#i have consumed so much impulse content over the past couple of days

[galaxygermdraws]

So like, I'ma be honest, I have spent the last 5 or 6 days doing nothing but binging Impulse's HC7 because I was feeling nostalgic and in a mood. And this alone was enough to convince me to juts. Sit down and draw even MORE of him. Deer has been enabling me to keep going, I have like. Less than 20 episodes back. I get through like 20 a day. I'm fine

(reblogs with tags/comments are appreciated. Thankyu)

[redhead-batgal]

Type: One-Shot

Pairing: Fem! and Vigilante! Reader x Jason Todd/ Red hood

Content: cursing, a claustrophobic reader, little bit of angst, some fluff and a bit of violence

Y/N: Your Name, L/N: Last Name, V/N: Vigilante Name

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angry wasn���t a strong enough word to describe how you were feeling. Enraged, infuriated and pissed off came close but not close enough. This feeling was so strong and so vivid you could practically see it, hell you could probably taste it.

Unlike how most people describe anger, yours wasn’t a red. No it was white, an icy hot white that seemed to drench every single one of your senses. White was in the corners of your vision, It was clinging to every single sound, it was in each smell, sharp and clear. You could feel it dancing on your skin like electricity, it covered your tongue and coated your cheeks.

It was everywhere. 

And at the moment the icy white seemed to be invading your lungs and slowly turning into a dark black. Such a dark and dense color it began to be hard to breathe. You were in fact in the last place you’d like to be at the moment. Which just so happened to be locked in a closet. 

It didn’t help that you weren’t alone. While yes, being alone would mean you would have to go through it alone. Go through the feeling of all the walls closing in on you as the air gets thinner and your head begins to spin as your brain fries from panic, as your entire body began to spasm and you blacked out from hyperventilating. But at the moment you would have preferred to be alone rather then let him, see you go through all of that. It was bad enough he had seen you slip up the week before while on patrol. 

You had been patrolling with Batgirl and Black Bat, this was usually what you did. Since you didn’t get along very well with Robin, and Red Robin, well he scared you a tiny bit due to one patrol in which you saw him consume ungodly amounts of caffeine. You couldn’t keep up with Nightwing and were informed by Robin that Batman thought you talked to much. Batgirl and Black Bat seemed to to be the perfect fit.

However on the night in question you sort of wished they hadn’t been. It would have been easier to explain why you messed up and he wouldn’t be able to hold it over your head. It had been a dumb move but you were bored, patrol had been relatively quiet with Black Bat taking care of nearly any threat that appeared before you or Batgirl could even respond to the comm. Oracle had just informed the three of you to be on the look out for Penguin. He had been recently making many trips to a abandon warehouse. The three of you had been asked to make sure nothing happened. Of course you decided that divvying up assignments would be perfect so all three of you could see some action. Neither Black Bat nor Batgirl had argued so you each took an area to watch. 

It had nearly been an hour since you had spilt up. There was no action on your end. You had just begun to give up hope when

“I see Penguin,” Batgirl whispered into the comm.

Excitement coursed over your veins and you found yourself bouncing up and down, you nearly threw yourself across the rooftops so you could join Batgirl in the fight. However-

“It looks as if he’s just casing the place... somethings off. What do you say Black Bat? Is something off?” 

You didn’t want to hear that, Penguin was here, obviously something was happening more then likely it was illegal and you were itching to punch someone, Shaking your head you bounced from the balls of your feet to your heels. 

One click came over the comm from Black Bat. She, agreed with Batgirl, leaving you the odd man out... well odd woman.

“I think we should just wait for now,” Batgirl remarked.

Begrudgingly you agreed, at the moment nothing was happening and you knew that if you charged in fists swinging and weapons raised Batman would have your head. 

“Fine.” You sighed

It took you a minute but you moved yourself so that you could watch Penguin without “technically” leaving your post. Penguin stood a couple hundred feet from the door to the warehouse, surrounding him was close to twenty goons.  He appeared to be talking to them and looking at his watch, suddenly one of the goons stepped up to him and whispered in his ear. Penguin nodded and waved a hand. All of the goons including himself began to move into the warehouse. 

There were upsides and down sides to this. 

Downside number one: You couldn’t see them anymore

Downside number two: This could be a trap

However there were more upsides then down.

Upside number one: You got to move into the warehouse

Upside number two: More then likely this was some kind of deal going down and you would get to punch a dude in the face

Upside number three: You were finally gonna see some action. 

Lowering yourself into a crouch you quickly spoke into the comm.

“I’m gonna go in.” “V/N, don’t. Something about this doesn’t seem right.” 

“I’ll be fine, besides how else are we supposed to see what’s going on?” 

There wasn’t a reply, though your weren’t really paying attention close enough to notice. You had begun bounding your way towards an open window you had spotted earlier while scanning the perimeter of the building. You vaulted in through the window just barely making it; internally you thanked Nightwing for insisting upon doing acrobatics for part of your training and made a mental note to ask him for some more lessons later. 

The warehouse wasn’t completely empty, it had two levels, the top was covered in boxes filled with packing peanuts. You briefly remembered Red Robin saying something about this place being owned by a former packing company, however at the time you weren’t really paying attention. In your defense Red Robin, at the time, had an mini army of at least fifty cups of empty coffee at his feet. 

Creeping past the boxes you settled yourself in between two large ones watching at Penguin and his goons stood in the middle of the room. 

“Where is he boss? Didn’t he say he’d be here?” One of the goons asked with a slight sneer.

Another rolled his eyes and scoffed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show, would make the boss look like an even bigger idiot.”

Penguin shot the man a look then he raised his umbrella, opened it slightly and a gunshot rang out. The goon fell down dead, a tense feeling came over you however, instead of jumping down and trying to apprehend him you stayed where you were. Someone else was coming, you may be impulsive at times but you weren’t a complete idiot. 

It wasn’t long before you heard doors open, it hadn’t occurred to you that the comms might not be working, you just thought that Black Bat and Batgirl were just either hiding as well somewhere in the warehouse or were waiting for you to say something. 

You can’t say that you weren’t surprised when you saw him. As far as you heard he was going straight, hell you where then when he told Batman himself that he was going to follow the Bat rules. You wished it didn’t hurt as much as it did, but seeing Red Hood walk into the warehouse stopping just before the center felt like someone shot you. 

He was alone and you could tell from his body language that this wasn’t exactly a friendly meeting, that and the fact that all of Penguin’s goons drew there weapons at the sight of him. 

“You rang?” Red Hood remarked.

Penguin narrowed his eyes and looked Red Hood over. He lowered his umbrella and took a step forwards.

“You came alone?”

“Does it look like I have backup?” 

Penguin didn’t reply, he just looked up and began to look around the second floor. For a moment you thought he spotted you, but he kept scanning the floor. After looking it all over he looked back to Red Hood, then remarked, 

“Search it.”  

Your stomach dropped and you knew you had to get out of there, normally you wouldn’t mind jumping into a fight, but Red Hood’s business was his own. No matter how much it hurt and no matter how much you wanted to know, it was none of your business. 

Slowly pushing yourself to your feet you waited until Penguin’s goons began to climb the stairs. Turning to go back the way you came you found yourself face to face with Scarecrow. 

Of course it just had to be Scarecrow, the one villain who had a toxin that could leave nearly everyone incapacitated. 

“Shit.”

Scarecrow laughed slightly remarking, “What do we have here?”

The next thing you knew something was being sprayed in your face. Instinctively you backed away from the liquid coming at you. Taking four steps back you suddenly noticed that the ground wasn’t beneath your foot anymore. Then you stumbled backwards and began to fall. 

After that everything was a blur, you faintly remember hearing Red Hood shout,

“Damn it.”  

Before everything disappeared and the nightmares took over. You awoke the next morning only to discover that had it not been for Red Hood you would have died. A rookie mistake, Scarecrow had snuck past into the warehouse as you were watching Penguin. Had you been paying attention to your surroundings instead of trying to find a reason to jump into the fight, you wouldn’t have been caught so off guard. 

Not paying attention to your surroundings also got you into the mess you were currently in. 

You, had been avoiding him, Red Hood- Jason Todd ,for the past few days. Not only was it embarrassing that you made such a dumb mistake but, the fact that you had to be rescued got under your skin. You prided yourself on not being a damsel in distress yet it seemed that you had times where you were one. It didn’t help that you felt violently angry at him, he was supposed to be going straight and yet he was meeting up with Penguin and Scarecrow. Every time you saw him you turned and nearly ran in the either direction. It had been working just fine until this evening.

You had been in the library of Wayne manor, grabbing a book off the shelf when Jason came in. Seeing him you felt a sharp spark of white anger, however instead of acknowledging his presence you decided to ignore him. A poor choice really, a petty one, and at the moment you didn’t care. 

You began to browse the shelves when you spotted him moving towards you. Continuing to ignore him you moved down the aisle. He followed and you turned sharply moving into the next aisle. 

“Y/N.”

You almost looked up, you almost blew it, however after many months of ignoring a persistent Tim Drake and an even more persistent Damian Wayne, you learned how to ignore someone when they called your name. 

Moving down the aisle towards the back of the library, you should have noticed Tim loitering in the corner and Dick at the very end of the last aisle. But you didn’t, you were too keen on keeping away from Jason.

“Y/N, are you seriously avoiding me?” 

You couldn’t keep it together, every fiber of your being wanted to shout YES, Yes! of course. Why wouldn’t you be avoiding him, you were angry with him, so very righteously angry... or so you thought. 

You made it to the end of the aisle and you stopped, had you been paying attention you would have noticed the open door just behind you and how Tim was right behind Jason as he got closer. You went to leave, to move to yet another aisle when Dick moved into your path. 

You side-stepped in a hope to slip past him but he followed you. Letting out a frustrated grunt you gave him a slight glare. 

“Move Dick, I need to get pass.” 

“Sorry Y/N, but no.” 

You blinked and raised an eyebrow in confusion, Dick took a step forwards and took the books from your arms. You opened your mouth to shout protests when he shoved you straight into the room behind you. Your back bounced against the wall and your stomach flipped as you realized it was a closet. A second later you saw Jason stumbling towards you. 

It seemed that he too got shoved into the closet, he slammed into you and you once again hit the back wall. The door slammed shut and you heard a faint click. Your stomach dropped and suddenly everything was dark. 

“You two,” Dick remarked from the other side of the door, “are going to make up and you are not coming out of there until you do.” 

You felt Jason pull away from you and then heard quiet cursing's. A light flickered on and you saw how small the room was, it was just the two of you alone together in a very tiny room. All the air went from your lungs and it began. You sank to the ground as the world around you began to spin. 

Instantly Jason was sitting across from you not fully seeming to understand you were having a panic attack. And that lead up to this moment the anger was being taken over by the panic. Your hands were shaking and you eyes closed, you could feel his gaze on you as you tried to steady your breathing. But everything was spinning and the enclosing walls followed you, dancing on your eyelids as you felt your empty stomach revolt against you. Had you eaten something you would probably be hurling it up. Instead your entire body shook as you pushed back dry-heaving's. 

Clenching your fists you let your nails dig into your skin trying your hardest to let the pain yank you out of the attack. But as your palms became slick with blood nothing happened. Opening your eyes you felt a fierce wave of panic come over you as you frantically looked around, trying your hardest to find your way out. 

You wanted to lunged towards the door, but you were stuck. The room was so small, you could feel Jason’s legs pressed against yours, your heart began to beat erratically and you swung a bleeding fist towards the door. Weakly banging against it you wanted to cry out but the words caught in your throat. So you decided to try and bang your fist against any and every thing you could, starting with the walls that seemed to be getting closer and closer with every breath. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart calm down,” Jason remarked grabbing onto your wrist. 

You shook your head feeling tears beginning to form in your eyes, hands shaking even harder you felt your entire body begin to shutter. Squeezing your eyes shut you choked back sobs. Pressing your fists your eyes you tried to force back the tears. A heavy feeling cloaked your lungs and it felt as though you were trying to swallow a brick. 

You felt hands on your wrists, gently pulling them away from your face. Your eyes flew open and you began to once again look around erratically.

“Hey,” Jason said softly, “hey Y/N, look at me. Hey look at me, Y/N.” 

You forced yourself to focus on Jason, he locked gazes with you and then you tried to continue to look for a way out.

“Eyes on me doll,” He stated and you looked back at him, “that’s it, Atta-girl. Now breathe with me, innnnn and outtt.” 

He slowly began to breath and you took a deep breath in keeping your eyes on him, then let it out. Jason nodded and you breathed with him for a little while, slowly calming down ever so slightly. Still shaking however much calmer, he let go of your wrists and you clench your fists again. 

“Your safe, don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get us out of here alright?” 

At first you didn’t respond, then Jason pressed his forehead against yours and you could see his eyes, you were closer then you’ve ever been before. They were a pretty color, a greenish-blue, though at the moment they looked more green then blue. You also noticed how he had very light freckles across his cheekbones. If you weren’t freaking out you would have blushed, been embarrassed by how close he was, you would have probably taken a mental note about the freckles and how beautiful his eyes were. However, all you could think about was how small the room was. 

Very gently touching your forearms, Jason stared you dead in the eyes.  “Alright?”

You could only nod and grab onto his shirt in return. He blinked for a moment before his hand was off of your arm and around your waist. 

“Is this-”

You nodded once again before he could finish his question, he pulled you in closer, your legs squishing against each others as you pressed you head against his chest and closed you eyes. All you wanted was to get out of there, to be able to breathe and stop panicking. You felt Jason pull you into his lap and then he began banging on the door. 

“I swear to fuck that if you to dumbasses don’t open up this damn door I’m going to murder you in your sleep.” 

You could hear Tim and Dick quietly talking on the other side of the door. Probably contemplating whether or not they should open up. Merely thinking about the door make your heart pick up pace again and your restarted breathing quickly. Jason hesitated before he banged on the door again shouting,

“If you don’t open this door right fucking now, I’m going to break it down.” 

You heard cursing coming from the other side of the door and then a click, your eyes flew open and you watched as the door swung open. Lunging forwards you tumbled out of the closet. Air filled your lungs but you didn't stop there. No, you scrambled to your feet and went barreling out of the library down the stairs and out the door. Once you made it outside you took a deep breath in, fresh air sharply stung your lungs and you nearly collapsed into the grass crying with relief. 

It had been a lesson of sorts for you, learn to watch your surroundings... and don’t assume things. You didn’t exactly know what was going on at the warehouse but you did know that despite your previous disbelief, you believed Jason. He was going straight now, staying clean and following Bruce’s rules. Because there was no way he could be nice enough to help you through a panic attack, get you out of a closet and... save your life all while being bad and killing people. 

Though you’d never admit it, you might be a little biased, after all you might have a teeny, tiny, eensy-weensy little crush on him. It didn’t help that you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him, of course it wouldn’t be locked in a closet but... it wasn’t so bad. Being alone together. 

Blinking you lay down on the grass staring up at the sky, there were no walls here to come in on you, nothing really to suffocate you. Closing your eyes you took in deep breaths and let them out. You heard the sound of a door opening and the grass crunching slightly. Opening your eyes you saw Jason standing above you.

“You okay?”

“Much better now, thank you.” You replied taking in yet another breath

He nodded and looked as if he were about to turn and go when he let out a sigh. Closing your eyes you waited to hear the sound of him leaving, it never happened. Peeking an eye open you found him staring at you.

“You know Penguin asked to meet with me that night. He said it was a peace meeting… turns out he and Scarecrow planned to ambush me.”

You blinked in confusion. You hadn’t told anyone that you saw him in the warehouse and as far as you were concerned everyone thought he just swooped in and rescued you. Something you suddenly realized he was doing a lot of. Why was he explaining what happened to you.

“You didn’t have to tell me that,” You began as you gave him a confused look, “it’s not really my business.”

Jason shrugged then rubbed the back of his head. Nodding he remarked,

“Yeah, but I just thought you should know I am going straight. Following the old man’s rules and all.”

This only confused you more.

“Why? I didn’t tell anyone that you were meeting Penguin, and I wasn’t planning on it.”

Jason shrugged as he turned to leave, pausing for a moment he sighed.

“I don’t know doll, I just don’t like the idea of you seeing me as a bad guy.”

A weird feeling began in your chest, it wasn’t like butterflies or any kind of fluttery things. It was a warm and soft kind of feeling.

Smiling up at him you rolled your eyes and said,

“Well Jason Todd, I could never see you as a bad guy.”

He blinked and then smiled back shaking his head.

“That makes me very happy, Y/N L/N.”

With that he walked away and the warm feeling began to spread from your chest throughout your entire body all the way down to your toes and up to your ears.

It seemed it wasn’t as small of a crush as you wanted to believe. Feeling a slight blush begin on your cheeks, you covered your face as you realized being alone with him wouldn’t be so bad. As long as you were alone together

[moondustaeil]

ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴇᴄʀᴜ ⊰❀ ᴋ.ᴊᴡ

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·. colourized ecru

⠀ ⠀⠀ about

⋅  genre : soulmates!au - fluff, angst, suggestive content

⋅  pairing : Jungwoo x reader

⋅  word count : 25.8k

⋅  warning: it gets a little bit suggestive at the end, but no actual smut

⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ synopsis

⋅   “Pick a colour” said lady Cyan who was strangely familiar. Your fingertip had endlessly trailed over the palette, but you picked ecru. Every day that goes by: you sit under the Daimyo oak that protected five little daisies, little did you know one of the five daisies is willing to give you a “loves me” or “loves me not” with Jungwoo, the boy from the enchanted soulmate library...

⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ colours

⋅  this is a collab created by @neo-cult-ure​ , where me and other writers went for a soulmate concept but each went our own ways with a specific plot. I would like to take the time to thank everyone in this collab: for the friendship and for the process that we underwent together ! Please check out their fics as well. [Author’s note is at the bottom]

「ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ : # ꜰꜰꜰꜰꜰꜰ」

Sat with your back against a tree, it nearly appears that you're one of the stereotypical nature-lovers on earth. It would have looked like a regular thing to do, if only you held a cliché poetry book, or if you weren't sitting there whilst clouds were turning into a very dark shade of blue. The if-only scenarios were only fiction as in reality you were sitting against a tree in the middle of a weather transition, your hands empty and your eyes shut.

"pick a colour," a faint but comforting voice tells you, you nearly feel comfortable due to the sugary sweet undertone in the voice if it weren't for the pair of eyes you were greeted with. The cyan-coloured eyes look straight into yours even if yours were shut in reality.

Upon hearing the request, your eyes open themselves to do as you are asked. A soft layer of dust seems to coat your eyelashes which causes your eyes to flutter open a couple of times before you're greeted with the world. Your expectations don't meet up with what's actually in front of you, the last thing you had in mind was an empty landscape on each angle that your eyes explored. No one with a cyan-coloured pair of eyes staring into yours, in fact, no one is around you at all. There is no colour palette from which you can pick a colour, the only colour palette is that of the scenery. Just a stereotypical scene surrounds you: green grass, white daisies, and a very dark rain-filled sky.

It's going to rain, and it's a shame that you have to find out the second it's too late. Little droplets rapidly leak from the dark clouds, not enough to get you soaked, but enough to make you realise it was time to leave. You get up from under the tree, setting off in a fast walking pace as you leave the park. You don't run as you don't want to look like the fool who sat in the park whilst knowing it would rain, that embarrassing feeling is not something you want to give yourself. Whatever you were doing under a tree on a rainy Sunday evening is forgotten momentarily.

The world seems strangely different but one thing that stayed the same was the way to your apartment, and you're lucky it's only a ten-minute walk, nine if you continue to keep up the slightly faster walking pace. Though thanks to the weather, the walk seems a bit longer, but still only exactly nine minutes pass when you sprint up to the stairs towards the second floor.

You close the front door behind yourself once you're inside the apartment. The first thing you do is kick off the wet pair of Vans on your feet, you leave them in the middle of the hallway before stepping over them to get into your living room. You stare at the decorated living room, staying silent as there is no roommate you have to greet, which luckily allows you to glue yourself onto the sofa for the rest of the night. Dinner could have been made but you're not in the mood to make a mish-mash out of leftover ingredients.

For everything in life, there's a useful app, just like there's a useful app that you use to order your dinner with. Unfortunately, there's no such thing that gives you an explanation for your own weird actions like sitting underneath a tree for god knows how long. You pay for your dinner before throwing your phone aside, leaving social media to drown in its toxic nature.

You stand up from the sofa and head to the bathroom. You wash up by taking a quick shower, brush your teeth, do your overly extensive skincare routine even though you don't feel like it, and lastly change into your most comfortable nightwear. Right when you leave the bathroom and are about to settle yourself down on the sofa, the intercom stops you and tells you the food arrived. Luckily for you, you already paid and the delivery man is nice enough to drop off your food right in front of your door instead of two floors down.

"thank you!" you say extra loud so that the delivery man manages to hear you even when he's already on his way downstairs. You lift up the bag with food and instantly take it inside before any of your friendly neighbours come outside to have a healing talk. Once you close the door again, you decide that it's the moment to lock yourself in for the rest of the evening. A house party by yourself seems the perfect way to name what you're about to do: watch abandoned Netflix series while you occupy your sofa as a dining area.

You slowly start eating whilst Netflix provides you with entertainment. Yet, the series isn't interesting enough to keep you distracted from your thoughts, that or your thoughts are very determined to keep the subject alive. The view of two characters getting in a petty fight over money is replaced by the same view as earlier: the pair of cyan-coloured eyes that were staring into yours, followed by the sight of the tree you had been sitting under not long ago. There was something about the scene that seemed too important to forget as it constantly returned to your mind.

But why was it that you couldn't forget about it? Your eyes close as you give in to the thoughts before they consume your entire brain. It seems like a bunch of little white clouds start to form in your mind, each of them is filled with a tiny piece of information about the unforgettable encounter. Despite your confusion, you’re willing to make those little clouds pop in order to receive some new information. Firstly told was that you weren’t allowed to forget the tree or lose focus of it, another cloud tells you to remember the tree because it might not be there forever. The little clouds fill the blank spaces in your mind, but it’s not enough.

You indeed never saw the tree before, it is something you can conclude after you went on a train of memories. Before today, you had been in the park numerous times to situate objects and pieces of nature, it was a little bit too familiar to say that you had no idea whether you saw the tree before or not. A piece of your heart interrupts your thoughts, without words making your interest in the tree bigger with each second you thought about it. Perhaps you would listen to yourself and keep an eye out for the tree, just to check if you weren’t betraying yourself.

After sighing, you shake your head to yourself. “You’re going crazy,” you tell yourself in a whisper, taking the glass of water from the side and sip from it to wash away the stream of useless thoughts. Fortunately for the future, it’s a mission you would fail in. Unfortunately for you, the thoughts wouldn’t get washed away for quite a while.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

7:05 am

You wake up with a jerk, immediately catching your breath as you came back from running a marathon. The faint voice in your mind disappears, leaving you alone in your dark bedroom. The distant sound of rain drumming against your window makes your eyes open, searching for the little patch of light in the darkness until your eyes are fixated on the window.

It must be raining outside and you must be in your room. Unlike a minute ago when you found yourself in the park once more, sat underneath the same tree as yesterday with the cyan-coloured eyes staring at you from a distance. Your tensed body falls back onto the bed in relief, you're happy to be in bed even though the urge to go to that specific spot is eating you from the inside. Slowly but surely you turn your body towards the window, eyes focused on the patch of light that shines through. The sky seems grey like it's grieving for the start of a new week, but you're just grateful that you're not completely consumed by the darkness in your room.

When you think about something so much, people would say that you're in love, but clearly, you can't be in love with a tree, can you? If it was up to you to explain your feelings towards the tree: it would be a mix of hatred due to the constant thoughts about it, but also fascination because of the unknown meaning behind it. It's no secret that by now, you actually start to believe you're either way delusional, or that faith is on your side but you're not sure why.

"Fuck it" you quietly tell yourself as you get your sore body out of bed, starting the day rather impulsively as you would have preferred to stay in bed for a little while longer. Your nightwear is ditched on the sheets as you almost shoot yourself into yesterday's outfit. There's a sauce stain from last night's dinner in the middle of your shirt, but the dried-up spot is something your eyes miss or don't even care about at this moment. It's too late to question what you're doing before you realise it, you've already left the bedroom.

Similar to other and more rushed mornings, breakfast is something you forget about, though now it seems like abandoning it willingly rather than just forgetting about it. You walk past the kitchen and directly into the hallway, exchanging your bare feet for the wet shoes you left in the middle of the path yesterday evening. It seems like you're rewinding yesterday's events even though this time, you sprint down the stairs instead of up.

The moment you walk out of the apartment complex, you can feel the little droplets of rain layering onto your hair, it's like taking a shower first thing in the early morning. The feeling is annoying and it could lead to you getting sick, but you don't think of the consequences, neither are you caring about them right now. The sprint turns into a fast walking pace as you're greeted by a still calm street. Luckily at this hour, there aren't many people around, and if they are then they're in a rush to get to work.

Your feet speed up lightly as the urge to get to the park grows only bigger knowing you're only ten minutes away from the place. You walk further towards the park even though it's hard to keep yourself from going past the walking pace, luckily you're just very determined to keep your bit of dignity. Ten minutes isn't that much in reality, even if it takes up one of the six parts in an hour and one of the three parts in half an hour.

When the park comes into view, you opt to ignore the presence of a few early birds that jog towards the park, just like them you start jogging. The remaining minute turns into a matter of seconds as you run through the unofficial entrance and straight towards the tree that you feel captivated by. You don't care that you're running over the grass rather than the ground, it's not like the bit of dew could make you slip.

Your feet come to an abrupt halt once you're close enough to the tree, only taking smaller steps towards the piece of nature until it seems like the tree could engulf you in its branches. You greet the tree with a smile, unaware of your own little gesture. With the bit of distance between you and the tree, you reach out your hand to touch the trunk. "What makes you so special?" you ask quietly, it's more like a rhetorical question as you feel like you have to find out the answer for yourself.

Your hand pulls itself away with a slight sigh, the calmness spreading through your body after a second of contact between you and the tree. You turn your body and get into the same position as yesterday, your back pressed against the trunk while you look at the scenery. The spot that you claimed allows you to stay out of the rain, the branches and twigs catching a couple of droplets before they can get to you. It takes a minute for you to settle down in that spot, but once you do, it's like you're sitting in the perfect spot.

The view you have from this spot is amazing, especially seeing people rushing in their lives while you're sat under a tree that gives a protective vibe. But you're aware that you must be sitting here with a goal, and you have no idea what that goal could be. You cock your head to the side, allowing your eyes to check the little flowers that you find yourself in between like you ruined their little get-together.

Five little daisies proudly standing amongst other big trees and plain green grass, their two simple colours stand out compared to the other naturistic elements around you. It were the kind of flowers you would make a flower crown with when you were still a child and the flowers you could use to determine whether your crush really loved you. Not that you did that many times as you were too realistic, or at least that's what you thought about your years as a child.

A tingling feeling spreads itself starting from your wrist and all the way towards the ends of your fingertips. You break eye-contact with the white-yellow coloured flowers and use your eyes to inspect the palm of your hand. But, you don’t see anything more than just a simple hand quivering to the unexpected intensity of the tingles. Your fingers clench themselves until they’re hidden in your fist, pressuring the tingles to go numb. 

The set of strange events make you close your eyes to ponder, trying to ignore the reality to just silently wonder about them without having to go through the experience once more. Yet, the moment you close your eyes you seem lost in one of those events, one that you’re encountering for the second time. The Cyan-coloured eyes stare into yours eyes, a determined and yet comforting look that make you feel responsible over something you’re not aware of. “Ecru? That’s a fantastic choice, darling. Your world is now colourized ecru” the voice says in a soft tone. The voice seemingly fits the fawn colour that you can imagine when saying ecru. Your mouth opens to speak, but before you can push one word out, the pair of eyes are gone. 

Once again, you're left in the park with your eyes closed and your hands empty just like they were yesterday. Only this time, the world had changed, or perhaps it had before but you were too dumb to realise.

The world is now colourized ecru

「 ꜱɴᴏᴡ : # ꜰꜰꜰᴀꜰᴀ 」

"Your world is colourized what?" Sicheng asks you, making it clear you had to clarify the story for the third time today. His eyes glance over at you like it would make him understand the words a little bit better. You would have sighed if it wasn’t for the fact that you would do the exact same thing if he told you a similar story. You wouldn’t have understood either, perhaps you wouldn’t even bother believing it.

Getting the words on the tip of your tongue again, only takes up a few seconds, you could repeat them whenever you wanted and your head provided you with the same voice as the person that told you.”Your world is now colourized ecru” you repeat again, this time saying the words slower since the language gap could make it harder for him to understand what ecru meant, even though it isn’t language-related as you had to google the colour too. “The voice told me that” you add, explaining more than needed just so that Sicheng could understand and believe your story.

“Colourized ecru, isn’t that like the beige colour?” Sicheng asks as his feet take slower steps just like his mind is processing the entire situation in a slow pace. To you, it is almost too slow, as being headed to the park became something you are weirdly enthusiastic for, or rather than that, you simply long to find yourself sitting underneath that tree. “I thought so too, but apparently it’s not. I saw a pinkish shade in it but Wikipedia said it was greyish-yellow. So I don’t know anymore” you answer his question, leaving your best friend even more confused now that he doesn’t know which colour your world really became.

The rest of the walk to the park is as blank as it was before, with Sicheng asking questions and you giving vague answers because Google wasn’t always as smart as you thought. Eventually, you realise that you would have to find a way to answer your own questions instead of letting Google do it for you. And aside from mental support, you’re sure that Sicheng can’t help you with answers either. 

“This is the tree,” you say as you walk underneath it with Sicheng, allowing him to sit first between the five daisies that he hadn’t even noticed yet. You sit down on the free space next to him, stopping the urge that your eyes get as you don’t want to close them while your best friend is around. “Do you know what kind of tree this is?” Sicheng asks you, his head raising to look at the branches, twigs and the leaves hanging from it. He fails to see the way you shook your head but already expected a no from you, or well, he had never seen your interest laying in the origins of a park tree.

Through his lensless glasses, Sicheng looks at you again. “Perhaps you should visit the library, they must have some books about trees,” he suggests, his head turning unexpectedly when his hand touches one of the five daisies hiding in the grass. Before you’re able to catch up with what happened, he quickly places his hand next to them instead of on top of them. “And flowers” he adds quickly, giving you an innocent smile.

"Did you ever play the loves me, loves me not game with daisies?" Sicheng asks as he motions to the little miracles of nature with his free hand, your eyes immediately go towards the flowers, something you almost instinctively do as you would stare at them each time you came here. “I didn’t, I wouldn’t know who would love me” you answer with a small shrug, still convinced that you never played those silly games during your childhood. The loves me, loves me not game was made up out of lies, a flower would never be able to tell you who you belonged with. “Your soulmate loves you.”

“My soulmate?” you ask as you hear the word soulmate go past Sicheng’s lips. The word isn’t unfamiliar, perhaps it’s a bit too familiar as there is a lot of doubt to the existence of soulmates in the world. Some claim soulmates are just for people who meet each other and symbolically label themselves like that, others say soulmates could meet each other in special circumstances, and there was a group of people that completely deny the existence of the phenomenon. You have no idea which group you belong to, neither do you know what Sicheng thinks about it. Never have you pondered about the possibility of meeting your other half. 

Sicheng hums in response to you, a tiny smile coating his lips as he reaches out to one of the flowers and disconnects it from its long stem. “You just go like this” Sicheng says as he ignores your soft protests against what he was doing, something felt wrong when he plucked the flower from its safe spot. “Loves me, loves me not” he says as he starts to demonstrate, leaving you to watch how he throws away something precious. It makes you feel emotional, with petal after petal falling to the grass after getting plucked from the yellow-coloured disk. Each of those petals seem to represent how close you are to having tears in your eyes. You felt sick with apprehension.

“Loves you not,” Sicheng says whilst the last petal sadly falls onto the green grass, laying scattered next to the other petals that he had plucked away. Just like you predicted seconds ago, tears are burning in the corners of your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks, but you refuse, you don’t want to be the person to cry over a flower. “That means you’re not my soulmate and I’m not yours,” Sicheng simply says, whatever was left of the flower falling from his fingertips and ending between the few white petals. 

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The feeling of melancholy continues to follow you everywhere after what had happened. It started as a small pit in your stomach the moment Sicheng first separated the flower from its natural habitat, but as the hours go by the pit only grows bigger and leaves you unable to feel a different emotion.

After Sicheng left you with an apology for possibly fucking up something you desperately needed in your life, you had found yourself grieving over the flower for two complete hours. Those hours go by with tenderly holding the remains between your aching fingertips, and telling yourself you had four flowers left that no one would pluck away from you. Yet, when you left the park, there was the fear that a stranger or child would pluck them for fun. You had been hesitant about leaving, but you couldn't stay with the flowers day and night.

That’s how you end up marching to the local library, following up the at least useful piece of advice Sicheng gave you. You were no longer angry at him, perhaps you even blamed yourself for not making it clear enough how important the flowers were to you, how they seemed to connect to you and the ecru world you found yourself in. Grateful for the suggestion he made earlier: from the suggestion about going to the library, to the suggestion of a so-called phenomenon called soulmates.

You had no idea what time it was when you found yourself in front of the library, neither did the sky really tell you much because you weren't looking up at it. Your eyes were too busy to make sure you didn't bump into any people or objects whilst your thoughts were working overtime. Your steps were quick as the stairs only counted a few of them before you were right in front of the wooden door. Something else you didn't notice were the opening hours hanging on the left, you would have been able to see it was a quarter past closing time when you arrived. Your fingers wrapped around the door handle, trying to pull it down in order to get the door open but the handle merely moved an inch before getting stuck in its position. "Shit"

The spark of hope you had was taken over by the large part of melancholy once again, you didn't even need the opening schedule to know that you probably were standing here because it was closed already. This was one of the reasons you had to make sure before getting hopeful for things, especially now that you were obligated to wait the entire night before you were able to possibly let your thoughts rest. You couldn't help but pull the handle down once more, or attempt to as this time too it had no intention of letting you in.

In the end, there was no other option but to go home for the night and be tortured by your strayed thoughts. The walk home being extra long due to your unnecessary stop at the park to check if the tree and flowers were still there, waiting for your return tomorrow. But perhaps that's not the only thing waiting for you, perhaps a soulmate is waiting somewhere as well. Waiting for you.

「 ʜᴏɴᴇʏᴅᴇᴡ : # ꜰ0ꜰꜰꜰ0 」 

For the third day in a row, you're already waiting in front of the library ten minutes before the building opens its doors. For the third day in a row, you manage to find a spark of hope somewhere inside of your body that tells you that today is the day that you will find something. But finding the right books is harder than expected: somehow writers don't really dive deeper into the wondrous world of soulmates and books about trees take ages to thumb through just to get to the right illustration of the tree. It's hard to find what you're looking for, especially as you have no idea what you're actually looking for.

But today you're determined to find anything the book is willing you tell you. You hope having a picture of the tree would make it easier to receive information, even if you have no idea if any of the people around are skilled in giving you the answer to which kind of tree it was: the books are supposed to give you the answers but how are you going to recognise your tree between many others? Something else that could help you were the daisies, you know the name but never imagined there to be a meaning behind them until you thought back about Sicheng sadly removing one from the world.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when the door is unlocked and soon opened for the public, even though right now no one but you stood in the invisible queue. The feeling of victory is quick to spread through your body the moment you step inside, the high shelves don’t make you feel small, if anything, they give you more motivation.

“Good morning,” A voice speaks up without you realising it, you unfortunately ignore it because you’re too focused on finding the books you need for your progress. If you had heard it, you would have been able to tell how oddly familiar the voice was, and you could have linked it to the weird experience you had in the park. It was a missed chance, but more chances would come in the near future.

Your footsteps take you up the stairs where you had been going to for three days now, it became a part of your routine. Nature-related books were usually found upstairs as not many people were interested in the miracles of life these days. You admit that before, you were one of the people that took nature by granted, something that changed drastically in a short period of time. 

You sit at the empty desk near the corner, a popular space you know from experience, but as no one is there, it’s yours for the rest of the day. You’re quick to turn on the computer in order to check out the catalogue, a catalogue of which the books don’t change but each day you scroll past the same ones in hopes that a new one gets added. Your fingers hesitate over the keyboard, hitting a letter befoe deleting it again as you remember searching for the word yesterday. “Can I help you?”

You look away from the computer screen when you hear the voice, a fake, friendly smile appearing on your lips as you get ready to give a fabricated response. “Not really I don’t know what I’m looking for but I don’t think you can help me,” you tell the person in front of you, giving her only a brief glance which makes you seem uninterested. “Perhaps I can help you, you can tell me what you’re looking for and I will help you with finding the right books” she offers you. Out of annoyance, you hand the person the little, coloured post-it note with the keywords on.

“Tree, daisies, and soulmates” The voice reads the keywords on your paper out loud, her words flow out like she’s familiar with them. Your handwriting must be near enough to read it without trouble. “Yes,” you mumble in response, already knowing the words by head so there was no need for anyone else to say the words like the woman just did. Okay, perhaps it had been a rude thought of you and it was uncalled for, but you’re convinced that no one is able to help you and you weren’t willing to waste time on someone who wanted to try. “What kind of tree are you looking for?” she asks you but before you can answer, she interrupts you again “do you have a picture or a name?”

You hastily fish your phone out of the pocket of your pants, after unlocking it going straight to the gallery to find the set of pictures that you made yesterday. All of the pictures look overly similar, but having multiple pictures gives you more proof. “Ah, I think I know what tree it is” she says when she gets a glance of your phone, or rather, the picture of the tree. “This is the Quercus dentata, or daimyo oak if I’m correct. I can find some books about this tree for you?” she inquires after blowing you over with the difficult name and her cleverness to recognise the tree immediately. She hands you the note back even though you immediately discard it beside the computer keyboard.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what I need” you admit to her, slowly turning in your chair to properly tell what was going on. The last thing you want is spilling the story to anyone gullible and willing to listen, but there is a sense of trust between the two of you. Indeed, you don’t know what you need and one of the reasons that you’re here is to find out what you need and why you need it. “You don’t know what you need?” She asks you, but still smiles as she says the words, she seems like she knows more and she’s about to share it with you. You shake your head, an almost desperate gesture as you want help even from a librarian who perhaps had no idea how to help you. “Seeing the keywords on your note, I would say you’re here lurking for information about something specific that overcame you. And you must be looking for an explanation because the tree, the flowers, and the soulmate part all seem to blend together?”

Having someone next to you, saying the words from a perspective that was unfamiliar to you, it was like one of your millions of questions just got an answer. The answer was so easy, perhaps because the question was a simple one too. “Is that true?” she decided to ask because the look in your eyes revealed how surprised you were by the words. You slowly look up at her face, promptly staring into the pair of bright-coloured eyes. The unnatural cyan-colour rings a bell in your mind, and it only takes a second to remember the times you had seen the eyes before. “Y-yes, I think so” you respond in a softer tone, barely getting any words out of your mouth because of the shock that numbs your ability to speak or think. 

The elderly woman can only nod at your words, something you don’t see as you are too busy staring at everything but her face. Right now, you’re looking at the name tag pinned to her shirt. It shouldn’t be a surprise to see her name, but yet, “Cyan” is typed down in a Verdana-lookalike on the tag. The numb feeling completely takes away your ability to speak, or you’re just speechless at this point. A couple of days ago there was nothing, then the tree came in your life, and now you feel as if you’re close to figuring out the ecru world you live in. Yet, you don’t have half of it figured out, barely a quarter. 

"So, can you help me?” You ask out loud, your posture straightening more unknowingly. You expect a no but still hope for a yes, and you can’t tell beforehand which one of the two it’s going to be. Cyan -if that’s what her name really is- seems to hesitate, her eyes simply staring at you with an emotion that you can’t name. “I’m not sure, I already helped you to realise what you’re looking for” your shoulders immediately slump back against the wooden chair, a sigh slipping from your lips as you try to admit this was exactly what you expected even when it wasn’t.

You nod sadly as your eyes leave her to focus on the computer screen again, this time you know what to type in the search bar but you feel too unmotivated to make it through on your own. “Thank you anyway” you say soft as you give her one last glance, your eyes almost begging for her to stay so that she would give you more information. You’re convinced that this Cyan, is the same Cyan that brought you in this strange ecru-coloured world. It’s something you can’t accuse her of, but deep inside you know that you’re right about them being the same person: some people that you come across in your dreams, are real people, just like Cyan.

"You're welcome, don't let it get plucked away from you, you will find out"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Exactly fifty-nine minutes before closing time, you still find yourself in the same spot in front of the computer, though this time, the screen is pure black and your eyes are scanning every few words in the book laying on the dark table. 

The work that you’re doing now isn’t ever going to meet up with any work you used to do for school, this took a lot more energy but at the same time, you feel more useful and smarter than the times you would make a paper about concentration because it was easy to copy from others. When the teacher back then said that making the paper had seemed to help you a lot with your skills, you were sure that you were good at faking such things. But if there was a teacher to evaluate you now, you wouldn’t even have to fake anything.

Thanks to Cyan you got onto the right path, or at least you are trying to convince yourself that you are walking on the right path. The pieces of evidence next to you give you a good feeling, it seems like literature is more important than you used to believe, especially the pages where little post-its are pasted between to look back on. However, you don’t seem to realise there is no more time to look back on any of those things, you had been so caught up in the available literature that you forgot about the standard needs of a human or the opening hours of the library.

You flip the page of the book as quick as you can once you read the last few words of the sentence, another soft sigh leaves your lips as you realise this book about daisies isn’t going to get you far. Perhaps there was a limit to the amount of information people could receive in a day, but at this point, you’re convinced that you’re way past that limit. Your eyes meet with a new chapter, the boldly-typed title staring at you but you’re too busy translating the words from their original language into English, even if the English words are written a dozen times over the upcoming paragraphs. 

effeuiller la marguerite

Quietly and almost inaudible, you translate the words for yourself. When you say them in French, it doesn’t ring a bell despite the little knowledge you have of the language. When you repeat the same words in English, you instantly think back about the day you and Sicheng spent in the park. The way he used one of the precious daisies to demonstrate how you were supposed to play the simple, but childish game of “loves me, loves me not.” You could still taste some bitterness of the moment on the tip of your tongue, a consequence of Sicheng unintentionally ruining the flower. 

The first paragraph provides you with a definition of the game, something perhaps not useful even though school always taught you the definition before anything deeper. Even if the context was the more important part, you still needed some framework to understand.

“She loves me, she loves me not or he loves me, he loves me not is a game of French origin, in which one person seeks to determine whether the object of affection returns that affection.” The words are literal, perhaps a bit formal but not in a university-level. It gives you the hint that you are the person looking for an object of affection in this ecru world. It is you, you that has to search for the other person, for a he, she or them that would possibly love you, or not.

“How does it work really?” you ask yourself silently as you read past some French paragraph that you don’t feel attracted by, it seems like the next paragraph nicely explains how you’re supposed to play. It’s quite silly to think of it, you exactly know how to play the game, but don’t believe yourself and go for an unscientific instruction in a book about daisies. “A person playing the game alternately speaks the phrases "He loves me," and "He loves me not," while picking one petal off an ox-eye daisy for each phrase. The phrase they speak on picking off the last petal supposedly represents the truth between the object of their affection loving them or not. The player typically is motivated by attraction to the person they are speaking of while reciting the phrases. They may seek to reaffirm a pre-existing belief, or act out of whimsy" you read in a whisper-tone, sometimes stumbling over your own words because of the stiff and formal use of words. However, the moment you look back at the words, they don’t seem as formal and stuff anymore, they make sense in some way.

The chapter is no longer than two pages long, yet those two pages had managed to provide you with a lot more information than other chapters did. Added to your story were now the flowers that fit right in the framework Cyan made for you, it’s like being one step closer to knowing what you’re supposed to do. A sad hunch overcomes you as you finish the chapter: there are only four daisies left, four daisies that you can’t recklessly use to play the game. You need to find the matching object of affection.

Your hand pulls back the thick side of the book against the other to close it, resting it on top of the other books that you had been browsing through today. For a second, you allow your eyes to close as they’re exhausted from the endless focus, yet it didn’t mean you were going to give up. On a different pile were two books left: one of them is filled with more information about trees, the other is a magazine that has an article about soulmates. Unfortunately, that article is the only copy that has the words “soulmates” in them, meaning that no other existing source was available to you.

“Sorry to bother you, but it’s closing time. And I think you really need some rest, love” Cyan who had helped you so dearly before was now about to ruin part of the progress you made, or she was trying to help you by giving you an opportunity to go home and rest. Though, you opt it’s the first option as you feel too far into it to stop. Perhaps Cyan wasn’t aware yet, but she would find out soon that you came here on a daily basis ever since three days ago. “Can’t I stay for a little while longer, just until you closed up. I need to read some more” you say in a soft tone as you motion towards the two sources that still have to get scanned by your inexperienced eyes and mind.

Cyan takes the magazine from the pile, reading the word “soulmates” on the cover and immediately she knows which magazine it is. It’s one that most beginners want to read, but at the same time, it’s the most useless piece of literature in the entire library. Yet, it seems like you’re willing to read the public source as they don’t have any others. “You can come back tomorrow, can’t you?” she asks simply, dropping the magazine back onto the pile before looking at you to scan your facial expression. The emotion displayed on your face is mostly desperation: it makes Cyan want to give in, but the tiredness in your eyes is what holds Cyan back from telling you to stay until she closed up. It wasn’t like the article was helpful and you would regret staying longer just to read it. 

"Come with me"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Cyan paves the way to a place you had never witnessed in the few years of regularly visiting the library - not that you visit overly often, or at least not before the entire ecru-world circumstance - , but you are positive that this hall was one of the places you had never walked through.

Walking there takes long enough, long enough to forget that you left most of your stuff on the desk in the corner. A vague idea tells you that you’re going underground: mostly because you had been taking many steps down rather than up, and also because of the musty smell that is sticking onto the walls surrounding you. Cellars always look old but you’re willing to have a debate over this cellar being older than a few centuries. 

You want to ask Cyan how long there was left and how many more steps in the staircase, you have no idea where you’re headed and the eerie feeling seems to double itself with each step further. You stop yourself from asking though: you don’t consider yourself as a six-year-old who continuously asks his parents when the car ride is finally over. You purse your lips as you hold the question even if that means you have to breathe through your nose.

“We’re here” Cyan announces after coming to a halt in front of a large iron door. The door is large enough to let a giant pass if it’s not for the obvious fact that it’s closed. Your own steps stop as well, aligning perfectly next to Cyan’s. From up close, the door is heavily decorated by different elegant shapes. Yet, there’s no keyhole that indicates the requirement of the longitudinal grooves. The door is a masterpiece, it seems like it belongs in a museum more than as an actual door underground. “Won’t you open it?” you ask Cyan quietly, only tearing your eyes from the door to see when Cyan would open the door. 

Cyan’s first response is to shake her head as a sign that she’s not going to open the door for you, in response to that, you let out a huff of annoyance and disappointment. How are you supposed to get in when the librarian doesn’t even want to open the goddamn door for you, it’s not like you know a secret way through. “You have to open it, darling,” Cyan says when she notices that you’re not amused, by far, you look irritated. 

“How am I supposed to do that?!” You ask loudly, drawing a long sigh from your mouth as it was another feature that you weren’t prepared for. You set another step closer to the door, not looking back at Cyan because you don’t care if she follows you or not. You’re not a magician like your friend Kun is, you’re clumsy and still didn’t figure out how to do the magic trick with the glasses that he always shows you. “Hocus pocus!” Leaves your lips before you can stop it from happening, whether it is for the laughs or for the deadly-serious expression on your lips, it doesn’t matter as the door doesn’t bother to react.

The string of magic spells leaves your lips, at once, calling out each one you know and unmagically cast them onto the iron door. Yet, none of them have the intention to pull the handle down and open the door for you. Cyan can’t be any more amused, but she is aware that you would still be here for hours if she leaves you to cast these spells. “Opening the door is like opening a new world for yourself,” Cyan tells you in a quiet voice, just loud enough to overpower your voice that casts the last spell you know. The hint is amateur level, even you find the answer within a minute. 

You swallow away the bundle of nerves that want to spread in your stomach. What you are about to say can, either way, be foolery or the start of something unidentified. Just like Cyan mentioned, opening the door is like opening a new world, and you are ready to be a part of it. 

"Ecru"

「 ᴀᴢᴜʀᴇ  : # ꜰ0ꜰꜰꜰꜰ 」

When you wake up from accidentally falling asleep with your head buried between a formal-worded book, you hear the large doors closing themselves slowly, and you guess you must have missed the moment they opened due to your tiredness. The non-rhythmic footsteps are unrecognisable but there must be only one person that has unlimited access to this place, Cyan. Your guess is confirmed when you hear her voice telling you: "you look tired.”

“I’ve been looking through these books for nearly three hours” you answer with a deep sigh leaving your lips, your fingertip tiredly points to the large pile of books of which you only managed to read one in those three long hours. But that one book is enough to make it seem like you read everything in this entire underground library. 

Cyan let out a quiet hum at your words, stepping closer to you with the same unstable sound of her footsteps on the floor. “That’s why I decided to get some coffee for you, you slept for over an hour,” she says in a sweet tone as the cup of coffee is delivered to the moon-shaped table you sit at. A small smile coats your lips thanks to Cyan’s sweet gesture, and you know your non-verbal message has been delivered when she smiles back at you. Every now and then she would deliver coffee to you, you didn’t even ask for it, she would disappear at random times and return with a cup of coffee for you. Your inner coffee addict was happy with that.

"Did you find out anything new?” Cyan asks as she has her eyes on you and one hand placed on the pile of books like she’s trying to suck the magic out of them. That thought is one you dismiss soon, you can expect a lot but that beats all of the other ridiculous thoughts you had. You reluctantly shake your head in response, hesitating because you had found many amazing things but you doubted if they were useful. “I guess so, but at the same time, I don’t think so. I don’t understand any of the words in the book” you admit, your eyes still reading over some of the words.

The book gets pulled from under your elbows by Cyan who takes it between her two hands as she begins to read at the point where you left off before falling asleep. “You’re reading the wrong book. I told you to follow your heart and choose a book based on that, not on an interesting title” she immediately scolds you for choosing what you did, she read less than a sentence but it’s enough for her to know that this book isn’t going to give you the answers you need.

"I don’t know how to, it’s harder than you think” you complain with a deep sigh, putting the cup of coffee down on the porcelain saucer before looking up at the elder librarian. “How am I supposed to know what my heart wants?” you ask, the question sounding both genuine but also mocking. You don’t believe in letting your heart decide which book to take, if it was true, you would be reading an easy and understandable book that wasn’t part of this underground library’s catalogue. 

Cyan closes the book and can’t help but sigh just like you did a second ago, she sounds disappointed even if she doesn’t use any words to confirm the feeling. It’s not an uncommon thing for people to choose the wrong book, everyone at least does so one time, especially when they judge by the cover. But after years of sneakily doing this, Cyan had a steady set of expectations from humanity, especially those looking for a soulmate. 

“y/n. Think about your soulmate, close your eyes and let your soulmate pick the book for you. Listen to your heart, it’s commissioned by your soulmate” Cyan says in an overly sweet and soft tone, dropping the thick book on top of the others as a sign all of them were useless in your story. You admire her for the way she says the words because you wish it’s as easy as it sounds, but, you hate the words because it’s not as easy as that. How is your soulmate going to recommend you a book if he doesn’t even know about your existence? 

Your phone vibrates steadily next to the pile of useless books, even though the moon-shaped table is in front of you, you huff because you are too lazy to lean forward and take the device in your hands. For an unknown reason, you flag your phone as an unnecessary accessory down here: there is no WiFi and you don’t expect anything from the phone reception. But clearly, your phones proves you wrong when it vibrates a second time. 

You lean forward and pick up the phone from the book-filled desk, finally giving it some screentime and giving yourself some��‘me-time’ as you would always name it. The lockscreen gives away the time, but you only have eyes for the notification of your best friend Sicheng. You feel bothered that he messages you, it wouldn’t be bothering if you weren’t in this almost-enchanting library.

Sicheng [ 2 : 35 pm ] : I found some more daisies around, plucked them and they're in front of your door

Sicheng [2 : 35 pm ] : sorry for wasting one the other day, I didn't know they would mean so much to you ):)

You can't help but smile soft, a certain feeling of warmth spreading through your tiniest veins and dropping once they reach your heart. It's obvious that Sicheng feels sorry for what he did to the daisy, and he must think that you’re not answering the door because of that.

It is a fact that you hadn’t been speaking to him since the day in the park, not because you were angry -as you weren’t -, but because you isolated yourself in the library after he advised you to. Sicheng was someone you couldn’t be angry at, he was soft but also because he had given you a little push onto an unknown path. You were still walking on the path he pushed you on, however, he isn’t walking on that same path and you feel bad about it. 

“Will you not write a message back to him, darling?” Cyan asks you as she notices the way you can only stare at the messages you received, and your fingers are resting on the edges of the screen rather than the keyboard that is waiting for you to send a message back. Your eyes stay on the screen, they never break eye-contact from the messages, not even when Cyan asks your attention by questioning you. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I think he thinks I’m angry because he took one of the daisies and showed me how to play the game” you explain to Cyan. She can see your facial expression growing bluer as you think about it. 

“But you’re not angry. So make him bloom again, his smile is precious to the world” Cyan says before you can continue telling the story with even more details, she is aware of the things that happen but still listens when you tell her the story about the little daisy. 

y/n [ 2 : 39 pm ] : just as much as you mean to me, you're a precious bean x

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Apparently, and without warning, you're not the only soulmate-searching human in the world. The first time you realise it's simply because Cyan decides to tell you one minute before a girl that's also looking for her soulmate walks in, the time after you notice it's before the iron-grated door opens itself after receiving the name of a chosen colour. You're never facing the door but you're still able to hear how many different voices there are and how many times the door opened itself.

Three free moon-shaped tables are moving away from the centre of the library, each one getting closer to one of the bookshelves but simply so that everyone has bits of privacy in the process of finding their soulmate. Your table was right in front of a bookshelf already: probably because Cyan thought it was needed for a beginner to receive lots of written knowledge.

Among the variety of people around in the underground library, no one looks familiar to you. You don't meet eyes with them but you can put the blame on the fact that their noses are buried between antiquated books. Even those who are already familiar with one another, don't waste more time than the few seconds a small greeting takes up, simply because they're too disciplined. It makes you feel awkward, as you're too new to step up and introduce yourself to the hardworking set of people.

Silence fills the room to the brim, leaving only the furniture to take up the rest of the space. The only sound you hear is quiet breathing and when a slightly moist fingertip tries to turn the page of one of the books. Whilst everyone is busy with the literate, you are not. The books on your table are shut, still labelled as useless ever since Cyan said that they had no value in your story. But you can't bring yourself to figure out which one your heart wants, or which one your soulmate would recommend to you. Cyan probably was right, but that doesn't tell you how you should find the answer to the question, nor how to find the right book.

You stand up from the decorative stool, trying not to make any noises which you succeed in as you can easily slip off the piece of furniture. You let go of a breath that you had been holding in but it's even quieter than your footsteps as they approach the nearest bookshelf. It's only a few steps before your feet come to a halt in front of it and your eyes take over to complete the next task.

Your eyes stare at all of the books that you find yourself in front of, it's a lot to take in with all of the different colours and letters coming to you at once. Unknown writers and complicated book titles, but as Cyan said, you try not to judge the book by who wrote it or how interesting the title sounds. Society just got you adapted to thinking difficult was always the right choice when it came to literature.

It's like you're standing at an intersection of choices, but there are more than four choices, and perhaps there's only one right option amongst the hundreds of possibilities. Fortunately for you, you can't see how insecure your back looks from this angle: others see the way your shoulders carry a responsibility but they also remember how they had been at the exact same spot not long ago.

"You don't know which book to take?" A voice asks you, the male voice making you spin on your heels immediately just to politely face whoever was speaking to you. The man in front of you has a sweet smile on his lips, you immediately notice that once you look up to his face. The sweet smile tries to indicate that he's being friendly but also gives away that he's happy. You can't help but wonder if he's close to finding his soulmate.

You sigh softly, a monologue that you have been participating in a lot more these past days. Sometimes you sigh because you're frustrated by this endless hunt for answers, other times it's because you feel like you should give up and move on, and other times you do it because you just don't know. The thing you don't know is also hidden behind something you don't know, even though that doesn't really make sense to you. "No, I can't seem to figure out which book is mine" you answer honestly.

"That's totally fine, we all started at this point,"  He tells you, never stopping the smile from hovering over his lips. You realise that maybe out of experience, he's willing to help you more than Cyan is, or at least his advice could help you more than Cyan's vague instructions. "You indeed have to let your soulmate pick the book for you, but there's a catch to it all. The things you think you've researched outside of this library are the things you have to research here again. You're not looking for what a soulmate is, but who your soulmate is."

You're obligated to admit, the words make you think more clearly than Cyan's do. Cyan's words leave you to sleepless nights of wondering what they mean, the words of this man make you think twice and you already know what’s expected of you. Specifically, the last bit of words are what stick to your body and follow you behind even now that you're still standing in front of him.

You're not looking for what a soulmate is, but who your soulmate is.

"There's no right or wrong definition to soulmates, everyone describes it differently. But you have to focus on the things you experienced and find the meaning behind them, after that you can connect them to your special person" He says, the explanation seems never-ending but you willingly accept every single word that leaves his lips right now. The scowl from earlier turns into a grateful smile, you are genuine about the gesture as you feel helped by what he offered you. "Thank you…" you say to him, hesitating to end your sentence as you wish you are able to say the name, but you can't say things you don't know of.

He lets out a tiny laugh as he realises he had been stupid enough to help you before asking whether you need it, and without politely introducing himself, but he's used to helping everyone here now that he's so close to meeting his soulmate. "I'm Johnny, the one who usually helps others around here" He introduces himself, clearly it's not the first time that he does this but you had already figured that out the moment he gave you some useful advice. "I'm y/n, I guess I'm new here. Almost like a high school student on the first day of the first year."

Johnny can't help but let out a soft laugh at the latter part of your introduction, simply because he said something along the lines of that back when he was the youngest of the group here. In a matter of months or even weeks, that position drastically changed. "Everyone is like that at the start, but some new people will join sooner or later. Before you know it, you will be helping them as I helped you."

The words - just like before - stick onto your brain, luckily not onto your heart like his other set of words did. You break the eye-contact with him to instead stare at the many books waiting on the shelves, hoping that magically your soulmate would make one of them fall in the palm of your hand. But it's not as simple as that: your soulmate won't connect the dots for you, it's you who has to do that and your soulmate might create a shape out of it.

With a soft sigh, your eyes flutter themselves shut to get into a moment of peace. It's the scenery of the park that always does the trick for you: it's calming despite knowing there is a life-altering meaning behind it. The tree engulfs you between its branches, and you're safe under the oak with the daisies by your side. The daisies where the book showed you a ritual named "effeuiller la marguerite" of. But it's the tree that keeps you from harm, that invites you to come back over and over again.

It takes a few seconds to remember the scientific classification Cyan gave you, as she probably read it in the same book that you read on that day. Nonetheless, the Quercus dentata unconsciously became a part of the baseline information of which you thought you had it organised. But Johnny was right: you had to focus on things you experienced.

The daimyo oak that engulfs you in its branches seems to want to tell you something, it's an enchanting moment even though it's only a daydream that you find yourself getting lost in. The information that it gives you is purely its existence, yet it's linked to the existence of your soulmate too.

You tilt your head as you have the impression that someone is walking up to you with slow steps, yet it's like that because your heart tells you to live in the moment. The footsteps don't look like Cyan's unstable pace of steps, and on top of that, it's more like a manly figure which you notice by his legs and shoes. It's vague but the individual details will together give you a clear view, layer per layer.

Despite the fact that you're aware it's not Cyan walking up to you, you can't imagine someone else doing so and you have no other option but already think of the outstanding features that strike the starring role in your daydreams. You start to get twitchy with each step the person takes closer to you: it's an eerie feeling that you don't know what to think of. It's a daydream that you're living in, but it all seems a bit too real to be just a dream during the early hours of the evening.

In your daydream, you close your eyes, in hopes that when you open them, you won't be able to see anything but the peaceful scenery around you. Yet, luck isn't always by your side and for once, that's a good thing. You open your eyes and immediately met up with a pair of soft-sentimental-looking eyes. They're brown, in a shade that could be defined by the world's most cherished colour of brown.

"You coloured my heart ecru"

「 ɢʜᴏꜱᴛᴡʜɪᴛᴇ # ꜰ8ꜰ8ꜰꜰ 」

Blank-faced, you look up from the syllables that form a term together, your eyes are slow to react to the sound that triggers your other senses easily. The iron door creaks open as slow as your eyes focus on it, but you're quick to give up the hope that you're going to be the only one in the library tonight. Cyan's voice is quiet but still gets louder with every step she takes inside the library, symbolically taking the young man under her protective wings as he walks into the library after her.

The thick book closes as your elbow moves from between the two separated parts, but it goes unnoticed as your eyes are drawn to Cyan's new -victim- soulmate. A rare warmth spreads around the room and circles him like it's his aura presenting him, he's the young lad your existence softens for.

"I assume this is the library you've been looking for" Cyan announces to the stranger as she smiles at his sudden humbleness. His hands fold together politely as his feet are tightly pressed together to only take up one tile out of the hundreds that embrace him. "A little disclaimer before the library overwhelms you with useless information: pluck the book your heart chooses for you, it's commissioned by your soulmate."

You can see the expression change on his face, there's a universal set of facial expressions of emotion, and surprise seems to be one of the six universal possibilities right now. He doesn't show any of the critical signals aside from the arch that his eyebrows form into. "How do they tell me which book?" He asks once the surprise makes space for an emotion that you can't read so well.

"It just happens, Jungwoo. It might take some time but they will naturally come to you"

With the useless piece of advice, Cyan decides she has given him enough to leave him to his task. She walks away from the new test-subject and moves to a set of books that the others left behind a few hours ago. You can still recognise the cover of the book that Johnny had been reading earlier, and the book Ley read about life after meeting your soulmate. The two of them were awfully close to meeting their soulmates, with Johnny already knowing what the name of his soulmate was. Unlike you: you only possessed of the birth date of your soulmate.

When Cyan's footsteps are the only ones you can hear, your head slightly turns to the side to see around the room and catch the stranger standing on the same tile as before. He seems glued to the tile, the tips of his Nike-branded shoes rub over one another in an attempt to soothe himself, but it only shows how unfamiliar he is with the situation. You can't blame him, you had been like that too not long ago.

"You should sit if you want to" you break the uncomfortable, nearly timed, sound of Cyan's footsteps against the floor. The sound moves to a layer in the background as your voice is now the centre of attention combined with the presence of the young man.

You don't expect an answer to your words as it was a mere offer. But the silence makes your voice fade out instantaneously. One layer less, another chance for silence to fill the room like it did when you were sitting here alone. The stranger can only nod in response, clearly feeling shy when his feet shuffle to the moon-shaped table that is diagonal of yours. He quietly lowers his body and takes a seat on the low stool.

Unfortunately for the stranger, you don't have a lot of time to make him feel at ease in the library. It's self-discipline, something you badly need when you're isolated in this place for almost ten hours and that six days a week. There's more than enough work to do, and much like exams, distractions only cause more harm than help.

Your book is still closed on your desk, a result of getting distraught by Cyan and the stranger bursting into the library not long ago. Soon you notice what happened to your book and let out a tiny curse to yourself, your hands working quickly to open the book again. It's a hard task to find the exact page you left off at: any page between the numbers two hundred nineteen and six hundred eighty would be the one you read last. You know you're to blame for this, not Cyan, not the newbie. More discipline wouldn't be a bad idea.

Your fingertips tumble over each page hastily, starting at page two hundred nineteen to continue browsing over every page that follows after that. If you see the word you read last, you know which page it is, but to do that, you still have to turn each page until your eyes encounter the word. Now that you think of it, you don't even remember which word it was, but hope to retrieve it soon.

On the other side of the library, there are ten fingertips that aren't actively browsing from page to page in a book. Rather than browsing in a book, they're tapping onto the moon-shaped table continuously. It's a composition of instrumentless and voiceless music, a song you never heard, but you don't prefer having to hear it twice.

"I'm sorry but can you stop? I'm trying to focus" you announce in a questioning way, not losing the politeness in your voice as it almost sounds like it's only an option for him to quit. Luckily, he does as you expect of him, causing his fingers to tremble from the sudden lack of stress-relief. "Sorry," he says in a soft tone, sending an apologetic smile your way but the innocence in his voice already causes you to forgive him. "I guess I was trying to call out to my soulmate or something," he says, not holding back the snippet of laughter that nervously bubbles from his lips.

You don't know why your lips curve up into a smile at his lame joke, perhaps because it's amusing to see someone being nervous about being here. Now you now why Cyan works in this library, she can laugh at people's stupidity on a daily basis. You still remember how entertained she was when you said numerous spells to the door when you only had to say the colour you picked out to open the door.

"It's okay" you say back to him and smile, but you notice from the look on his face that he's filled to the brim with nerves. "You must be nervous" you suggest, giving him the opportunity to open up if that's what he needs right now. You, like no one else, are aware of the unfavourable feelings that the soulmate context brings along. After days, you still don't have a label to paste on the feelings from back then, simply because you still don't know what to feel now either. "I am. One of my friends already met his soulmate, and my parents are soulmates too. They suggested for me to visit this place as they said not everyone can find their soulmate randomly" he explains even if he doesn't state the reason why he's so nervous. Perhaps the pressure is the reason: pressured to find his special person because his friend did and his parents obviously did too.

You nod at his explanation, making sure he knows that you're listening, but you don't interrupt as you want to hear how he feels. His story reminds you of Sicheng who made you believe even more than you perhaps did before. Whether you were a believer or not, is something you don't remember because you simply didn't think about it that often. Perhaps you were a believer, or one of the more sceptical people, or you could have been a non-believer. Whatever you were, it didn't matter anymore, you are a believer now.

"My name is Jungwoo by the way," He says before you can respond to his explanation, he probably saw your facial expression as you were trying to form a correct answer and also didn't feel like telling you an uninteresting story of how he found out someone was his soulmate. To say it easily, the subject changed.

"I'm y/n"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

It's twenty-five to eleven when you take the small steps to reach the street again, spinning on your heel to see Jungwoo sliding down the railing that separates the stairs evenly.

The sight makes you clasp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to silence the laugh that threatens to leave your lips. But only after you see Jungwoo losing his balance unexpectedly which causes his little playful moment to come to an end a little too soon. His feet stumble over the last two steps of the stairs before his body bumps against yours with full speed.

Not by speed, but by force, your body is dragged backwards and you almost hit the floor with a shocked Jungwoo in your arms. But before that happens, his fast reflexes are able to catch himself and you before the unfortunate event takes place. Yet, it doesn't stop the two pairs of feet from trying to find balance on the evenly divided ground.

"I'm sorry" Jungwoo immediately apologises as he makes sure your two feet can find balance without his arms holding you up, but the mere distance between your bodies causes his own feet to be unstable. It's a feeling he needs to shake off, his soulmate is somewhere waiting for him, and your soulmate must be waiting for you somewhere as well. "I was just trying to make you laugh, not fall"

"But I didn't fall, and I had a good laugh. Trust me, I had more fun in those seconds than in the past days" you admit easily to Jungwoo, it's the downside of being isolated in an underground library, but hopefully not a future consequence of looking for your soulmate. "Ah" is the only thing that slips past Jungwoo's lips at your response, it leaves both of you in a communal cloud of wondering what to say to not make it any more uneasy.

You simultaneously look into the same direction when a flower-shaped shadow seems to dwindle down from a large tree. "Did you see that?" You ask as confusion spreads over your face, your eyes torn between looking at Jungwoo or the shadow that slowly disappears once it hits the ground. The soft landing must have taken the silhouette to blend their shades into one.

"Sorry?" Jungwoo asks as he looks at you again, his head tilted to the left as he tries to find the reason behind your confusion. The beanie that refrains his hair from moving too much doesn't prevent his bangs from moving in the same direction as his head.

The reaction leaves you speechless and stumbling over your own words before you even say them, "the flower. A daisy just fell from that tree," you say as you point upwards to the large creation of nature. Jungwoo's eyes can't help but follow your fingers up to the leaves of the tree, he can't see the colour of them in the darkness, but daisies are absent in the almost-chromatic view.

"I don't see anything" he responds to your words as he tries to make his eyes work harder, but no matter how much he squints, the enlarged view shows a total lack of flowers in the tree, especially daisies.

Tiredness is clearly ruling a position as CEO while you're only a personal assistant for the feeling. "I'm tired, I bet it was something else or my eyes are just clowning around" you mumble in disappointment when you realise Jungwoo is right. When you look at the tree again, you don't see any daisies, and you become aware that daisies don't commonly fall from trees that aren't specific daisy trees.

"Sounds like you should go home" Jungwoo mumbles to you, letting a soft smile coat his lips and you're sure your clumsiness has been forgotten unless he's planning on teasing you with it for the upcoming time. It's something you see him capable of as earlier, he had a good laugh about a writer's odd name. But the soft smile that displays on his lips makes you trust him not to tease too much.

"I think I will" you confirm Jungwoo's suggestion, trying to give him a similar soft-looking smile in return, but you're too tired to control the muscles that make the gesture possible. Like a stereotypical teenager from a sappy romance, Jungwoo hides his large hands in his jeans pockets. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

Your response is a soft hum before you confirm it with your words. "I'm here every day, most of the day. So expect to see me a lot" you answer his question.

"I'll look forward to it" Jungwoo quickly tells you, the genuine tone in his voice refraining you from walking away without saying goodbye.

An hour later and you find yourself tucked in a thin sheet that is supposed to keep your body heat at a stable temperature for the rest of the night. Though, it's not the sheet that keeps your body at a pleasant temperature, but rather the little train of comforting thoughts that rides around in your mind.

From the little moments of laughter you shared with Jungwoo, to the sweet brown eyes of your soulmate that you continuously gaze into whenever you close your own.

It makes you feel warm inside

Your eyes - as they usually are when you're in bed - are closed as you want to go over all of the little big things of today. Yet, by now, you should know that it's a task you won't be able to fulfill.

While the colour is sometimes considered dull, the brown colour of his eyes seem to create other feelings. Feelings of warmth and wholesomeness as you gaze into them. The green palette of the park surrounds the two of you and you can feel the trunk of the Quercus dentata against your back.

"Don't pluck me daisies. Just make me be your flower"

「 ᴡʜɪᴛᴇꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ # ꜰ5ꜰ5ꜰ5 」

"I don't understand what else I have to find out, Cyan" you breathe out as you drop the heavy-weighted book on top of some others that you had been scanning through for the past four and a half hours. Another two hundred seventy minutes wasted, and yes, wasted was the right word to use for all the time you spent in the library so far.

Cyan easily notices the high level of pressure, she already noticed when you first made your entrance of the day. "What do you mean by that?" She asks you as she tries to lift her body to sit on the side of the moon-shaped table but eventually just leans against it before accidents happen. "I already found out I have to play a game with the daisies, and my soulmate's birthday is February nineteen. What else do I have to find out?"

The way you say your words makes it easy for Cyan to see through them and bump into a big lump of exhaustion. It's a price many people pay but at the same time no one asked them to pay the fee, it's something people do to themselves because they're so desperate to claim someone to be theirs. You're no different from anyone when it comes to that, no one is any different. At least humans have one thing in common even though it doesn't make them less unique.

"Potentially, you could look for your soulmate"

A scowl coats your entire facial expression, your muscles doing work without you having to ask about it. You open your mouth to speak up but silence yourself from the string of curses and confusion that blend together to a feeling called bitterness.

"What?" You ask as you wish to get rid of your confusion, you swallow the curses you want to throw at her. You shouldn't curse at her, seeing that aside from her vague way of phrasing things, she's a blessing. The bitter feeling on the tip of your tongue is something you want to out but just like tastebuds, they stay in their place for you to enjoy the lingering bitterness a bit more. "You mean I've been here 24/7 for nothing?" you ask her, quick to hold her back because you receive a vague answer to your surprised exclaim, but even if this time your question is unmistakable, you still expect a similar answer.

"Darling," Cyan is about to continue but you hold up your hand in aim for her to stop. You know where her "darling" leads you in life. And that destination is non-existent.

Despite your tries to stop, she doesn't. "Listen to me y/n. You can go out and find your soulmate right now, no one ever told you to stay inside the library. If you know how to find your soulmate, go for it"

Now, that is something Cyan doesn't need to tell you twice. Instead of cursing at you, you now want to hug her tightly and press numerous pecks to her cheek to thank her. It's something you don't do though, but you could if you follow your current happy hunch.

It's the isolation that took a toll on your well-being and affected your way of coping with different emotions and situations. Before you entered this enchanted place, you were as sweet as a strawberry but now that you were allowed to leave, you walked out as a bitter cranberry that was kept in the fridge for one day too long.

"Are you serious?" You just want to hear her say the words once more, confirm that it was what she truly said before. You expect yourself to run out of the library within an instant, but your feet are attached to the tile as you wait for her to repeat the words once more.

She doesn't repeat the words once more, she simply nods and drifts off before you're able to stop her from doing so. Your eyes follow every movement she makes in the direction of another door and disappears behind it before you're able to see what is behind that door.

With your feet securely attached to the tiled-floor, you had no other option but to awkwardly stay still for at least sixty seconds. Your thoughts go blank at you look around the library.

Jungwoo is still sitting where he usually sits, his head buried between a book while his right hand is holding a pen in case he has to make notes. There is a white pair of earbuds in his ear so you assume or hope that he didn't hear the exclamations you made during the conversation with Cyan.

Generally, things aren't any more filled or less empty as they usually are. If anything misses, it's the presence of the other soulmate-searching humans. Today there's no Johnny, Ley, Isabelle, Donghyuck or any of the others that would usually be around at this hour of the day. You're aware they don't come every day, but you're so used to their presence filling up the ancient space even if they constantly read.

Your feet take you a step backwards, going towards the door to head outside. It's too early to celebrate that you can finally leave this antiquated hellhole because there's a hint of truth in Cyan's words, and you fear not being able to come back once you leave permanently.

"I'm going to go out for some air" you announce to no one in particular, it's not like anyone is available to you, but you still feel like telling so that Cyan and Jungwoo both know that you'll be back in a matter of minutes. You mean to see that Jungwoo nods, but realise soon that he's only bobbing his head along to a pop song.

You spin around and take the silence as an opportunity to leave for a few minutes, it doesn't have to be long, just some time to properly think and put everything on a non-organised timeline in your head. The iron door closes as you take your leave and follow the stairs up, right now they seem to lead to temporary freedom.

Once you're outside, it seems like you haven't seen the world in more than a year, even if it's been a matter of days, not even enough to make a sum that ends in enough days for a month. You have no idea what time it is until you look up at the sky and imagine this must be what the sky looks like when it's afternoon.

Your freedom only lasts for a minute, before you know it, you're claimed by whoever is making your phone vibrate in your back pocket. How did you even forget about the little device you used to be obsessed with?

Your hand slips in your pocket, clutching the phone between your parted fingertips before pulling it out of the pocket. It's only a matter of seconds before the phone is facing you with a bright screen, revealing that it's not just a text message but that someone is calling you.

Called ID is no other than your best friend Sicheng, and you waste no time in picking up the phone to hear what he has to say. You breathe into the speaker without realising that you do, already looking forward to hearing a voice other than Cyan's.

"y/n? Are you okay?" Sicheng asks, hiding a cough because he thinks he disturbed you in a heated moment, yet that's far from what is going on right now. "I am, sorry" you quickly say, regaining control over yourself to not pull such weird stunts once again. The last thing you want is Sicheng to think about your bed-activities.

"I've been trying to call you for the past two hours now, but it never went through" Sicheng breathes out himself but it's a sigh of relief that he finally gets to talk to you. He's not the type to call, so he must have been in a state of distress when he wasn't able to reach you. "I was busy, sorry" you apologise once more to him.

Sicheng sighs for the second time, it's another exhale of pure relief. "I have to talk to you, do you have time? It's important," he says before you're able to ask why he called you non-stop for the past two hours. You opt to nod but after a few seconds, realise that he can't see it. Normally he's next to you but now you're hearing his voice through the phone so he can't see you, and you can't see him.

"Of course, I have time" you answer Sicheng as you try to speak in a comforting tone, not aware of what Sicheng is about to say but it already sounds like it's something serious. "What is it?" you ask when your eyes don't pick up any response, no sound, nix.

"It's about the daisies"

You are all eyes and ears once he mentions the little flowers that have become so precious to you. Your eyes even glance to the spot where you thought you saw a daisy dwindling a couple of days ago, back when Jungwoo must have labelled you as lunatic.

"What about the daisies?" you ask back carefully, your hand fumbling with the edge of your shirt as your heartbeat picks up the pace. Through your veins spread nothing but fear, because deep in your heart you know exactly what happened to the white-coloured flowers.

"How long has it been since you were in the park?"

The question doesn't take you by surprise but it makes your nerves build up even more. The pit in your stomach now seems to take up al available space and even then, it only seems to grow bigger and bigger. Your mind has to dig through countless of book pages to get to the asked piece of information: when was the last time you had been in the park?

"A few days ago?" you answer in a questioning tone, admitting the words take you by surprise. It gives you time to reflect on yourself: how you abandoned the park for the library, and the real tree for a fantasia daydream of it. All of that for your soulmate, even if it's your own fault.

Sicheng hears how unsure you are by the underlying tone in your voice, it gives away that you're either way insecure or scared. He opts for the second one: it obviously wasn't going to be good news if he had been trying to reach you for over two hours just to happily talk about your visits to the park. "I was there today, y/n."

"And?" you impatiently urge for him to continue speaking before you properly processed the words that he went to the park. It's nerve-wracking to wait until he finally speaks up, even if you doubt that you want to hear what he has to say.

Nix.

"The daisies are gone, someone plucked them off. Only some stems are left"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

When you wished for freedom, you didn't wish for the four daisies to be plucked away from you.

Your fingers dig through the grass in an attempt to find remains of the daisies, or find new barely-blooming daisies. You run your fingers through the cold grass multiple times, your eyes observing between the blades of grass to hopefully encounter something.

Sadly, you have to conclude that everything is gone, aside from the stems that are hidden between the grass. Clearly, the non-beautiful pieces were left even if they were critical to the white-yellow-coloured flower. There is a torn piece of a white petal laying in the depths of the grass, and you grieve over it.

Tears are endangering the soft and dry skin fo your cheeks, but the wet tears stay hidden in the corners of your eyes for as long as you're strong enough to hold them back. "Why?"

You don't get a response to your question, simply because you're not asking anyone, and no one is around you to answer. You know it's a question you can answer for yourself, and there is only one answer possible: you're the one to blame.

The blame is put on yourself, for various and valid reasons. For starters, you abandoned the park to spend your time in a library where books guide your feelings instead of your heart. Second, you were the person that wished for freedom and it heavily affected your chances to ever meet your soulmate in this life.

The combination of thoughts trigger the tears and they take their chance to slowly roll down your cheeks in grief. You feel your cheeks getting wet with remains of sadness, regret and grief. Before the first one falls onto the green grass, another one already rushes out and follows the wet trail.

You want to close your eyes and disappear from reality, but you don't allow yourself to see your soulmate's soft orbs when you close your own. Instead, you can only stare at what should have been the flowers guiding you as you walked on the path to your soulmate.

Whatever there is left to grasp, you grasp between your fingertips. You pull pieces of grass from the earth in the process of taking the leftover stems from their designated growing space.

When you stand up from your kneeled position, you faintly notice that the jeans fabric that covers your knees became a mixed colour of green and brown: the colours of grass and dirt. But the discoloured jeans are the least of your concerns right now.

With the stems of the daisies tightly clutched in your fist, you leave the daimyo oak alone by running out of the park. There's only one place you can go, and only one person that can tell you what to do: Cyan.

Your feet had never been this fast whilst running to the library, nor had your eyes done an effort of this kind to make sure you didn't bump into fellow humans or objects. That was one less disappointment for you to worry about. You had no idea for how long you ran when you finally arrived at the library, it seemed to have taken hours but in reality, it must have been a matter of minutes.

"Ecru" leaves you lips before you run through the barely-opened door to get inside the library. You look around frantically, searching for Cyan but you can only see Jungwoo who is still studying whatever he got to know about his soulmate.

Your feet skip over the large tiles as you march over to Jungwoo, trying to be understanding but you pull at the cord of his earbuds so that at least one of them falls from his ear. His lips are parted in surprise and it takes him a second to turn his head and realise that it's you who did it.

"Where is Cyan?"

Jungwoo doesn't answer your question immediately, causing you to only get more anxious. Tears start to rapidly flow down your cheeks, they do it gracefully but the sight looks far from that in third-person view.

"Why are you crying?" Jungwoo asks you worriedly, grasping your arm in an attempt to pull you into a comforting hug. But your trembling hands don't allow it, yet, they're too weak to stay together to protect whatever is left of the little daisies.

The remains sadly fall to the floor, descending from between your fingertips and onto the cold tiles. Your eyes meet Jungwoo's momentarily but as soon as you become aware of the emptiness in your hands, your blurry vision shifts to your hands, and towards the floor.

One droplet, two droplets and still flowing. Falling on the sadly fallen flower stems and petals.

"They plucked my daisies" you croak out in a broken voice, staring at the floor where the faint green colour becomes the eye-catcher of the scenery. Your blurry vision leaves you with nothing but hues, you can't even recognise the shape of a stem in the little heap that was on the floor.

You still feel the stems falling from between your fingers even though you're left empty-handed.

"Your daisies?" Jungwoo asks as he stares at the floor as well. His vision clear enough to see blades of grass, mixed with a couple of while petals and next to them some more greenery that he can't particularly name because they look the same as grass but a different texture. It's the little petal that makes him realise what you mean when you say the word 'daisies' but it still doesn't click in his mind.

His hand awkwardly moves towards you as you continue to sadly drop your tears over the greenery, his hand is reaching towards your back but pulls back in hesitation.

Before Jungwoo is able to make up his mind about the right way of comforting you, your name is called by Cyan who almost spurts from the hidden room within the library. She marches over to you with quick and heavy steps until she's right in front of you.

"y/n, what's wrong?" Cyan asks as her foot hovers over the stems unnoticeably, her hands move to your shoulders to make looking into your eyes possible. Her hands instantly straighten your shoulders but your eyes never leave the stems that are now crushed by a pair of elderly-woman shoes. You don't have the guts to say anything about it, if anything, it makes you realise that your chance to meet your soulmate is crushed.

"My daisies" you start to say but you can't finish off what you said so far. The daisies were the only living organism that mattered to you aside from your soulmate, and now, both of those were lost. Your arms that limply hang from your body bring a movement to your index finger, merely pointing down to where Cyan is standing. The effort goes by unnoticed, even by yourself.

"Your daisies?" Cyan inquires but the tears that freely run down your cheeks give away the answer before you even have to tell her what's going on. Better than you know, she is aware of your task and aware of the five daisies that led you to your soulmate. She doesn't judge even if she knows, she listens.

You nod your head, hiccuping due to the lump of sadness that is stuck in your throat. "Someone plucked my daisies and now they are gone."

Cyan's hands that had been on your shoulders, rapidly move to the back of your head as she pulls your body against her own. Her lips part as she wants to say everything will be okay any upcoming day, but that sadly wasn't the truth, nor would you believe it if she said that.

"Look at me," she tells you, once again holding onto your shoulders as she distances your bodies. Your tear-filled eyes are slow to react and ignorant as you can barely focus them on her. "This doesn't mean the end, y/n. I'm going to help you look for a way to make this right."

You want to trust her, you really do. But you can't bring yourself to put a grain of trust in her words because they seem unrealistic, just like everything else that is happening in this library.

"y/n," she says your name effortlessly because she knows you're listening even if you are not willing to. "I'm going to help you. Together we can still find your soulmate" she tells you, just the same words as earlier but with different words and phrases.

You take her hands away from your shoulders and shake your head in response. Your earlier wish for freedom becomes the wish to never remember any of the things that happened, a wish for the daimyo oak to permanently and magically disappear from the park so that you never have to look back at it again.

"Sorry Cyan," You say to her, the words hide the exact phrase that you're giving up or you've already given up at this point. Once more, your eyes meet the floor in sadness.

A virgin-white petal stares at you from its position on the floor, it's as damaged as your heart is, yet, its condition doesn't make you feel less lonely. You bend down, not caring if both Cyan and Jungwoo are staring at you whilst you grieve over the lost and broken petals.

Your fingertip reaches out for the petal, carefully lifting it as it rests on your fingertip.

You have to decide if you're going to wilt like a daisy or if you're just going to go forward and live the life that you've been granted

「 ʙᴇɪɢᴇ # ꜰ5ꜰ5ᴅᴄ 」

Your fingertip caresses the outline of the daisy that is printed on the spine of the book, your finger lifting slightly when it comes across one of the raised bands in the middle of the spine. It's useless to open the book but you can't help it, you open the book until the gutter is steady enough to separate the two parts.

Another illustration of a daisy stares back at you as you observe it, it's the anatomy of a daisy, something you surely knew by head at this point. Why did you still remember it even when you would never be able to use the knowledge?

Your heart hurts, almost symbolically sinks when your thumb tumbles over a few chapters, a new page greeting you with the uses of a daisy. Your eyes follow the different uses: culinary when its young leaves are between other edible greenery in a salad, herbal medicine when their juice is extracted to heal wounds, soulmate when it's destined that a person looks for an object of affection through the French game effeuiller la marguerite.

You swallow away the lump of sentiment in the back of your throat, trying not to gaze upon the infamous word, but you read out the word silently at least five times, once for every flower you abandoned in the park. Your thumb moves to the corner of the page, over the page number in hopes to skip over the page.

Yet, two minutes later, your eyes still read over the words while your thumb is frozen upon the digits that you don't want to change. It's like you're sentimentally obsessed, a bad consequence of not being able to say goodbye before your grieving process began.

Donghyuck who has been studying a book about dreams -as he has been dreaming about his soulmate and still would dream about them until the day they would meet one another -, stands up from his stool as he sees you lurking around the bookshelves in distress and grief.

"Are you alright, y/n?" he asks with a caring smile on his lips, you miss the sight because your eyes are endlessly pasted on the page of the book. At first, you only nod in response before muttering out a quiet, "yes."

Donghyuck shakes his head, his hand pulling on the top edge of the book to take it from your tight grip. "Focus on me for a few seconds, please. I know you're not alright," he says as he manages to conquer your weak grip, receiving the book between his hands even if it was never your intention for it to end up in his hands.

"I don't want to talk," You say as you look at Donghyuck but only momentarily, not allowing him to look at your tear-filled eyes for longer than a handful of seconds. You lower your head, facing the floor and mistakably see the green hue of the stems even when the floor is clean and only matte in its own dark-blue colouration.

"I know," Donghyuck responds, his hands gently put away the book on the nearby bookshelf before he takes your hands in his to hold. "But you can't give up now, your soulmate is waiting somewhere for you. Are you going to give all of that up because of the daisies?"

Even if you don't want to listen to what he has to say - because you've heard the same words at least twenty times in the past week - you can't help but listen to every word and consider it in the depths of your mind. "I know," you answer to his words but leave his question unanswered.

Yes, you are going to give up the progress you made because your daisies are plucked away. There is no reason for you to continue the search of your object of affection just to please your inner-soulmate personality or dreams. The longer you think about it, the more doubts you start to have with everything that has happened. No one could change your mind thus far: not Johnny who came by to say he met his soulmate, not Émilie that took your seat the times she was there, not Cyan who tried her hardest to be a positivist in this situation.

"Don't give up yet," Donghyuck said as he looked at you, a sad smile coating his lips because he felt emotional by just the sight and thought. If he were to lose the one thing that could lead him to his soulmate, he would have given up too, perhaps even earlier than you did. "You still have the daimyo oak in the park right? Please don't give up so soon."

You don't plan on replying to Donghyuck's endless pleading about you giving up, but a response is not anticipated anymore when the noise of the iron doors opening suddenly interrupts the conversation. All heads turn to the door, even yours is quick to react by giving all of your focus to the door instead of the melancholic-looking floor.

You catch a glimpse of who is running out of the door before it slowly starts to close again.

Black-haired Jungwoo who had been dressed in his usual jeans with nothing but a simple shirt to dress him up casually for the daily library visits. The white Converse-branded shoes on his feet take him out of the library as fast as his feet allow him to go. Walking is not even an option, he is running.

"What is going on?" Donghyuck and you simultaneously blurt out when seeing the young boy run out like his life is depending on it. Even when the iron-grated door slowly closes again, your eyes don't recolate, too astonished by the sudden unexplained and unexpected situation.

Cyan slowly steps forward towards the door as she sees it closing, she carries a smile on her lips as she knows exactly what is going on. She glances proudly at the closed doors, her eyes slowly blinking as her imagination is prepared to show her what is going to follow next. "His soulmate," she answers shortly, giving you and Donghyuck a soft look "flowers are blooming on his path, he must know the way."

The words leave you and Donghyuck clueless, but it's the smile displayed on her lips that make you the most confused that you have been in a while. You have the perception that Jungwoo found his soulmate, or at least is one step further than he was last week.

As you feel your heart breaking, you experience happiness that Jungwoo found his soulmate.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The minute hand ticks around the clock twice, it signals four times in two hours: when a new hour is announced and when that same hour passed halfway already.

One hundred sixty-six minutes pass by on the clock, you don't count any of the minutes but you're aware enough of the time each time you take a small glance. Due to the observing skill, it's not hard to count how many minutes pass by.

The minute hand is about to move a millimetre under your watching eyes, but you get distraught by the sound of the door opening. It can only be one person, the person everyone waited for: the person Donghyuck and you stayed longer for, the person Cyan dropped her work for.

Jungwoo appears inside again with a jubilant smile coating his lips, he looks like he won a singing contest but is out of breath due to the timeworn use of his voice. He breathes deeply as the doors close, giving him a cool breeze even though his body feels too warm to get cooled off.

"y/n," he starts immediately as his steps approach you, his pace fast but the rhythm in his footsteps are off due to the running back and forth he did. Twelve steps further, he stops when he is only two steps away from making physical contact with you.

You stay silent as you're taken by surprise, surprised by the sudden unexpected scenario that is yet to unfold right in front of your eyes. Speechless, even after a few seconds, you still can't utter out a response.

"I was in the park," Jungwoo says as he notices your silence, his breathing faintly coating a layer of warmth on your cheeks due to the condensation. His hand reaches out to yours gently, running only the pad of his thumb over the skin of your hand. "In the park?" you ask him soft, your expression brightening by a whisker, but it's enough for Jungwoo to see the changes.

"I was in the park" He repeats again, his other four fingertips slowly embracing yours until he is properly holding your hand in his. Your hand is trembling in anticipation or fear, for whatever is about to leave his lips next.

You nod in response, urging for him to continue speaking, you want to pull the words out of his mind so that you can hear them sooner, but realise he must have seen something unforeseen. "I went to the park for you, because I heard you talking about the Daimyo oak. So I immediately left and went there, and under the tree was a daisy."

A daisy. Those are the only two words you process out of all of the words he said. It's quiet when you try to once again process and accept what he said, your imagination running wild over the thought of one single daisy blooming under the oak, giving you another chance to meet your soulmate.

"Are you for real?" you ask as a smile slowly creeps onto your lips, your lips desire to curve upwards but you don't let them because your heart doesn't want to be harmed in case it was only a sick joke on your grieving process.

Jungwoo excitedly bobs his head up and down as a yes, he's excited but at the same time he has never been so serious about something before, he's torn with what way to bring over the news to you in order for you to believe it. But the young man can't contain the positivity that streamed through his veins when under the Daimyo oak, he saw a tiny daisy growing.

"You have to get to the park," Donghyuck says with a bright smile, Jungwoo's excitement clearly getting transferred to Donghyuck because he's unable to control the happy expression on his face. His eyes shift to Jungwoo and then back to you, not even considering Cyan who has been standing with you as well. "Go!"

Cyan clears her throat before you can do as Donghyuck says, it doesn't stop you from taking a step towards the door but does stop you from running out of the library to check if a daisy is really growing in the spot where the other four had been plucked away. She calls your name to make you turn towards her, which you do as you become aware that she wants to say something.

"Don't let it get plucked away again," She starts saying in a serious tone, almost strict as this might truly be the last chance you have to find your soulmate. You react by nodding your head, not giving her words attention, nor do you use your own words to reply to her.

It turns out to be Donghyuck who triggers you into ignoring Cyan "go!" he shouts and in reaction to that, you take off running. You exchange the library for the outside world again, this time not for freedom, but for your soulmate who might have given you one last chance.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Desire is like a storm. Things get broken

There is a quote saying "where flowers bloom, so does hope."

Hope bloomed in the depths of your heart as you ran all the way from the library to the park, running over the grass instead of the path just to get there a few seconds faster. From afar you weren't able to see if your tree engulfed a little blooming daisy.

But once you came closer, close enough to observe small-scaled details. One thing you're not able to observe is the growth of a little miracle in the grass.

Green is the only colour that paints the grass-filled space underneath the tree, you're not colour-blind, as no petals nor disks stare at you as you stare down in search for them. There are no daisies growing, peeking from out of the grass to grow even taller than the green blades.

"Where is the daisy?" you ask yourself quietly as you glance around your aura, circling around like a clock but it's useless. Nothing is growing, nor blooming, aside from the pain in your heart, even though you're embraced by the branches of the Daimyo oak.

Your view lowers itself another notch, this time in disappointment as there is nothing more to observe. Whether Jungwoo played a joke on you, or the flower got plucked away between the time that you and Jungwoo separately observed here, is something that doesn't matter. It's not Jungwoo's fault, nor is it the tree's that didn't protect its fellow natural miracle. It's your fault, you couldn't even live life as a natural flower, you bloomed like an artificial flower.

「 ꜰʟᴏʀᴀʟᴡʜɪᴛᴇ # ꜰꜰꜰᴀꜰ0 」

Your slouched shoulders effortlessly moved along with the natural movement as soon as you sigh, the walls seem to tighten after you let out the sigh. You feel closed in but the walls are so far away, it feels like you are left alone in a place you don't recognise anymore.

The physical sensation you feel when you sigh makes it clear that you're heartbroken, if not any feeling that is even worse than heartbreak. Even though heartbreak is the excellent word to use right now, broken not by your soulmate, but by yourself.

There's a hot cup in your hands, hot from the heat of the beverage, but it doesn't warm up your cold fingertips, nor does your heart feel warm by the little source of heat.

Less than one week ago, your days still felt enchanted. Filled to the upper brim with magic of the unexplained. Your warm beverage had tasted like the loveliest love potion, and you had willingly drunk every sip until the last drop fell on your tongue.

Each day was different but no less magical, if anything, each day that passed was more magical than the other. The twenty-four hours in a day resembled one step towards your soulmate, thus you walked the path for countless hours, and got one step closer to the promised land with each day that appeared on the calendar.

Dull. Days no longer felt magical or enchanted. Days were endlessly filled with dullness: every twenty-four hours, all one thousand four hundred forty hours, and the many seconds you could convert it to but that would fall into more depressive thoughts about never being able to walk the path.

Flowers had wilted on the path, blooming was something that wouldn't occur again. It was one of a kind opportunity to see the path filled with flowers. Unforgettable. Now you're doomed to walk on the same path and notice how the shades of reality coloured life but left the wilted flowers monochrome.

"ecru"

The word is hidden behind the muffled scoff that you let out but you can hear yourself saying the words. You don't expect a large door to grant you access to a library this time, if anything, you wish for something grander. Whether your grand wish has something to do with your soulmate is something you don't even know: you wish to meet him but at the same time you wish to forget everything that happened. Even though you're sitting in your own home, you hope that you can forget the past weeks and return home. A world without Daimyo oak and daisies.

Next to the post-it note where the term of the colour is scribbled down on, is your phone that has been endlessly occupied with its buzzing indications. It's something you opted to ignore for the past forty minutes even though the buzzing is more bothersome than the person who is spamming you with possible supportive messages.

You let out a soft sigh when the buzzing finally comes to a halt for longer than five seconds, you can't see it yourself but a sense of relief is washing over your facial expression, coating the sadness momentarily.

Now that the obnoxious buzzing isn't filling your eardrums, you feel tempted to pick up the phone and look at the messages, perhaps even force yourself to reply to some of them. Your temptation is hard to neglect, and within a span of nine seconds, the phone moves from the table into your hand.

The plain lockscreen of a professionally photographed scenery makes you think negatively about the way people see reality, it's them that see all of the nice colours while in reality, things are as coloured as you make them, and you're not planning on continuing your life with a pair of ecru-coloured glasses sugarcoating the world.

You're about to press the button to make your screen go black but get reminded of the many notifications because of the little border that restricts you from seeing the full picture on the screen. You take a second to stare at all of them: not individually even if multiple messages and useless emails have been displayed there, the global look seems to be your concept for picking who is important enough to reply to.

One name catches your attention, a name that you put in your contacts but never received a message from, nor ever sent a message to him: Kim Jungwoo.

Jungwoo [ 9 : 59 am ] : please reply, Cyan said that you shouldn't let the daisy get plucked away

The message makes you press the screen multiple times, once to say you want to read the message and twice to confirm to your phone that opening the messaging app is all you want at this moment. The coloured lockscreen disappears from your sight, instead, you're greeted with at least a dozen of one-sided messages, waiting for a response from you.

You scroll up lightly, until the moment your screen nearly hits the top of the saved conversation. Intensely, you read them word by word even though minutes ago, you swore you became a non-believer

Jungwoo [ 9 : 10 am ] : are you awake? There's something I need to say

Jungwoo [ 9 : 31 am ] : the daisy is under the oak in the park

Jungwoo [ 9 : 31 am ] : please believe me this time, I swear it's there

Jungwoo [ 9 : 46 am ] : let me go to the park with you, I'll show you

Jungwoo [ 9 : 48 am ] : please believe me. This oak is my birth flower and I believe in the magic that it would grant you a daisy because it did. I swear the daisy is there

Jungwoo [ 9 : 50 am ] : I'm staying here until you reply

Even though it was a waste of time, you still read the remaining seven messages to yourself, they all said the same, they all told you to reply or get your ass to the park as fast as possible. Another element that returned in more than half of the messages: the daisy.

Your feet are steadily placed on the floor, your legs seem to make it a forceful feeling like you're preparing to start running a marathon any second now. Indeed, you are ready for takeoff whenever the last straw triggers you into doing so. There's only one destination, one path, one marathon trail and that leads you straight to the park.

But it's your mind that runs a different marathon and prevents you from putting stupid thoughts into action, your mind endlessly avoids both of the paths there are: to go or not to go. You have enough reasons not to, seeing last time there hadn't been a daisy. If there is a reason to go, it's for your soulmate.

There is nothing you can lose by going, or at least that's what your heart tells you to tone down the loudness of your mind's unsteady footsteps. Plus you still trust Jungwoo, despite him being incorrect about the daisy last time, but you convince yourself that he stood under the wrong tree…

"The wrong tree?" You question the words you tried to convince yourself of, it's a thought that didn't cross your mind before but he had never explicitly said the Daimyo oak was his birth flower. It meant that he wouldn't be able to choose the wrong tree, there was only one Daimyo oak in the park, and apparently, it was accompanied by one daisy.

Jungwoo [ 10 : 13 ] : please come to the park

The buzz from the phone almost went through your veins, triggering you into the takeoff you had expected. Without responding to the text, you put the phone in your pocket as you got up from your chair.

Left your house, door wide open, heaven knows.

The daisy is so worth it, it is.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The unbuttoned grey trenchcoat that Jungwoo is wearing immediately pulls your attention, almost no one could pull off being so tall and make a trenchcoat look shorter than it proportionally was. Yet, it is the pure-looking facial features that bring the small sign of happiness to your lips.

"Finally!" He breathes out as you take the last few steps towards him, removing his hands from the 'storm' pockets to immediately run them through his black haircut instead. His body is filled with healthy tension and perhaps fear as well, because he badly wants you to believe him, after all, he had been speaking the truth all this time.

"How long have you been here?" You ask worriedly as you imagine him being here for way longer than you might realise, especially when you think about the forty minutes that he begged for you to come to the park. Jungwoo shrugs in response but there's a mischievous smile that tells you everything you need to know, "not too long".

As you look at Jungwoo, the Daimyo oak seems to naturally catch your attention by being as tall as it is. You don't need to tell the black-haired boy in front of you about the oak, nor about your newly-found excitement and hope about the daisy because Jungwoo can almost feel your emotions spreading through the many veins in his body.

"Oh!" Jungwoo reminds himself when he remembers why the mischievous smile was on his lips and the reason why he had been waiting here at the park for over an hour. "You have to come and look at the daisy," he said as his hand leaves his hair and immediately reaches out for your hand.

It would have looked like him dragging you along if it weren't for your own fast-paced footsteps that match Jungwoo's as you march towards the oak. You stay quiet as you anticipate the appearance of a little daisy, but Jungwoo can only let out a happy sound that almost sounds like a giggle.

You heard those happy giggles before, years ago, when your friends played "loves me, loves me not" with the daisies in the park and you wonder if soon you will be the giggly person because there is someone who answered you positively. You might not be at the appropriate age to giggle about such things, but better late than never. And when you're old: nostalgia is nostalgia, no matter at which age you were giggly over a lover you met through a game of loves me, loves me not.

Your feet move slightly faster than Jungwoo's when you're only a few steps away from being under what seems like your safe haven. Jungwoo takes it as a sign and slowly lets go of your hand, stopping his feet from moving before he's able to step into your safe bubble.

His eyes follow every movement you make, his eyes shining with happiness for you but he feels a little piece of his heart hiding the feelings that he isn't supposed to feel. He doesn't want to feel as okay as he feels, he wants to tear up but something tells him it's okay to be okay. His thoughts take him to fragments of time: when he saw you laugh or when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, all of the times he can look back on with his honest heart that stays hidden for the outside world.

"Jungwoo?"

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he doesn't need to move his head to be able to see you as he had been staring at you and the scenery unknowingly. Nervously, his hand itches the back of his neck but still doesn't get the hint that something is expected from him.

"There is no daisy," You tell him even if it is too quiet for him to hear it, you only hear yourself say the words. You wish you were in a phase of denial, a phase where your mind will sugarcoat the sad story with something untrue and non-realistic. "There is no daisy!"

The second time the words leave your lips, Jungwoo can clearly hear what you said. "What do you mean?" Jungwoo asks incoherently, confusion fills his mind but he can't see anything because you're standing in front of the spot where he saw the daisy before.

His lips part slightly to speak but nothing comes out, he swore he saw the daisy here before you were here, and the time when you didn't show up at all as well. There was only one flower so how would he be mistaken so much? His breathing is stuck in his throat from the bundle of nerves that block the way.

With heavy - almost plumbum-feeling - feet he drags himself under your safe haven and his birth tree. Just like all the times before this one, he feels a sense of warmth engulfing him like the tree is holding protective branches around his body and above his head.

His feet come to a halt right next to you, like an anchor sinking to the depths of the sea, he stranded to this particular spot and isn't able to move another step. He moves his head to the right slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of the green grass that should surround the white flower. "The daisy," Jungwoo exclaims in a whisper as there are no white petals of which the colour deviates with the green of the grass.

Geen madeliefje

"y/n," Jungwoo starts anxiously as he placed his hand on your shoulder, the grip barely non-existent as the happiness from before is replaced with a heap of other mixed feelings. He feels sad for you, he truly does, on the other hand, he can't help but feel blank and empty now that there is no flower that grants your wish to find your soulmate.

Your lower lip nearly trembles as you hold it back from parting to yell at the world, yell at Jungwoo for once again saying he saw a daisy while there is no daisy waiting for you. It bothers you more how his warm and comforting hand is placed upon your shoulder.

"Jungwoo," you repeat his name as he said yours, the difference is found in the tone: whereas he sounded anxious, you sound broken. It's a symbolical thing but Jungwoo can almost hear your heart breaking in pieces when you say his name like that, even though, your heart would never react in any form or shape when saying his name.

Your body turns to him, causing his hand to limply drop to where it is supposed to be next to his body. Your eyes are closed but you find the courage to slowly open them to look at Jungwoo, you hope disappointment isn't the blinding emotion in them because you try to keep it hidden.

"It's okay, thank you for trying," You say in a soft tone, curving your lips into a smile but the corners stay as tight at they are now, not even moving the tiniest inch because you keep them in tone. "I'm sorry, I really thought I saw a daisy here," Jungwoo noiselessly admits, his eyes non-stop going between you and the spot where he saw the flower blooming.

You look at him to meet his eyes, knowing you can believe him when he says that, and you want him to know that you believe him but at the same time that you're disappointed in yourself for allowing the situation to get out of hand. The brown eyes seem familiar, a little too familiar as you swear you've been staring into them every time you close your eyes.

Jungwoo tilts his head as you look into his eyes, confused by the sudden change in your non-verbal attitude even though he unknowingly feels the same emotions as you do. The more you stare at him, the further his head tilts as he continues to gaze back.

Something as tiny as a snowflake appears in front of your visions, Jungwoo sees it as it dwindles down in front of your eyes, you can see it peacefully falling from his hair and onto his grey trenchcoat. Your eyes want to shift to the sky but you're stopped by the colour contrast going on in Jungwoo's hair.

White petals elegantly rest on the black strands of hair and a single minuscule daisy is trapped between the locks of his bangs. The white petals contrast against his black hair and the yellow-coloured disk makes the look wholesome. Disbelief spreads through your body, causing your eyes to widen as you try to make sense of the situation.

"There is a daisy in your hair, Jungwoo," you whisper nervously as your fingertip points towards the non-artificial flower in his hair. The sight makes your heart beat faster: a nearly adoring feeling spreading from your heart into your tiniest bloodstream.

You're standing under Jungwoo's birth flower, the Daimyo oak. While you're standing there: you are looking for a daisy to find your soulmate with and Jungwoo is next to you with multiple petals in his hair and one daisy to complete the look.

"In my hair?" Jungwoo asks as he uses his hand to almost comb through his hair, causing a few of the petals to fall from his hair and onto his fabric-covered shoulders. He feels the softness of the petals under his fingertips and can almost feel his quickened heartbeat in the tips of his fingers with each touch he leaves onto the petals.

You don't have to conclude, it's premade and there's only one possibility. Jungwoo is your soulmate.

Saying the words out loud isn't something beefed, by the time the conclusion is given to you, Jungwoo already has a bright smile on his lips. Smiling like a flower receiving a bit of sunlight to grow towards, smiling like a person who just found his soulmate.

His gaze is locked with yours, staring at one another as the droplets of reality sink in. The brief silence that follows is as tender as a rainstorm of daisies.

"It's you," you whisper to break the silence, your eyes endlessly locked on your soulmate who can't help but mirror your actions because he's stunned. A smile breaks through your facial expression as the last sigh finally pushes past your lips.

The flower in your heart was blooming and you could feel the effect it had on you. The person that you had fun with and cried with, the person you motivated into searching for his soulmate. He was your object of affection.

Jungwoo slowly nods even if he is still trying to grasp the situation with both hands, his fingertips slip from reality and dip into the ecru world he unconsciously chose for when Cyan told him to choose a colour. "It's me, " he says in a soft tone, a nervous chuckle slipping from his lips as his ecru world no longer seems divergent from reality.

Under the embrace of the tree, Jungwoo reached his arms out to you and within seconds engulfed you in his arms. His arms felt warm and sincere, feeling the desperation by the strong grip he had on you.

Your eyes were closed, as were Jungwoo's, almost overly used to the vague image of one another. But the heartfelt moment keeps you in reality, the freshly-bloomed love between two soulmates.

"Their desire was silent yet magnificent, like a thousand daisies attuning their faces toward the path of the sun"

「 ᴇᴄʀᴜ # ꜰᴀꜰ0ᴇ6 」

The chorus of your alarm needlessly plays its tune to wake you up, it's only on the bedside table so you have no trouble in reaching out your arm and pressing your index finger onto anything that feels like a phone screen. It's a Sunday morning, a day of only domestic softness and time for loved ones.

"Why did you set your alarm?" You hear the voice next to you question out loud even if it only sounds like a mumble, the slight chilliness makes everything sound louder than it truly is. The sheets even produce slight sounds as Jungwoo turns his body to you, pulling your body against his until there is no space for gaps to breathe. "I have no idea," you mumble in response, your heart relaxing after being awoken by the music.

It's too late to fall into slumber again and you would rather spend your time looking at your soulmate, Kim Jungwoo. You slowly turn your body around until you're facing him and smile once you see his somewhat swollen cheeks from laying on them all night. "Stop."

You let out a small laugh at Jungwoo's simple request for you to stop staring at him, his voice makes it sound effortlessly adorable and from that, you conclude that he must be happy with the specific way of affection you're giving him. Still, you don't follow his request and stare at him for a few seconds longer: giving him your coloured eyes full of admiration and love.

"You're still doing it, flower ~" Jungwoo sings almost impossibly high, his morning voice straining his throat which results in him letting out a small cough. After giving your boyfriend a worried look, you let out a hum as you know you've been caught in the act.

"Gotta admire it before it gets plucked away"

Jungwoo scoffs in response to your words, his fingertips pressing onto your skin like it is a sign that he wouldn't get plucked away and wouldn't let you get plucked from his life either. It's a soft feeling on your warm skin, his fingertips caress protectively. "I won't get plucked away," Jungwoo says to ease your mind a bit from the worries, he can imagine the thoughts that go through your mind on this lovely Sunday morning "but you'll have to water me every day," he whispers against the shell of your ear, hoping to hear you laugh at those words.

It is not the joke that makes you laugh, it is not the dirty undertone of the words, but it is Jungwoo simply being himself that makes the smile return to your lips. Worries fade like the moon does in the sky who temporarily exchanges his position so that the sun can make flowers grow a little more towards the light.

"Was that supposed to sound as dirty as it did?" You ask him as you can finally find the laughter in his words and you seize the opportunity to make this morning a good one. Jungwoo's facial expression deadpans but it's noticeable that he's trying to bite the corners of his lips with the intention keep them on the thin verge of curving upwards. "Nope," he says, his lips pressed together but laughter breaks the non-existent glue between his bottom- and lower- lip.

"I don't believe you, look into my eyes and say again that those words were not meant to sound dirty," you request from him as you get yourself comfortable on the free space of his pillow, making it easier to look into the homely-brown pair of eyes. Which he does: his eyes travel from the exposed skin near your chest, up to your lips and into your eyes. "Those words were not supposed to sound dirty, your interpretation was wrong… but I guess you just think about sex often," he teases.

In disbelief, you playfully roll your eyes at what you've been told about yourself, by none other than your own soulmate. "You think so? I think you should go out for a walk and reflect on who has the dirtiest mind here," you suggest, using the same playfulness from when you rolled your eyes.

Jungwoo's laugh fills the room, ringing decibels louder than your alarm did before you were awake. But the sound is music to your ears: it's the perfect song, played at a loud volume that it deserves to get played on because everyone should hear his laugh. Seconds after he started, his laugh slowly dies down as his lips gaze towards your lips again.

"Maybe it's me," he admits in a serious tone as his lips copy yours unconsciously, making slow movements like yours as you part your lips to respond to his words. His serious tone doesn't make you laugh but it still sounds strangely sincere, perhaps because his mind did shift to a sexier setting once he saw your lips moving like they usually did.

Once you catch up with his newly-found interest for your lips, you also catch up with his confession of why he is the one with the dirtiest mind between the two of you. You become aware of your lips being the centre of attention and play along at the moment by biting the right corner of your lower lip. "I bet it is".

Jungwoo huffs when he realises your teases are not a coincidence, nor an accident. But he's quick-witted and pulls your body on top of his without hesitation: giving you no other option but to once again look into his brown eyes. His expression is unreadable: he doesn't look like he's playing around anymore, but the same softness is still displayed in the depths of his orbs.

He puckers his lips and pouts them upwards, getting more and more desperate until he finally reaches your soft lips with his own. The kiss that he initiates is soft for the first few seconds and he can feel your smiling lips against his out of happiness.

Soon his lips start to move against yours, the kiss getting more heated as you notice his body is yearning for certain touches and that special kind of affection. Energy and excitement mix together and spread through his limbs and even his lips get affected by it: his lips that were moving against yours slowly lower themselves in a trail filled with open-mouthed kisses. He doesn't stop until the moment he kisses the side of your exposed neck, the kisses finally arrived at the planned destination.

The soft breath you let out as reaction only makes Jungwoo press more kisses in your neck, knowing by the reaction that they make your morning a little more pleasurable. His unoccupied hands trail to your hips, keeping you still before you can even start to make slow grinding motions on top of him, his fingertips squeeze your covered skin whilst his imagination starts running wild.

"Is it not too early for this?" you ask soft as your head lulls to one side, allowing his kisses to take up more space and press on the more sensitive spots of your skin. A hum leaves Jungwoo's lips and you feel the vibrations of his hum against your throat "it's never too early for this," he whispers against your skin, placing another kiss down before he pulls away from you.

Jungwoo sits up on his knees and rids himself of his layers of nightwear: the shirt that covers his skin and the pair of sweatpants that hide the hairs on his legs. His boxers are tightly covering the crotch area and it only gets worse as he winds himself up over the thought of your body. Once he's undressed, he gapes at you as you do the same he did seconds ago. Your shirt is discarded and your shorts soon join to coat the floor with a layer of fabric.

"Look at you," he whispers as he smiles at the sight of you bare, it's not just naked, it's bare and outside of that, it's beautiful. More beautiful than watching blooming flowers in the park but he shouldn't pluck petals, he only waters them so that they grow.

After taking in the sight of your body once more, he leans down to your abdomen and runs his fingertips over every little bump of your skin, every soft little patch and every rough one too. When he reaches the waistband of your underwear, he loops his fingers through them and starts to remove them in a teasingly slow manner: first an inch on the left, then only half an inch on the right. The fabric feels smooth as it runs over your legs but it's his fingers that provide warmth.

Your underwear soon joins the little heap of discarded clothes on the floor, you opt to look at where it lands out of habit but Jungwoo pays no attention to the piece of clothing.

Unlike your previous position, Jungwoo now hovers over you instead. His lips press kisses over every spot of your skin: what you expected to be a heated moment of not-so-delicate touches ends up being a moment where his lips caress over your skin with adoration.

"I love you so much," he whispers to you, his lips pressing against your earlobe to give a tiny kiss there before his loving path continues down your body. Your response follows minutes later when his lips have almost reached the lower part of your stomach but you're simply in bliss due to these soft petal-like kisses. "I love you too," you whisper back to him, sucking in some fresh air but it results in your mouth allowing a quiet moan to slip out.

The way his soft lips press kisses against your sensitive skin makes the moment last longer, it makes you more impatient for more but you're enjoying the slow pace towards a possible love-filled morning. His lips press together on the smooth path of your inner thigh: giving both sides an equal amount of kisses but teasingly kisses towards your sensitive areas more.

"I want to make love to you," Jungwoo mumbles against your smooth skin, his warm breathing reflecting on his cheeks that start to feel slightly damp but he doesn't care. "Can I?"

Luckily he looks up at you when he's asking the question, he sees you nod almost right after he says the words. A smile changes his current appearance and he looks even softer than he did a few minutes ago, you wonder how it's even possible that he looks even more soft and loving.

"Yes?" he asks as you don't reply to his words by actually saying something, even if he is content with the nod, he still wants to hear your voice and have your consent. "Yes," you breathe out, repeating his words without the questioning hue.

He sits up slightly, straightening his back as he is admiring you for a few seconds. His impatient hand runs over the many spots that have been touched by his lips before, it's a teasing trail full of little twists and minimal touches that leave you wanting more. His index finger reaches the most anticipated spot once his trail has been hiked.

"Sex is the seed and love is the flower"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Jungwoo hides your hand together with his in the sleeves of his trenchcoat, even though the warmth is provided by the sun, you feel more warmth from his - unnecessary - gesture.

The colour palette that is used to create the scenery of the park comes into view, and you can't help but smile as if you're seeing it for the first time in your life. It's like an ancient painting in a museum, you have seen it on the internet but never in real life, but in reality, it's just been long enough for you to forget the many shades of nature.

Almost six months ago, this would have looked like the stereotypical scenery but minds change, and views change too. From afar you can see the green grass and some white collectables of which you know that they are daisies, they fill the grass like butterflies fill your stomach each time you look at Jungwoo.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Jungwoo asks as he notices the smile on your lips and the way your eyes are trying to catch a glimpse of the park that suddenly isn't as far away anymore. He knows why you smile, but he still asks because he is delighted to hear the story being told from scratch. The story is the book his soulmate picked out for him and his heart willingly read every page.

"Because the park," you respond to him as your eyes shortly move to him but you don't want to lose sight of the real-life painting in front of you, you don't want it to get plucked away. Jungwoo looks away from you to look at the same piece of art, getting lost in the familiarity that sparks a collectibles in his mind.  

The world seems strangely different, the painting seems strangely different despite its familiar setting. The only thing that stays the same is the love between you and Jungwoo as you walk hand-in-hand towards the park. It's only a few seconds away, ten to be exact, nine if you pick up the pace a bit.

Jungwoo's feet halt before he's about to step on the grass field, not because it's something not everyone appreciates, but because his eyes observe why the world seems strangely different. You don't seem to notice yet, your sight is blinded by the colour ecru and you're not aware that the effect might wear off soon.

"y/n"

Your attention goes to your boyfriend again, the scenery that you've been vaguely looking at is replaced by the sight of two very surprised eyes. You hum in response as you continue to look at him, not questioning his look until he mentions it himself, which you're positive of that he will.

"W-where's the oak?" He asks as he looks at you before his eyes drift back to the missing piece of nature in the center of the park, he can see the tree in his imagination but notices its absence when he dips into the river of real life. He thickly swallows even though his throat is waterless.

Your head moves a few degrees to the right as you can only look at your boyfriend, "huh," you ask him as you eye him with your confused orbs.

"The oak," Jungwoo says in a more steady tone even though he has to keep himself steady, for some reason his long legs seem ready to give out any second. His hand untangles itself from yours to point towards the place where he met his soulmate, under a tree that was no longer there, but he was, and you were too.

Your eyes follow his fingertip until you can't see his finger in your eye-width anymore. The greenery of the park doesn't state it but your eyes officially discover the absence of the familiar oak: Jungwoo's birth tree, the tree where you found your soulmate under, the tree where daisies dwindled upon your shoulders once Jungwoo leaned towards you to hold you for the first time.

The memories are close in your embrace but you're no longer held by the tree that made all of those memories possible.  You lower your head, noticing the vague image of little daisies that are spread out all over the field, endlessly gracing every few inches with their appearance.

"Did it get plucked away?" Jungwoo asks soft as his voice almost stops cooperating, he's filled with confusion and emotions, his mind going over at least ninety-nine scenarios and he loses you in every single one of them. His hand is close to yours and he takes the opportunity to hold you tight before - just like the four daisies, and the oak - you get plucked away.

From the uninhabited space in the park, your eyes go to the movements on the little pathway of the park. A pair of unsteady footsteps shuffle over the stone-filled ground but they come to an abrupt stop when she bumps into a young man: as she stumbles back a notch, a smile coats her lips. As the young man helps her by placing his hand on her upper arm, you can see the bright colour of her eyes. Cyan, that's the exact term to the colour of her intoxicating eyes.

"Pick a colour," you read the words that fall from her lips and you can't help but mouth them in relay one second after she does. It's a familiar phrase and you even taste the remains of the colour you picked on your lips: it's a soft shade with a not-so-matching name.

Ecru.

The word effortlessly brings a smile to your lips: it's the colour of your soul and the colour of Jungwoo's love for you. Ecru: ecru was the colour of your world, ecru was atmosphere, ecru was the little steps on your path, ecru were tears when the path was unreadable. Ecru was and is magic.

"I don't think it did," you finally respond to Jungwoo has been looking at you until the answer fell from your lips. Your lips press a small peck onto his to ease his nerves. "We just planted the seed elsewhere, and it's blooming right now."

A U T H O R S N O T E / I N S P O 

hello, little daisies. With this, you must have reached the end of “colourized ecru,” it’s been an honor writing this. I know it’s not the best writing, not the best fic, or anything but I feel happy that I was able to finish this. For the longest time I put off writing this, even to the point where I wanted to tell the other writers that I wasn’t going to go through with the collab. But I did start writing and neatly finished the fic the day before it’s due. Thank you for reading, thank you for existing 

Inspo [music] - winner, remember ; d.o, that’s okay ; yesung, here i am ; yesung, paper umbrella (jungwoo acts in this mv if you didn’t know) ;  lee taeil ; one man (cover and yes I love taeil y’all know) ;  . . .

love, ambrosia aka moondustaeil  🌼

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. XII || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 3130

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: Guns / blood and violence

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: Chaos catches up, causing trouble for everyone involved

A/N: sorry for the slow updates, but with the event (tysm btw ily) i’ve been busy. i have a few more requests, and i promise im getting to them. anyway! feels weird, only 2 or 3 parts left. tysm for all this support <3

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

JJ woke up before you. His face felt stiff from the tears he’d shed the night before, and the corners of his eyes were filled with sleep. He rubbed his eyes, phosphenes decorating his mind as he pulled them open. The window was wide open, curtains fluttering in the light breeze and the sun decorating the room with a natural glow. He became aware of the towel thrown over the dresser and the wet clothes hanging in the window sill, the memories of last night returning. He looked down at you.

You were curled up, one of his tops and a pair of his joggers covering your body as you gripped his arm lightly in your sleep. He blinked, admiring the lock of hair falling over your face, the curve of your lashes and the relaxed smile that adorned your sleeping frame. He brushed the hair out of your face and let it fall. He realised that he was in deep. Somewhere across the room, the ping of a phone notification pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up, seeing the bluish light coming from the floor on the other side of the room. He slid his arm from your hold, careful not to wake you as you unconsciously pulled the pillow into your grip instead. He rose from the bed, careful not to let the bed creak as he left you. He padded across the room, picking up the phone from the wooden floorboards.

The phone awoke as he lifted it, a series of fresh messages lining up under the time. 

Tyler: hey

Tyler: ik i fucked up with us, but i cant stop thinking abt seeing u when u visited

Tyler: can we try again?

Tyler: ik u said u were seeing someone and dont wanna fuck it up, but i still love u

Tyler: let me know. I miss u

He almost choked, heart beating in his ears as he looked back to your sleeping frame, rising and falling with oblivious breaths. He looked back at the phone, placing it on the dresser softly. He left the room, clicking the door shut as softly as he could, and making his way to the kitchen. He rinsed a mug and put the kettle on, rummaging through the cupboards for the instant coffee granules. He pulled the silver pot from the shelf, peeling the cap off and tapping it on the side of the mug so the granules tumbled in, the dark brown contrasting the light ceramic. He poured the contents of the boiling kettle in, watching the hot water consume the granules and turn brown. He stirred and sipped, hissing as it burnt his tongue. He never had the patience to wait for it to cool down.

He studied the cupboards again, finding no edible food, not trusting the bread after his previous experience. He sipped the coffee again, allowing himself to look back at the closed bedroom door. He wanted to know what happened when you went back, but knew he wouldn’t like the answer. After last night, he knew Tyler was an asshole, and wanted more than anything to fly to California and punch him in the face, but couldn’t understand the text. Thoughts were flashing through his head, ideas rushing to his head. He wondered if he should ask, or leave it and wait for you to tell him. He knew you had no obligation to him, but he also knew that you two had something going on. Whatever that something was. He sighed. 

He thought about how he felt when he saw you smile, how much he’d spiralled after your argument, how vulnerable he was around you. It hit him suddenly, an epiphany that took all his air away but made him feel alive, made him feel broken and brilliant all in one moment. He loved you.

Down the hall, on the other side of the door, he heard the bed creak. There was a pause, and then he heard the floorboards moan. Another minute, and he heard the ping of your phone notification. There was another pause, then the door opened and you stood in front of him, hair tousled by sleep and eyes fresh. You smiled at him, reaching out and pulling him in, kissing his temple and stepping away to make your own coffee. His heart pulled, not letting him push you away and reaching out as you left his arms, but not wanting it because of those stupid texts. In that moment, he fights his impulse and decides to wait for you to tell him. Would you tell him?

He draws his attention to you, hopping back onto the counter next to you. He watched you, enamored with the way you moved, the way you brush against him, the way you seem so carefree in the moment. He wants to kiss you, but he knows he won’t until he knows what’s going on. 

Faster than he wants to admit, you’ve finished your coffees and Kie and Pope are awake, moving about after leaving their slumber on the pullout couch, and then setting up the pulley for the well. Your mood changes when they’re up. You’re more talkative, brushing over any mention of the night before, helping when you can. You look back at him a couple of times, and each time his heart flutters.

You can feel blisters working on your skin as you help Pope with the winch, the rope burning at your skin in the force of the friction, but you don’t pay it any mind. You finish with the mechanism, stepping away and sitting down next to JJ, passing some witty banter with Kie, and opening a bottle of beer, the cool glass soothing the hot skin on your palms.

“What does it feel like?” Pope asked, watching Kie as she sat in the can hanging from the pulley.

“Feels good.” she confirms, pulling the rope slightly.

“John B’s pulling a Houdini.” JJ stated, putting his own beer down.

“Yeah, where is he?” you asked.

“I got my scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope reminded, “We gotta get this done.”

“Speak of the devil!” JJ grinned as John B strode past you all without so much as a ‘hello’. “Hey! Dude, I put up the entire winch to pull up the gold and everything.”

“No he did not.” You laughed.

“We did that.” Pope said, gesturing between you.

John B ignored you, and Kie called after him as he entered the Chateau. “Okay, that’s it?” you muttered.

“What’s that all about?” Pope asked, walking to you and JJ.

“I was gonna ask you the same question.” JJ said, you and him getting off the hot tub and following him into the Chateau. When you entered, John B was pulling the house apart, searching.

“You alright, man?” Pope asked, “What’s up?”

“What are you looking for?” Kie added.

“Bro, what’s going on, man?” JJ asked, following him as he pulled the gun from under the cushioning on the sofa.

“John B, what do you need the gun for?” You and JJ stepped forwards, both reaching to take the weapon. John B grabbed your shoulders, pushing you over and shoving past JJ as you all yelled for him to chill and talk to you. Pope tried to block his exit.

“What are you, JJ, now?” Pope asked as you and Kie yelled for him to calm down. John B pushed Pope back into the table as you followed him out, asking for him to explain, or calm down. You ran down the steps, the others close behind. He mounted the dirt bike, looking back at the four of you.

“John B, what the hell?” Kie yelled.

“Ward knows about the gold.” John B spoke for the first time. “He killed my dad.”

You ran as far as the dirt track, watching the bike disappear as JJ swore.

--

“What now, we just go up to the front door and ask, ‘Hey, have you seen John B’?”

The night felt dark, cold, and your boat felt fragile next to the stupidly big boat across the pontoon from you. The shape of the Cameron house was huge and adorned with golden windows on the other side of the lawn.

“Look, he lives in Tannyhill now, it’s plausible.” Kie reasoned, but you could tell she was just grabbing at loose ends. “We can play dumb.”

“Play dumb?” you frowned.

“It’s pretty late.” Pope added.

“Look, I’ve never seen John B like that. We should honestly be going to the cops.” Kie countered.

“The cops? And say what, Kie?” you almost laughed, “‘We’re worried about our friend because he’s going off on a rampage because Ward Cameron killed Big John’? They’re not gonna believe us!”

“Hey, I see Ward.” Pope interrupted you, binoculars up as he watched the house. Kie took the binoculars, checking for herself. “Doesn’t look dead to me, let’s go home.”

“What?” Kie turned, shocked and offended.

“Uh, okay. Obviously Mr Cameron is fine, and even if John B was here, he isn’t now, okay? Plus, I have the biggest, most important moment of my life in six hours.”

“Yeah, well our friend is in trouble.”

“I’m in trouble! Guys, I haven’t been home in three days! My dad’s probably put all my shit on the street by now.”

“Okay, so that’s it? In a time of need you’re just gonna bail? You’re just gonna walk away?”

“Okay, yo, guys.” You spoke from the other side of the boat, “Can we not do this right now?”

“Hey, I have a scholarship interview in the morning.” Pope reminded Kie.

“Okay, well what about John B?” Kie asked.

“Why is it always about John B?” Pope questioned, and you sighed, looking away as Kie looked around, caught off guard.

“It’s not always about John B. You’re so stupid! It would be any of you in this situation.”

“Bullshit!”

“Guys.” JJ tried to stop them.

“This is about friendship!” Kie powered on.

“Bring it down.” said JJ.

“This is about pogues for life!”

“What about forensic pathology, huh?” countered Pope.

“Forensic pathology?” Kie scoffed.

“It’s my life! It’s everything I’ve worked for!”

“That’s your priority?”

“Would you stop with the moral high ground bullshit?”

“Pope, come on.” you cut in.

“No.” he rejected, “No, no. She has no room to talk.” You looked down, knowing you didn’t either. “Where were you when Big John went missing? You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B. You weren’t there for any of us! Remember your kook year?��

“Dude.” JJ tried, again, to stop the argument.

“Yeah, you forgot about us. Now you feel guilty.”

“Give me a break.” She pushed him, and he staggered but held his ground, you and JJ were up within seconds. “Is that what you need? You need a break? Move!”

You and JJ pulled them away from each other, shouting for them to stop, to cut it out. You held Kie’s shoulders, the both of you breathing heavily. She stared straight ahead, holding eye contact with Pope as JJ looked between them.

“If I’m the one mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom.” JJ sighed. You dropped your hands from Kie’s shoulders. She sat down as you sent Pope to the bow of the ship, sitting down as well.

“Pope, we’ll drop you off.” You said, JJ steering the boat. 

--

You sat, facing away from the group, water washing around your ankles, arms propped up on the wood as you stared at your phone. You were aware of the conversation - the gold was gone - but you weren’t really listening, or paying attention. Your mind was plagued with worries that felt trivial compared with what was going on, but still felt like the world would implode if you didn’t sort them.

Tyler was rejecting your refusals, insisting you humour him. You turned around briefly to look at JJ, who was watching you. You wondered if he had worked out that you’d slept with Tyler, even though you hadn’t mentioned it. But, of course, you hadn’t mentioned it - he couldn’t know.

You broke from your thoughts as Pope came blundering down the path. “Guys!” he halted when he reached you, and you picked your legs up, swinging around to face the group. “Oh, God, I ran all the way here.”

“How was the interview?” you asked.

“Don’t ask.”

“Promising.”

“JB, look, I’m sorry dude. About everything.”

“It’s fine.” John B disregarded.

“But - but I don’t have a lot of time, and I have information that is tactically relevant. So, before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron’s big plane. Because it was too heavy, it needed a longer landing strip to take off. So, I’m there sitting in my interview, thinking to myself, ‘Hm, why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off? What could be so heavy to weigh it down?’”

“Gold.” JJ turned.

“That’s right.” John B confirmed.

“Exactly! Guys, this is our chance, but it leaves tonight, and we have to go.”

“We can’t give up now.” Kie smiled, jumping down from where she was balanced.

“What’s the plan, big man?” JJ asked.

“We’re gonna steal that shit back.” John B stated.

You smiled, this was going to be a shit show.

--

“We go in there, guns-a-blazin’, make Ward Cameron beg for mercy, abscond with as much gold as possible, and vámanos, get the hell out of there.” JJ summed up.

“Send that shit right down the intracoastal.” John B added.

“Wait for the weather.” Kie reminded.

“Exit to Cuba.” Pope finalised.

“Cuba?” JJ sounded offended at the idea, “No, man, Xcalak, the jewel of the Yucatan. Lobsters so thick, mangoes, no word for money.”

“I like the sound of that,” you hummed, sitting up from where you lay across the back seats, “Let’s do this shit.”

The VW rattled on for a few hundred feet, John B curving into a break in the thicket, the lot of you leaping out of the car to a wire fence.

“What’s the plan?” Kie asked. “Broad strokes.”

“I don’t think we got that far.” John B admitted, Pope pulled out his binoculars.

“They’re loading up the gold.” Pope pointed out. 

John B took the binoculars, watching the scene before him. You were all pressed up to the wire fence, and you could see a car rolling up to the plane. You watched the figures exit, faintly recognisable without the binoculars. John B lowered the black instrument, Kie asking him what was going on.

“It’s Sarah.” 

You looked back at the plane. They played out like a scene in a play, little figurines moving around, until Sarah was being dragged onto the plane by the shape that must have been her father. John B disappeared from your side as the engine began to whir, loud enough to be audible from your spot behind the fence. Behind you, a car door slammed, and you shouted for your friend as he started the engine, forcing all of you to step back as he smashed through the gate, JJ’s “Don’t be a hero!” resounding in the air.

Still shouting, the four of you ran through the gap as he accelerated towards the moving plane, your shouts fracturing the air. Upon the realisation that whatever stupid, reckless thing John B was doing couldn’t be stopped, you waited in baited breath. You watched the van swerve in the plane’s path, the screech of the brakes reaching your ears. You heard and watched the second squeal as the plane halted, barely feet away from the pogue.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard the sirens.

“Guys, I can’t get arrested.” Pope spoke, breaking the shocked silence you had been standing in.

“I’m on probation.” JJ added. 

“We’re no good if we’re all in jail.” Kie confirmed, and you turned to the three of them.

“You serious?” you almost laughed.

“Y/N,” JJ started.

“Go, if you have to.” You nodded, “I’ll step in if he needs me, God knows what’ll happen.”

Kie and Pope nodded,setting off, but JJ stood. “You can’t-”

“JJ, you said yourself - you’re on probation. But they don’t know I’m here, I’ll be fine.” You smiled, stronger than you felt, “Go.”

He followed your friends, and you stepped back into the trees, the sick feeling in your stomach foreboding a turn of events. The blue and white police car was racing down the runway, and you could almost feel the panic in your friends.

You saw the Sheriff get out, and the exchange that led to Ward’s arrest. You watched her get him on the floor, gun pointed at his face, you heard a bang.

The scene froze for a second, but suddenly time sped up, the Sheriff collapsed, and there was another figure. The gun was pointed at John B. You felt yourself move forwards, but the figures were moving - Sarah’s crumpling onto the floor, Ward standing, John B’s moving to help Sheriff Peterkin. You watched Ward and the new figure. Fuck it.

“John B!” you screamed, and he looked up. He was sprinting towards you as the three Cameron’s started fighting. You jogged, the pair of you breaking into a sprint as you got to the woods, fighting your way through the thicket as more sirens joined the melee. Shots were fired, but they sounded numb to your racing mind. He was slightly ahead of you, faded hoodie flashing as you both ran flat out. Before you registered the road, the horn was honking and John B was rolling over the bonnet of a car. You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up, the pair of you running as the driver shouted for you.

You needed to find the others.

You ran for a while, slowing to a walk as you discussed where the others would be. The junkyard, you thought.

After five minutes, you stopped, forcing him to prove to you that the blood on his arms was only Peterkin’s, and that he wasn’t injured.

Somewhere above you, there was a plane. 

You were walking slowly now, approaching the junkyard. You felt numb, knowing that everything was completely different now. You turned the corner, seeing the three other pogues gathered, Pope taking a hit from JJ’s juul. Weird.

They ran to you, seeing the blood in John B’s hands and your shirt (from your attempts to check his injuries) and immediately began to panic, giving you once overs.

“Who’s blood is that?”

You all ducked behind the clutter to avoid the approaching sirens, allowing yourself a moment to breathe. You glanced at the blonde boy next to you, but as you went to speak, he turned away harshly. What the fuck?

Tags: @tangledinsparkles​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @lolitstiana​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​ @teamnick​ @thoughtsofthestars​ @obxmxybxnk​ @jjmaybankswife​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @sxcretinhuman​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @angvelics​ @badwolf00593​ @coloradogirl07​ @mendesmaybank​ @jiaraendgame​ @5am-cigarette​ @emerald-xcd​ @haharudy​

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 6/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: Maybe some strong language. Attempts at sexual situations. I did mention this was a slow burn, right? Like. Super slow burn.

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | 

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 6: Softening the Edges

November 2: Saturday

The last time Emma remembers going on a date, it was with Walsh - and while she has a feeling Killian would appreciate the LBD with a leather twist that she still owns, she’d rather not wear something that has a memory of that asshole attached.

All of the other dresses she owns are tight and short, which worked a lot better for picking up one-night-stands. None of those dresses are going to be the right ones, either, which is why they’re all still in the back of her closet.

Instead, she’s looking at the choices hanging in front of her that she unpacked while on the phone with Killian last night. One was an impulse buy from this past spring, and the other two are loaners from Ruby and Snow.

It’s noon, and there are hours to go before the date, but Emma wants this to be perfect so she diligently takes each dress off the hanger, slipping it on and assessing each option carefully before moving on to the next. 

Her timer goes off, letting her know it’s time to retrieve her laundry. Normally, all she wants to do on a Saturday is lounge around, but nerves have her going strong right now. She also wants the loft to be spotless. Just in case she has a visitor tonight, but that’s not something she’s anticipating, so to speak, but it could be. 

The way her stomach flips tells her exactly how big of a deal that actually feels like. 

Instead of dwelling on the hopeful way he invited her in for hot chocolate on Halloween, Emma focuses on her tasks. She switches out the clothes before going back to try on the last two dresses. 

It’s between a black one that Ruby lent her and a pink one she bought online, and it’s not until the latter is on her body that she decides it’s the one. It’s soft and almost fluid, and she takes a moment to turn back and forth to feel the skirts brush against her thighs. She stands in front of her mirror admiring the picture it all makes, so unlike how she dresses for work or even for a night on the town. 

Off it goes and back on the hanger, and Emma makes sure to set out the rest of what she’ll wear, finding the perfect heels to go with it before heading downstairs to clean her bathroom. 

She’s never been one for following a specific routine other than necessities, but Emma goes through her process later when she’s getting ready. It’s maybe the only time she cares about being orderly, stashing all her makeup back away when she’s finished with another whisper to herself that it’s better to be safe.

Killian texted and said he’d be there at six-thirty, and she’s just fixed the backing on her second earring when the knock comes. 

Shaking out her hands one last time, Emma swings open the door for Killian, and immediately all thoughts simple and pure fly out the window. 

Suits and ties, she’s used to. Even the waistcoats. But this look is somehow familiar yet completely new. No thoughts of offices and editors come to mind when she looks at the total picture that the black jeans and leather vest gives off. She's tempted to invite him in now, but she’s hungry and has no intention of turning Killian into one of her really bad statistics. 

Killian, meanwhile, has a look on his face that she’ll be replaying for as long as she lives. His eyes scan her from top to bottom, not in a sexual way but in stunned surprise. And yeah, because he’s used to seeing her in jeans and a leather jacket, she doesn’t blame him for the expression on his face. He finally picks his jaw up off the floor and looks her in the eye again. 

“You look stunning, Swan,” he says, the words slow to come out as he takes in her appearance. Good to know she’s knocked him off balance, as well.

“You look…” she trails off, not even knowing how to sum it up, but he saves her the trouble.

“I know,” he says, a little smug but mostly matter-of-fact. 

Her laugh is a quick exhalation, her lips turning up into a smirk before he holds out a single rose for her. It’s a small gesture, but it’s still better than any other man has done for her on a first date. Really, on any dates at all. 

“Let me pop this in water and we’ll go,” she tells him, moving quickly to the kitchen to find a vase. 

It’s only once outside that she realizes just how cold it is, and she’s glad she wore her wool coat but momentarily regrets the lack of hat. It would’ve ruined her hair but at least her ears would be warm. 

“I hope you weren’t lying about trusting me,” Killian says as he guides her to an SUV that’s idling against the curb. 

“What’s this?”

“Robin let me borrow his vehicle for the evening. He’s been helping me get used to American driving. Might be a different side of the road but I think we’ll be all right.” He opens the door for her and waits until she’s settled before closing it again. When he climbs in and closes his own door he turns to her for a moment. “I also hope a diligent law officer can turn a blind eye for the sake of a date, since I haven’t gotten my license just yet.”

“Knew there had to be a catch,” she jokes, patting his arm comfortingly. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

It’s been years since she’s gone to Tony’s, and never has it been with a man she was seeing. The last time she was here, it was with Ruby and Snow because they wanted to dress up and feel fancy for a night while also consuming their combined weight in pasta. 

Killian hastens to pull out her chair for her, smiling as he shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over the back of his chair before settling in across from her. 

“No sad back stories,” Emma says as soon as their waiter walks away. “No prior relationships. Anything else is fair game.”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Not really. I like you. And I’m scared and excited to be on a date again for the first time in a very long time. And I don’t want to fuck that up by rambling about how shit my luck was before I made it to where I am now.” It takes a lot of effort not to wring her hands together, even as they’re sitting in her lap. No nerves, no tension. Just enjoy a date.

“Fair point. First, let me ask your favorite type of wine,” he says, handing her the menu to consider. 

“Most reds, but not tonight.”

“Afraid you’ll find me even more irresistible?” he asks, leaning back and doing something sinful with his eyebrows when he looks at her. He’s tempting… so very tempting.

“No,” she says after a moment to collect herself. “I like first dates. And I’d rather not be all cloudy by the time my dinner arrives.”

His smile turns to something pure and happy. “No wine, then.” He waits until the waiter has taken their orders before speaking again. “What’s your favorite thing about Storybrooke?” 

“That we have actual seasons here. Not like in Florida where it was just hot and humid until it wasn’t, with a smattering of hurricanes.”

“Or England where there’s maybe forty-five days when the sun shines.”

“You get the point on that one,” Emma tells him. “Why did you decide to move here?”

There’s a few emotions that cross Killian’s face all at once, and she knows without needing the explanation. Will did say it was a story for the man himself. “Okay, we’ll save that for another time, too.”

“I was genuinely surprised that a publishing company wanted to set up an office here in Storybrooke,” Emma says, realizing she’s never asked why.

“Robin prefers forests of trees over concrete jungles,” Killian explains. “There is a central office with a lot more people in New York City, but he only goes down when he has to and we utilize a lot of video conferences for everything else.”

“That’s a lot of distance for just some editing and such, isn’t it?”

“It’s more than just that, love. Robin’s looking to start up workshops and clinics for his signed authors. He’s been hosting a fellowship for new authors for a week at a time at a cabin he owns up on the edge of the town as well. If you ask him, this place has a natural fount of creative powers just waiting to be tapped into. That’s kind of how Henry happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was on vacation about a year ago with his parents… well, foster parents. They said as soon as he sat down in the room that he whipped out his pen and paper. By the time they got back from going to grab dinner downstairs at Granny’s, he had just about finished the first chapter. Worked out a deal to buy him a laptop for some chores.”

“That’s amazing. Do they come with him for his meetings with you?”

“Well,” Killian starts, and his face falls. Before the words are out of his mouth, she knows what he’s going to say. “He’s not with that family anymore. That couple did everything they could to try to make up for the fact that they had to move and not take him with them, so he has his own laptop, we communicate with him via an iPod, and he has a suitcase that he protects with his life. But his current situation is... not as ideal.”

Emma swallows hard, a bubble of emotion getting lodged in her throat. “I can imagine how much that must hurt for him.”

“He’s been in higher spirits since his new foster parents started letting him travel on his own. He’s just turned sixteen and he’s fiercely independent, so he loves to take the train from Portland by himself and make his way up the coast for a weekend, even if it’s just a few hours away.” 

“Sometimes even just a few hours can feel like a whole different country.”

“I gather you’ve lived in a few places if that’s the way you feel.”

“I didn’t really live in Boston. But sometimes going down there to visit was like going to the far reaches of the Earth. Tallahassee was too far, when it came down to it, so I’ve mostly lived here in Storybrooke with a few exceptions.”

“Where you’ve followed the family business to be a police officer.”

“Correct. Have a shiny degree with my name on it and everything. It’s just from an online degree program, but…”

She’s surprised when Killian reaches across the table to touch her hand. “Online degrees are just as valid and important as ones earned in person at a university.”

There’s something about the way he says it - Emma is positive that he’s giving the affirmation to both of them - but she pushes past wanting to ask him about it and instead flips her hand around to briefly link her fingers with his. “You’re right. They are. And I’m proud of mine.”

“But you refuse to wear a uniform?”

The urge to shudder crawls up her spine but she controls that, as well. “Hate the things. Way too unflattering, way too uncomfortable. Besides, David decided we didn’t really need them since it’s such a small department. As long as we don’t come in wearing sweatpants, he’s okay with it.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah,” Emma says, almost immediately. “There was a time when I was younger that I was sure I wouldn’t, but I do now. By the way, Regina approved our budget for upgrades. I’m sitting down on Monday and just going to town online shopping for all the things we need. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to get everything we want and still have some left over.”

“That’s fantastic,” he exclaims, looking genuinely happy for her. She’s so unused to this kind of support and attention, but she’s certainly not going to complain. 

When their food arrives, they slow down a little bit but not by much. Back and forth they ask and answer, between bites of food and avoidance of the hard stuff - both in liquor and life experiences. There’s plenty to be talked about there: Emma has a metric ton of shit in her history and she knows she’ll have to talk about it eventually, but eventually isn’t today. By the time they’ve ordered dessert, she’s more relaxed than she’s ever felt on a date before. They only ordered one of the delectable selections, something that’s ice cream and delicious and not the standard tiramisu. As the check arrives, Killian reaches for his wallet and Emma grabs for her purse. At that, his eyebrow pops up.

“I’ve never been on a date with a woman who pulled out her wallet at the end,” he admits. “Would you prefer to split or would it be okay if I paid for the both of us?”

“I’ve never been on a date with a man who asked,” Emma says, gesturing for him to go on as she tucks her handbag away again. “Did you have a choice to work in NYC when you moved here?” Even though they talked about the Storybrooke location earlier, she realizes she never asked him that. 

“No. Robin specifically hired me to be a junior editor in this office.”

“Would you have preferred to work there instead of here?”

“Not at all,” Killian says without even a second of hesitation. The quickness surprises her, just like so much constantly does with him. “I was working in London and living right on the outskirts of the city when I applied for this position. I’d had enough of bustling and tourism and noise. When Robin told me I’d be moving to a town in Maine that had a population of less than ten thousand, it felt like the right move. And now that I’m settling in, I know I’ve made the right choice.”

“I may be biased, but I think you did, too.”

With the bill all settled, they exit the restaurant into the cool night air, with Emma’s hand tangled with Killian’s. She noticed that the patrons all glanced as they came and went, but Emma hopes that she and Killian are yesterday’s news before too long. It’s probably the only downside to this small town that they all feel the need to gossip like wildfire. 

He opens the car door for her again, letting his fingers trail across hers as he releases her hand and sends little shocks of heat along her skin. 

Killian walks her all the way to her door, his thumb gently rubbing against hers as they climb the stairs. She turns when they get to her door, slipping a little bit into his personal space.

“Well, not bad,” she says, reaching down and taking his hand and hook in her hands. “You managed to make me forget that I’ve spent the last three days trying to get oil spots out of my jeans thanks to an unfortunate call to Billy’s shop the other day.”

“That’s an easy, three-step process if you’d like my assistance.”

“In that case, wanna come in for some coffee and stain removal?”

He hums, stepping forward so they’re toe-to-toe, their noses brushing as she’s just at the same height with her heels on. When he speaks, his breath tickles her lips and she frees up her hands in favor of running them up the lapels of his jacket to rest on his shoulders. 

“Aye, but first, I’ve been waiting to do this all night,” he tells her, his voice low and husky and everything she wants to hear right now.

Then his lips are on hers and she’s perfectly fine with not hearing his voice because she’d rather be doing this anyway. Carefully, without breaking the kiss, she inches backwards until she can lean on the door, pulling Killian against her and letting all her thoughts leave for the moment. She doesn’t put out on the first date, but that doesn’t mean they can’t do anything else, right? His grip on her hip feels as tense as she is, and she finally stops so she can get her door unlocked. 

When it swings open, however, her apartment isn’t dark and empty like she left it, and she jolts away from Killian in surprise at Snow propped on her breakfast bar and David standing behind her counter. 

“Hey! We weren’t sure when… oh!”

Clearly, the other couple hadn’t expected Killian to still be attached to Emma when they hatched a plan to come see how it went instead of waiting until the next day. Emma glances at Killian to see the amused smile on his face. She also sees that this is where the train stops tonight, and she sighs. 

“Give us a second,” Emma says to her family as she crowds Killian back into the hallway for some semblance of privacy; she knows how thin her door is. “Do you still want to come in and have coffee? Probably get the concerned-father speech from David?”

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait until next time for all of that,” he says, definitely not unkindly but there’s a hint of disappointment that this is where their evening ends, and she knows the feeling. 

“Next time, huh? I don’t remember asking.”

“That’s because it’s my turn,” he tells her, his voice light and playful. Just as quickly, he gets a serious look in his eyes and she’s not sure a marching band coming out of her apartment would tear her attention away from him. “Will you go out with me again?”

His eyes are so sincere, his expression hopeful and patient and of course she’s going to go out with him again. She steps forward, deciding that actions are better than words right now, kissing him softly but solidly, making sure it teeters right on the edge of the heat they were producing just a few minutes ago. 

She can’t get over the way he holds her, the way his arms come around her and mold her against his body. That paired with the way he kisses her back, the low rumble he makes when her hand comes up to brush against his cheek before sliding into his hair, she almost gets lost to the sensations all over again, Snow and David be damned. 

With effort, Emma pulls back the tiniest bit, trying to catch her breath more at the way he leans his forehead against hers than the kiss itself at this point. 

“Okay,” she breathes out. “Goodnight Killian.”

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice sounding equally unsteady. 

She looks back at him one more time, biting her lower lip at the mirrored look on his face. 

“I need to get the locks changed,” she mutters as she opens the door to her apartment again. “So, let’s talk about how you guys broke into my apartment tonight!”

-x-

Listening to Emma re-greet David and Snow makes Killian chuckle for a moment, and he takes a big breath as he settles his blood again. This woman is already so far under his skin that it’s hard to believe it’s only been a few months since they first spoke to one another. 

He has Robin’s car until morning, so it’s a quick, warm drive home. When he steps inside, Killian closes the door and locks it behind him, turning on light after light as he walks through the rooms that he’s inhabited for almost five months. He’s restless, only because he’s already looking forward to the next moment he gets to see Emma, and as his eyes land on various boxes and empty corners, he decides to use this momentum to finish what he started the day before. 

After changing out of his clothes and into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Killian retrieves his box cutter from the kitchen from his last unpacking adventure and starts with his office. 

It’s more than past time for him to officially make this place his home.  

-x- November 4: Monday

It takes effort for Killian to crawl out of bed on Monday. It’s probably the first time in as long as he can remember that he doesn’t bounce right out of bed as soon as his eyes are open. That excludes times he’s been sick, of course. He’s only human. But he’s not sick today. He’s tired. Downright exhausted, and with every right to be so. When he finally drags his eyes open, he looks around the room at all he accomplished. Gone are the barren walls and empty hangers. Every single piece of clothing he owns is now tidily put into its place. Trudging through his morning routine, Killian still manages to smile wide when he opens his closet to the wide array of clothes all readily available. 

He’s nearly ready when he hears the horn outside, and he smiles with the knowledge that Emma is out there waiting for him. With careful movements, he pours the two mugs of coffee from his pot and rinses it out, making sure it’s turned off before heading out. 

They’ve got a good deal starting, as far as he can tell. She brings the car, he brings the caffeine, and it’s almost as good as their walks. 

He rushes to the car through the morning chill, happy to at least have his scarf and hat in place. She pushes the door open from her side when she sees he’s laden with coffee mugs pressed against his chest with the help of his left arm.

“Hi! You found some winter weather gear!”

“Aye, finally got around to a lot of things I’ve been meaning to work on,” he tells her as he settles in, shutting the door firmly against a cold blast of wind. “Brought you coffee.”

“Thanks,” she says, grabbing the mug from him and taking a sip. She reaches over, almost without thought and squeezes his wrist to emphasize her words. 

Their banter on the way to his office is as it always is, but when she stops in front of NeverEndings, there’s care in the way she leans towards him. He meets her halfway, sighing into the simplicity of the kiss and wishing he could dawdle and kiss her in her car all day. 

“I have my lunch hour totally free today,” she tells him when they finally do part. “Want me to swing by?”

“I have a meeting with Henry this morning. I’m not quite sure how long it’ll go, but stop in and we’ll see?”

She smiles and nods, waving once as he climbs from the car and shuts the door. 

By the time Emma shows up at noon, he very clearly needs the respite. Henry is looking similarly worn down, obvious by the way the teenager is slumped in his chair, fiddling with a fidget cube that Killian keeps by his monitor for moments of extreme stress. That’s how Emma finds them, with Killian fighting off a yawn as he stares at his computer screen and Henry teetering on death by boredom. 

“Whoa. Are you guys working or just slowly melting into your seats here?”

“I’m melting,” Henry says without moving anything that isn’t absolutely necessary. 

“I’m working,” Killian adds, sitting up and stretching his neck to release the knots that are dying to form along his spine. “Darling, I’ve got just three more pages left on these edits. I’m so sorry. Would you like to stick around until we’ve finished?”

“Are you his girlfriend?”

Killian sputters for a second, unsure of how to introduce them in this situation. 

“I’m Emma,” she says, saving him from anything else. “So, Killian tells me you come up for vacations?” After shifting around a couple items, Emma makes herself comfortable by perching on the edge of the desk. 

“I did, back when…” Henry trails off, and Killian can see from this angle that Emma’s face falls into something that borders on understanding. He knows that she was raised by David’s mother, but he also knows that she uses a different surname than the Nolan household, so maybe there’s a kinship that he wasn’t even anticipating between them. 

As they get lost in conversation, Killian desperately wants to keep paying attention, to absorb in the information that she hasn’t yet divulged to him, but the edits call back to him and before he knows it, he’s lost to the words in front of him once more. 

Far longer than he would’ve liked to spend on it, he’s finally at the end of the passage and he saves the file with a noise of victory. 

“Alright, lad. We’ve got it. That’s the whole thing with edits and comments now done.”

“Really?”

“Aye. The next part is all up to you. We’ll get a look at your schedule and set up another meeting in the middle of the month if you think you can handle that.”

The boy scoffs, accepting the folder and thumb drive that Killian hands over to him. “I can practically make these changes with my eyes closed at this point.”

“Yeah, yeah. Safe travels back to the city.”

With a final wave, Henry exits his office and Killian slumps down in his chair, peering around his monitor as Emma relaxes back in the chair that Henry just vacated.

“Thanks for your patience, love. How’s your day going?”

“Better than yours, it seems. I texted Ruby and she’ll have lunch waiting for us. You ready?”

“Would you carry me there?”

Emma laughs, music to his ears, and he hauls himself from his chair, taking her hand when she offers it. 

Killian’s own lunches don’t usually last very long, but he feels he’s earned the right to relax for a little bit since the first round of edits is officially done, and his “quick” morning meeting just went two hours over his proposed time slot for it.

It’s not the end of the job, of course. There will still be more edits after Henry comes back with his changes. But that’s in two weeks, and until that time, Killian can start worrying about everything else with the book. 

Not only are there design aspects to be considered, but they’ll have the company Christmas party in New York next month, which will act as some kind of debut for Henry. It’s the one time every year that all the employees and authors come together. In England, they’ll be hosting their own version of the event, but over here, it’s a chance to celebrate the creativity that’s come out of the whole year and for Robin to announce everything they’ll look forward to in the one to come. 

While he always has an outfit ready for the black tie event, he’ll also be in charge of making sure Henry is taken care of. He’ll have to ask the lad whether he has a suitable outfit. Despite being the editor for such young talent, Killian’s primary anxiety rests over getting everything done and in a timely fashion. He decided after their first meeting that Henry was more mature than a good deal of the grown men and women he’s worked with before, but in the eyes of the world, he’s still a child, and he wants them all to see Henry like he does.

After the party will be the actual book release, and the press for it. And then there’s the worry over its success or failure, of course...

“Hey, Killian.”

“Hmm?”

Emma pulls him down for a quick kiss right on the lips. “You’ve gotta let your brain rest for a couple minutes. Coffee?” 

He looks around, having missed the whole walk over to Granny’s, apparently. He sighs, letting Emma lead them up the path to the diner. “Yes, that would be helpful.”

“I might be wrong, but I feel like you’re freaking out a little bit.”

“You’re not wrong,” he admits to her. “I just want everything to be perfect. He’s so talented, but he’s young. And one wrong step could mean the book goes nowhere.”

“I don’t think you’re going to let that happen,” she says as she sheds her coat and gloves, setting them on the seat on her side of the booth before she slides in. 

Their food and drinks are placed in front of them almost as soon as they’re settled in, and Ruby gives them both a signature smile before she zips away from the table to tend to the rest of the lunch rush. 

“Told you I gave her the heads up,” Emma says, smiling at him and nodding to his food. “Dig in. How long until you have to be back?”

“I have a meeting with Robin at 2:30 to go over our progress from today,” Killian tells her, glancing at his watch and seeing that Emma’s hour is already almost up. “You want to get a box for that?”

“Nah. I already texted David and told him I would be back later than usual.”

“You’re simply a marvel, Swan. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, smiling and propping her hand under her chin and getting comfortable with her hot chocolate, clearly settling in for some quality time.

-x-

It’s weird, Emma thinks, to be the source of comfort for someone. But judging by the way Killian relaxes almost as soon as she reassures him that he’s not going to fuck up is a pretty clear indication that he’s taken the words to heart. What’s weirder is that she likes the feeling, a lot, and wants to keep being able to do this for him whenever he needs it. 

“Tell me something new today,” she urges, using the moment to take a bite of her food before he can turn it around on her. She watches carefully as he gulps, clearly already knowing what he wants to say but maybe afraid to speak the words.

“Promise you won’t let it scare you off?”

“I can try,” she says honestly, but there’s no fear sparking in her stomach, no panic in her lungs. 

“Seeing you for the first time was the moment I finally felt like I was really here - that I’d really moved to a whole new country and started a brand new job. Your hair was down. It caught the sunlight first, and then your badge did. I couldn’t get over how you looked ethereal and yet so solidly real, and you were staring at me as if you were waiting for me.”

It’s her turn to swallow hard, hearing his admission, and knowing that the day he first saw her, she was waiting for him. 

“Wow,” she finally manages. She picks at her forgotten food, the blush rising to her cheeks and the smile unable to be contained. 

“I’ve been told I could write romance novels,” he says, and it’s the seriousness of his tone mixed with the smile in his eyes that finally makes Emma grin as it calms her nerves.

“I’d buy them,” she admits.

“I could write about a hapless Brit learning all about American culture from some blonde goddess in a red leather jacket.”

“And what adventures would they go on, Killian?”

“Epic battles, Swan. They couldn’t have just any boring old story. They would need action, fighting to find each other after being separated, and when it’s all said and done they would share True Love’s Kiss and she would turn him into a frog.” She is so obviously distracted by the way his hand has reached across the table and his fingers are rubbing over her knuckles, the deep timbre of his voice, that she almost misses the last part, but she hears it, and she chortles at the picture he’s painted. 

She takes a deep breath, prepared to share something of her own. “I didn’t want to date you,” she admits. It’s like an anvil dropped in the middle of the table but if he just admitted all of that to her, maybe she can meet him halfway.

His face falls, and she hurries to continue.

“Not like that,” she says reassuringly, giving his hand a squeeze to emphasize. “I had this idea that you would just be this stranger I passed on the street every day and that would be enough. And then we started talking and I thought - okay, this is cool. We can be friends.” She laughs even thinking of it, at the sheer absurdity that she was so sure there would be nothing between them.

“You started it,” he says. “You kissed me first.”

“Yeah? So let’s talk about setting up that second date.”

“Well, I’ve finally finished moving into my flat, so I think it would be nice to have someone over to see it without towers of boxes invading each room.”

“I think that sounds like a good plan.”

There’s a thought that flashes through her mind that adds together one part Killian, one part dinner, one part alone, and it takes her a moment to pull her mind from the gutter once more. Especially when she thinks of how they were interrupted before he could come inside after their first date. 

But more than for anything like that, Emma thinks about how nice it’ll be to have something closer to a quiet night - there won’t be any townspeople staring at them and taking notes to pass around to all their friends. No one will take notice of them leaving and speculate about what’s about to happen next. Plus, the idea of Killian cooking is quite appealing. 

“Saturday?” she asks before they part ways after lunch is over.

“Saturday sounds perfect,” he reassures her. And while she’s already excited for it, she also knows they have a whole week of little moments like this to look forward to. 

-x-

Chapter 7

[ticktickblog]

Minimalism: How I Finally Found the True Beauty of Living with Less

A couple of months ago, I saw a TV series called Tidying Up with Marie Kondo, where a Japanese lady Konmari visited families to help them tidy their homes. The tiding process normally starts from clothes, books to sentimental items. A rule she’s given is only keeping what’s necessary and discarding those that don’t spark joy anymore. The basic concept embedded in the Konmari method is actually similar to minimalism.

Minimalism is about living with less. This not only means getting rid of extra material possessions, like what they did in that TV series, but also includes reducing mental burdens, and decluttering other aspects of life, e.g. digital life. It’s a less-is-more mindset that gets you to reflect on the current state of your life and identify what is truly valuable. With a minimalist lifestyle, people can sort their life well to enjoy more peace and freedom.

Getting rid of excessive material possessions

Among all aspects of minimal living, what we could easily start with is probably the personal belongings. I know this may still sound like a big project, but here’s what I did:

Observing

The first thing I did was to examine how much stuff I actually own, and I started with clothing. I pulled over all my clothes from several wardrobes and piled them together, which was really appalling, especially seeing hills and hills of clothes and some were years ago but still with the label on. I came to realize that I was kinda a semi shopaholic that I never thought I was.

Decluttering

Then it comes to the decluttering. I had to decide what to keep and what to toss. Considering some clothes are still quite new, I spare another choice for donation. It was quite a struggle to decide which item should go, but I asked myself two main questions:

Functionality: is it still functional/wearable?

Sentimental value: is it something meaningful/makes me happy?

It became easier with these two standards. For example,

Pieces bought out of pure impulse: donate.

Sweater my grandma knitted for me: stay.

T-shirts with holes: go.

Same type of dress: keep the best, ditch the rest.

Trousers I haven’t worn for the last year: go/donate.

Tip: One thing I learned from Konmari was the thank-you ritual. Thank the item for its sweet company before letting it go. This can help reduce your inner guilt when throwing things away.

Organizing

What was also suggested by Marie Kondo was organizing stuff by category instead of by location.This simply means storing the same type of items together, rather than letting them scatter in multiple places. For example, all towels go to one box, and all T-shirts should be collected in the same drawer, sorted by colors if you’d like. This helps when I need to quickly search for something, and also gives me a clear idea of the number of same items I own, which then can prevent me from buying more than I actually need.

Maintaining

To maintain the cleared-out momentum, regularly check if anything becomes excessive or nonfunctional. Also, always ask yourself the hard question — Do I really need it?/Do I already have it? — before you fall prey to consumerism that encourages you to buy excessively. Some minimalists stick strictly to the “one-in-one-out” principle, which means when they add something new, another stuff they already had should go. I haven’t tried this, it might be effective, but also be careful that it can lead to a simple replacement too.

Cleaning up digital clutters

Compared with visible substances in real life, what burdens us in the digital world is perhaps much harder to be noticed. A quick self-check can be: unlocking your phone and counting how many installed apps there are, or go to the photo album, and see the number of photos stored in it. In my case: 187 apps and 19220 photos. Amazing.

I decided to start the purge from those little cute apps. First I created different folders to sort them out by category. Interestingly, I realized I’ve downloaded 14 apps of a single type — photography and editing. Never knew I had a true passion for that. To downsize it, something particularly useful was: keeping the multi-functional apps because these are the ones I use most, just like TickTick, an all-in-one productivity app. Then the others are just a waste of storage. Also, let go of those barely used, for me the recipe apps, because I seldom cook, and also the recruitment apps, which were only used when I needed to look for a job. When finishing the decluttering process, the size of apps on my phone was shrunk largely to nearly ⅓ of the past.

The same process then went with my photo album, which was downsized to about 6k from 20k, after all the meaningless screenshots and repetitive selfies were deleted, and all trip photos were moved into cloud drive. This could further extend to messages or emails, if those are the severely-hit areas in your case. God bless.

I literally felt my phone was thinner after the whole process. Try it.

Reducing the amount of information I’m exposed to every day was what I did next. I’ve tried more radical way like cutting my phone completely out of daily life for 3 days in a row. It felt terrible honestly, and I used it for more hours as a payback once I got it back. A common misconception there of minimalism might be the elimination, but I think the difference is minimalism is not telling you to avoid something forever, it’s always about striking a balance between your desires and capacity.

Therefore, I’m enjoying my digital life, but I’m also trying to weighing it against my capacity of information that I can take in. Articles with exaggerated titles but cheesy contents needed to go first; numbers of newsletters subscribed should be restricted; time spent on TV series was limited; scrolling on social media posts was also reduced; notifications from apps were minimized… so on an so forth.

Reducing mental burdens

Lastly I’d like to talk a little about the effects of minimalism on mental world.

Also take myself as an example, I used to be addicted to expanding my social network, because I’ve long been educated: one more friend, one more road. Therefore, I took very good care of my social media accounts like they were just many MEs living on the internet. However, the larger my network size is, the more exhausted I feel. The more I care about how many likes I get for a new insta post, the more anxious I get.

Then I just realized putting so much effort into building social personas and expanding so-called friendships did nothing good, but added on my mental burdens. Why not spending more time for myself, and people I really love and care about? Understanding the truth of quality over quantity, I decided to:

Unfollow people I met on a party but never talked in life since then.

Delete those using me as a “problem-solving machine” but nothing else.

Delete those who barely contacted me unless they became sales.

Let go of those in close relationships but ghosted for whatever reasons.

Share what I’d really like to share instead of what my online friends like.

After doing that, I felt so much more relieved than before, because I finally understood that my time and energy is the very limited resources I have in life and thus not everyone around me is worth it. I truly get the meaning of living with less: spending less time on the unnecessary and what consumes you endlessly, but more on what you really need and what brings you joy.

Talking all above, you might feel inspired and would also like to try the minimalist lifestyle. But before you go, I’d like to kindly remind you of three gimmicks of minimalism I’ve spotted:

It’s not a disposal competition. Focusing only on the number of stuff you’ve tossed or people moved from your contact is not what really matters. And there isn’t a rule saying the less, the better.

It’s not a promotion of expensive brands with minimal designs. Some products brand themselves with minimalism, making it a new aesthetics standard with normally a not-so-affordable price. How ironic.

Make conscious decisions when ditching something, or else you may find yourself end up in a replacement cycle that causes extra expenditure.

In a nutshell, minimalism is a way of life and a way of thinking. It encourages us to focus more on what’s truly important in life and avoid other distractions; it becomes an antidote that saves us from drowning in numerous goods and boomed information; it helps reduce mental loads and spare some room for inner happiness.

So thank minimalism, go and enjoy life!

[teddystrap]

Drama CD: [幽幻ロマンチカ・真骨頂] ≁Karasutengu Hifumi・Baku Utashiro≁

Ok I know this is out of order (I skipped over the previous Hatenkou discs, which I will do later), but I reallllly adore the Shinkocchou concept. This came at the end of a HECTIC week, so to myself and any readers out there, I say a well-deserved: お疲（憑か）れ様でした！

In this disc - the first in this subtitle - Crow-Heavenly-Dog Hifumi and Dream-Eating Animal-Thing Utashiro team up to fight crime and save the Universe... of Nanagiri High School. 

Before I say anything else, first look at the hidden msgs (x2) in the tracklist: 

１．壱、都市伝説『すきま』 ２．弐、スイーツに囲<ま>れて ３．参、湧き出た<も>のは ４．四、陰<り>から立ちはだかる ５．伍、穏やかな夜だっ<た> ６．六、戦うなら<い>っしょに ７．七、都市伝説『すきま』看破 ８．キャストトーク

Hifumi: bold⋆ spells 「すきだから」 (’Because I like you...’)

Utashiro: <⋆> spells 「まもりたい」 (’...I want to protect you.’)

...

(ﾟ艸ﾟ(｡艸｡(ﾟ艸ﾟ(｡艸｡(ﾟ艸ﾟ(｡艸｡(ﾟ艸ﾟ(｡艸｡(ﾟ艸ﾟ(｡艸｡(ﾟ艸ﾟ(｡艸｡ ) ｽﾍﾟｼｬﾙｳﾝｳﾝ

We also find out bits about each character's past - like how Hifumi had been cold and uncaring when he first mixed with the human world, and how he developed a taste for sweet foods because that's what people used to give him as offerings. AND how hilariously angry U-kun gets when people try to point out that deep down he's really just a softie/sweetie.

NB. The audio track is a bonus bit at the end of the final cast commentary track where the two of them do a hilarious 'Free Talk' in character.

*

[The First Rumour: Urban Legend ‘Sukima’]

Something's lurking in the cracks and corners of Nanagiri High School. So far five students have disappeared, starting with a girl in 1st year. Everyone is freaking the fuck out, and even the police have got involved, but this being a paranormal case ofc they are not going to find anything.

On the orders of Toilet Flower Dude (abbreviated TFD), Hifumi and Utashiro are investigating the urban legends to prevent them from destabilising the forces of the Supernatural Seven. And they have come to you for help - after all, youkai get their powers from the goodwill of humans. TFD has even coined a team name for the three of you: DARK DESTINY FAN CLUB. And ofc you are the leader, because vagina power.

As part of the investigation, first you all go to... the nearby cafe and eat cake. Because Marie Antoinette said so. Because apparently a couple from your school was attacked when they went on a date there.

Hifumi decides that you have to act like a couple to bait the monster into attacking you. (Except this is more like a 3P scenario and for some reason nobody finds that just a little bit odd...?) The two of them start feeding you and wiping extra cream off your face, and ofc you become all shy and resistant. So then both of them possess your body and start putting their lips on you to 'make you understand how the cake feels'. #mfw = (*>艸<)ｷｬｧｯ. (Not even kidding, I actually made this face when I was listening to this.)

You finally cannot put up with this treatment anymore, and when they stop, you pick up a chair and start hurling it at them. Damn girl u so hot when u maddd. So much for Battle Plan RaiseBloodSugar1. XD

Plan #2: Ya'll patrol the empty classrooms after school to look for clues. Eventually you find a ...fluffy/slimy-looking... monster consuming a 1st-year boy. When the three of you approach, the monster devours him whole and disappears.

You suggest using yourself as bait, with the both of them possessing your body to fight the monster in invisible mode. Sounds all fine and dandy... except their demon powers totally don't even work against this mochi-mochi monster!! After some failed attacks, Utashiro forms a protective shield to fend off the monster and allow Hifumi to fly you off to safety. (Such beautiful teamwork I could cry...)

Later Utashiro catches up to the two of you. It seems that the monster is so 'impenetrable' because it is feeding off the energy of some human somewhere, whose vulnerabilities it is exploiting. At this point you are still reeling from the narrow escape, so your two manservants boyfriends manservants decide to call it a day and escort you home.

Back home, you refuse to sleep, so the two of them dogpile you on your bed (is it just me or does that sound kinda dirty, sports fans? ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)). You request that they both change into their chibi forms and hug them to sleep. Hifumi doesn't mind at all but Utashiro hates it!! XD

Turns out you can't sleep because you are still terrified from the episode earlier. So they change back into their hot-guy forms and possess your body (because your bed is too small XD) and hold your hand and caress your head. After you finally fall asleep, the two of them commence the BL action pillow talk:

Utashiro is feeling down and blaming himself for not noticing your fear sooner. Hifumi is all like ‘I KNEW U WERE A SOFTIE U SEXY TSUNDERE’, but Utashiro tells him that all the other baku perished because they were forgotten by humans, and this is why he can't forgive and embrace humanity the way that Hifumi does.

As Hifumi correctly figures out, Utashiro is/was the Chief of the baku, even though he was not the most powerful nor the eldest. But Hifumi thinks it's enough that Utashiro did his best for his companions, just like *you* always do, you useless piece of sh... person!! I mean person!!. Hifumi trusts you even though you are a human, but Utashiro is unconvinced, since you never risked your life for him (the way you did for Hifumi)...

...Aaaand you wake up to the kinako-mochi monster in your room!!! Hifumi flies both of you out the window, but it's too heavy for him and he and he drops you both. Orz (well U-kun cushions your fall ofc b/c what are manservants for, amirite?). Meanwhile the monster has followed you out here and multiplied, so you all escape to the school grounds.

In the school gym, the monster and its spawns appear again, and Hifumi tries to fight them off, maxing out his energy much to Utashiro's alarm. Hifumi explains to Utashiro that he was born out of people's wishes,... and just when he was about to be forgotten, *you* appeared and gave him a new meaning to life. So he can't help but be fond of humanity and want to do his best for them.

You stop Hifumi from over-exerting himself, and volunteer to be swallowed alive by the monster so that ya'll can fight it from inside its stomach. Hifumi is all like ‘LET'S DO THIS LEADER >:)’, but Utashiro FREAKS THE FUCK OUT X( and offers to come with you, forming a protective shield to protect you. At some point he finally admits that it would be 'troubling' if something happened to you... This is about as much of a love confession as you’re ever gonna get here, so I'm savouring the fuck out of this line indefinitely <3.

Inside the monster's belly, you find... a girl that was eaten, and pull her into the safety of Utashiro's protective shield. The monster grows weak, and Hifumi uses this opportunity to blow it up into smithereens. All its spawns become inactive as well.

The girl turns out to be the aforementioned 1st-year who was the monster's first victim. She appears to be asleep, so Utashiro takes a peek into her dream: she is infatuated with a senpai, but too shy to talk to him, and can only watch him from afar. The pain of her unrequited love bore cracks in her heart, which the kinako mochi monster has exploited and subsisted on.

You ask Utashiro to change the contents of her dream from #badend to #goodend. As he does this, the cracks in her heart start to mend, and the monsters disappear. But ofc, changing her dream doesn't do much irl; she still needs to make her own happy ending.

Thus, peace is restored to Nanagiri High School!! >:D The five missing students are all found safely and soundly asleep in the school gym, and the first girl finally found the courage to speak to her senpai.

Hifumi teases Utashiro for risking his own life to protect you during Battle Plan MonsterBelly1, but Utashiro claims he only 'changed his mind a little bit about humans'.

But then Hifumi readily admits that he got to see both cool and uncool sides of you during this adventure, and it makes him like you more <3. Upon hearing this, Utashiro is all like ‘GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER’ and instructs you to stick with him so that he shall protect you from the Crow-Dog-Whatever that is *even more dangerous than any urban legend ever*! <333333

*

[Thoughts] OH WOW I got so used to the DiaLovers twisted personalities that I figured this was going to be like a Versus disc where they compete and fight with each other over you. But like I said, the teamwork/bromance is so beautiful it brings a tear to my eye :').

First of all, as KENN observes in his part of the Free Talk, this disc is kind of a parallel world where you are not strictly *romantic* with either of them. But at the same time both of them seem ok with some 曖昧さ (e.g. light touches/kisses) here and there. I guess it's less like a FB "it's complicated" situation, and more of youkai having some harmless fun with a human.

[cf. Remember how all the vampires stripped Yui down to her undergarments and bit her in all the embarrassing places, and she STILL thinks: 'They only see me as food T_T.' Yes that's totally non-suggestive, yes yes, carry on.]

Secondly, like Kimura-san notes, the two personalities make a striking contrast, and Utashiro seems *even more* tsundere than usual compared to Hifumi. But because Hifumi has one more disc than Utashiro, I think he's had more opportunities for character growth, so I'm optimistic about U-kun :)

I think between the two of them, Utashiro is the more mature and sensitive one - as shown by their hidden msgs, Hifumi's feelings lean more towards 'I like you'/displays of affection, whereas Utashiro is more about protecting you & supporting you emotionally.

Hifumi has a more impulsive/careless personality; sometimes he misses little details, and he's ready to take risks if you are. In that regard I think they counterbalance each other quite well, Utashiro talks sense and 'anchors' the situation; Hifumi brings the positivity and the momentum.

Using the two roles of the manzai (traditional Japanese standup-comedy) for analogy, U-kun is the 'straight man' who provides the tsukkomi, and Hifumi is the boke or the one with all the gags.

...Also it just occurred to me how most of the time the tsundere role is either like a younger/spoiled brat type, or a kichiku megane (à la Sakamaki Reiji). Utashiro is kind of like a... tsundere-oniisan? XD Not sure if that's a type, but in any case it’s kinda refreshing, plus he's precious and I love him :3

NB1. KENN's chibi voice is THE BEST. X3

NB2. I wonder what trousers (「なっちゃうパンツ」) Kimura-san was wearing in the recording studio on his dates with 'Dummyko-chan' - which is what he calls the dummy-head mic XD. Now, I'm not sure about this, but there is a good chance that he's the one who came up with the worst nickname in the entire universe 'M-neko-chan'...  

[artdjgblog]

Innerview: Ercan Ucer / Grafik Tasarim (Turkey) October 2008 Image: Giphy Note: Take #2 of a design magazine interview.

​0​1) How do you name yourself other than being a versatile designer? In the past year and a half I’ve come to realize that I’m not really a graphic designer. It’s definitely in there and will always be because design is a poison, like any vocation or skill can be. But, I’ve always approached the way I work as an artist first, and I don’t fancy myself an artist either. I am what I am, though I can’t always be so selfish. Am I an illustrator? I guess there is a collision of the three. Add this to a love for getting my hands dirty, plus a celebration of youth and American pop-culture mixed with Eastern European and post-WWII American Design – B.C. (Before Computer) and the product is me? “Versatile” is too defining of a word for me and way too classy. I simply like to say I make things. Each day is new and I haven’t a clue what I’m going to do. ​0​2) What is the relationship between marketing and your designing process at different areas? (poster, packaging, logo…etc) A design is a marketing tool, no doubt. I haven’t really worked on a large scale setting with this, but I have in terms of marketing on a small scale for rock concerts and prospective CD buyers. Though, a designer plays eye-grabber, a designer is not really a marketer, but I guess it helps to attract attention or sell something. I had friends in college who studied marketing as well as design and they’d probably be more equipped to answering this question. It’s an area I’m not familiar with other than thinking of ways to attract people to get excited for a musical group, a sound, feeling or expression by way of putting a stamp on a poster, CD or logo design. It is a marketing tool especially when working with a client. It certainly is not only what the artist-designer can bring to the “product” (Though, I do think this can apply at a certain larger level with selling something), you’re also working for somebody and trying to sell an image or an item. In the case of a show poster, you’re selling a concert venue or the place the poster is hanging or even the music scene and the city and environment. I think this can be a tricky walk. I’ve been fortunate to have some small success with great clients and great projects to where things work out well. I guess it helps that independent music graphics kind of start out in left field to begin with, to where they are approached more like an art project than a product? Though, I don’t think that the work should not limit itself to a certain kind of audience. I think it’s great when the work speaks to anybody. There are times though where things don’t mix well, whether under the weather by design, client-wise or consumer. It’s just part of the deal. The work isn’t always going to be a homerun. Another deal is the way people interact with communication in marketing. Today I find that technology has a lot to do with people getting information for a rock concert via social networking sites, musician, ticket and concert venue sites. I don’t think that something like the poster will ever be dead, but technology can almost make a poster feel second-rate, a collector’s keep-sake and more for show than for the actual show. Logos are very interesting when it comes to marketing for bands because they are generally slapped onto many-many products. I’ve worked with a lot of music-related designs, but I’ve also made logos varying from a lawyer to an internet-computer company to a church before. So, these different applications encourage me to find new ways to talk to other audiences who come searching for something that isn’t entertainment, but I approach these designs with the same techniques and tools I use with the music graphics. I try to give something unique, and of a new take, to get a double-take. ​0​3) Can you tell us about your working environment and your different feelings or extraordinary events that inspires you? Ever since I was a child growing up on a farm, my working environment has been outside and especially in my bedroom. Working environments also extended to anyplace I had my eyes open. I certainly believe in a home base or comfort zone of operations, but a lot of my more thorough processing happens while out and about and then I bring it back home with me to make. Currently I work out of a basement in my home. I’ve constructed a work space out of wood found in the street. I call it my “club house”. I love it down there despite my continual problem with having a work space that barely has room for me to work in! I collect and store a lot of things around me and still have a lot of my childhood things around me, along with piles and piles of supplies, research and things I’ve found or see the potential in for a future use. I have a mind-set that if I can’t use it today, I can easily use it in 50 years. I’m a major fan of extraordinary events and tend to find humorous and peculiar ones to be more my taste, and more-so in retrospect of the event. I feel to be blessed with a certain quality that attracts odd circumstances, or maybe it’s all in my head? Extraordinary has its own brand of “something”, but more often I find inspiration in places, events and things that are fairly run-of-the-mill and everyday ordinary for anyone, which can give them an added cushion of “extra” for me. On my website I’ve made a list of my history, the things that have been the everyday ordinary for me, but might seem very out of ordinary to others. It all depends on perspective and where you’ve been. ​0​4) When did you discover the impulse that led you being a designer? This impulse to leave behind a paper trail of some sort on my impression has always been kicking around in me. I didn’t fully know it at the time, but I believe it started when I was young as I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t doing or making something. It’s a large part of my make-up. Much of it has to do with my farming background and watching my Dad and his Dad and others always doing or working on something whether it was building fences, planting crops or tending animals. I also owe a lot to my Grandma, for her hands-on making skills and to my parents for allowing me to grow-up fully plugged into the American pop-culture of books, toys, music, movies, video games and sports. Now, I just feed off of my former self and continue to feed for the future. It’s not work to me when it truly works and I enjoy myself. ​0​5)  Is looking at life always from a different angel, the designer’s necessarily ego? Most any area of most any job, skill, talent, business doesn’t come without some ego hurdling. The ego is amped further within the arts. Inflated achievement comes with ease when your voice gets a little loud in a “scene” or beyond. I’d like to think I’m fairly grounded, but it’s hard not to feel the eggs weight the other side when I’m told I could be sitting on a couple of golden ones. Working a day job can help matters, but it can also be a nightmare with time management. I have to just tell myself that I am a man and a man who happens to make things. Still, that can be hard. It doesn’t mean that I’m better than somebody or am a “somebody” because I’ve found a certain something within me. I just enjoy my life and feel very fortunate to even know what I want to do with it. I think one needs healthy doses of reality and a whole heap of humor to make it too. Besides, I have no answers. If you know somebody with it all figured out, have them call me! What helps me is to find comfort and ease is venturing back into my child manner. I’m much more content and find peace when I’m either looking at the world through a certain lense that I might qualify for, or just making and enjoying the act of celebration in creativity. The moment I start to think too much about it all or answer questions, that is when it can get a little dangerous in the head. I’d like to think gaining wisdom through age and maturity helps. I know that my energy and will-power have died some, and of late I’m leaning on this as a benefit. I think I say and do some dumb stuff today, though I’m positive it’s a little less than yesterday! ​0​6) Can you inform us about graphic design’ s one of the important field, package design and your sketches? / Tell me about the sketching and process of packaging. There is a certain amount of image longevity that becomes attached to packaging. I’m not experienced in much more than musical CD packaging, but I think a long life span especially applies to this in the iconic halls of pop-culture, even on small levels. Though, that’s not the reason to put into making something and/or package something but if you can add some meaty eye candy, then so be it. I love poster design because there are endless possibilities to exhaust, many ways to work reach-and-grab-of-the-moment and intuitive, and if something doesn’t work all-around, it’s throw-away and will die soon like house flies. CDs are so different, at least for me, and they can be quite intimidating and intoxicating. Sometimes another designer’s great CD package makes me not wish to do another one, and in a good way! With my own process, I do a little bit of sketching, but more-so the process and evolution of the CD package is the sketching for me. If I’m rewarded with an ample amount of time to work on a CD I usually make it happen in three different sessions, or what I call “incubation stages”. This allows me time to sit on ideas and to come back to them with fresh perspective and clear head, to play or spin off ideas and avenues. When figuring out an image or “look” for an album, I like to at least digest the music or get a track listing. With the way in which I work, I tend to feed off of my day-to-day (sometimes minute-to-minute) emotional handy work. It can be a little strange though as I can easily obsess over wondering the what-might-have-been with something like a CD package or anything. I think that a CD package for me can be extremely different given what day I’m at. I do believe my best packages have come down on me at the last minute, intuitively and usually on the lowest of budgets. And I mean cheap, major cheap. 0​7) What are the benefits of making global designs for the designer? I love a body of work, one that breathes and not only serves as a timeline for the maker, but also for views and observations on life itself. Ideas that can extend globally even, throughout time. I think that a great body of work can extend to anybody, anywhere in the world. And even if it is for some other body like a client, it is always from its original body of the creator. Anything that goes global is still connected to that first breath of singular life. Due to technology, it’s so much easier today to go “global” with designs, even if one does operate on a small scale. I think it’s great to put the work out there, to share, even if it’s not marking up or wrapping up a popular product. In today’s fast-paced world of millions and billions of images and things flashing, it really does mean a lot that my meager things have made it in some strange little way. Even, if it’s just a grin or a double-take by someone looking at a little poster on a wall or in a magazine or a global internet billboard or world-wide magazine and book distribution. Though, a part of me still likes to keep some things to myself. And I’m odd because I personally don’t like to attract attention to myself with graphics on the shirts I wear or product logos on bags and things. ​0​8) Can you explain the relationship between marketing and designing? I’m not sure if I was successful, but I tried to answer some of this in question 2. With this one I’ll try to wrap it into the way that I work, to where my designs act as marketing tools for me, as well as the product they are pushing. Until recently I’ve never had to market myself in conventional practice. For the first six years my work itself was the marketing. Everything from a poster to a package and a logo has been on the same level with causing a “Trickle Down / Word of Mouth” marketing effect. And I’ve been fortunate to keep fairly close relationships with my clients due to a small industry I work in. These clients have brought other clients. For my first two years I was living and working with several bands in a house. I didn’t have to leave and would get new work constantly. At times I’d just make things before I was even asked. Some of the best marketing can come in poster making and that is how I started to gather some attention. Posters have a short shelf life in comparison to packaging and logos, so there is always a new one to tack up. And if a poster doesn’t succeed, then it’s easy to just make another one. It’s just a poster and practice is good. After a while people start getting curious and come looking for you. ​0​9) Does any of your designs have an unforgettable story? The “Whatever Makes You Happy” CD package design I made in my basement in June of 2002 for the band Elevator Division, is one of my most memorable moments. It was a special run of 250 handmade CD packages and my idea came at the last minute. I made an image of a hand shooting off its index finger like a missile that married the themes for the album perfectly, with reflections of war and failed relationships. It was the idea of shooting off one’s options and making decisions. It was fitting for the band-music but also for the national-world climate. Each one was hand-cut from cardboard and stencil sprayed and rubber stamped. Inserts were copied, cut, folded and glued. At the last mist of red spray paint, a crack of thunder shook the massive home’s foundation and I bolted from the basement and out the front door to a down pour of rain. I leapt off the front porch and slid head first down the front lawn embankment and into the street flowing like a river current. The drug dealing squatters of the home across the street were on their front step looking at the fire in my eyes and the red paint streaming from my ears, nose and mouth. It was a high much higher than that of chemical substance. -djg

[psychosistr]

Hermit’s Heart- Pt.2

Summary: After Caesar’s death, he’s prepared to enter the after life and pass on..however, as always, a certain Joestar derails his plans. With a simple, impulsive gesture, Caesar changes his own fate and becomes Joseph’s unseen guardian.

Notes: So, apparently on my birthday I like making myself sad and decided to share that sadness with others. Enjoy the prequel to the previous part that seemed to make everyone cry as much reading it as me when I wrote it xD

-First Part-

Caesar sighed as he watched Joseph go about his daily business with the real estate firm. Watching Jojo work had its interesting moments, certainly, but, for the most part, it was simply tedious. You think he would be used to it after nearly fifty years of watching after the other man, but there were still times when he would get bored.

It really wouldn’t be so bad if he could actually TALK to his friend, he had thought several times in the past. Unfortunately, that was part of the curse of being DEAD.

With another sigh, Caesar reclined back in the air around him weightlessly as he recalled the years leading up to this point…

There had been the fight against the pillar men, Aztec gods that had sought a way to become immortal and unstoppable. He and Joseph had trained to defeat them, and to save Joseph’s life in the process. Tragedy struck, however, when Caesar decided to go off on his own to fight the pillar men after a rather nasty argument with Joseph. He had lost horribly against Wham, the pillar man holding the antidote needed to save Joseph’s life. In a last ditch effort to save his friend, Caesar had managed to snatch the antidote from Wham before giving up the last of his energy to protect it and make sure Joseph’s life would be saved.

When he awoke some time later, he quickly discovered that he was, as he is currently, dead. He had been floating above the ruins, apparently on his way to the afterlife. He had almost made it to a portal of bright light when..distantly..he heard someone calling his name.

“…Caesar..” He knew that voice..

“Jojo..?” He looked back down, listening for that familiar voice again.

“Fight alongside me, Caesar.” It was definitely Joseph’s voice. It had a resolve to it that Caesar had only ever heard when the Joestar was about to do something that was both foolishly reckless and kind-heartedly selfless at the same time.

“Jojo, don’t you dare get yourself killed!” Caesar yelled while taking off towards Joseph’s voice. Finding out he could fly was a bit of a surprise, but, he supposed, it made sense seeing as he was floating when he woke up. He also found that he could go through solid surfaces such as floors and walls, making it much easier to find Joseph.

What he witnessed sent a swell of affection straight to his no-longer-beating heart: He saw Joseph fighting against Wham in a chariot race, Caesar’s headband tied around his head. He noted that the antidote ring was still in one piece, but decided he would be angry about that later if Joseph didn’t survive the fight.

Luckily, he did, with Caesar watching and cheering him on the whole time. His headband was destroyed during the fight and it soon materialized around his own head again, ending up right where it belonged. Caesar watched with pride as Joseph finally consumed the antidote. He was relieved that his sacrifice had not been in vain- Joseph would live.

Of course, there was the still the battle with Kars that almost dispelled what little relief Caesar had felt over Joseph’s victory against Wham. Kars had proven to be a much more challenging and underhanded opponent. Joseph almost died quite a few times before finally sending Kars flying off into space. However, the chunk of earth he had been on quickly plummeted towards the ground.

Caesar looked towards Joseph, wondering how he would find a way out of this. To his surprise, however, Joseph merely lied down on the rock with a content smile on his face.

“Caesar..” Joseph called his name, not once opening his eyes. “Guess I’ll be seeing you soon…”

“Jojo..” Caesar reached out to touch his friend, but his hand went right through him. “No..no, damn it!” He yelled while trying futilely to grab onto the brunette. “Don’t you dare give up now! I didn’t die just so you could join me here! You have to live, Jojo!”

His attempts at getting Joseph’s attention were all in vain, sadly, and Caesar feared the Joestar really would perish without trying at all to save his own life.

Luckily, it seemed the universe had other plans as the rock fell into the sea and Joseph was later picked up by a fishing boat. After that he was taken back to Italy and placed under Suzi Q’s care. She turned out to be a wonderful nurse, her and Joseph clearly enjoying each other’s company just as much as when Caesar was around. He had to admit, though, that he was a bit jealous watching the two of them. They looked like they would make a great couple.

“A couple…” Caesar said one evening while watching Joseph sleep. He reached out, his hand phasing through the sleeping Joestar’s cheek before he pulled it back to make-believe he was actually touching his face. “I guess you’ll be getting married soon..moving in together..having a nice big family…” These were all things that Caesar himself had wanted to have one day, but had given up to safe Joseph’s life. While he would never regret giving up his life for Joseph, there was one thing he did deeply regret. “I wish that..I could have been the one to experience all of that with you…” It was a foolish dream, he was aware- society was very adamantly against those kinds of relationships. Yet, even knowing this, he had still fallen in love with the foolish but clever man lying before him now. With a depressed sigh, Caesar rose to his feet. “Perhaps it is time for me to move on. You’re in good hands here and you no longer need me by your side. Arrivederci..amore..”

He walked over to the window nearby and looked outside. He could still see that glowing portal from before, hanging in the sky like a second-moon. He instinctively knew that that was where he was supposed to go- where he should have gone days ago.

As he started to phase through the wall, a quivering voice caught his attention. “Cae..sar…” He stopped and looked back towards the room’s only other occupant. Joseph’s brow was creased and he was fidgeting under the covers. Was he having a nightmare? “Caesar..” He said the other man’s name again, his arm that wasn’t in a cast reaching out in front of him like he was trying to grab something. “Please..don’t..go..”

“Jojo..?” Caesar frowned and walked back over, sitting beside Joseph on the bed and trying to grab his hand. “Joseph, you need to calm down, you’ll hurt yourself again if you fall out of the bed.” He knew the other couldn’t hear him, he never could, and his hand just went right through him, but he tried nonetheless.

“Caesar..I’m..I’m sorry..” To Caesar’s wide-eyed astonishment, there were tears forming in the corners of Joseph’s eyes. “I’m sorry..Caesar..I’m sorry..come back..please…Caesar..!”

Caesar frowned, hating that he was unable to do anything to ease his friend’s pain. “Jojo…” He wrapped himself around Joseph’s body in an attempt at a hug, his forehead pressing against the larger man’s tenderly. “Joseph..wake up..”

It could have been a coincidence. It could have been a power that Caesar was unaware he had. Either way, Joseph’s eyes shot open and he sat up immediately (Caesar moving out of his way instinctively, even though he knew the other would just go through him), his hand reaching out in front of him desperately. “CAESAR!!” He was panting heavily, wide eyes looking around like he was searching. Apparently not finding what he wanted only seemed to upset him further and the normally proud Joestar curled in on himself with a choked sob. “Caesar…”

“Jojo..” Caesar replied with a pained look. He hated this. He hated not being able to comfort his beloved friend. Hated not being able to wrap his arms around him for real and tell him that everything would be okay. All he could do was sit there and watch his friend come undone.

“Jojo?” A gentle voice questioned from somewhere behind Caesar. He turned his head and saw Suzi Q in the room’s doorway with a lantern, a concerned look on her face. She walked further into the room. “Jojo, is something wrong? Did the stitches pop again?”

Joseph sniffled and rubbed at his eyes with his uninjured hand. “I..Never mind, it’s nothing..just..go back to bed, Suzi…” He didn’t look up at her, merely stared at his legs under the blanket.

“……” She walked over to him instead and set the lantern on the nightstand by his bed before gently wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. “You were thinking about Caesar, right?”

Caesar was just as surprised as Joseph to hear her guess it right so easily. “!!”

She looked down at him with a sympathetic but sad smile. “I heard you saying his name. It’s okay, I miss him too.”

Joseph looked up at her for a while before his eyes looked back down again. “Promise you won’t think any less of me if I tell you something weird?”

Suzi shook her head and sat down by Joseph on the bed, Caesar moving around to the other side so he wouldn’t feel so crowded over there. “Of course- I can keep a secret!”

Joseph gripped the blankets under his hand tightly, unable to meet her sincere smile and patient eyes. “I……I loved him…”

Caesar stared at Jojo in surprise. “Joseph..? You..?”

Joseph continued, unaware of the man in question hearing every word of his confession. “I don’t know when it started..but..at some point..I fell in love with him. I know it was stupid- he was a freakin’ Casanova and always showed off how easily he could get anyone he wanted, so why would he choose someone like me? Still..it happened..to top it all off, I didn’t even figure it out ‘til we had that stupid fight and he stormed off to go fight the pillar men all by himself..” He brought his hand up to his face and covered his eyes. “I was so worried about him..I thought, if I caught up to him, then maybe we could work things out and I could tell him then…..but..then we found his headband..and I knew I’d missed my chance…” His shoulders shook and Caesar could see tears leaking out from under Joseph’s hand again. “I loved him..hell..I STILL love him..and-and now..he’s…” He broke down into a fit of sobs again and Caesar’s heart broke more hearing it.

“Jojo..” Suzi wrapped her arms around him again, holding him as he cried.

“It’s not fair, damn it!” Joseph sobbed in her arms, his whole body trembling with the force of his emotions. “Why’d that idiot have to go and die like that?! Why’d he have to leave me alone?! He should’ve been the one to live, not me!!” He gave a broken sob and clung to Suzi. “He was the one who could’ve married a cute girl and had a nice family and actually DONE SOMETHING with his life! Lisa Lisa said it herself- I’m probably gonna end up dead or in jail, so what good is it for someone like ME to be alive while HE’S dead?!”

“Idiota..don’t talk like that..” Caesar was choking back tears of his own. “I wanted you to live so that you could have those things, too..you deserve them just as much as me.”

“Joseph..” Suzi’s voice was sweet and kind, as it always was. “Caesar cared about you, too. He had a funny way of showing it, but we all saw it. He probably wanted you to grow old and have a good life with the people who love you.” She carefully put her hands on Joseph’s head, a few tears in her own eyes as she spoke. “I…I know I can never take his place..but..I promise I won’t leave you alone. Okay?”

Joseph sniffled and looked at her. “Suzi..” He loosened his grip on her and let his forehead rest on her shoulder. “You think you’d be okay with a guy that’s still hung up on someone else?”

“Of course I would.” Suzi said while gently patting his head. “As long as that guy could care about me a little, too.”

Joseph managed a small smile and a broken laugh while holding onto her. “I think that’d be pretty easy.”

Caesar watched the pair embracing on the bed, feeling more than a little envious. However, despite his jealousy at not being the one to hold and comfort Joseph, he was relieved to see that he did have someone so understanding. Very few people would have been so okay with the one they cared for harboring feelings for someone else.

Still, as he watched the two of them, he could feel the sadness coming off of Joseph in waves. “Jojo.” He placed a hand on the larger man’s back and stroked it gently. He felt his resolve building and voiced it aloud. “Even if you can’t see my face..even if you can’t hear my voice..even if you can’t feel my touch..I’ll stay right here beside you. After all, you asked me to fight alongside you and I still haven’t gotten the chance to do that.” He let his head rest against Joseph’s back and closed his eyes. “Until we get to see each other again, I’ll wait right here by your side.”

And Caesar had done just as he promised, even now, fifty years after his life had been cut tragically short.

Through the decades he had watched Joseph get married, start a family, give up his hamon training, and slowly age into an old man as one-by-one his older relatives passed away. Joseph had traveled the world and seen many exotic and unusual things thanks to the Speedwagon Foundation. A while ago, he’d traveled to Egypt and met a fortune teller that told him about a mystic presence known as a “stand” that embodied the user’s soul. It had been a shock for Caesar to see the fiery red bird appear, but Joseph had apparently not seen it. The whole time, Caesar had a feeling that the fortune teller, and the bird-like spirit, were aware of his presence with how they kept glancing in his general direction.

Now, though, Joseph was done with traveling for a bit and back in New York to continue his day-job. It was a monotonous day-to-day existence, but Caesar was not one to break a promise- even if the one he promised had never actually heard him.

“Hurry up and finish already, Joseph. You always take forever doing your paperwork..” Caesar nagged the brunette while changing his position in the air to a cross-legged one.

He couldn’t explain it, but lately he had been feeling a bit…anxious. Something had been pulling at the back of his mind, giving him a sense of paranoia and unease that something might happen to Joseph if the old fool wasn’t careful. It made him nervous whenever Joseph was outside of his home or by himself in public. Caesar’s eyes often scanned the area for threats, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything should Joseph be attacked.

“He is in danger.” A voice spoke to him suddenly and without precedence.

“?!” Caesar’s head shot up and he looked around for the source of the voice. The only one in the room besides himself was Joseph, and the phone wasn’t turned on at the moment so it couldn’t have been a phone call. Plus Joseph seemed ignorant to the voice’s words, simply going about his business as usual. “Who said that?!” Caesar questioned while looking around but staying close to Joseph.

“He is in danger.” The voice repeated. It was an odd voice, seeming to come from all directions at once. It sounded like every voice Caesar had ever heard in the background of a crowded room and yet like nothing at all. It was unsettling yet calming at the same time. “Joseph Joestar is in danger. His whole family is.” The voice continued. “They will soon face an ancient evil that seeks to end the Joestar line forever.”

Caesar felt like the voice was telling him the truth. He looked at Joseph with wide, worried eyes. “Joseph..he can’t fight like he used to..if something as powerful as the pillar men attacked him, he may not survive..” Fear and concern bubbled up within his chest. There had to be some way to warn him! Some way to protect him from such a threat!

“There is a way to save him.” The voice spoke calmly. “He will need someone to fight at his side and grant him guidance in these trials. Should you be willing, you may become his strength to ensure his survival.”

“I’ll do it!” Caesar responded without hesitation and complete conviction in his words.

“Do not agree so readily.” The voice warned him. “For if you choose this path, there is no going back. You will lose much that may not be reclaimed for many years to come..”

“I don’t care!” Caesar’s conviction did not waver in the slightest. “I already gave up my life for him! I would gladly give that and anything else up for his safety! Just tell me what to do and I will do it!”

“Very well…” The voice relented. “Touch his hand and you shall be transformed into something he will need in these coming days: A stand. He was not born with this ability, nor was he exposed to the source for it..however, the enemy of his bloodline has gained this power and caused it to awaken in others who share that blood. Those, like Joseph Joestar, will need guardians to become their stands since they do not possess them already.”

Caesar did as he was instructed and touched Joseph’s hand, grasping it as much as he could without going through it. “Jojo…” He felt a rush of energy spreading outward from where his body was touching Joseph’s, shooting up his arm and into his chest. “This time..we will fight together.”

He closed his eyes as the energy burned through him. It was an odd sensation, like his long-dead veins were burning while his every muscle was simultaneously being split apart. Strangely enough, it didn’t hurt, it was simply…odd. The feeling spread over every part of his body from his head to his toes, leaving him feeling oddly loose and shifty by the time it was all over.

When he opened his eyes again, he came to the odd realization that he wasn’t exactly sure WHERE his eyes were. He looked at himself and discovered that his body had unraveled into several thorny, purple vines. Many of them were spread out in the surrounding area, simply lying in wait to be moved as Caesar realized after a bit of focusing. The main part of him, the part that held the greater portion of his consciousness that could loosely be called his “head” was focused into about three or four vines which were growing out of Joseph’s hand.

As he focused on where his no longer visible “eyes” were looking, he noticed that Joseph was looking at him with a perplexed expression. “What the hell..?”

Caesar moved one of his vines back and forth to test if Joseph could see him. “Jojo? Joseph, can you see me?” Joseph’s eyes followed the vine, meaning that he could indeed see him. “Ah! You CAN see me! Jojo, it’s me- it’s Caesar!” Caesar was so excited to know that he had a way to interact with his old friend again. He tried moving one of his vines to touch Joseph’s face and was even more elated to find out that he could actually make contact with him. “This is great! Joseph, there is so much we need to-!”

Joseph continued to look at him with a confused expression, using his other hand to carefully touch the vine that had just touched his cheek. “Woah..this is cool..but, still, what the hell are you??”

Caesar’s good mood fell almost instantly. “Huh? What are you talking about? Jojo, it’s me!” A thought occurred to him as he watched Joseph examining his vines carefully. “You..You can’t hear me…”

He felt like his heart (wherever it was in this mass of vines) was breaking all over again. It was so unfair…after all this time..Joseph could finally see him..he could touch him..but he couldn’t even let him know who or what he was…he was so close, yet still so far…

While Caesar was wallowing in the bitter feeling of despair over his current predicament, Joseph grabbed a camera from a drawer on his desk. “This is so weird..I wonder if it’ll show up on film..?” Caesar felt some of his vines shifting over to Joseph’s other hand, coming out of his hand in the same way his main ones were on the other side. This startled Joseph and caused him to grip the camera harder. “Woah! Ah, shit!” He swore as it started to crack.

Caesar felt an energy racing through him, similar to what he felt when his body changed. “Ah!” He gasped (though there was no telling where his mouth was like this) as the energy seemed to link him to Joseph’s mind.

He saw flashes of thought, memories of the fortune teller he’d met in Egypt. Then he felt a pull on another part of his mind- while one half was staying connected to Joseph’s thoughts, the other half was seeing things in another location. He saw the man that Joseph was thinking of- he was in the middle of performing a tarot card reading for a group of children along the side of a road. That image froze in his mind and the energy within him spread through the vines, into Joseph’s hands, and then finally into the camera he was holding.

The camera shattered completely in Joseph’s grip, but, from the wreckage, a single photo was printed out: It was the image of the fortune teller that had been in Caesar’s mind.

Joseph put down the camera’s remains and picked up the picture with a look of shock and awe. “Woah! This is crazy! I was just thinking about how Avdol might be able to explain this to me!” He looked back down at the vines on his hand. “Did you do that?”

“I..I think I did..?” Caesar replied despite Joseph being deaf to his words. He was pretty sure that was his doing just now, but he still had no idea HOW he did it. This would take some practice and experimentation from both of them to figure out the full extent of Caesar’s new form and powers.

While he would have preferred a form that allowed him to speak to Joseph, or at least allow him to be recognized, Caesar still hoped this new power would prove useful to Joseph in whatever bizarre challenges he was about to face.

[veky1993]

Sunshine - a major crimes fic

Description: A little ray of sunshine for Sharon and Andy after a long, exhausting night.

Read it on ffnet, or since I’ve finally made an account there, on Ao3!  Otherwise, read it below. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it, too.  :)

It was on a groan that Andy woke up that morning. Without bothering to open his eyes, he rolled over onto his side intent on snuggling up to Sharon and getting in a few more winks, but when he only found empty, cold bed sheets, his eyes flew open and he groaned again.

Crawling out of bed, he muttered, “That kid,” then grabbed his robe on his way to go look for his wife and the child in question.

He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when his trek down the hall to their spare room was brought to an unexpected halt by a soft humming sound. It was coming from the living room, and it wasn’t hard to guess who its source was, so on tiptoes, he redirected his feet in that direction, a small, knowing smirk already appearing on his face. His hunch was right, but as he stopped just inside the doorway of their living room, the sight that greeted him rendered him speechless. The scene in front of him was so heartwarming that all he managed was a quiet, content, touched sigh.

Slowly rocking back and forth in the chair they’d impulsively bought when they’d moved into this house, Sharon failed to notice him. Her attention lay solely with the little creature cradled in her arms, and if ever Andy wondered whether the rocking chair was a sound investment, his doubts were all but extinguished now. Not wanting to alert them to his presence, he leaned a shoulder against the doorway and simply marveled at the rare moment that was unraveling.

The song Sharon was humming seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Not that it mattered when there were plenty of other details to take in. Like the gentle sway of the rocking chair to the rhythm of Sharon’s soft humming. Or the light smile on her face as she let the baby girl curl her tiny hand around her index finger. Or the low garbling or whiney noises the baby made whenever Sharon happened to tug her finger far away enough for the little one to have to strengthen her hold, lest the finger slipped completely away. Or the way Sharon’s smile would widen, but the melody of her hum would not even hitch, when the baby did so.

It was a sight to behold, and a pleasant, absolutely delightful wave of emotion washed over him until it wrapped itself comfortably around his heart and settled there.

There were worse ways to start an early day, he decided.

That little baby girl was their youngest granddaughter. She was Emily’s first child, Mia, and she had captured the hearts of the entire family. Even Rusty was besotted, although he futilely tried to hide it.

A couple of years ago, Sharon’s daughter had finally settled down and gotten married. Not soon after, she had gotten pregnant, and much to Sharon’s merriment, felt the desire to move back closer to her mother. The move had worked out perfectly with Andy and Sharon having retired around the same time, allowing them to lend the expecting parents a hand where needed to make the move as stress-free for Emily as possible. Since then, Andy had never seen a happier Sharon, and he was certain the only thing that could possibly add to her happiness was if Ricky, too, moved back closer to home.

Four months of constant parenting had taken its toll on Sharon’s eldest, however. As absolutely taken with their daughter the new parents were, the sleepless nights they endured had started to show. More often than not, their conversations or visits started on heavy, exhausted sighs, and more than once Emily had crashed along with her daughter during her nap time despite having company over. As recent retirees, Sharon and Andy had plenty of free time on their hands now, so it was Andy’s idea to use some of it and offer them a break. Sharon had been delighted at the prospect of having her granddaughter all to herself for a night, but convincing Emily that they were perfectly capable of taking care of an infant for a single night had been slightly more challenging. She didn’t want to impose, they could handle this, they weren’t nearly as exhausted as they looked. Those were just a few of Emily’s excuses, but ultimately the mere notion of getting a full night’s sleep and some time to themselves without a baby interrupting all the time did tip the scales in Sharon and Andy’s favor, and finally both parents gave in.

The afternoon with their granddaughter was nothing short of joyous, and for every time that Andy had teased Sharon about being a typical, sappy grandmother, he had proven, to Sharon’s endless amusement, that he was an even sappier grandfather. Simply put, the baby had them both wrapped around her little finger.

Their perfect bonding time, however, had quickly deteriorated during bed time, and only gotten worse over the course of the night. They had perhaps, ever so slightly (or perhaps very much, it depended on whom you asked), underestimated how attached the child was to her mother, and the beginnings of teething probably didn’t help either. What they hoped would be a night of just a few short trips to the baby’s makeshift crib, had turned into several at least one hour long bouts of walking and rocking and snuggling and feeding and generally just trying anything short of calling Emily that would settle the baby down.

It had been an exhausting night, and they had all properly fallen asleep only a couple of hours ago, which was nowhere near enough rest for any of them, but now, as Andy watched the two, their night’s struggle seemed all but forgotten. There was only one fact that mattered. He adored those two gorgeous human beings in that rocking chair more than words could describe. If he happened to lose a little sleep because of one of them, it was definitely worth it if it also meant being graced with as blissful moments such as this one.

His ears pricked suddenly when Sharon’s melodious hum turned into softly sung words, and if it was possible, he fell in love with her all over again.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

Goosebumps erupted all over his skin and a pleasant shiver ran up and down his spine, but his heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the squeaky little maybe-giggle the baby let out.

It interrupted Sharon, and she laughed. “Oh, yes,” Andy grinned at her low besotted baby voice, “you are.” She extricated her finger from Mia’s grasp and tapped the baby’s nose, making her scrunch it up a little, then even though she was barely past three lines of the song earlier, started it from the beginning. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” another quiet laugh interrupted her when her granddaughter latched onto her finger again, trying to stuff it into her mouth, but she went on, “you make me happy when skies are grey…”

Andy couldn’t keep away anymore. He quietly walked over to them. The few nanoseconds it took for Sharon’s voice to carry over to him was a completely made up kind of torture for him, but he told himself that was why he absolutely had to get closer to her. If possible he would bottle the sound, and open it only when he couldn’t hear the soothing notes straight from its source, and, oh, he dreaded ever not being able to hear it straight from the source.

That little miracle in Sharon’s arms called out to him as well. He wondered how it was possible for someone so little, to have such a gigantic hold over him. She had stolen his heart in a way entirely too different from the way her grandmother had. It filled him with warmth all the same though, and caused his chest to tighten in the most sweetest of ways. Although not entirely the same, he thought it felt rather a lot like his love for his children, all consuming to the point where he would do absolutely anything for them. The feeling manifested itself in a restless sensation in his hands, he was almost literally itching to reach out to that little girl, pick her up, snuggle her impossibly close to him, and hope that her innocent mind, and even more innocent heart, would somehow gather how very deeply he had grown to love her in just the four short months of her existence, and that he found it hard to name even a single thing he thought was more precious than her. And that was saying something, considering the love of his life was the one holding her.

When he reached the chair, Sharon again didn’t notice him. She was far too preoccupied with the baby to take note of much of anything, but then the baby made out Andy hovering behind them above Sharon’s head. She started kicking her legs up, her eyes went wide and she let go of Sharon’s finger so she could wave her little, chubby hands around.

Even as he grinned at the baby’s excited reaction, Andy wanted to curse himself for causing Sharon’s song to end.

Surprised and still oblivious to Andy’s presence, Sharon bent her head down to the baby and gently ran her fingers over her tummy. “What has you so excited all of a sudden?” She pecked the tip of her nose. “My singing can’t be that good.” She chuckled, but her tone was slightly self-deprecating.

Finally, Andy braced his hands against the back of the chair, careful not to move it, and leaned down. “I think it’s perfect,” he mumbled into Sharon’s ear.

“Oh, my God!” Sharon startled, a hand instinctively going to clutch her chest before she remembered she had a baby in her lap and she quickly dropped it back to the girl’s diapered bottom. When she finally turned her head, she let out, scoldingly, “Andy!”

He laughed, and repeated mockingly, “Sharon!” When she glared at him, he quickly added, genuinely, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” In apology, he dropped a kiss to her hair, then looked up at Mia. “I see someone’s up again.”

Sharon shook her head, begrudgingly accepting the apology, then turned back to her granddaughter on a sigh. “Yes, she is.” She stilled the baby’s still excitedly kicking feet. “I didn’t want to wake you, but,” her tone deteriorated into the one reserved just for babies, “she is in a much better mood than she’s been all night,” she kissed the little feet, “isn’t that right?”

“Yeah,” he rounded the chair and crouched down to kiss the baby good morning, too, “well, I’d be in a great mood, too, if you sang to me like that.” He addressed the baby now, who was even more excited now that he was so much closer, and started reaching her hands out to his face. “You know,” it was Sharon’s turn to smile at his baby tone, “she never sings to me. She just yells, and glares,” his tone took a baby grumbling dip, and Sharon took a playful slap at his shoulder, causing him to add, “and smacks at me all the time.”

He grinned when Sharon rolled her eyes, and couldn’t resist picking up the little one when she made a giggling noise as if she actually understood what her grandparents were bickering about.

“Be careful,” Sharon warned, only reluctantly letting Mia out of her hold, “she just ate.”

He put her down onto his shoulder, and giving into at least one of his earlier desires, snuggled her close to him. When he took a breath, he wanted to groan in delight. God, he loved how babies smelled. It had been too long since last his own kids smelled so heavenly. “You’re my sunshine, too, you know,” he told her softly, and when Sharon’s lips instantly curved into an affectionate smile, he eyed her with a lopsided smile of his own, adding, “and your grandma.”

Sharon got to her feet and joined Andy at his side. In a silent thank you, she kissed his cheek he acknowledged with a quick grin, then peeked around his back to get a look at the baby. She had gone completely limp, closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his shoulder. She could have melted at the sight, but instead asked, only half-jokingly, “Should I be jealous?” She couldn’t resist tracing her fingertips gingerly over the light, thin hair on the baby’s head. “She never gets this excited to see me.”

Andy was far too proud over the very true fact to try to ease her worries. “Yes, yes, you should,” he nodded vigorously, swaying back and forth and rubbing the baby’s back, “I’m her favorite, and you’re just gonna have to learn to live with it.” To prove his point, he turned his back to Sharon, as if to keep the baby all to himself, but all that did was give Sharon an unobscured view of her, and an opportunity to place a kiss on her forehead.

She then returned to his side, and wrapped an arm around him. Her tone was deceptively sweet, almost saccharine. “Enjoy it while it lasts, honey,” she squeezed his hip playfully, “she’ll be all mine the moment she starts understanding all the nonsense coming out of your mouth.”

“Hey,” Andy said a tad loudly, moving out of Sharon’s hold, then quickly added, “sorry,” when the baby wiggled and made a disagreeing grunt. “I thought you liked my nonsense,” he told Sharon in exaggerated hurt.

Sharon pursed her lips, debating whether to give in or tease him a little more. She was, unfortunately, ever so slightly, truly jealous over the special bond her granddaughter and husband so quickly developed, and the latter idea won out. She found herself shrugging, as she said, her nose forcedly high and mighty, “I merely tolerate it.”

Andy narrowed his eyes at her, then tilted his head to the baby’s ear. “Your grandma’s mean!” he mumbled to her in a hurt, whiny, but conspiratorial tone, and his heart soared yet again, when the baby wiggled and snuggled even more into him, her tiny hands fisting his T-Shirt. “See, she agrees,” he told the grandmother in question.

Sharon very nearly burst out laughing. He had no clue just how utterly adorable he looked like that, with his hands wrapped protectively around the baby and his faux offended expression, and to top it all of, his still sleep tousled hair. She had seen him in grandfather mode with Nicole’s children, and once handling a baby, too, so this side of him wasn’t entirely new to her, but the gentleness and near infatuation with which he so completely loved Mia took her breath away, and if possible, she loved him all the more for it.

Before that love could overwhelm her and cause her to blurt out something that would make him even smugger than he already was, in half-hearted exasperation, she finally said, “You are such a grandpa.”

“Oh, yeah?” He took a couple of steps towards her, his lip curled into a smug grin. “Like you’re any better.” He looked pointedly at the hand she’d reached out to brush lovingly against the baby girl’s back.

She finally laughed, a light, bubbly, airy kind of laugh that was a sound Andy loved maybe even more than her earlier discovered singing voice. Yes, she was such a grandma, too. “Can you blame me?” she asked, dropping her hand only to gently squeeze their granddaughter’s foot instead.

He smiled. “No, I really can’t. She’s too precious.” He kissed the side of the baby’s head, and took a deep breath, for a moment savoring the distinct baby scent with closed eyes. “I can’t wait for the kids to pop out more of these.”

“Pop out,” Sharon repeated, promptly snort-laughing. “Oh, God,” she added in a thin, amused voice, her head flopping down to stifle her giggles behind the palm of her hand.

The baby wiggled against Andy again, trying to lift her head, eyes wide and curious about the unexpected and strange noise. He turned her around so she could see her giggling grandmother, then on a smirk intended for Sharon, told her, “Look, look,” he shrugged his shoulder as if to point at Sharon with her, “she’s laughing at you, kiddo, can you believe it?”

Even as she continued to laugh, Sharon swatted at him. “Oh, no,” she walked toward the baby, then gently clasped her cheeks when she was graced with a gummy smile, “I just adore you, little one.” She poked Andy in the ribs for good measure, and added with an exaggeration that was rather true, “More than anything in the whole wide world.”

Andy let out a sarcastic, and very confident, “Aha…”

His mere voice had the baby drop her head back onto his shoulder, and he laughed, turning back around to face Sharon. “See, still her favorite.” Shit-eating fell short in describing the grin on his face.

“Oh,” Sharon didn’t know what she wanted to say, and before she could even try to decide, she found herself taking the one step between them, clasping his face, and kissing him soundly on the mouth, then finally, and quite lamely, said, “you.”

Andy laughed, and kissed her once quickly, too. “What can I say,” he shrugged, and quirked his eyebrow innocently as he tilted his head, “I’m a charming guy.”

The baby was now completely alert, and she started making disagreeing noises before Sharon could respond, or most likely smack him again. When Andy turned her around and settled her into the crook of his elbow though, she quickly settled again, and he ran his fingers gently over the top of her onesie, just under her chin. “What do you say grandma continues that song of hers, huh?”

The baby just made some indiscernible garbling noises, but Andy took it for a yes, and added, flashing Sharon a quick grin, “I know, it’s like an angel singing.” When Sharon rolled her eyes at him, he added, already prepared to run away from her, “Who’d have thunk it, huh, a big bad meanie like that singing so,” he feigned a groan, “gooood?”

Yup, he had to duck quickly before Sharon could smack him again, and it made the baby clutch at his T-shirt again for his abrupt movement, but he quickly rocked her a few times and mumbled reassuringly, “No worries, I got you,” until she relaxed.

Sharon glared at him playfully. “You know what?” Her tone indicated Andy was about to get the short stick of whatever decision she just made. “How about I go get dressed for the day, and you,” she reached the baby and tickled her belly, making her squirm, “get grandpa to change your diaper in the meantime?”

Andy shot her a wide-eyed look of not horror, but betrayal. They both knew it was Sharon’s turn for diaper-duty, but Sharon barked out a laugh, studiously ignoring the fact, and said, “See, grandpa can’t wait for it!”

Before Andy could so much as think of a retort, Sharon had plopped a gentle parting kiss to Mia’s head, and was walking away, happily singing again.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: No Place Like Home (baon)

Summary:   Stretch is home from the hospital but there are some wounds that need more than a doctor to heal.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Therapy, Mentions of Depression

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge was worried.

Ever since they’d gotten home from the hospital, Stretch was terribly quiet, subdued, and Edge didn’t like it, not one bit.

Since Stretch’s HP had been stable, once his magic had leveled out the hospital had been fine with releasing him. Not wanting his husband to have to stay any longer than necessary, Edge brought him fresh clothes; one of his favorite sweatshirts and track pants that had been worn to softness. Comfortable clothing that Stretch had pulled on awkwardly, so much so that Edge busied himself tidying the room instead of watching, gathering up the few books that Blue had brought and packing Stretch’s dirty clothes.

It hadn’t ended there. Stretch had been so quiet on the way home, staring out the window, and the radio’s attempt at filling the silence had been feeble at best.

They’d gotten home all too quickly and Stretch had been sitting on the sofa watching mindless television ever since, not sprawled out like normal but with his legs drawn up against his chest and his arms wrapped around them, a blanket draped over his shoulders. Only his sockets peered over his raised knees and what little Edge could see of his expression spoke of misery.

So, yes, he was worried.

Sitting nearby in a chair while he folded towels, Edge kept half an eye on Stretch, taking in his drawn appearance, his dimmed eye lights.

Almost, Edge asked him if wanted to lay down in the bedroom and needed a hand up the stairs. He hesitated on it, letting the words die unspoken. Edge hadn’t asked to help him inside when they’d gotten home, instead allowing Stretch to walk in under his own steam, and he was wondering now if that was a mistake. He’d been trying to allow him a degree of independence after being denied it in the hospital, and with his brother, but perhaps Stretch was taking the lack of offer as a rejection.

It hadn't been meant that way. Edge wasn’t angry, not anymore.

At the hospital, ah, that had been an exercise in restraint. Blue’s persistent mollycoddling was frustrating, it always set his teeth on edge, but worse was Stretch was meekly allowing all of it. Normally, he’d be sighing and sassing his brother in minutes, often getting railroaded but at least making the attempt. The past couple days? He hadn’t offered a word of complaint, not one.

He was too quiet, his easy chatter silenced. Consumed by guilt most likely, and probably would be for days. After all this, Edge was expecting a major depressive episode and he'd been toying with the idea of calling Stretch's therapist to see if he could schedule an extra appointment this week. He'd decided against it, thinking it better to discuss it with him first, allowing him to make the choice.

As much as Edge's first instinct was to tighten his hold on the proverbial leash, to take control, he knew himself well enough to know that giving in to that impulse would be a mistake. Stretch’s guilt would probably allow it for a time, but eventually he'd chafe against it, the same as he did with his brother. To be honest, Edge never wanted to see Stretch at the point where he’d give in to something like that for any length of time.

He wanted to care for Stretch, not control him.

And as awful as everything in the past couple days had been, Stretch had made a mistake, it happened, and Edge had already forgiven him for it. It seemed like forgiving himself was going to take Stretch more time.

But that didn’t mean Edge was going to watch his love sit in silent misery, not without even trying to help.

Enough of this.

He set the folded towels into the basket, pushing it aside. Stretch yelped when he scooped him up blanket and all, turning to sit with him in his lap. Edge settled him carefully with his back against the sofa arm, tucking the warm softness of the blanket around him.

“hey, babe,” Stretch said, weakly. His smile was forced, and Edge felt a deep pang at the sight. Part of this was his fault, he knew; he’d shaken Stretch’s faith in their relationship, much as he hadn’t meant to. He’d done what was necessary at the time and now he needed to fix this, give him whatever reassurance he needed.

“I want you to listen to me,” Edge said firmly. “Are you listening?”

Stretch gave a startled blink and said uncertainly, “yes?”

“You need to stop punishing yourself.”

“i’m not—”

“Aren’t you?” Edge countered. Stretch looked away. “Love, it is hurting my soul to see you so unhappy. Yes, you made a mistake. Yes, I was angry with you. Can I assume you won’t make the same mistake again?”

“yes,” Stretch said, his voice small.

“All right.” He tapped Stretch gently on the temple. “Then forget it, love. I know that’s easy for me to say. But I’m going say it until I’m sure it sticks. We don’t need to live in that mistake forever. I’ve forgiven you. Work on forgiving yourself, please?”

A single tear trailed from his socket, pale orange, and Edge wiped it away with a gloved thumb. “You’re always so hard on yourself. Now, what can I do to make you feel better? A snack? Something to drink?”

Edge would have given a great deal to not have seen the nervousness that flickered over Stretch’s expression before he blurted out, “can you hold me for a while?”

“Of course.” Not a problem, at all. Gently, he tugged Stretch closer, letting him bury his face into Edge’s shirt, one of his hands sliding back to clasp the back of Edge’s skull. Edge closed his sockets, resting his cheekbone against Stretch’s head and breathing in his sweetness. There was a lingering aroma of the hospital, sharp disinfectant. Before they went to bed, he was going to run Stretch a bath, let him scrub that last reminder away so he could come to their bed clean and fresh.

For now, he simply wanted to indulge himself, glut himself on the feeling of Stretch in his arms, his light weight in his lap. There hadn’t been much opportunity in the hospital, and he’d been craving this, a chance to reassure himself that Stretch was all right, warm and alive under his touch. It had been entirely too close a call; like always, Lady Luck might not take him by the hand, but she brushed by him in passing.

“Rus?”

“hm?” He waited until Stretch looked up at him. His eye lights were already softer, hazy with contentment.

He pressed their foreheads together, blurring his own vision, and said, firmly, “I would never leave you.”

Stretch gave him a wobbly smile, but he didn’t pull away. “heh, you say that now, but what if i went all superman 3 on you and started hacking my way through the city.”

“I meant what I said.” He might not give promises the same weight as Stretch and the Sanses, but this was one he had no intention of breaking. He didn’t care what happened. So long as Stretch wanted to be with him, that was where he would be.

He could feel Stretch take a shaky breath, nodding slowly. “okay, yeah. i get it.”

Edge pressed a kiss to Stretch’s cheekbone then murmured, “And if you went all Superman 3, I’d simply have to take care of you myself.”

That earned him a startled laugh, “um. wow. thanks? love murder is the best.”

“The truest sign of caring is never allowing someone to live on as a monster they’d despise,” Edge said serenely. He curled a finger beneath Stretch’s chin, tilting his head up, “However, I’m thinking the odds of that happening are very low. I doubt you’d manage to hack your way through half the town before you got bored.”

“a quarter is probably pushing it,” Stretch agreed breathlessly, leaning in for a soft kiss. “i love you, babe.”

“I love you,” Edge murmured back, stealing another slow kiss. Eventually, Stretch pulled away with a sigh, settling to rest his head on Edge’s shoulder. He drew the blanket back up, tucking it closer around them both, letting Stretch take comfort in his own natural warmth.

The television was droning on and early as it was, he could feel Stretch’s breathing evening out as he gave in to exhaustion and stress, drowsing against him. Good; he needed the rest and Edge needed the opportunity.

After he fell asleep, Edge was going to exchange the e-cigarette he knew Stretch had tucked into his hoodie pocket for the one he had hidden in his. He'd even taken a puff off it a couple of times to make sure it had a used appearance, vile as it was.

Whatever tracking device or microphone Red had secreted in that little 'gift' wasn’t about to remain in their house, and Edge was in no doubt that there was one, more likely both. It left him torn between irritation and exasperation at Red; he and his brother were going to have to have another long, likely useless, talk about boundaries.

Until then, he snidely hoped his brother was getting a good earful of them exchanging love words and kisses. It would serve him right.

-finis-

[ciphers-fr]

(Mis)Fortune

so i had started this a year ago and pretty thoroughly lost my groove for it by the end. take that as you will yeehaw 

-----------------------------------------

It seemed to have been one of those exceedingly rare days in her life, where what she thought was impossible wandered up before her and the best thing to do would be to stand back and enjoy it. And that was exactly what Ciphers was planning to do. 

What were the chances that all seven of her familiars would be gathered in the same place at the same time? It was only Bonehead that lived in-Clan permanently; the others were flung far across Sornieth, free to drift and migrate and return home whenever they pleased. But here they all were, gathered together out in front of the Lair as the dragoness lounged in the warm sunlight. 

Sure, the Winter Wolf and Trick of the Light were at the Lair more often than not, but it never stopped Bonehead from acting as though it hadn’t seen them in months when the two arrived back after a trek. The trio had been together so long they were nigh inseparable. So when the wolf and fox did go, their return meant a lot of play needed to be caught up.

Speaking of, she grinned down at her three longest held familiars as they wrestled. While the Winter Wolf had size on her side, it seemed that the exuberant Nochnyr and Trick of the Light had teamed up to pin the canine down, her back legs thrashing in the air. The three yipped and barked and kicked volleys of sand into the air.

The other four were not nearly as active. The Wetland Unicorn and Maned Cerdae snuffed through the foliage of the oasis garden, seeking out the choicest leaves to graze on. And the Tigerblood Foo and Pronghorn Hunter stood sentinel, eerily watching over the horizon for any danger that might encroach upon their companions. 

Though, it seemed, the beasts’ wariness did have a warrant. 

The Foo sprang to his paws, a growl rumbling deep in his throat, as a large Ridgeback unceremoniously sauntered out of the lush growth. Long, lazy strides across the sand quickly drew the dragon closer to the group and the Foo’s growl rose to a snarl. The new arrival cast one raised brow at the cat as she approached but otherwise seemed unbothered by the beast’s warning. 

Ciphers frowned as she rose to her feet. The orders stated she had to greet the dragoness as well as find out what business she might have with the Clan. She squinted, trying to get a better look at the visitor. Hmm. The Ridgeback was unfamiliar. Green, brown, and blue…? No, can’t remember seeing anyone with those colors or genes. Wait-- wh-what is that? She leaned forward and gagged. Oh Stormcatcher, why does she have so many eyes?

Lips pursed to try to keep herself from retching, Ciphers watched as the Ridgeback strode forward and stopped just a few meters away. Only then did she notice the burlap sack perched between the other dragoness’ wings. 

“Well,” the Ridgeback spoke first. “You’re, ah, Ciphers?”

The Imperial blinked. “Y-yes?”

“Gotta say, miss, that was definitely one of my hardest jobs. That lil dog put up a real fight, but I got ‘em.”

“Him?” Ciphers yelped, one paw grappling for the Pronghorn Hunter, who was creeping towards the other dragoness. The beast dropped to all fours and stepped back, snorting.

“Don’t cha remember your order?”

“No?!”

“Yeah… Couple ’a months ago you asked me to fetch some fella who wronged you, I guess,” the Ridgeback began to explain as Ciphers’ head dropped into her claws, silently bemoaning ‘Rime Fever.’ “Anyways, big clan, lotta dragons. Pretty tough to get in there without gettin’ seen. Not to mention how slippery he was to try an’ catch. I’d say he’s had alotta experience with runnin’ away.”

The bounty hunter barked a laugh as she tipped to one side, wing outstretched, to roll the sack to the ground. And just as it hit the soft sand, the contents inside began to thrash wildly. The Ridgeback dipped her head at the writhing mass, “Ah, don’t worry much. He’s pretty well bound.

“But if that’s all, I best be off. And if your wonderin’,” she turned to the side and winked one bulbous green eye on her flank. “Ya don’t often have someone to watch your back in this business, so ya gotta do it yourself.”

Chortling again, the Ridgeback leaped into the air and beat a hasty retreat.

Ciphers was left dumbstruck, staring silently at the still twitching burlap sack. Her train of thought, however, was in a completely different world. 

That… That was months ago! It had been just after the Gala when she made that impulsive decision, still under the hazy, heady effect of the Fever. And now it was nearing the Jubilee. Four months, Ciphers thought to herself. It took only four months for me to forget that I paid for someone to be kidnapped.

She sunk down slowly and dropped to her side, the heat of the sand and dust barely registering in the back of mind. Guilt clawed its way into her belly. How could she have been so consumed by what? Petty anger? 

And someone just ripped away from who knows? A new home? Fledgling friendships? 

To be fair, she was pretty sure that the clan he was in prior had also kidnapped him. And that didn’t exactly bode well for chances of good relations. And, wow, that must be some pretty bad luck on his part to get kidnapped twice in a row--

No. Ciphers was getting off track from the fact of this ordeal. There was a dragon. That she had had kidnapped. Writhing around in a bag in front of her. 

She frowned, her cheek rubbing uncomfortably against the sand below her. Getting him out of the bag would probably be the best thing to do right now, right? So, trepidatiously, she picked herself back onto her paws and approached the sack.

For the moment, the burlap was still beyond the quick up and down of the dragon within’s breathing. Silent, too. Ciphers couldn’t tell whether he was just tired out, or biding his time until he could fight or flee.

 She paused as she wondered over how she should proceed. Slowly and carefully? Or quickly, like ripping off an old bandage. Perhaps the latter would be better. At least in that way she could leap back before he was even aware and avoid the chance of a slash to the face. Decided, she crept closer to the sack and hooked one sharpened claw into the rough fabric. 

It tore much easier than she thought it would, the dry burlap giving out at the slight touch. The dragon inside twitched at the motion and before Ciphers could think, she flinched, jumping back and ripping the bag open with a harsh sound. 

Heart beating in her throat, she watched as the ruined sack fall open to reveal the dragon inside. Indeed it was the skeevy purple and grey Mirror from the Gala (Fortune, a voice whispered in the back of her mind). He was bound and gagged with vines that browned and broke away at the first touch of the hot sunlight. And at the new found freedom he twisted and shook his head.

The Mirror stumbled onto shaky legs and blinked once, twice. He scowled as he took in his new environment, the sun shining bright in his eyes. Then he whipped his head towards the Imperial with a dour look smeared across his face.

“What the hell?” he croaked. 

“Well, uh…” Ciphers grappled for words, claws digging into the ground beneath her. “I-- I--”

“Wait! No,” Fortune cut her off. “I saw you slinking in the crowds at my Gala event. Were you trying to profile me?!”

She balked at the accusation. “What? No!”

“Then why did you get me kidnapped?!”

“Brx vdqfwlrqhg fdw mxjjolqj,” Ciphers muttered under her breath. If she remembered anything clearly from that week, it was that spectacle. But questionable feline treatments alone wouldn’t make a worthwhile reasoning for that and trying to explain Rime Fever and its effects would be a monumental task in itself. “That’s kinda hard to answer right now, but if you’d let me…”

“So ya think I’m just stand here and listen to someone who went and kidnapped me? That’s funny,” Fortune turned as though to make his leave, but it seemed the Tigerblood Foo had anticipated it. The familiar stood in the dragon’s way, a silent snarl on his snout. 

Ciphers was frozen where she stood. A lot had happened in just the past few minutes and she didn’t have a single clue of what she should be doing. Could she just let Fortune leave? Should she let him leave? The Expanse could be dangerous for someone ill prepared and it would only weigh more on her conscience if he ended up getting hurt-- or worse (Well, that, and she still did kind of want him to atone for his crimes). She wracked her brains for anything that could get him to stop, even for just a few minutes.

“Oh, wait!” She yelped and scrambled to stand between her Foo familiar and Fortune, breaking their staredown. “Do you still have those circus dragons after you?”

He looked away. Hitting the number one target on what was likely a long list of enemies must have been a sore spot. “That cheating, thieving Fae son of a…” He shifted his wings. “Probably. Why do you care?”

“We could help, maybe?”

Fortune looked speculative, but didn’t say anything. 

“I mean… The Clan would probably keep you safe if you let us. You can say you just wanted some help and a refuge, and I don’t get in trouble for, uh, kidnapping. Okay?”

“Not having to worry about getting thrown in a dungeon would be great, but a fifteen thousand gem debt isn’t something that gonna be easily forgotten. And love and support won’t pass for payment either.”

“We can pay that. More if they demanded so.”

Fortune raised a scaled brow, intrigued at the blatant mention of a heavy hoard. “That’s real nice and all, but I’m still not really keen on hanging around the lair of a dragon who nabbed me.”

“Listen,” Ciphers bowed her head. “I feel… pretty bad about all that. And while it doesn’t make it any better, it doesn’t seem like it’s a great idea for either of us if you go out there right now. So if you just work with me here, I’ll try to explain and figure everything out. And you’ll be treated just like anyone else here. I-- I swear. To the Stormcatcher or whatever else you’d want” (And as though the deity heard, despite the clear skies, low thunder rumbled overheard).

A silent moment passed between the two dragons before Fortune coughed. “Fine.” He shrugged, “Guess the chance to not have to worry about things for once is just too good to pass up on.”

Ciphers blinked in surprise. “Oh, uh, well.” She paused again, ruffling her wings. “I guess we’ll just go in now and I’ll tell everyone.”

She dismissed her familiars that still prowled with a flick of her tail as she shuffled her way to the Lair entrance. It all itched at her; it seemed almost too easy to convince the dragon to go along with her half baked plan. But if he had nothing to lose… Nope. Nothing to dwell over, it was done. And assuming there would be no backstabbing or doublecrossing, there wouldn't be anything to worry about in the future either.

Kin in conspiracy. 

Yes, that would be her and Fortune. Bound forevermore by lies only the two of them would know (And with the deities' graces, Khione, Jaynum and Persephus would fall for the tale and never suspect anything too).

Ciphers keened silently. This would be a test of will and patience if there ever was one. Not to mention having to keep a straight story for whoever knows how long. But such were the prices of Rime Fever, and now it was time to pay her debts.

It was only when she reached the mouth of the Lair did she look back over her shoulder. Fortune was padding after her. Perhaps with a bit of a limp, but otherwise without a seeming care in the world. So I really do have to do this.

With a final deep breath, she steeled herself for what was about to come. It would be a strange time, but it was the mess she drew herself into and she needed to see it out. Who knows, it might end up better for everyone in the end. So with what would most likely be the newest member of the Clan at her heel, Ciphers stepped in.

--------------------------------------

“So let me get this straight. This was all caused by some weird… something-fever that just so happens during Ice Season that makes everyone act crazy for a few weeks.”

“That pretty well sums it up, I guess.”

“And if I stay here long enough, it’s gonna happen to me too?”

“Probably not like that. That was up there but not the, uh, worst thing to happen so far.”

“Well,” Fortune settled back on his haunches. He’d been tended, and dressed, and fed and watered to his heart’s content. “All in all, it’s not the worst thing I’ve had to deal with so far.”

[hxseok-honee]

The Front Door | college roommate!hoseok

I’m just going to leave this here... I was in the mood to write some soft hobi content I couldn’t stop myself. Pls enjoy :)

She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept at a normal, human time. Unsurprisingly, she also couldn’t remember the last real meal she’d consumed. It didn’t matter really, she just needed to make sure her final went well. There were just a little over two days before her exam, but she still felt completely lost.

You would think going to every lecture and doing all the homework should be enough… Fuck, where have I seen that formula before? Do I need that??

Letting her head fall heavily against the wood of the kitchen table, she failed to hear the familiar creak of his bedroom door opening as he rushed to put his shoes on and head to class. He was running late - a rarity for him - and he had forgotten to send the notes from yesterday’s TA session to his lab partner, so he was trying in vain to get them to load on his phone as he stumbled over to the front door.

Hoseok barely took notice of her slumped form as he tripped over his own feet to get to the door, but he realized the feeling was drastically more depressing in her little corner of the room. Taking a second look at her as he yanked his coat and hat on, he wondered if she was finally sleeping or if she was just moping in the standard finals-week style. Glancing down at his phone and celebrating internally when his file registered as having been sent, he paused once more at the door to rip open his bag and pull out the granola bar and banana he always kept stocked.

“Yo, sleepy head.” She lifted her head just enough to rest her chin on the table, gazing sadly at him. He rolled his eyes at her expression, winding his arm back. “Catch.” She had barely enough time to scream and fling her body back into her chair to avoid getting pelted with the snacks. Looking back at him as he was opening the door, their eyes met one last time.

“I thought these were your snacks for dance practice?” He just chuckled as he started swinging the door closed behind him.

“You need them more than I do right now. See you tonight!” And with that, she was left in silence as she gazed at the door he always neglected to lock after he left.

It’s a shock we haven’t gotten robbed yet.

Looking down at his phone, he sighed as the screen glared back at him in the dark, reading a little past 8pm. It had been a long and stressful day, filled with more mishaps and setbacks than his days usually brought. Still mulling over the scolding he had gotten for being late to work even though he had tried to explain that his professor had kept class in session past the end time, his feet led him past the small Chinese restaurant that was wedged between his favorite coffee shop and his roommate’s favorite bookstore.

Pausing in front of the door, he considered walking in. The sign said they were open until 9, and he couldn’t remember if they had any groceries at home that didn’t consist of instant ramen and untouched apples.

No, I shouldn’t. She’s going to be so upset that I’m spending money after I told her I was trying to save for Christmas gifts for the boys.

As if summoned by his mere thoughts, his phone dinged loudly in the quiet street with a message from the dance crew group chat. Eyes skimming over the message asking him to have the rest of the choreography planned by the end of the week, he sighed loudly. His breath lingered in the cold December air as he shoved his phone into his coat pocket. Reaching forward and pushing the door to the small, dimly lit restaurant, he decided that for tonight, at the very least, he would let himself splurge a bit.

After he placed the rather large order at the counter and gave his phone number for them to call when the food was ready, he wandered next door to the coffee shop and got his usual drink- the cheapest thing on the menu. It wasn’t the best, but it did the trick. The seating area was nice, too. If the days weren’t so cold, he would make the trip here more often. He considered bringing her tomorrow to give her an environment change and some inspiration. Smiling to himself into the lid of the cup, he wandered over to the tiny bookstore to kill some more time.

It didn’t take him long to realize he wanted to buy everything in the store. Not for him; he wasn’t patient enough to be satisfied reading books. He blamed his dancer’s body for that. No, he wanted to buy them all for her. She had been so stressed lately, he could tell she missed the simple pleasures of sitting by the window and reading until she couldn’t see the page anymore.

I mean, Christmas is around the corner… Maybe just one? She can’t get mad if it’s a gift, right?

As it turns out, it wasn’t just one. By the time the restaurant called him, he had finished his coffee and held four large books in his arms, along with one of those reusable eco-friendly tote bags that had cheesy sayings on them. He was waiting as the clerk rang up his items, drumming his fingers on the counter as he let his eyes wander over the little trinkets systematically placed to be picked up at the last moment. Even knowing he was falling for those tricks, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down quickly and snatching up a bookmark and a keychain with a cute cartoon character on it. Handing the items over with a sheepish smile at the smirking employee, he was in the process of pulling out his card when the clerk spoke, humor evident in her voice.

“Your girlfriend is going to love all of these impulse buys.” The debit card slipped from between his fingers, falling to the counter with a noise that echoed loudly in his ringing ears.

Girlfriend?

Blinking quickly and attempting to mask the shock on his face, he cleared his throat and picked up the card, handing it over to her as smoothly as possible.

“Haha, yeah. She’s going to kill me for spending so much money, but it’s almost Christmas, so…” He trailed off with a light chuckle, retrieving his card and the bag from the girl, shoving everything into his backpack as he smiled half-heartedly at her and wished her a happy holiday on his way out.

It was only when he had stepped into the restaurant to pick up his food as the clock read 8:45 that he realized the words that had come out of his mouth in the bookstore just then. He let out what she would describe as a ‘typical Hobi screech’, frightening the old man waiting for him at the counter. Covering his mouth quickly, he apologized to the man and paid for his food, trudging out into the street anxiously as he replayed his words over and over again in his head until he felt like the world would end.

Glaring down at her notes as she had been doing all day, she decided as the clock neared 8:30 that she was going to do what all college students do eventually and accept her fated failure with open arms. After slamming her books closed and contemplating throwing them out the window, she stomped to her room and flung herself onto her bed. Rolling over to stare at the ceiling, she wondered in passing where Hoseok was. He usually arrived home later than most given his work and dance schedules, but he was almost always walking in the door at 8:15 to nag her about tidying her shoes at the door and making food that wouldn’t kill her before the age of 25.

Shivering slightly at the draft that lingered in the air from the unbearably cold weather, she wrapped herself up in her blankets and reached for her phone, staring at the picture of her and Hoseok on her lock screen. Shaking her head at the thoughts of him that made her heart flutter, she unlocked her phone and considered texting him to see if he was alright before deciding against it and opening up Twitter.

She only managed to scroll for a couple minutes before her mind started drifting back to her roommate. She thought that after being his roommate for the three years they had been in college that she would have found all his flaws and expelled all these annoying feelings she got when she thought of him for too long.

She had, indeed, found his flaws. The way he would beg her for the answers to their homework when he had forgotten, yet again, to do it himself. The annoying smirk that would grace his features when he knew he had won one of their petty disagreements about the most unimportant shit. His habit of bursting into her room on the weekends when she had slept in too late, screeching his head off about how lonely he was. His inability to lock the fucking door on his way out. And yet..

Shaking her head violently so she wouldn’t allow herself to think about how cute he was even at those times, she almost missed the front door opening, followed by the usual muffled announcement of his presence. Rolling out of bed, she patted her hair down as she wandered into the hallway.

“Hobi?” She could hear his chuckle.

“No, the apartment robber.” She scoffed at his response as he came into full view.

“Yeah, well, with the way you leave the place unlocked all the time I wouldn’t be surprised- what’s that?” Letting her socked feet carry her to the kitchen, she stared questioningly at the bag he had placed on the counter. He shook his head at her, pinching her cheek as he passed her on his way to put his bag in his room and, more importantly, hide his bookstore purchases from her.

“What the fuck do you think it is, genius? I hope you haven’t eaten yet, I think I ordered enough to feed seven people.” Rubbing her face where he had attacked her, she leaned forward and stuck her head in the bag. Feeling her stomach react immediately to the sights and smells, she pulled the food out and turned to grab plates, only to find him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he stared at her.

Ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat, she tilted her head to the side and smiled at him. It was him, this time, that tried to calm his erratic heart. So he did what he did best; stretching his face into a smile that she only ever described as being as bright as the sun, he screeched his loudest ‘Hobi screech’ as he leaned forward and captured her face in his hands, still cold from being outside.

Allowing herself to be yanked into his embrace, she only winced slightly at the pitch of his scream, choosing to focus instead on the steady heartbeat coming from the spot where her ear met his chest. They stayed like that while Hoseok asked her how her studying went, while she answered that she had given up and accepted her fate. They stayed like that while he ran his fingers through her hair and told her he was just glad she was finally giving herself some time to take a break. They stayed like that when they no longer had words and she was just leaning into him, listening to the heartbeat of the boy she loved, when he threaded his fingers through her hair and wished silently for this to continue for the rest of his life.

It was only the sound of her stomach betraying her once again that prompted him to laugh loudly and grip her shoulders, pushing her back just enough to look at her embarrassed face. Pinching her cheek once more, he released her, trying to ignore the way his heart sank as he did so while she tried to clear her mind of any thoughts that wished for the situation to occur again.

They ate dinner in front of the TV, arguing over what to watch until they were forced to put on Train to Busan again and leave the remote across the room so neither of them would be tempted. Gradually and without them realizing, they had done what they always did and drifted together until they were curled up on the couch watching the zombies eat everything on the train. She sighed at the familiar scene before her.

“I just have a hard time believing-” she was cut off by the sound of his groan as his head flopped back against the cushions. She stared up at him as he spoke in that position, watching his Adam’s Apple bob up and down as he responded.

“I swear if you say one more time that you can’t believe that they managed to get up onto the storage shelves without any zombies hearing them, I’m throwing this TV out the window.” She was on the verge of arguing with him yet again when he decided now would be the best time he could possibly think of to lift his head and look at her, not knowing how close they really were.

Her words lodged themselves in her throat at his nose brushed hers. He seemed to be equally as stunned based on the way his eyes grew to twice their original size almost immediately. Neither of them allowed any breath to pass between them, and she decided maybe if she kept talking they could diffuse the situation and return to normal. Her voice came out in a whisper, cracking in a way that made her want to crawl into a hole and never emerge again, but she pushed forward.

“I’m just saying that-” But yet again she found herself being cut off by him, although she can say for certain that this had never happened before.

It was when she started speaking again that he lost his mind. How she could just attempt to pretend they weren’t in a precarious situation to begin with, he would never know. He didn’t really care. All he knew is that his mind had gone completely blank when her voice had cracked, his body propelling itself forward without his permission.

When his lips landed on hers, she honestly believed the earth had stopped moving. Even he would say later that he thought the universe was breaking when he had first kissed her. But in that moment, all she could do was blink once, twice, before she pulled back quickly, her breath still not returning to her. At least he looked equally as shocked as she did.

When his eyes met hers, all he had time to think was, well, shit, before he tore his eyes from hers, trying to come up with any possible excuse. While he thought frantically in the piercing silence, she was staring at him, unable to do anything except wonder why she hadn’t kissed back. Why she still hadn’t.

He had just decided on the half-assed excuse that it had been some sort of accident when he felt her arms go around his neck, and he barely had time to inhale sharply before she had leaned forward and captured his lips in her own.

That was the second time he lost his mind that night. Reacting immediately, he pulled her close enough to make her feel like she might actually end up melded to him. They stayed like that for several minutes, high on each other, until they felt almost simultaneously that they might die of oxygen deprivation if they didn’t stop.

Hoseok pulled away slowly, keeping his face close to hers as she leaned forward and put her face in the curve of his neck, placing a light kiss on his collarbone as her body folded into his. Reaching up to put his hand in her hair again, running his fingers through the strands that had become familiar to him today, he tried to stop the huge grin from spreading across his face, but he could feel her grinning too so he didn’t try too hard. He was gathering the courage to ask her to finally be his when he felt her sit up abruptly, breaking his focus. She stared into his soul until he was dying to hear what she had to say. When she opened her mouth, he found himself leaning forward so as not to miss anything, feeling how important this was going to be.

“... Did you lock the front door?”

[paulckrueger]

When to Sell Stocks: The ONLY 3 Reasons To Sell (EVER)

Should I sell my stocks? 

It’s possibly one of the most common questions in the stock-trading world. 

When to sell stocks or hold them mostly depends on your AGE.

If you’re closer to (or at) retirement age, you’ve likely been investing for a while and can sell your investments to live off of for your retirement.

If you’re younger, though, this isn’t the case. In fact, if you’re in your 20s and 30s, there are only three good reasons to sell your investments:

You need money for an emergency

You made a terrible investment that’s consistently underperforming

You achieved a specific goal

But what about those who have already invested in their 401k, Roth IRA, and index funds? If you already have your retirement accounts sorted and are now just experimenting with different individual stocks, should you still sell? Or do you keep hold of those stocks for later in life for an even bigger retirement?

That’s what we’re covering in this article, so keep reading to discover whether selling individual stocks is the best move for you (and when it isn’t).

If you setup a good financial foundation for yourself, you’ll never be strapped for cash again. Find out how in my FREE Ultimate Guide to Personal Finance.

When should you sell a stock: 5 main reasons to cash out 

How to know when to sell a stock is the million-dollar question. There are usually only five good reasons to sell a stock besides cashing out for retirement.

1. You made a bad investment

We all make mistakes and when it comes to the stock market, you can never be sure what will happen. 

If you have individual stocks that appear to be underperforming (consistently), it may be time to cut your losses before those losses stack up even higher. 

However, if you believe the market will recover (which it usually does), you may decide to hold onto your stocks and ride out the waves. A lot of people will suggest you do just that, and for the most part, that’s good advice. 

If you have index funds, then this is almost certainly what you should do because the market will recover and if your index funds are down, it means the whole market is down.

But what about the exceptions to the rule? Is there ever a good time to sell a bad investment? 

Here’s how to know when to sell a stock…

How to decide when to sell an underperforming stock

Let’s say you have a consumer goods stock that has halved in value over the past three years. It’s consistently gone down. 

Before panic-selling, take a good look at the wider industry. 

If other goods like it are also in decline, then you know it’s the industry, not just your stock. Everything’s doing poorly. This gives you a bit of extra context.

All industries experience declines for a variety of reasons. Maybe the industry is no longer as viable as it once was. Maybe competitors have changed the playing field a bit too much. 

But let’s talk about this conceptually to understand when to sell an investment for poor performance. If you pulled up a list of your investments and saw this chart, what would you do?

  Consumer-Goods Stock Price Date Price Date Price 6/3/2002 33.43 1/3/2006 23.78 1/2/2003 31.53 6/1/2006 23.90 6/2/2003 31.01 1/3/2007 26.29 1/2/2004 35.55 6/1/2007 27.28 6/1/2004 35.45 1/2/2008 22.91 1/3/2005 26.45 5/2/2008 20.61 6/1/2005 28.17    

“Holy crap,” you might be saying. “That’s a crappy stock. I need to sell it before I lose all of my investment!”

    Slow down. Instead of freaking out and selling your stock faster than you can scream, “SELL! SELL! SELL!” into a phone, look at the context.

Knowing that the example is a consumer-goods stock, how is the rest of the consumer-goods industry doing?

  Consumer Goods Industry Index Date Price Date Price 6/3/2002 50 1/3/2006 38 1/2/2003 49 6/1/2006 36 6/2/2003 45 1/3/2007 32 1/2/2004 42 6/1/2007 30 6/1/2004 44 1/2/2008 31 1/3/2005 40 5/2/2008 29 6/1/2005 38    

  By looking at the stock and the surrounding industry, you see that the entire industry is in decline. It’s not your particular investment. They’re all doing poorly.

Now, this raises questions about the industry, but it also gives you a context to explain your stock’s plunging returns. And just because they’re plunging, by the way, doesn’t mean that you should sell immediately.

That’s part of the reason why buying individual stocks can be a bit of a pain. You need to keep a close eye on them and their respective industries to check performance. Your money is often better off in an index fund where it’s spread across multiple companies. 

2. The stock has reached your target price

Savvy investors will often set a target price when they buy a stock. This is the figure that they would be happy to sell the stock for. 

While a set price may be difficult for even the most experienced investors, having a price range in mind gives you a solid enough target. Once you’ve reached that point, consider selling it and enjoy the gains.

Another good time to sell a stock is when you reach a money goal. 

‘Buy and hold’ is a great strategy for ultra-long-term investments, but lots of people invest in stocks to hit short or medium-term money goals, not just retirement.

For example, “I’m going to invest for a dream vacation to Thailand. I don’t need to take the trip any time soon, so I’ll just put $100/month into my investing account.”

The great thing about this is that the money will compound and grow with a higher interest rate if you invest it into a diversified index like the S&P 500. The average savings account offers 0.06% APY — whereas the S&P 500 returns around 8% each year. So for savings goals that are further into the future, there’s nothing wrong with “saving” in an investment account.

Just make sure all your savings aren’t tied up in investments because you never know which way the market will swing. 

Having a separate savings account for money you need to access fast (e.g., an emergency) is a much safer bet. That way, you’re not cashing out during a dip and making a loss. If your goal is less than five years away, you should set up a savings goal in your savings account. For more information on that, check out our article on sub-savings accounts.

If you’ve invested money for a longer-term goal and you’ve achieved it, sell and don’t think twice. That’s a great investing success, and you should use the money for whatever your original goal was. You earned it, after all.

3. The stock’s valuation is high

The stock market can be unpredictable, just take the madness of GameStop for instance. 

Sometimes the stock market will overvalue the stock and set a market price that doesn’t seem to correspond to the expected earnings of the company.

Similarly, if the earnings expectation of the company dips but the stock price hasn’t … it’s probably only a matter of time before the stock decreases too.

In either of these cases, you might want to consider selling and cashing in the profits before the value crashes.  

4. Selling for opportunity cost

If you’re serious about making money in the stock market, you should always be on the lookout for new opportunities. 

If you spot a stock that you think has a lot of potential but your money is tied up in other investments, you may want to sell your existing stocks. 

Even if your stock is performing well enough, if a better opportunity comes along, it can pay to jump on it. Of course, there’s no guarantee either way whether this new stock will perform better. But you could be missing out if you play it safe and don’t make that leap. 

Whatever you do, make sure it’s a calculated and well-researched move. Don’t do it on impulse!

5. You need the money for an emergency

Sometimes disaster strikes and catches your wallet by surprise. In an ideal world, you’d have a nice big cash safety cushion to pick at in times like these. But sometimes it’s just too hard to prepare or predict.

If you have money in stocks, cashing them out might be inevitable if you have an emergency. 

This could involve:

Medical bills from accidents or illnesses

Big car repairs

Home repairs

Job loss

Economic crashes

When not to sell a stock

If none of the above applies to you, then in most cases, you should hold onto them. Yes, even if your stock dips. There is never an easy way to work out when to sell stocks. Just because your stock has dropped doesn’t mean you should panic-sell. It’s all about context. The next time you see a stock tumble in value, ask yourself:

Is the wider market seeing similar dips?

Has something happened in the company or the news to make it dip?

Has the company performed this way before and recovered (or not)?

What does the competition look like? If they haven’t dipped either, find out why that is.

Asking yourself these questions before you rush to sell will save you a lot of headaches in the future. 

The last thing you want to do is sell and then see the stock recover soon after. You’ll be left kicking yourself for selling. Stocks will usually recover, even if there are dips, so waiting it out is often your best bet. That is unless you have good reason to believe the stock won’t recover.

Another way to ride out the dips is to invest in index funds rather than individual stocks because you can spread your risk. It saves you putting all your eggs in one basket. 

Don’t miss out on some of the best content I’ve ever made. Grab your free PDF of my Ultimate Guide to Personal Finance now.

Bottom line: Don’t sell your stock if you can help it

Remember: Don’t just sell because your stock dropped. Look at it in context.

I used to teach a class on finance. One day, I went in front of the classroom and drew a picture of a declining stock on the chalkboard. It looked like this:

Then I turned to the class and asked them, “What should I do?”

Part of the class shouted, “Sell!” and another section said, “Hold it!” while a couple of people in the class muttered “Buy more.”

None of them were exactly right though. The truth is, you need more context.

If a stock like, say, Apple falls a bunch, you have to look at the surrounding context and ask questions like:

Is the general market falling?

Are its peers falling?

Has Apple performed this way before? What happened then?

Answering these questions provides a LOT more context to the situation and can both put your mind at ease and also help you make better judgments.

My suggestion to keep tabs on your stocks would be to just set up alerts through your broker or Google News to be notified of major industry changes.

BUT you need to keep in mind that 99.999999% of the advice you see out there is pure fear-mongering.

Two things to always keep in mind when it comes to stocks:

The professionals are almost always wrong. The stock picks of pundits are usually no better than pure chance, and even professional money managers barely ever beat the market benchmark. In other words, they don’t just underperform but they do it by A LOT. As William Bernstein, author of The Intelligent Asset Allocator, says: “There are two kinds of investors, be they large or small: Those who don’t know where the market is headed, and those who don’t know they don’t know.”

It’s mostly just noise. The fact is if you’re a long-term investor (and you should be), you don’t need to check your stocks every day. You don’t even need to check your stocks every WEEK. The daily changes in stocks are almost always noise — plain and simple. And very few (read: almost none) of your investments will be determined by the news of one day.

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When to Sell Stocks: The ONLY 3 Reasons To Sell (EVER) is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Surety Bond Brokers? Business https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/when-do-you-sell-a-stock/

[yutalatte]

Autumn With NCT 127

AN: Now that it’s September, it’s starting to turn fall where I live. And that means that things are dying, my favorite colors are back in style, baggy clothes are acceptable once again and I’m feeling sentimental. So I hope you like this. 

If you want me to add other members, just let me know.

Johnny

Johnny seems like such a road trip person to me. It doesn’t even matter where the destination is. He’d hold your hand and you’d sing songs at the top of your lungs. Maybe you’d drive through the mountains where the roads are winding and nerve-wracking, but the view at the end makes it so worth it. Or on the other hand, he might drive you to the downtown of whatever city you were in and you’d wander around the stores for awhile, gazing at the decorations lining the windows before returning to the car to find another destination. Ultimately, as long as the two of you were together, you’d go anywhere. Fall brought out the adventure in the two of you and when you weren’t focussed on the road or whatever attraction you’d just reached, you’d spend your time falling in love. On nights when it was raining and you were both too tired to go any further, you’d stop at a hotel and spend the night wrapped up in each other. Seeing the world with the love of your life was all either of you had ever wanted. 

Taeil

I feel like Taeil would love to go shopping at different stores with you. Not necessarily to buy anything, but just to be out in the fall. You would get coffees and look at all of the holiday decorations as they were put up little by little throughout the season. You’d go shop for Halloween costumes together and try on cute scarves and beanies. It would turn into your own personal fashion show that would result in unstoppable laughter. His hand would stay intertwined with yours, both inside his coat pocket to prevent them from getting too cold. He’d steal quick, affectionate glances at you, finding it unbearably cute that your nose and cheeks were turning pink because of the cold. If your face ever got too cold, he’d put his warm hands on your cheeks and give you sweet eskimo kisses. At the end of the day, you’d both be worn out from your antics and just fall asleep on the couch together.

Taeyong

Taeyong would love for the two of you to dress up together for Halloween. You’d pass out candy to the children in the neighborhood and Taeyong’s face would just light up whenever one of them came up to you two in the cutest costume gawking at how their favorite superhero (or whoever you decided to dress up as) was real. You would both finish off what was left of the candy (not much) while watching reruns of the Harry Potter movies. On the cold November nights after Halloween, you sat behind Taeyong, your head rested on his shoulder and your arms around his waist, while he wrote new music. It helped him to have you there for support and if he ever seemed to be getting too worked up over a certain line in the chorus or anything else, you’d be there to pull him away and just love on him until he was no longer stressed. Though at that point, he was too consumed with kissing you to worry about going back to writing.

Yuta

Listen, Yuta is such a soft boyfriend. He just wants to do all the cute couple things with you and he just wants to be cuddly and sweet and make you happy (I’m going to cry, I love Yuta so much, pls send help). Get ready to have a horror movie marathon because he just wants you to hide in his arms for seven hours straight (and also just completely forget about the movie and makeout with him). But of course, this is immediately followed by a Halloweentown movie marathon because they’re fall classics and also great movies to remove all the scary thoughts. Yuta would take you to a pumpkin patch so that the two of you could go on a hay ride, and sit by a bonfire, and pick out your own pumpkin to carve back at home. You two would probably end up adopting a puppy within a week of fall beginning because you’re both dangerously impulsive, but also because how cute would it be to take walks in the park with your cute doggo, wearing matching scarves and snuggling while watching your puppy play in the leaves ?? (I need a moment.)

Doyoung

In bed. All day. Doyoung loves being a homebody on most days, but now that the weather is becoming colder and flu season is starting up, he has more excuses reasons as to why he just can’t make it to that sporting event or why he can’t go out with some friends (“I just don’t want to get you all sick, I’m thinking of what’s best for you.” *taeyong rolling his eyes excessively and you giggling in the background*). So, every moment that he can spend at home, in pajamas, with you, he does. You’ve already had five movie marathons in one month and despite your constant pleading to go get groceries and make some healthy, homemade food, Doyoung refuses and just continues to order takeout. But it’s not just because he doesn’t feel like leaving the house. It’s because he genuinely wants to spend all of these moments with you. He wants to be as close to you as possible. His arms are always wrapped around you and of course, you reciprocate all of the affection. Neither of you has ever felt so content.

Jaehyun

I think Jaehyun would be up for whatever you wanted to do, as long as at the end of the day you were both safe and warm in each other’s arms. You’d lounge around in one of his sweatshirts (and a scarf that he learned how to knit for you at some point), while he cooked a warm meal for the both of you. You would spend a few nights at a local fair riding the ferris wheel and snuggling to fight off the cold. You would get hot chocolates that inevitably caused one of you to have whipped cream on your nose. There wouldn’t be much to say in these moments, your adoring gazes spoke for themselves. At one point you tried to tag along to a bonfire with a few other members, but their relentless teasing about how sickly in love the two of you were made that a one-time event. When the end of the day came, Jaehyun would softly sing you to sleep, only pausing to kiss your nose and forehead.

Winwin

There’s just so many adventures to be had. You know that one coffee shop that looks cute, but you’ve never been to because you have trust issues with coffee made outside of your own brewer or Starbucks? Sicheng would take you there. (And it’s actually some of the best coffee you’ve ever had.) He would take you to all of the fall festivals that are held each year and you’d have a whole wall of polaroids that you’d bought at each event. The both of you would be experts on the different ciders and foods that were set out at different booths. Whenever you’d get too cold, he would wrap you up in coats and scarves and just giggle contently at the bundled mess that you are. He would glow under the warm street lights and sometimes the two of you would just be caught up staring at each other and smiling. For the two of you, fall is a time to make special memories and to do all the things that you don’t do otherwise.

Mark 

Mark is such an energetic ball of fluff. There’s just so much he wants to do and see with you and his determinedness to do them knows no bounds. For the past two years, the two of you have participated (and won) in a pumpkin carving contest. Mark still holds the record for the most bobbed apples in under a minute. He most definitely has taken you to every music and arts festival within close distance and you now may need him to help you put some more shelves up because the amount of fair souvenirs he’s won for you have taken up all the space you have. Also, I would bet money that he’s tried to hand knit you a scarf just because he’s a cutie. (Someone pls give him best boyfriend award.) He would love to decorate for fall with you and to decorate sweets together. He would love seeing you get bundled up to go somewhere and would just giggle uncontrollably at how cute you were. Of course, he himself didn’t dress warm enough, so he’d end up zipped inside of your oversized coat to stay warm, the two of you looking like a two-headed amalgamation as you walked down the street, but at least you were both warm and happy. There would never be a dull moment with him and when both of you were beyond worn out, you’d just sit in front of the TV with bowls of Halloween candy watching old horror movies. Then Taeyong would walk in and have to hold back tears because his baby Mark is growing up so fast (lol someone stop me)

Haechan

While fall is a wonderful time for many reasons, it also includes the start of a new school year. So, you and this baby sunshine suffer through exams together, but don’t worry, there’s still so many happy times. Part of Haechan’s personality is just bringing joy to every situation so he would make sure that you made the most of the fall season in light of your studies. You would spend hours at coffee shops together laughing until your sides hurt. You’d go to haunted houses together and it would always end with the two of you clutching onto one another. He would never let you slip into a study slump, always making sure that you were eating enough and keeping you from getting too stressed (which usually involves giving up one of his sweaters for you). You’d return the favor and it would bring you closer together each day. You’d spend late nights talking on the phone about anything from why this history project was specifically designed to make you suffer to sweet confessions of adoration.

[un-enfant-immature]

What to expect from Apple’s WWDC 2020

Okay, so, first and foremost, this is going to be a weird one. Mostly because it’s 2020 and everything is just weird now and we have to deal with that until the next, weirder thing comes along. But while an online-only World Wide Developer Conference is certainly unprecedented for Apple, there’s some recent online precedent from the competition that should give us a preview of what’s to come.

Microsoft’s Build was something of a mixed bag as the bellwether for company-hosted online-only developer conferences (Google notably skipped I/O altogether). CEO Satya Nadella’s bits were pretty much what they should have been: straightforward developer news delivered in a straightforward manner. The event was awkwardly anchored by a pair of employees serving as a kind of throughline for the multi-day show. Goofy developer humor was sprinkled in. It was sometimes painful, but largely benign.

Apple makes WWDC online-only, amid COVID-19 concerns

Celebrity video cameos have become a kind of staple for Apple’s events in recent years, so it seems likely to expect that they’ll remain here. In fact, between the launch of Apple TV+ and a general impulse to break up the monotony of a pre-packaged event, the company may lean into that content even further.

Truth is, the thing is going to feel weird regardless. Between staffers and developers, these sorts of things are designed to be an annual bit of cheerleading. Things will feel strange without an audience. Go back and watch later episodes of MASH on Netflix. There’s a weird transition as the producers began tamping down the laugh track slowly overtime. It’s not about one method being better than the other, it’s just difficult for our brains to process these sorts of transitions.

Of course, the opening of Apple’s event is even more tailored to consumers than Microsoft’s. Before venturing into the weeds, the company uses Tim Cook’s keynote as one of a handful of key platforms for announcing new products. As a rule, the news generally revolves around updates to Apple’s various operating systems (this is still a developer conference, mind), but more often than not, hardware has a way of sneaking in there as well. Given a recent update to the 16-inch MacBook Pro and a new system for upgrading Mac Pro’s storage, there’s a decent chance that Apple is making room for bigger announcements at the event.

I’m a hardware guy, so I’m going to start there. The biggest rumor leading up to the event so far is the long-rumored shift to its own in-house ARM processors, making a shift away from a decade+ dependence on Intel chips. The move to a Mac ARM (not to be confused with Mudhoney frontman Mark Arm) would mark another key move toward silicon independence for the company, which has made great strides on that front over on the mobile side.

Beyond letting Apple own a bigger slice of the stack (and all that entails), the new chips have some decided benefits, including better power efficiency and thinner and lighter laptops. Notably, the actual arrival of such ARM-based Macs isn’t likely to happen until next year. Rather, the intent here is to outline the roadmap in order to give developers in attendance a chance to begin tailoring software for their imminent arrival.

Ahead of WWDC, Apple’s Developer app adds Mac support, new features, iMessage stickers

Other rumored hardware includes a redesigned version of Apple’s popular all-in-one desktop. An update is certainly long overdue on this front. The iMac’s design language has been largely unchanged since 2012 (which was a relatively minor change over earlier unibody designs). Aesthetically, the redesigned system is expected to be more in line with the iPad Pro up top, coupled with much thinner bezels (the desktop is one of the last vestiges of Apple’s bezel-friendly past). The T2 chip is said to finally be making its way into the line, as well.

Other feasible hardware rumors include the arrival of Apple’s Tile-style hardware tracker, AirTags. That one’s reportedly been in the works for a while, though things have been heating up lately, courtesy of leaks and Tile’s complaints to the EU about alleged anticompetitive action from Apple. Another rumor that’s been bubbling up quite a bit: AirPods Studio. Apple will reportedly launch over-ear competitors to its own successful Beats brand. High-end noise cancellation premium sound is on the docket, along with modular, magnetic components. Also potentially on the list are refreshes to a couple of iPads, as well as a long-awaited update to the HomePod, or possibly the addition of a smaller, cheaper version of the smart speaker.

Apple reveals its virtual WWDC lineup, including its special keynote planned for June 22

As for those ever-important operating systems, it’s a no-brainer that we’ll get a good look at iOS 14/iPadOS 14. Key updates include a new automatically sortable home screen, including a list view that makes it possible to sort alphabetically, by unread notifications and a number other different methods. Other rumors for the operating system include the adoption of iPad-style multitasking. Obviously the smaller screen size makes execution trickier than it would on a tablet, but a similar feature has already been demonstrated on Android devices. Also rumored to be on the docket are new augmented reality and fitness apps.

In addition, macOS is shaping up to be a relatively light update to 10.16 — at least if the rumors are correct. Top of the list here are more ported iOS apps, courtesy of the catalyst program, along with developer customizable Siri (which would also be an iOS update, mind). Car Key, meanwhile, could be coming to both watchOS in addition to iOS, bringing with it the ability to unlock a car door via Apple hardware. A kid-friendly mode and improved sleep tracking are also rumored to be in the works.

The keynote kicks off June 22 at 10AM ET/1PM PT. Online events will follow for the rest of the week. It’s going to be different than any years prior — and there’s a decent chance Apple will never embrace it exactly the same way again. Enjoy the weirdness.