and took her hand, pulling her up and into his arms. “However, can I make it up to you, (Y/N)?”

Cocking an elegant eyebrow, she murmured, “You do not have enough resources to make up the good time you just pulled me out of.” Pushing out of his arms, she bypassed Ghost-Maker like he wasn’t standing there stunned out of his mind about what just happened.

“Is my wine still down here?” she asked, already bending down to rummage through the drawer. “Hmm, I see I answered my own question,” (Y/N) remarked, pulling out a bottle of wine so old, vintage didn’t seem to describe it. Popping the top, she took a sip and snapped her fingers, a silky black robe instantly clothing her naked body.

Leaning on the desk, she crossed one of her smooth legs over the other, idly swishing her foot. “So, why do you need me?”

Bruce nodded at the screen. “Do you know about the spice shipments in Gotham?”

(Y/N) hummed. “The shipments of spice that Penguin’s buying from black market deals that are originating out of Kolkata? Those spice shipments?” she shrugged. “I might know something. Why?”

“We’re trying to stop Penguin from getting it into Gotham.” Ghost-Maker interrupted before Bruce could say anything and she gazed at him.

“And you are?”

“Ghost-Maker.”

“Hmm.” She said, though she sounded disinterested. “Come here.”

“Why?” he questioned, though he obeyed and before he could even react, she reached up and touched his jaw. In a flash he saw every memory of his life in his mind, and she pulled away, tone curious.

“Oh? So, you are the one Bruce thinks about. The hedonistic anti-hero that copes with his psychopathy by challenging himself to fix the world.” A smirk tugged her lips. “Interesting.” Her eyes found Bruce’s. “Why is your ex-boyfriend in Gotham? I thought you did not want him anywhere near here? From both of your memories, you are both antagonistic to the idea of working in each other’s locations.”

“You just read my memories?” Ghost-Maker inquired, reaching up to touch his face. “How?”

“Telepathy, amongst many other dark things that would make even a person like you quake in fear.” (Y/N) glanced at Bruce again. “Answer the question.”

“He’s not my ex-boyfriend.”

“Wrong question and even more wrong answer.” She shot him a knowing look, one he matched with a firm look of his own and she waved a hand. “Fine, I will relent for now. What do you need to know about Penguin’s shipments?”

Bruce hit another button on the computer and a picture of a manila file came up. “It’s locked in his personal office surrounded by turrets and armed thugs.”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled pathetically, and she whimpered pitifully, “Aw, can the two of you not get into the office with your powers combined? So sad.” She raised a hand and touched the tips of her pointer and thumb to one another, then she lifted it to her mouth. She blew a single, sharp ear-splitting whistle and both Bruce and Ghost-Maker heard ringing in their ears as a dark smoke began to pool from the edge of the cave, the type that sent shivers up someone’s spine.

A low growl sounded from the smoke and out of the vapor stepped a dark hound, black as midnight, with glowing red eyes and rows of razor-sharp teeth. (Y/N) clicked her tongue and it bounded to her. She reached down and caressed its head, speaking in a language that neither Bruce nor Ghost-Maker understood.

She stood back up and pointed to the screen, uttering one more word, cold and firm. “Hunt.”

The hound barked but it still sounded like a growl, and it turned, sprinting towards the wall; it collided with it in a hail of smoke, and (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “Cù-sìth will get what we require.”

“I haven’t seen your hell-hound in a long while, (Y/N).” Bruce noted and she scowled.

“Death hounds. Cù-sìth and Garmr are death hounds.”

“And where is Garmr now?”

She frowned, looking away from him. “He is…recovering from a sustained injury.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

(Y/N) sighed and shook her head. “I appreciate your sympathy and trying but injuries that death hounds receive can only be healed by darker magic.” Her fingers swirled with her sorcery.

“Is that why you’ve been in hiding for a few months now?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I have devoted most of my time to healing his injuries.”

Bruce took her hand, gently but firmly. “(Y/N), is there anything you need from me?”

She met his gaze, holding it for a moment before sighing again. “Do you think you could find nightshade and belladonna extract for me?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, then he nudged her in the ribs with a grin. “You’re not planning on poisoning anyone, are you?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Maybe just a bit. You know, not enough to kill them but just enough to drop them out of a city government meeting where an especially important vote is being decided.” She winked. “Care to wonder who it is?”

Bruce grunted, pulling from her. “I already know who it is.” He took a seat at the computer, and she leaned against the desk, her thigh brushing the arm rest. “You’re not allowed to poison people.”

She let out a humored breath through her nose and reached out, gently carding her fingers through his short dark hair. “Joy-killer.” (Y/N) took a moment to gaze at him, then she shifted, tracing the dark circles under his eyes. “When is the last time you rested?”

“A few hours ago.”

Frowning, she corrected, “I meant when was the last time you actually had a restful sleep?” he opened his mouth, but she was quicker. “You are not getting younger, Bruce.”

“I’m fine.” He grunted and she rolled her eyes.

“You are so stubborn.” (Y/N) glanced at Ghost-Maker. “Do you get decent sleep?”

“Of course,” he retorted. “Only Bruce thinks sleep is for the weak.”

“It is.”

(Y/N) looked back at Bruce. “That’s because you are a stubborn ass.”

Before he could respond, a growling caught their attention and they all turned to the entrance of the cave, seeing Cù-sìth coming towards them, the manila folder in his teeth. She plucked it from his mouth and flipped it open, scanning the contents; when Bruce reached for it, she jerked it away and clicked her tongue.

“Oh no. Only those who have maintained a correct sleep schedule are allowed to read this.”

Bruce glared at her. “Give me the file.”

“No.”

He started rising from his seat. “Give. Me. The. File. (Y/N).”

“I think you are forgetting that I am not one of your little minions, Bruce.” (Y/N) snapped her fingers and he sunk back into his seat, compelled by her magic. “You do not tell me what to do. Ever.” She looked at Ghost-Maker. “Come with me to the docks and we will take care of this.” Then she met Bruce’s gaze again. “When I snap my fingers again you will go up to your room and sleep for a few hours.”

“(Y/N),” he warned. “No killing.”

“I will do as I wish,” she offered nonchalantly, handing Ghost-Maker the file. “You know I have never adhered to your rules.”

Bruce’s glare darkened. “I know.”

“You know as well as I that you get rude when you are tired. Sleep now. Let us take care of this.” (Y/N) held out her hand. “K, take my hand.”

“How do you—”

She ignored the vigilante’s shocked question, taking his hand and the world twisted and turned around them until the smoke cleared and they were outside the gates of the dock. “You will want to take your mask off.”

“I’m not taking my mask off,” he retorted, and she shrugged.

“Then you will be sick in your mask.”

He stared at her, then he spun around, undoing the clasps of his mask, barely getting it off his face before he was vomiting into the grass.

(Y/N) merely watched. “I told you. Magical teleportation always wreaks havoc on the stomach the first time.”

“What—what are you?” he asked, then went back to puking.

When he went down on one knee, she leaned over and steadied him. “Older than what your mind can comprehend.” (Y/N) reached down and placed a hand on his forehead, then he stopped retching and coughed a few times. “There. Your digestive system should relax now.”

He didn’t necessarily shove her away, but it was obvious he didn’t want her seeing him because he pulled from her touch and wiped his mouth, quickly pulling his mask back on. “Don’t ever do that again.” He warned and she snorted.

“What? Heal you or teleport you right to the location of your target?”

With his mask back on he glared at her, light blue slits glowing brightly. “Call me K.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, you and Bruce are so much alike.” (Y/N) hauled him to his feet by his sword scabbards and let him go, starting towards the opening of the gate. “This will be a rather enjoyable night.”

“You need adequate protection.” He said. “You’re going to get killed without anything on.”

(Y/N) tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “My, my, Ghost, are you worried about me?”

“I don’t feel empathy,” Ghost-Maker said, hurrying to walk beside her.

“That is not completely true. At least through the memories I have seen.” (Y/N) looked over at him. “You are empathetic to Bruce. It is not like my empathy to him, but on some level, you do care.” She smiled. “Nothing is completely void of some form of empathy.”

She looked over at the dock, scrutinizing the cargo ship. “There are armed guards along the pier. A frontal assault will get us caught…no airstrikes…” she hummed, then brought a hand to her chest. “I have an idea.

“Care to share?” he asked, looking over at her, and to his surprise, she transformed before his eyes, taking on the shape of one of the thugs on the ship. “Huh. That’s impressive.”

“Thank you.” She said, though her voice was much deeper, like a mans and she stood up. “I will infiltrate the ship from the front. I trust you can go through the back?”

He pulled out his swords and (Y/N) swore she could practically see the smile growing on his lips as he said, “Absolutely.”

“Then be swift.”

***

A few hours later they appeared in the cave, and she sighed, gazing at the man collapsed at the desk. “I forgot how easily he deflected magic. Even mine.” Shrugging, she left the file beside him, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “At least he is sleeping though.”

Pulling away, she looked at Ghost-Maker. “You did well this evening. Your training is almost superior to Bruce’s.”

“It is superior to Bruce’s.” he griped and she tsked at him.

“Well, from what I have seen in your memories, I am afraid you have not much proven superiority to him. Equality, yes, but not superiority.” (Y/N) hummed and smiled at him. “I hope you and I can do missions together again, Ghost. It was rather enjoyable to have a talking partner. Bruce does not like to talk unless he has to.”

As she started walking towards the stairs, he followed her. “Can I ask you something?”

“You may.”

“Where do you live?”

(Y/N) eyed him. “Why do you wish to know?”

“Your meditation techniques appear similar to mine.” He smiled at her. “I was thinking you and I could meditate sometime.”

She paused and looked him over, a hand on her hip. “You want to sleep with me? Really?”

“You already told me what I am. A hedonistic crime-fighter.”

“Technically I said antihero, but I digress.” (Y/N) stepped up to him, staring into the glowing blue slits. “But I saw your abilities…they could be…intriguing.”

“I can show you now, if you’d like?” Ghost-Maker tipped his head to the entrance of the study. “There’s enough rooms for us to disappear into.”

(Y/N) chuckled and shook her head, walking ahead of him. “Bruce would not be happy about that.” She reached the top step and turned back, grinning at him. “But worry not, Ghost. When I am ready to see you, I will find you.”

“I look forward to it.”

[hualianff]

Thrift Shoppers

BY and PX are out shopping at a thrift store. PX waits for BY to try clothes on to show him her outfits. He sees another man lounged on the only couch near the dressing rooms. The man’s long hair is tied back into a long braid, an eyepatch on his right eye.

When BY comes out in her first several outfits, PX isn’t sure how to give an opinion. He’s not stylistic by any means and mostly wears what his mother recommends. (PX comes from a well-off household, only the luxury brands are acceptable.)

As BY goes back into the dressing room with minimal comments from PX, the man with the eyepatch speaks up.

“If you want to be invited to go shopping with your girlfriend in the future, you’re going to have to put in more effort than that,” he says.

PX blanches.

“S-she’s not my girlfriend,” he stutters. The unspoken “yet” hangs in the air.

“But you want her to be,” the stranger says knowingly.

PX deflates a bit.

“Is it that obvious?” He asks. The man clicks his tongue, giving PX a side-eye.

“To her, probably not. At most, you’re giving her three-syllable answers when she asks for your opinion—which she clearly values,” he informs idly.

“I’m not the most knowledgeable with fashion,” PX admits.

The other man now gives him a once-over. “Hmm, I wouldn’t say that. But let me help with the next one.”

The sound of the dressing door opens, but it’s the door to the left of BY’s. Out steps another man in light-wash jeans and a pink knitted sweater.

“San Lang, what do you think of this one?”

“Gege, come a bit closer,” the eye-patched man responds. PX watches with interest as it seems the men had come shopping together. “Hmm, I really like the shade of the sweater. Is it comfortable?”

“Very!” The other man answers, holding his arms out to the side and wiggling happily. PX notices how the collar scoops low enough to expose his collar bones.

Was this considered the latest style?

PX sneaks a glance at the eye-patched man and sees that though his shirt isn’t revealing, it’s incredibly tight. The sheer fabric stretches tightly upon a wide chest, leaving little to the imagination of what is underneath.

PX shakes those certain thoughts out of his head. He tears his eyes away from both men who stand quite close to each other now. The eye-patched man, who PX now seems as “San Lang,” assesses his partner’s pants.

“Can Gege turn around in a circle?”

The other man complies, slow and practiced.

“The pants look a bit tight, but Gege likes them like this, right?”

“Hmm, yes. They’re fine back here-“ the man in the sweater gestures to his backside, which impressively fills out the pants. “-but if I squat down-“

He bends his knees and squats down. Both men on the couch widen their eyes in concern as strong, thick quad muscles bulge the fabric of the pants—threatening to rip at the seams.

“Okay, ahahahah, these are definitely too tight then,” the man says as he quickly stands up. “I’ll try on the next pair.”

He shoots his partner a grateful smile before rushing back into the dressing room.

PX blinks in realization.

So this was the correct way to give one’s opinion about another’s style of clothes? Not that SL was overly critical with his words, but he served as a second pair of eyes that aided his partner to a decision about the clothes.

“Don’t overthink it. Provide compliments, ask questions, and give feedback that you think will be helpful,” SL suggests, spreading his legs as he leans back into the couch.

PX, sitting with a straight back and proper leg position, vaguely thinks he needs to relax a bit.

Before PX can respond, BY’s dressing room door opens up. She steps out in a high-waisted plaid skirt reaching mid-thigh and a white crop-top that accentuates her build nicely.

PX tries to swallow but ends up choking on his spit. Out of the corner of his eye, PX sees the other man duck his head into his hand.

“Pull it together, man,” PX tells himself.

“Pei-ge, how does this look?” BY prompts, doing a cute little twirl so the skirt flares out.

“You look…beautiful,” PX honestly says. He couldn’t find any other words besides beautiful because that’s directly where PX’s mind goes when it comes to BY. He thinks she could even make a burlap sack look great.

(Also, not @ how he complimented BY herself in the clothes instead of the clothes.)

“Thank you! I wasn’t sure if the top would fit to cover enough, but I think it looks good,” BY says enthusiastically. She peers at herself in the full-body length mirrors, then turns back to PX. “I’ll definitely get the skirt. I’m going to try on a few more tops with it.”

BY reaches for the dressing room door handle, but before she can open it, PX manages to sneak in one last comment.

“The black shirt, you know, the one with the long sleeves, I think it would look really good with that skirt,” PX says tentatively.

Except as soon as he says those words, he meekly shuts his mouth. What if BY thinks his suggestions are weird? Or he’s being too pushy?

Don’t get him wrong, PX doesn’t care about his pushiness with anyone else other than BY. With BY, PX would like to be equals. He would never want to force his opinions or make her feel like her own opinions and choices don’t matter.

However, BY’s eyes light up as she takes in PX’s comment.

“That sounds perfect. I’ll try on that one next.” She exclaims. “Thank you, Pei-ge!”

As soon as the door closes, SL gives him an approving look.

“That was better. Giving feedback shows that you’re engaged in your time together. It makes the shopping experience more enjoyable for both of you. Even if it’s not your thing,” SL says.

“Right…” PX mutters.

“And don’t worry, you’ll learn to function with that crush of yours,” SL continues. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

Meanwhile, in the dressing rooms right by each other…

“Hua Lao Shi? How was that?” BY whispers through the thin wall.

“He definitely sounded winded…you probably took his breath away with your beauty,” XL whispers back, feeling like a proud father. “Keep it up.”

BY is a sophomore at the college XL teaches at. She took XL’s beginning environmental science course in freshman year and is currently in his advanced sustainability elective. BY loves XL’s methods of teaching; she hopes to become XL’s TA next year.

BY had run into XL on the way to the dressing rooms. After telling her professor about the guy she’s shopping with and hoping to date, XL suggests they get dressing rooms beside each other. That way, he can guide her in assessing whether PX is romantically interested in her.

PX, who is in a completely different school, didn’t recognize XL or his partner. XL had texted HC about BY’s simulation beforehand. HC, content to coach this child in proper etiquette when shopping with anyone you care about, sneaks a confirming glance at XL as he walks back after another mini-catwalk.

XL and HC know these two will be just fine.

Bonus:

(HC: “Gege, I may have…a crush on you.” 🥺

XL: “San Lang, we’ve been together for eight years, married for five.”

HC: 🥺

XL: “I have a crush on you too.” 😇)

[generallypo]

in all sincerity, kim dokja makes me happy and he deserves to be so too :^(

incoherent yelling and sobbing under the cut. these fEELINGS will not be contained aaauuunnghhh. 

------

anyway i binge-read all 500+ chapters of ORV this week and i honest to god feel bad for this -- completely! fictional! aghhhh -- guy. in case you haven’t figured it out, the following is some spoilerly shit

i went in expecting a fun, brainless power trip fantasy for dudes with an isekai addiction. instead, it turns out ORV is actually a gigantic, self-deprecating prank on the entire genre itself. kdj plays more into the sad -- if high-functioning-- clown trope than the sexy, edgy, chuuni bastard type i was prepared to laugh at. there were -- gasp! -- female characters with personalities! parents (aka ADULTS who act like ADULTS) who actually survive and feature prominently! adorable children! a real sexy, edgy bastard! a power trio with amazing fashion! sexual tension and bickering! friendship! life and death bonding! 

*breathes in deeply* fouND FAMILYYYYYYY.

like, yeah, the plot around the first few arcs seems a little aimless, but the buildup is worth. the world-building is pretty decent. there’s discernible effort put into the fight scenes, and i can appreciate that. but -- but! what i stayed for were the characters -- namely, the fantastic OT3 of KDJ, HSY, and YJH -- who come together despite their initial rivalries and end up saving each other’s asses, like, every other day. granted, the other characters don’t get as much focus, and they do fall into certain character tropes.. 

but a trope done well is nothing i would gripe about. every significant character in ORV has a coherent, and more importantly, respectful take on their respective trope. maybe it’s because sing-shong is actually a married couple, but all the interactions between even minor characters are a convincing blend of awkward rambling, suggestive humor, sharp remarks, and casual banter. in other words, this cast of mostly working adults (plus a teen and two kids) talks like working adults. the relationships built throughout the story are, frankly, some of most realistic of its genre. sing-shong has managed to craft a dynamic that undoubtedly brims with fluffy fondness all around, but also drips with sarcastic tension, with unspoken urgency, with a wariness that softens into sincerity over the course of many, many chapters. it’s the kind of progression that makes even stock characters read like more than just the 2-bit villain or comrade or love interest. here, we have relationships both straightforward and not, strained or otherwise, romantically-oriented as well as decidedly the opposite -- and then numerous others scattered along the spectrum with the freedom to shift either way. 

it’s also an interesting point of note that our MC kdj actually does not end up with a stated romantic partner, much less a conventional heteroromantic harem. he gets teased about that fact from time to time, but it’s with less of the sleazy shonen locker room humor one would expect and more of the good-natured ribbing you’d find among friends or that one especially nosy auntie at the yearly family reunion. kdj is a grown ass man. in the background, i applaud his maturity, and he handles all the prodding like a champ. 

so instead of finding and fulfilling his horny, he builds himself a wealth of loving family. yeah, there are beautiful men and women around him. yeah, they unequivocally adore him. but they’re also adults, and they have priorities, too -- which are not so much finding a way to bang kdj’s brains out and more so simply keeping the damn guy alive. this is truly not ‘oblivious mc with his thirsty, sex kitten harem’. it just so happens that a guy proves himself to be unflinchingly gentle and capable in an apocalyptic setting despite his broken self-esteem, and lots of people find that attractive, romantically and platonically. 

it.. kinda makes sense? he’s a hard worker, thoughtful, and good with kids. kdj is the kind of guy you know would make a reliable partner, and anybody with eyes can plainly see and appreciate that. 

and it’s not that our MC’s a total brick wall. in fact, it’s likely the opposite, and he’s just too darned repressed to admit it. from what has been implied, kdj does indeed recognize and accept love, or at least a primitive concept of it. i like to imagine that the kind of love that he ends up seeking out simply manifests itself more easily as acceptance and safety, as warmth and a home of people to return to every day. even better, the people who surround him know this, and they give him exactly that. it’s refreshing, and honestly, really sweet.

(as a side note, i really, really do appreciate the cosmic bi energy radiating off of kdj, who canonically earns the title of being loved by all and is all but in name married to yjh and hsy. he also respects women and small children and honestly anyone who isn’t total scum to him or his family. i respect that.)

but the happy stuff aside, you know it it just ain’t ORV without the generous screaming dollop of angst. admittedly, there’s self-sacrifice, injury, lonesome wandering, more sacrifice, some epic fighting, reunion and confrontation. all of it is a lot to digest, sure, but never does it feel entirely hopeless, or truly, truly heart-clenching. ORV, up until the final act, is a mostly light read. you relax in your chair, thinking that nothing beyond this point can disturb you. 

yeah fucking right.

------

and then the beginning of the end arrives. when the squad finally break through to their ‘ending’, the scene that kind of breaks me is the reveal of the Most Ancient Dream. it ties so much thematically into the little tidbits that we get of kdj’s past, and it though it feels like almost a joke that the source of the goddamn apocalypse is a kid with bruises smeared across his skinny ass body -- it’s such a pathetic picture that it’s kinda poetic, actually. you’re left mystified but somewhat convinced, like a math problem explained halfway through. this.. child.. is a villain somehow, isn’t he?

and then 999th turn uriel speaks up, and she. just. hugs him. 

[[You are this universe’s most powerless existence, aren’t you.]] 

that. that gets me. kdj’s reaction immediately upon this revelation? absolute murder. seeing him essentially self-destruct upon realizing that all these people he’s surrounded himself with -- some who continuously proclaim their loyalty and affection for him throughout their journey, some who suffered eons of war and loss and trauma because of his existence -- not only forgive his younger self but smother him with unconditional acceptance and love is stifling, is too vulnerable and exposed and he simply can’t cope -- it’s so telling of his true mentality, of his crippling insecurity and crumpled sense of self-worth. kim dokja is a liar, through and through, so much that he fails, or perhaps refuses, to comprehend the veracity of others’ kindness and love towards himself. 

by some miracle, the events at the end of the world somehow resolve.. or so it seems. there is a departing train, a liberated team of ex-gods, and a child rousing from his slumber. in the aftermath, i am left shaking. somehow, despite the ending having been (happily?) reached, there’s still another chapter ahead. what is this witchcraft?

------

and then ah, yes -- the epilogue arc. i teetered on the edge of being critical for a little bit there -- is that display of deus ex machina, of sad, self-sacrificing nobility a bit too egregious to be acceptable? is this some wild last let-me-yank-this-outta-my-ass plot twist to drag out the chapter count? i sincerely thought that the arc before it would have been the finale. i was wrong. thank god.

anyways, as an answer to the above: no, and no. i stake my firm claim on the belief that the epilogue arc was meticulously planned out well in advance of its release, confusing and time-warpy as it is. i liked it. tremendously. even if it entirely invalidates all of kdj’s supposed development (”haha lol yeah sure i won’t sacrifice myself or anything anymore guys don’t worry about me” -- KDJ, at some point because he’s a lying rat bastard). actually, our beloved MC disappears for a large chunk of this arc, and i think it’s great. in his absence, the other characters not only go absolutely fucking nuts, but they have to figure out this new problem on their own, even if the lure of peaceful complacency in the newly saved Korea might convince them otherwise. 

and then the whole time paradox thing comes around. yjh goes to space, hsy saves the only life she can, and kdj grows up. the crew waits, holding onto their hope even if it bleeds them dry. sing-shong does a damn good job of illustrating their fraying calm, their lurking madness, the unseen but pervasive depression that seeps in from kdj’s absence. the kids lose their father, lhs and jhw lose their reliable leader figure, ysa loses a best friend and confidant, lsk -- as distant as she pretends to be from her son -- loses her only child. and then there’s hsy and yjh , who are essentially bereft of the other half of their existences. their pain is palpable, is grounded in the hopeless, gnawing frustration of an utterly meaningless victory. emotionally, ORV hits all the right -- if agonizing -- beats.

however, a story can’t sustain itself just through its pathos. i’m happy to say that ORV doesn’t drop the ball after the first milestone, and after all the hurt, the characters do leap straight back into action. even better, the plot holes actually do get patches, and the poetic cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader comes full circle by making use of all those supposedly throwaway characters from the myriad world lines. 

at the end of the road, there is a distinct sense of unity, of a delicate but undeniable cohesion to the world lines and their origins. sing-shong lets us guess a little here at the finish, but there’s just enough information to feel hopeful. maybe there never had been a definite start -- or finish -- to the story of kdj company, and... that’s okay. everybody ends up where they were meant to be, where they fought and struggled to reach. it’s.. almost like a happily ever after, if we’re allowed to dream of that.

------

now, i realize, this was all an orchestrated maneuver.

i’ll take it.

to me, all of this work sounds like someone put some serious thought into this behemoth of a plot. it cements the entire original premise of the story. it suggests -- but never explicitly confirms! -- the possibility that breaking free of the cycle is possible through the exact same system that sustains it. it’s terribly interesting -- and inspirational! with all the dramatic revelations and life-threatening scenarios  and the cast’s resigned acceptance of them that essentially make up ORV’s entire mood, there’s still that last hint of rebellious and righteous anger that lights up the whole damn nebula. it’s like the kdj company blasting away at the heavens just to yell into the nether: we’re not looking for the happy end, but the free one. stay alive.

it’s subtle, and yet it’s such an emotional gut punch. i came away with the most ruinous, frustrating, bittersweet sense of longing in ages. i pined. for these fictional darlings. god, i am weak.

so. yeah. ORV is pretty good. flawed, but ambitious and impressively thought out.  i’m stoked that the webtoon is making pretty good progress, even if it’ll take an eternity and a half to meet that monstrous chapter count. i’m still gonna follow it. hell yeah. 

------

(by the way the idea that secretive plotter and co are literally gonna take care of and raise baby kdj and spoil him and be the best friggin family a kid could ever want does things to me. protect him. he’s suffered too much. let at least one worldline’s version of him know happiness. and actually, aLL OF THEM DESERVE DOMESTIC BLISS TOGETHER IN A BIG OL MANSION WITH SUN AND FRESH AIR AND TENDER FAMILY MOMENTS UGH)

------

and there you have it, folks. you made it to the end. in the far, far distance, i’m cheering you on and crying my eyes out in gratitude. thanks for tuning in!

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

The thrilling saga of Hanamaki, the hero of stench continued well past forty-five minutes. And if the conversation would stray away from the subject, the comments issued by those seated nearby would immediately return the group’s attention to the humorous topic. At this point, the poor male was unsure whether his ego would ever heal from the damage it sustained today. But what swelled the sense of embarrassment colouring his cheeks was the fact it was all because of a bodily reaction he could not control. Truthfully – the absence of understanding was quite rude.

Dejected, the pink haired male sunk into the leather seat, until his chin was nestled against the lower part of his neck.

“Stop that. You’re going to hurt your neck.” Iwaizumi tugged at his shirt collar to dispel the second-hand discomfort he was experiencing as Hanamaki squinted at him, refusing to budge from the stance.  

“Who needs a neck anymore. I don’t. What’s the point of going on like this? I may as well die.” The unemployed male sniffled, allowing his arms to go limp on either side of him. He was searching for sympathy and yet, all you could submit to him was your laughter. If only you could grab a photo – he could easily be turned into a meme.

“Stop being so dramatic. None of these people know you, and I doubt they will remember you after today.” Steadying his elbow against the glass table, the trainer curled his fingers into a fist then supported his cheek against it. “Sorry to break it you, but you’re not that important.”

“But I will remember.” He countered, his eyes now shifting into your direction, where you were seconds from pinching Iwaizumi’s exposed cheek. Pausing mid-motion with your finger’s inches away from his face, a sheepish smile decorated your features.

“What? Maybe this is karma for calling Tooru smelly yesterday.” While the response was clearly aimed at the sulking male, your y/e/c irises remained fixated on the one you deemed your favourite. Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow in partial interest as his attention went to your hovering hand.

“That’s funny, I don’t remember your name being karma.” A low growl rumbled inside of Hanamaki’s throat, earning him a reassuring pat from Matsukawa. He would have interjected more often if he was not preoccupied by the delicious dessert plated in front of him. Dessert took priority over drama when it was the embodiment of heaven. “Look, she’s not even paying attention me anymore!”

“Now, now children. We’re all friends here.” The funeral home attendant offered without much enthusiasm, before sticking a fork coated in cream into his mouth. “Y/n, say sorry so he won’t break his neck and die.” Upon hearing his suggestion, you jutted your bottom lip into a pout in protest.

“I don’t want an apology. How am I supposed to go celebrate with your boy-toy’s business partners smelling like mutated pig?” Despite knowing no one would notice the movement, Makki crossed his arms under the table, mimicking the stance of a stubborn child.

“I’ll buy you a new outfit, cry baby. We still have some time.” After being shot down by Iwaizumi three times, defeat was grudgingly accepted. Your reflexes were no where as cultivated as his were. “Let’s settle the bill and go shopping, boys! Your sugar mama is buying!” As the declarations registered with the boys sat around you, the napkin settled onto your nap was placed onto the table.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass. I do need to grab something though for work, so I’ll meet you guys at the shop.” The trainer removed his wallet, then began removing some bills as the other two males celebrated your announcement by completing a high-five.

“I’m still buying something for you, Hajime. You cannot stop me if you are not there.” Tapping a single finger on the side of your head, a little ‘hmph’ was blown out.

“I won’t accept it.” He did not bother to lift his gaze, knowing well what silly expression would be adorning your visage. But what he did not account for was the threat falling from your lips.

“If you don’t, I’ll scream daddy at the top of my lungs right now.”

Matsukawa stifled his laughter at your threat, while Hanamaki finally adjusted his position on the chair, grinning ear to ear in amusement. Iwaizumi exhaled a long breath, pressing two fingers against the bridge of his nose. He knew that you were shameless enough to follow through with said warning.

“Fine. I’ll accept it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

**

One of the positives of being a model is that people generally trust your intuition when addressing matters of fashion. It was for this reason that both of your friends did not debate you on any purchases that were made on their behalf. Hanamaki’s only request was that you did not purchase anything Osamu would wear since the cook’s wardrobe consisted only of t-shirts and jeans. Within twenty minutes, both men were dressed in semi-formal attire, radiating a sense of prestige they would not otherwise have. You fit perfectly between them with your chosen ensemble – a black cocktail dress paired with shortcut boots. Heels may have matched far more, but the pain accompanying them was not worth it.

With an arm hooked to one best friend on either side, you felt royal even if they were not your escorts.

“What time is it now? Are we almost there?” The question was hummed out to Matsukawa, who was responsible for directing the trio. His eyes focused on the GPS on his phone before returning to the area ahead.

“It’s 7:25, y/n. We will be arriving according to the GPS at 7:29. We won’t be late… For the tenth time.” Casting a glance down at the shorter girl, he shook his head with a laugh leaving his lips. “So, you’re no longer Ariel, huh? Now you’re Cinderella.”

Hanamaki snickered at the observation, prompting you to lightly dig your nails into his arm in warning.  “I don’t want to mess up and be there late. Nakamura said to be there at 7:30 sharp. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“You’re stressing too hard for no reason. I’m sure he will be surprised if you’re there a minute late or early.” Leaning down, the funeral home attendant rested his cheek against your head in effort to sooth you. 

“You’re right…” The admission was accompanied by a weary laugh. “I just feel kinda weird in my chest. I don’t know.” Instinctively you tightened your grip on their arms, hoping to destroy the insecurities plaguing you with the warmth their bodies provided.

“I’ll text Iwa. We’ll go inside together. You’ll feel better if he’s here.” Hanamaki padded away on the screen, alerting their mutual friend that his presence was needed.

“Mm. Okay.” You were beginning to realize the negative emotions afflicting you was because you missed Oikawa. Celebrating achievements without him placed a hole deep inside of your heart – one that only he could fill with his dramatic facial reactions and goofy laughter. Little did you know the hole would only grow in size very soon. 

“Alright… So. It should be the shop right here.” Matsukawa’s voice led your attention back to the busy street. Blinking to readjust to the light, you paused when your friend did, then instinctively turned to the large windows of the shop. It was a normal reflex, one that your two friends mirrored. But none of you were mentally prepared for the scene melting into view.

Stood behind the transparent barrier was your fiancé, with three other figures. You did not pay any mind to the two men. No. Your focus was on the short blonde woman.

The same woman who was drawing your fiancé into a kiss with a fluidity that conveyed a sense of normalcy. No… She kissed him as if it were the most ordinary gesture in the world.

As if he was her lover and not yours.

Let’s do it again, shall we - human bomb

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: o.o

Taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa @iloveanime691 @bringmelily @newfriendjen @hikarichannn @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun @astronomyturtle @shegrewupwithoutafather @hyskoa1998 @deephumandragonperson @pretty-setter-bois @raenebalgaire @sugawarabby @justanotherfangirl2 @keijisworld @90s-belladonna @momoinot @sempiternal-amour @cherryblosom111 @yqshirov @haikyuufairy @volleybloop @bloody-bella @sadkaashistan @seikamuzu @namyari @toaster-stick @shakiraisawesome @coconut-dreamz @roseestuosity @prcttylittlcthing @uzumakioden @nerdynstoned @kenmasgameboy @unstableye @ouijaeater15 @aquariarose @fandomtrashpandasposts @helloalex80 @stfucanunot @envyusshades @cuddlesslut

[kevinstansanonymous]

High School but Gayer and Worse

Aka the tma/wtnv high school au crossover you didn’t want but I still provided

WTNV Cast: Cecil: runs the morning announcements, is the assembly narrator and does sports commentary

Carlos: resident mad scientist, blew up the chem lab freshman year, his scientists are other freshman who live in awe and terror of his shitty chem skills

Old Woman Josie: the nice librarian lady

The Angels: weird library kids who follow Josie around

Earl Harland: that one kid in every culinary class, you swear he’s been a junior for as long as you’ve been there

Tamika Flinn: freshman girl who feels really strongly about banned books in high school

Leann Hart: rival underground school newspaper, is suspected of causing the “mysterious accident” that put the online social media team in the hospital

City Council: principal & vice principal

Station Management: the office

The Interns: freshman who help Cecil out, they keep getting in accidents/getting sick so none ever last more than two days (except for the lesbian freshman of course)

Michelle: first chair cellist in the school orchestra, plays percussion in school band, one of the school's top trend setters

Maureen: sophomore who survived being a freshman intern, she keeps getting in what look like fatal car accidents but miraculously surviving with no harm

Kevin: was raised atheist but sophomore year created an entire religion, managed to convert half the school before faculty could get involved

Charles: new Mormon kid really interested in Kevin’s cult and also Kevin

TMA Cast: Jon: runs the school newspaper, that one kid who always asks really uncomfortable personal questions

Martin: sunshine boy, has a giant crush on Jon, went through his edgy phase sophomore year when he became friends with Peter

Elias: that shitty rich prep kid

Peter: the even richer shitty prep kid, family owns a yacht which he never shuts up about

Melanie: volleyball lesbian (she’s the spiker), her slaughter record is her deliberately aiming the ball so it hits other girls’ faces

Basira: runs one of sports team, is top of her class

Gerry: weird library kid who came up with the high school fears, caused a school wide supersitution about it

Georgie: class president and also gsa leader, once stood up to the principal which is where she got her no fear rep

Jude: no one’s sure how she got in here, everyone’s pretty sure she’s been expelled five times but she’s always there in the locker rooms offering freshman cigarettes

Agnes: prep kid that every lesbian in school has a crush on, may or may not be under police investigation for arson

Daisy: runs the chess club, school rumors about her previous anger issues but no one has any proof, had an accident and was in a coma for sophomore year

Tim: high school sweetheart, had to move away after junior year

The High School Romance™ Drama: Elias and Peter are the shitty high school couple that dramatically breaks up and gets back together every two weeks. Their drama shamelessly gets involved with everyone else's drama

Cecil and Carlos are the school’s It Couple™, they won homecoming king and king (which is this au’s version of their marriage)

Martin has a giant crush on Jon and Cecil tries to help him out using the morning announcements, cue horrible shenanigans and mishaps

Jude still has a Massive Crush on Agnes

Maureen and Maurice are still a power hipster couple, rumor has it they once single handedly crushed a freshman beneath their power

The principal, vice principal, and the entire office are all in a giant polycule

Kevin and Charles aren’t subtle at all and people keep walking into them making out in very obvious places

Steve and Abby are the brave out straight couple, they adopted freshman Janice

General Fackts™: Kevin’s broadcasts are when he locks Cecil out of the broadcasting room and takes over for the day

Cecil and Kevin are twins but their parents divorced and raised them separately (cue parent trap)

Martin performs poetry at the talent contest to confess to Jon, Jon doesn’t get it, (cue shenanigans)

Martin ends up becoming friends with Peter sophomore year, it goes terribly, (cue depressing shenanigans)

Jon and Cecil have a bitter rivalry because Jon thinks Cecil isn’t professional enough as a reporter and Cecil thinks Jon’s sweater looks dumb

There is at one point a school fashion show, the school never recovered from the damage

(Fears under the cut since this is getting long)

The Fears but in puberty this time

Vast:  fear of the largeness of the world, "Where will I go after this?"

Buried: fear of being trapped into a career path, or alternatively just normal claustrophobia, "what if I don't actually want to do this?"

Web: fear of being used, "what if they don't actually care about me?", "what if i'm being manipulated?"

Slaughter:  fear of disapproval from authority figures, "is my mom going to be mad at me?"

Lonely: fear of being unlovable, "what if no one ever likes me?"

Hunt: fear of being targeted or bullied, "will people come after me for who i am?"

Flesh: fear of being ugly or unattractive, or judged based on your body, "do people think i'm pretty?", "will they hate me for how i look?", "is my body good enough?"

End: fear of the unknown that comes after graduation, "what comes after?", "will i survive the real world?"

Corruption: well... fear of bugs, or fear of changing for the worse, "will things ever get better instead?" “Is that a fucking cockroach infestation in the locker room???” (god i hate public school)

Dark: fear of the dark, fear of the occult, "are ghosts real?", "can these superstitions hurt me?"

Desolation: fear of it all crashing down, fear of failing school or your grades being ruined, "are things this good really sustainable?"

Eye: fear of being known, of having your secrets exposed, "does anyone know?"

Spiral: fear of dwindling mental health due to school, “can i really go through another year?”

Stranger: fear of the people around you becoming strangers, fear of not knowing things, "My friends are acting different then they were before” “I don’t recognize anyone in this classroom��

[halallifemagazine]

Top modest fashion trends you need to know about

Modest fashion video today I'm sharing 2021's top trends that are modest friendly that I have been wearing and loving for the last little while now I have been loving wearing possibly overkilling is oversized blazers and oversized suits now the silhouette we've been teased with it over the years but it is really back with a force and it is here to stay now this is of course classic and super super versatile because as we know now blazers can be dressed up or down I love pairing them with jeans.

I also love wearing it belted over a maxi skirt my favorite thing to actually do is to thrift vintage oversized blazers so you don't have to go into you know an expensive retailer and you can get really great ones for energy on that note the next fashion dream that you're going to want to try out and is super modest friendly is sustainability and classics of course never date sustainability is super important for our planet and vintage I don't know about you guys but I have been a vintage thrifting gal for as long as I can remember.

So an example of vintage and classics coming together is I recently bought this oversized um  white shirt it's actually a men's shirt and I wear it with absolutely everything I love it with jeans I love it with maxi skirts I even throw it over dresses and tie it maybe in the waist just to give my look a bit of extra dimension to give it more of an hourglass silhouette or just to make things a little bit more layered and interesting more and more brands consumers all of us we are realizing the importance of caring for our planet and so sustainability is key so whether you shop from locally ethically produced brands whether you shop vintage whether you do a clothing swap with your friends.

If you are shopping sustainably you are on the right track and of course back in the day a lot of clothing was a lot more modest friendly so you are more likely to find all the pieces that cover up a whole lot better a couple of months ago  I actually posted a video on what to look out for when you go thrifting so be sure to check that video out all of those items are also modest friendly and you can find them quite often in your favorite thrift store then the next trend is baby doll dresses and with that goes puffy sleeves I'm actually wearing kind of puffy sleeves today.

The Muslim clothing trends have always proved that fashion isn't all about showing off your body. The modest clothing lines promote the very fact that revealing the body isn't elegance, rather covering it up gracefully is. Modest fashion statements remind us that keeping your body a mystery may be a better thanks to carry yourself a la mode while keeping others puzzled. this is often the rationale why gowns and Abaya dresses are being so loved lately .

Hijab adds a way of completeness to each attire you wear. it's the most focus of an amazingly modest look. so as to impeccably define your style statement, you would like to settle on the right Hijab. the proper Hijab will cause you to look bold and delightful . you'll buy the simplest Hijabs from online stores that sell modest clothing.

Gone are the times when people searched for revealing tops and slimly cut dresses with short sleeves. the newest modest fashion trends have given a U-turn to those trends. lately , layered skirts and gowns with frilled and fluffy long sleeves are like ‘talk of the town’. Look gorgeously unique in elegant layered modest attires.

For what looks like an eternity, we’ve been expecting Summer 2021, and it appears that our patience has finally paid off! Summer has here, the skies have cleared, the sun is warming our skin softly, and most importantly , people are smiling again. we've to simply accept that we've all had some difficult times, but the summer will wash all of that away. Of course, as modest fashion devotees, we would like modest fashion to be present in our lives in the least times. This one is for you if you’re seeking for a few modest fashion ideas for summer evenings. Continue reading to find out about the most well liked evening dresses for Summer 2021.

ten ways to be modest and summer it's actually a misconception nowadays you have to look modest because you follow a certain religion it has a lot of other connotations but most importantly you do you t ese tips are for people who want to cover up a little bit in summer they don't necessarily like to show much skin it could be for religious purposes it could be because you don't want to affect your skin from the Sun being so exposed to the Sun you could be doing this for various reasons let's thank the who actually recommended and wanted to see this video and let's get started picking the right materials that goes for both seasons but natural fibers are always the better choice things like cotton linen and silk.

They are breathable and that's so much needed in summer when you wear materials like elastin and polyester usually they're cheaper because of there is a reason they have plastic in them which is bad for the environment as a one side but at the same time they're bad because they clog your skin and they make the sweat that your body produces smell bad that's why sometimes you would buy this chiffon like material from I don't know Primark and then you will wear the top and then you would smell yourself and you would smell that that just smells wrong and it's not because you're wearing not wearing deodorant it's because this material just makes you smell bad and hat's because it's not a natural fiber.

[devnicolee]

The Chosen Ones (5)

Warnings: Slow burn 

Word Count: 10,079

Pairing: M’Baku x Original Character

M'Baku's hands painfully clutched the sides of the window, half of its shattered glass scattered around his feet. His eyes were transfixed on the path of smoke slowly dissipating into nothing like he was hypnotized, as if his intense stares alone could bring the woman who flew out the window moments prior back to him. Every second that passed and every mile she traveled farther away from home and him, his frustration and rage at the people left behind grew. It only took moments, barely enough time for the group to catch their breath and truly process everything that transpired, for his rage to boil over. 

"I hope all of you are happy," he said slowly, voice quiet and deadly as he turned around to face Asha's family and the remaining council members. Despite being in the presence of the Dora and the Black Panther, most of the group shrank in his shadow. Usually, M’Baku’s bark was bigger than his bite, not nearly as terrifying or intimidating as his appearance would have someone believe. But it seemed his gentle giant personality flew out the window with the love of his life and before them stood, simply, a raging giant. 

"Excuse me?" T'Challa asked as silence fell over the group. "Are you blaming this on us?" T’Challa was frustrated, already internally blaming himself for how utterly spectacularly his plan failed. He genuinely thought he was helping, and perhaps foolishly, did not even once consider this outcome. He expected outrage, anger, of course. No decision he made came without those from someone. But this? This type of catastrophe? He was wholly unprepared. But he did know that hearing someone voice the thoughts already swirling around in his mind caused rage to flare up in him.

"Well, who else is to blame King T'Challa? You are the ones who were forcing her to hide and pretend and lie. You all created t-this system that treats her like a second-class citizen, that allows people like that woman to attack her. What in Hanuman's name did you expect? That she would be able to sit here and take that all her entire life?" M'Baku yelled, his voice booming, vibrating throughout the large throne room. 

"Not that I need to justify the choices of this family to you or anyone, Shuri and I have been trying to help Asha. You wouldn't even know her, wouldn't be able to sit and judge us if I had not forced her to join the tribe and take that job in Jabariland in the first place! She didn't even want it. You have known her for what? A month? We," he emphasized, gesturing toward the sister he had left, "have been here by her side her entire life!" T'Challa voice raised to match M'Baku's as the men traded verbal jabs at the other, neither willing to shoulder the blame the other carelessly tossed at their feet.

"Yes, and some help the two of you have been while she was being emotionally abused and mistreated in her own home. This," he scoffed, "this isn't a life! What you and your parents forced upon her isn't a life. And you didn't fight for her to have the life she deserved. From where I am sitting, you never have. If you had, it wouldn't have taken 25 years. If you had, she would not have felt the need to flee out of your window to Hanuman knows where!"

"And what of you hm? Did you ever stop to think about why Asha didn't flee up to the mountains to be with you the first chance she got? Since you know her so well... since you offered her freedom and a real life that we didn't? Because maybe Asha understood what it could cost all of us, maybe she understood there are larger obligations at play. But you don't care about the cost! To us... or to Asha for that matter. You don't care about what is best for her and her family. You just care about her being who you want her to be. You don't love her for her, you love her for her powers. How is that any different than Hasani? Or my father who demanded she be who they wanted?" He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself before adding, "If you knew my sister as well as you think you do, you would know that she would never choose to sacrifice this family for herself." 

"I knew you didn't deserve to be King, time and time again you prove that you are just a boy. A child who has no concept of leadership," M'Baku spat. "Because if you did, you would have been willing to sacrifice it all for her.  It would never have to be her choice! You all had countless opportunities to do something different, to avoid the consequences of being indifferent to hate. When your parents or the Council plucked at the threads holding your sister together, you did nothing. Because you do not care about her, you only care about your family's grip on power, just like your father."  

T'Challa's eyes flashed red as M'Baku's words sank in. A king no longer stood before him, the Black Panther and a very overprotective brother did. His suit instinctively wrapped its protective fibers around his body, launching him into attack mode. The only sounds in the room were sharp breaths and the collective bang of the Dora banishing their spears, ready to defend their King if needed. There was no room for God, Bast or Hanuman as the safe space separating the two vanished completely. Verbal blows were over, physical ones were zooming toward them with the speed of a panther as T'Challa said in a low voice, "Do. Not. Ever. insinuate that I --"

"Alright, enough boys, enough!" Nakia yelled, cutting off her boyfriend and pushing her way between the two men. Her hands pushed against each of their chests to force them apart. She didn't expect to actually move them, and she didn't, but it gave them both a physical signal to retreat to their figurative corners. They could argue all day if they wanted but Nakia knew it would be a worse end to an already terrible day if T'Challa killed one of his council members.

"You are all dismissed," she called out forcefully to the remaining council members, who no one else seemed to realize were still there. They all seemed to be too invested in the drama, feeling that the council meetings had gotten far more interesting now that T'Challa was king. And though Nakia actually did not have the authority to end any meetings, they all scampered, quickly gathering their things to leave. Once the last soul exited, leaving M'Baku and the Royal Family behind, Nakia added, "We all failed her and so we all shoulder the blame for this. Had we not... she would here and not... not lost. Arguing over who failed her the most and who loves her the most won't help us find her or help us get her back. So, let us focus on that for now and then Asha can tell us all how much we failed her in person. Agreed? Good." She answered herself, not waiting for either man to respond before redirecting her attention to Shuri. "Now, Shuri, can you trace the signal from her beads?"

Shuri had been silent those far, watching the two men argue from the window. She wiped the stray tear or two from her eyes as she walked back to her original seat and picked up her tablet. After a couple of seconds, a large-scale 3-D map of Wakanda was projected at their feet. The group moved out of the way to get a better view, looking down to see a thin red line labeled "Princess Asha Udaka" appear and slowly zigzag its way out of the inner dome around the Capitol. The dot traveled a short distance in the wilderness before stopping abruptly above the Land of the Heart-Shaped Herb.

"Her trail ends here," Shuri stated, pointing at the end of the line. 

"So she is there?" M'Baku stated, half as a matter of fact statement and half as a question. "Let us go and get her." 

"I didn't say she was there. I said her signal ends there," Shuri snapped back, understandably still angered at M'Baku's earlier attack as they were directed at both she and T'Challa.

She continued tapping away as Nakia said, "How is that possible? Override her tracker bead and find her that way."

"I am working on it," Shuri responded immediately, clearly agitated. There was silence as Shuri tapped away on her screen, eyes growing bigger. 

"What is it, Shuri?" T'Challa asked.

"She destroyed her beads, either accidentally or on purpose. We won't be able to find her this way."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, if she manually turned off her tracker, I would be able to override it but I can't. And right before it stopped transmitting a location, her health bead sent out a distress signal, then stopped tracking and recording all health data. That bead never turns off, it can't. It records everything to the minute. So, best guess, and my guesses are usually never wrong, she destroyed them." 

"I thought you couldn't destroy vibranium?" M'Baku asked, not truly understanding how the beads or vibranium worked. 

"You can destroy anything if you have something powerful enough. Asha's powers certainly aren't enough to destroy vibranium, you know - reduce it to atoms. But with enough sustained fire, it can melt. And the beads are made of more than vibranium. Once exposed to an open flame for too long, the tech can be rendered useless. The point is, her beads won't help us. She could be fine and not want to be found. But... she could be hurt and be unable to tell anyone. We just don't know, so we have to find her the old-fashioned way." 

"She didn't leave Wakanda, nothing has crossed the exterior border in the last hour," Okoye offered as she checked a log on her beads. 

"So aside from the border, where could she be headed in that direction? Any place of significance to her?" 

"That path is on the road to everywhere significant. The border, Warrior Falls, Jabariland, the Hall of Kings... It also depends on if she is looking for a place to be alone for a few hours or shelter for days. The mountains could give her shelter but who would she go there for besides you? Warrior Falls is her favorite spot but she won't find shelter there." 

"And I doubt she would choose to go to the Hall of Kings," Shuri added. "It houses the Garden of the Heart-Shaped Herb," she added for M'Baku's benefit. "No one has been there for over a month. After Killmonger destroyed it, the priestesses refused to return, saying Bast cursed the land." 

"My son... perhaps we should just let her be," Ramonda offered, approaching the group from her seat off to the side. Everyone's heads turned, almost as if they forgot she was even in the room. Her words coupled with the almost annoyed look on her face caused a cloud of anger to settle over the group once more. 

"What? How could you suggest such a thing, Mama?" Shuri asked in disbelief.  

"Your sister can only bring this family ruin. Why bring her back here to further destroy everything? Whatever she is searching for outside of this palace may be what is best for her." 

"Asha is our sister. She is a member of this family, a leader in this country. The only people who have destroyed everything are you and Baba for creating this mess. We are finding her and we are bringing her home." 

"I am just sugg-" 

"That is the end of this discussion. And you would do well to never make that suggestion in my presence again." His tone almost as lethal and harsh as the one he banished Elder Shani with earlier. T'Challa turned his back to his mother before continuing, "M'Baku and I will take the Talon and clear every inch of Wakanda like a grid. The body scans will identify her tattoo. You all stay here in case she returns."

He did not wait for confirmation or approval from anyone else for a plan, deciding if someone had a better idea then they would have said it already. He motioned for M’Baku to follow him out of the throne room without another word.  

****

The ride on the Talon was virtually silent as the airplane piloted itself and T'Challa intently examined the sand table in the middle of the ship that reflected the passing landscape beneath them. He transitioned for pacing, throwing aggressive glances at the table, to standing hunched over it, staring at the sand disheartened and frustrated. The sand rapidly transformed into the different trees and rivers they passed over and people they passed over, all the dark gray color of the sand. T'Challa warned M'Baku that they would be waiting for purple sand, that it would be her. M'Baku let T'Challa do that while he just stared out of the window at the sea of black as if he could see Asha's body in the darkness. 

"Why do you love her?" 

M'Baku wondered if T'Challa got pleasure out of asking him deep questions out of the blue. "What's not to love?" M'Baku asked, not looking away from the window. At the returning silence, he grinned slyly and glanced back to see a very unsatisfied look on his face. He understood, understood the question and its purpose. If his thoughts were any indication, perhaps T’Challa worried that he was merely infatuated with his sister, not actually in love with her. He knew he did not need to but he did care about convincing T’Challa that that was not the case here. That his love was real and not some childish fantasy or obsession with magic.

"You know I noticed her at your challenge. There I was, down the mountains for the first time in my life, determined to die for that throne. And when I looked at the crowd, she was the first thing I noticed. My eyes drew to her like a moth to a flame. It was fleeting though, I could only focus on her for a second for there was fighting and honorable dying to get on with. And then the first time I saw her... truly saw her, in Jabariland… I mean, Hanuman. I have been with a great deal of women in my life but I had never seen one like her before. I saw it - that sadness you spoke of. But I also saw fire, passion, fierce determination. What do I love about her? I love the way you can see her heart soar at every compliment or kind word. I love the way her eyes, already filled with fire, light up when she discovers something new about herself. I love how she values family despite hers being so fragmented. I love that she is so dedicated to Wakanda, loves Wakanda so deeply despite not receiving that love in return. I love her quiet strength, her endless compassion."

He paused for a few moments, turning around to lean back against the wall of the ship. A hearty laugh escaped his lips as he stared across the ship at nothing. "You know the first time I realized it?" he asked as he walked up to T'Challa, looking down at the sand table. "We uh... we have this small cliff across from the Lodge. From there, you can see the best view of the sunset in all of Wakanda. To most of the tribe it isn't anything special, truth be told. Myself included, having had access to it my entire life. It became mundane and ordinary. But Asha, she likes sunsets so I took her there while she was in Jabariland. And you could see her whole being fill with joy and excitement, like this ordinary, mundane cliff was the best thing she had seen in her life. I don’t know, up until that point, I had tried to keep my feelings at bay. I didn’t deserve her I told myself. But the idea that she could love something so boring and ordinary made me feel like maybe she could love someone who was boring and ordinary. Who did not possess the power she did.” 

The two men fell silent for a moment, T'Challa not knowing what to say. After a few minutes, M'Baku added, "You were not totally wrong earlier. When I was young, I wanted so desperately to be like her. I would pray on my knees until they ached to be blessed with a gift. I thought I had grown out of that. But your sister... I just wanted her to see what I saw, to accept the freedom I could offer, to choose me. Because if she chose me, if she could love me, then maybe I was not as ordinary and boring as I always felt. But I didn't think about the cost to her or you all, what was the cost to mere mortals in the face of her powers? But that... that selfishness isn't her way. All I saw was two people who were wholly unfulfilled. And I was so desperate for her to be mine so I could fill us both… so she could be free and I could be a part of something that was not ordinary that I never stopped to consider that maybe it is time for her to be hers. Time for others to stop forcing their wants on her  and that includes me."

T'Challa simply stared at him, not expecting even half of an answer as detailed, nuanced and passionate as that. “I-I am sorry. For the throne room,” he started to say but M’Baku stopped him. 

“We both said things, things I know I regret and you did not deserve or earn. Let us leave them in the past, yes?” M’Baku asked, extending an olive branch to his king. T’Challa nodded but before he could say anything else, a flash of purple sand caught his eye. 

"I found her!" he called out. 

M'Baku moved quickly to the sand table where purple sand was interrupting the field of gray while T’Challa directed the Talon to turn around and slowly lower to hover above the trees. "She is in front of the Hall of Kings." 

M'Baku touched the purple sand that represented her horizontal body, expecting it to crumble in his hand like sand usually did to but it remained solid. He held it in his hand, silently pleading with Hanuman that she was alive and well.

"We cannot get any closer?” M’Baku asked as T’Challa activated his suit and motioned for him to follow him down the ramp. 

“Out of respect for Bast’s whole place, we do not fly or hover the Talon directly over the Hall of Kings or its immediate surroundings. 

M’Baku nodded then questioned, “Any idea why Asha would come here?"

"My father used to come here and pray. Only the Panther Tribe and those who tend to the Garden are even allowed here. It is sacred ground. Asha has never even been here." 

"And they believe it is cursed now?" M'Baku asked, an eerily feeling falling over him as they moved through the darkness with little light to guide them. But he could not tell if that was because the land was actually haunted or because he was simply overthinking after what Shuri said. 

"That is what the priestesses have told us... that Bast was enraged at the destruction of the Garden. Everytime they come here, they say they are overcome with dark thoughts, visions of Bast. They hear cries and rustlings in the trees," T'Challa answered.

"And you believe them?" M'Baku pushed a low hanging branch out of their way as they approached the clearing she was supposed to be in. "I do not hear anything."

"The priestesses have tended to this garden for most of their lives with Zhuri. It is their whole world. They have no reason to lie," his voice trailed off as the reason for their journey came into view. "Asha!"

T'Challa and M'Baku raced forward when they saw her body in a heap on the forest floor. As they approached, T'Challa quickly inspected the area and noticed the scorched black Earth branching out from beneath her body, her lack of shoes, and the cuts littering her arms and legs. Her face was hidden from view, covered by all her braids. She was knocked out cold. M'Baku reached her first, recognizing that T'Challa should have due to his enhanced speed, but understanding and appreciating the gesture. 

M'Baku knelt down into the soft earth beside her, gently shifting her head so her face was facing up. He was startled at the lack of warmth in her body. Usually the girl felt like a furnace but now? She was as cold as ice. M'Baku felt her coldness as if someone had replaced his own blood with ice. He was so sure, convinced they would find her alive and well, probably  too convinced. He had not prepared himself for any other possibility, refused to even consider it. Now all the other possibilities were vying for his attention, demanding he reckon with the reality that Asha was no goddess at all... she was human, a mere mortal like the rest of them. 

"Check her pulse," T'Challa said, his voice even and cold. He knew from the way M'Baku held her cheek, the way the man seemed paralyzed that all was not right. He had not allowed himself to consider this either, forced the thought out of his mind every time. But staring at her, wishing for a different scenario would not change the current outcome. They needed to know and prolonging it would not ease their pain.

M'Baku nodded, signaling that he heard the question. He couldn't get his mouth or vocal chords to work enough to verbally respond. He took a deep breath, sent a silent prayer to Hanuman before starting to move his hand down to her neck to find a pulse. For a moment, he thought back to their time in the mountains, that sunset on that cliff. It truly was a perfect moment, a perfect stolen moment that ended too quickly. Asha seemed to believe that was all they were, all they would get: a selfishly seized stolen moment that was not actually in the cards for either of them. But M’Baku refused to believe that as he prayed to Hanuman. He prayed that life, no matter how strong or feeble, would still pump through her veins when his fingers pressed into her neck. Because he knew she deserved more… and he knew that they deserved a lifetime of moments designed especially for them and freely given to them to fulfill. 

****

Asha groaned as she opened her eyes, shifting a bit as she registered the hard forest ground beneath her and the pain radiating through her body. One look at the sky above her caused her to sit up quickly, completely ignoring the immediate frustration and pain born from crashing to the ground. She quickly noticed several things that were not as they should have been. It was pitch black outside when she left the palace but now? The sky was ablaze with deep hues of purple and blue, lights that moved across the sky like a living organism. If she were not so perplexed, she would have been content simply lying there to admire its beauty. 

She didn't even really understand how she got here - she crashed in the forest, that much she remembered. But now? She was surrounded by tall swaying grass like that of the Alkama Fields, not the towering thick trees and greenery that surrounds the Hall of Kings. She stood up quickly, dusting the dirt off her purple dress and turned from side to side, trying to notice any landmarks or buildings that would help her discern where she was now.

She walked a few paces ahead of her before an eerie feeling settled over her causing her to stop in her tracks. There was nothing out of the ordinary ahead of her and yet, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. She turned around slowly, the sight behind her rendered her speechless. And thank Bast it did or else she would have let out a blood-curdling scream and she doubted theblack panthers staring at her from this tree would have appreciated that. She counted 10 or so of them as her eyes swept across the tree frantically. Her legs turned into jelly as examining stares passed between her and the majestic but deadly creatures. They seemed to regard her with interest, while Asha was too busy looking from the tree to the very short span of grass that separated them.

That is an easy leap for any one of them.

Asha's mind started racing, trying to access years of knowledge about Panthers and quickly sift through it all for something that could help her. As if her knowledge was a roaring rapid, the facts flew past her at an unnatural speed, uselessly until one old legend jumped out at her. Many believed that the Panther Tribe had a deeper connection with all panthers, those on the island and those in the wild, and so no panther would ever harm them. However, now seemed like a poor time to test that theory in Asha's opinion.

She pushed down with her hands, deciding that flying was far safer than walking and would help her find her way home. However, much to her shock, nothing happened. She tried again, facing scrunching up in intense frustration and concentration as she tried to force fire out of her extremities to gain flight. But she couldn't even get sparks... she was completely and utterly powerless. She groaned softly in frustration, not understanding how she was rendered powerless - something she had hoped and prayed for - the one time she actually needed them.

As she stood there examining her hands, her legs started to feel warm. She ignored it initially, hoping it was her powers finally starting up again. That was until the unmistakable smell of smoke reached her nose. She looked behind her and realized the grass around her was slowly catching on fire.

"Oh no," she said quietly, trying to wave the flames away, using all the tricks she knew to absorb fire but nothing worked. She backed away from it, edging closer to the tree of panthers who seemed completely unperturbed by the fire coming closer to them. Every time she tried to channel her powers and absorb it, it grew larger and spread faster. Soon, she was surrounded. Asha covered her mouth with her arm, trying to avoid breathing in the smoke that was now obstructing her vision. Deja-vu poked through the haze of panic settling over her - she had been here before.

She lifted a hand to the flames, praying that she, at least, still had her ability to touch fire and be unharmed. But that proved to be wishful thinking as well. She cried out in pain as the fire burned her skin and caused the palm of her hand to turn red and immediately blister.

She clutched her burning hand to her chest, tears flowed freely at the throbbing pain radiating from it. She had never known the pain fire caused and now she wished she still didn't. She looked around wildly, trying to find an escape from the blazing inferno that seemed intent on killing her. With no other plan or recourse available to her, Asha simply yelled out "Bast! Help me!" Who else was there to seek help from at this point? There was no living soul anywhere near her, she was sure of that.

She was just about to close her eyes, resigned to dying alone in this inferno far from home, when a glowing light caught her eye. She looked up and the smoke seemed to clear just enough for her to see a panther approaching her through the flames. If Asha hadn't been so awestruck, she would have collapsed with fear. This was no ordinary panther, she realized. Its skin appeared to be made of diamonds, glistening and shining in the light of the flames, and was as tall as Asha herself. It walked through the flames as if they were nothing more than colorful air that had no effect whatsoever. When it was close enough, Asha was able to look in its eyes. They were a rich purple, almost like someone hand-picked the finest jewels and plucked them in its eyes. It reminded her of something, something distinct that she couldn't quite put her finger on with the haze of panic around her. 

Bast. 

She didn't know how she knew but she knew. It couldn't be anyone else. 

She and the panther stared at each other for, what Asha considered to be, an uncomfortable amount of time. Asha realized how often she blinked as she stared into its jeweled eyes, examining the intensity in which this animal tilted its head from side to side to study her. 

"If you are Bast, give me a sign? Or you know... be quick about it if you are going to kill me?" She whispered, laughing uncomfortably to herself. She wondered if she was losing her mind, here in this unknown place trying to escape fire by talking to an animal.

The fire. Asha was so taken by this panther in front of her that she had forgotten about the flames so quickly, flames that she had been terrified of only moments prior. She looked around wildly, realizing that the smoke was no longer affecting her. She could breathe easy again, it felt like nothing different than standing in a field of flowers. And almost as beautiful, she thought to herself as she watched the flames rage around her for a second, relieved now that she knew it couldn’t hurt her. She knelt down and bowed her head, understanding who was causing this, who was in front of her.

"Open your eyes, Asha."

Asha lifted her head at the sound of a voice to find a woman where the panther once stood. Asha looked around and found untouched, seemingly perfect grass, replacing the burning field that was there before. She also realized that her hand was no longer red and pulsing with pain. All the evidence of the last five minutes seemed to vanish, like it never happened. 

"Y-You are Bast?" Asha asked, her voice echoed the disbelief in her head. The answer was obvious, other-worldly radiated off the woman before her. She certainly was not human. Her deep chocolate skin glowed like the sun, adored from head to toe in gold robes. Nestled on top of her long, flowing black locs was a simple golden crown with purple jewels settled around it. The rest of the world fell away as Asha stared at her, captivated and sure that she could look at her for the rest of her days and it would never be enough.

"You called for me, did you not?"

Asha blinked a few times, her desperate calls for Bast almost forgotten. It felt like ages ago now despite only being minutes. But she hadn't actually expected the goddess to show up; after all she called on Bast for decades and she never came to her aid those times. "Y-yes, yes I did. Thank you f-for saving me. I suppose I didn't think you would show up," Asha admitted with an apologetic tone. There was an awkward pause as Bast simply stared at her across the field, clearly waiting for Asha to speak. "I am in the Ancestral Plane, yes? I died after my crash?" Her tone was surprisingly calm and casual, as if she was confirming the weather and not her livelihood. 

She laughed lightly, "Yes and no, you are in the Ancestral plane but no, you are not dead. You came close, that is certain. That flight was a dangerous venture even for experienced flyers. But worry not, you are very much still among the living." 

"Oh." Asha stopped her silent walking just behind Bast, causing the Goddess to instinctively stop as well and turn to her. Asha looked to her left and saw yet another set of panthers leering at her from a tree beside her, each woman standing on either side of its trunk, staring at the other. Asha's eyes flinted from Bast to one panther in particular. Most stared at her with interest for a moment before going back to sleep or turning their attention elsewhere. But not this one, its deep brown eyes bored into Asha's soul so intensely that even when she turned away, it felt like a laser on her profile. 

"You almost sound disappointed by that fact." Bast responded, interrupting her staring match with the panther. Asha turned her attention back to Bast, an amused look on her face. 

"Oh no, I mean I am happy to be alive. I guess I am just confused. Why am I here then?" 

"Well, I wanted to speak with you. I have been watching you... waiting for the opportunity to approach you. The moment finally presented itself. You have visited us before."

"Yes, in my dreams. I did not know what it was though, but I thought it was just some place I made up. And I never make it past the flames. Wait - what do you mean you have been watching me?"

"I have been watching you as I do with all I have deemed worthy of a gift, waiting for them to reach out to me. I meet with all the gifted at some point in their lives. When they have reached a point in their self discovery, I find that most need to be pushed forward, as you do now. Some reach that point earlier than others though. The waiting can be difficult, as it was with you but you finally got there."

The breeze passed by the two women as Asha stared at her. She opened and closed her mouth, 15 years worth of questions, anger, and frustration rising to the surface but Asha wasn't able to put any of it into words. 

She settled on saying, "'The gifted?' That sounds like the Jabari?" It didn't feel sufficient but she was still gathering her thoughts. 

"Yes, on this Hanuman and I agree. He calls them the Chosen, I call them gifts but they are all the same. All chosen... all gifts to Wakanda, especially now since your brother has reunited all the tribes. It just seems, unfortunately, that my people have yet to catch on as the Jabari did. But I am hoping the Jabari can lead them on that path of understanding. Your father was a particularly tough subject, clearly my plan to humble him with a gifted child did little to help him see the light. I am always right, people believe. But even once a century or two, I get it wrong." 

"Doesn't sound like much of a gift," Asha muttered to herself, upon processing the idea that her life was nothing more than a pawn in Bast's master plan. Asha suddenly felt angry, anger that felt like it appeared out of nowhere all of a sudden. But really, it had been building, boiling below the surface for 15 years.

"What was that child?" The tone of Bast's voice signaled that she was not asking because she had not heard. She just wanted Asha to say it out loud. 

Asha drew herself to full height, standing tall before her goddess, anger still steadily rising. "I said it doesn't sound like much of a gift... to have your existence used as a pawn in someone else's life. I endured years of pain and abuse for what? My father left this world hating mutants just as much as he did before he had me. You are Bast… all mighty and all powerful and you couldn't humble him a different way? Dangling my life in the balance was the only way? Is that what you want me to believe?" 

"I leave my people to make their own choices. I give the signs, I give the lessons, sometimes I give explicit instructions... it is your choice to follow them. Your father chose many times not to follow, did not recognize the signs or actively chose to ignore them. I realized quickly that there was little I could do for a man like that." 

That isn't good enough, Asha thought angrily to herself. But she didn't respond, she just turned her head away from Bast, frustration clear and evident. She turned to find that damned panther still staring at her, and somehow it made her even more angry so she looked up at the sky, hoping its beauty would calm her. But it didn't. 

"Your life was never in the balance. You grew up strong and powerful, as I intended," Bast added, breaking the silence between them. "I was always here for you but I thought you had forgotten me... you stopped praying."

And with that simple phrase, Asha snapped. She scoffed loudly as her anger boiled over, "'I stopped praying??' I prayed to you every day for years. I begged and begged, pleaded and cried for you to take this gift back. I begged to be normal. Were those prayers not loud enough? Were the sobs and agony of one of your gifts not loud enough to earn an audience?" 

"And you weren't there! I stopped praying because you weren't answering, or giving any indication that you heard me at all! Is this what you intended? I mean, look at me! Look at my life!" Asha yelled exasperated as she paced by the tree, ranting angrily. "My mother hates me, my father went to his grave hating me, the only real family I have are T'Challa and Shuri, I am not connected to my home or country in any real way, and I have spent my whole life lying and hiding."

Asha roughly wiped the tears before adding, "A-and to top it off, I have a man back there who I am madly in love with that I don't deserve," a small sob escaped her lips. "That I can't be with because of things I didn't ask for. Because of you! Because of this life you forced upon me… This life that you call a gift but has been nothing but a curse for the last 15 years. A-a-and you call me here and what? Expect me to thank you for it? You call me here after 15 years of misery, 15 years of watching my life fall apart and you say it is what you intended?? This is NOT a gift!" She shouted, her voice startling a few panthers in the trees. 

Asha's chest heaved slightly as she tried to calm herself after unloading years of pent-up anger onto Bast. She couldn't help but blame Bast for every bad thing in her life right now, after all she just told her that she orchestrated it all. All that pain, all that tragedy she flew away from, she laid it at Bast's feet. She didn't know why or what she expected in return. 

"I do not expect you to not be angry with me, child. Your anger is fair. But where you see a life of darkness, I see one overflowing with potential.” Bast’s eyes were filled with understanding, despite just being yelled at. “But you are tired. And I understand that too." 

Asha nodded, she was tired. That was how she felt, simply exhausted. Life... her life was too much work right now. She looked around, the soft swaying trees, the serene violet sky, the peace. There was such peace here, there were no powers here. Asha craved for it. 

"You could just... you could just stay here," Asha whispered to herself.

"This place is not for you. You have many years ahead," Bast answered, voice matter-of-fact and clear.  

"Why not?" Asha asked, now considering the notion seriously.  "Y-You get to choose right?? That's what we are taught, what all the stories say? Well, then choose to let me stay!" 

"No." Bast answered again. "You have a job to do. You cannot do it here." 

"Fine, send me back, but take my powers. I do not want them." Asha began to bargain. In her mind, Bast owed her something, owed her what she asked. If she couldn't stay here, she could bring one aspect of this peace back with her. She could finally get Bast to do the one thing she had begged her to do her whole life. She can set her free. 

"No, you were chosen. Wakanda needs you, as you are today." 

"You have my brother! He is the protector of Wakanda. Whatever job you need to do, he can do it!" 

"Your brother is not enough. For centuries, the Black Panther has been enough. But your father made terrible mistakes, mistakes that have altered the future of Wakanda. And your brother, rightfully, has opened Wakanda's borders. With it, new dangers unlike any we have ever seen will come. He needs you. Wakanda needs you." 

"No... no!" Asha cried out in frustration, falling to her knees before her goddess. She hunched forward as her hands grasped the ground in front of her, her nails digging into the soil. She wondered if Bast thought this was amusing, how quickly her anger turned to desperation. "I cannot do this. I asked you for years and you ignored me. Listen to me now, please. I am begging you. I d-don't want this anymore. P-please." Asha's voice broke as she sobbed on the ground before Bast. She imagined she looked as pitiful as she sounded. 

"Stand up, Asha Udaka," Bast commanded from above her. "You are a gift. You were made from me, my children do not kneel or grovel at my feet." 

Asha steadied her breathing, stopped her silent sobbing as best she could, before standing before Bast once more. "Do you know why you have never made it past the flames before? Because you are so terrified of who you are. Instead of accepting them, accepting the fire and all that comes with it as part of you, you shun it, you run from it, you hide from it. And you are right, with a life like that, you will never be happy. You will always be afraid, you will always be running, you will always be living with the constant fear of being burned. You will always be tired."

Bast took a step toward her before continuing, "Or... you could make the choice to do something different. The life your father promised you is not the life you must have. Perhaps the role you believed you were going to have in Wakanda is not the role you are destined for. It will be hard, I will not tell you otherwise. Going back is hard. There are very few on Earth whose lives aren't exhausting, that is the burden... the sacrifice paid for breath pumping through your veins. But it will be worth it, it is always worth it." 

Asha looked around, everywhere but at the woman in front of her, unsure of what to say. Was it that easy? Trusting her, having faith in her after feeling forsaken and forgotten for so long? 

Bast's hand cupped Asha's cheek gently, wiping away the tears that still streamed silently down her face. "You could stay here. Truthfully, it is not my choice, it is yours. I will not stop you... Your brother had to make the same difficult choice not too long ago. He is destined to be the best of them, the man to lead my people to new heights. He returned home because there was work to be done. I believe he is better for it. I believe you will be better for it as well."

"How? What can I offer Wakanda? Or anyone like this?” she gestured to herself, imaging what her emotionally-broken form looked like to Bast. “Half of the country hates me, half of my family hates me. My brother had a role - King. I have nothing but powers that most of the country would rather me not use."

"That is far from true, my child. You have everything, everything you need already. You are rare... destined to be the best of them, I know this. And the path to that power hasn't been easy. You can hate me for it but this was the path you needed, this is what Wakanda needs. You have the power no other gift has had, power to do things the normal hand would not dare dream of - the power to undo atrocities and build lasting bridges all across Wakanda. You are rare... destined to be the best of them. I know this because I willed it. You just have to learn to love it, for all its beauty and terror. And then use it to save my people, save Wakanda's future. And then, you may find that giving and receiving love from others, and knowing you deserve it, is far simpler than before." 

Bast squeezed her hands tightly. Asha didn't know what future she could save, what she could do for Wakanda. But as she stared around at the panthers and the Ancestral Plane, she knew one thing for certain - she couldn't stay here.

A small whimper next to her caught her attention. The black panther in the tree next to them was no longer just staring at Asha, it was sitting up as if it sensed her soul was about to leave. It almost looked like the idea pained it. As Asha stared at it, she realized that something about it seemed oddly familiar. She knew this didn't make sense, she had never seen a real panther in her life to remember one. But she could not help but think this one seemed to know her. She suddenly remembered what her brother told her after his visit here. He was there. 

I wonder... she started to think, taking a step toward the tree, when Bast squeezed her hand again, stopping her movements. "It is time to go now, Asha. I fear we are sending you home with more questions than answers. But you will see me again when you have done what you are destined to do. Then you will get those new answers you seek, understand?" 

Asha gave the panther one last look of longing, knowing whose soul inhabited it, wanting nothing more than the same opportunity to talk to him as she just had with Bast. But she knew this was all in Bast's plan so she answered, "Yes," before turning away from the panther for the last time. 

Bast opened her arms wide and Asha tentatively walked into them, immediately leaning into the hug as she felt warmth and safety she hadn't felt in ages rushing through her. Bast smiled and whispered, "You know... I must hand it to myself. The Golden Trio... you all are the rarest flowers in my garden. Brilliant, capable and meant to help us in such different ways. You are the three pillars on which the progress of Wakanda will stand upon. In the absence of one, she would fall. It is a heavy burden I ask of you and cruel that I should ask it without offering any guidance. But like all my gifts, you must walk it alone. Right the wrongs, protect our future. And then we will speak again. Goodbye until then Princess Asha."

*****

Asha's eyes fluttered open, blinking profusely to adjust to the dim light surrounding her. Her head fell to the side as she laid there, recognizing the space as her bedroom in the palace. . She shifted beneath her deep red duvet cover, an audible groan escaping from the pain radiating through her body. Asha couldn't think of a time her body felt such extreme pain like this, feeling like she was just flung and subsequently trampled by a border tribe rhino. But she knew she had little space to complain. The fact that she was alive was a gift from Bast, that fall should have ended her life. 

Bast... her meeting with the Panther Goddess was fresh in her mind. It felt more like a dream, except she remembered it so clearly, so vividly. Usually dreams disappeared from her memory within seconds of waking up. But this seemed to be burned into her brain, like Bast wouldn't let her forget a second of it.

She started to sit up, deciding to find her family and apologize for her impromptu escape when a soft but firm hand stopped her movements. "Lay back down, Asha. You need to rest." 

Her heart leaped into her throat as she heard his voice. She looked up and saw him sitting on the edge of her bed. She didn't understand how she missed him, he seemed too big for her space. But she supposed she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts. "M'Baku?" 

A small but distinct smile fell on his face as he heard the relief in her voice, there was no hiding it. He squeezed her hand, the pair simply staring at each other as he helped her ease back onto the pillows beneath her back. She stared at him, happy but extremely confused. 

"W-what are you doing here?" 

His hands left her shoulders, rubbing up and down her arms in a comforting fashion. She appreciated the warmth of his hands, helping her realize how cold she was. She felt like her body would never be warm again. 

"I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were alright. Um... Let me get you some water yes? Stay here." Asha took in his nervousness, the anxiety in his voice. He was clearly trying to find busy work, something to do that was not simply staring at her or having the difficult conversation looming over him like a dark cloud. She watched him grab the water pitcher in the sitting area of her quarters. She stared around her, the profound desire to get up coursing through her. She just wanted to sit on the couch and talk to him, not lay in her bed like a patient. She swung her legs out of bed, ignoring the exhaustion and pain it caused to do such a little task. However, she would soon learn to regret that decision as she pushed off the bed to stand. The moment her legs took on her full weight, they turned to jelly. She crumbled back to the ground, with a soft thud. 

"Asha!" He ran back over to her, forgetting her water. "What do you need?" 

Asha tried to stabilize her breathing to talk, but nothing would come out. She had been so preoccupied, so trapped in her own thoughts that this was the first moment she actually registered how exhausted she felt. As if she could visualize it in her mind, she could see her internal tank empty, something that had never happened in her life. Panic settled as her eyes moved wildly around her room, trying to understand what she needed in this unforeseeable scenario. Her eyes fell on the raging fire in her sitting area. Was it that easy? she asked herself as she stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace. Her intense staring and look of longing did not go unnoticed by her companion. He picked her up bridal style, the young princess too tired to even be excited by being in his arms, and sat her as close as humanly possible to the fire without sticking her body in it. She hesitated for a moment, knowing it was crazy. But the flames seemed to call out for her, beg for her, growing taller and wilder as she watched them. She reached her hand out into the fire, the warmth immediately washing over her like someone basking in sunlight. She held her hand there, eyes closed, as her body soaked up all the fire in the hearth. Warmth spread through her arm and into every area of her body until she could feel it in every finger and toe, finally feeling full again. The price of her resurgence was the loss of fire in her room but she didn't feel as though she needed it now. She was not at 100%... she knew it would take some time to get back where she was. But this felt good.

"Better?" M'Baku asked softly from behind her, a comforting hand still on her back. He figured it worked, instead of deathly cold, he could feel the warmth circulating beneath her skin now. It wasn't as powerful as once before but it was there. 

"Much. Not 100% but close. T-thank you." 

He picked her back up and carried her back to bed. Once she was settled, he sat down on the side of the bed next to her. 

"You gave us quite a scare. Flying away like that. On your third try? You could have died."

"Flying is the only way to escape a brother with super speed. Before I knew it, I was in the middle of nowhere and couldn't hold myself up any longer. I didn't mean to scare anyone.” 

“You could have died, Asha,” he lectured. His words fell on her ears like a parent scolding a child instead of like a… she still didn’t know what they were. 

“No one would have cared,” she mumbled under her breath. She couldn’t even stop herself from letting it slip but as soon as it did, she wished she had. The hurt on his face was clear. 

"The King, Shuri, Nakia and the Dora care about you deeply Asha."

"Are they the only ones?" She asked softly. 

M'Baku bowed his head, avoiding her expectant stare as he thought of a response. He cared about her, deeply so. But was now the time to have this conversation? After she almost died? He supposed it was foolish to back down now. This was what he wanted this whole time, to express his feelings. But now that it was here? He wished he had a few more days to get his thoughts together. 

"No, not just them. There are some that care about you more than you know, more than you will let them show you." 

It was Asha's turn to avoid his stare, his expectant look. She was in love with him, there was no secret about that. But 12 hours ago, there were so many barriers in their way. Now those barriers turned to wreckage and recycled into new barriers. They were different, but how different if she still felt unable to commit to him and this? 

"The woman you want... she is not who I am always M'Baku. If this day hasn't shown you. You watched her attack me a-a-and I just sat there. I surrendered so easily like a c-coward. I- is that the woman you want? Truly?" 

"Asha, stop. You are that woman, I see her every time I look at you. What other woman could have survived what you survived tonight? You are strong, you are deserving. You just have to believe it."

She nodded softly, looking out the window of her bedroom, confused and struggling. Her mind like she was standing in the Great Mound, watching hundreds of trains whiz by her and she could not grab hold of any of them. So many thoughts, so many tracks moving in different directions. Here she was again, standing at the crossroads of what she wanted to have, what reality dictated she must have, and what the world deemed her worthy of having. There was not a fiber of her being that didn't want M'Baku, but did she truly feel she deserved him? Bast told her she did… everyone told her she did… but did any other opinions matter if she still felt unworthy?

And this being the first moment, she really considered the possibility of being with him and its implications, would the Jabari even accept her? Many of them did not want to rejoin Wakanda in the first place? How would they feel if their chief married a lowlander? How would the Wakandans feel if their princess married a Jabari? That was a bridge the two tribes hadn’t been crossed once in history. 

Beyond that, it was difficult to focus on sorting out her feelings for M'Baku when she knew her tribe was at risk, all because of her. She was surrounded by the very real reality that Elder Shani was trying to tear their house down. Her engagement was off, of that she was sure. Why would she uphold the end of the bargain when Shani figuratively set their deal on fire? But did that mean she was relieved of her obligation? Does that mean after giving her the ammunition to tear their world apart, Asha could just escape to Jabariland and live a different life? She was still the princess, after all. Her obligations to marry were gone but her obligations to her family, to the throne, to her people were very much present. 

And then there was Bast. Apparently, there was work to be done. Could that work be done from Jabariland? Or did she have to stay here? What future did she have to protect? How does one even begin to learn to love themselves or powers they have been conditioned to hate? She wished she had more time to ask Bast questions as a million tumbled through her mind right now. Now, she just felt like she wasted the short audience Bast gave her ranting like a child. The goddess wasn't wrong - it was cruel to ask her to do whatever job she needed doing with no guidance, no direction. She wasn't equipped for this... any of it. 

"Asha." M'Baku saw it clearly in her face, she was drowning, unsure of what to do, her confusion and concern etched into her face. She looked older, more tired and weary than he had ever seen her. Like in one day, she lived a thousand lives. He knew that look, saw it on his own face a million times as chief. He knew what it looked like to carry the weight of the world and he also knew how grateful he was to the people in his life who forced him to lay that weight down, who gave him a break for a moment. He just wanted to help her do the same. "How about we do this? We deal with the big questions tomorrow. And tonight, we just be. No big questions, no overthinking,” he gently tapped her head, causing her face to scrunch up and the first genuine smile he had seen all night grace her face. “No decisions, no complications. We just rest." 

Asha's heart immediately felt lighter with his permission not to think for a moment, his permission to lay her baggage down and rest her arms for a while. It would do her a world of good, she knew that. She nodded, smiling at him. "Let's just be. Sounds like a plan to me." 

M'Baku leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, Asha's body heating up at his touch. He looked at her for a moment before getting up from the bed, "I will take the couc-"

A small hand grabbed his, tugging him back. Her dark brown eyes looked up with him, unspoken pleads clear and on the tip of her tongue. "Stay. I want you to stay." 

Her meaning was clear, but M'Baku searched her face for confirmation. There were no reservations, no doubts. He rounded to the other side of the bed and slid in. She immediately nestled into his side, attracted to him like a magnet. 

"I would care," he whispered as she laid on his bare chest, her small frame dwarfed by his. He didn't hear a response but soon, he felt the unmistakable wetness of tears and knew she heard him. 

"T-thank you," she whispered back, throat tight as she tried to keep her emotions in. He kissed the top of her head before closing his eyes, another eventful day behind them and the start of something beautiful ahead.

****

Tags:  @destinio1 @muse-of-mbaku @missmohnique @jellybean531 @afrolatinpami @leahnicole1219 @archivistofwakanda

[itsxinran]

On "Fashion and Sustainability" by the London College of Fashion

(These are my answers from the online course I'm currently taking on FutureLearn.com. I will repost my responses here to keep track of things)

"Say hello and introduce yourself."

Hey there, my name is Nicole. Nice to meet you, whoever's reading this entry.

A piece of my heart belongs to the act and art of thrifting. Once I got exposed to the world of 'buying second-hand garments', I couldn't look back. I didn't want to anyway. What began as a passion evolved into introspection. Questions are aplenty the more I submerge myself in an ocean of clothes. I established an online thrift store where I sell personally curated items from different locations. After years, I finally realized I want to do more, be more, learn more, and offer more in regards to just making this planet a better place in ways I can devote myself to, and I have to start somewhere, and that it is never too late to start. I found this course and immediately signed up for it.

A good life depends upon the person whether they are being good towards the planet they live on or not.

"Why is sustainable important to you?"

Sustainability (in fashion) is important for me because it's a way I know I can definitely contribute to helping our planet heal up without feeling any restriction or hesitation. It helps me generate creative possibilities from resourcefulness and tackle exciting challenges about recycling, creating advantageous inception for me who wants to lighten my ecological footprint. Earth and I both benefit from sustainability within a return-and-regain cycle.

“What do you value in the world?”

I value myself because I am the root of all that happens in my life and a factor of all the experiences I've gone through. I always believe that we must prioritize ourselves first so we can be our utmost best towards everything and everyone else. Our actions are reflections of our overall welfare; we project daily in an almost unconscious manner or even habit. If we think of ourselves as lowly, we produce low-quality products. I cultivate value within me so the energy I spread towards all is genuine, inspiring, and bountiful.

“Which of the four agendas (social, economic, ecological, cultural) would you like to research further? This might be based on your experience of fashion, or perhaps you find it intriguing from a personal perspective.”

To begin, I'd like to address how informative and alarming the podcast was. I've learned more about the ascending greed and descending priorities of human beings. Social Agenda and Cultural agenda played a bit of a tug-of-war; both discussed the authenticity issues and the topic of illusions within the luxury side of fashion. I'm a person who holds honesty, transparency, and accountability absolutely paramount hence the gravity towards these two agendas. However, the Social Agenda ultimately won my interest.

Inequalities within the fashion world will eternally irritate me. Many luxury brands pride themselves on selling 'handmade' products but make their human resources work like machines. Another exasperating problem not just in luxury fashion but the generality of the fashion industry is how men and white people tend to profit more than women and people of colour when the majority of the fashion workforce are women and people of colour.

Additionally, luxury items are seen as beautiful rarities catered only to affluent people and conspicuous consumers because the upper echelon deemed them the target market as they have the obvious money. Blatant social status discrimination is not just in the production part but also in the transaction part. Diving deeper into the travesties of luxury fashion helped me understand the gloat I feel whenever I see items of heavyweight labels discarded and untouched in the sale pile of a thrift store in a barely developing country.

“Why have you selected this agenda? How does it relate to your professional and personal experiences of fashion and sustainability? How does your geographic location relate to your own perspective on your chosen Agenda?

I treat thrifting as a professional and personal matter. I see so many clothes by famous fashion designers in thrift stores and most of them are inexplicable design choices. They were brought to this world because of a name. Numerous luxury brands produce the most ungodly things I'd not even want my worst enemies to wear.

However, whether luxurious or fast, the fashion industry exploits human resources from developing countries. In an article made by goodonyou.eco this 2021, it's stated that "over the decades, the fashion industry has made an intentional choice to move its labour to low-income Asian countries like Bangladesh, India, China, Vietnam, and the Philippines."

I (currently) live in the Philippines and thrift stores are abundant here. The Philippines and other Asian countries are exhausted and wrung by the people behind the fashion industry and then all discarded clothes (may they be unused, unwanted, excess, etcetera) from all over the world come back to these countries to be resold by a different group of low-income workers. These poor countries which are sought after for their cheap labour costs are also the fashion industries' trash can.

[art4yoo]

September 17, 2020

Dear Design Studio,

Here are my questions about my interests in fashion, beauty, and travel culture. Please feel free to comment any questions or suggestions that you think will encourage critical thinking.

FASHION

What makes fast fashion irresistible?

How might we...

..implement the attraction to fast fashion with sustainable and ethical practices for fashion?

..encourage and promote sustainable shopping for clothes?

..sell sustainable clothing inexpensively?

..make the clothing manufacturing process more meaningful?

..shift social media influencers mindset on promoting fast fashion with horrible backgrounds?

..expose fast fashion in a way to advocate for change rather than ignoring its undeniable issues?

..make fashion culture have a more conscious approach but still be a fun way of expression?

Why does clothing have a large impact on our culture? What does fast fashion accomplish that can and cant be successful with sustainable branding?

How can fashion continue to be a form of expression with sustainable methods? Why do social media influencers and everyday people ignore fast fashion issues? What actions should fast fashion companies or social media influencers take to promote sustainable and ethical practices?

Is fashion always self-expression, or are there multiple aspects to our desire to be seen in certain clothes/outfits/brands? Are fashion and self-expression even compatible?

BEAUTY

How can we shift beauty standards to reflect individual, inclusive beauty?

Why do beauty products typically promote enhancements or the covering of flaws instead of promoting natural beauty? How can beauty products promote natural beauty?

How might beauty standards change in the next few years? What impact does social media have on beauty standards? How can we change the traditional beauty standards?

Is beauty empowering, or is it confidence that is empowering, and are they related?

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, who is the beholder currently? Is make-up empowering, or does it imply that we are not good enough as is?

How does makeup create a positive impact? How does makeup create a negative impact? What can we learn from negative impacts of beauty standards? How can women be encouraged to feel beauty without makeup?

TRAVEL

How can travel become more culturally, ethically, environmentally, and sustainably conscious? How can tourism be a positive impact for countries' economy and environment? How can we inform travelers about detrimental issues (that cannot be ignored) of the countries they are visiting? Is there a type/mode of travel that could be seen as a net-gain to the world?

What about travel representations on social media is toxic? How can we prevent toxic methods and ideas of traveling to developing countries? Why and how do social media influencers ignore serious issues of travel and developing countries? How can we shift the experience of traveling to impact the traveller and the location in a positive way? What are the major issues of social media travel culture?

Sincerely,  

        Jamie Yoo

[javierpenaspinkshirt]

Lawful Good

Chapter two

Warnings: nothing explicit, slow burn, little bit of angst, age gap(?), really bad formating (sorry I'm on mobile). The odd swear word and more adult(?) themes beginning.

Words: 2.6K

A/N: thanks for the kind words and messsages after chapter one! I’m afraid this fic is gonna be a slow burner but we’re heading in the right direction in this chapter! Really sorry about the shite formatting, but that’s mobile for you! Enjoy 🖤

Previous chapters: Chapter one

*

Chapter two

There were a million words you could use to describe Javi… but domestic wasn’t one of them. He’d slipped into your apartment behind you just a few moments ago, a little closer to you than he would have been had someone else been with you. And now he was standing in your kitchen looking bewildered at the gadgets and cookery items that covered your kitchen surfaces.

‘What the hell is this’? Javi smirked pointing at one.

‘It’s a spiraliser… for when vegetables need to be… well spiralised…’ you actually had no idea why you had that but it had been an impulse purchase you defended fiercely against all who took the piss.

Javi cocked his eyebrow and smirked.

‘So you and Steve really spend evenings here spirlalising vegetables and gossiping?’

'Yes, and I’ll have you know, he’s a great spiraliser’

Javier chuckled and you noticed some genuine amusement in his face. He was a difficult man to read. You figured that was deliberate, or at least a subconscious choice due to the nature of his work. Hiding his emotions was a safety mechanism that more than likely kept him alive. The number of times he must have been shot at, the close calls, the near misses, they would be enough to make a civi like you want to retire on the spot. But not him. He’d found a way to cope and the side effect of this was appearing closed off and reclusive. But occasionally he’d let his guard down. And in this moment he had done just that – standing in your kitchen, hands on his waste, laughing at the idea of his partner trying to work out how to make courgette ribbons.

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him, and you smiled.

He caught your gaze and his laugh trailed off and he cleared his throat.

You snapped out of it, realising you had been all but swooning like some Victorian maiden. Vaguely horrified at yourself you clapped your hands gently and asked ‘so, what would you like for dinner?’ tailed by a slightly awkward laugh.

He raised his eyebrow again ‘how about we just order in?’

You did just that. There was a pizza place down the street you (and probably all the DEA agents living in the building) knew well that claimed to make an “All American Pizza”, that in reality was a cheese pizza with a mystery meat topping that claiming to be pepperoni. If you didn’t think too hard about what was actually on it, it was delicious.

It arrived and you both sat on your couch, not bothering with plates to save washing up, just grabbing slices from the box, conversation free flowing. You laughed about the time you’d dropped coffee all down yourself one Monday morning and sulked the whole day, and the time he had an informant turn up at the office to return his signature sunglasses that he had left in her apartment after spending the night to “question her”.

‘I take my work very seriously’ he insisted through laughter ‘I get results don’t I?’

You cackled, a proper belly laugh, pizza slice half eaten in your hand and tears forming in your eyes ‘you do, but she exposed your modus operandi to the whole office’ you wiped a tear that was threatening to roll down your cheek and take your mascara with it, ‘she exposed you after you exposed her!’ you gave him a look and erupted in to laughter again.

The grin stayed plastered across his face but he wasn’t laughing at your poor jokes, he was watching you as you sat next to him, half eaten pizza slice in your hand and tears in your eyes, completely uninhibited and cackling like a witch. He’d always appreciated your openness. You were his opposite in so many ways. You were younger and more optimistic in your outlook. He didn’t particularly know your personal circumstances but he knew you’d come to this country alone as a teenager to study and that you’d accidentally wound up at the DEA. He knew you were good at your job and he appreciated every sticky situation you’d gotten him and Steve out of. And he also noticed that though you and Steve were very close, you didn’t look at Steve the way you looked at him. What he didn’t know, however, was whether you knew you were looking at him that way or whether your beautiful, dark eyes were betraying you.

Javier was no stranger to the female gaze. It would be a very rare evening that he didn’t catch some woman in a bar giving him the eye. Even at his most dishevelled after a long shift or a raid gone bad he still attracted them. He was like a magnet and they were the scrap metal that permanently orbited him. He didn’t mind, he liked the attention but only on his own terms. It was easy for him to separate lust and genuine feeling, that was partly due to his job. You had to be able to separate your feelings from the job at hand. Hell! He would often have days where he retuned home to his quiet apartment having shot several people and been shot at himself. If he couldn’t separate his personal emotions with his actions then he’d have gone over the edge years ago. So he translated this skill into his personal life too.

Sex and love were not often things that went together for him. But occasionally he’d let his guard slip and he’d let someone in. He did that once a long time ago, but that had ended terribly. His fault, he’d been the one to run. Some how she’d had the courage to forgive him and that helped, but he still felt the occasional twinge of guilt. Since her, there had been a few women he’d genuinely connected with. Often they were prostitutes, but that didn’t make them any lesser than him. It always began the same, them offering information in exchange for visas. Sometime he could help, sometimes he couldn’t, and sometimes he’d let them into his life a bit. But it never lasted. He’d scold himself for thinking he was capable of sustaining anything greater than a sexual relationship.

He reminded himself of that while he looked at you. He’d thought about you in that way, who wouldn’t? You were smart, funny, kind, beautiful, and seemingly fearless. Who comes to a city like this with purely good intentions? And who maintains that integrity despite the ugliness of the job? You impressed him no end. Your mind was a thing of wonder to him. How could you think so thoroughly so quickly? You always had the answer. You took the scathing remarks about your age and the sexist comments and ripped them apart with your brilliance. You proved instantly that you deserved your desk in that office. He was in quiet awe of you. But that was as far as he dared take it. His mind would wonder sometimes but he was good at dragging it back. He knew you would never risk your career for him and he was selfish for even considering it a possibility.

But here he was, sat on your couch with you, eating and laughing like you’d been friends your whole lives. If this was as far as your relationship could go then so be it. This was unchartered territory for him anyway. He had a pal relationship with Steve, they’d go out and drink together, grab some food and talk quite often, but he was the only one Javi had that kind of relationship with. He’d chat to his various conquests of a night but they were only there for his help, they weren’t really interested in him. But you? You came across so genuine, like you really did care about him and it sent a small shiver up his spine.

‘Thanks for tonight, Javi’ you smiled ‘This has been the best Monday night I’ve had in ages’.

‘Yeah well now I see how you and Steve spend your evenings maybe I’ll join you occasionally?’ He seemed almost tentative in his question.

‘Of course!’ You blurted ‘the more the merrier! Plus it’ll be nice not to be the only third wheel in Steve and Connie’s marriage’ you chuckled.

He left your apartment not long after that. It was late and you both had to be awake and alert for your drive to work tomorrow. You’d hugged him as he opened the door to leave. It lasted just that half a second too long and you found yourself relishing the feel of his hands against your back. Dangerous territory. But you’d smiled sweetly at him as the embrace ended and you said your good byes.

*

The rest of the week progressed pretty much as every week did, just without Steve. Javi was in and out of the office, out on raids, off meeting informants, in writing reports, off meeting the ambassador. You were in mostly, at your desk figuring our loopholes to get agents out of trouble with the local authority or trying to bribe your way out of sticky situations slyly.

Thursday afternoon rolled around and you found yourself turning your desk upside down and inside out. Gently huffing and getting frustrated at having lost the one thing you needed right now. You looked up to notice Javi coming back from the ambassador’s office. He was in a suit and he looked good. He had his top button undone and his tie loosened in classic Javi fashion. His little way of sticking it to the man. Respectful enough to wear a suit, but renegade enough to wear it in his own fashion.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ He sat at his desk and unbuttoned his suit jacket. The site of you on your knees searching through your desk drawers making him a little uneasy.

‘I’ve lost a book I need, I swear I had it here but I cant find it anywhere. You haven’t borrowed anything have you?’ You looked up at him, hair a mess from your frantic searching and your heels kicked off in exasperation.

He swallowed at the site of you but kept his cool, ‘I can promise you that the last thing I am going to borrow from your desk is a hefty law book’

You smiled back at him ‘fair point’ you pulled yourself to your feet and slumped back down on your desk chair. ‘Fuck, I need that book. I don’t know what I could have done with it’ you put your head in your hands.

‘Well if it’s a law book then I’m sure there’s a copy in the archives here? They have a law library in the storage archives down the hall’ he responded, sensing the genuine worry in your body.

You shot up in your chair ‘do they?’ Hope returning to your face ‘where?’

He stood up and shrugged off his suit jacket, his shirt was a little damp from the heat and it clung to his torso ever so slightly. You pulled your eyes back to his but he’d caught you looking. He shuffled slightly, had you made him uncomfortable?

‘Come on’ he said, walking towards you ‘I’ll show you the archives’

You smiled gratefully and leapt up to follow him. You had forgone your heels and caught up to him bare foot, a whole lot more comfortable. He noticed and smiled at you, ‘fuck dress codes, ey?’.

You grinned back.

You followed him through winding corridors and down a stairwell towards where they kept some of the evidence from raids and attacks on sicario strong holds. A little further down a dimly lit corridor and he stopped to open a door for you.

‘Here you go, the library’ he held the door open for you and you squeezed passed him. 'Library' was a generous term. It was a small cramped room with a few rows of shelves stacked with books. Some were older than your abuela and about as dusty the streets of the city.

‘Okay, help me look!’ You gave him the title and you set about searching.

He obliged and shut the door behind him, scanning through the books with you. Some of the shelves were too high for you to reach so he stretched up to grab at the abandoned collections on the top shelves. As he stretched his shirt untucked and revealed flashes of skin. Why on earth were you swooning over a strip of belly skin? What was with you? Was it the stifling heat of the windowless room? Was it the Adrenalin of hunting out this bloody book?

Javi set down a box of books on the floor and turned to face you.

‘Not in there’ he frowned.

He was standing just a little too close to you again, like when he had followed you into your apartment on Monday. He was so much taller than you without your heels on, and in the dim light of the small room the shadows angled his face beautifully.

Suddenly he reached out, as if he were going to brush a wayward strand of hair from your face and tuck it behind your ear. You lurched forward and kissed him. You lips connecting to his, warm and slightly salty from the sweat of the heavy lifting. As quickly as you leant forward you pulled away, realising what you had just done. What the fuck had you just done?!

He stood dead still, almost unblinking. His hand was still out stretched right near your face. You stared at him, panic filling your entire body. You went cold, felt sick, what had you done that for?!

Finally he moved, reaching further behind you to the shelf you were leaning against. He pulled a book from the shelf and showed it to you. It was your missing title.

Oh god. Oh Christ. Oh no! He’d been reaching for the book, not for you at all! Dread pooled in your tummy. You had completely and utterly misread that situation. You cursed yourself, every stupid word you could think of running through your mind, all the while staring at him like a rabbit in the head lights. He was still so close to you.

He reached behind him and put the found book down on the box he had retrieved from the top shelf for you. He turned back to face you, putting his hand up again but this time brushing it against your cheek. And then again, the welcome softness of his lips on yours, the taste of salt and the rush of blood to all the wrong places. He kissed you gently, testing the waters. You leant into him, his reciprocation as much a surprise to you as it was to him. His tongue parted your lips and your hands ran up his back, clinging to his shirt. His hands cupped your face, holding you firm as his body pressed yours against the book shelf behind you.

His hands moved to your waist, his finger tips sinking into your soft skin beneath your thin blouse.

He pressed against you, pulling away from the kiss for breath. You panted heavily, the air suddenly feeling a whole lot hotter. His forehead pressed against yours, you would have been happy to stay in that moment forever. That way neither of you would have to face the consequences of your recklessness.

Chapter three

Tag list: @ah-callie

[beautybranding12]

How Fenty’s Beauty Branding Positioning Generated $100 Million In 40 Days

Many of Huda Beauty’s high posts featured the brand’s photogenic founder, suggesting the brand is taking advantage of that Huda magic. Beauty branding is all about first impressions and in the enterprise of beauty the bar is set excessive. Salons want a distinctive style to face out and entice fashion-savvy shoppers in an over-saturated market. We are a beauty branding company, our skilled brand id companies create related, believable, well-positioned manufacturers https://mslk.com/.

Don’t cover them on a webpage nobody visits; use them to underscore your advertising, your website copy, and every thing else that comes from your model, implicitly and explicitly. According to Brand Finance, L'Oreal Paris is the main make-up brand in relation to net worth. In 2020 it's value was value a whopping 11.75 billion US dollars. It's adopted by Gillette and Nivea in the second and third places, respectively. Anyone could be their own makeup artist with the assistance of Make Up For Ever.

This beauty branding logo is kind of made up of a monogram illustration and a wordmark. The monogram is made up of a artistic and edgy letter mixture. The U and D are uppercase and angular, with gentle swirls, onerous traces and modern aptitude. Color is merely certainly one of three logo components - others are symbol and font.

The brand’s skincare, makeup and perfume merchandise combine science and sweetness to achieve the right blend of modern thinking and timeless style. Created by François Nars in 1994, NARS Cosmetics launched with simply 12 lipsticks. Since then, the label has grown considerably and now provides a various and in depth assortment of magnificence merchandise for women of all skin sorts. You don’t want to purchase couture clothes to find a way to put on luxurious.

This mega cosmetics firm is certainly one of the largest on the earth and has been providing girls with incredible cosmetics and fragrances since 1886. RMS Beauty prides itself on creating merchandise that are not solely non-toxic but in addition nourishing to the skin. The label’s makeup and skincare ranges function raw, food-grade and natural elements that promote anti-ageing and long-lasting magnificence.

They’ve backed up their dedication to that base of their marketing, and they’ve used social media to attach with their clients in unfiltered and organic methods. Since Lilah b isn't brand new, Foland is working via well timed issues that are important to modern beauty customers. The brand is increasing the variety of foundation shades provided, of which there are at present only 5, and addressing sustainability, an increasing area of focus for the wonder trade. The frequency of assortment has increased from monthly to weekly in just some years, and Lilah b is devoted to persevering with the scheme as a value of doing enterprise. Vegan beauty brand The Lip Bar was a prime performer on each Instagram and Twitter this year.

As prospects are exposed to a beauty model extra typically, they become extra inclined to like it. Successful brands have a constant look and feel in every little thing they put in front of their prospects. One of the major benefits of this type of consistency is that it offers easy recognition of any product amongst customers. Attractive packaging design is a motivating pressure in encouraging folks to make impulsive selections. Taking benefit of this reward-seeking conduct with a good design can have a robust influence on customers’ receptiveness to your products.

To be thought-about natural, the product must meet non-toxic standards for ingredients and processing. Up from $483B in 2020 to $511B in 2021 — and with an annual compounded development rate of four.75% worldwide — it’s predicted to exceed $716B by 2025. Long controlled by legacy conglomerates, the sweetness business has turned on-line. Spend a while really nailing down what makes your products different. You have to not be afraid to level out what makes you stand out, there’s plenty of power in that. You’re a growing group with systemic issues which may be affecting your brand.

Lilah B promote multi-use merchandise using "clean" components, encouraging clients to recycle their old cosmetics packaging. Customer engagement is handiest if it’s organic, through “deep connection” corresponding to user-generated content or influencers who've plausible relationships with products. A robust online presence might help entice stockists—so it’s worth investing in social media areas. Early on, you will want to create a website—try Squarespace for an inexpensive, secure, and slick on-line retailer you could build your self with no coding skills. I constructed my very own retailer on Squarespace within the time it took to watch an episode of Black Mirror.

Skincare model Mary Kay swiftly jumped into the fight against coronavirus by redirecting resources to fabricate hand sanitizer within the early days of the pandemic. Instagram followers jumped in to applaud the brand’s actions with more than 17,000 likes and comments. Not all brands went so far as to change up manufacturing, however many beauty manufacturers tried to make a difference by actively sharing what they have been doing to fight the pandemic with followers on social media. Many manufacturers noticed success with giveaways this yr, but this one from ColourPop is a textbook instance of a dynamite social media giveaway. The brand stored the criteria for entry easy and centered on ColourPop as an alternative of creating fans hop around to a bunch of different brands. The giveaway in celebration of a big follower milestone sneakily helped ColourPop develop followers even more by incentivizing casual followers to follow the model on Instagram.

The company serves various industries together with sports, leisure, food & beverage, retail and travel. But the joy in this brand comes in its simplicity — particularly in comparability to the encompassing packaging. The monogram is made up of the overlapping E and L of the model name in a curly, inventive and splendid font. The backward “N” adds a cool, innovative and edgy tone to the logo that elevates the brand’s mastery within the beauty industry. Due to Instagram API limitations, we’re capable of pull accurate Instagram engagement numbers only for verified and/or Instagram business accounts. Helpful business articles, our work, and special provides are introduced on these platforms.

You’ll also need an on-brand business card full with your logo, website and another components of your model identity, to construct these connections. The visual id communicates instantly what it would take a long time to place throughout in words. For example, are your values natural, natural and eco-friendly or glamorous and glossy? The customer will instantly get an impression from your packaging and marketing materials to assist them resolve if the product is for them. Of course the phrases are important too, but you have to get your clients to notice you first, and that's where visuals are so necessary.

After Fenty launched, their deep shades offered out across the nation, and customers took to social media to share their joy at discovering foundations that matched their pores and skin tone. But while Fenty is priced as a luxury model, they still aren’t as expensive as most of the other manufacturers promoting a lot of shades. Estée Lauder’s foundation range with forty two shades, for instance, is priced at $42; Fenty’s foundation is $35.

By posting YouTube movies of her make-up routines and sharing seems on her Snapchat tales, she had positioned herself as a number one voice. eMarketer reviews that 38% of shoppers interested in testing pop-up stores are those that already store on-line every week in comparability with 28% preferring brick-and-mortar shopping. By engaging with its followers in a face-to-face setting, Glossier is prepared to deepen relationships with customers past online interactions. Yet, it doesn’t come with the monetary obligations of following a chain-store mannequin. With different themes in every area and experiential advertising activations — it’s constructed hype that attracts droves of brand name lovers desperate to try out the products in real-time.

While the beauty and private care business will stay strong globally, the cosmetics and skincare verticals specifically will expertise probably the most income growth within the US at a fee of 3.5% by 2021. Crafted is a inventive branding agency that companions with startups and fortune 100 brands across the globe. They have experience in brand design, video manufacturing, web site improvement ad content material advertising. Does a Black-owned magnificence brand need to post about Black founders, Black influencers, and makeup shades for darker skin tones to be successful on social media?

Fenty is a good instance of magnificence brand advertising, from their partaking social media channels which include sharing well-liked memes on Twitter and sharing selfies of their clients sporting Fenty makeup. Fenty was initially launched in 2017 by way of an exclusively digital marketing campaign and to this present day the model is a testomony to the significance of how important the web area is for modern magnificence manufacturers. Different branded cosmetics model design elements by Almi designLogo. Your brand is the face of your beauty enterprise and, as such, it’s the most important component you’ll bring to life through the branding course of. Fenty found next-level success because it positioned itself from day one as a diverse brand for a various buyer base. They’ve built products for an enormous and underserved market—women whose pores and skin tones don’t fall into the ranges that the most important makeup brands focus on.

According to NPD, Benefit Cosmetics had a 50% share of the £20 million brow market in 2016, and that was before the model launched thirteen model new brow-related products. Fenty continues this strategy across digital channels, using YouTube tutorials and stay virtual events to generate engagement and hype around each new product launch. Many magnificence brands launched digital tools in 2020, as customers have been unable to visit stores , and L’Oreal’s ‘Signature Faces’ digital make up line was arguably one of the most innovative releases.

Your web site is a superb platform to start a dialogue about all magnificence topics and, who is aware of, maybe a while down the road you might begin producing a line of beauty products that you never considered. Funkhaus is a digital creative company working on the intersection of design, content material, programming, and strategy. One reason behind Benefit’s domination of the area is its shrewd advertising activity, which in 2017 concerned the ‘Browmobile’ campaign. Combining experiential elements with digital advertising, it involved an online competition offering customers the possibility to win a visit from the browmobile.

"Aside from social media, a advertising tactic that usually will get overlooked is the unboxing experience you could create for influencers," says Wittick. "Fabfitfun created a stir about this, yet it’s a tactic that still will get uncared for." When operating a cosmetics advertising marketing campaign on social media, begin by figuring out what makes your product visually intriguing.</p>

<p>Glossier managed to tie for first with last year’s Instagram winner Huda Beauty thanks to dynamic posts tailor-made to the instances. Many of the brand’s prime Insta posts featured COVID updates, assist of frontline staff, and popping out in support of Black Lives Matter, indicating the model was unafraid to take a stand. Going beyond the makeup was a profitable strategy for Glossier throughout all channels and was especially powerful on Instagram.

A logo that conveys your brand and character instantly is one which prospects will respond to. Those are just two examples, but you should take the time to determine the place your clients spend their time if you'd like your marketing to be effective. Once you could have taken these three steps, you have to use the information you could have gathered to market your company and merchandise. New web shoppers must create an online account to earn & redeem rewards. “We actually imagine that Then I Met You has its own distinct branding and story to inform, and we want to grow separate and distinctly from Soko Glam,” says Cho.

You will create much less waste and save vitality by using recycled supplies. This sort of engagement is gold, and firms like ColourPop comprehend it. The brand is constantly increasing its product range and making an attempt new things, and the probabilities are countless. In 2017 it put a name out for a name for a model new, yet-to-be-released concealer and inside seconds had dozens of replies. The website Bustle rapidly caught on to the thread, stating ColourPop teased a possible concealer on Twitter and followers already have the right name idea. A large seventy % of Glossier’s on-line sales come from peer referrals.

Matt Holt, Chief Strategy Officer at Digitas UK, explains why we have to deliver memorability and utility via buyer expertise. The travel trade fascinates me; not just because like everyone else I love a good holiday and a while within the solar, however it’s additionally some of the aggressive industries in relation to the SERPs. A beautifully designed web site in its personal right – it’s fairly simple to get lost browsing round. However, by pointing customers back to content material on the primary Aesop web site, it is in a position to deliver on its authentic function of promoting the core model.

Social media cosmetics branding by JayJacksonIf you need your magnificence brand to succeed, you need to model yourself on social media. While all platforms are necessary, YouTube and Instagram are each visual platforms where the majority of magnificence content material lives, making them, palms down, the most important channels for beauty manufacturers. Fenty launched with forty totally different shades of foundation, encompassing an enormous variety of pores and skin tones. As a outcome, the company was in a place to supply a greater number of choices in darker and lighter shades of make-up than most other major firms.

Logo by thisisremedy for Floral Chemistry.Customers wish to work with manufacturers they'll stand behind. So when you really wish to connect together with your customers, you should do greater than make superb lipsticks or tremendous pigmented shadows—you want a powerful corporate mission and values. Sign up for our free, 7-day e mail course and learn to construct the proper model id. When it comes to branding your corporation, there are three fundamental ideas you have to understand.

It specializes in science, and you'll see that within the design components that the logo embodies. You can’t ignore a model whose beauty brand is shiny, daring and dynamic in the way this model is — and you don’t want to. The first store opened a hundred sixty five years ago as a New York apothecary, nevertheless it has advanced right into a model that cares about all-natural merchandise and the shoppers that use them. Glossier is a modern cosmetic brand that is identified for its simplicity and minimalism — in its product providing and its product packaging.

The flowing feel of a script font is inherently feminine and conveys a simple class that might be perceived at a look. What meaning in sensible phrases is that the competitors in the magnificence industry is fierce. The huge cosmetics corporations are continuously engaged in a battle to win the business of more and more subtle customers. And even in the smallest cities, generally two or three hair or nail salons have to compete with one another for a small pool of shoppers. Over the previous twenty years we now have helped manufacturers grow from the bottom up, launch line extensions, rediscover their voice in a crowded market, and create totally new product categories. While public relations, partnerships, events like Indie Beauty Expo, and different advertising tactics may be efficient, Instagram influencers will actually increase your beauty business.

The emblem is a mirror of this magnificence brand’s products, usually described as bold, surprising and vivid. Its aesthetics is immediately derived from Kat’s tattoo artistry in its intricate typography sample even in its retail places which echo stylistic cues from gothic artwork and structure. It balances a regal history with a contemporary energy that can’t be ignored or tamed.

[onf-headcanons]

ONF Modern Fantasy!AU

or known as Familiar spirits AU

Initially called as Hybrid AU but I felt new name fits story better. I really wanna get this idea out of my system. So... this will be long. thankfully i am working in front of PC 

TLDR : You summoned 6 (previously 7) high class grade humanoid supernatural beings and you are living with them since young

As you know I always keep my HCS as flexible as possible so other than my reccomended setting, this is AU is also doable if you wanna imagine about the illegitamate/forgotten child of Satan/Lucifer with their familiars living in 21st century

Recommended background setting : 

You are an orphan from a family with historical lineage. 

Your family/last name history is very old and your family is not the main lineage but still benefit from it.  

Your parents did exposed some of the characteristic of your family, hinting about witchcrafts, paganism and summonings. You are too young to understand about it but you are still fascinated at the designs of hexes or summoning rings.

There is a secret library in your family manor that keeps dark magic books

You are alone since the age of 12 because your family passed away due to accident. Whether there is conspiracy behind it or not I shall leave it up to you. (Cos I wont be writing this into a actual story for now. Currently is just sharing idea of AU)

Story:

You felt really lonely being alone in the big household after you finally gotten yourself out of the depressing grief stage. Initially you tried to distract yourself with all the books in the study room. 

By that time you are more mature and could grasp that your family has been engaging with really unusual stuffs than other norms in the society.

Sudden realization that why your family never visited church or any other religious spots. 

Your family butler occasionally help you out figuring with your family history since their family also been serving your family for ages.

You came across with a book about summoning familiar spirits

Welp since the whole house is just you and your butler, you started studying the book and planned to try summoning.

You tried for the first time, and you succeeded (thanks to your lineage it went smooth). The first to come to your side is Jaeyoung.

But the first trial of summoning got your exhausted and passed out for 3 days. Your butler is not happy about you doing it secretly and was trying to make you send Jaeyoung back. 

As familiars exists around their summoners by slowly draining energy from their summoners. Moreover your bloodline is a delicacy for supernaturals.

Your butler mentioned he can let it slide if you summoned smaller level/grade familiars, but you apparently, summoned a high classic grade, humanoid like hybrid looking familiar.

You argued and your butler agreed to let Jaeyoung stay. But with conditions and restriction on energy intake from you the summoner. 

So Jaeyoung started live with you in the house. Usually taking up on the animal form and occasionally in humanoid form with animal ears on when you let him. (Because humanoid hybrid form tends to drain summoner energy even more and quicker)

He looks cold and quiet but actually a fun and warm being. Since he can’t follow you to school, he can only wait back home. And once you are home he would follow behind you listening to you talking about your day.

Cues in Jaeyoung get easily scared and you not help but laugh at him. And he gets pouty lol.

After some while you felt sorry for Jaeyoung and felt he is lonely without his kind being around him. You tried summoning again.

2 years after you summoned Jaeyoung, you got lucky and summoned Hyojin + Seungjoon at the same time. 

Jaeyoung is happy of course but also worried about your body. He also helped out Hyojin and Seungjoon to get familiar with the new environment.

Your butler again is not happy but thinking he is going to retire and his children are not in condition to take his place, he admits it is better if you have accompany.

Hyojin and Seungjoon are chaotic. You 4 enjoy having fun together.

Age check, Hyojin is the oldest even though he does not look like it.

Cues in plausible scenario that Hyojin and Seungjoon teasing you and you hid behind Jaeyoung for protection.

Cues in Hyojin smuggling the house fridge because he is hungry. Human food does not fill him up because it does not work that way. But he gains an interest in flavours found in human food so he could not stop eating.

Cues in you bring back food from outside to let Hyojin taste it. 

You two might make a deal that sounds like this :

Hyojin : “If you can get me thaty famous advertised burger from the street at downtown, I will let you ruffle my hair/head exclusively for a week”

Also you are amazed that Hyojin can sing beautifully. You might go to Hyojin when you cannot sleep. He would pats you and sings you to sleep. (the songs he sings either learnt human songs or he sings in supernatural language is up to you.)

Cues in you asking Seungjoon or Jaeyoung for a hug when you are feeling down.

Seungjoon would also be the one, second to Jaeyoung who always follow you around.

You are still fascinated with summoning and will try to create your own hex to try out. With years of practise experience and some assist from your familiars, Changyoon and Minseok comes next, then Minkyun and Yuto. 

You thought Changyoon was intimidating, but turns out he is on of the funniest being. Also he always help out your butler cooking dishes. Will be the one who giving you fashion advice when you started college.

Minseok being the cinammon bun roll out of all 7 of them. He mostly is quiet but always attentive. 

Cues in you might lightly squishes his cheeks because of how cute he is. His smiles are the source of your mental healing device. 

Minkyun even though being the loud one, your house starts to have more cats and dogs visiting because Minkyun attracts them.

Cues in Minkyun asks you butler with a stray animal in his hands, “Can we keep it?”. It happens very very frequently.

Yuto would be shy one and really took his time to open up. Very shy until you felt sorry for summoning him, later only to learn that summoning on succeed when both party consent, you dote on him more.

You will go to Yuto when you wanted a quiet company.

Cues in Yuto twisting your expectations when he is in prankster mode.

Cues in Yuto teaching you their supernatural being’s language.

Cues in you caught them all red handed back talking you in their own language and they freak out lol

While the other familiars give you older brother vibe, Yuto and Minseok give you younger brother vibe. 

Cues in you. Hyojin, Changyoon. Seungjoon, Jaeyoung and Minkyun fighting to be the favorite person/ favorite being of Yuto and Minseok

Its like 8 siblings in the household now.

Cues in them being chaotic and funny, filling the household with fun noises and you shed tears because you missed the house with laughter and being cheerful. They might freak out a bit but then 8 of you will just hug it out.

Cues in all of you sitting in living room watching TV and movies together. Maybe you snuggles with anyone of them in their animal form.

Fast forward, you are college student now and your butler already retired. You have a new butler in training tho.

Poor new butler, he is your previous butler’s child but he got so intimidated by the chaotic energy of the other 7.

But things eventually work out with all 9 of you. You even have Jenga and UNO night during weekend.

And you had to let Minseok go because he wished for it. It happened because you were very sick one time (maybe something happens to Minseok and you need to feed him more of your energy/blood) and you let all of them go for a short while. But when you summons them all back, the others told you that Minseok does not want to come back after seeing how sick you were. Also Minseok entrusted the other familiars to look after you. As summoning does not work if another party does not consent, you gave up on summoning Minseok.

But will occasionally send back1 or 2 of your familiars to help check up on Minseok and cues in you being relieved knowing he is doing good, healthy and happy. 

BTW, all of them start out looking like teen boys when you firstly summoned them, But with years of living together, they all have grown. Jaeyoung looks more built and taller since he spent the longest time with you. Minkyun was the tallest amongst them when you got them all.

Also, you could not recall when it started but, Jaeyoung bridal carrying you to bed  and tuck you in if you fell asleep during movie night.

You would admit the one who really has glow up if compared when you summoned, would be Minkyun

Your energy now is better and stable so you can sustain bringing more than 2 of them out with you.

Cues in you bringing them out on weekends to hang out. They will be hiding their animal ears of course. If you wish to save energy, or they are considerate, they would just wear cap or beanie to hide their ears.

Cues in them all being protective when some random guys /people trying to filrt with you.

Cues in them using magic outside and you freak out or you laugh with them. They wont be using high energy magic, just small magic for pranks. 

MTL on who you bring out with the most, Hyojin, Jaeyoung, Changyoon Seungjoon, Minkyun then Yuto. 

Hyojin - Food related

Jaeyoung - Book shopping

Changyoon - Clothes shopping

Seungjoon - Studying at library because home is chaotic af and you cannot focus if you keep laughing at all the shenanigans they do lol

Minnkyun - Feeding strays or visiting pet shelters

Yuto - Arcades

Cues in rumours about you dating 6 guys suddenly emerged in college lol

Cues in some people either jealous of you, or they started to stalk you because they want to get a glimspe of the handsome men you are living with.

Cues in some people approaching you and asking you to introduce them to your famliars.

Everytime you had to explain yourself that they are your relatives when you bump into your classmates. Until the point that you are really fed up with it, you start to avoid them when you saw them in the crowd.

Probably scenario below

“Another related cousin again?”

“Oh he is my cousin from my third aunt...”

“Wasn’t your third aunt’s son supposed to be the other guy who was taller, with a mole on his face?”

“Oh no that one is from my mum's side, this guy here is from my dad's, we are a big family.”

Overall living with your familiars makes everyday fun. Looking back, you don’t feel lonely anymore.

(Either you want to keep it fun platonic or upgrade it to you eventually fell in love with anyone of them is up to you, I will be stopping here)

Thanks for reading XD 

Bonus