#i just didn't expect them to drop it while the original anime is still airing and not even close to being done

[beif0ngs]

Netflix producers coming up with the title of the anime remake of One Piece like—

[yourlocalstranger123]

I HAD THIS DREAM WHERE I WAS A GOD WITH A VEIL WHICH COVERED MY FACE AND LONG SLEEVES AND IT'S LIKE A ROBE? AND OMG, IM NOT EVEN SURE IT WAS ME BECAUSE THE PERSON I WAS 1ST PERSON VIEWING THEN 3RD WAS HOT AS HECK.....BUT ANYWAYS, IMA WRITE ABOUT MY DREAM.

Gn reader/no specific pronouns used. (You/they/unknown person) (lol)

(I would be happy if you reposted my dream or like <3)

welcome, outlander God(S) ♥︎

CREDITS: [I was in a rush and my friend found it on Google for me, so I am not sure if it's correct so here's the title] Art, manga, boy anime #730263 on animesher.com [or you can just type what my friend searched "chained up hands manga"]

Traveler steps into a abandoned domain. They moved the tree branches that over-grown into the domain and searched around the area.

"Nothing seems to be here Paimon. I think we were just hearing things."

"But Paimon was sure she heard something!"

The traveler tries to reassure Paimon that they were just hearing things until the traveler leaned on the wall and pushed a hidden button. They both paused as they heard some stone moving.

Traveler carefully stepped into the new founded room...nothing...happened? They went in the room still cautious. It was pitch black so the traveler has to spread the arms out and just try to imagine what the rooms looks like and so they don't bump their head on something.

Suddenly, the Paimon screamed, the traveler quickly turned around and headed towards Paimon's scream. The traveler stood there shocked and horrified. They saw a eyeball staring at them. Black liquid drips from the opened eyeball as it stared at the 2 trespassers. Suddenly, the liquid that seems to come out non-stop became read then gold.

The light was suddenly on.

"WAS THAT EYEBALL THE LIGHTSWITCH?!"

Paimon was grossed out as the traveler tried to not laugh at her reaction. A chill went down on their spine, then panic as both of them couldn't move. Their heart almost dropped into their stomach as they heard a voice.

"Oh? I didn't expect guests to be here. My, my."

The unknown person chuckled. They got closer to them as the traveler shivered from the cold hands that touched their face.

"Quite a beauty. Such pretty golden hair."

The unknown person was finally revealed. Well...not really since seems like a veil is covering most of their head. It was quite a length. While the clothes were fully covering their body.

Both of them were stunned when they heard multiple voices that sounded exactly the same if some didn't sound like their vocals was damaged or something.

"Look! There's a flying kid!"

"You mean a fairy?"

"No. It must be a realistic, human machine"

"Emergency food?"

Paimon stomped her feet in the air, pouting from the comments.

"Don't be mean. I'm sure she's just a living person" [The original you]

Paimon almost broke into tears. You're the first person who hasn't called her emergency food or some fairy at least once.

Their voices was terrifying in a way. Some was fine, but one of them had some kind of glitch in their voice or maybe gurgle noises as if their Drowning.

"Ah. Don't mind them. I'm the original."

'Original?' The traveler thought before stumbling into your arms when they were finally released from the paralyzed state they both were in.

"So....their your clones?"

The unknown person (you) laughed. Clutching their stomach as they fell on to their knees and holding on to the wall for support.

"Pfft- haha! That's quite funny"

Gosh. Perhaps would you die from laughter with Cyno's jokes because of your horrible humor? They thought.

"Well....they aren't exactly clones. They are just....versions of myself? I have many, perhaps infinity of them. But there somewhere else. These are just "me's" who will go soon. So just ingore them."

The traveler was stunned, before they could say anything, they witnessed the "you's" turning into statue, liquid or anything then disappearing. Although, they didn't question further since you looked tired from the questions. They looked over to the chains on your legs and wrist. About to ask this one last question but you soon changed the subject.

"Oh. Are you...ah, yes! Lumine/Aether?"

The traveler paused. Sweat dripping from their forehead as they looked at you in fear. They haven't told anyone their name. How did you know?

"No need to fear me....I wouldn't dare to hurt such a beauty. You're quite too cute to do that"

The person chuckled, seeing the traveler face flushed a slight bright red. The traveler finally opened their mouth to say something after 5 minutes of awkward silence.

"Do you know....my brother/sister?"

You paused. Seemingly hesitating.

"And....what if I say I do?"

The traveler looks at you and went straight forward.

"Please! Help me find my sister/brother!"

The traveler begged.

"Well....sorry to disappoint you, I don't know their location. But I could help you on your travels."

You hold their chin while smiling. The traveler heart suddenly quicken and pounded into their chest. You and the traveler noticed that Paimon was passed out on the floor, cold. You gladly offered them to help lead the way to the exit while carrying Paimon.

*later*

"Teyvat....looks so different......how long did I sleep?? God damn, I slept better than sleeping beauty for real!"

The traveler looked at you cunfused before you coughed awkwardly and asked them where do you go with them. Suddenly, the 4 archon appeared.

"[Name]...is that.....really you?"

Zhongli asked. Hands trembling as he reached out to you.

"Yes Morax- wait. Rex Lapis? No, God Of Contracts?"

"Zhongli. It's Zhongli"

He awnsered. Ei interrupted,

"[Name]..! You look......exactly the same"

You nodded. You almost fell as Venti jumped on your back.

"Barbatos?"

"I'm going by Venti!"

"Venti, the famous drunken bard?"

You chuckled, Laughing at Venti's reaction. He pouted and hit you in the shoulder even though it felt like nothing.

You looked down, seeing a child.

"Oh? And who are you?"

Nahida looked up at you and fidgeted her fingers.

"I'm Nahida....I heard a lot about you from irminsul!"

She said excitedly. The traveler just stood there in the background, with Paimon in their hands. Although...you felt the presence of someone but quickly ingores it as you listen to everyone's words. Perhaps Nahida should introduce you to Wanderer

You should be careful with the Fatui and Tsaritsa

—to be continued—

[neospokenworld]

SPRING ANIME 2024 FINAL THOUGHTS

So just like I did months ago with my first impressions post, here are my final thoughts on every anime I started watching that was ongoing this season. I'm gonna list them as they end to be more organized and not have it jump around, so before we start, here's a quick section about the anime I dropped:

Astro Note: I forgot it existed past the first episode not gonna lie lol, I'll probably resume it in the future since it was a fun first episode but other than that nothing else to say

High Speed Etoilé: I wanted to like this so badly, the story could've been interesting but from what I saw it never hooked me at all, plus the 3d was very rigid so overall it wasn't as good to continue

Spice & Wolf: This is one I'll surely resume in the future, I was liking what I was seeing but one day I just lost track of it and never returned. What I saw left me with a very good taste so this is one that I have to resume someday

Okay, now we can begin:

DUNGEON MESHI

Started watching this one when it was at episode 18 and caught up to it really quickly. I honestly wasn't expecting to like it for some reason but as soon as I started it I knew it was gonna be a fun ride altogether. Nice characters, a good story, excellent animation (I mean it's Trigger but this is like my 2nd anime from them) and food that I would 100% eat if it was real lol. I'm glad it's getting a 2nd season because I really wanna see how it continues

BARTENDER: KAMI NO GLASS

This was beautiful, what else can I say? I mean I knew that this anime would be different after watching the first episode, even joking to myself while watching it ''This is premium anime'' lol. Everything from start to finish had this soothing vibe to it that I absolutely enjoyed and not gonna lie I think from episode 6 onward it knew how to push the right buttons on me to make me more and more emotional, by the time I finished the final episode I was on tears of happiness hearing the credits. I don't know how the original was but I think this is a gem of an anime that surely deserves to be talked about more

YORU NO KURAGE WA OYOGENAI

It never stopped delivering peak, back when the first episode aired I knew it would be something special, and while it felt just a little aimless past the episode of their first concert, I think in the end it wrapped up the main points kinda nicely. This is a show that got me feeling emotional on a near weekly basis and always knew how to share banger episodes. Even if it wasn't yuri in the end it was still a beauty of an anime in my opinion, it only needs to polish a few small things here and there to be basically a masterpiece imo and hopefully the manga that is coming along with it can do it

SHUUMATSU TRAIN DOKO E IKU?

This was such a fun ride overall, I gotta admit back on the first episodes I had a feeling this would be something that would break me when they were close to Ikebukuro, but even if in the end it didn't it was still a really good ride from beginning to end. One thing I liked was how the conversations between the girls were a bit faster than in most anime out there, I don't know but that made them feel more natural to me, it was cool to see all of them interact with the weirdness of the world and ngl this finale actually moved me a little lol. Not the best but still a pretty good one all in all

PS: Both the Opening and Ending here are severely underrated, Ga-Ton Go-Ton is on my top 3 for OPs this season and Eureka is easily my favorite ED for the season, both of them are just so good both visually and musically it's surprising to say the least

Part 2 will come when the other 4 end, so probably early next week

[the-sill-of-all-sills]

8 Shows to know you

Tagged by: @fortune-maiden thanks!

Tagging: @marsdiogenes @veraverorum @dangermousie @endrega23

Ah this is hard but I will try

1. Avatar the last Airbender.

I remember when nickelodeon would air the complete series on a weekend every now and again and that was how I originally watched it. Then it was on Netflix and I rewatched it again. And again and again. This is THE show to me.

2. Monk - in which a germophobe is a detective

This show aired the same year I was born so I'm kinda going to be biased. Rewatching some of the episodes in 2023 I didn't expect to find out that my brand of humor apparently originates from an early 2000s show but it certainly appears so!

3. Shadow Hunters

Did I drop this show after catching up with the books and being so frustrated at how they adapted things? Yes. Do I even care about the books anymore? Not really. BUT this show (or rather Malec) is what originally got me into shipping so I think I still need to mention it.

4. Stranger - A kdrama about a man without emotions suffering with chronic pain having to solve a murder and making friends along the way

Living my life I never saw a character that made me go "oh I feel represented by them! I can relate to them!" That was until the Male Lead of Stranger came along. Instead of the show being about his disability it's about a murder that needs to be solved. It's about him solving this murder and navigating through it with his disability. It's about friendship. This show probably has one of my favorite female leads. And even if I'm not much into crime dramas anymore this show is so so dear to me.

5. The disastrous life of Saiki K - in which the anime protagonist has all the powers in the world that he doesn't want. He just wants a peaceful afternoon is that so much to ask!

Not much to say about this show except this is also one that nailed my brand of humor.

6. Tom and Jerry

A special shout-out to it because as a child I was obsessed with it.

7. Mr. Queen - In which a womanizing star cook from modern times transmigrates and now he is the queen of joseon. Political court intrigue on the menu as well.

Everything about this show was almost tailer made for me. The humor that never fades even into the late episodes. The characters and their complexity. The romance between two people who started as enemies. The drama, the intrigue! Perfect! Amazing! Wonderf- WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS IS THE ENDING

Mr Queen managed to give me the worst ending I have possibly ever seen and still managed to become my favorite kdrama. Because even if the last episode is a crime everything before that really is just too well done.

8. Love between fairy and devil - in which the most powerful man is the universe is forced to take care of a plant

My feelings with this show and Mr queen are pretty similar except that with Lbfad while maybe not the best paced at the end the ending didn't suck. The couple just has so much love and respect for each other. And the emotions ahhh. So many emotional moments!

[buff-muffin]

I originally started watching One Piece years ago, I had seen stuff online talking about devil fruits and world building and had been really sinking my teeth into anime at the time. I even asked my friend about it, if it was any good. And the story I got every single time was. "One piece is the greatest story of all time! it's so deep talking about politics and social issues and tackles real problems with amazing world building and the coolest characters ever!!!!" And I'll admit I got curious, so I watched. but the thing is? the East Blue Saga is NOT that. And the second I saw a dumbass burst out of a barrel I was annoyed. I went in expecting a Death Note, a Fullmetal Alchemist or something even more nitty gritty and was so disappointed I felt almost mocked. When I expressed to my friend that I didn't like it, he insisted that I at least get to Arlong Park before dropping. But the thing is, when you don't like a show, you tend to not listen. I didn't like Nami, finding her an asshole for never once thanking Luffy and so when Arlong Park rolled around I didn't listen and didn't care. Eventually I got to Logue Town and finally dropped the show at exactly episode 72 when Zoro threw that damn sword in the air. And look I'm up to date. I get it now. BUT THAT SCENE IS NOT COOL. ITS JUST STUPID. I felt so insulted and lied to that I just gave up. I still listened to content about the show not caring for spoilers and really it felt like we had watched two different shows. I heard all about gear five and Wano and even word about egghead but i had accepted one piece just wasn't a show for me. until one Tiktok:

That video was the FIRST thing to ever showed me, hey, look at these silly fucks. And I laughed. Eventually I kept getting more and more. Those videos delighted me so much that two years later I decided to give one piece another chance going from where i paused at Logue Town years ago. but this time i was just there to see a silly guy. And the funny thing is, when i was just there to have a good time? i loved it SO MUCH MORE. From the "sorry guys, but I'm dead now." to the lightning strike of the platform. I decided I would stick with it a little longer. I watched them help the old man dragon, declaring their dreams, beat up and rescue Laboon, Luffy fight Zoro at whiskey peaks and the damn Mr 3 fight at Little Garden. I was laughing the whole time. I was enjoying myself because I decided i didn't care about all that important stuff, i was just here for a good time.

Eventually i was really won over in Drum Island watching how far Luffy would go for his friends carrying Nami and Sanji up a vertical icy climb in a snow storm with bare hands and feel. I was moved and officially stuck with the show. And yes I really grew to like Nami too as the only sensible one and realising she was a HELL of a lot nicer then i realised. I stuck with the show since, hell the hyperfixation grew so bad i was watching arcs in the span of a week.

And like anyone with a hyperfixation so bad its basically debilitating, I tried to get others to watch it with me. Eventually a friend started watching and while I was over they pulled it up to watch together. They had been at the end of the battle in Arlong Park and sitting back and LISTENING. and LAUGHING, I realised just how much I missed. I was laughing with them as we watched Luffy scamper about the battlefield. and the loss of breath I felt watching Luffy destroy the building Nami had been kept in. It was almost overwhelming and i sat there realising that this show and story had been made for me since the beginning. I would have fallen in love with it all those years ago or even earlier if ANYONE had simply told me. The show is silly. It's funny. It's not suppose to be serious all the time. It's a comedy. but so many fans seem to have this stick up their ass about the idea that their super deep meaningful show cant be funny? like laughter and joy are somehow the opposite of intelligence. and this becomes even more ironic with gear 5 and the fact that the laughter and joy so many seemed insistent on ignoring was a KEY PART of the story. I love one piece, its inspired me as a story teller and while i will always be bitter it took me so long to find it I wont fault anyone particular but when i recommend it to anyone my first words is that its silly. because deep down that's what one piece will always be. a silly show. and anyone who tries to hide that side of the story will never truly understand it.

mannnnn reading one piece from the beginning got me laughing and smiling like a kid watching early morning cartoons. Anyone who tries to hide the fact OP is a silly story is an enemy in my books cause the joy in feeling is a core part of the story it's important. its' a theme that never goes away and is never once pointless. It was written like this for a reason and if you try and deny it. you deny what one piece IS

[voidcat]

— Fall Is The Corpse Of Summer

Chapters 1 – 6 (ao3)

↳ the beginning of the end (the opening act)

characters: papa emeritus iii/reader (main pairing), original characters, sister imperator, nameless ghouls (aether, air, et cetera)

a/n: cross posting this fic here so here’s a general warning for the fic: suggestive content, mentioned medical malpractice, mentions of alcohol/smoking/drugs and anesthesia, loss of an animal et cetera. This one’s more of an introduction chapter so it is more focused on the world (church) building and characters too. Gender neutral pronouns are used for reader, in one section mc is called "sister" though.

wc: 14k

i.

In a series of events unimportant and hollow, you find yourself where you are today.

It’s around winter, the cold air biting into your skin that you stand before a grand door, the woman looks unimpressed from how she sizes you up and down with a still glance. Unimpressed at a random stranger’s sudden claim that they wish to join them, their ranks.

The real thing , you consider adding as a later thought, not the concert crowd or whatever it is– despite the irony of that being how you came to hear of them from people you were surrounded with.

It probably came off as pompous to say when you think back on it, but you’d like to have hope that announcing you have experience in the medical field had an effect on where you are today.

And it is a section, separated from the rest of the organization. Metal surfaces of equipment shine under the cold lights of the room, everyone including you clad in long black robes and masks resembling a plague doctor’s.

Your arrival and news of joining their ranks do not attract the attention you expected. Then again, you didn't expect much to begin with.

Maybe distaste for someone joining them so easily.

Instead, the medical wing seems delighted for fresh blood. You certainly don't share the sentiment when they inform you they've got a master/apprentice system happening there too.

The first conversations are always about the outside world.

“Good ol’ sexism still exists, as well as bias against marginalized groups and lack of respect for autonomy.”

That should summarize things, you think, not expecting them to ask more, or for you to spend the next several hours complaining and telling precious experiences as stories.

“Especially because we work under a satanist organization, autonomy is highly valued here too.” One of them says to you.

That’s good to hear, at least. With how often you’ve witnessed absolute lack of regard for patients and staff, how people were made to work to death despite only starting their internship, how some doctors had the audacity to make decisions on behalf of their patients ‘ just in case you change your mind in the future’...

All bullshit, all excuses, so much headache and for what?.. For the cost of your mental wellbeing?

Hah, as if you had that one left sound…

The people change the topic and ask about different aspects, focusing on how far the modern side of things has come– drugs, pharmacy in general, research on diseases and whatnot.

Some they are impressed with but mostly there is disappointment, at how slow they find the pace of things.

“Well, the ethical board and requirements for such things only get tighter after a while.” you say with a shrug, pretty sure you heard one of them mumble ‘that’s what i had told them when i first arrived.’

Knowing there is someone who sounds to be young– or closer to your age than the rest of them feels somewhat better.

“Well, that won’t be a problem here, if you ever grow curious.” you decide to ignore the remark, and what could it possibly mean.

Maybe it was a good thing you dropped your previous work experience to the woman like that, because as they claim, they are short on staff.

You don’t know just how many members are there to this… organization but seeing as to how they do have access to the outside world, you think 6 people isn’t that small.

It takes you a while to stop referring to them as ‘the people’ as you wear the same mask as they do now– have started doing since your conversation with the woman, whom you’ve later learnt to be called Sister Imperator.

Not a core element of them like autonomy is to satanism, but your coworkers value anonymity and privacy, especially during their work hours. And so you’ve found yourself meeting them, and them meeting you wearing their signature piece of clothing.

Maybe it’s an initial sizing up stage of recruiting, to test and see how the future candidates react to wearing a mask even for a mere interview.

So a new routine begins, the page in your book flips open to a new chapter.

Every day you wake up, put on layers of black and the mask with a long beak– maybe add in a flower or few, a sprinkle of spices and herbs you like for historical accuracy, top it off with the hat and the odd pendant and get through with your days.

Even if those are just errands, with your heels echoing in the stone hallways all day.

No matter the location and beliefs, it seems there is no escaping the master-apprentice relationship.

The head doctor, you assume to be, tilts his head with a chuckle as if seeing your frown through the mask.

“That is medicine for you, no matter the age.” she says and shoos you away lightly, off you go now.

You learn quickly why the medical branch was so enthusiastic to get fresh blood among their ranks: they absolutely despise having to go up, out, leaving the quarters or even interacting with anyone outside their branch, anyone nosy or pretty much anyone who is not Sister Imperator herself.

Even then, you are sure they aren’t that fond of her either– at least she doesn’t ask stupid questions that require minimum brain power.

Something they love, though? Experimenting, performing– anything they can use their hands for, test things out and jot down the results, discuss and work further to see what they’ll reach next. All those questions regarding the latest discoveries within your field start to make more sense now.

Autonomy is highly important for satanists, and by extension, for the medical wing, but you can conduct experiments here and there, they say, oh and don’t fall for the first word to leave the ghouls’ lips, they are rather feisty, like to play cat and mouse, just, both parties being the cats and all– with each word spoken, the doctor makes less and less sense. You cannot recall the last time your face scrunched up gradually with each word.

You can, actually, but you’d rather not.

The doctor does make a little more sense when he states ‘their demonic nature ’ to finalize his words.

So the supernatural exists and demons are real, living under the same roof as you do… good to know, now you know to add a dagger next to your scalpel on your outfit.

Still, you figure this is better than nothing.

Sure the empty feeling still resides and you do not like to run errands, nor start over with the whole menial and tedious work of having to climb the ladder all over again but all in all the environment is more tolerable.

For starters, there is more freedom as stupid as it sounds, considering the more …religious part of this organization might be cult like and all.

The other doctors are nice to be around. Anonymity they had promised and anonymity they provide.

Nobody cares who is who, it is difficult to distinguish the people from one another– save for the head doctor, the ace of spades shining black and proud on his chest.

Unlike your previous doctors you’ve worked under and with, they don’t grunt when you ask to do some things yourself, more than happy to make way, hand over the needle to you, guide you when they see fit. 

They seem to genuinely enjoy what they do.

And the errands aren’t so bad either if you are honest. Just picking up books from and to the library, the ancient books even from their looks making the distance worth it.

Observing the structure of the entire place and trying out a different path each time you’re outside the wing, you forget the outside world– key word being almost.

During the days you forget about your cat or the rude behaviors you had to endure back then.

Then the nights come, of course, and by the time you are in bed, your hands look for her and you find yourself lying in your spot like the dead, cold, eyes fixed on the stone ceiling until your body shuts down on its own and you only know you have fallen asleep because of how different the room looks in the mornings.

The colors of the rising sun reflect and disperse on stone delicately.

Not even a week in you hear the main doors open and close, the head doctor– Void , sigh loudly and a sound of grabbing paper fills the air.

When you look up all you see is a figure in black with a silvery mask, with what you make out to be horns on it and all.

Is this one of what they called to be ‘ghouls’ ?

Void lets out another sigh, a frustrated one and crumbles the paper. Feet echoing on the floor, the ghoul leaves with a slam of the doors– none of the doctors even batting an eye.

“Newbie, you can leave that desk now, come here.” 

Whatever the news is, it’s either about you– which you deem unlikely as you are rather new here, or it is another task you’ll be given.

From the sighs you’ve heard already, a task you coworkers have witnessed enough to dislike and not care about.

“Ever got a hangover?” Void asks as you stand before her and making a sound you cannot make out when you shake your head.

“Alright, let me paraphrase this: ever prepared something to treat a hangover?” curling your lip, you move your head horizontally, not exactly a shake but not a nod either.

“Which one is it this time?” one of the doctors call out to Void, “bet it’s the youngest.” one in your line of vision mutters without even raising their head from their work.

Paying them no mind, Void waves her hand at the bookcase she uses for the latest books she has you brought. “Grab the green spine with vines from there and start preparing a hangover remedy.”

You begin walking towards the case as she continues: “It appears, his excellency the third requires our assistance and skillset.” in a monotonous tone.

You can hear a groan and a ‘pay up ’ as you pull the book with a finger, the same voices from a moment ago.

Void says a ghoul can help with the directions, though with a little persuasion, if you forget and tells you which floor to go and exactly which room to walk into.

The little bowl in hand, you make way, feeling gazes on you as you draw near your target location– probably the ghouls.

A part of you wonders why they aren’t fond of your department.

One, firm knock on the door and you let yourself in, eyes scanning the room for a sliver of movement, only to locate on the floor later.

When you heard the current Papa is also the face and vocals of the band the organization uses as an extra way to spread the word, you did expect a little leniency and laxity– but not a man lying on the floor in a position that makes even your spine cry out, a hand blindly patting the floor to find a bottle you, guess. The awful skeleton face paint, which now seems to be a mess from over drinking, sweating and most likely rubbing his face all over the floor– you do not even want to start with that.

With a few strides, you tower over him and wait, watch as he nibbles on the empty bottle, realizing a little later than the average that it is empty.

Then, he creaks open his eyes and blinks a few times, noticing a shadow that shouldn’t be here and mismatched eyes finally look up.

You only hold out the cup to him.

Placing one knee on the floor to prompt himself up, he gets up and wobbles a little, placing a foot with a stomp, he manages to balance himself and takes the cup.

You stay there and watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing with each sip. A pause, moving his lips as if trying to taste something, and he begins drinking again.

You snap out of it a few seconds too late. 

“You new here?” his voice slurs as he asks and you are left wondering what the hell should you say, they absolutely did not warn me for that, what should i do–

“What makes you think that?” you ask back, keeping your voice steady and bored, hands clasped in front of you.

“Everyone’s remedy got a signature. And this,” he raises the cup to his eye level, “tastes different.”

“The same recipe is used for this particular substance. I am afraid I don’t know what it is you’re talking about– or what difference in taste you are referring to.” Should you have used a title of respect? Void did use one in a mocking manner. You should definitely ask this as well once you’re back, and he did seem in bad shape, you doubt he would remember once he sobers up.

“No need for professionalism, piccolo corvo,” he sways to his right, “a yes or no will work just fine.”

You doubt your answer would matter to him, still, you nod your head slightly, doubting he’d catch that in his drunken state and wait as he throws his head back, drinking the cup to the brim.

Fingers holding the edges from above, he holds it between the two of you, a grin plastered on his face.

Without a word, you take the cup and leave as you came.

Running errands all day long seems more appealing all of a sudden.

When you enter the main area of the wing, all heads– beaks, are turned to you.

“So, what do you think?” one of them asks, you can hear the grin in their voice.

Walking towards one of the sinks, you place the now empty cup down, and lean against the counter, hands supporting you from the back.

“Pathetic.”

Void barks into laughter.

You have a bad feeling this won’t be the last time you’ll use this word for the same man, or anyone else you might be summoned for assistance.

“That’s the Emeritus boys for you,” Void says once her laughter dies down. “Gotta hand it over to the man,” she places a hand on her hip, “he knows how to prepare you for what is to come from the very start.”

What a …lovely first impression indeed.

“ So !” she claps her hands swiftly, “welcome to our ranks, officially .” she emphasizes on the last word, “any questions?”

“A few, actually…” you begin, contemplating in what order to ask, feeling Void’s curious gaze on you whereas the others already lost interest, returning to their initial positions.

“Should I use any titles of respect when addressing the, uh, papas ?” god, even saying that word out loud feels weird.

 You can sense the sudden drop in Void’s body, the practically beaming posture gone. “Don’t.” she says. “As a means to maintain our anonymity, we do not make conversation with anyone outside our ranks.”

“Not even–” “when discussing with the clergy, yes, but that’s something I do; nobody here is obligated to make conversation with anyone else, so be at ease.”

Mouth pulled into a thin line at the sudden interruption, you listen. Wouldn't lack of communication make things more difficult? As if on cue, Void continues:

“You can use sign language or mouth whatever you’ll say, the ghouls have a tendency to pick those up. But we only resort to verbal communication before operations and such.” nodding as you listen, you’re content with that. You really don’t want to try and see for yourself just how the youngest son would act if you did ever reply back.

“We even considered adjustable heels for each member of our wing, removing any height difference but those footwear are not the most optimal in our line of work. So it’s a choice left up to the wearer.” She adds as a second thought.

The silence resides over the grand room and you can feel Void’s gaze on you. 

“Since this place is like,” you halt, “the opposite of abrahamic religions from what i’ve gathered…” your voice falters and you can sense Void leaning in slightly with each word you utter. “Is there a nearby cemetery appointed to us like those?”

She hums thoughtfully at your question, her index tapping her chin as she thinks.

“I am not quite so sure, you’ll have to ask Sister Imperator about that.” she receives another nod from you. “Anything else?”

The nickname he used for you comes to mind.  “Raven?” 

“Everyone has a nickname for us: ravens, ace,” Void points at herself then gestures the rest of the room, “and spades, and my favorite–” she pauses to create suspense: “a murder, of crows.” you can feel her grin despite the pitchblack mask hiding her face.

“And the italian ?”

At this, you can feel Void rolling her eyes and groan. “Nobody knows for sure. Probably thinks people cannot understand him. The siblings of sin find it charming. We leave the youngest… be.”

That much, you guessed yourself. Had the guy no clue you and possibly everyone else in the medical field can understand latin– and a little italian to some extent? Maybe he just wants to feel special.

“That all?” Void’s voice snaps you back and you find yourself beak to beak with her, startled for a second. 

You do wonder about the gazes you’ve felt and her switch in tone whenever the ghouls are mentioned, yet your gut says not to poke around regarding this for the time being.

“One more actually, yes…” your voice trails off as Void nods her head, signaling you to go on.

“So, I really don’t know about the whole god and satan thing going on, no offense, ” you quickly add in ‘it’s fine,’ Void says with a brush of her hand.

“You did mention a demonic nature, so the supernatural exists, to some extent?..” 

Taking in a breath, you continue, “So what about practices of such… arts?” you ask.

“I’ll need you to elaborate on that.” she says, her voice not wavering. 

“Magic? I suppose?” you offer, shoulders scrunched up like an unsure kid picked for a pop quiz. “Black magic, witchcraft… things like that I guess. Maybe necromancy–”

Now that piques Void’s interest.

“Those exists in theory, yes. Records of these however, are very difficult to attain. One book ever written and only ever passed down from generation to generation, or stolen, you see?” she talks with ease. “In fact, our beloved clergy runs a separate operation to locate such delicate material. There are books in the library’s restricted section and as a part of the medical wing, we all have access to it. How much of their contents would appease you, though, I do not know.” 

Superficial at best, vague at worst, huh? It may still be worth a shot, even witchcraft on itself sounds interesting.

“Lost someone you loved?” she asks with a glint in her voice.

“More like didn’t get to mourn.” you answer and hop off, somewhat grateful she doesn’t pry any further.

ii.

The errands required of you lessen in time but never quite ends. Still, you get to work with your hands back in the main area and that’s more sufficient.

Going to the library is what they require the most of you anyway.

Another late morning, you walk down the same hall with feet clattering against the stone, click click, same pace as always, not too fast or slow.

A mess of black, embroidered gold and lines of siky purple catch your eye.

Quite the high-flown robes, you think to yourself, your pace never disrupted as you walk past the figure.

“Sister (name)!” the man calls out to you from behind, the voice tickling your brain, and the misuse of title making you almost freeze in place.

Emphasis on almost, you walk away as if not even having heard him in the first place.

It sinks in as you push open the library doors with the voice and exaggerated robe with a very specific design that yes that is indeed the same man who couldn’t even get up for a solid five minutes, the supposed anti-pope or whatever.

You really need to figure out the official titles used around when you have the time… 

Much to your dismay, that occurrence proves to not to be an one time thing.

And every single time, the man calls you with the wrong title, each time he is a little closer to you than last time. 

All you can hope is he won’t attempt to grab your arm or something similar, you’d rather not get fired for committing a violent action against a high ranked member as self defense.

With the first ghoul brought into the chambers, your intuition is correct that there is heavy tension between them and your wing.

The ghoul isn’t even there for a trivial matter but the others– the ghouls or your coworkers, you're unsure– insist he stays in case of poisoning.

From what the ghoul tells, it sounds to you as something easily solved with a medicine but one Void insists on further examinations.

And you know for a fact that there is no equipment for any sort of medical imaging, maybe save for USG.

‘We cannot know for sure how the drug will react within your system, ah stop with the whole act, just one slash here, a look there and we’ll stitch you up in no time!’

Luckily the ghoul manages to leave in one piece and without even a scalpel touching their skin.

Maybe heavy tension is an underestimation. You’re sure they would be at each other’s throats if the opportunity rose.

The church has a cemetery of its own, as well as a mausoleum.

Not very close and from the looks of it, hasn't been visited nor tended to in a while.

Still, you find yourself walking the extra meters, out of sight, hidden behind the trees and sit by the recently placed stone mark.

Not your best work by far, but fairly alright despite stone or carving never being your specialities.

It is soothing to walk among the abandoned graves, dead stones not caring for your steps. To sit by and not think about anything in particular.

The cemetery is a serene place.

Something you found people disagreed with for so long. How your mother would sigh after the entire family returns from a visit, the place too morbid, so depressing, draining… hit the shower and she would reemerge half an hour later as if she never stepped foot into the cemetery herself.

You think it is welcoming, as much as life is. 

Naturally so, as death is just a part of it all in the grand scheme of things, the final gear to turn the entire mechanism, gets it running and in loop, connecting from start to finish.

This is a different invitation. Of a silence promised, of loyalty they cannot offer anyone else, a warmth they offer despite not possessing it themselves.

The dead sit by your side and listen to you for hours, lie with you and watch the tall trees fluttering their leaves, how the sunlight flickers inbetween. They are the most trusted confidants, they understand, they have lived through it all, they are with you until the very end.

The stone is as cold as her body was.

Pulling back, you remove your cheek from the stone and look down at the ground.

Maybe you should plant some grass, the kind she liked.

The grass tickles your skin but not quite like her whiskers did.

The blooming violets you passed as you walked are soft but not as gentle as her fur ever was.

The chime of the bell reaches all the way over to you from afar. It is time.

Getting up, you dust the skirt of your robe, loop your arm through the fastened belts of your mask and your hat in one hand, begin your walk back.

When a nameless ghoul shows up at the door, a ghoul with no visible pain or injuries, everyone in the wing stops what they’re doing.

Placing your arm on the page you were reading and closing the cover halfway, you observe as the scene unfolds before you.

You can somewhat make out a symbol on the ghoul’s outfit but the distance is too great to tell it apart.

Unlike the standard ones, this one doesn't cower with fear or anxiety at the empty glass eyes the death bringers turn at him.

They wait, for a word, for him to crumble under their gaze, the speculations and tales the newer ghouls tell one another of the unfortunate fates their kind have met at their hands– the ghoul doesn’t even so much as bulge.

Growing tired of each minute wasted away, Void takes one loud step and walks in her usual pace all the way to the ghoul.

Masked faces close, whispering to one another, Void then pulls back, snaps a finger in your direction and beckons you to come with her index.

“Turns out one of our dear nameless ghouls suffered from a minor wrist injury. I need you to go upstairs and observe the current situation, and interfere if necessary.”

You eye the ghoul to your left. Ghouls aren’t fond of you or your department, so why does one show up on behalf of another?

With a nod you walk to one of the cabinets you’ve spotted a splint before. Better to be prepared than nothing.

The ghoul walks ahead when they notice you nearing them and so you follow them all the way to the sound of increasing music.

The walk to what you assume to be their rehearsal room is all fine, enjoyable even, even from the distance the music sounds alright.

Then that wretched voice rises and you hate to fight the urge to stop your feet from turning away.

Great, just the person you needed, in a room full of people who dislike you for your position… surely nothing could go wrong.

The ghoul’s steps slow down as the both of you near and he looks back, hand hovering over the door, to check on you.

The glinting chemia symbol you see on his clothes draws your attention but you decide now is not the most ideal time for questions.

Seeing your nod, the ghoul pushes open the door, the music not even halting for a second.

Staying closer to the wall, to the shadows, your eyes browse the ghouls and return to the one who led you here– almost missing the slight tilt of their head and refocusing your attention on the ghoul that stays near, over the keyboards.

Another symbol of chemia on their clothes, and the bassist, and the guitarist and the drummer and so on…

The youngest Emeritus doesn’t seem to have noticed your existence just yet, but the nameless ghouls certainly have, you can feel the temperature drop and see their bodies tense up.

Then, he realizes when he sees one of the ghouls staring at a fixed point and following their line of sight.

“Ah, corvino!” he exclaims in a giddy fashion, adjusting the microphone stand, “came to see me, si?”

Hands clasped behind your back, you stand motionless.

Recalling Void’s words, you do not owe anyone a word, not even a sign of life– save for Sister Imperator perhaps, and only because you’re positive misfortunes would await you if you were to dismiss her like that.

He turns halfway to face the ghoul tapping on his arm, the same one who led you here; you can make out the words ‘examination’ and ‘just to be safe’.

Unclasping one hand, you gesture at them to continue, hoping they’ve picked up on it.

Maybe you should try whispering, chances are they have advanced hearing compared to humans.

“The Spade signals for us to carry on as usual.” the ghoul speaks up. Void did mention something about a spade, didn’t she?

You hear Papa Emeritus talk under his breath. “What a shame. And here I thought I was missed.”

Eyes mainly focused on the keyboard player, you watch as they begin playing.

It is a relaxed atmosphere if anything. With the ghouls occasionally walking up to one another, as does Papa Emeritus, teasing or just interacting with each other.

And with you walking farther into the wall, blending into the shadows, the ghouls seem to forget about you, or just not care as much.

From what you can see, their use of the wrist looks alright. A little holding back but you don’t notice any wincing– then again, the song doesn’t really require active use of the joints either.

The song ends and they begin a new one, the youngest prowling from the drummer’s side all the way back to the microphone in a rather dramatic fashion.

So it is one of these songs, you redirect your gaze to the Water ghoul, as the symbol on their outfit indicates.

The song must've neared its end. Eyes trailing from the water ghoul to the others and to Papa Emeritus eventually, you watch each figure for a second or two. They all seem in their element, some even raising a hand in the air at certain beats as the instruments go quiet, so it is a rehearsal of both the musical aspect and stage presence.

Or perhaps they’re just showing up.

Sparing the man his two seconds last, you suddenly see him wink at you, remaining in this stoic aura the entire time.

With a roll of eyes, you flip him off behind your back.

You can be petty a little– it’s not like anyone will see.

The song rolls up to an end and you reemerge from your spot, snapping a finger at the water ghoul and at the keyboard, mouthing ‘Just you now, play something that has the keyboard at the center.’

Much to your lack of faith, the ghoul understands as well as the rest, and begins.

Physical examination in the middle of playing an instrument is not exactly ideal. That, and you're not confident the ghouls would allow you to go near them– let alone touch, be it for the sake of their well-being or not. For what it counts, their wrist seems alright. 

That should teach them a lesson to not fall for their Papa’s drunken antics– you are positive that’s how they got it hurt in the first place.

Another step out of the shadows and into the lights, you bring a hand up to snap again and throw the splint to their direction.

The ghoul catches it swiftly and turning on your heel, you make your way to the door as Papa Emeritus III watches the entire silence exchange unfold.

“So?” “What the–” you almost jump in place, certainly not expecting to be beak to beak with Void’s chirpy voice when your foot barely made it through the door frames.

Collecting yourself and dusting off your skirt, you straighten up and clear your throat.

“The ghoul seems fine. I left the splint just in case.” you proceed to walk away but Void’s gaze on you doesn’t waver.

“And the ghouls?” she inquires when your silence continues.

Is it some sort of tradition born out of boredom to ask the newbie what they think about every oddity in this god forsaken place?

“They were… exactly like you said.” you pause then add: “Guarded, seemed to understand when I muttered under my breath.” Honestly? You didn’t really care all that much, and neither did they. Perhaps it’s better to leave it at that– mutual ignorance.

“Aether was alright.” you mumble as an afterthought as you return to sort through the books, to see if any of them are no longer needed. Your words, however, seem to interest Void only further, as her faint ‘ooh?’ implies– instead of boring her with their vagueness.

Then it hits you, exactly what drew her, and probably another one or two doctors’ attention like that.

“I figured the highlighted symbols on their outfits were there to tell them apart?” you say unsure, testing the waters. It is a question or an answer, all according to what they want.

Void seems to seize you for a moment, even without her arms crossed, she looks serious. 

“Clever girl!” she exclaims suddenly, placing a hand on your shoulder, too hard to be called a supportive pat– not that you think she has done this type of affectionate behavior with other people before. “Papa refers to him as Omega though, just so you know.” 

Her words catch you off guard, you doubt you ever heard Void refer to the man as ‘papa’.

“You wouldn’t believe how long it takes some individuals to figure such simplicities out.” You hear her trail off in the back of your mind.

You learn, and witness firsthand from then on that Void can be quite the affectionate type… verbally.

‘Good and clever girl’s thrown around, you’re usually on the positive receiving end of these, that is, when you are around. Be it walking, breathing or even just a project going as expected, or beyond expectations, she graces the pet names– those she deems harmless and teasing, ‘bad girl’ and the likes. For anything even remotely annoying, or causing a crease on her forehead, her words get much sharper.

Despite having your presence accepted in the entire medical department, enough to be present at any experiment, operation and whatnot conducted; you still find yourself going upstairs, walking down the halls, occasionally passing a sibling of sin or a ghoul, receiving curious, scared and equally aroused looks from the former and icy stares from the latter.

Not even a week in, you find yourself toe to toe with Aether as you exit the grand doors leading to your wing.

The injured ghoul– Air, has accepted physical examination, he informs you and walks by you this time.

The walk still silent like the last time, yet the air around him doesn’t feel as hostile. Taking a turn down the hall, you find your feet going down, to the same floor your wing is located, then deeper and deeper down.

To create an illusion of hell perhaps, since it’d be considered a demon’s home and all.

Yet the halls are damp and cold.

Drop drop, droplets of water fall down the stone paved halls, echoing with each drop of temperature.

Soon it grows dark, until there is light once more. The darkness sees to take forever, the walk down, endless too.

When you begin your examination, Air doesn’t appear to be as enthusiastic, or cooperative; something tells you it was Aether talking him into submission.

All in all, he seems to be in a better condition– if not back to normal.

You wouldn’t know, if the demonic speculations regarding their nature holds any truth to it.

Their skin feels like a human’s does. Maybe a tad warmer but you’re not exactly known for fingers preserving your body temperature.

The feel of his bones underneath the skin seem alright, a little harder than a human’s, the sharp angles of the bones tenting under the skin. Long slender fingers suited for a pianist and nails you’d not expect on one.

Sharp and curved, even from looks alone you can tell they’re more keratinized than a human’s are. You wonder how they’d click against glass or hard, polished wood when tapped against the surface rhythmically.

Recovering the splint from the ghoul, you bid farewell with news of his recovery and find yourself in the cold pits of hell near Aether again.

He leads you through a different path this far, your synapses trying their best to save every turn and curve, every step taken; every light, crack and sign that stands out.

Much to Air’s dismay, you’re positive, Aether reveals to you that he did use the splint, made sure to rest his wrist and now warms up more properly before performing.

You take it all in with a nod and turn, making way back to the doors your hands now always push on the same spot, right above the handle, the carved design fitting right into your palm, the stunted ridges biting against your gloves.

iii.

Emeritus men and their undeniable power within the church has never been a thing of confusion for you, the rank, title and power all must be transferred by blood, a simple monarchy.

You do begin to question however, whether they’re just simple humans or possess powers of supernatural, or something in their blood, something inhuman.

Because every time you think to yourself, that all you want is to have a neutral, quiet day; the man somehow loiters around in your vicinity, as if reading your mind, making sure your day is at the very least contains of annoyance in it.

Time in your hands, and not many tasks for the time being, 

No, there is no other explanation as to how that man can be around you somehow, especially on the days all you want is peace and quiet– two things not in his vocabulary.

“Sister (Name!)” 

The voice grates your ears, coming from behind and trying to sink its claws onto you.

Keeping the rhythm of your steps, you continue walking, ignoring. Only silence follows afterwards.

Then it repeats– again and again.

And with each time, the sound grows louder, closer, more persistent, and repeating more often.

You do not even want to ponder as to how he could’ve found out your real name. Maybe if Sister Imperator keeps files on everyone, you wouldn’t put it past him to get his hands on them and snoop.

“Sister (Name!)” he calls out again, right behind you, and you contemplate whether to face the man or still play the fool.

“I know it is among your rules, the- ah,” you hear him snapping his fingers, to get the words out “speak not, to remain without an identity, but you are off working hours right now, si?”

You are well aware he cannot see, raising an eyebrow in disbelief and irritation, but you’re positive he will sense your energy.

Instead, he takes your silence as an invitation to continue, then again, you doubt even a ‘no’ could stop this man once that mouth is open for all to hear.

“So you can speak, technically, no?”

He tries again. Maybe it’s better to rip it off early once and for all. “I can, but I choose not to most of the time.”

Before he can say anything, you follow up quickly: “To add to that, it was a sister of sin, you were calling out for, if I recall right from the previous weeks. Last time I checked, I still serve as a spade under Ace, located in the medical wing.”

Not sparing him the chance to answer or his brain the time to register, you turn on your foot and walk away.

Was it too stern, did you speak too harshly? He wouldn’t pull some strings for being spoken to with what may come off as attitude and arrogance, would he?

You learn the answer to be another ‘no’.

In fact, you see taking the stern, direct way is often the way to handle the youngest son.

He still lingers around whenever he can, trying to approach you from time to time, ending up with empty hands much to his dismay.

At least he no longer calls you by an improper title, there is hope for this manchild after all.

That morning, the main room is… livelier than usual.

Your fellow colleagues all running around, with a life to their movements, whatever is approaching must have them excited.

Watching them clean the equipment laying around, cleaning the place and seeing there isn’t much left for you to be doing, you lean against the nearby stretcher until Void spots you.

She explains briefly that twice every year, the medical wing has a ‘day off’ where they are relieved of their duties, excluding category red situations which they often attain two members to, and the evening is spent together outside the white coats, or so she says.

“A group exclusive night-out with food, dancing, forms of entertainment, everything on the table, yet with people you do not know technically.” Someone says from behind. “Like a nightclub that requires connections.”

“Alcohol isn’t allowed. Courtesy of those men serving a first hand lesson. Yet any other ways to …let your mind decharge, they are allowed up to certain limits. I certainly doubt anyone would like to waste their ‘me-time’ taking care of an OD case.” Her voice trails of in disdain, even the idea itself must be irritating.

“So when you say ‘like a night-club’?..–” “What happens on these nights, stay on these nights. As long as you maintain your work ethics and keep the relations strictly for these nights, nobody cares. We wear masks and withhold our identity for several reasons after all.” she goes over quickly.

Alright, it wasn’t exactly intercourse you wanted to ask about but good to know for when you feel your libido might increase.

Nodding at her, you hum, “so a ‘The Cult Of Dionysus’ type of deal.”

“Darling,” you can hear Void’s sigh, “I don’t care whatever deity you believe as long as nothing gets in the way of our work,” she shakes a hand in the air as to remind you of the main idea for them, “but may I remind you we are tied to a church that worships Lucifer, maybe better to keep quiet about your beliefs, no?”

You can feel color drain from you with every word she speaks into the air. If it was possible to conjure up a hole and crawl in, then seal the opening, you would.

“I think they were talking about a song.” A faint voice you haven’t heard before comes to your rescue.

“I see…” “Yes! Do you know?”

The doctor entering the picture looks at you with what you assume to be uncertainty. “On the surface. Though I can say, you are not that far off with your comparison.”

With not much else to do, you take your leave, accepting a second mask from one of the doctors before you go.

Compared to the one you wear one a daily, this is just a regular mask, half masquerade appropriate. The shape and details of it still resemble a black bird but the beak covers over the nose and a little bit of the mouth, leaving an opening for it. 

By the time the clock strikes nine, you are down below, a different chamber picked for the night, this one is deeper than the main chambers.

With only candles to light the space, clouds of smoke here and there, the smell of incense fills the air.

Everyone sprawled somewhere, they all appear much different than what you are used to. The change of clothes play a role in this too yet it doesn’t take you much to realize, these nights will be when you see their true faces.

A hand on your arm draws your attention, the same doctor from before greets you and soon, you let her drag you away.

Hand in hand, it feels nice to feel someone else’s skin again. To feel the warmth of their breath on you.

No alcohol but everything else on the table, knowing something is one thing but trying it is an otherworldly experience, you come to see. She guides you through some just in case, ‘maybe this one in the form of tea for your first time will be better?’, the close proximity makes you dizzy, she makes you dizzy, but the feeling isn’t overwhelming.

Maybe it really has been quite some time.

The guarantee of anonymity and the awareness that nobody gives a damn what anyone else is doing, who they are doing, you let the night roll and wash over.

Warm breath tickling your neck, the pressing of lips, hands that once held you now on you, it feels good to be touched like this– not a piece of meat but an equal, someone to satisfy, someone to taste.

You should arrange a gift for Void for forbidding alcohol when you have the time. By the time morning arrives and you are back stationed for duty, your body refuses to imagine how much worse its state would’ve been, were drinks involved.

Loud, the mornings are too loud, your brain decides.

The clank of the tubes grates your ears, you have to slow your steps to reduce the sounds.

Someone speaking from behind you is all it takes for you to be startled. 

“Did you like your party?” 

You stare at the doctor with confusion. Too early.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?–” they ask and the voice of the doctor from last night joins in.

“We use our dates of recruitment for anyone who still misses celebrating birthdays. Consider last night your first one here with a little delay. Happy birthday fledgling.” 

It is still too early, but if you’ve heard right and registered fully, it sounds like a nice idea in theory. And probably just an excuse to take the edge more often. You should find a nickname for this doctor in particular if she continues interacting with you like that.

Too early, too early, your brain keeps chanting. You can sense a headache approaching already.

…Maybe you should note that idea down

iv.

Void and space are similar concepts in a way.

Both symbolizing that lack of nothing; broad, black emptiness, a hole, a vacuum.

When that doctor approaches you for the third time in the past two days, you decide to call her Space in your head.

Anonymity be damned, you can tell them apart by their voices, footsteps, posture and way of handling things alone, nicknaming for the sake of avoiding confusion should not be against the procedure.

Space, like Void, is a bolder person in the wing. Direct methods, direct speech, steps that echo on the stone floors, that latex of gloves slapped tight against her skin.

You haven't seen her outside the wing much but you know the ghouls aren’t fond of her either.

Just as with Void.

Just as with the medical wing.

Something stinks and you’re unsure whether you want to track the source down or wait for your receptors to accumulate.

And Space, just like Void, is very enthusiastic when it comes to more …penetrative and aggressive methods.

Especially when these involve the nameless ghouls– but then again, from what you’ve seen, that’s all that ever involves the nameless ghouls. They cannot come in for a simple auscultation and leave. There is always a strike of color, always a scalpel, blood drawn, inspected and analyzed. Any ghoul forced to come down begs to leave as soon as they can, with minimum contact.

The lucky ones get away with a simple physical examination but that is fruitless on its own when the ghoul physiology isn’t like humans’– or so Void claims.

You never really paid attention to what the others do when there are no cases, mostly you were unable to when you were sent above, yet you find yourself wondering now with Space surrounding you often, offering a helping hand, suddenly leaning above your shoulder to see what you are reading.

You find yourself stumbling over your words more often, actively asking for tasks to leave the quarters, almost tripping over your foot once, dropping a closed file twice, spilling tea over one of the tables several times.

Space leaves you a nervous wreck, a fumbling mess like an interning doctor who has no clue where anything is located, lost in the wide labyrinth of the hospital– worse than when you were an intern, worse than when you were an assistant doctor, you know the information is there, the confidence, the skillset to perform yet all of it locked away and the way to the key goes through her.

You just don’t know what awaits once you reach her.

With enough time spent, you’ve grown used to the treatment you receive from the rest of the place.

Whatever the cause behind this reclusiveness may be, it is not so bad to be surrounded by people constantly, all asking something ‘for a friend’, here to ask for something quick, that it won’t take much, only to complain or even threaten when your responses aren’t to their liking.

As if this is not a service offered but something bought, something that can be attained so easily. 

And with the mix-up of titles with the youngest one cleared up, he gives you a peace of mind more or less– mostly because he doesn’t know how to address you now, you assume.

This does not stop him from trying though.

And like always, you find a way to dodge him through.

Turns out when he doesn’t know what to call you, or knows that he should not even be calling for you directly, not without a line of requests being admitted to the wing for whatever may be the cause of his request for a health service, he opts to follow you around until he loses sight of you.

If you can ever reach speaking terms with the ghouls, you should ask Aether their practice routine, and correspond your outside the quarters duties to those hours.

A grunt is the first response you receive when you try approaching a group of ghouls you see.

Alright, wrong nameless ghouls, better luck next time, and so on…

Before you can search further, a firm grip on your arm holds you in place, giving your brain a little shake; and you have half a mind to hold it right then and there and not explode on the head of the church.

He only grins in return, cheeky and eyes closed.

If blindness was a virtue, he would’ve ascended into heaven by now.

Fully facing him without a word, you wait for him to say whatever meaningless sound will leave his mouth for the day.

“How lovely to see you–“ he halts, his grip on your arm loosens, “err… beloved Spade.” He says the word as he weighs it on his tongue, sounding unconfident.

With a slight nod to show your acknowledgment, you urge him to continue.

“I was wondering would you care to join m–“ without waiting for him to finish, you strip your arm free of his hold, raising the books you were holding in front of his face with a little shake, ‘duties to attend to’, and walk away to what you hope to be the direction of the library.

You doubt he was offering anything inappropriate to begin with. Nevertheless you’d rather avoid any circumstance that'll leave you alone in a room with him– the chances of the occasion resulting with one death at the very least, very likely.

Yet the man does not give up.

It’s almost impressive how quickly you learn his walking patterns and the echoing sounds of his steps.

When your eyes spot the ghoul you were looking for, you make a mental note to thank Lucifer for taking pity on you at last.

Much to your dismay, your greeting is met with another grunt, “They call me Omega.” The ghoul says flatly. 

But the symbol on your– nevermind, you decide to leave it at that and instead, ask for what you’ve come for but he walks away before you get the chance.

You don’t expect to be summoned a few days after that, for complaints about breathing, that’s all the messenger ghoul says.

Blazer, shirt and everything underneath taken off, the dim light falls on the ghoul’s gray skin. The stethoscope’s diaphragm moving from one spot to another under your hand’s guidance, you listen intently as the ghoul breathes with his mouth.

Pulling the ear pieces off and hanging the item from your neck, you get up to face him as he puts on a shirt, ignoring your gaze.

“What was it you called for me again?” 

“Trouble breathing.” He answers curt.

Two can play this game, your voice drops.  “Not the made-up complaint, I want to know why you called for me.” 

The ghoul answers with silence this time, buttoning the shirt up.

“I’ve listened to your lungs, the sounds are clear and well. I can do a full examination with palpation and all but the lot of you do not seem fond of that. So if that’s all, I’ll take my leave.”

The ghoul seems to consider your words for a moment then nods in agreement.

Hands still on the buttons, the ghoul looks up at you, “What should I–“ “Lie on your back, you can keep the shirt on but keep it unbuttoned.”

Watching as he nods a second time then walks to where his bed is, hands quickly undoing the shirt. Lying down with both hands at his side, he looks like the mummy of someone who was constipated right before he died.

Omega watches as you place a hand on his torso, separating your index and ring fingers from the rest and hitting at them with your other index finger, ‘this,’ your voice reaches his ears, ‘is what we call percussion.’ you say as your finger hits the back of your fingers, leaning in and repeating the hit once in a while, listening for the sound you create.

Once you reach down, you switch back to your dominant hand, grabbing at his flesh, digging in your fingers and going slightly up with each breath he takes. ‘And this is palpating.’ You say as to explain.

Your touch is not gentle but it isn’t unwelcome either.

The most Omega can say to describe it would be ‘neutral’. There is no malice, no hidden agenda to gain. Is that because of your profession, is that what a doctor’s touch feels like?

‘By touching and pinching you like this, I check for anomalies,’ your voice is faint in the back of his mind.

He doesn’t know.

Maybe you do deserve an answer after all.

‘If your muscles contract and when–‘ “To size you up.” Omega speaks into the space between the two of you.

A reply for before, you do not finish your sentence, only continue to press into his sides.

“There are better ways to learn about a person.” You say after a while. “A meal, a stroll,” you let Your voice trail off. “You can tell a lot about someone from the way they hold themselves, carry their weight, even how they drink tea.” 

Silence falls between the two of you. Straightening up in your place, you prepare to take your leave, the ghoul leaning on his elbows for support, eyes fixed somewhere else.

As you turn on your heel, his words drag you back in.

“You’re not like them, are you?”

More and more You’re starting to see why they called the ghouls uncooperative. “And you guys are rude pricks, did you know?”

His hands still in place, leaning in, you can picture him squinting his eyes at you.

“What did Dabria tell you about us exactly?”

The name rolls off his tongue like a curse. It sounds latin, or something closer. Is he talking about Void? It’d not be wise on your part to ask.

“Why would I answer to someone clearly on hostile terms with me regarding internal affairs of my division?”

Eye for an eye, a question for a question. His posture slightly drops as if deeming this entire interaction no longer worth pursuing.

“We have our reasons.” He says as he watches the buttons he does one by one. “There is a reason the medical wing isn’t well liked among the more common members of the church.”

After this, he falls silent again, and you retake your initial position, to get the hell out and try to make sense of whatever this conversation was.

Your Hand on the hard surface of the door, You’re about to push as his voice comes out in a whisper ‘it wasn’t always like this.’

Whatever has gone down, all his words leave a sour taste in your mouth. More and more you find yourself less enthusiastic to find out the history between them.

You pay it no mind when another ghoul comes by the main chambers to carry out a message.

It does draw your attention however when the sounds start to increase, the doctor who answered the door, or so to say, sounding rather impatient and their patience growing thin at the ghoul.

Catching your gaze on them, they make a gesture for you to approach and you can make out half the things the ghoul is saying.

Something about fresh blood and direct instructions from Omega himself. Seeing you within an arm’s reach, the ghoul ignores your colleague and takes a step forward, with them stepping into the light you take notice of a box they are holding.

“For you.”

Taking the box, you turn and walk away to create a distance, ignoring the doctor’s partially irritated, partially curious gaze.

The sharp smell of earl grey, sage and linden reaches your nostrils first. Little pouches of tea of various kinds sit inside the small box– appearing to be hand carved upon a quick inspection. What catches your eye is the odd labels on the pouches though, on one it sounds like a riddler, another one just says a number, a chime regarding some sort of special day and what-not.

So he remembered.

The thought brings a smile to your lips.

Snapping the box shut, you walk back to the angry pair.

“Send Omega my regards,” you hold out the box back to the ghoul, “but I prefer to make, prepare and brew my own tea.” Before the ghoul can say anything in return, you walk away to note down the details for the meeting.

v.

Your judgment remains conflicted.

Trying to keep it unclouded is a challenge when you're surrounded by people who do not regard the ghouls as beings of equal will.

There is a bias that shows itself between the lines, for small glimpses in the passage of time.

Benefit of the doubt comes rather naturally when all your hours are spent with them.

Anything of confusion, Space is always around to help. In her idle times, she is still around, sometimes showing up near you, making a comment, saying a joke– a lot easier to get along with than the rest of them. Even if she doesn’t laugh at all your jokes, she still understands them. Equipment you’re about to reach out for appears right under your hands, a slight tilt of head from Space across from you, you can see her smile behind the mask.

You get more involved with the operations done within the wing, patients being brought to your feet often.

If there is one thing they all have in common, it is the trembling in fear you observe in each and every one of them.

Siblings are scared of the mysterious people behind masks, the unknown hidden behind black and beak and the sharp scent of herbs arising from some of them.

The ghouls, however, are an entirely different deal. Fear and fury, fuming with all emotions red and intense.

You don’t want to be judgmental, you really don’t, yet the way they behave even for the smallest, most harmless of things, you’re beginning to see why the medical wing isn’t fond of the ghouls.

When another ghoul is brought in, nothing major, nothing big, but the damned demon will not stop struggling, wriggling in everyone’s grip, trying to escape at every small opening; maybe you do have a limit, and it is about to be crossed– or has been already.

One of the doctors is pinning the demon down to the table from the chest as you spot Space drawing near, most likely to become an extra pair of hands.

“Hey, did you hear music therapy can help loosen up a patient, maybe even sedate them to a point?”

You can feel the other doctor staring at you in careless confusion, probably thinking something along the lines of ‘this brat is talking nonsense again.’ Yet the message delivers.

Tapping her chin, Space hums in deep thought, “Worth a try, do you have anything in mind?”

A sudden high pitched sound and you see her rushing to a cabinet, mumbling about that one being left there after the latest gathering as she crouches and leaves your line of sight.

With a guitar in her hand, she re-emerges, expectant eyes on you, waiting, “you play?”, she responds with a strum of the strings.

“Alright how about chords to match this:” and you hum the melody in your head.

Listening to you, she copies the tune in no time with ease.

Before the ghoul can look between you and her, you break into a singsong voice: ‘I’m so sorry that you have to have a body!’

Placing a hand over your chest, you make a fake pout, scrunched up brows with pity. With each repeat of the sentence, you can see the ghoul tense up, chest moving rapidly.

Up and down, up and down, the ghoul snaps up once you enter the first verse,

It will betray you, you lean into the ghoul’s direction,

Be used against you, you can see your beak almost touching that silvery mask, a smile on your face as you sing,

Then it will fail on you, my dear, you tilt a head and tap on their cheek, an action that’d be considered sympathetic were the circumstances different.

‘But before that,’ you spin on your heel with a hand in the air, ‘you’ll be a doormat!’ you wave your index at the ghoul, lean in slightly and whisper. Both hands in the air, you move them around, wobbling your head, only to walk back and seat yourself on the edge of the operation table next to the ghoul’s legs. The ghoul trembles, kicking their feet in the air, struggling to break free of the restraints as you lean in closer with each word you sing, your voice lowering.

Space watches the scene before her eyes, a foot tapping on the floor to keep rhythm. When the ghoul starts posing a threat that can break free, the other doctor slams their wrists back against the table, pinning the ghoul down with force– leaning to the side and prompting yourself up with your elbow, you watch as the ghoul uses the last traces of their stamina.

“Stop moving around or you’ll not be getting anesthesia.” the ghoul hears you say and snaps their head to your direction.

The main lyric of the song spills from your lips and you hop off the table, walking up to a nearby cabinet. Opening a drawer, you take a packed syringe out, fingers roaming over the small drawers with labels, your hand stops before propofol.

You’ve seen the others use ketamine more often but the side effects seem like an extreme measure to you. Not to mention how beyond stressed the ghoul is now, no thanks to you, too. Quickly preparing the drug, you set it aside.

‘Filled with infection’ you mumble the lyrics to yourself as you take out anything else you might need, walking back to the ghoul quickly, you roll up the sleeve, tie the tourniquet, those are quite the plump veins, you cannot help but think. Take the cannula, check the vein, insert the needle, ‘singing in unison’, you can hear the guitar has slowed down. The flashback of blood comes, darkest you’ve ever seen, and appears to be thicker than a human’s. Pushing the cannula in and securing its place, the rest of the steps come in easy.

The song is now a mindless rhyme on your lips, ‘uninvited, passing through us’.

It's the hands that know you’ve set it all up, before the mind. 

Flicking lightly at the syringe containing the drug, you insert it ‘I’m sorry that you have to have a body’, and watch as the ghoul’s movements come to a stop, still, the body going limp and the mask falling off with a loud clank against the stone floors.

Another idle day with your colleagues uncharacteristically moving around means another night of gathering to come.

Not much to do in the headquarters and not having any unfinished or upcoming work that requires your attention for the moment, you decide to go ground level and look around.

If you’re lucky and the weather takes pity, you can visit the gardens and pick some thyme for yourself, at worst, you can kill time in the library or fall asleep in its warm confinements.

You always forget the worst case scenario until you hear his footsteps a few meters away from you.

“Greetings doctor.” He catches up to you with ease, perks of having long legs you suppose, and matches your pace. “Busy day ahead?”

“Or plans for the night perhaps?” he asks when you don’t do as much as offer him a sign of acknowledgement.

“I’ve heard you corvi like to have your fun, despite berating me for mine, eh?” Either a bluff or this man is more resourceful, and surprisingly, smarter than he looks.

You’re leaning more on the former to be honest.

“Come now caro!” he whines, “is this not your day off, you can speak, no?” you’d almost find his tone desperate… if this was not the same man who somehow manages to put fear into the hearts of some, leads and gets along with a bunch of ghouls with attitude and knows how to impress people when required.

“Ca–” His word gets stuck in his throat as a third figure joins you on your other side and whisks you away.

Well, whisked away in his eyes, you spotted Space as you turned the corner and only quickened your steps when she was right by your side.

“Doctor.” 

“Doctor.” Space and you exchange nods, and break into giggles right after.

“Any plans for the night?” she asks with glee. “Not yet. I want to check what the Doctor was grinding and stirring earlier today.”

Faking a hum, she nods at nothing in particular. “An excellent choice indeed. I’ve heard tonight is the perfect occasion for this.” “Couldn’t have agreed more myself, my dear colleague.”

It is weirdly entertaining to straighten up more than a wooden ruler and talk without breathing from your noses, intimidating old geezers patrolling the hospital halls, only looking for younger faces to scold and embarrass.

Before turning the corner, Space shoots a quick glance to behind.

“It seems someone is rather fond of you.” you can hear the tease in her voice, a groan escaping your lips immediately.

“Do not even get me started.” your eyes roll involuntarily at this point, “the fruit fly probably got dismissed by everyone else and picked me as his most recent victim to annoy to death.”

It might as well be simpler than that in reality.

You do know your colleagues have stopped emerging to the ground level unless absolutely necessary, the man must be equally bored and curious to suddenly see a figure in all black, with a beak and a hat, roaming the halls smelling flowers and old books.

“I honestly doubt he could tell even the two of us apart. He’ll grow bored of me eventually.” a reassurance to Space or to yourself– the mask is always on her face but you can feel the unconvinced expression burning into you.

“Hm… whatever you say.” a stranger's opinion should not hold this big an effect on you, yet it does. 

And Space herself has become more than a stranger for you to be easily ignoring her phrases like that. Every sentence that comes out, you cannot help but look for more, the things between the lines, the undertones, the implications.

When you hear her voice, it’s her warmth you can feel on your skin already, her eyes that gaze into yours, her lips that move and mesmerize–

Come now, let’s get ready.”

The spell breaks in the same fashion she set it up, once again.

vi.

One thing you’ve come to enjoy is visiting the gardens and picking up herbs whenever your stocks begin to waver.

The gardens is a gleeful distraction, not quite like the church, the cemetery or the chambers smelling of disinfectants.

When Void is summoned by the clergy to go over some immediate matters that morning, your suspicions of the man recognizing you out of all the doctors, despite the standard outfit everyone wears is confirmed.

You watch from a distance as everyone dispels after few hours, the youngest Emeritus treating Void like he does anyone else, without any show of emotion in his behavior, like she is just some background character to fill the space, no different than the clergy members or anyone else for that matter. 

Now lies the question of how he tells you apart from the rest of them.

Maybe he does not, your brain begins to theorize when it’s been over a week and he has not tailed after you once, let alone approach and pester you like always.

You were right after all, he did reach his limit and grew tired, just as predicted.

Then how come you don’t feel light and at ease like you hoped you would be?

The answer comes to you on a cool spring afternoon as your hands dance in the little bushes of rosemary, allowing the leaves to tickle your skin.

“Doctor.” the voice you’ve grown too familiar with speaks in a matter stranger to you. So he can do formal when he wants to.

“Sire.” you greet back with a nod, your hand still stroking over the rosemaries. 

“Fond of music and entertainment of our own, are we?” He lazily walks up to a bush of roses, threading his hand between the thorny stems. Eyes slowly following his line of movement, your hand comes to a stop, a leaf plucked between your fingers.

“Quite the interesting song, too. Tell me, did you write it yourself or did your little friends help with that as well?”

If it is not odd to not have him follow you around like a desperate little needy kid; hearing his voice come out stern and without any of its usual sway, accompanied by a smile that does more to unnerve you than give comfort definitely is.

The mention of a song and the image of that doctor’s hands appearing before your eyes clears up the confusion rather quickly yet you remain in your posture.

“Was it worth it, at least?” he presses on, “amusing?” his voice grows louder, or he has gotten closer.

“The poor thing went on for days, repeating it like a mantra. What was it again, the terror of body?–” “body terror song.” you cut in, standing up on your feet, a stem of rosemary plucked and tossed to the basket by your feet.

“There are better ways to thank me, you surely must know.” you pass the man in his robes, ignoring his stern gaze on you.

“For what?” he lets out a dry laugh, “traumatizing one of my ghouls? I will say it only once, spade.” the title sounds bitter on his tongue, “Stay away from my ghouls.” 

“for preventing the ghoul from becoming broken beyond repair” you emphasize on the word, your voice rising to match his tone, ignoring his warning.

“From dying, or becoming a mere doll to experiment on,” you list off in a calm manner, speaking out each word slowly, watching his expression morph as each word sinks in, “no?” cocking your head to the side, you imitate him..

Despite the combination of distaste and discomfort on his face, he seems to weigh your words, reaching the same conclusion as you did, hopefully.

“Maybe next time, prevent your colleagues from getting their hands on my ghouls.”

Seeing as he is not ready to give up just yet, you opt for a scolding: “Maybe next time,” you mimic his accent, “you teach your ghouls basic hygiene and how to maintain their immune system.” Bringing a hand to the base of your beak as if pinching your nose, you let out a sigh. “I mean, the things they come for are usually minor cases deteriorating.”

With your eyes closed, you don’t see the man before you perk up at your statement. 

Creaking an eye open, you’re met with the sight of him staring at you with childlike curiosity and wonder. “You mean?..–“ he takes a pause, contemplating.

“Do you know the flu?” You place a hand on your hip, maybe all he needs is a little push and guidance.

When you catch him nod hesitantly, you shift your weight onto your other foot. “The flu is a typical cold season disease, yes?”

Another hesitant nod and you throw your head back with a groan. “So it is an easy condition which you can recover from without any permanent damage.”

Waving your hand with each thing you count, you take a step forward. “Kids have it every year, adults have it every year, just sneeze into your napkin, strengthen your immune system or get vaccinated if yours is weak. But–“

Another step forward, you begin to realize just how little distance is left between. Clapping your hands together, you point down at the floor, “the flu still kills people.” Cocking your head to the side, your hands point down further to emphasize. “When the living conditions are bad or the immune system is weak. A preventable simple disease.”

The task of picking up herbs and the barely filled basket all cast aside, the two of you stay like this for a while. His eyes looking everywhere but yours.

Then as if having an epiphany, he perks up again, “Doctor!” looking more like a cartoon character than a real person– a child, is what this man truly is, you are convinced each time you interact with him.

“Come down for a visit and teach my ghouls!”

Not so much of an epiphany then.

“Or you can purchase any parenting book, learn and teach the basics to them on your own.” You say flatly, observing as his shoulders drop at your words.

“It wouldn’t be the same without you. Is this not your expertise? It’d be mo–“ “Pediatrics was my least favorite actually.” 

You can see confusion written all over his face at the first word. “Besides, I cannot be of any help if their physiology– if their body works different than a human’s.” You correct yourself, “They’re your ghouls, you said it yourself! It’s better if you do it.”

“Anything you wish to know about them, they would–“ he looks up, snapping his fingers, “ah, what was it?.. Cooperate! yes, if your help meant they’d not be called down to your wing.”

The offer itself is tempting but it feels like acting behind your coworkers’ backs somehow. But on the other hand, this could result in more time for yourself if you managed your schedule just right.

With a sigh, you walk back to where the basket lies and crouch down for it.

“Fine, I’ll do it, but you’ll run the date and the time through me first.” One last attempt to sound like you do not want to do this, you blink a few times at the beaming smile blooming on his face. 

“Deal?” you hold out your unoccupied hand toward him, “see you soon, corvino.” He gives your hand a firm, singular shake.

When Void is called in for another meeting, it draws everyone’s attention but no one comments on it.

Knowing her, whatever exaggerated nonsense came up this time will become this week’s focus of mocking and gossip.

It turns out to be much worse instead.

In the meantime, you find yourself with the ghouls, spending enough time to know their names and tell them apart by voice. They are reluctant to take off their masks, 

A whiny ‘it’s not fair now, is it? you guys can see my face.’ doesn’t work as you’ve hoped, some bullshit illogical explanation about how it’s only some of them that can see through the masks, and despite your claim you keep yours on, blah blah blah.

Apparently ‘I don’t want Mr. Halloween to see my face.’ isnt a good enough excuse– something about the ghouls not giving a fuck about what he says or thinks, or even his presence, from what you’ve gathered thus far.

What Sister Imperator asks for is three of the doctors to accompany the band for an event. Claiming the recent reports and analysis point to extreme heat levels for the estimated period of time and to have professionals at hand to intervene if anything happens, both for the band and for the crowd could be beneficial.

“I don’t care how you do the whole gig and stage thing, but we are not some circus, ready to act on your every word.”

“That’s what i said to her” Void miciks her behavior from earlier, sounding exhausted.

“And what did they reply with?” One of the doctors from behind you asks. Dropping her head into her palms, Void lets out a loud groan, “That if this is a circus, we are also a part of it. And it’d be good for the public image. Whatever that means.” She scoffs.

“However–“ she speaks up again, a mirth in her voice, “three will stay behind, with me. And the clergy has a meeting due one of these days. The church and everyone in it will be left to us.” She spells the last sentence, syllable by syllable, like a meal to be savored with small bites.

You can feel Space perk up besides you, as well as two other doctors.

If there is no way out and the departure won’t be immediately, you should at least warn the ghouls.

During your idle times and faked emergencies occurring whenever you are the first to attend to the matters, the ghouls provide to be more interesting than you have expected. Still fiery, that’s a given but once past the biases they hold, they become somewhat friendly. 

Curious little children, in a way. Not even for a second they sit down to rest, certainly got captivating stories to tell and more than willing to learn about themselves, asking you to explain each and every single thing– even after staring at you dumbfounded, barely nodding or hearing what you’re saying.

Their physiology is like a human’s mostly. Viruses are an extremely different matter obviously, their heart is stronger, muscles are more developed, a thicker skin and a different melanosit, and of course; the tails.

A detail they’ve kept hidden from your colleagues successfully for so long and the very same body part certain ghouls use to whisk away your equipment, or mess with each other. The amount of times you’ve witnessed one tripping another has started to become dull.

To your surprise, Omega has been made aware of the little collaboration between your wing and the band ahead of time, the nameless ghouls scattered around the church on alert and ready, heightening their senses and keeping an extra eye all the while remaining out of sight as they always do.

The ghouls who play do appreciate your attempt to warn them, the action itself taken as a show of trust and mutual understanding as far as you can tell. They are still wary around you, not giving away their trust or information about themselves so easily but progress is progress, that much you know from the horns, tails and the fangs they do not bother to conceal around you anymore.

It’s only after joining the church that you come to realize how dependent on phones you have become– seeing as to you are the only one you’ve spotted with a phone on their person.

It is handy though, you cannot be blamed for getting used to its perks.

Using mobile devices to forward reports to one another, no longer bothering to have a physical copy of any scans, not needing to look for any fellow colleagues– you need to learn the condition of a patient who has been transferred to a new department? Just call a doctor stationed there, it’s easy!

You never realize the importance of something until you have lost it after all.

Even for X-Ray graphics– and that is if someone’s condition requires such scan, trying to get it done is a chore on another level in itself; their way of display is old school. 

Everything you have come to do here is like that, a true wake up call to your age, you can tell that much. This is no small village in the middle of nowhere yet with the existing opportunities, or their lack thereof, it sure feels like one.

When passing time becomes a new obstacle, you find yourself left with picking up hobbies long forgotten or reading. 

The latter is more accessible, and with the upcoming requirement to answer any and everyone question down to its basics, no thanks to the ghouls, your chamber is loitered around with books of all kinds.

Unfortunately most of the medical books in the library archive are outdated.

Trying to rummage through those, you do find books looking a little too ancient, their focus often the spiritual and supernatural.

All in all, the pros of reading outweighs the cons– you make a mental note to make a request for more recent books for the medical wing though. If the clergy can afford all that for a band, they sure can spare a little for books.

A knock disturbs the silence of your chambers when you are reading a pathophysiology book, take note of the pages you hope can be understood by even the ghouls.

The answer to your “Yes?” is the door opening, revealing Space taking a step in, the usual beaked mask forgoed for the simpler ones you wear for the meetings.

Seeing your head deep in the book, she chuckles at the sight. 

“Take a look at this bee. Were you always such a sweet, little, hardworking student?” The silence of the room stands out to you after hearing her honeyed voice fill the air.

“Only when I’m procrastinating.” You say with a smile, eyes not leaving the page.The sounds of her footsteps signal her approach.The bed dipping with a sudden input of weight, you can feel her settling down next to you, eyes still on the pages but the words have become a blur by now.

When you feel warmth radiating from her body, when her fingers lightly tap on your jaw, slowly tilting your face to hers.

When her lips make contact with your skin– there is a warmth to it different from any other kiss you’ve had before.

It feels odd though, to have her kiss you outside the chambers, on an usual night, without anything coursing through your veins, or hers, without the influence of anything you can pass off as an outside substance.

Space’s lips move from your jaw to your mouth with a pace she set herself, not rushing eagerly but not lingering too long either. Her lips move with precision, committing every little curve, dip and line of your lips– not too passionate but sensual enough that it surpasses a simple hook-up.

The hand she had on your jaw moves down slowly, dragging a finger through your clothes and widening the distance until the sound of your book being closed shut reaches your ears.

Back from the book, her hand returns to your chest, trailing patterns as she deepens her kiss, leaning into you further with each second.

A part of you is worried, raising a hand to put between you and her, on the ready– did they not say all is fair as long as nothing interferes with work though? Why should you deny yourself, and Space, this? It’s not like anything will change between the two of you after all… right?

One by one, each thought in your mind begins to blur, her presence as the only focus you have left remaining in your head, outside the quarters, she smells nothing like the chemicals reminding you of hospitals– only a sweet fragrance, dripping like honey, sweet nectar of myths, legends and of gods.

[megsironthrone]

Meg's Game of Tales: Tale 6

*Familiar characters are NEVER mine! The original "Beauty and the Beast" is the work of Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve.*

Warnings: Beauty and the Beast AU. Angst. A little fluff??

Pairings: Varys x reader

Varys considered himself a man of intelligence. He was always one step ahead of most people (Tyrion excluded). So how had he ended up banished to an almost forgotten little village on the outskirts of a looming and foreboding castle that no one else seemed to notice or rather didn't want to talk about? It made no sense to him, but that little village would end up changing his life in ways in never would have expected.

Curiosity was one of Varys' more troublesome traits. He was always curious about what people would say or do in certain situations. So, when no one could tell him anything about the castle or its inhabitants, Varys took it upon himself to find out. Before he'd had a network of spies to do that for him. In this new place, he was on his own. With that in mind, he set out toward the castle on the other side of the forest.

As he traveled deeper into the dank woods, the atmosphere shifted. The air felt stifled and heavy. The light was nearly gone despite the fact that it had been early morning when Varys set out. There was something dark in that place and Varys found himself spooked for the first time in a long time. He was half tempted to turn back, but once again, his curiosity got the better of him. He had a need to know everything about everyone wherever he went. This was no different. So he pressed on.

It felt like he'd been traveling for hours when he finally made it to the castle. The air was even denser and the sky even darker. The castle itself was also dark and looked to be falling into disrepair. Stones were cracked. Walls were covered in ivy. Snow crunched under Varys' feet which surprised him. There was no snow anywhere else along his journey or in the village. That was when he truly knew why no one wanted to talk about the castle. There was almost certainly a curse upon the place.

A low growl caught Varys' attention. He turned to see a pack of wolves circling around the gate of the castle. These wolves were hunting and Varys was not about to attempt a return to the village in the middle of a hunting pack. He was sure they wouldn't attack, but wild animals were unpredictable. That left only one option that didn't lead to him freezing to death. He had to enter the castle.

To his surprise, the door opened easily. "Hello?" he called as he entered the castle. It was cold and dark except for the light coming from one room. A fire. Varys slowly walked toward the room only to nearly trip on an old clock. He bent down to pick it up.

"Will you please put me down?!" Varys nearly dropped the antique. A talking clock?! "You need to set me down and leave. Immediately! Before the master finds you here!" Varys brows furrowed. "Honestly, can't you see he's chilled to the bone?"another voice asked, "We can't just throw him out!" Varys glanced down to see a candelabra and a teapot looking up at him.

"It seems I was correct. This place is cursed," he muttered, but the household objects heard him anyway. They all looked crestfallen. "Yes…a sorcerer cursed our master, the castle, and all of us. As well as the people of the nearby village. It will take a special person to break the curse…so far, no one has been successful and it has been ten years already."

"And how is the curse to be broken?" Varys asked. There was a small part of his brain that was calling himself stupid for talking to a candlestick. "We cannot say. The curse forbids it." Varys sighed. Damn his curiosity. "Come, let us take you to the fire to warm up and I'll fix you a nice spot of tea," the teapot offered. Varys thought about declining, but he didn't want to face the snow and wolves outside. So he reluctantly agreed.

He was hardly in his seat when he heard what sounded like another growl. "Who are you?!" Varys jumped in his seat and turned around. Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn't it. Honestly he was expecting a beast. A monster of some sort. What stood before him was a person. Albeit, this person was scarred and their face was twisted into an expression of pure rage. "You are not welcome here!"

"Master, please. This poor man has lost his way. The wolves…" Your face hardened further. "So, you decided to trespass? Come to look at the monster? Well, take a good look!" Varys didn't see what you meant, but looked at you for a long time. After a while, he spoke again, "I was simply looking for a place to wait out the wolves." Once more, your expression grew fierce. Clearly the wolves were a tender subject for you. "Oh, I'll give you a place to stay. The tower."

*time skip and YOUR POV*

You found yourself sighing as you tried to read again. Your prisoner, Varys, had been in the castle for months now. Actually, he wasn't a bad person. You were simply angry. You were angry with the sorcerer who'd cursed your home, your friends, and yourself. You were angry every time you looked at the scars littering your face and arms. And you were angry with yourself. It was your fault you'd been cursed. You truly were a monster. But Varys didn't seem to see that.

After your initial anger, you let him out of the tower and offered him a room. You weren't going to let him go. You didn't want the villagers crashing down your door once he told them, as he was likely to do. He was angry at first, but you soon found yourself enjoying his company. In fact, you could say you were falling for him. But it wasn't enough. Not enough to lift the curse upon your house. He needed to love you in return. And no one could love you. That was all you thought.

Still, as time passed, you began feeling something you hadn't before. Hope. Varys didn't look at you in disgust. He didn't look at you in fear. Even in the beginning. He seemed to like spending time with you until your temper got the best of you. And after his sixth month with you, you decided that you were definitely falling for him. Because of that, you could finally explain your curse.

"The wolves out there weren't always vicious. The sorcerer made them that way. He took away my biggest vice. My vanity. My pride. He used the wolves that used to protect us. He turned my people into objects that grow less human every day that passes. My castle has fallen to ruin because I cannot break the curse myself. I gave up caring. People began avoiding the castle. Avoiding me. And after a few years, they forgot all about us. Because of my selfishness and pride, I'm disfigured and angry. I'm unlovable. A beast."

For a few moments, Varys said nothing. Then, he cleared his throat, his eyes meeting yours. "What happened to you does not make you a beast. While your temper does not help, you are changing already. Since I have been here, you've become kinder. More conscious of your actions and words. I am happy to say I can call you a friend…one of the few I have. And I will help you break the curse. If I can. I hope I can."

You gave him a smile. For the first time since your curse began, you felt that your heart was full. You took a chance and reached over to set your hand on his. "I hope so, too." Your eyes met his and the feeling in your chest bloomed into something you'd never felt before. You only hoped that one day, Varys would come to love you the way you were beginning to love him.

(a/n: I apologize for the wait for this one, lovelies! It has not been a good writing week, but I wanted to get this out for you today!)

[ripspaghet]

bff | 06

↳ series m.list | 00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | ongoing

→ pairing: yoongi x reader

→ word count: 5,860

Prologue Summary; Your best friend's boyfriend takes an unhealthy interest in you and just as he shows up something from your past starts to creep up on you again. Could this strange and mysterious man have something to do with it? And should you trust him, or your instincts to run far, far away from him?

→ warnings: angst, swearing, cheating, self hate, trauma

Gone. Gone again. Anytime he feels he's gotten closer to unearthing the melody it slips from his fingertips, like water. It would all be so much easier if he didn't have this desire, this want. Every time it's silent he feels there's this void, something gaping within him, and life begins to feel dismal - yet, he still finds himself here, in this dark and desolate place that doesn't belong to him. A single red light aluminates in the darkness and he's left with no choice but to approach, shatter the glass, and enter. It isn't until screeching alarms pull in attention that he truly realizes that this place is not his own. Invaded. Breached. Ransacked. He's an unwelcome guest - although, these simple facts don't stop him. They pull him in, glass crunching beneath his shoes as he takes a seat. Fear and adrenaline suffocate the darkness looming around him, screaming that he is not wanted. He just needs to remember it. His fingers run along with the ivory keys, the smooth melody of the first five notes flowing into each other, only for an eerie pause of silence to follow. He lets his fingers slip from the keys. It's useless.

A soft echo of notes makes his eyes open.

He turns, looking for where the tune originated - but there's nothing, no one as far as the eye can see in this dense cloud of darkness. Nothing but the alarm filters through.

It's been exactly a day since it happened. The way your nerves are making your heart quake has, if nothing else, increased with time. You've been utterly restless - pacing around your dorm, spacing out while staring at the chipped paint of your white walls, and picking at hangnails excessively. You know you're going to have to face this. Otherwise, the rug will be pulled out from under you when you least expect it. It's safe to say you'd rather be the one pulling the rug, then be the one standing on it, waiting anxiously for your inevitable downfall.

You knock on the door about five times before it finally opens, making way to the threshold beyond it and a pair of pleasantly surprised eyes. Her gaze makes your stomach drop, so you opt for studying the interior details of her apartment. It's spacious and open, natural light pouring in from just about every nook and cranny. It suits her, she's never been one for reciting in the dark - despite her, more often than not, glaring gaze.

"____," She opens the door wider, "I didn't know you were coming, I would've made food if you called. Come in." You oblige, taking off your coat as you enter the apartment, the smell of scented candles, and floral encasing you in a spring time-capsule. You hang your coat on the rack next to the door. "It's been so stressful since the new semester started, we've barely had any time to hang out." You follow her into the kitchen after removing your shoes. "Work has been crazy too, you remember that kid that kept coming in and ripping the flowers off their stems?" She circles the center bar, making her way to the fridge and pulling out a pitcher of what you presume to be tea as she pours it into a glass, "Well, the manager refuses to ban him. He blames me for allowing the kid to destroy our merchandise." She slides the glass to you, "You prefer it cold, right?" She sighs, "That manager, such a prick. I'm really considering quitting if this keeps up." Remaining silent you watch as she fiddles with her own glass as she rambles, "I didn't mean to neglect our friendship or anything. It's just between all this and...Yoongi," Your stomach drops and your ears go fuzzy. You don't hear much of what she says, swearing you're about to barf up the chicken you'd had for lunch not all that long ago. Her voice lowers as if she's afraid someone might be listening in, "He's being so strange, showed up h-"

"Mina, I need to talk to you about something." You don't dare meet her eyes, you keep them downcast on the dewdrops of condensation rising on the glass of your untouched drink. She falls silent, the air around you becoming heavy. With a sigh, you take a seat at the bar but still neglect to touch the tea in front of you. Mina moves to take the seat next to you, still silent, observing your exhausted expression. "Listen, about Yoongi - I don't really know how to say this, so, I'll just say it. He k-"

You're startled into a flinch as fumbling footsteps followed by a loud crash of glass and fuck knows what else, cuts you off. As you turn your head, a lanky body stumbles out of the hallway into the kitchen, their back to you and Mina as a harsh swear makes your breath hitch. Dirt and glass is now spread out across the marble floor in a messy display and Mina moves quickly while you remain in your seat, watching as she rushes with worried words, "Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?" 

As if you hadn't already realized, your eyes nearly bulge out of your head, heart slamming up into your throat as his dark hair falls over his brows and shifts ever so slightly with the tilt of his head, "I'm fine, " His dark eyes never leave you as Mina scans him for injuries, "your plant, not so much."

"I'll get the broom." Mina saunters off, leaving you alone with the source of your guilty conscience - you're dripping with it, a metaphorical layer of sweat against your skin that's almost suffocating.

"____-"

"Don't."

"Got it! Yoongi, hold this for me."

His mouth is quick to clamp shut as he takes the dustpan that's shoved into his chest, his eyes darting away from you, "Yeah, sure."

Mina works quickly as always, swiping the dark potting soil up into the yellow pan that Yoongi holds steady. Nervously, you shift your gaze away from the two and pick up your tea to take a large gulp.

This is going up in flames. How are you supposed to tell her with him here? You don't want to be- No, you shouldn't be caught up in this. You should have never let it happen…

"There," Mina's voice pulls your attention back up, "I'll-"

"No, I've got it." His hand lightly brushes her wrist before he turns to dispose of the dirt. The gesture is small enough to convince you that neither of them really noticed it - just a natural loving touch, nothing unusual - though, it's enough to make you look away again.

"____? Are you alright?"

Your breath hitches and you have to force the hard expression on your face to loosen, "I'm f-fine." They are together, happy, maybe even in love. He hasn't said a word to her about any of it, yet, he wasn't alone in the act. You could've stopped him. You could've pushed him away, should've told him no. She's your best friend and you let him-

"What was it you were saying? Something about Yoon-"

"Nothing," You force a big smile, "I think I was just a bit worried about you. As you said, we haven't made time for each other lately."

"Oh, " Her lips purse, "we should make time for each other soon then."

How selfish are you? Never in your life have you thought of yourself as a horrible person. But now? Your skin is crawling with self-loathe. Every time you meet Mina's gaze your stomach drops - not because of what happened, but because of how it made you feel. The images that run rampant in your head shouldn't be there. It's all the worse that there was no lust driving your actions - there was a deep-rooted desire, an intoxicating burning beneath your skin that makes you dizzy just thinking about it. A passionate fire had dwindled to life beneath your ribcage. It should make you sick. You should be repulsed at the mere thought. "I should get going now. I don't want to intrude on your couple time. I'll see you in class."

"You don't-"

"Call or text if you need me."

The hallway is clustered with people, bumping shoulders with you as you drag yourself along. Maybe it's best you act like it never happened, that Mina remains happy and not miserable knowing the man she is in love with kissed her best friend...and that her best friend allowed it - kissed him back even. And maybe you deserve this dreadful feeling that's swelling inside, growing larger day by lousy day.

You stop abruptly, a student behind you swearing at you for making them walk around. You don't know why you've stopped, don't know what urges you to turn your head but, never the less, you do. You blink at the letters next to the door. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you peek through the small door window. It's tantalizing, filling you with more anger than any remorse. You let this thing, this object, control you. Your every move and action revolves around running from it and for what?

Before you can convince yourself otherwise you're yanking the door open and marching in, heading straight for the ivory keys sat on the opposite side of the music room. How could you be afraid of something so ridiculous? It's pathetic. You plop down on the bench, eyes set to kill as your fingers naturally fall into the correct posture. And with a soft and steady exhale of air, your fingers slowly ignite, brushing along the keys with a fevered nostalgia.

'Prélude no.25 in C sharp minor, Op.45', a piece you once knew like the back of your hand. The memories of it still linger fresh in your mind, so much so that your hands could flow with the smoothness of the lilting notes even in your sleep. Your turmoil seems to whip and lash at your fingertips like a ravenous animal as the song crescendos, the tempo increasing with veracity and then it cuts through you, a sharp pain traveling up your right wrist and you yank your hands away. The room falls silent, nothing but the sounds of birds chirping outside and the wind whistling. Your eyes sting with unshed tears and you can't help but slam your foot into the floor out of frustration.

"____?"

Your breath catches in your throat, fear falling in the pit of your stomach as you turn your head.

"What are you doing in here?"

The sight of Jimin's blonde hair and worried eyes only calms you a little. You'd worried that maybe someone else had found you here, but it being him wasn't exactly any better. "I just-" You turn to look back down at the piano, your brows knit together, "I don't know."

"Come on," Jimin is quick to make his way over to you, yet you don't turn back to face him - even when he wraps his hand around your wrist and gently pulls it up to inspect, "you shouldn't do this to yourself." You turn slowly, reluctant to face anyone at such a vulnerable moment, but you manage to frown at him as the pad of his thumb traces soothing patterns into your skin. His hair is swept neatly across his forehead, a soft smile plays on his lips that doesn't meet his eyes, "Does it still hurt?"

"It hurts every day, Jimin." You turn away, "You know that."

"You're strong ____."

You flinch, not expecting him to say that, of all things.

"After everything that's happened, I've never known you to give up. So, stop putting yourself down." He pauses, coming to sit beside you but never letting your wrist go, "I know you can't play anymore, but your talent doesn't just exist within a piano. It's a lot more than that." Still refusing to meet his gaze, you begin picking at a hangnail, "Here," He lets your hand go and you briefly glance over to see what he's doing just as he holds a small yellow sucker out to you, "it's lemon flavored."

You glance down at the thing held up to your face, "Why-"

"You like lemonade, right?" He smiles, eyes twinkling, "Hurry and take it, we have to get to class before you're late again."

You snatch the candy from him, sniffling in annoyance, "What am I? A five-year-old?"

"You don't have to be a child to enjoy the sweeter things in life."

You abruptly plop down into your chair between Mina and Jimin, exhaling dramatically as you do. If only it'd all been a dream and you could just forget it. How many times have you thought that now? Were you in the Hundreds now? Thousands?

"Everything alright?"

Like clockwork, you sputter nervously under Mina's gaze, "Ah, yeah, just tired. Must be insomnia or something."

"Insomnia?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to look at you, "Do you have that?"

"Yes? No? Maybe? I'm not a doctor. Where is the professor?" Both of them turn their attention to the front of the class, seemingly not taking notice of your jumpy behavior. Though, you're sure Jimin did. He just knew when it was time to leave you be.

"Oh, that, " Mina nibbles on her bottom lip to keep herself from smiling, "Professor Lee caught some nasty bug over the weekend."

"I fail to see why that would make you smile like a little school girl that just wet herself."

She scowls at Jimin, "The professor asked a former student of his to teach the class until he returns."

What?

"Oh, wow, so Loverboy is subbing just so he can stare at your toxic face all day? I don't buy it. He must be into guys."

"Excuse me?"

You think you're about to vomit up your breakfast.

"He finds me cute and couldn't get enough."

"He absolutely does not!"

Please, for the love of all that's good in this world.

"Told me himself."

"Stop making shit up, Park!"

"As soon as you stop buzzing in my ear, you fly."

"I am not a fly! You-"

The classroom door slams and you jump in your seat, making both Jimin and Mina turn to you questioningly as you squeeze your eyes shut in denial. Slow footsteps make their way to the front of the lecture hall and the echo of them makes you cringe.

There is absolutely no way the universe hates you enough to-

"Hello, my name is Min Yoongi, a music producer and a former student of Professor Lee's. Unfortunately, the Professor is bedridden and has asked me to substitute for the time being, let's get along well."

Never mind, the universe doesn't hate you - it loathes you. You'd think that after everything you'd have no trouble avoiding him. Hell, you thought that he'd do the same, but you suppose Min Yoongi isn't going to be giving you any breaks anytime soon.

You let your head fall from your hands and slam into the desk beneath you with a concerningly loud thud.

"Woah, are you alright?" Jimin places a hand on your shoulder and you miserably slug away from him.

"Don't touch me."

The class drags on like a snail and you've sat here long enough to, staring at a head of dark hair, try to hex the man it belongs to about a thousand times - give or take. You've yet to see a beehive fall from the ceiling and send him running home though.

When the bell finally does ring you're not even granted the semblance of running out yourself as Mina cuts you off, "I'm having my birthday party early this year."

"Oh, really? When is it?" You keep your head down as the two of you mosey along, closer and closer to the front of the classroom.

"Tomorrow at my place."

You nod, more focused on escape than anything else.

"It was going to be on my birthday week, but Yoongi and I made plans together for the day of my birthday. We're going to-"

"That's great Mina. I'm sure the two of you will have a great time together." You force a smile as if your life depends on it, "Say, what time is the party?"

"Oh," Mina laughs with realization as you inwardly sigh with relief at the welcomed change of subject, "it's at eight."

"Great."

Mina bounces over to the exit with excitement, "You'll be there?"

"Of course." You force another smile as you follow after her.

Almost there, almost home free.

"Great, I'll see you then."

You nod again at the threshold, watching as Mina waves back to you.

"____, I need to speak with you."

You freeze, a deadly chill rushing down your spine. "No, thanks." You wave behind you, not turning back as you continue with your escape.

"It's about your test."

You freeze again, your eye twitching at your lack of luck today, "I'm in a real rush, I can't-"

"Come here, now."

Fuck the universe, that vindictive bitch. 

Reluctantly, you turn and make your way back towards the center of the desk you had passed by with ease not all that long ago, "You failed your last test. Professor Lee informed me that you need to retake it, or you'll fail this class."

You keep your eyes directed on the wall behind him, not once sparing him a proper glance, "Okay, I'll find a tutor and-"

"There's no available tutors, because it's exam season. I told Professor Lee I'd handle this, so I'll be teaching you."

Your eyes are quick to dart to his now, "No!"

His fingers tap against the desk and they draw your attention as his eyes narrow in on you, "This has nothing to do with-" He pauses, letting out a steady breath of air and you lift your gaze back to his. Rather than being irritated or annoyed, as you expect, your surprised to find that he looks super uncomfortable, maybe even anxious, "our relationship outside of this room. And might I remind you that this test is half this semester's grade. You'll only fail again without proper help." You grit your teeth, holding back your protests. You hate to admit this, but he's right - again. "Starting next week come here after you've finished all your classes. I will be in the office grading papers. And-" He slides something across the desk to you, "your laptop, you left it."

You grab your laptop quickly before turning to leave, all the while not uttering another word to Yoongi.

The bathroom mirror is fogged over completely - except for a small spot that you've whipped at in order to dab foundation onto your neck, thoroughly painting over the purple and yellow discoloration on your skin. You juggle with your phone in your other hand, holding it to your ear, "I just- hear me out?"

"Why should I? I don't like her, so the answer is no. End of conversation."

"Please? I don't want to go alone."

"Why not? It's not like it's going to be a fun party. Doubt there will even be alcohol."

"You-"

"Get out of here already!"

"Shit," You begin shoving your makeup back into your bag, fumbling with your phone in the process.

"Listen, I know you've been having a hard time lately but there's no way in hell I'm-"

"Fine! Don't go! It's not like I need you there or anything!" You slam the bathroom door shut behide you, sure to piss off your roommate, who is washing shampoo from her hair.

"Don't be like that, ____. You know she wouldn't even want me-" Throwing your bag over your shoulder you pull the phone away from your ear and hang up. After all the things Jimin has put you through, he can't even do you the smallest of favors. You stomp over to your dorm room door, storming out into the hallway, and down the stairs. You shove the glass door to your complex open, letting the cold wind blow tangles into your freshly brushed hair as you stride toward the Lift driver that's been waiting for you at the curb for the past thirty minutes. Under normal circumstances, you'd apologize to the driver for making them wait, but as you've established, time and time again, these are not normal circumstances. As you buckle your seat belt the driver takes off, drifting at about thirty on the speedometer.

A heavy sigh falls off your lips and you lean your head against the window as the first ticks of rain make contact with the transparent glass. Your phone buzzes in your lap and you glance down at it. You half expected it to be a text from Jimin, although the notification is from an unknown number.

Message from Unknown Number-8:32pm: Let me make up for lost time. Please, answer your phone.

You begin typing only to be cut off by another buzz.

Message from Unknown Number-8:33pm: Don't try telling me I've got the wrong number. Jimin gave it to me.

You scowl down at the small screen before abruptly turning off your phone. You curse Jimin as you shove the phone into your bag.

"Thought you said you weren't going to come."

He fiddles with the ends of his hair, all the while avoiding your gaze, "Well, Jungkook agreed to come along so-"

"You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know that?"

Sighing, Jimin leans against his younger friend, but Jungkook's attention seems to lie elsewhere as he completely ignores the two of you, "You know how I feel about Mina."

"Yeah," You turn to see what's got Jungkook so preoccupied, "and you know how I feel about parties." Across the room you spot Mina and Yoongi. The two are conversing rather aggressively and you inhale sharply, barely managing to remind yourself that it's normal for Mina to blow things out of proportion and it's probably nothing. You don't need to worry. You force your attention back to Jimin.

"I have no idea how you feel about anything nowadays. You're-"

"I swear I'm never doing anything for that she-devil again."

You turn to see a rather annoyed Seokjin now standing behind Jungkook, with a large birthday cake in hand. 

Raising an eyebrow, you tilt your head, "What are you doing here?"

He looks away from Jungkook, who is now laughing at his elder's misfortune, "I was conned."

"Ah," You nod and point at the cake, "she made you bake that?"

Jimin shakes his head, "What a shame you let her walk all over you."

"Yeah," Seokjin rolls his eyes before glaring over in Mina's direction, "it's too quiet in here. I'm going to start some music."

You watch Seokjin make his way over to a speaker and then leave for the kitchen. The smell of birthday cake tickles your nose now as the sound of soft pop music lulls the small crowd of people in the apartment space.

"God, this is boring."

"Beyond boring."

Those two seem to be unable to keep their moping to themselves since you arrived, although you haven't paid them all that much attention. You're more concerned with how you're going to avoid eating cake later on. You hate overly sweet things with a passion and Mina's cake is sure to taste like a sugar rush.

"We should liven it up a bit."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"How about it ____?" You drag your gaze away from a frowning Mina to glance over at Jimin, who's holding a plate full of crumbs that were previously covered in chips. Jungkook stands next to him, bordly munching on some handmade snack you couldn't remember the name of. The two of them refused to stay anywhere that wasn't right beside the snack table. You guessed since there wasn't any alcohol, they were making do with what's available.

"Can you two behave until the candles are blown out? I don't wanna hear Mina yelling until I've already told her my excuse to leave."

Jungkook nods, "Understandable,"

"I suppose I'll wait."

You just want to go home and get some more sleep, you couldn't care less what these two goons had up their sleeves. Yes, you want Mina to have a good birthday, but you can only maintain your act for so long while around her. Faking isn't your strong suit.

"Oh, God,"

"Wha-Oh,"

You glance back over at the two of them to see that they're staring across the room. Jimin is frowning, while Jungkook looks as if his whole life is flashing before his eyes. You turn to see what it is, only to find yourself wishing you never did.

"____! There you are! You sly fox, you. I've been looking for you everywhere."

Your stomach drops, "Who told him?"

Jimin scowls as his friend makes his way over to you, "It definitely wasn't me."

"Sorry, ____. He promised me he wouldn't come if I told him." Jungkook scoots away from you out of fear of your wrath.

The guy approaching you is quick to move to your side, placing an arm around your waist. You're sure to send Jungkook the deadliest of glares that has him cowering behind a now, rather aggravated Jimin.

"Tae, what are you doing here?" You almost choke as you force a smile onto your face.

He pulls you closer to him, a smirk playing on his lips, "I heard from a little birdy that you'd be here." 

As a strong urge to knee Jungkook in the crouch starts to settle in, you grit your teeth, forcing yourself to bear it and not cause a scene.

"Yah, Taehyung, who do you think you are, clinging to my best friend like that?" Jimin's brows have shot up in question as he stares Taehyung down with accusing eyes.

His arm doesn't leave you, though you can feel him stiffen under Jimin's intimidating gaze, "I-"

"If you want your dick sucked find some other girl to do it."

Taehyung frowns, "Jimin, I'm not-"

"Taehyung, " You pat his shoulder, gaining the attention of all three boys' in the process, "how about you go get me a drink from the kitchen?"

He looks back and forth between you and Jimin, slightly suspicious before nodding, and heading off.

Jimin scoffs, "The nerve of him."

"I'm going to get some fresh air. Tell him I went to the restroom or something. Also, try to keep from fighting. Like I said earlier-"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't want to ruin Mina's birthday party. Blah, blah, blah."

"Jimin," You glare, "I'm serious."

"Alright, " He groans, rolling his eyes, "I'll stop. Just go before that horny baboon gets back and tries humping your leg."

You roll your eyes but nod never the less. Jungkook whispers another sorry to you as you walk past them towards the apartment door. You only wave him off, not caring enough to bother with his inability to keep a secret. You're too tired and honestly just wish you could go home. You mean, you could go home with the excuse of, "I started feeling sick." Which wouldn't be a complete lie - thanks to Taehyung. You know Mina wouldn't fall for it though.

Luckily, her apartment is on the bottom floor and it doesn't take you long to make your way outside. The warmth from the building's heater almost seems to melt off your skin in the chilled air. It's only around dinner time, but you suspect the sun has begun to set behind the rain clouds, due to the darkness that has started settling over the city. Your steps are small as you watch your breath puff out into a cold cloud passed your chapped lips. Fiddling with the sucker that still rests in your pocket, you shut your eyes and listen to the downpour that assaults the sidewalk. You hadn't planned on being so weak, so vulnerable. After all these years you'd hoped that maybe you would've grown stronger by now - but you feel weaker than ever.

An exaggerated sigh startles you and your eyes snap open. 

His back is to you as rain showers down onto the awning above, black shoes resting in a puddle on the curb of the street as he stares at cars zipping by. You've never noticed before, but the rainy weather compliments his skin. You find your eyes lingering on the pads of his fingers and the blue veins below red knuckles - a perfect contrast of colors. Really, you know better than to approach him. You know better than to go anywhere near him - but, knowing better doesn't stop you from making your way over to him with a misplaced sense of determination as he reaches into his pocket, nor does it keep you from plopping down next to him as he places the retrieved object between his velvety lips.

He pauses his actions to glance over at you curiously. You frown at him before reaching up and plucking the purple lighter from his left hand, "What are you-"

You shove the lighter into your pocket, exchanging it with your sucker. You know you'll never eat it, might as well put it to good use. You hold it out to him, "You should replace bad habits with healthy habits."

He turns away with a scoff, nibbling on his lower lip - an obvious attempt to keep himself from smiling, "That isn't particularly healthy."

You glance at the sucker, "No, but it's better than what you had before." Nudging the candy into his now empty hand you purse your lips.

Reluctantly, he takes the cigarette away from his mouth and slides it back into its pack, "So, you're talking to me again?"

"No," You stare at him as his long fingers unwrap the yellow sucker and plop it into his mouth.

"Then what do you call this?"

You look away, opting to stare at the wet asphalt and listen to the constant pitter-patter of the rain, "Why were you and Mina fighting?"

Silence falls over the two of you for a moment before he sighs and rolls the stick of the sucker along his tongue, "She wants me here while I need to be elsewhere."

"It's her birthday party."

"Yeah," He snaps, eye sharpening as they flicker over to you, "I told her a month before she planned it what days I'd have work. She did this on purpose."

"Why would she-"

"Because she thinks I'm cheating on her with my coworker." The words are spat bitterly, the sound of the sucker cracking between the tension of his teeth. Your lips clamp shut and you look away from him. Why are you getting involved? You're only making things messier for yourself. "She's not all that wrong, though. I guess I deserve this."

Your head whips back over, "W-what? Are you cheating with a coworker?"

He turns to look at you, brows furrowed, "What? No, I-" He pauses then shakes his head, deciding against it and laughs, "Why are you here ____?"

You glance around, "I-Uh-Mina said I had to come and I-"

His head tips forward, dark hair falling over his lashes, "No, why are you here, with me."

"Oh," You watch the rain as it begins to slow, "I'm not sure."

"Thought you hated me."

"I should." You grit your teeth in annoyance.

"But you don't." Rather than it being a question, it's more of a statement, as if he already knows exactly how you feel.

You don't say a word, you just blink over at his side profile, heart thudding against your ribcage.

He sighs, turning to look at you, "You and I, I know it isn't good. I know I should stay away from you and you do the same to me...but," His dark eyes trace your features, as if trying to memorize them, "I don't think-"

"Jimin! You asshole! Get out! You were never invited for this exact reason!" 

You both turn to see Jimin stumbling out of the apartment complex, Mina hot on his heels, "It's not my fault your party was boring!"

Shit.

"Shut up!" She lands a solid slap that echoes off the back of Jimin's neck and through the rainy streets.

"Fuck! Jungkook! Do something she's touched me! I'm infected!"

Jungkook isn't far behind the pair, seeing as a second later he's the next person to rush out onto the sidewalk. Mina shoves Jimin's chest and he barks with laughter as he stumbles back, "Are you a child?!"

"Sure, if that's what you want me to be."

"Jimin, come on, stop. ____ said to-"

"____ said what?! Is she the one who brought you?!"

Shit.

"What? No, I-"

Next to burst through the door is Taehyung, who is quick to step in between Mina and Jimin, "Really sorry about all this Mina. I'll escort Jimin home."

"You?!" Jimin laughs dryly, "Why? So you can have another go at ____?"

Taehyung's brows crease as he opens his mouth to speak, but when he glances over to see you sitting on the curb he shifts gears, "____! There you are!"

Fuck.

All of their heads turn to you, Jimin raising an eyebrow, Jungkook looking confused, and Mina narrowing her eyes at you as she assesses the fact that her boyfriend is sitting next to you.

"The fuck are you doing out here?" You can tell that her question is directed at Yoongi, only by the small shift of her eyes. Yoongi simply shakes his head and turns away to watch the cars again. 

Somewhere in all the commotion, Taehyung had made his way over to you, seeing as when he plops down next to you and snakes an arm around your waist you flinch, "Is this where you've been hiding?"

"For the love of God, Taehyung, if you don't-"

Jimin is cut off when Yoongi stands up, pulling you with him by the wrist, and glaring at Taehyung in such a way that he freezes on the curb - hands kept to himself. You fidget at the feeling of Yoongi's cold fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding your breath.  The group turns dead silent before you eventually pull away from Yoongi, taking your wrist back, "Taehyung, please take Jimin home."

"What?!" Jimin squawks at you, "You said you needed me-"

"And I should've just asked Jungkook instead." You're quick to cut Jimin off, glaring at him as if he'd just stepped on your toe.

"I can't believe this. I literally-"

"Aw, poor Park. First time getting dumped on a sidewalk?"

"Shut up!" The snarl takes all of you by surprise, even Mina takes a step back, mouth clamping shut.

"Jimin,"

Jimin's eyes shift back to you, flickering over to Taehyung, then Yoongi before settling back on you, "Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"

"What's going on with me?" You scoff, "You're joking, right?"

"Well, other than the usual shit show you have going on." His words are harsh and they catch all of you off guard for a second time. Jimin tends to be blunt when he needs to be, yes, but never harsh, "I'm fed up, ____. You won't talk to me. You're just bottling it all up. You can't expect anything the change if you-"

"You're the one who gave Hoseok my number!"

.

.

.

a/n: sorry it took me so long to post and that this is kinda filler🙇‍♀️ but it's the start of some character development and the conflict is raising so it's about get crazy real soon👀😳

@team-work-made-the-dream-work @seokchella @crackhead1-800 @chogiyeol-utopia @thatchampagnebitch @jeonchan26  @loveyoongles @ghoularaki @team-wang-puppy

To be tagged send an ask 🍬🚬

[thekwanderer]

November 28 2019

Allison and I wake up just after six this morning. Our only plans are breakfast at 9 and our flight to Goa at 2:40 pm. It takes us a full ten minutes to realize that the power is off in the hotel room. The front desk answers before the first ring finishes and the frantic attendant informs me that the power will be back soon. Allison is hoping to work out, but the elevators are down so we decide it is best to wait until the power seems stable. Electricity comes and goes over the course of the next hour. Around 7:15, the electricity has been on for ten minutes and Allison takes her chances in the elevator. The internet must be on a different circuit because it stays up the whole time. I stay in bed and am able to find and stream the second half of the Celtics/Nets game!

I make a reservation for our group to eat breakfast at the restaurant on top of the building. At nine, we meet at the restaurant and have a relaxed breakfast. The meal is nice, but the breakfast at our first hotel outclassed it in my opinion. The options are essentially the same, but the dosas, bacon, and tea are all a disappointment after what I had come to expect. The view from our table is limited so we go to the balcony after the meal. New Delhi is a very green city. From our vantage, the city appears to be a sea of trees with only the occasional 5 story building rising from the canopy. The roof is occupied by a fleet of pigeons and two large birds of prey circle around the towers of our hotel. Between the birds, monkeys , dogs, and cows the streets of New Delhi teem with life both human and animal.

Allison and I pack our bags and meet the rest of our party in the lobby at eleven. Patrick, Stephanie, Allison, and I play a round of a game called exploding kittens while we wait for Debbie and Richard. Around noon, we call Uber's and start the trek to the airport. Allison and I split one with Debbie and Richard, while Patrick and Stephanie take their own. The drive is uneventful but the streets are as hectic a usual. Riding in New Delhi was overwhelming at first but now I am getting used to the constant noise and weaving involved in every trip.

Our driver pulls up to terminal three and we unload our bags without incident. Anna has arrived before us and tells us that there is a way to pay to expedite the bag check. We head towards the door to find that they check tickets even before entering the terminal. Our tickets are digital, so we head to the door with our phones out. The line is short but when we get to the front, the guard tells Allison that her ticket is no good. It takes a moment to realize that we have our tickets for the flight back from Goa rather than the ones there! Debbie bought the tickets, so she needs to access them on her phone but doesn't have internet. Allison lets Debbie tether her phone to get online, but the entire time we are at the front of the line and doing our best to let people by us. Finally Debbie pulls up the tickets and airdrops them to each of us. The tension drops and we queue back up. The guard checks the first ticket and calmly informs us that we are at the wrong terminal, that we need terminal 1, and that we need to get out of the line so the next person can get through. We scramble out of line and I spot a kiosk that will print our boarding passes. With paper in hand, I ask an Indigo (our airline) employee if our flight is from terminal 3 but no luck. The printing of the pass did not magically change our gate. Panic starts to build as we search for someone with English good enough to explain how we can get to terminal one.

Our panic is spotted by an enterprising taxi driver and he saddles up next to me. He asks where we are trying to go and tells me my options are to take a shuttle, which will take an hour, or pay him 150 rupee (the government price, he assures me) each and he will get us there in 15 minutes. Richard and I are ready to pay the man but our intrepid ladies firmly tell him the only way he can help is to stop talking. Allison calls up Anna and tells her our whole sad story. Anna and Raul tell us that we need to head to the taxi stand and get a prepaid taxi. Meanwhile, the ore taxi drivers watches from twenty feet like a vulture waiting for us to give up. Without a look back, we grab our bags and set off for the taxi stand.

We head downstairs to arrivals and the prepaid taxis. The whole line at the stand is like all the lines in India - messy. It appears that sheer desire and brazenness wins the day here. Fortunately it is not too busy, and I am told the fare will be 300 rupees for four of us and four bags. The man in the booth points to his left after handing me a receipt and I believe that I misinterpret his signal. I think he means for us to talk to he man just to his left outside the booth. This man tells us to follow and takes us an awaiting taxi. He is pushy and constantly trying to grab my bag and the receipt. I am not properly on guard and allow him to get a hold of both! What a rookie mistake! Never let anyone get a hold of anything of yours! We make it to the taxi thankfully and the receipt makes it to the right person, the driver. The man who helped us holds the door open when we get in and refused to close it until we tip him for "helping". Now I realize we were supposed to go approach the drivers directly with the receipt. Worn down, our group produces a 100 rupee note and hand it over with a scowl. He closes the door entirely unperturbed by our disdain.

The ride to terminal one takes a full 15 minutes! The New Delhi airport is apparently very spread out. It takes ten minutes just to see a sign for terminal 1 and in that time I am terribly anxious that something will go wrong or we are somehow headed the wrong way.

Arriving at terminal one, we are anxious to get our bags checked and pass through security. We decide to pay for expedited bag-checking. We skip the line, but it still takes a solid fifteen minutes and three attempted up-sells to get our bags tagged and out of our hands. The security line is short but poorly organized. We find our friend on the other side and also a number of over wedding attendees who are taking the same flight to Goa. The gates are separated from the dining/shopping/waiting area and we are not able to get to the gates until it is close enough to our boarding time.

Once through, we form a gaggle in front of the gate. After queuing up, our tickets are scanned and we head out to a bus which will take us to the plane. The sheer size and inefficiency of the airport is staggering. It seems to me that the concern is strictly making things function, not making them function well.

The scope of the smog becomes apparent when taking off. Within a minute, the city is covered by a blanket of white. As the haze starts to thin, clouds become visible. The tops of dense white clouds emerge like icebergs from the sea of off-white pollution. The air in Goa is supposed to be much cleaner. I am hopeful that we will soon leave the smog behind so that I can see the countryside.

An hours travel from New Delhi, the smog begins to clear and a much dryer and browner landscape comes into soft focus. Landing in Goa, we are told that it is a military airport and we cannot take pictures. When we get off the plane, we see a pretty red sunset, but the air feels many times better than Delhi and we can actually breathe again. Now we are a group of 11 trooping though the airport, and we realize that all of us forgot to book the free shuttle from the airport to the hotel. Our hotel is nice enough to help us find a couple of hired cars to get us there. We didn't realize but the hotel is an hour away from the airport. By this time it is dark and we pile into the car with Debbie and Richard with all of the luggage. I thought I had gotten desensitized to crazy driving from Delhi, but it was still frightening to drive in the dark through Goa. The roads were much windier than Delhi and there was no divide between the lanes going in different directions. Our driver darted out into the lane with oncoming traffic to pass cars and at one point almost came to a complete stop when he realized he couldn't make it between two buses. Debbie and Allison got pretty carsick in the back.

We finally make it to the hotel after an hour. The area looks more like a beachside town with restaurants with open walls and a lot more palm trees and bamboo. This hotel is a Hyatt and familiar. Luckily they do not have a canceled additional room and we are able to untangle our rooms from Debbie and Richard. We go upstairs to freshen up, and walk to dinner. It is an interesting place to walk around because there isn't really a sidewalk to walk on and cars and mopeds don't slow down. In fact some beep and make Allison jump.

We walk to an outdoor restaurant called the fishermans cove where Rahul treats us as per our agreement when we stole his shoe during the wedding. We are just happy to sit and eat whatever was ordered for us. The meal starts with platters of fish and chicken cooked a number of ways. I find the chicken to be scrumptious and even have some butter-garlic shrimp. The entree is a number of curries along with rice and naan. There is some pork vindaloo that stood out with its deep red color and intense heat. This dish is famous in Goa so it was fun to try something from the original place. We then walk back to the hotel and say our good nights as we head to bed.

[airspeedprime]

Such a disappointment. The creators didn't even know this big atla landmark. Then what should we expect from darkhorse and nick? Is atla going to ever breakout into a multimedia franchise it could be.

I think at this stage we really have to consider having canon content come out that doesn’t need to involve Mike and Bryan. Not because I have any issue with them at all, but purely because they are focused on their own side projects and clearly do not have the time or desire to be behind as much content as is needed to keep the fandom and franchise going strong. 

This for me is where I feel we need to have Dark Horse start a new series of Avatar comics that is not about continuing ATLA or Korra where they have to involve Mike and Bryan because they have a direction for the post series content. Instead it would be a Dark Horse original story set in a time period where things won’t get in the way of the stuff Mike and Bryan are involved with, but is still canon. For me this is your opportunity to tackle an Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation Avatar in more depth, just set it somewhere in between Wan and Yangchen where you have 9000 plus years of space. Use Mike and Bryan when you can, but do they need to be behind every piece of content that comes out. I suppose this is where questions about how Nick runs the license/franchise comes in, in that if they want to make Avatar a huge property they need to have someone/multiple people full time in a role that is managing things to take a lot of the burden off Mike and Bryan. I don’t know, they may have these roles already, but it certainly doesn’t feel like it.

I think now is the time to start a monthly single issue format comic and give the fans a series with a regular release schedule.

The next year or two are really going to tell us if there is any ambition for the Avatar franchise, because unless they decide to make an animation that doesn’t involve Mike and Bryan I don’t see where the big excitement comes in and even then Nick have been so hit and miss when it comes to their treatment of ATLA and Korra that I don’t know if I would trust a series not run by Mike and Bryan to work in the way it would have to.

At this stage Avatar is more than just 1 show, it is a property with a story that does stretch across different forms of media, it is just not regular/active compared to other franchises, the question for Mike and Bryan as well as Nick and Dark Horse is “Do you have a plan for the franchise?” at this point I really don’t think there is much of a plan at all. The current comics have done nothing to really show an overall direction they are heading in, is it establishing Republic City? The little bits in the recent comics have hinted at it, but it still feels like we are nowhere near any big move being made so what is the objective of the current comics? It is clear what most fans want, Azula and a lot of the more fanservice-ey stuff like our main cast getting engaged, weddings and early days as parents etc, Iroh’s backstory, Aang finding the Sky Bison etc.

Imbalance while it looks to be somewhat interesting is not exactly blowing me away in terms of anticipation and I don’t know when those more interesting plots are coming back into play.

I just want Dark Horse to come out and say that there is a goal beyond Imbalance, beyond Turf Wars for Korra. Like with Korra we got confirmation ahead of time that we were getting 1, then 2, and finally 4 Seasons, we knew their was a direction and an end goal. The comics went from being able to do those big moments to now moving that little bit closer to just feeling like your standard comic tie-in story where nothing overly notable happens. I hope Imbalance proves me wrong and it is the book we have been waiting for, but right now after the delays and the continuous lack of communication what am I meant to think.

Of course I am happy, delighted that we are getting any new content at all with the Avatar comics, Korra comics and bits of merch that come out here and there. The reason I am speaking out about the want for more content is because I really believe this fandom/franchise can support more content while the quality still remains high and I think more content and more important/notable content is what is needed to bring the fandom back and keep it energised, which it hasn’t really been in a while, of course their are spikes here and there when a new comic comes out or the recent Blu Ray release, but not the level of Korra while it was airing or The Search when it was being released.

Do I expect any of this to be addressed at SDCC or NYCC? Not really based of the showings the last few years, I think the best we can hope for is the Turf Wars Library Edition reveal and perhaps the covers for Imbalance part 2 and 3.

Final point is this. The last full comic released was Turf Wars Part 2 back in January, the next comic is not out until August. Avatar/Korra is still a very popular franchise, how is it ok to go more than half a year between regular story drops. I get there have been production/scheduling issues, but they have been happening far to regularly now and it is something that Dark Horse need to fix ASAP.

Long post, but this is stuff that I feel I needed to say.