#genuinely i used to have nightmares like this but the real thing is somehow so much worse

[enevera]

nothing feels real. its like some fucked up dream i can't wake up from, like if i could wake up i could call her and talk to her. but it's not a dream and i'm never going to see my mother again.

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 12k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Happy 2024, everyone! 🎉 Dropping this tonight as a welcome to the new year and the start of the wild journey that is this story. It's a different JK that I'm used to writing. It's also a different arrangement for me as the story is still being written, so just a heads up that updates won't be as regular compared to before, but they'll definitely come (pls don't come at me hehe 😁)! This is also a painfully slow build-up with lots of details and office talk so please be patient! I don’t know how this will turn out and be revived but I hope you enjoy! 💕

Also my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight as always 🥰

Jung Hoseok’s smile is like a ray of sunshine - warm on cool mornings, radiant on sunny afternoons. It’s light and infectious, but more than anything, it’s genuine. There’s comfort in the way his entire face beams and how the rest of his body follows; there’s this sense of openness that makes it easy to be around him, that makes it easy to work for him.

It was 10 years ago when you first encountered that smile - bright and encouraging as he welcomed you and the rest of the interns to his family’s company. It slowly dissolved the anxiety you were feeling over being 1 of 12 chosen students to work for one of the leading real estate and property development corporations in the country. You’d see it again two years later as an employee, and you recall how he perked up at the sight of you, having remembered those eight weeks you spent preparing the conference room for their meetings and serving the executives their coffee. 

You wouldn’t have expected that five years after that, you’d be seeing that smile everyday as his executive assistant, and it was one of the things that made the job bearable. Despite the long hours and the amount of work you had to do and events you had to accompany him to, working for Hoseok always felt worth it. Despite the insane amount of pressure he was put under and the stress he had to endure, Hoseok somehow always managed to smile. 

He was serious when he had to be, but there was joy in how he did things. He allowed himself moments of calm, of time to check in on his support team for a few laughs. He’d spare himself a few minutes a day to sway to the soft music he plays in his office, he’d preside over meetings with vigor, and he’d start and end every interaction with anyone with that smile - the same smile that assures you that all your hard work is appreciated and which encourages you to keep learning.

It’s that same smile that he has on right now, as he hands you a custom-made cake with ‘you worked hard’ written on it. He says the words as your eyes turn to him in surprise. 

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Hoseok says. “I know you were new to the role just like I was but you made everything so easy for me. I’m gonna have to get used to being without your brilliance, Ms. Cho. I hope you never doubt yourself ever again.”

Your astonished face turns into a pout, as it dawns on you that it’s Friday, the first unofficial day of you no longer being Hoseok’s executive assistant, given his appointment as President not long ago. Yet despite the big change he’ll be experiencing starting next week, he’s the one affirming and comforting you, something that’s rare for someone of his stature and something you’ll definitely miss. 

“You know I don’t cry, but I just might,” you respond, earning you a chuckle. “But really, I… I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me. I know my credentials weren’t like the others but—”

“Ms. Cho,” he interjects. “The only credentials those other applicants had were the universities they went to, but none of them matched your level of skill and dedication to the role. I can assure you that none of them would’ve managed the past three years like you did. I should be thanking you for dealing with all the craziness with me.”

“You’re a good boss, it’s that simple,” you return the compliment now. “You were patient with me and challenged me to be better without putting me down. That does a lot for a person’s confidence, you know?”

“I know that now,” he smiles again. “But really, I don’t think I could’ve asked for a more competent right-hand woman. Jungkook’s lucky he’s taking my position with the most capable assistant to help him out.”

At the mention of the man’s name, your face sours, something that Hoseok picks up, earning you another laugh. 

“Not a fan of him, I see,” he eyes you curiously.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Jung, but your cousin is not you,” you explain. “I may have only seen him a handful of times but those are enough to let me know that he does not smile.”

“Yes, I do confirm that,” Hoseok chuckles. “Jungkook’s quite the perfectionist and very much a workaholic. But he’s brilliant and creative and you’ll learn a lot from him, too. He’s being primed to co-lead the company with me and he needs a strong support for that and I think that’s you. His father thinks that’s you, and for the CEO to think so means a lot, ___. Uncle has seen how you work and was adamant that you remain in this role, especially with his son assuming the Vice President position.”

You know that Hoseok means to reassure you, but you suppose your insecurities over having this role and even being in this company won’t ever really go away. You didn’t graduate from a prestigious university in Seoul like most employees here did, and in this society, that usually means everything. You’re thankful for the trust that you’ve been given and you agree that you worked hard for it, too, but it will always be overwhelming; even then, it sometimes still feels undeserved. 

At your silence, Hoseok speaks again. “___, as your former boss and as your friend, I’m here to back you up. Jungkook’s family but if he, for some reason, acts like a hard-headed jerk, you let me know, okay?”

He turns serious now, as he silently asks for you to promise him that you’ll speak out if you need to. Hoseok knows what you went through under Mrs. Byun, the former manager who abused her power over you until her own slip-up caused her downfall years later, and he doesn’t want you to go through that again. 

“Okay. But I didn’t mean to imply that he’s a jerk just because he doesn’t smile,” you clarify. “I guess I meant to say that… I’ll miss working for you. That’s all. We somehow always got a laugh in, no matter how stressful things were. I’ll miss being with A-yeong, too.”

“I know you also meant to say that I’m the best boss you’ve ever had,” Hoseok chuckles, though you don’t miss the sadness in his eyes, too. “But I’ll just be two floors above you. You’ll still see me everywhere. And A-yeong’s gonna miss you, too, that’s why she can’t let you go without having dinner out, that I’m apparently not invited to.”

“We’re just gonna gossip about you, don’t worry,” you tease, appreciative of the fact that his wife has been kind to you all these years, apologizing to you on his behalf during the rare times he’s cranky, and gifting you little things from their trips abroad. “But thank you again, Hoseok,” you continue, dropping the formalities when you mean to speak to him as a friend, because that’s what he is, and it’s a rarity in this industry where those in power tend to take advantage of those below them. “You’ve treated me well, and I’ll never forget that.” 

“Thank you, ___,” he smiles once more. “I’ll finish setting up my new office now. I’ll see you there in 30 minutes, okay? I know Jungkook officially starts on Monday but he wanted to get all the administrative stuff out of the way as soon as possible and since my old room is being sanitized, he’ll be staying at mine the whole morning. HR has everything he needs to sign so please get those documents from them before heading to my office.”

“Oh, so he’s coming today?” You ask, unable to hide the mix of surprise and disappointment in your voice. You’re clearly uninformed about this. “Didn’t he just arrive last night?”

“Yes, he did. I thought he’d at least spend today resting but no, he called me an hour ago to say he’ll drop by this morning so he can get straight to business on his first day,” Hoseok explains, shaking his head at the thought of his cousin wanting to get straight to work. “I know it’s short notice so you don’t need to brief him or anything yet. You’ve been buried in organizing all my files this past week after all.” 

“Okay, but I’ve got everything organized for him already anyway in case he wants to start,” you say, having prepared all the documents he’d need to ease into his role more smoothly, knowing it’s your job to help him with that. 

“Of course you have,” Hoseok chuckles, impressed as always with how on top you are of everything. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

You sulk in your seat once he’s out of view, whining internally because much as your files are ready for your new boss, you’re the one who isn’t. You’d held off on mentally preparing yourself for meeting the Jeon Jungkook, second son of the current CEO of Jeon Corporation and the new Vice President, thinking you’d have the entire weekend for that, so you’re caught off guard at having to face him today. It’s one thing to move on from no longer having Jung Hoseok as your boss - that itself took you months to process and accept; it’s another to have to get used to assisting someone else, someone you know is completely different in attitude and approach to his work.

Jungkook used to be an executive in the Singapore office, the Southeast Asian headquarters of the company. In your three years as Hoseok’s assistant, you’d only seen Jungkook a few times, such as when he’d fly to Seoul for an official visit or a family gathering but you never interacted, as you didn’t really have a reason to, especially since you were always busy with making sure the event was running smoothly. 

But you’d definitely noticed him, partly because the female staff always talked about him when he was around, and partly because next to his parents and his cousins, who are all personable in their own ways, Jungkook sticks out like a sore thumb. You’re not exaggerating when you say that you’ve never seen him smile - not for the pictures and not when he’s talking to the other executives and employees, a contrast to his father’s infectious charm and his mother’s youthful energy.

You’ve gotten used to Hoseok’s passion balanced with his thoughtfulness and joy - you always enjoyed the videos that A-yeong would show you of their weekends doing ballroom dancing because it’s what he loved to do with her. You’re unsure how you’ll manage assisting someone who’s the complete opposite. You’ve heard of Jungkook’s abilities though; his father always spoke of them with pride. Creative and innovative, he’d say of his son, but he always lived in his head, too, and perhaps that’s why even if he can socialize with others, he prefers not to, given that you’d always seen him at the bar after said events, drinking on his own.

You didn’t think those times that you’d one day be having him as your boss. You didn’t expect the appointments to come this soon, nor did you expect to still be in the company by the time they happened. But here you are, about to meet him and hoping to the heavens that whatever preconceived notions you have of him based on what very little you know would be proven wrong. 

Wanting to calm yourself down before meeting him, you head to the management support team’s office for a cup of tea in the pantry, but you’re stopped by Do-hyun, one of the project assistants. 

She hugs you like she always does, even if you rarely ever return it, and she whines like you expect her to, given her unusually pouty face. 

“It’s only been an hour but I already miss Mr. Jung,” she laments. “Why did they appoint him as President so soon? They could’ve waited for another year or so, or at least let him take us with him!”

You find yourself being the reasonable one this time, as you pull her away from you so you could talk to her properly. 

“We always knew he was going to be President, Do-hyun. But then the Board decided to make Ji-woo head of the Singapore office after their uncle stepped down, and that meant Hoseok had to take his sister’s place,” you explain, knowing how generational corporations like this work, with family members rotating in the executive positions. “And much as he’d like to take us with him, the position already comes with its own team. He’s just two floors above us, though. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we popped in every once in a while to say hi.”

“No, I’m bitter,” she pouts again, earning her a laugh from you.

“Well, at least the new Vice President isn’t a stranger,” Manager Lee chimes in. 

“I heard the CEO’s son doesn’t smile,” Do-hyun counters. “How do we go from assisting someone who literally gives all of us the energy to work each day, to someone who doesn’t think there’s anything worth being happy about? I also heard he’s a workaholic, so what if he demands that we can’t leave the office until he does? And that he’s kind of a fuck boy, so what if he has a scandal that we have to—” 

“Yah! Those are just hearsay, and we don’t listen to those,” you warn her, not wanting the team to start on a bad note because of some rumors about your new boss that may or may not be true. 

And if those are, it’s your job to make sure that those are handled properly and that there’s no friction between the management support team and the Vice President. The thought suddenly hits you and you feel nauseous. You’ve never had these worries with Hoseok because he always prioritized the team - he made sure that tasks were properly delegated, that you all took your well-deserved break, that you weren’t burnt out, that you all knew he got your back the way you all got his. 

But then again, it’s natural to be anxious about change, especially when what you had was already the best it could’ve been. And much as you were the one worrying about this earlier, you’re now the one who has to reassure the team, especially the younger members, that things are going to be okay. 

“You’ll meet him soon, and I’ll make sure he’s properly oriented with everything before he sits down with you all,” you say. “Let’s just be optimistic about this, okay? Manager Lee has been here a while and he can guide all of us when it comes to adapting to changes like this.”

The rest of the team nods, voicing their agreement about being open and welcoming to your new boss. 

“Okay, good. Now let me get my tea before I combust,” you chuckle, heading towards the adjacent room. 

You’re busy taking breaths in between sips of your hot drink when you see a familiar face in the room through the glass window, prompting you to head back outside.

“Mr. Ri,” you greet, causing the man before you to turn towards you. “What are you doing here? Does Mr. Jeon need anything?” 

Knowing you’re referring to the elder Jeon, Mr. Ri shakes his head. 

“I’m here as Jungkook’s chauffeur and bodyguard, actually. His father appointed me, wanting people he trusts to help his son,” he clarifies. “I’ve just driven him from his penthouse.”

“Oh,” you say, unable to control the way your face falls a little. “So, he’s here.”

“He is. He said he wanted to get things done today so he doesn’t waste his time when he starts next week. He’s at Hoseok’s office right now. I believe he’s supposed to sign some documents?”

“Oh shit,” you blurt out, immediately setting down your half-finished tea and rushing out the door to speed-walk to your desk, ignoring Mr. Ri’s demand for you to slow down. 

With what little you know of your new boss, he seems like the type to not excuse tardiness, so you take your files, head to HR to retrieve some documents, and then proceed to Hoseok’s office. You try to catch your breath as you head towards the door, which opens before you get to knock, revealing Bitna, the President’s assistant, who greets you with a sweet smile. 

“Hi, ___. I was just about to call you,” she says. “CEO Jeon is inside as well. Just walk in, they’re waiting for you.”

You cross the small hallway as the door gently closes, and you stop in your tracks the moment you hear Jungkook’s voice.

“I still prefer my old assistant,” he says, obviously displeased. “He was very organized, highly educated, and well-traveled. While this Ms. Cho didn’t even study in a top university in Seoul. And Hoseok says she doesn’t know any other foreign languages when that’s one of my requirements.”

“Son, you’re being too harsh,” CEO Jeon chides. “Ms. Cho is a top performing employee, very hardworking and dedicated. She’s worked here for eight years and she imbibes all our values; she knows the company culture and knows the ins and outs of things with how she’s been exposed to them. Ask your cousin; Hoseok speaks highly of her.”

“___ is great, Kook. She’s incredibly organized and highly analytical and observant. She doesn’t need a Seoul education to be good at what we need her to be good at,” Hoseok argues. 

“I still want my old assistant. It’s more convenient that way. Lucas already knows how I work and what I require of him,” Jungkook insists. “I’m just saying that I need things to be efficient and she and I can’t be adjusting to each other when there are multiple projects that I’d much rather give my attention to.”

“And I’m saying that Ms. Cho probably knows more than you do when it comes to these projects,” the elder Jeon counters. “Plus, your old assistant would have to adjust to life in Seoul and that’s harder. It’s just not practical, especially since you’re due to start in a few days. You have other things to worry about. ___ is there to make your life easier. Give her that chance to do her job.”

“But I—”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greet, not wanting to hear whatever unfounded things that Jungkook has to say, even if you have your own preconceived notions about him which, you remind yourself, are partly founded. Barely five minutes in and you already can’t stand his judgmental and entitled ass. 

You walk towards the middle of the room where they’re congregated on the couches, with the elder Mr. Jeon and Hoseok smiling at you while Jungkook merely glances at you, his jaw clenched, perhaps irritated at the fact that you’d overheard him completely misjudge and undermine your abilities without even knowing who you are.

“Good morning, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “I know you’ve seen him a few times but I’d like you to officially meet my son and the new Vice President, Jungkook.”

Jungkook turns to you with a disinterested look but he doesn’t meet your eyes. You bow as a sign of respect, even if it’s the last thing you think he deserves.  

“My pleasure, Mr. Jeon,” you respond. “I was told that you’d like to proceed with administrative matters this morning. I have all the documents with me and I can explain each one to you before you sign them. I’ve also consolidated all the things you need to know prior to your meetings next week,” you add, handing him an iPad. “This has the resumes of each member of your management support team, including their professional and development goals. Mine are there as well, so you can read about my credentials and achievements in this company the past eight years, which I think have tremendously helped me in performing my duties satisfactorily. There’s also a folder of team profiles of each of the departments you’re overseeing. You’ll also find closure reports of completed projects from the past five years, progress reports of ongoing projects, and approved and working proposals of upcoming ones. I’ve included summaries and key figures for each of them. You may read them prior to your meetings, and if there’s anything missing that you’d like me to include, I can have them ready by the end of the day.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums, as he scrolls through all the folders you’ve prepared for him.

In your periphery, you can see the other two men holding in smiles as you seemingly render the younger man speechless, but while he assesses all that you’ve provided to him, you’re given time to observe the man seated before you. Other than his slightly longer hair, not much has changed from when you saw Jungkook in last year’s gala. 

As he drags his tongue across the inside of his cheek with his scrunched eyebrows in judgment, you’re reminded that this is the first time you’ve seen him up close. And even from his angle, you can tell. 

He’s unfairly handsome. 

He’s got dark expressive eyes, soft-looking pink lips, and a sharp jawline that complement his lean figure. You understand why the staff are enamored by him even from afar and - if the rumors about him are true - why women would shoot their shot with him at clubs, in hopes they’d be the lucky one he’d choose to be with for the night.

The illusion breaks, though, as he turns to you with a hardened gaze. 

“I’m sure I’ll find something that’s missing,” he states.

“If they’re relevant and necessary, I can have the files ready by today,” you respond, knowing full well that you’ve included every possible document that would be of use to him. 

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant and necessary, Ms. Cho,” he counters. 

“Of course, Mr. Jeon,” you say, conceding. “Whatever it is, then I’ll make sure to have them ready for you as soon as possible.”

Jungkook hums in response, turning his attention to the HR documents this time, breezing through the text and ignoring your brief explanations of the contents before signing at the bottom of the pages. You inform him of sections he’s missed, and he groans at having been corrected but you don’t mind. He’s the one who chose to do all this now and in here, in front of his father and his cousin.

Once he’s done, he hands you the signed files and holds your gaze. “Is there anything else, Ms. Cho?”

“I suppose that is all, Mr. Jeon. Unless there are other things you want to assess, or people you want to ensure are qualified to assist you with your functions,” you say. 

Jungkook huffs in displeasure. You can sense the tension build, as irritation paints his face. It’s at that moment that his father chimes in, suggesting that you introduce him to his team.

“You can maybe also orient him on the current projects and partnerships,” the older man says. 

“That can wait. I’ve had enough of engaging for today,” Jungkook responds, his voice cold, detached. 

“In that case, let me lead you to your floor, Mr. Jeon.”

You step back and wait for him to walk ahead, before you excuse yourself from the older men. You don’t miss the sorry looks on their faces, and you give them a smile as if to say that it’s fine, that Jungkook’s someone you can handle, and his obvious displeasure towards having you as his assistant doesn’t faze you. It doesn’t change the fact that you wish he wasn’t your boss though, or at least, that he wasn’t such a jerk like what he’s being right now.

Walking behind him as you both head towards the elevator, you see the way he carries himself - hands in the pockets of his sleek black trousers, his eyes focused straight ahead, nothing like Hoseok who was always gesticulating as he spoke to you every time you walked side-by-side from one place to another.    

Jungkook stands in front of the doors, seemingly waiting for you to press the buttons and you do it before he could even express his annoyance. You stand in front this time, then make sure you hold the doors open for him to exit, and you resume your spot behind him as you walk down the hallway. 

“On the left are two small meeting rooms and one conference room,” you start, thankful that there’s not much to tour him around on this floor, given that everything is exclusive to the Vice President. “On the right is a seating room, and up ahead is an archive room. Down the—”

“I’ve been here before, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook interjects as he looks at you blankly. “This is my family’s building; I’m very much aware of how the floors look like.”

Not rattled by his disruption, you nod and smile, wanting to show him that whatever intimidation or humiliation he’s trying to make you feel isn’t gonna work on you. You know if you show any sign of frustration, that will just give him a reason to have you replaced and despite your clear dislike for the man, you need this job, especially this position that allows you to pay your rent in a safe part of town and send money to your family every month. At this point, that’s the only thing that will keep you going.

Approaching the management support office, you walk faster and make sure to enter the room before he does, signaling the team with your eyes that their new boss is coming, your silently frantic gaze telling them to be on their best behavior because their usual antics won’t work on Jungkook the way they did with Hoseok. 

Once Jungkook appears, everyone bows and greets him, and you can sense them holding their breaths as they look up, taking him all in. You see him eye each person, and you can tell he’s already assessing them individually. You take it upon yourself to introduce each one, stating their name, where they studied and what course they took, describing their primary role in the team and their specific strengths. You see him follow your words, nodding and humming as you go, and you think he’s processing the information and making sure he remembers them. 

There are no pleasantries; Jungkook just goes straight to the point. 

“I’m sure you have concerns about having a new boss and the changes that come along with it. But I’m here to tell you now that you should get over whatever those are, as I’d like the adjustment period to be as short as possible,” he starts. “My cousin is brilliant at his job and so am I, but we work very differently, so whatever you got used to doing with and for him, don’t expect the same with me. I demand excellence and efficiency from each one of you because that’s what I commit myself to and that’s the only way that this team will be able to do its job. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the team answers in unison. 

“We commit to those as well, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee says. “As the head of your support team, I will make sure that all our deliverables are of high quality and that things will run smoothly so that we may properly do our job of assisting you.”

“That’s good, and that’s what I expect,” Jungkook says, nodding at everyone before walking out the door to head to his office, with you trailing him from behind. 

“Is my room still being sanitized?” He turns to you. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did it need to be sanitized? And why today?”

“It’s protocol, sir. We also had a sendoff for Mr. Jung yesterday so the room smelled of food. And he instructed for this to be done today so that I don’t need to come here tomorrow, as he doesn’t like any of his staff working during the weekend,” you reply. “This should be finished this afternoon. I’ve also purchased the oil for your diffusers. The room will be ready for you by Monday.”

Jungkook merely hums and looks around, specifically at your designated area with your desk and shelves at the back, then takes a call before turning to you again to say that he’s heading out to meet his friends.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, thankful that you don’t have to deal with him for the rest of the day.

“No.”

“Okay then, sir. I’ll meet you at your apartment at 6:30 AM on Monday. Is that time alright?”

“Sure,” he responds, then turns around and starts walking out. “Just keep your phone on. I work during the weekend.”

He’s gone before you can even respond, and you rush to the support office once you’ve heard the elevator ding that indicates that he’s gone. When you get there, you’re greeted with everyone’s frowns, with Do-hyun close to tears.

“I don’t like him, ___. He looks so unapproachable and too serious!” She complains. “I miss Mr. Jung. Is there an opening in his team? Should I just resign?”

“Aish!” You reprimand her. “Don’t speak like that. And don’t let those few minutes determine everything for you.”

“Well, those few minutes are enough to tell me that I don’t like him. No matter how good-looking he is,” Chin-sun says.

“He is, right!” Do-hyun chirps now, a complete 180 from seconds ago. “I’ve seen him around but I didn’t think he’d be even more handsome up close! It just sucks that he’s a grinch and that makes all the difference. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t have a girlfriend! He’s probably too snobby and—”

“Yah! You really need to stop it with those rumors,” you scold her this time. “That’s your boss. His personal life is none of our business. Where do you even hear these things?”

“Every washroom in this building, basically. Staff are always gossiping there, you know?” Do-hyun responds. 

“And since when do we listen to gossip,” you scowl at her. “Sure, he’s not our favorite person right now but we don’t have the right to make claims about aspects of his life. And where are people even getting those ideas!”

“People talk, I guess,” she shrugs. “And he’s often spotted in clubs with those Kim brothers so maybe they see things. I’m not saying they’re all accurate… just that rumors often have some truth to them, you know?”

“No, I don’t, and we shouldn’t be sticking our noses in places where they shouldn’t be,” you say.

“Fine, but it’s just a heads up,” Do-hyun says, turning serious now. “You’re his executive assistant, and you have no choice but to stick your nose in places because personal and professional lines are often blurred in your situation, and that’s just how our world’s set up.”

“She’s right,” Chin-sun chimes in. “I mean, you need to know his personal schedule, go to his apartment, do errands if you need to, maybe buy a box of condoms if he runs out… You just got lucky that Mr. Jung’s pretty chill and has a wife who’s even nicer than he is. Your only problem was that he was damn scared of everything that moved and wasn't human.”

You’d laugh at the last statement if you could, but you know they’re both right. Hoseok wasn’t perfect, and neither was his marriage, but it never reached a point where you had to be put in a compromising position because you were his assistant who, by nature of your work, had to be privy to some of his personal matters. The most involved you were was when he and A-yeong had an argument and they used you as their messenger, but even that was more of a miscommunication issue than anything serious. They apologized to you after and promised to never put you in that kind of situation again.

But with Jungkook as a single man, you’re unsure what personal business you’d end up being involved in. You just wish it wasn’t something that would test your principles and cause you to lose your job. Regardless, whatever that would be isn’t something you can even really talk about with others.

“Well, I don’t wanna think about any of that right now,” you sigh, knowing you’ve got enough to worry about, such as how you’re going to start surviving everyday assisting a man who clearly doesn’t want you around. 

But if he’s gonna be a hard-head about it, then you’re just going to have to match him. You got to where you are because you’re determined to prove yourself constantly, and you’ll just show him that he needs you, and he doesn’t really have a choice unless he wants to argue with his father. 

You try to encourage your team once more and give Do-hyun that rare hug in comfort before going back to your desk, intent on finishing all the presentations for your briefing with Jungkook next week. You begin setting up his room by mid-afternoon, using a photo of his Singapore office as a basis since you were told that he prefers a certain style for his furniture and decor. You’re no stylist but over an hour after you finish, you think you did pretty good. You were so into designing the space that you didn’t notice the time fly by; before you know it, it’s 6PM, because you can hear A-yeong right outside calling for you.

“Hi,” she chirps, hugging you in greeting. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll just pack my things,” you say, walking to your desk. 

A-yeong takes a peek at the room and praises your efforts. “This looks so different from how it used to be. And that’s good because those cousins have such different tastes. But I think Jungkook will like this. He’s into the masculine and moody vibe, so good job, ___.”

You know that despite her kindness, she wouldn’t lie, and you could only hope that she’s right. You think it looks nice, but it’s what he thinks that matters; you’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out. 

As you’re about to leave, Hoseok appears in the hallway and asks how you are. Your scowl pretty much gives you away.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook, ___. He’s stubborn and a hot-head sometimes but he isn’t always like that, and this isn’t me making excuses for him,” your former boss says. 

“Why, what did he do?” A-yeong asks worriedly. 

“Basically implied that I’m not qualified for this role, among other things,” you respond. “But it’s okay. Not like I haven’t heard that before.”

“And you know that’s not true,” Hoseok comforts you. “He’s not good with change, that’s all, and you know how these appointments were all pretty short notice and he’s just been frustrated ever since. But whatever it is he said, don’t take them to heart. He’ll get a word from me, and he’ll definitely get one from his father.”

You want to say that it’s not easy to just disregard what Jungkook said; he’s your boss after all, and all that matters is what he thinks about you. But you’re not one to air out these feelings to Hoseok now that you’ve experienced a bit of what it’s like, so you just shake your head and ask the older man to let it go.

“He’s probably just tired,” you make an excuse this time, not wanting to discuss further with Hoseok. “And he had that assistant for over five years. I can understand wanting that familiarity and convenience. I’m just gonna have to adjust; there are a lot of things going on right now and he’ll need to focus on the projects, not his compatibility with his assistant.”

“But that matters though,” Hoseok insists. “I got things done because we worked well together. He’s gonna have to meet you in the middle with this one. And I’ll make sure that he does.”

“I know you said you want to look out for me but I don’t think it’s a good idea if you intervene this time, Mr. Jung,” you say, letting him know you’re serious and you mean business. “I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”

You give him a comforting smile, and you hope it’s enough to quell Hoseok’s own worries and it works this time. He returns it before letting you and his wife go, and it’s the Thai dinner and incredible desserts that somehow make up for your not-so-great day. 

You think the weekend will give you the peace you need to face your dreaded week - you do your errands and chores on Saturday and go to the market and watch a movie by yourself in the cinema the next day. 

All it took was a text from Jungkook that Sunday evening, asking for copies of certain policies and disapproved proposals from the last five years, that just had to ruin it, as you spend the entire evening consolidating the files, making you already wish it was Friday.

Jungkook’s apartment building is one of the Jeon properties that you haven’t been to yet, as it’s one of the newer massive residential structures that they built three years ago. You enter the sleek-looking lobby then submit your documents at the reception in exchange for your own access, and you internally marvel at how luxurious everything looks. 

You get to the 42nd floor, and it seems that there are only two units here. You walk towards the one on the right, choosing to be on the safe side by ringing the doorbell. It’s Monday, after all, and it’s your first time here; you don’t want to just enter without him permitting you to do so. 

You’re about to press the button again after a minute of no response, when the door opens and you take a moment to process the sight before you. 

There, standing just a few feet away, is Jungkook with nothing but a pair of black gym shorts on, his taut chest glistening in sweat, and his entire right arm covered in black and colored ink. His hair is damp and ruffled, and it’s probably due to the boxing he’d just done, as evidenced by the wraps on his knuckles and the way he’s panting heavily. 

You get your senses back and look away, not wanting to look affected by his half-naked form, even if you’re the one who has to catch her breath this time because much as you dislike the man, you can’t deny that his body is something that definitely deserves to be praised. 

“You’re here,” he speaks first, surprise laced in his voice as he takes in your obviously flustered form.

“I asked if 6:30 AM was a good time to come, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, glancing at him before looking at whatever you could behind him. “Perhaps I misheard your confirmation. I can wait downstairs if you’re not yet done with your exercise. My apologies for coming in early.”

You don’t actually have anything to be sorry for; he did confirm the time, and he’s the one who decided that working out at this hour was a good idea, knowing that his assistant’s scheduled to come. You would’ve appreciated it if he says you don’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t.

“It’s fine, I just finished,” he huffs. 

He leaves the door open for you to enter then heads straight to the large room on the right, which looks to be an indoor gym. You allow yourself a few seconds to look at his retreating form, quietly gasping as his broad shoulders and slender waist blind you a little, then scolding yourself for doing so. You stay rooted by the kitchen and look around the spacious penthouse as you wait for him to return. He exits the gym wearing a loose white shirt now, combing his hair with his fingers as he drinks a bottle of water.

“So, Mr. Jeon, uh, I would prepare Mr. Jung’s outfits for the week and then help his house staff make his breakfast. I run down his schedule as he eats. Are you okay with the same arrangement?” 

“Sure. I just don’t have any staff with me so you’re on your own. I’m fine with anything though. I’m not usually hungry in the morning,” he says before walking to the other side of the apartment.

You follow him, careful not to enter spaces you’re not given permission to, which is why you stand by his bedroom door before asking to come in. 

“How will you prepare my clothes from there?” He huffs. “Of course you can enter. Just be done before I finish taking a shower.”

You nod shyly and then head to the walk-in closet that thankfully has a separate door from the bathroom. He’s already unpacked his clothes, although not everything has been organized. You spot a few suits that are ready to wear, and you fix those first, taking note of asking him if there are things he wants dry cleaned or pressed. 

You leave his bedroom in time, hearing him slide open the door as you make it out, and proceed to make his breakfast. There’s really not much you can create with what little he has, so you make do with eggs and toast and whatever spread you find in his cupboard.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen not long after, the dark gray suit looking immaculate on him as you expected. Spotting his crooked necktie, you immediately walk up to him to fix it, unaware of how he holds his breath with how close you are. Noticing his body stiffen, you step back right away, apologizing for not asking permission first. 

He looks away and says it’s fine, then sits on the spot at the dining table where you’ve set up his meal. He stares at it for a good few seconds, prompting you to explain yourself.

“That’s… that’s all I could make with what you have, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “I can arrange for online groceries for you, as well as dry clean and pressing for your clothes and—”

“I’m having someone come in to clean my place and do all of that,” he says, as he takes a bite of his food. “So, what’s my week like?”

You start to enumerate the conference and lunch meetings he’ll be having this week, including who they’ll be with and their purpose. They’re mostly with the department leads to discuss updates on processes and current projects, and you’re thankful that Hoseok involved you as much as he did, given that Jungkook’s questions are more specific than you expected. 

Sure, he’s a Jeon and obviously works in the same company, but the Southeast Asian projects are different from the ones being implemented in South Korea, and while he used to oversee overall compliance to design standards, he’ll now be in-charge of setting those very standards this time. As Vice President, he’ll be involved in crafting policies; he’s also free to manage his own construction projects, and that’s what the support team is for. Given his much more expansive role this time, there are more departments and projects to oversee, and definitely more executive decisions to make. 

You suppose it’s why his questions don’t stop, even after he’s cleaned up and you both find yourselves in the backseat of the car and on the way to the office. He looks through the iPad with all the files you gave him, and you see the notes he’s made on them as you turn to him to answer his queries. Even if you know that he’s also still assessing you - perhaps on your knowledge and attention to detail - you can’t help but admire his thoroughness. You may have also cursed him in frustration for making you work on a Sunday, but he seems to have done way more than you, given that he went through all the documents over the weekend. You suddenly don’t feel too annoyed. 

But of course, he has to ruin it again.

“I need these annotated versions of the project and departmental documents ready before my meetings with the respective teams,” Jungkook says, his voice low and stern. “And I expect progress reports to be as detailed as possible, so make sure to check them first before they get to me. The ones you gave need revisions. I believe you’re trained enough to know immediately that these are lacking.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, noting his instructions on your notebook while internally yelling, given that you’re unsure of the need for them before the meetings. 

Surely, he could give you some time to work on them, but with a meeting with one team in the afternoon and seven more the rest of the week, and on top of the other things you need to do for him, you already know you’ll be cramming to get everything done. 

You try to manage your breathing. Somehow, your habit of pressing your nails against your palm when you're stressed has miraculously come back today. It was something you developed while working under Mrs. Byun, which you eventually got over after working for Hoseok. You feel the anxiety build up, especially as you look at the half crescent marks on your skin, and it’s times like this that you wish your best friends were based in Seoul instead of Busan, so you’d at least have people to comfort you when things are a little tough. 

It’s not to say that work wasn’t overwhelming before. It definitely was, but Hoseok always found a way to make everything bearable and he was always reasonable with what he demanded of you. Now you’re stuck with a man who already makes you feel like your hard work isn’t enough. 

You make it to the office with no other words said and a thick tension in the air. It follows you to the elevator and into Jungkook’s room, where he dismisses you so he can prepare for the first meeting of the day. You rush to your desk and get on with your tasks, making sure to work on the annotated project file that he needs by the afternoon. 

It’s an hour later when you find yourself in the conference room for the meeting with the management support team. You prepped them just 10 minutes earlier, and while you tried to hide your frustration, your unusual lack of energy told them enough that it wasn’t exactly a good start of the day. 

They come in one by one, and you take the time to prepare Jungkook’s coffee, remembering from his former assistant’s notes how he wants it. He’d put it off earlier, given that he prefers to drink his protein shake after his workout, so this is the first time you’re doing it for him.

His eyes flit from the coffee in front of him to you as you place it on the table.

“Two espresso shots and half teaspoon each of milk and sugar,” you state, wanting to confirm that you got it right.

He merely takes a sip, places it down again, and then starts the meeting. 

How bold of you to assume that he’d thank you or even acknowledge it, as if he’d shown you even the tiniest amount of gratitude for anything you've done for him since Friday. Which he hasn’t. 

You let it go and proceed to sit next to him, your eyes and ears ready for what you already predict is gonna be a long meeting. 

It ends over three hours later. As you expected, he had a lot of questions. He made sure that each member had time to explain their current tasks and how they will monitor the projects assigned to them. You didn’t miss the way he’d acknowledged them with “good” and “well done,” and thanked them after they finished. He only nodded at you after your turn, with his eyes barely meeting yours, and for all the confidence you built over the past three years, you can’t process how it’s his non-acknowledgment that’s just going to undo all that. And quite frankly, you’re unsure if that’s on him or if that’s on you. 

Half of the meeting was spent discussing the big project that he wants to take on as Vice President. There’s a property they recently acquired - a non-operational arts center that he wants to revive by adding a performance hall, small theaters, a grand library, function rooms, and a permanent exhibition presenting the buildings that his family had developed over the years to showcase their architectural designs. 

You saw the excitement in your team members’ faces. Hoseok took over with several unfinished projects so you all had to focus on those. Aside from Manager Lee, this is the first time that you’re all handling something new and different. Even you felt the excitement creep in, a welcome emotion given how your day’s been going, but that shattered once he said that he wants it done by June of next year in time for an International Media Festival happening in August. The 12-month period he’s giving is too short with everything he wants to do, and you saw that the team felt the same. 

You go to them after Jungkook leaves for a lunch meeting, and their sighs and pouty faces tell you enough. Mr. Lee does his job of encouraging the team, and you add that you’re all gonna be supporting each other through it all. Sure, you’d have to match Jungkook’s ambition and thoroughness, but you should all take it as a challenge. 

You’re clearly not convinced yourself as the words come out of your mouth, but you don’t have time to debrief with them, as you still have that meeting with the design department that you have to prepare for. You take two biscuits and a cup of tea, and you decide that this is enough to last you throughout lunch, given that you’ll be spending the entirety of it working on the files. 

You don’t realize that an hour and a half have passed until you hear footsteps and see Jungkook’s form appear in the hallway. You stand to greet him, with him asking if you’re done with the annotated documents. 

“I’ll send it in five minutes, sir,” you say, hoping he’ll at least give you that. 

“Okay,” he responds. “Come to my office after you’ve sent it.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, quickly finishing the last two pages once he closes the door. 

You rush to get everything done and click send, then you head to his office and prepare yourself for more questions. It’s quiet inside as you watch him behind the desk, with his legs crossed and his eyebrows furrowed as he reads the document. You answer one of his questions and it’s at that moment when your very empty stomach decides to make itself known.

You freeze on your spot, as the grumbling sound starts low, getting louder for a few beats before it temporarily stops. Your eyes widen in embarrassment, and you press your belly so hard with your fingers in hopes that that would do anything, even if you’re too far gone at this point. Your only hope is that it was all in your head, but Jungkook’s eyes flitting to you tells you otherwise. The only other sound in his room is the air purifier, but it’s not remotely loud enough to drown out your intense hunger. 

It goes again, and all you can do is look away; humiliating yourself was definitely not the plan for your first day as Jeon Jungkook’s assistant.

“Do you need to step away, Ms. Cho?” He asks, not meeting your eyes. 

“Oh, it’s not… uh,” a bowel emergency or something, you want to say. “I just had a busy lunch break.” 

You settle for that, a hint that you’d spent its entirety doing something in such a short notice. Hoseok would always be apologetic whenever he had you do something during your break; he always made up for it with a nice meal as thanks. You doubt you’d get anything close to that from this man.

Jungkook hums and surprisingly doesn’t ask for anything else. He dismisses you and orders you to go ahead and prepare the conference room for the next meeting, and you do just that, dropping by the pantry for a muffin that you eat in four bites, in hopes that it would be enough to shut your stomach for the next three hours. 

Right as you exit, Jungkook picks up his phone to make a call. And then another one.

“Mr. Ri, please pick up the pastries that Ms. Cho ordered at the food hall,” he instructs his chauffeur. “She’s too busy right now.”

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

Taking minutes of a meeting when you’re starving is not a good thing. You know this because you’ve done this so many times, like during monthly executive meetings and the quarterly board meetings that have you spread out thin. It’s also not rare to miss out on lunch because there’s a report to finish or a site to visit; during events, you go on a day with having barely eaten anything. 

But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that your body has fully adapted, because here you are, eyeing the croissants in front of you, your mouth watering at the gloss and softness of the pastry. They’re so tempting and also out of reach, given that you need to be entirely focused on the discussion that you’re documenting, and munching on something is out of the question. You don’t even know where this is from and you think maybe the design department called for snacks but it’s really not helping your concentration.

You hope the way you’re nibbling your lips doesn’t give you away, but Yoongi from across the table picks it up, as you get a notification of his message.

[From: Min Yoongi] you didn’t have lunch, did you? 

You ignore the prompt on your laptop and respond to him with a look instead. You know your pouty lips will give him his answer, and he merely shakes his head at the confirmation. 

You do your best to shut out the sight and scent of the food before you, absorbing instead the discussion so you can note this down properly with just minimal edits needed. You have a lot of documents to work on for the next few days after all, and that’s on top of the file reorganization that Jungkook asked you to do. 

It works after you hang on by a thread for two and a half hours, a little earlier than you expected to finish. All you want is to sneak out that croissant and maybe some tarts, too, but your heart breaks when you look up and find the boxes empty. 

You let out a sigh, relieved that your boss didn’t hear you because he’s already on the phone and heading out the door. But it’s that same time that a plate of food appears in front of you, and it feels like the gates of heaven have opened. You’re not surprised anymore to find out who it’s from.

“Eat,” Yoongi says from next to you. “I could see your hands shaking from across the table.”

“What about you?” You ask, your lips in a pout once more. 

“You know I don’t eat these things,” he shrugs.

He doesn’t, and you know this, too. You also know he called dibs on these earlier, seeing as his staff were quick to get them, and he’d saved these so he could give them to you. 

“Ten years later and you’re still trying to make sure I eat, huh?” You say, nudging him with your hips to tease.

“If I don’t, who would?” He responds, walking out of the conference room with you. “You have a bad habit of not doing that.”

“Well, duty calls. What can I do?” 

“Take care of yourself even if it’s hard,” he replies. 

“Says the man who rarely does it himself,” you chuckle. 

“You know, the best advice I give are the ones I don’t actually follow, so disregard the fact that I don’t even do what I say because they apparently work,” he says. “But I mean it, ___. Eat this now.”

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you smile, taking a piece of pastry and eating it in two bites. 

Your puffed out cheeks cause him to laugh, and despite still being hungry after this, you suppose it’s enough to not make you faint at this moment. 

“And eat a proper dinner, okay?” He follows up.

“I’ll be off late, so I’ll just grab something from the convenience store,” you say. “That’s as proper as I can afford tonight.”

“Aish, fine,” he shakes his head. “But let me get you coffee at least. Those tarts won’t taste as good without one.”

“That would be life-saving,” you dramatically say. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“Don’t know. I mean, I’m not that great,” he shrugs. 

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll save the compliments once I have the coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he feigns annoyance, gesturing for you to get back to your desk then walking the other direction. 

You take your seat and clean up the document, deciding that you’ll just review the meeting minutes tomorrow so you can get on with other pressing matters. It’s 20 minutes later when Yoongi returns, a tall cup of coffee on one hand and a banana loaf on the other.

“This is all they have left,” he says. “I hope it can last you until tonight.”

“It will,” you smile. “Thank you again. No one looks out for me here as much as you do. And that means a lot, more than you know. I don’t think I would’ve survived all these years without you.”

“Wow, all because of coffee and snacks,” he laughs, teasing. 

“It’s a fair trade. You feed me during my greatest need, I boost your ego,” you tease back. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi huffs in submission, but you know he enjoys it. 

You’re thankful that after everything that’s happened, you’re still able to maintain the friendship that you created when you were a mere intern and he was just starting out his career. 

“Anyway, I’m quickly meeting Jungkook and I need the portfolio of the contemporary arts institution joint project from 2019. It was VP-led so I assume it’s still here? Unless it’s in the archive room,” he continues.

“It’s within five years so it should be here,” you say, turning to the shelf behind you to confirm. 

You spot what you need and make the attempt to pull it out but your fingers barely even touch the rack.

“Need help?” Yoongi asks.

“And what help could you give, huh?” You tease again, earning you a playful groan.

“You brat.”

You laugh and pull out the small stool you keep for times like this. 

“Just make sure I don’t fall and embarrass myself further today,” you say, climbing up the steps then pulling out the heavy folder. 

You feel Yoongi’s arm move from where it was near your waist to over your head, as he lightens the load. You both try to balance it and laugh at your distorted faces in the process, and it’s moments of relief like this one that you’re glad you’re afforded after a long day like today. 

From inside the room, Jungkook sees you through the window, your eyes crinkling as you laugh along with Yoongi, head of the design department and one of his very few friends in the company. It catches him off guard, as he realizes that since meeting you last Friday, he’s never seen you laugh, much less smile or even have an expression that isn’t agitated or serious.

He knows that that’s probably on him. He’d spoken ill of you after all, something he regretted once he saw the frustration on your face when you made it known that you were in the room with them and had definitely heard everything he said. But he’d been tired and HR confirmed that he could bring Lucas over as his assistant; CEO Jeon was the one who vetoed that decision. 

Jungkook had already mentally prepared himself for the ease of his transition, knowing that he’d be assisted by someone who knows how he works and the quality of outputs he expects, only to come here and be told by his father that the current staff will stay, and that you - someone he’d only heard of as Hoseok’s assistant - will be the one assisting him from now on. Your resume didn’t even impress him.

Jungkook doesn’t like change and when he has to undergo it, he needs as much of what was familiar and convenient to remain; that’s the only bit of control he can have and he hates not being in control of things. You just happened to unluckily be at the receiving end of his anger.

But unlike what he expected, you stood up to him in the subtle ways you could. He’s been so used to people just following him, partly because his way is always the best but also because he commands that respect, and he knows his capabilities enough to know that he deserves it as well. So when you answered back, he felt rattled and just a little bit uneasy. He was unable to backtrack after, but he didn’t really plan to.

That doesn’t mean that he didn’t plan on being a bit of a jerk today, too. He’d been exhausted working over the weekend after going through all the files you gave him that he snoozed his alarm so many times and ended up doing his workout later than he intended. When you rang the doorbell and stood by his door with your skirt and satin top, he suddenly felt lightheaded.

He mentally smacked himself once the thought that your pastel colored outfit brought out your eyes more than the monochrome ensemble from last week floated in his head. He just hated that not only are you thorough with your work, you have to be beautiful, too. He’d never admit to anyone that both of those things make him nervous, and it’s the only reason why he thinks he needs to establish his authority so that he doesn’t get rattled the next time you counter him.

That’s why he demanded more work, which he didn’t intend to take up so much of your time, like your lunch break. He’d seen how your hands shook while you were taking notes during the meeting, prompting him to end the meeting early so you can have something to eat of what he’d bought but he’d left before he could find out if there was anything left for you. 

Maybe there wasn’t enough, as he also witnessed Yoongi hand you what seemed like food with coffee that the man also got for you just minutes ago. The smile you gave him was bright and sincere. Jungkook doesn’t think he’d ever see that directed at him, considering how he’d been to you on his first day, but maybe that’s also good; that could be his defense. Maybe it’d help quell that initial attraction that he doesn’t want and cannot allow at all to grow.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t agitate him to see you a bit too close with his friend, because with the way you seem so comfortable and with the way that Yoongi sports that rare smile, it almost feels like there’s something there.

Jungkook is the son of the CEO, and having personal relationships within the company isn’t exactly advisable, but he’d gone to university with Yoongi and their introverted personalities instantly clicked. The older man is perhaps the only non-relative company employee that Jungkook kept in touch with when he was in Singapore, not that he even really talked much to his family outside of work anyway.

But in all the years of their friendship, his friend never mentioned any relationship - nor the makings of one - with another staff member. Jungkook hates how his curiosity is slowly getting to him. Maybe a few more moments would tell him more, but something about the scene happening outside his room is making him nervous and uneasy, so he decides to step in.

“Hey, Yoon,” he says as he opens the door. “Can we discuss now? I have to meet my parents for dinner in an hour.”

Your bubble with Yoongi bursts at the sound of Jungkook’s voice, and you immediately return to your seat. Your friend nods at you then enters the room, leaving you the peace and quiet you need to plop down on the floor for a quick snack of your loaf before going back to work, glancing inside every once in a while to see how the two are going, and perhaps confirm the friendship that you didn’t expect the two would have.

“This building is a good starting point,” Yoongi agrees with Jungkook. “If this is the general feel you want for the Arts Center, I can look into other projects and designs and come up with ideas. I’ll just ask ___ for the files I need.”

“You two seem close,” Jungkook says too quickly. 

Leaning back against the chair, Yoongi processes the question that he didn’t expect he’d hear. More than that, he tries to read what’s underneath it, knowing that his friend’s tone of voice and feigned stoic expression mean something more.

“You could say that,” Yoongi replies. “She did say that no one’s looked out for her here as much as I have. And that she wouldn’t have survived all these years without me.”

“So you’re actually friends?”

“Yes.”

“Were you more?”

Yoongi chuckles, the question giving him the answer he’s looking for. Jungkook may often be too serious but he can be transparent sometimes, too.

“Does it matter?” The older man asks.

“Just don’t want to be surprised, that’s all,” Jungkook shrugs. “If there’s an employee relationship happening under my nose, I should at least know.”

“It happens here a lot,” Yoongi responds. “I mean, it gives people something to gossip about but it’s how things are - work sucks sometimes and we want someone to hold at the end of a terrible day.”

Feeling like he won’t get an answer to a question that Jungkook doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask in the first place, he just shakes his head to concede. 

But it’s what prompts Yoongi to reply. 

“We met when she was just an intern,” he says. “We used to take the same bus then found out we both came from Daegu. Then she was employed and we were both on the logistics team before I was reassigned and she got the EA role.”

Jungkook merely hums, taking in the information.

“I also asked her out before,” Yoongi continues, earning him a surprised look from the younger man. “You just can’t help what you feel sometimes, you know?  But she turned me down, said she didn’t want to lead me on because she didn’t feel anything more. She also doesn’t like being involved with a co-worker, so yeah.”

“How are you still friends?”

“Asks the guy who’s still friends with his ex,” Yoongi laughs.

“Chaerin and I are civil, there’s a difference. And we haven’t spoken in years.”

“You loved her, though,” Yoongi counters. “I never got to that point.”

“This isn’t about me,” Jungkook huffs. 

Knowing it’s a topic that his friend doesn’t like talking about, Yoongi relents. “I moved on. That was years ago,” he says. “And it seemed like she needed someone. I mean, she’s not from here and her friends aren’t here, either. She appreciated the friendship even if she said she didn’t think she deserved it. I guess that made me really get over her, you know? That’s all she wanted and needed from me; it was better than not having her around.”

“How brave,” Jungkook remarks. 

“You mean mature?” Yoongi corrects. “Yes, that’s what I am, and it’s the best I could be for her. Especially since she’s got a boss who makes her miss lunch because somehow, there’s just so much to do for your first day on the job.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jungkook groans. 

“I will. Only so you could feel bad.”

“I already do. That’s why I…”

“Bought the pastries,” Yoongi finishes. “I mean, I didn’t order them.”

“Was any even left for her?” Jungkook sighs, remembering how he was internally screaming for you to just get from the box and he’d been the jerk to not offer you some even if it was technically for you.

“Sort of. I put some aside for myself so I could give them to her.”

“You sure you don’t like her anymore?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, an attempt to hide his uneasiness over something he doesn’t understand. He finds you attractive, that’s it. He doesn’t know why his mind searches for more answers.

“You don’t have to like someone romantically to be nice to them, you know?” Yoongi responds. “And she needed it. Heavens know the support she’d need now that she has to deal with your rude ass.”

Jungkook sighs, but the remark is a welcome one because he did tell Yoongi not to treat him differently just because he’s the Vice President now. He also partly agrees. But he sees the effort; his friend wouldn’t call him out for how he does things, so the most he would do is offer help to you. And Jungkook could maybe take advantage of that, as Yoongi stands up to leave.

“Hey, could you, uh, grab dinner for her at the food hall? And not say it’s from me?”

“The food hall’s closed,” Yoongi says.

“The cafe down the street, then?”

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the older man groans. 

But Yoongi knows his friend, knows the distance he creates from the people around him, knows his need to have control over everything, including his feelings, and knows the walls he builds because it’s easier to keep others out rather than do the hard task of letting them into a space that’s become comfortable because he’s been the only one inside for so long.

So Yoongi does as he’s asked. He takes the money then heads to the cafe to order pork cutlets and curry. He returns and sets them on your desk to your surprise, and you ask what it’s for.

“Just thought you deserve more than just convenience store instant noodles and gimbap given the day you’ve had,” he says. 

“Hey, those are delicious,” you pout, but wanting to melt at how good the rice bowl smells. “But thank you, again. I owe you a lot, Yoongi. I mean it.”

“Just make sure to eat on time so I don’t have to buy your dinner again,” he teases. “I mean it. You have to stay healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile brightly. “Get home safe tonight.”

Jungkook glances out the window and holds back a smile himself at how innocent and genuinely happy you look. There’s this joy that you seem to enjoy to yourself and he sees that, he understands that. And somehow that’s enough to lessen the guilt for now. 

He still doesn’t know if he’ll ever see that smile directed at him or if he’d ever want that because of how disarming it is. But seeing it from afar is enough; it’s trivial and short enough to let him bask in it without having to climb out of his walls. He’ll watch you from behind, he thinks. He just wishes he doesn’t push you away in the process.

Series Masterlist

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[librarygarten]

#1 Chain x Isekai! Reader - You Play Their Games

Part 1 includes Hyrule, Wind, and Time Part 1 (you are here) ✿ Part 2 ✿ Part 3

When you first met the chain, it had quickly come to everyone’s attention that you already knew them. At first, they thought perhaps you had somehow heard tales of them, passed down through the generations. But you knew things about their adventures they hadn’t told anyone. You knew the names of people and places that surely wouldn’t have survived the thousands of years the stories would have taken to reach you.

You tried your best to explain to them how you knew what you did. Thankfully, you had your Switch, which made explaining what a video game was to them a bit easier.

Hyrule

He wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, it was upsetting. His adventures were being used to entertain people? His Hyrule was a nightmare to live in, with monsters everywhere. When he had defeated Ganon, it had been a huge deal. To find out it was a game for children was a bit insulting if he was being honest.

On the other hand, his… “games” seemed to be your favorite? You had explained to him that his adventures were the first games ever created, and without them, the rest of the franchise wouldn’t exist. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in this fact. He had grown up hearing of the Hero of Legend, and even now, traveling with the group, with Legend, it was impossible not to feel like he had to live up to that legacy. But to hear that without him, the others wouldn’t exist? (At least in your universe their stories would never have been created.) It was like the roles had been reversed. The Hero of Legend. The Hero of Time. All of them had to live up to the legacy that was… Hyrule.

He felt a bit guilty. A bit fascinated. A bit resentful. A bit proud. He wasn’t sure what to think. He decided to watch you play his game. Just for a bit, he told himself. Just to see what had started it all.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“Okay, so, I normally use a guide to help me find the dungeons,” you explained to Hyrule as you booted up a new save file. He was sitting next to you, watching the screen intently. “I’m not sure how far I’ll get without the internet, especially when I have to get through the maze later on.”

Hyrule had no idea what you were talking about. He decided to ignore whatever you just said and instead focus on the game in your hands.

“Is that supposed to be me?” he pointed at the screen, to the mass of pixels in the center vaguely resembling a person wearing a green dress and hat.

“Yeah, sorry. Your games’ graphics aren’t great,” you moved the joystick, making the game Link walk around in a circle. “But that’s just because they’re older. I think my dad was a teenager when this was made.”

There was a moment of silence before you spoke again.

“I miss him.”

Hyrule nodded in understanding. It couldn’t be easy, traveling with the group in a world so unlike your own. How were they going to get you home? Before he could try to comfort you, you turned your attention back to the game, moving the character into a small doorway as you talked.

“He’s the one that first got me into the games. He and I used to play this game on the old NES he had. We even tried to make a map of the different screens so that we would stop getting lost.”

Hyrule closed his eyes, leaning his head against your shoulder as you continued to ramble on about the game. It didn’t sit right with him that his adventure was reduced to entertainment. But you seemed so happy. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad.

Wind

(Pretend his games are on the Switch lol)

He's the least bothered by this. Like, sure, it's a bit weird that his adventures are games, but it's also so cool! It's like you went on his adventure, too! Even though you’ve never met his friends in real life, you seem to show such genuine care about them when playing his game.

He WILL demand to see every Legend of Zelda game you have, not just his own. It lets him experience the rest of the chain's adventures, which he really enjoys. (He likes watching you play Ocarina of Time the most. You have a hunch it has something to do with Wind growing up hearing stories about Time, then being expected to carry on that legacy. Or maybe he just likes to watch you fail at the Water Temple).

Despite his fascination with the others’ games, Wind is also REALLY proud that you like his the most. He had fun on his adventures with Tetra, and he’s glad he gets to share that with you. He’s also glad he can shove it in the others faces that he’s the favorite.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

You giggled as the cutscene played on the screen. Wind, who was sitting next to you, gave you an inquisitive look. He was watching the cutscene too, and didn’t see what was so funny. Upon seeing his face, you laughed even more.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized through giggles, “your facial expressions get me every time.” You gestured to the screen. The game Wind had been placed in a barrel, about to be launched from the pirate boat. His expression changed from wide-eyed terror to a determined glare. “It looks like you went through the five stages of grief in three seconds.”

“I HAD TO ADAPT TO SURVIVE.” Wind puffed out his chest. If he wasn’t a twig-thin pre-teen, it may have made him look manlier.

“I’m sure being yeeted off a boat in a barrel was quite the ordeal. Still doesn’t make your faces any less amusing.” You smiled, playfully poking his cheek. He stuck out his tongue at you.

“I’m sure it’s just the art style of the game.” He rolled his eyes. Surely, his facial expressions couldn’t be that amusing. “Tetra doesn’t look that funny in real life. Neither does Aryll. Everyone on your ‘Switch’ has weird little feet that don’t go with the rest of their body. I wouldn’t trust it to copy my face.”

“Ah, my mistake,” you ruffled his hair. “Surely, no screen can properly capture this adorable visage.”

“HEy!”

“But no, seriously.” you smiled and turned your attention back to the screen, “your funny faces used to crack me up all the time as a kid! Me and my brother tried to copy them, but we could never get them quite right.”

“So, am I your brother’s favorite Link, too?” Wind smirked.

“Hey! I never said you were my favorite. I said your games were my favorite!” You playfully hit his shoulder. “I can’t just choose my favorite of you guys! That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Oh!” Wind cried out and grabbed his chest, “My pride!” He fell over dramatically, as if dying from the grievous injury to his ego. You laughed at the display.

“See, this is what I mean. I don't get this kind of entertainment from the others! Legend’s too grouchy and the captain's worried about messing up his hair.” Wind bolted upright at your comment. Cupping his hands over his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, he yelled across the campsite.

“HEAR THAT LEGEND? Y/N LIKES ME BETTER THAN YOU!”

“SHUT UP! I STILL HAVE MORE GAMES THAN YOU!”

Time

Time is silent the entire time you explain his games. Only two of his adventures seem to have made it to your world. He’s not sure if he should be horrified that his time in Termina is the last story you had of him, or grateful you didn’t see the aftermath of that adventure. (You don’t seem to know much about the Fierce Deity mask besides it “makes boss fights easier”.)

It takes him a while to trust you. He isn't sure how you view the chain now, and he can't risk you thinking they're still a game. There are real stakes. He tries to put you in the back of the group or somewhere you can't possibly mess anything up. Once you prove to him that you genuinely care about the group, though, he relaxes quite a bit. (That's a story for another time tho).

He doesn’t get too worked up over the fact you viewed his adventures as games. He can see how much you care for the chain when interacting with them, so it’s not like you still view them as playthings. From talking to his successors, he’s also grown used to being reduced to a story. He knows that fighting Ganondorf was terrifying, especially considering he was so young when he had to do it. However, to Wind, Twilight, and the others that came after? He was the Hero of Time. The Possessor of the Triforce of Courage. A legendary hero. Not a scared kid.

He watches you play occasionally, usually just a quick glance at the screen when he walks past wherever you were sitting. Wind seemed particularly interested in your device, so you had been showing him almost every game you had. Time mostly seems detached from the events depicted. Maybe it’s how long has passed between his childhood time traveling shenanigans and his present. More likely, he had simply lived through those adventures so many times himself that he couldn’t bring himself to get worked up about watching them again. You couldn’t quite tell.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“Ugh! I hate this stupid dungeon!” you groaned, pressing your face closer to the screen of your Switch. Wind was sprawled out next to you, head resting in your lap as he napped. Clearly, you had been at this for a while. Your frustration had also grabbed Time’s attention, and he made his way over to you.

“Is that the Water Temple?” he asked, sitting down on the other side of you. “I remember that place being a bit tedious to get through.”

“Yeah. I’ve been here for almost an hour. I can never get these platforms in the right order.” You furrowed your eyebrows, trying yet again to complete the stupid puzzle. Time watched you move his teen self around the level, pushing down his discomfort. He was slightly amused at how frustrated you were getting. (He’s still a little brat at heart.)

Finally, he decided to be helpful.

“Here,” he held out his hand, and you gave him the Switch. “It’s really obvious once you see the solution.” Time moved the joysticks gently, guiding his game counterpart around the level. He moved the platforms, solving the puzzle in only a few seconds.

“Oh come on!” You stuck out your tongue at the game, and Time couldn’t help but chuckle. He handed the game back to you, and you continued to play, passing through the last few levels before the final boss fight. Time continued to watch, occasionally offering commentary on the puzzles, although it was more to make fun of you than to help you.

Honestly, both of you lost track of time, and before you realized, the final battle was over. Ganondorf was defeated. As the credits rolled, Time was unusually quiet, and for a moment you thought he had fallen asleep. You glanced over, only to find his eyes glued to the screen.

“May I?” He whispered, holding out both of his hands. You placed the Switch in his hands, and he gingerly held the device as the final cutscene played. On the screen, Navi flew up and away. Time turned the device over and placed it on the ground when the words “Presented by Nintendo” appeared. 

“Time, I’m sorry,” you began, gingerly touching his shoulder. He looked lost in thought.

“Don’t be. I think I needed to see that.” He smiled sadly. “I didn’t really understand it back then. I thought she had just flown away. I didn’t really get to… mourn.”

You wrapped your arms around him, and Time gently accepted the hug. Once he was sure you weren’t going anywhere, Link tightened his arms around you.

[p0orbaby]

a leah x reader blurb where leah has a nightmare, she wakes you, and she’s genuinely upset. you comfort her, when she tells you about it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve heard, you’re struggling not to laugh because leahs genuinely upset.

-

The night is dark, and your room is soaked in the kind of silence that only 3 a.m. can produce. Until, of course, Leah startles you awake. She’s sitting bolt upright, clutching the duvet like it’s the last line of defence in a war. You blink the sleep away, registering the panic in her eyes. She’s not like this often—usually steady and unruffled, even when Arsenal loses, even when the media is chewing on her career like a dog with a bone. So, seeing her like this sets something off in you. Instinct. Worry.

But it’s just as you’re about to ask if she’s alright, if she’s hurt, that she blurts out, “I dreamt I was being chased by a swarm of bees”

A pause, because the stupidity of it lingers in the air like a stubborn fly. She’s gripping your wrist now, like it’s your fault somehow, and you’re doing your best to look concerned—sympathetic even—but your lips twitch involuntarily. She’s genuinely upset, eyes wide, breath coming in shallow little bursts, and all you can think about is how ridiculous it is for a full-grown woman, a defender no less, to be traumatised by a nightmare involving bees. Not even killer bees—just normal, garden-variety buzzing things.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “How many bees, exactly?” you ask, because it seems like the appropriate level of absurd detail that might diffuse the situation.

“All of them,” she says, dead serious. “Trillions”

You picture her, Arsenal captain, England star, sprinting from an exaggerated cloud of cartoonish bees, legs pumping like something out of an old Looney Tunes episode. It’s the kind of mental image that’s almost too much to bear, and you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting into laughter. She’s still gripping your wrist, holding on for dear life, and it’s genuinely endearing in a strange way. You haven’t seen her like this since she got that dodgy pre-season haircut, and even then, she was half-laughing at herself.

“You know they’re not real, right?” you say, keeping your voice gentle but there’s a hint of a smirk curling your lips despite your best efforts.

“I know,” she huffs, flopping back against the pillows in exasperation. “It’s just… They were everywhere, and I couldn’t get away. They had this horrible, droning sound…” She trails off, her hand finding its way to your arm again, her fingers curling against your skin. There’s a brief silence where you can’t decide whether to laugh or apologise for the universe’s cruelty in allowing such an absurd nightmare to exist.

“It’s probably karma,” you say after a moment, because if there’s one thing you’ve learned from years of being with Leah, it’s that she appreciates brutal honesty, even in the wee hours of the morning. “You did laugh at that poor bloke at the pub last week. The one who swallowed the wasp that died in his pint”

You feel her glare more than you see it. But then, finally, a begrudging smile breaks through, and she exhales a shaky laugh that tells you the worst of it’s over. She’s fine, really. Just had a bit of a fright. She leans against you, her forehead resting on your shoulder, and you can feel her settling, breathing slower.

“Honestly,” you murmur, running a hand through her hair, “if a swarm of bees is all it takes to scare you, I think the rest of us are in trouble”

She pinches your side in retaliation, but it’s more affectionate than anything else. You press a kiss to her temple, and somehow, without even trying, you’ve turned her nightmare into a joke the two of you will recycle for weeks.

[angelic-ambedo]

The Weirdest Fucking Movies I've Ever seen Pt. 1

Okay so I sort of champion myself as a lover of weird movies. And it's funny because regardless of how many I've seen, every time I watch a weird movie I genuinely feel as if it is the weirdest movie I've ever seen in my life.

So, I decided to make a list which compiles all of said weird movies and then a description of why I find each so uniquely weird. If you find any of these descriptions or titles intriguing, I recommend you seek these movies out, because a weird movie = a good life ya know so yeah

If you have more weird movies please please recommend them im hungry for new crazy cinema bebesssss

Eraserhead (1977) - genuinely makes no sense.

Coherence (2013) - trippy scientifically interesting thriller

Some Velvet Morning (2013) - abusive cat n mouse relationship

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) - emotional violence

Greener Grass (2019) - let's shame suburbia!

Trash Humpers (2009) - people fucking the trash...?

Julien Donkey-Boy (1999) - mental illness be so sad and trippy

Gummo (1997) - literal photo album of a dysfunctional town

Slaughtered Vomit Dolls (2006) - bulimia PSA in disguise

Black Bear (2020) - art seeps into the "real" world

Begotten (1990) - god kills himself

Trouble Every Day (2001) - eating people presented as...a turn on?

Baise-Moi (2000) - punk feminist murderous women are sick and society sux

Palindromes (2004) - one character is played by a ton of different actors of different ages, races, and sexes

964 Pinocchio (1991) - so much vomit, even more cyberpunk lobotomy sex machine madness

Meet the Feebles (1989) - the muppets give each other STDs and commit mass murder

In the Realm of the Senses (1976) - a torrid, pornographic affair used to escape the horrors of a war-torn world

Enter the Void (2009) - going to the past, present, and future, POV shots that include blinking, going inside the body, taboo themes with a psychedelic style

Love (2015) - horny pseudo-porno about a misogynistic asshole who somehow pulls hot, sexually adventurous women

Climax (2018) - LSD fueled nightmare

Pink Flamingos (1972) - a competition to be the "filthiest person alive" (spoiler alert: the cool drag queen wins)

Vivarium (2019) - Suburbia is still creepy, guys

Be My Cat: A Film for Anne (2015) - can we please stop having erotomania like celebrities aren't into u babe :(

No No Nooky TV (1987) - Computers being cool and saying "boobs" and "clit"

The Piano Teacher (2001) - unsafe nonconsensual bdsm and sexual repression is...no. please no.

The Night Porter (1974) - stockholm syndrome and wild bdsm stuff with postwar themes

Belle de Jour (1967) - more bdsm themes

Titane (2021) - woman fucks a car and gets pregnant

Daisies (1966) - two girls cut up pickles and destroy the patriarchy

Creep 1 and 2 (2014, 2017) - murder has never been this funny

Garbanzo Gas (2007) - a human cow gets an all-expenses paid trip to a motel before it hits the slaughterhouse

Melancholie der Engel (2009) - ew.

In Our Garden (2002) - old men dicks + weirdest dialogue I've ever heard in my life

The Rehearsal (TV series) (2022) - this is the ultimate weirdest thing ever and I don't know how else to categorize it.

Trigger Warnings (all of these movies are weird/fucked up but some of them contain actual fucked up stuff that like. happened in real life. so below are the triggers for that kind of stuff. All of these films are genuine films, not the gore stuff the internet produces, but some of them because of the country/time period/transgressiveness include content that is inappropriate and/or ethically unacceptable, so I've included those movies below)

Baise-Moi - unsimulated sex scenes which includes SA scenes that actors consented to but characters did not. this proves a feminist point but is still incredibly upsetting and stayed with me for a while as there are close ups and its awful.

In the Realm of the Senses - Please look into this one more before you watch it, I'm not going to describe things in detail because it makes me so uncomfortable but there are some scenes that involve young actors that should not ethically have been in the situations they were put in. The movie is exceptionally well made and from what I know globally respected so I don't know why they had to ruin it for me but whatever.

Pink Flamingos - One infamous scene involves an actual chicken death. It was the early 70s (long time ago and no PETA) and they apparently ate the chicken afterward, so I felt less immoral about this one but still gross.

Melancholie der Engel - okay please genuinely never watch this movie unless you're super into traumatizing yourself and are very desensitized I guess. There's a ton of actual animal abuse in very very graphic/unnecessarily disturbing shock type situations. There's other bad unsimulated stuff but this is the worst of it from what I know.

Love and Meet the Feebles contain scenes that are transphobic and/or racist, which is gross. Slaughtered Vomit Dolls was made by a very bad person. A bunch of the movies also have unsimulated sex stuff, I don't know if that makes anyone uncomfortable but if it does I'm just putting it out there.

[devils-little-sista]

Nico is the definition of “strict parents/teachers/authority figures only make sneaky kids/teenagers”. Nico is a teenage degenerate. He’s finally living his best life without the worry of being cruelly punished.

Nico has complete disregard for the camp rules. (And rules overall in general). He does whatever he wants whenever he wants. Part of it is because he doesn’t really consider himself to be a camper because he never truly feels like he belongs there. Part of it is because camp halfblood has the cushiest and weakest punishments compared to every other school he’s ever been to. (1930s Italian military school was the harshest and Westover wasn’t all that nice either).

Genuinely he does not care about getting caught. And when he does get caught it’s no big deal. He’s great at lying on the fly and coming up with actual good believable cover stories because of his upbringing. He’s used to having to lie to authority figures for his own and Bianca’s safety. He usually gets away with stuff. But even when he doesn’t it’s no big deal.

Oh he has to scoop poop out of the Pegasus stables because he was caught hanging out outside after curfew? No problem, scooping poop is a walk in the park compared to the punishments dealt to him in childhood for lesser defiances. He’ll just make the skeletons scoop the poop anyway.

Oh he doesn’t get any desert and has to wash the dishes because he sat at his friends table at dinner instead of the Hades table? No problem, the dishes aren’t that bad and he could make the skeletons do it anyway.

Even if he has to do it himself with Chiron there watching him that’s still not that bad of a punishment compared to the literal physical and psychological torture he got for punishment as a kid.

Also back in that day nobody knew the dangers of drinking and smoking so Nico probably has a very normalized view on it and possibly drinks and smokes on occasion. (It wasn’t discovered until the 1960s that that stuff could be dangerous). Probably a lot of adults around him as a kid smoked and drank a good bit all the time and Nico just grew up thinking that was always normal. He grew up in the age where parents were giving their kids spoonfuls Brandy (alcohol) when they were sick to make them sleep. And Nico’s generation of kids grew up to give their own kids brandy when they’re sick and just told them it was cough medicine.

Nico has been caught stealing from Dionysus’s cellar several times. He claims the stuff helps him sleep it makes the nightmares seem less real (it kinda does at first but he eventually build up a tolerance and keeps stealing it but he won’t ever tell anyone that). He’s also been caught stuff that is clearly not from Dionysus’s cellar nobody knows how he got it (walks into any store with alcohol discretely slips a couple bottles into his giant jacket pockets and walks out all smooth and calm like.

(Shoplifts a bunch of other stuff too he’s never been caught lifting stuff from stores).

He somehow scores several packs of cigarettes every time he goes to the mortal world. Nobody knows how he’s getting them. (He’s using his dream powers to put the clerks to sleep and unlocking the thing himself and grabbing a whole bunch to shove in his jacket pockets and dips.)

Nico is giving himself eyebrow and lip piercings with sewing needles and ice. Nico is getting tattoos and drawing with markers all over his body until he can get said tattoos. He is swearing like a sailor (as long as there aren’t any adults or small children around). He’s a great actor. That “polite and distinguished gentleman” act that he was taught growing up? 99% of it is just an act.

He’s a classic teenage dirtbag and I wish more people would acknowledge that.

[spacebarbarianweird]

Kid falls asleep somewhere and the caretaker finds them, bringing them to their bed

This is probably one of my favorite childhood memories ��❤️

Synopsis: Astarion is carrying his daughter to bed for the last time in her life.

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, fluff

This is the fluffiest thing I ever written. And since you all like reading about Astarion's daughter's future - I've written the whole part with adult Alethaine POV as she takes care of her own child centuries later.

Alethaine's age (1st part) - 17-years-old

Alethaine's age (2nd part) - 316-years-old

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion is drunk with blood and night. His body is warm but his head is dizzy with happiness. Here, deep in the woods of the Unicorn Run, he can be truly himself.

A predator. A hunter.

A vampire.

He is free. He is fast. He is dangerous. Animal blood satiates him and he feels like the shadows of the past are leaving him.

There are still nightmares. Sorrows. Sometimes he is so angry he smashes things against the wall or tries to tear at his hair. 

But it doesn’t mean anything, after all. It all ended. For good. 

He will never be hungry again. He will never be tortured. Or forced to sleep with strangers. No more pain, no more misery, no more rapes.

He has a home. He has a family. He even has friends who pretend they don’t know he is a vampire. 

He has everything, and no one will take it from him.

Astarion comes back slowly, enjoying every step he makes with his bare feet. His ears twitch in anticipation – he knows he is being waited for at home. Tiriel will welcome him with her genuine smile, asking how his night walk was. Alethaine, their daughter, is probably somewhere else – she is seventeen and Astarion knows she has her own life right now, and he will know details of it only if she decides to tell.

Though, there is one problem.

Somehow Alethaine isn’t interested in relationships. Neither girls nor boys. Once she admitted to him she just didn’t get what all this fuss was about and the only person in the whole town who tried to ask her for a date ended up with a broken hand. Astarion refused to punish Alethaine for violence (“It’s your son’s problem if he can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, not mine.”), but it surprises him how little someone could care about love, relationships, and sex. 

Alethaine read the Necromancy of Thay at fifteen and she understands it much better than he ever will, but boys and girls? Absolutely unknown and weird.

Astarion decides to take a long path to the underground part of the town to enjoy the surface at least a little bit more. It takes him to the town’s cemetery – its old part almost forgotten by humans and halflings whose lifespan is so short that elves and dwarves don’t have enough time to get used to them.

And then he sees a familiar black leather bag with books.

He turns left and sees Alethaine curled on someone’s century-old grave.

It seems like she was reading and then decided to take a nap putting the book aside. Astarion picks the book up. Dragons, wyrms and drakes. The study. Probably one of the books she got from a traveling merchant a month ago. Astarion remembers how she came home with a huge pile of volumes proudly saying that she’s spent all the money she earned by working in the tavern and fortune-telling. 

1000 Poisons and Antidotes, A Field Guide To Fey, Thirty Ways To Skin a Dragon, Myth and Legends of Calimshan and also a few books in Infernal she got to “practice”.There was something else but Astarion doesn’t remember. 

Astarion reaches out for her shoulder to wake her up but then stops. There is something so precious and unreal he can’t take his eyes off Alethaine. 

She is beautiful. People say she looks like him, but he can’t be sure. Pale skin, elven ears, hair as silver as the moonlight. She is delicate like a fey and looks as fragile as a porcelain doll.

Astarion concentrates and hears her heartbeat. 

So alive. So real. So precious.

In moments like this, he can’t believe she is his child. When she was a baby, he mostly adored how cute she was. But now— 

It’s probably the first time Astarion realizes his daughter is almost an adult.

She is a beautiful and smart woman, her very own person, so different from both him and Tiriel. Damn, Tiriel is often asked what crypt she found her daughter in!

Astarion smiles looking at his baby – she will always be a baby to him. No matter how many centuries will pass, he will never forget a tiny dhampir who constantly cried to get his attention. And whom he carried to bed if she fell asleep playing with her dolls.

Astarion feels an itchy sensation on his skin. The sunrise. 

When exactly was the last time he carried his daughter in his hands?

Astarion takes the book on dragons, puts it in the bag, and then lifts Alethaine up.

She grunts something but doesn’t wake up.

“Come on, let’s return home. Days are merciless and cruel for the creatures of the night,” he chuckles.

Alethaine feels almost weightless in his arms as he returns to the underground part of Daggrerlake. Soon Alethaine will leave them, he knows that. She is already preparing to become an adventurer, though he suspects she will spend another year under their roof. Seventeen years is such a short amount of time. 

But it’s her whole life.

Tiriel welcomes them in the yard and chuckles, seeing Alethaine fast asleep in his arms.

“Oh, I thought she was way too adult for that,” she smiles, opening the door. “Where was she?”

“The old graveyard.”

“Well, her favorite place in the town,” she whispers. “Right after the tavern where she frauds travelers with her fortune telling.”

Alethaine lacks any fortune-telling abilities except for good intuition. But strangers who stay at the inn owned by a family of dwarves don’t know that. They just see a very pale and mysterious-looking elf who is advertised to them as a witch. 

Once, a fighter who Alethaine told he would get a wife soon, returned to her angry and pissed because his attempt to matchmake a princess ended up with him being whipped in a town square. It’s probably the only time Astarion had to show up in the tavern during Alethaine’s shift. When he got there, Alethaine was crying and the fighter was threatening her with every awful thing a man can do to a young girl.

The fighter was deliciously scared when a vampire threw him against the wall and broke his dominant hand. Alethaine then told Astarion, no, she wasn’t crying, no she wasn’t afraid of that dumbass, she just got offended by all those mean words he told her.

But Astarion knew she was scared. She was scared like any girl her age after being threatened by a much larger and older man. The fighter begged Astarion to forgive him and he threw the moron at Alethaine’s legs, forcing him to beg her and, if she accepted his apologies, he would let him go. 

Alethaine didn’t forgive him (maybe she was just paralyzed with shock and fear) and that night Astarion dined on his blood. Besides, if the man could approach someone that young and casually tell her he was going to assault her, it probably meant he’d already done it to someone else. Or would in the next village.

Astarion puts Alethaine to her bed. He bitterly smiles, noting that there is no plushie toy or doll anymore that she liked so much barely a few years ago – only books, candles, and animal skulls she collects in the woods.

He also bitterly remembers that, in the very recent past, he could easily help her change clothes into the night dress. But this thing is forever out of reach for him. So, he just puts her boots off and places them in front of the bed.

“Sleep well, princess,” he murmurs, leaving the room.

“Heavy-sleeper!” Tiriel jokes standing in the inner yard. She cuts the wood for the fireplace and Astarion adores the sight of her wielding the ax.

“She is,” Astarion looks away.

She is seventeen. She will soon leave their home. She will live for centuries – and her childhood will be such a minor part of her life that it makes Astarion upset. He cherished every single day since she was born: her first step, her first word, the first time she saw the snow, the first time she went somewhere alone (she was five and Tiriel sent her to pick up herbs from the healer). The first book she read by herself. The first letter she wrote.

And now, there are also the last things.

The last time she slept in her parents’ bed – he remembers how she took her pillow and left them to return to her room. The last time he bathed her – and she looked so innocent and cute in the wooden tub full of soapy water. The last time he read her a book – it was a novel about unicorns and fey. He expected she would bring another one to read the next day, but, instead, he found Alethaine reading by herself. 

The last time he played dolls with her. The last time Tiriel brushed her long hair. The last time they played hide-and-seek in the woods. The last snowball fight.

All these things didn’t seem like the last when they did it, but they became one.

And Astarion knows that the fact he carried Alethaine to bed this day was a miracle. He will never do this ever again.

“Astarion, my love, what happened?” Tiriel’s fingers play with his hair. “Don’t tell me everything's right, I see you are upset!”

“Alethaine grew up too fast,” he admitted. “It’s not fair that elves live so long and yet their childhood is just slightly longer than humans.”

“I know, love. But she is an adult – and we need to see her like one, unless she wants to be occasionally treated like a child.”

Astarion places his head on Tiriel’s shoulder.

“I just… Damn… We both were children. Your childhood was hell and your mother was a bitch, but I don’t remember mine. You know, I just thought—” Astarion would sigh if he breathed. “There was a moment when I was carried to bed for the last time, too. And I can’t even remember who did it.”

Tiriel kisses his forehead — it’s a motherly gesture, not a lover’s one.

And then Astarion suddenly finds himself in Tiriel’s arms ‘bridal style’.

“Tiriel, put me back!”

“Why would I?” she laughs, holding him as if he were a young boy.

“I sometimes forget how strong you are,” he mutters, hoping no one sees them.

“It’s just your hollow elven bones. Though, I can lift human males up too!”

“I hope you don’t do this often because, otherwise, I will start getting possessive!”

“Or throw them in the mud after, don’t worry,” Tiriel kisses him, still holding Astarion as if he were weightless. 

“Ok, then, now you need to carry me to bed,” he pouts.

“I will gladly do that. And then, you will tell me how you want me to love you.”

“I will think on the way to the bedroom, my love.”

They both burst out in laughter.

**

A drake the size of a cat sneezes and burns the dandelions. Then, it looks up at Alethaine with guilt as if apologizing. 

“And can I ask where your owner is?” Alethaine murmurs. 

The drake sneezes again. Aurix – gold in Draconic – demonstrates its tummy to the dhampir and stretches like a kitten.

Alethaine takes a few more steps and finds herself in a beautiful green field full of grass and flowers. The wind makes waves on its surface and Alethaine feels that the night is slowly approaching.

A red-haired elf lies in the grass. Her red hair is messy – she’s been hunting the whole day. Her bow lies at her side. The freckled face is a bit suntanned and her ears twitch a bit as their owner wanders in her reverie.

“Tiri,” Alethaine leans to her sixteen-year-old daughter. “Let’s go home, dad worries you got lost.”

Tiri mutters something incomprehensible. She is young and her reverie is deep. As someone with very few memories to re-live, Tiriel Goldernoot, the only daughter of King Elren and his “witch-queen” Alethaine, probably sees only glimpses of her past lives mixed with human-like dreams.

Besides, her grandmother and namesake was half-human. So, Tiri’s dreams are much more vivid.

“Tiri, get up. If you don't, I will carry you myself.”

“It’s a manipulation, mum.”

“It is, so I see you are awake. Get up.” 

Tiri sits up, numb and dizzy after a reverie and she looks like someone beaten with a bag of sand. Alethaine helps her daughter to stand up and the drake immediately sits on her shoulder.

“Tired?” Alethaine asks.

“Ughm. I’ve been to Corellon’s grove.”

The biggest temple on the isle was ten miles away from Leuthilspar – the capital and Alethaine’s new home – no wonder the girl was so tired.

“I didn’t get inside, I just wanted to see the place from the hills.”

“Come on,” Alethaine takes her daughter’s hand and takes her home. 

“Mum,” she tells her, and Alethaine feels her daughter’s embarrassment. “May I ask— Though no, don’t bother, it’s stupid.”

“You want me to carry you?”

Tiri blushes and nods. They are the same height, mother and daughter, but Tiri is far from being a dhampir, and Alethaine can carry much heavier things than a young High Elf ranger. 

“But as long as no one sees us!” Tiri quickly adds.

“Don’t worry, no one will,” Alethaine promises and lifts her daughter up.

They walk like that for almost an hour. Tiri is exhausted and barely talks and Alethaine enjoys her loud heartbeat and deep breathing. When Tiri was born, Aletaine was suspiciously looking at the newborn baby. Was she a dhampir like her? Did the quote of vampiric blood affect her? Did Alethaine’s obsession with dark arts and demonic studies somehow hurt the child?

And then she remembers the realization. Tiri is as normal as possible. Just an elf. She wouldn’t grow fangs, she wouldn’t want blood, she wouldn’t accidentally reanimate a dead kitten and the druidic circles would never harm her. That moment Alethaine grabbed the newborn girl from her cradle, she came straight to Elren who was meditating in one of the many gardens of the elven castle and pushed Tiri into his arms. “Look at her!” Alethaine laughed as her half-asleep Thiramin was trying to realize what was going on. “She isn’t a creature of the night! The dark magic didn’t hurt her! She is normal! Like you!”

Alethaine catches the scent of other elves and puts Tiri on the ground. Now they walk through the streets like mother and daughter. Even though elves have different ideas of nobility and social structure than humans, Alethaine is still married to the king and she senses respect and fear from other elves (besides, they all know if it wasn't for her none of them would have made it alive after the demons had taken a hold on Faerun).

They needed the dark witch to deal with demons because druids don’t know what real darkness is.

“Hungry?” Alethaine asks.

“Like a vampire.”

“Interesting choice of words, Little Fire,'' Elren says sitting on the floor with yet another book about the ancient history of elves. Elren couldn’t care less about his status (“I’ve never asked to be crowned.”) and usually behaves as if he were still a ranger in the High Forest.

Tiri proceeds to tell her father how she marched through the hills, how Aurix almost ate a fey, and how she didn’t lose a single arrow while hunting birds. And then, she also saw portals to the Feywild but didn’t dare to approach them.

Alethaine walks up to the ceiling and stretches her arms – night is calling her. But she also feels the storm coming and decides she won’t leave the warm walls of the elven castle tonight.

When Tiri goes away to have dinner, Elren stands right below Alethaine. He is way taller than elves usually are and sometimes Alethaine feels very small in his presence. 

His hair is almost as long as Alethaine’s, but it has a golden shade. His eyes are light-blue and he wears intricate ear-cuffs as his only jewelry.

Elren reaches to rub her ear and Alethaine smiles like a content cat.

They met eighteen years ago, almost yesterday considering they are both older than three centuries. Alethaine hates all these sentimental and “star-crossing” things but, to be honest, she fell for the ranger elf the moment he showed up in her witch hut asking her to help him deal with the demons in the High Wood. Probably, the funniest thing for Alethaine is that Elren is so lawful, good, brave, kind, and generous, and is so much to her father’s liking he threatens to turn inside out anyone who wants to harm Elren.

Alethaine smiles, remembering their first encounter – Elren was captured by Drows and held in their torture chambers for a few weeks. Astarion got him out from there and by the time Aletaine found their small camp in the Underdark her father and husband-to-be were sharing stories of their adventures and laughing at the dumb Drows who didn’t expect a vampire to ambush them. 

Maybe Astarion saw Elren as a part of the world he once belonged to. Maybe, he just cared about him because Alethaine did. Maybe Astarion, despite his cynicism, still adores and respects people like Elren because they can do things he can’t. 

Besides, Alethaine knows her father fell for her mother. And Elren has a lot in common with his long-deceased mother-in-law. The same heroism. The same faith in the best. The same belief that says you should always negotiate first, but there is often a greater evil you should fight. 

“Elren, salen thiramin” Alethaine whispers.

“What?”

“Watch out.”

Alethaine relaxes her legs and falls from the ceiling right into her husband’s arms. 

“You know, one day I won’t be able to catch you, my queen!”

“Nonsense, my king, I trust you with my half-dead heart.”

They burst into laughter and their voices echo through the sun-lit rooms.

--

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[rifualk]

On Mental Health and Cosmic Embarrassment

I don't usually make a post in the aftermath of one of my spirals, so I bet most people see some of the vent posts I make, and assume I am just off my meds or something. I am on them but I might not be on the right ones. This is a thing that happens to me sometimes. I have psychotic episodes, where it feels like the things I am saying are completely inconsequential and I genuinely believe no one cares what I'm saying or, worst of all, that it cannot scare anyone that cares about me. I get too tired to fight my intrusive thoughts and I just ride them out. Most of my thoughts are not ones I enjoy having. I have trouble parsing what is real sometimes. For most of my life, out of a kind of primal shame and terror of being perceived or judged, I beat myself into believing that I just roleplayed as a crazy person online because I wanted attention for it, but it finally clicked for me at some point in my 20s that I was, and am, genuinely very mentally ill, maybe in ways that make me not-entirely-functional in the culture I inhabit. Also, I want attention for it.

Life is very embarrassing. I think embarrassment, shame, et al. is probably the most cosmic feeling of them all, because being embarrassed, for me anyway, leads invariably to my OCD extrapolating the embarrassment, no matter how slight, into its natural extreme, becoming a full-blown existential meltdown and often manifesting in some self-punishment. Or a lot of self-punishment. Instead of saying "everyone wants attention, it's not a big deal", my brain will overwhelm me with shame and make me vow to be quieter about the whole thing next time. Good emotions are meant to be expressed, I tell myself, and Bad ones are not. I think it's very unhealthy for people to not express their negative emotions openly. Or maybe I'm psychotic. I mean, I am psychotic. But maybe right now, too.

Ultimately this feeling peaks with the realization - again - that I'm a eukaryote. I live on a spinning ball of stardust in the aftermath of what had to have been a colossal disaster and waste of time. But it happened, and so now there's a bunch of stuff floating around, and some of that stuff started moving for reasons I don't personally understand and the implications of which scare me. And the moving stuff that moved faster got to stay moving longer. And so a chain reaction escalated, and eventually there were very large moving things whose survival adaptations had evolved in such a way that they could conceptualize and communicate complex information about the world around them, but they were also able to conceptualize themselves. This gave them a lot of grief. They wanted very badly for there to be an answer to why they were able to do that. Surely it served some purpose. But we never found one, and here we are.

I don't have a god to turn to. I have tried - earnestly, sincerely, and desperately - to reach out; I never hear back. I don't want to be an atheist, it's heartbreaking. Honestly. I want someone to be up there, or out there. Knowing there isn't, is just... cruel. It's horrifying and it wrenches my heart. Look at us, look how much we're suffering, where the fuck did you go, what the fuck is your problem? Help us!

In spite of everything, I am still not sure what I believe.

Don't you ever just cry about the world? Like, broadly? Don't you ever just have to take off your glasses and wipe the brine from them because you caught a glimpse of what people, as a species, could be capable of? And I get angry at myself, too. What am I doing about it? What even can I do? I can barely hold down a job. I am barely an adult. I am often mired in this feeling. It permeates everything. I'm living in a tragedy - not just my own, but millions and millions of others'. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare and I'm an embarrassment, and my brain doesn't work right, and I'm living in a terrible reality that is shared by everyone, and yet somehow equally isolating and alienating to all of us. Does it have to be that way? Aren't we all lonely?

When I am spiraling I really do think that the end is near, either for me, or for everyone, or for both. To be fair, my confidence about humanity's future is not promising even when I am at my most sane. But in this kind of emotional place, the stakes are too high for me to care that what I say might come off as upsetting. It is completely overwhelming. I see my life up to this point, and I see how long I've been alive and realize I'm very Not Normal and I look and sound different than everyone around me and I'm an embarrassment. It's embarrassing to exist. It's embarrassing to be transgender, too. It's really, really embarrassing to be mentally ill and fully aware of it all the time. It's shameful. I am ashamed of how my family likely sees me. How my peers see me. I'm just a walking disaster. I feel like this bars me from leading a happy life or finding some success in art - It doesn't seem like you're allowed to be quite this much of a problem and "get away with it", does it? There's a bit of social sanitizing at work there - you are only allowed to be a certain level of messed up and if you pass that you're sort of a pariah. I don't think I've ever done anything pariah-worthy, but I can only see things from the inside of my own head, and there's a lot of unwanted noise in here.

I painted this when I lived in Oregon. I don't know how. I could not do art like this again if asked.

I'm not in a good place, generally-speaking. It could be worse - and it was for a long time- but it's still just not great. The main reason is that I am very homesick. I grew attached to the Pacific Northwest in a way I've never really grown attached to any other place. It had a quality that exists nowhere else. It resonated with me immediately and I knew right away from the moment I first set foot there that it was my home. I grew to be a part of it, and it's the only place I felt I somewhat-belonged... I have been away from Oregon for 2 whole years as of next month. I feel like I'm a fish out of water, or a sapling in the wrong soil. I can't and won't say that the place I live currently is a bad place, but it isn't my place, and the disconnect has been maybe the nastiest shock to my system in all my life. Finding the place I loved, and living for over 12 years there, only to be wrenched away from it so suddenly, left a shock on me that I think has yet to surface in my work. I'm excited to see what form it takes when it does. Location is very important to my mental wellbeing, more than I think it is for most people. Maybe I am a plant. It's also very important for my art. I've struggled to find inspiration since I moved here. That said, I've had the very precious opportunity to just work on myself - on my transition, as well as my personal issues. I think I'm getting better, gradually, in some way. I have a job now, at least. So it's not entirely bad. I even grew sunflowers last summer.

Around this time I got banned from twitter, but I don't feel any shame about the reason why because I believe in my message. But it forced me to be a lot less active online for a long time. It also made me lose a lot of support. That's been something I've grappled with a lot these last 2 years - that people really don't like people like me, for reasons that are mostly not our fault. I will likely always be something of an outsider for being who I am now, but I was one before anyway. It's still worth it. I like the person I'm becoming. I feel like only recently did I allow myself to feel this self-love. I was too embarrassed of myself. It took a lot of patience and a lot of de-tangling my self-worth from a lot of trauma. So it's likely I would have needed to go through all of this regardless of where I was.

I still slip up. It's an uphill climb and it's slippery. I like to be transparent about these things. It's a relief - feeling like I need to hide things is my default state and it's lovely to just let go of stuff so I don't need to keep it in my head all the time. I have a lot of hangups still. I get discouraged about my art still - I fear I'll never build myself back up to where I was before, and that there will never be a time when I can really pay the bills with it. Or worse-still, that it just isn't special enough to last. That it isn't remarkable enough to survive after I'm gone. But I think a lot of people who make stuff feel that way, and it's not our fault. There's some relief in that. I'm happy to have even a few people that care about me and my work, and something I've been trying really hard to remember in recent years is to take time to appreciate them. I'm not actually alone. I have a lot of people that love me. I'm not an outsider. I'm very lucky to know the people I do, and I hold a deep regret for all the connections I've let go of because I was just too sick. Deep down I really do wish I could love everyone. I have no ill will towards anyone, not really.

I still don't know what I'm doing. I am just doing my best, I think. I'm really, really tired. I don't want to get any older. I'm scared of the passage of time. My memory is so bad, it feels like time is taken from me without me realizing. I am 33 years old. I do not have 33 years worth of memories. There are huge leaps. Gaps where suddenly I was just older and in more pain. Being adrift in time like this is horrific - one day I will blink, and the present moment may be completely forgotten. It can't go this fast. It just can't. Something has to be wrong. I don't want to die, I don't want to miss out on so much life or be unable to remember it. I don't want to find myself on my deathbed someday way sooner than I think and be unable to string together any kind of coherent thread from my memories. What is it all for? It has to mean something right? Why am I doing anything?

I think I finally understand that love is why. I don't know much more than that. Love is real, and it's the answer. If you find love, don't take it for granted, ever. No love is perfect. Take it with all its flaws. You don't have time to bargain with it. Love like you'll never love again, love like it's your last day alive, love like it will keep you alive forever, because it will. Every year closer to death you get, you will feel the regret of all the times you did not follow your heart. Life is short. I'm finding this out entirely too late. It goes by so fast, and what you have at the end are people and memories of being loved. To be loved is to live forever. It's the thing that connects us to everything else. It's the source and the answer to everything. It makes more sense the older I get. It used to sound cheesy, but I believe it with more sincerity every day.

I'll be okay, okay

I once promised someone that I would stop self-harming. They are no longer in my life, but I kept the promise anyway. There are no new scars on my arms, or bruises on my head or face. I'm keeping this promise for myself, now.

[buglord-isaac]

Some momentary GhostSoap Softness

The debriefing with Alejandro about their mission to take back their base had just finished, but Johnny was going to be surprised if he remembered any of it. The only thing currently taking up his entire mind was the fact that Ghost had shown his face. Not just to Johnny, but to everyone in the room.

When that skull mask was off, neither Ghost nor Johnny were able to keep their eyes off each other. Ghost had been staring at him, probably waiting for an expression of disgust. When Johnny got past the initial surprise of what was unfolding before him, he had only a few seconds to take his face in.

He was covered in scars. An unholy amount of them. Many around areas that would be beaten. Jaw. Lips. Nose. Eyebrows. He had a large scar trailing up his cheek and cutting through his lips. Some of his hair appeared to be missing too from scars on his head, but most of it was still there, and it looked disheveled and oily from being in that mask so long.

When he put the lighter balaclava on, Johnny blinked a few times and looked down at the mask in his own hand. What he had just seen felt like a daydream. It didn’t feel real. When Alejandro dismissed the team, Ghost team, Johnny found himself frozen in place. It was too much for his brain to process.

After a few seconds, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked to the side and saw Ghost beside him. His eyes bore into his soul.

“Let’s have a chat, shall we?”

Johnny nodded and followed him to a more secluded area of the base. This was the first real time that they had to relax, to de-stress since being hunted by Shadows. Johnny’s arm was aching, stinging, burning. But it was bandaged up. Johnny leaned against the wall and looked up at Ghost, who seemed tense still.

“Thank you, Ghost.”

“For?”

“For?? For guiding me through a city, for saving my life, for all that shite… if it weren’t for you I’d be a goner…”

“We saved each other, Johnny. Not even I could’ve handled all those shadows alone.”

“And you nearly bet against me~”

Ghost said nothing to the snarky comment. He was looking down at Johnny with searching eyes.

“What did you think? Am I ugly?”

He asked the question so forwardly but somehow Johnny knew it was a genuine question. He looked into his chocolate eyes and shook his head.

“Not in the slightest, Simon.”

Ghost seemed slightly surprised about the use of his first name, but the surprise ended quickly. His hands reached up to the mask again.

“I took it off as a necessity to put this mask on… but I want you to see me.”

Once again the mask was removed. Now that it was just them, the tension in their direct eye contact was insane.

“I see you, Simon. It wasn’t just a dream.”

“A dream… funny. If anything, I’m a nightmare.”

“Lucky I don’t get scared of nightmares.”

Ghost moved closer, pulling something out of his pocket. A small twist top palette of black greasepaint. He unscrewed it and dipped two of his fingers into it.

“You need to survive this mission, Johnny.” His voice was quiet. He reached up and started applying the greasepaint around Johnny’s eyes. Johnny‘s heart was beating in his throat at the closeness, the trust that Ghost so clearly had in him making him giddy.

“I will, Ghost.”

“You need to. For me.”

Johnny nodded, let Ghost finish the application of paint on his face, then watched as he put his own mask back on and left with clenched fists. Only then did he let out the breath he had been unknowingly holding.

[rayshippouuchiha]

I have a JJK x Naruto Crossover I think you'd like

So it's in the Naruto world, but curses and cursed energy exist as a separate thing from chakra. Jujutsu schools are scattered across the Nations, working together to keep the curses from destroying the world.

Shinobi and sorcerers really do not like each other. The shinobi hate how uncertain they are of the sorcerers loyalty as sorcerers consider themselves to be loyal to each other rather than any of the countries they are in. They often refuse to let sorcerers into the villages. The only reason they haven't all been killed is because although chackra can't kill a curse they can see them and seal them like bijuu. Sorcerers hate shinobi because while they're sacrificing their lives to protect the world the shinobi are actively creating more curses with their warfare and preventing the sorcerers from killing the curses in the villages. Also shinobi sometimes use sealed curses as weapons, which is stupid and bad.

Sidenote real fast, Hoshigaki Kisame isn't part of the Akatsuki here because Gojo was like, "hmm. I need a teacher to teach my students shinobi things so they don't get assassinated. I think this weird shark guy would be great!" So Kisame is living his best life getting to be a nice, loyal guy and is one of the only shinobi that sorcerers tolerate.

The main plot of this AU is related to the bijuu. You know how in Naruto the bijuu have the ability to sense malice and sometimes go out of their way to kill evil humans? Well in this AU what they are actually sensing is cursed energy and their job is to disperse large build ups of cursed energy to keep the formation of cursed spirits down. They are deeply venerated and respected by sorcerers for this. So guess who was absolutely furious when the shinobi started sealing them?

The only reason the sorcerers haven't gone to war over the whole thing is because without the bijuu, they're being stretched thinner and thinner as they try to keep the cursed spirit population down. Death rates among sorcerers have easily doubled or tripled, as, even if there's still very few special grades, there's just so many of the weaker ones.

This whole thing makes Geto even worse than in canon.

So in the midst of all this tension, Team Seven runs into Gojo's first year students on some kind of mission involving missing nin creating curses on purpose. Between Naruto's naruto-ness and Itadori's friendliness, they actually manage to work together and are a little friendly by the end of it.

And then it somehow comes out that Naruto is the ninetales jinchuuriki and the jjk kids lose their shit. Even Sukuna's upset, he just found out about the whole thing and his belief in humanity somehow dropped further into the negatives than it already was.

Like, they are genuinely ready to kill Naruto over this, and team seven is so confused because they were friendly a second ago, and then both their teachers show up and everything gets worse.

And the thing is, most shinobi don't know about the bujuu-sorcerer connection. The general run of the mill shinobi barely knows anything about sorcerers, and team seven actually learned more than their teachers ever told them on this mission. And it would be so confusing and stressful for them to realize that the monster that they all fear is a respected colleague to these people, and the bijuus loss is genuinely killing the sorcerers.

Just the idea that the monster sealed inside of him isn't a monster, that it was sealed wrongfully, would break Naruto a little bit.

I don't know where this would end up going. Having Kenjaku and Madara/Obito pulling shit at the same time would be a nightmare. I just really like the idea of sorcerers and shinobi having to deal with each other, and of the ninja having to think about the fact that sealing a living being and using them as a battery and weapon for a century is really fucked up, and it's no wonder they try to kill you every time they get out.

This is absolutely delightful and I need 100k of it stat

[itsjaywalkers]

for the drabbles me n you 71 (jokes....unless..)

but seriously rosekiller 60—i think it fits their vibe perfectly

i seriously considered writing a silly drabble for u and me.. greatest ship of our generation etc etc

but anyways !! here u have some rosekiller darling <3

60. "Before you decide to murder me, let me explain..."

If you asked Barty how he ended up pinned to the ground, right next to an open and half-dug grave, and with a scalpel to his neck, he wouldn't know what to tell you.

He knows it started with the disinheritance. Or maybe it was a bit later, when Regulus had told him he couldn't keep hiding in his dorm room, because his neighbour was starting to get suspicious, and he couldn't afford to be kicked out, now that he had also stopped being a trust fund baby. Not like he behaves any less spoiled.

Barty is convinced that it had nothing to do with the risk of getting discovered, and everything to do with that brainless rugby player who has started coming over. Regulus keeps insisting that it's just for uni, because they have a project together, or something, but Barty has caught that stupid jock ogling his best friend more times than he can count.

And there's also that one time he climbed Regulus' dorm window a bit earlier than he had said he would, and had seen the rugby dude lifting his shirt for some unknown reason and Regulus touch his abs with a ridiculous amount of awe. Like it was the first he was seeing a human body.

Barty still wishes he had recorded it. Regulus keeps trying to gaslight him about it but he knows what he saw. Unfortunately. He still has nightmares.

The point is that Regulus needed him out of there, and Barty also had jumped at the chance of getting away. It was fun, at first, interrupting their alone time and being the target of all those murderous glares Dave—or whatever his name is—kept sending his way. But it was beginning to grow old. The fear of Regulus poisoning his food or choking him in his sleep was getting a bit too real—he gets so cranky when he's horny but doesn't get any.

It's not like it's Barty's fault. He used to take care of that for Reg, because he's a great friend like that, but, well, after that one incident of Barty eating Regulus out and Regulus moaning that stupid jock's name, he refuses to lend him a hand anymore. Literally.

Not being able to rely on Regulus' dorm room, Barty needed money, and he needed it fast. So, technically, it had started with the disinheritance. Because like everything else in Barty's life that goes wrong, of course his father is somehow to blame.

Although, and watching the angel straddling his hips and who's about to slit his throat open, Barty isn't sure he'd say this is going exactly wrong.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, blondie," Barty starts, voice a little strained. "I think the scalpel and the whole threatening my life is a little unnecessary. We can have a conversation like grown ups—"

The angel presses the tool against Barty's skin a bit harder, abit deeper, and he has to bite his tongue to repress a groan when he feels the first drops of blood trickle down his neck.

Is this doing it for him? Really? It's not the weirdest thing that has managed to turn him on, but it's about to get very awkward if he pops a boner all of a sudden.

"Or not," Barty rushes to add, chuckling hoarsely. "We can totally talk like this. The dirt is actually pretty comfortable, and it's such a lovely night. I'd dare to say it's even kinda romantic."

The angel tilts his head to the side, brown emotionless eyes blinking down at him. "Are you flirting with me?"

Blondie's voice is empty, lacking any form of inflexion, but so smooth and so soft it's genuinely doing things to Barty.

"Depends. Is it working?"

He blinks at Barty again. Somehow, the gesture looks more condescending this time. The angel cuts him a bit more, and Barty hisses.

"What do you think?"

"I'm taking that as a maybe," Barty retorts, managing a little smirk.

Barty really has no survival instinct. He might actually die tonight, and yet his brain doesn't seem to be able to get with the program.

Not like Barty can blame it. If his killer looks this pretty, then he has no complaints. Or not as many as he should, at least.

"You were nosing around my grave," the angel states, squinting his eyes slightly. "Why."

"Your grave? I don't know if that's right, blondie, you look quite alive to me—"

The angel exhales loudly through his nose, and then moves the blade to the side of Barty's throat, as if getting ready to properly cut.

"Wait, wait," he exclaims, attempting to grab blondie's wrist and then remembering both of his hands are being crashed by his own back. "Before you murder me, let me explain..."

He pauses, leaves the sentence hanging and stares up at the angel with what he hopes are convincing puppy eyes. They've never worked on Regulus, but then again, he's a heartless man who only gets moved by his Prada slippers, so it doesn't really count.

Blondie doesn't say anything, just continues watching him with the most deadpan expression Barty has ever seen in his life. But his throat is only bleeding just a little, and he's still alive, so he'll take it as a win.

"I didn't know it was your grave, blondie," he assures him, and it feels a bit weird, not having to lie to defend himself. Most of the time, he's done whatever they're accusing him of and worse. "Really. Maybe you should put some sort of sign, something that actually stakes your claim, so people like me don't get confused—"

"You shouldn't be digging up graves anyway," the angel cuts him off with a pointed look.

Barty arches an eyebrow. "I'm not sure how I feel about a bloke who's literally threatening me with a scalpel judging what I decide to do with my free time."

"You said you were gonna explain and I'm not listening to any explanations." The angel rolls his eyes so hard Barty is momentarily concerned. "My hand is getting sore."

"You know how it'd feel less sore? If you dropped that cute little knife, or at least put it away from my face—"

"You have thirty seconds to talk before I cut your neck open."

"Okay, okay!" Barty sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. "It really was nothing personal, blondie. I just needed a body, a recent one, with all its organs intact, so I could sell them for an insane amount of money and pay for a room in the uni accommodation."

The angel finally looses the grip on the scalpel, the pressure becoming bearable. "You're digging up graves because you're broke?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Barty confirms with a shrug. "It's easy money. And I have experience digging up graves." He stops for a second and then he adds, "don't ask."

"I wasn't going to."

"So? Truce?"

Blondie gives another one of his slow blinks. "Not yet. How good are you with dismemberments?"

Barty doesn't miss a beat. "As in, having enough stomach to watch them or doing them myself?"

"Both."

"Quite good, I'd say. If I have the right tools, that is."

"I can provide them."

"Can you? Really?" Barty questions with a lazy smile. "Why would a cute, murderous thing like you need someone who knows how to dismember bodies for?"

"That's none of your business," the angel replies, raising his chin. "It's just for a little project I'm working on."

A project that includes referring to random graves as yours? That needs dead bodies' limbs?

Oh, this guy is absolutely batshit insane.

Barty wants him so ridiculously bad he's starting to get dizzy.

"You can have the organs," blondie adds, after Barty takes a little too long to answer. What can he say, he's a little busy fantasising about bending the angel in half and having his way with him. "They're of no use to me. I only need the limbs. And a head."

"Tempting," Barty admits, nodding. "But the question is, can you afford to hire my services?"

The angel finally puts the scalpel in his jacket's pocket, sitting up slightly and crossing his arms over his chest oncee the blade is away. "Afford? An amateur grave-digger's fee can't be that high, especially when you're this desperate. I'm sure I have enough money to—"

"Woah, woah, no one said anything about money, blondie. That's what selling organs illegally is for," Barty chuckles, squirming until he can free his hands from behind him. Still, he's gentle enough to not jostle the angel in his lap too much.

"Then?"

"A kiss?" Barty bats his lashes for good measure.

Blondie glares at him for a few long seconds, and when Barty is about to laugh it off, assure the other boy he was just joking and simply agree to his insane business proposal, the angel leans down.

Barty is sure that blondie only intended it for it to be a peck, but he's nothing if not an opportunist, and the moment the other boy's lips touch his, he rushes to deepen the kiss. Surprisingly, the angel allows it, opening up his mouth all sweetly when Barty licks at the seam teasingly, and tangling their tongues together.

He lets Barty explore a little, shuddering when he hums lowly into his eager mouth, but then he pulls away, the back of his hand coming up and rubbing furiously at his lips.

It's too dark to tell, but Barty could almost swear the angel is a bit flustered.

"Happy?" he grumbles, slightly muffled.

"Very much so," Barty says, not bothering to hide his shit-eating grin. "That's only the payment for a limb, though, blondie. So, if you need more..."

"It's Evan," the other boy correct him with a huff, finally putting his hand away from his lips. "And don't push it. I have to see how good you are first."

"Barty," he introduces himself in response, offering a handshake that Evan accepts, if a little begrudgingly. "I can assure you, I won't disappoint."

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers CHAOS LINEAGE ー Subaru [Euphoria Ending]

ー The scene starts in the Church

Subaru: Uu...Gaah...!

Yui: Subaru-kun!? Please, let go of my hand! Don't try to save me...!

Subaru: Fuck off! Not in a million years!

Yui: You can't, you'll get caught up as well...!

Subaru: Still, I just can't let go of...Uu...Guh...!

Yui: ( Ah, his wounds are aching...He's trying to protect me, even in his current state. )

( I appreciate the sentiment...but! )

Let me go, Subaru-kun! In your current state...!

Subaru: As if I can watch you die in front of me! I promised that I'd keep you save no matter what, remember!?

Yui: And I want to protect you too! I don't want to let you die...!!

Subaru: Shut up! You better not think I'm gonna let you kick the bucket either!

Yui: ...

Subaru: ...

Yui: Fufu...

Subaru: ...Hehe.

Yui: ーー Hey, Subaru-kun. We're very similar, aren't we?

We both refuse to give the other up. Even in a situation like this.

Subaru: Yeah, you're right.

Yui: In that case, we might as well go togetherーー

Subaru: ...

Hah, you big idiot. But I guess dyin' alongside you wouldn't be that bad.

We'll be together, as we die, and in the afterlife as well.

Let's just allow the wind to swallow us up. Rest assured. I definitely won't let go of you.

Yui: Yeah, I'll be fine. Nothing scares me when we're together.

Subaru: Yeah. Come on, look at me. I'll kiss you until the bitter end.

Yui: Okay...

Subaru: ...Nn...

Yui: Nn...

( Such a sweet kiss. The type of kiss which I love so much, making me forget all about my fears or worries. )

( If this is how I'll approach my end, there's nothing to be afraid of... )

*Flash*

Yui: ...!?

Subaru: What was that light just now...!?

*Rumble rumble*

Subaru: Oi, is it just me or is this Church fallin' apart...!?

Yui: Yeah, but how odd. The strong gust of wind and the rubble are all disappearing. Like they're fading into particles of light...

Subaru: Yeah, it's almost as if this World itself is breaking down...!

Don't worry! Just hang onto me tight, 'kay? ...Kuh!

*WOOSH*

ー The scene shifts to the mysterious Chamber

Yui: ...Huh...?

( Where are we...? We were at that Church, and then... )

Subaru: Nn...? Oi, are you alright?

Yui: Yeah, I'm fine! How about you?

Subaru: I somehow turned out alright as well...Where are we...?

The Castle at Eden...?

Yui: Does that mean we safely made it out of that World?

Subaru: Probably.

Yui: Ah, everyone else is here too! They seem to be unconscious too...

But how did this happen? Someone needed to be sacrificied for that World to be destroyed, no?

Subaru: Yeah...But seems like that World fell apart for god knows what reason.

*Woosh*

Socrates: The experiment was a succes.

Subaru: This light, and voice...Socrates, is that you!?

Socrates: At that critical moment of life or death, Adam and Eve most definitely embraced the love for each other.

I witnessed it all with my very own eyes. True love, worthy of the new World.

Subaru: The fuck...!?

Yui: ( I don't quite get it, but I guess this means his experiment has come to an end? )

Socrates: The hint I gave in regards to how you could destroy that World played a big part in everything, no?

Subaru: Haah!? You've gotta be fuckin' with us! How was that bullshit 'bout one person havin' to die supposed to help us!?

Socrates: I am not referring to that. The real clue as to how to break that World was hidden in the legend.

Subaru: The legend? The thing 'bout kissin' Eve in the Church?

Yui: But I wasn't woken up through a kiss...

Socrates: The true meaning behind the story of Sleeping Beauty lies in the fact that awakening must happen through genuine love.

If Adam and Eve can prove that their love is real and seal it with a kiss, the cage will crumble and an end will come to the everlasting nightmare.

Everyone will wake up, and a new Supreme Overlord...In other words, Adam will be born.

Yui: So, the fact we kissed at the Church...

Subaru: Was exactly that...?

Socrates: Now I have seen it all. I will accept losing a dear friend for a love this strong.

I am satisfiedーー

ー Socrates disappears

Subaru: Oi, what the fuck!? Don't just have your say and then dip on us!?

Yui: I wonder who that guy was in the end? Also, this 'friend' he spoke of...

Karlheinz: ...I witnessed all of it as well, my dear friend Socrates. It was a formidable experiment.

Subaru: You bastard...What rock did you crawl out from under!?

Yui: Karlheinz-san. Then this 'dear friend' Socrates mentioned...

Karlheinz: He was referring to me, Eve.

Still, I did not think you would have grown this much, Subaru.

Subaru: ...Che.

Karlheinz: You are now more than worthy to inherit my powers.

Both my friend and I have lost track of just how long we have waited for Adam and Eve to find true love.

For that exact moment where we discover genuine love through the appearance of two people capable of creating a new Worldーー

Eve and yourself did an excellent job proving your true love for one another. I could not wish for any more.

Now, accept these powers of mineーー

Subaru: I don't want them!

Karlheinz: ...Why not?

Subaru: I'll use my own strength to live alongside her!

*Rustle*

Yui: ( Ah...He's holding me tight. )

Subaru: My name's Subaru and she's Yui. We're not 'Adam' and 'Eve'.

I'll stay with her, both in life and death, because that's my own choice.

I don't give a damn 'bout what you have to think of that!

Yui: Me too...I am with Subaru-kun as myself, not as Eve.

Now and forever.

Karlheinz: ...I see. So you will reject every aspect of our experiment, rendering it null and void?

Very well. You did most definitely show us your genuine love after all.

I shall give you two my blessing! As you chose love over powerーー

ー Karlheinz vanishes

Yui: ( Ah, he disappeared...But now we've finally been freed from that cage. )

We can go back at last!

Subaru: Yeah. Let's get outta here already.

Yui: Yup!

Monologue The miniature World fell apart, and we finally got back to our everyday lives. All of us made it back safe and sound, without anyone having to be sacrificed. Of course, this includes Subaru-kun as well. This event proved to us, that we both absolutely need each other. One of us cannot be removed from the picture, even if that is nothing but self-satisfaction. If we truly want the other to smile, then we simply cannot leave their smile. I believe that is difficult, as easy as it may sound. However, I refuse to leave Subaru-kun's side, no matter what happens. I'll live and die alongside himーー That is different from what Karlheinz-san and his friend had in mind for us, but we shall continue to walk down this path, which we carved for ourselves.

ー The scene shifts to Subaru's room at the Sakamaki manor

Yui: Subaru-kun, you're still not getting up? Reiji-san's telling you to get out of bed already.

Subaru: Don't listen to what that guy has to say. Who cares if I stay like this a bit longer?

Yui: But you'll be late for school if you don't get up soon.

Subaru: I can just skip, right? More importantly, you should join me over here.

*Rustle*

Yui: Wah...!

Subaru: Hah, now he'll get on your case as well.

Yui: Geez, Subaru-kun.

( But somehow I'm okay with getting scolded if it's together with Subaru-kun. )

Subaru: Oi, look at me. ...Nn.

Yui: Nnh...!

You can't, Subaru-kun! If we kiss now, who knows when Reiji-san might walk in to wake us...

Subaru: Then let's give him a show. We'll make it very clear that we're too busy for school today.

Yui: Gosh...

Subaru: Who cares? We made it out of that place alive.

Let me feel you even more. I want to confirm that you're actually here with me.

Yui: Subaru-kun...

Subaru: Nn...

Yui: ...Phew...

( No fair...I can't say no when he says such things. )

Subaru: I love you. Forever, and ever.

ーー THE END ーー

[missathlete31]

Pulled Strings

Summary: Jake Seresin is feeling stressed so he gets out his violin and begins to play. The only problem? He's not alone in the barracks today and some of his teammates are shocked to learn of his hidden talent.

This story came from the knowledge that Glen Powell was trained on the violin. Is it filled with unnecessary angst? Yes. Does it paint Hangman in a good light because it's the only way I know how to write him? Also Yes. Sorry about that.

Jake Seresin was used to stress, you didn't become one of the Navy's Top Aviators without being accustomed to it, but this mission was starting to become a bit much for even him. First it was the long suffering rivalry with Rooster. Jake didn't particularly hate Bradshaw, he just never understood him, or his proclivity to over-thinking. Sure, Hangman tended to stray a little far over the line of cocky, but he had faith in his abilities like every pilot attempting the skills they did on a daily basis should. Rooster's naivety was annoying for its sheer unsoundness. He was clearly talented, he wouldn't be where he was if he wasn't, so this faux, 'I don't know if I can go that fast or fly like Maverick' was just getting frustrating at this point.

Hangman knew he crossed a line when he brought up Rooster's father, and if he was honest with himself, he didn't even mean for it to land so wrong. He didn't mean to make it sound like he blamed Maverick, or that Nick Bradshaw's death was anything but a tragic accident. He only meant to light a fire under Rooster, to show Bradley and by extension Maverick that the mustached man was never going to be ready to fly if he didn't stop thinking and living in the past. Bradley did the team no favors, he did himself no favors, staying in his head instead of in the sky.

Since the altercation, Jake had apologized. Maverick took it with a genuine look, his eyes lost in a past that Hangman knew he was fortunate to not understand but had callously brought up anyway. It probably would have felt better if Mav had taken a swing, but the older Captain just patted Jake's shoulder and told him to go get ready for his flight later in the day.

Of course then the dark haired pilot went up to run a hop with Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote.

Jake's initial plan was to reach out to Bradley for his apology as they hung around the ready room but before he could get the words, Coyote was in G-lock and Jake's heart seemed to stop. Javy was Jake's best friend, his only real family if he was honest with himself, and the thought of losing him that day made the ramifications of this suicide mission a lot more sickeningly clear. Hangman had shakily collapsed next to the radio once Coyote finally answered but then the bird strike happened and everything seemed to get even more clouded with emotions. Jake would never survive something bad happening to Javy but he in no way thought he would feel the same way about the others, not until he kept hearing Phoenix's voice calling that they were on fire, of Bob's panicked cries that they needed to eject, of Maverick screaming they couldn't save the jet. All three voices, combining with Mav's calls for Javy to pull up, were terrifying enough to cement into Jake's nightly rote of nightmares for the time being. Another strain from an impossible mission.

Hangman went to the hospital after Phoenix and Bob were picked up like all the others but somehow, once everyone was deemed more or less in one piece, it seemed only he and Rooster remained in the waiting room, both men needing to see their teammates with their own two eyes. Jake mustered his apology there and Bradshaw, reeling from the close call of almost losing Phoenix, Bob, and Coyote in the same afternoon, had only begrudging nodded.

Things weren't fixed, they never would be, but a truce was created. And, the asshole part of Hangman also wished he could point out to some of the others who still looked at him with disappointed looks, Rooster was now flying faster and giving Jake a run for his money in terms of being wingman. Especially now that it was basically written in stone that Maverick was flying; he had demolished the course the other day after the funeral.

It was a scary concept, a foreign concept, but Jake was suddenly finding himself thinking he might not be the one flying this mission. He had the speed, that much was never in doubt, and his target locks were getting better- still not the best, but certainly no worse than the others. No, Jake's deficiency was that he had no team; the others trusted him about as far as they could throw him, and he could tell from day one that Maverick held pride in pilots that could work together, not solo showboats. Hangman had overshot his landing field in this whole predicament and it was really throwing the blond Texan off kilter.

Jake wasn't used to failure, he didn't allow for it. He didn't have to worry about facing his parent's wrath for failure anymore, that bridge collapsed and burned the day he left for the academy, but there was so much expectations Jake had placed on himself because of them, so much need to prove that he was worth the time, the effort, the love that was never given.

Yet as the hours to shipping out crept closer and closer, Hangman seemed to find his place was being filled by someone else and the looming shadow of not being good enough was getting ready to block out his sun.

Hence the stress.

His normal stress reliever was running but the typical North Island sun was hidden in rainclouds this afternoon. The team was able to have their standard lecture but hops had all been scratched, leading Jake to feel restless as he paced his small housing. Normally rain wouldn't deter a run completely for the hot shot pilot, he actually found it quite peaceful, but he doubted Maverick or Cyclone would be as accepting and the chance of a reprimand for risking illness so close to shipping out dissuaded the blond. His next thought was the gym but Jake didn't have the stomach to run into any of the others, they were on better ground but not enough that anyone went out of their way to include Hangman, except Javy of course. Coyote had texted earlier to say that he and some of the other pilots had taken the short respite the weather had afforded them to get off campus, and from the lack of noise around him, Jake assumed he was the only one left in their housing block, which offered a unique opportunity. Hangman headed over to closet, pulling out the guitar case that was one of the few personal items he allowed himself. Opening it carefully, Jake reached for not a guitar but a violin, the mismatched instrument case his attempt at not allowing others to know his hidden talent. Playing the guitar was expected from a Texan, but a violin? Not something normally entertained from a cocky Naval Aviator.

Jake took our his bow and made sure to grab some rosin, greasing it gently and properly like he was shown so many years ago. When everything was ready he brought the instrument to brace against his neck and began to play, the notes coming easily as he moved through some scales and uncomplicated melodies. Immediately, Jake's shoulders un-tensed, the power of music always calming him, and he closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't back at Top Gun and training for a deadly mission but rather back home, in Midland Texas, playing in the orchestra room with Ms. Elliot, one of his most beloved teachers, as she watched him with a pride reserved usually for parents that Jake had never experienced before.

Quickly, Jake was transitioning to harder pieces, the melancholy of both the rain and his own disappointment in his performance thus far these past few weeks making him long for sadder and more drawn out music. He naturally went to Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto, skipping to the second movement so he could relish in the hauntingly dramatic opening melody.

Next he switched to Bach. Jake was not normally one for changing composers so quickly but he allowed it today, his fingers just playing with no real thought, his bow slicing across the strings as he integrated the two musicians a few times as the pilot sounded out his feelings. It was emotional for the blond, his own inadequacies coming out through the notes and Jake wasn't surprised when a tear, and then two, slowly trailed down his cheeks. He didn't try to wipe them, couldn't stop now that he was so engrossed in the music anyway, until he thought he heard a knock on his door.

"Bagman!" a familiarly angry voice called, "hey Bagman!"

Jake's fingers stuttered, his bow coming across jagged and letting out a screech that made goose bumps prickle on his skin. For a moment the blond stood there unmoving, shocked at the interruption to a point he didn't really know how to proceed. His guest, however, seemed undeterred.

"BAGMAN OPEN UP!" The voice called again and Jake finally recovered enough to put his violin down. He could sense the blush rising on his cheeks, the natural embarrassment of being caught, although he knew he had nothing to be ashamed of. He felt unsettled, not liking to ever be caught unaware, and Hangman couldn't help but curse himself for not ensuring that he truly was alone on base before he started playing. Hoping he could act it off as the radio, Jake put his violin back in its case carefully, but when he recognized Phoenix's knock for a third time, because of course it had to be the fiery female pilot that loved to give him shit on a good day that caught him, he jumped and slammed the case shut.

Striding over, Jake took one last second to wipe any remnants of the tears the music caused him away before swinging open the door. He schooled his mask in place and tried to look annoyed, hoping to throw Phoenix away quickly, but he was met with not only the dark haired woman but her WSO behind as well. The addition of Bob shouldn't have been surprising, they seemed to be attached at the hip these days, but it still made Jake's haunches rise, now seemingly caught by both of them.

They were all silent for a moment before Natasha gave a long suffering sigh, "finally" she drawled.

Jake narrowed his eyes, "What?" he questioned, his tone a touch too emotional to play off his normal Hangman persona, "What do you want?"

"I want" Natasha grumbled out in clear annoyance, "for you to lower that classical music crap you're blasting. We can hear it down the whole barrack."

In what should have been a relieving moment, since Phoenix wrongfully assumed Hangman was listening to classical music and not playing it, Jake couldn't help but scoff in an indignation he didn't quite understand. His temper flashed, "right" he sneered, his trademark cold smirk growing, "can't upset precious Phoenix, god forbid someone does something she doesn't like."

Her dark eyes flashed as her nostrils flared, "Rich coming from you, but I shouldn't be surprised that you would have no decency for any of the rest of us. Thinking you own the place like you always do."

"It was just music-"

"It was loud-"

"We were trying to catch up on some sleep" Bob stepped in, playing mediator to the two high tempered pilots, "been a little difficult since the bird strike." Phoenix immediately shot her back-seater a traitorous look, no doubt hating for the man to expose a weakness so easily to Hangman of all people. Jake, however, stepped back with a shaky nod, understanding more than anyone the debilitation of night terrors. "Fine" he spoke up, curt but not mean. "I'll keep it down."

Bob looked grateful, a smile rising on his lips, "thank you" he replied back and then when his partner stayed silent, he cleared his throat. He lifted an eyebrow towards Natasha and when the woman caught it she rolled her eyes, "thank you" she murmured, before turning away and moving to go back to her own room. Bob looked to follow before his eyes caught something left on Jake's bed. "Wait?" the bespectacled man spoke up questioningly and Jake followed his gaze to see the bow he had failed to put away in his haste, "is that yours?" Bob continued.

"Yeah?" Jake couldn't stop the defensiveness in his tone, "so what?"

"You were playing before?" Bob looked weirdly delighted, his excitement making Phoenix turn back around, "you weren't listening to music, you were playing it."

"Look Baby on Board-"

But Jake's words were cut off as Natasha stalked back over, "That wasn't Bagman" she explained with all the certainty in the world, "that was a recording." She turned to her partner, "like we said before Bob, it was like a professional."

Somehow such a off-handed compliment from Phoenix of all people made Jake's stomach flip and his cheeks reddened. He held back the urge to run a anxious hand along the back of his neck. When he looked up he saw Bob's knowing stare on him, "Violin?" the WSO asked softly, smiling when he saw Hangman's small nod in return, "it was beautiful."

"Hang on" Phoenix pushed back forward, now heading into Jake's room uninvited. "That couldn't have been you, you don't have a violin."

"I do actually" the blond moved back to his guitar case, "it's here." Somehow if he kept his eyes downcast, he could ignore the burning blush of embarrassment at exposing himself like this. When Hangman undid the buckles and showed the small string instrument to the duo in front of him, Bob gave a acknowledging hum but Phoenix's brow furrowed. "So you really play?" the shock was slowly leaving Nat's tone, replaced by a lift that made Jake worry. "Yeah" he nodded, green eyes watching as the woman kneeled down next to his instrument, "I do."

"Okay" her fingers ghosted over the strings carefully, "so play us something."

"Excuse me?"

"Play us something" she looked up at him, face challenging. "If it really was you" she goaded, "you should have no problem."

Hangman rolled his eyes at the dare, "I'm not some street monkey" he reasoned.

"Are you scared?" her dark eyes were bright with mirth as she took a seat on Jake's bed as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Jake would be lying if he said it didn't send his heart into a somersault at the sight. His feelings for Phoenix had always seemed to simmer within him, but time and angry barbs between them had cauterized Hangman's hopes of anything ever happening. To see her now, sitting in his room, waiting for him to expose such a hidden and beloved part of his soul, was preposterously frightening. "Come on" Phoenix urged, though her voice lost a lot of its edge and seemed more curious. "Your audience is waiting."

As Bob moved to take his desk chair, Jake picked up his bow and sighed, relaxing his shoulders to get into position. Jake knew he could play the piece he had been working on before but something about seeing Natasha sitting there in front of him, her right foot tapping against her left in her impatience, made him think of another song. He started the first few notes, the look of recognition crossing Phoenix's face as the popular sound of Frank Sinatra's 'My Way' filled the tiny room. Jake knew Natasha had grown up in California, but something about the East Coast crooner that was Sinatra and his mantra of 'My Way' always made the blond think of the fiery female pilot. Natasha Trace was a force to be reckon with on a good day, an immoveable stone on a bad. She was unforgiving in her quest to get what she wanted and yet her drive helped encourage everyone around her to want to be at her level. She was a brilliant pilot to watch and even better to fly with, and even though Hangman left her on that first day, he only did it because he knew she could handle herself up there in the skies. Her getting in the way of his shot was an unfortunate circumstance and though Jake could have easily defended his actions and explained the situation, he knew he would always be delegated to Phoenix's enemy rather than her friend. Hangman knew his place despite how much it killed him.

As the song came to a close, Jake finally opened his eyes to see the twin looks of awe on his teammates' faces. When he put down his bow, the blond pilot prepared for the teasing but Bob began with a round of applause that Natasha joined. "That was great" the bespectacled WSO announced, "really great."

"Thank you" Hangman turned to put his instrument back down, properly this time, avoiding Phoenix's look. The woman scooted to the edge of the bed however, to watch him, "he's right" she finally spoke up, "it was great."

Jake's cheeks flushed with barely hidden pride, "told you I could play" he countered, meeting her eyes.

She smirked, her expression playful, "guess it's par for the course for a rich kid like you. Must of had a whole bunch of hobbies to impress mommy and daddy."

Jake's face fell as he thought about his childhood. Yes his family was wealthy, but they were poor in everything else that mattered: love, affection, conversations, attention. He tried to hide his shudder when he thought of his Father's reaction to him choosing to study a girly instrument instead of spending more time with a pigskin. "Yeah" he finally gasped, his face pale from unease of the memories, "something like that."

Sensing she messed up, Phoenix leaned closer, allowing a hand to catch Jake's arm, "hey" she called, until she finally managed to get him to look at her again, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." He closed the buckles on the guitar case and stood up from the floor. "Alright" he clapped his hands together, "concert is over now, you guys can go and get back to your naps or something."

Natasha sighed, "Bagman-"

"I said go" he nodded towards the door, "I don't think I need to show you the way."

Bob stood first, looking a little crestfallen, "well thanks" he murmured, heading out into the hallway. He didn't wait for Natasha, which was good as the short woman still hadn't moved from Jake's bed. Hangman crossed his arms defensively, "what Phoenix?" he shot out, his tone cold.

"Nothing" she shook her head before getting to her feet. She crossed the room and headed for the door, only stopping as her fingers gripped the door frame. As though debating with herself, Natasha waited a moment, then finally turned back around to look at Jake, "I guess we aren't always what we seem right?" she asked him, their eyes meeting.

"I guess not" he replied back, not exactly knowing what she meant but understanding enough to know that it went beyond the violin.

She nodded, "See you around Bagman" she called heading after Bob.

"Sweet dreams Phoenix" he whispered back, before shutting his door. He didn't go back to playing, honest in his hope that Phoenix and also Bob were able to catch up on sleep, but he felt he didn't exactly need to. The stress and uncertainty of what this mission would bring was still there but Jake felt lighter. He could only do what he could, could only prepare as best he could and have faith that the best possible outcome would unfold. He had to, because any alternative would break the blond beyond repair.

Also here is a link to the most beautiful cover of my way on a violin. I’m obsessed with it ❤️😊

[spikedsoul]

maid's worst nightmare - ch 41

thank you to everyone who's keeping up with this longass, slow to update story!! i'll keep updating the pinned post on my blog just in case some of y'all prefer to wait a while to read several chapters at once, i know they short 😅

previous chapters

@sovereign-of-succ

(i'm assuming you still want tagged in these?)

Your mind should’ve been reeling over the fact that you just insulted a king to his face only for him to turn around and tell you he liked it. It should’ve also still been reeling about how the same king had completely and utterly rearranged your guts just earlier.

But it wasn’t.

Junior barely avoided a banana that Morton dropped, but Ludwig hit it hard and went spinning out; at the same time, Junior let fly a red shell, and Morton wasn’t quite able to dodge the homing device, allowing the youngest koopa to fly out in front.

Bowser genuinely hadn’t minded, and had calmed you down so naturally that you were almost alarmed. He’d been surprisingly good to you so far, like you couldn’t do any wrong… and you were starting to wonder what would happen when you did inevitably fuck up. Hopefully he hadn’t put you on such a pedestal as to have it come crashing down when you proved fallible…

The moment the boys crashed through some item boxes, both Morton and Ludwig threw them - Morton chucked a banana forward at the same time Ludwig threw a red shell. The shell skidded under the banana and straight for Junior, but Junior was ready; at the last moment, he sent a green shell flying backwards, shattering the threat to his lead.

You’d just have to wait and see, you supposed; things were just getting started between you two, and even the healthiest of couples probably argued sometimes. The test would be how you two reconciled, depending on the infraction.

Morton flew through an item block, now behind not only Junior but Ludwig as well. No sooner did the little star appear in his hand than he used it - his speed picked up fairly dramatically on top of his new glowing status, and he quickly began to close the gap between himself and his eldest brother. Ludwig barely had time to move before Morton came barreling past him.

Unfortunately, that chosen moment was right on a sharp turn, and Morton was going much too fast to be able to handle the corner. Even more unfortunately, it had been a turn onto the stretch of road that ran through the lava field without guardrails; he went careening off the edge toward the boiling lava below, Ludwig quickly overtaking him with what seemed to be a laugh.

“Morton!” you cried, and you could even feel Bowser tense behind you, but just like before he held you fast in his lap.

“Remember what I said,” he rumbled quietly, although the vague strain of his voice was easy enough for you to hear.

“How–?!”

Literally as you asked that question, a lakitu came rising up with a fishing pole in hand. Morton was somehow on the end of the line, obviously fuming as his kart got plopped back onto the road a little unceremoniously. He took off the second he could, but he was now well behind both of his brothers.

“See? There’s never real danger.” Bowser gently rubbed his chin on your head again, purring quietly.

You let out a little whimper as you pressed yourself as close to Bowser as you could. “Doesn’t mean it’s not terrifying… you can’t tell me you didn’t worry briefly, too.”

“Of course I did!” he scoffed. “But they’re my kids. Well as I know the game, don’t mean I won’t still worry ‘bout ‘em.”

At least he was man enough to admit it, you supposed. And he had a point - they were his kids, not yours, yet here you are worrying like a distraught mother. Bowser had seemed like the type to just let his kids do whatever without worrying too much, so you were actually sort of glad to realize that wasn’t the case, and that maybe he just knew how to let the kids make their own mistakes. Based on his flinch, you knew he’d be willing to do what was needed for them if necessary, but if he knew it wasn’t…

“Are there ever any times you do step in?” you asked softly as you watched Junior use “bad” items to routinely block the shells coming at him.

Somehow, Ludwig and Morton weren’t getting lucky with items anymore.

“All the time… or at least, I used to. My kids is pretty good at knowing their limits now, though. We been through enough rigamarole they know when to ask for help, or when I might go off on ‘em. I mean, Junior still learnin’, but he is the youngest,” he murmured.

You nodded, gently squeezing his hand with both of yours. That sounded fair enough, and still allowed the kids to make their own mistakes if they thought they could handle something.

Bowser chuffed above you and used both of his arms to gently squeeze you against him.

Down on the tracks, it was little surprise to see Junior sail over the finish line first, both of his little fists in the air from the obvious win. Ludwig came second, several seconds behind him and pouting, which meant poor Morton came last with a scowl on his face the whole way. You felt a little for him - he’d gotten a star, after all, and still came in last place! But then he’d also tried to drift around that sharp corner…

“Let’s go meet ‘em,” Bowser grunted, suddenly shifting you into his arms.

“Ah–” You barely had time to realize what was happening before he was taking the steps down two at a time, though he managed to keep from jostling you too much.

As he entered the hallway that led to the stairs down, he hummed quietly, thoughtfully. “Y’know, I think once we get back to our room-” Your eyes snapped wide at his use of the phrase ‘our room’ “-I think it’s about time you tell me your name, huh, darlin’?”

If you weren’t so blindsided by how his room was now y’all’s room, you might’ve sighed and tried to downplay it or put it off. But you were once again reeling for the umpteenth time that day at something incredibly unexpected that all you could do was nod and give him a weak response.

“Y-yeah… I’ll explain then…”

“Good! But first, we gotta congratulate the boys on a decent race. I’m sure Morton could use a big hug after that humiliatin’ defeat,” Bowser chuckled softly.

Yeah, honestly, after watching him almost fall into lava, you were pretty eager to hug the poor kid. Plus Ludwig would probably like a hug, and Junior… well, maybe even he’d want one! But you weren’t totally sure just yet. At any rate, you were happy for a change of subject.

“Yeah. But you’re gonna have to put me down for that, you know,” you smiled a bit.

Bowser scoffed, but you could see the playful smile on his maw. “We’ll see about that.”

[rosetyler42]

In my opinion, the Hotel Transylvania films were underwhelming, cliché and too juvenile, they simply weren't for me. I didn't find the characters that interesting and so I didn't care about their relationships, the character I liked most was Ericka because of her potential as a goofy villain.

While I know it's a kid's movie, I dislike when vampires can opt out of drinking blood using blood substitutes. Its my opinion that vampires should be scary, and if they don't have to feed from living things then what's the point?

Do you like vampire-themed media in general, and do you like any mature vampire-media? I'm currently into Vampire: The masquerade which is an rpg taking place in a dark, gothic-punk version of the real world where supernatural beings live in secrecy.

I think they were good films, especially HT and HT3. They had alot of untapped potential I think. Transformania in particular did NOT measure up to what it could have been, and HT2 had it's problems too. But I liked the cartoony Addams Family approach and family dynamics. I wouldn't necessarily call them "Juvenile," particularly since there's a tendency to brush off animation - particularly cartoon animation, as being for kids and somehow not as valuable a medium. (You're also talking about something made by a person who was used to doing family cartoons like Dexter's Lab and Samurai Jack, and loved cartoony animation. So it's not surprising it takes a more family friendly spin on monsters.) Along with Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, it helped bring cartoony stylization back to modern animation, which it deserves respect for.

I'd say there's something for everybody in the films. Heartfelt moments, funny moments, angst, surpeising depth at times, even some adult humor. But they're definitely not for those that believe vampires should be scary or evil as the big point is the "Monsters are just like us" racism/discrimination allegory. Then again, particularly as a queer neurodivergent and someone brought up on films like Iron Giant, Monsters Inc, Megamind, Shrek etc. I've always liked films that humanize characters we're expected to hate and be scared of and show them in a different light. And I personally found the introduction of blood substitutes and animals as vampire food sources an interesting way of doing that. Particularly now I know how vampire mythos can intersect with blood libel and the HT Drac fam's jewish coding.

(Here's another read more:)

Now, I DO agree Ericka is one of the best characters, and has been at the center of my obsession. Not only is she a fun goofy villain, but she's genuinely an interesting, loveable character too with an interesting backstory who deserves FAR more love than she got. A beautiful mix of feral chaos and charming elegance, who can be just as nuts as the guys, and definitely not the norm for a woman character. Particularly a love interest. And like many in the fandom, I feel she would have made a BEAUTIFUL vampire. But characters like Johnny, Mavis, Dennis, Drac etc are also fun to watch and play with for me.

In terms of other vampire media, I actually have gotten into some of them, particularly with my recent HT obsession! Dracula Dead and Loving it is a recent watch I liked. It has the tongue-in-cheek humor of HT but being more like the book and other Dracula adaptations, it's darker and more adult. Rocky Horror Picture Show's vampire adjacent and is pretty fun, particularly the music. As is Little Shop of Horrors (both versions of the musical film AND the OG black and white one.) And I've been meaning to watch the Van Helsing film. I've also read Dracula Daily and plan to do so again this year. While not exactly SUPER mature depending on how you define that, I've also played some of the Monster Prom, Camp, Roadtrip series which includes vampire characters. Alot of my "horror" stuff tends to be more like Nightmare before Christmas, Ghostbusters, Monster House, Corpse Bride, Gremlins, Addams Family (both Live action films and the TV series, plus I plan to watch the animated film some point,) Blithe Spirit, Bendy and the like. More family friendly type stuff.

Coraline (and Laika in general,) Bendy, Poltergeist (OG), The Twilight Zone (OG and one of the new series') and sometimes Doctor Who are probably the most hard horror things I've really gotten into. I've kind of dipped into FNAF on occasion, Quite a few of my friends are into Undertale, and have meant to watch Supernatural as well. But never fully got to watching either of those.

[cyrusthedragon]

Okay, I know this post will read only one man and his dog, but I really need to write down all my thoughts on season 4, and just keep it structured. If you're interested in discussing it - you're always welcome!

HUGE SPOILERS BELOW, CHAPTER 1/2

Word count: 1,057

Includes: Vicky Neuman, Zoe, Kimiko, Frenchie, Hughie, Hughie's mum

1. Victoria Neuman + Zoe

First of all, I really need to appreciate this intro cuz, excuse my goddamn french, Vicky Newman is HER. Vicky Neuman is absolutely HER, I'm really looking forward to her character development. I honestly don't think she's a villain, she's just an antagonist, but a very good one. She is not a bad person in any particular way, she has an Idea in her, she has a Meaning, she has Reasons and Motivation. More Neuman please, especially in GEN V. Thanks.

Like Vicky, her daughter is also a scary ass Supe, but unlike Vicky, who's a bloodbender, Zoe's powers hardly can be used for anything good. Some headcanons here:

While Vicky thought that she was the monster because of her “terrible” abilities, she, by injecting her already grown-up daughter CompV, somehow created a real monster. She stupidly turned her child into a freak, who will be very difficult to accept by society, because her... superpower is something that u often see in nightmares. And it’s unlikely that the typical "don’t judge a book by its cover" slogans will be enough to accept that someone can pierce your mouth while kissing you with their four...tentacles? Whatever they are. I personally find them cute, btw, but in The Boys Universe, I'm not sure ppl will accept Zoe. Zoe, forgive your mom. She's not thinking rationally when she's worried about you.

It is also very much worth thinking abt her willingness to kill without any questions asked. That was definitely not her first murder. Vicky could use her power, as a politician perhaps, and bring victims to Zoe so that she could kill them and get used to it.

2. Kimiko

These are just very beautiful shots that I want to share with yall. First - Zoe tore off Kimiko's hand, it just grew back :D I love this scene for its absolute absurdity. God bless Karen Fukuhara. + Demonstrated that Annie can fly, also a good introduction to new abilities! Well done!

Secondly, I ADORE Frenchie's reaction here, it just shows so much love he has for her: Kimiko's face literally peeled away, she REATTACHED IT, and Frenchie, her platonic soulmate, at first was confused af, and then he UNIRONICALLY SMILED to his girl being literally unkillable. I feel you, Serge, I love her too!

Kimiko is very balanced. Information about her comes up every season, and each time there is enough information left to theorize but be satisfied. She's small and cute, like a mouse. She loves girly stuff like doing hair, wearing jewelry, and dressing up. She’s all about having fun and smiles a lot. Her gentle, kind personality totally contrasts with her powers of mega strength and near-immortality from regeneration. She was raised to defend and attack, but her empathetic nature is well shown in the smallest details.

For example, new information: Kimiko gets wasted super fast. I adore her.

3. Frenchie

Next to Kimiko, literally being her soulmate (i fuckin' can't believe that we're so lucky that in addition to the chaos of dicks and murders, we also have the genuine, platonic love between a man and a woman AT FIRST SIGHT), is Frenchie. We've already seen he's bi; this isn't the first rodeo, but now he shows it ON THE SCREEN, HURRAY, COMRADES. I'm very proud of him, he's my baby 🥹 we finally, with the help of his new love interest, found out about all the murders he committed when he worked for Little Nina and even before that. Frenchie is a very balanced character, just like Kimiko, you learn a little about his life in each season, and each time enough to build theories and be satisfied. I wanna know how to write like that.

My favorite things about Frenchie are his wild love affairs and his doglike loyalty. He's got an unbelievable knack for forming strong platonic (with Cherie also sexual, but you get the point) bonds with women, who end up adoring him. Probably because he has a heart of gold and doesn't act like a jerk. He also sincerely tries to be better. C'mon now, he's doing his best! All the love for my boy.

4. Hughie

Hughie loses the only person who has been with him his whole life. His father was a great, excellent parent. But it’s time for Hughie to stand on his own two feet and become at least a little bit the main character - which means, eh, i guess rest in peace, Mr Campbell?... If this doesn't happen, I'll be overjoyed. Although besides pushing Hughie to mature, the coma plot also provides a chance for us to learn about his mother. His dad is in a coma - won't she come? Here we learn a lot of interesting things about our babyboy.

Hughie's emotional outburst when he sees his mum for the first time since he was just a kid is very realistic and I love everything in here, including the cast choice. Because Hughie is a spitting image of his mother. This kind of attention to details makes me wanna chew Kripke's brains off.

Hughie is very similar to his mother: in speech, in movements, in facial expressions. For some reason I really like this. He, like his mother, has tenderness and a steely core, they are both very stubborn. Although he also has a note of “cowardice” from his father, his desire to push forward and that decision in the first episode to go help Butcher and take revenge on Reggie were just visible sides of his mother’s character.

Not gonna say that was the original idea, but I think Hughie saw Butcher in his mother. Because 'I'm not made to be a father'. And he realized that Butcher was almost just like she was. At least it seems to me that way. That being like Butcher is... normal. Ppl do fear being parents. And this is currently the best representation of postpartum depression, very realistic shit, Kripke, I'll stuff your brains into a Thanksgiving turkey. With all love and respect.

If you've made it this far, congratulations, you're a survivor! If suddenly s/o wants to be tagged in the second part of this review (well, sort of), write in the comments and I’ll tag you!