#i probably will end up writing about the beauty and horror of consumption

[scorndotexe]

need to stop myself from getting too weird and poetic about cannibalism and gore in this nonfiction piece about the morality of disgusting art and cannibalism but it's soo difficult. what do you mean i can't write about the beauty and horror of consumption.

[firespirited]

Today I fixed up a steamer/vacuum which will probably go to the second hand store, attempted to clean and revive an old Siemens pre-smart phone.

Got a Fidgie Friends head and took measurements of the eyes and replaced them with something less glarey. (ultimately I think it's simpler repaint the ones they come with to have bigger irises and might make a tutorial for that) - pics tomorrow.

I impulse bought a Beauty Cuties arriving next week- i know i know. Head the size of a football, neck peg 1/6th size so rebodying on a large doll is not only an engineering puzzle but finding a skin tone match from the mostly white disney animator dolls is going to be rough.

But i'm not feeling guilty about still engaging in the doll hobby and bringing in new stuff that's hard to flip though because it's keeping me sane until I can find something else. Turns out something that doesn't engage the shoulders and isn't strenuous is not easy to find. Keeping me busy and using knowledge has it's own value, I'll worry about the clutter later.

I left a repaired VIP pets at the phone box library a kilometer down the road this weekend and she was gone and not trashed the next day. 😁 A trial balloon for rehoming dolls when the local 'toys for tots' type charity takes new in box only.

I'm also planning to visit the upcycling and second hand shop this month and maybe I can offer my services wiping or repairing devices (can't do the fiddly work of screen replacement or anything with my hands but I'm quite happy to do the tedious work of scanning, formatting and installing). Idk.

Lily the dog is feeling better, her arthritis flare up is calming a little though she's still a little stiff in the back legs. She's back to mischief which is a great sign, she had me so worried when the pain was making her lethargic. I've looked at various harnesses in case she needs long term assistance getting up and being carried down stairs.

Turned off anon again. Don't want to end up between proshippers and antis when my argument is for critical creation and 'consumption' (I hate that word but reading, listening watching is a mouthful) not purity culture. I believe horrible things have their place in fiction because life has horrid parts but they have to be well handled not just there as a narrative device or shock value.

I can see a whole spectrum ranging from people protecting healthy representation of real life horrors from blanket censorship to folks who just feel entitled to write whatever they want without thought of its impact because right now they find that as exciting and for some it's exciting in the same way as saying the n word.

How about we have some introspection about how open honest discussion in the bedroom seems so improbable and cringey to many people that they'd rather imagine a mind reading lover who doesn't ask... and if writing fiction to normalise having so called 'awkward' talks that 'interrupt the passion' might work as well as all the folks who've successfully turned the condom from annoying formality into sexy foreplay.

Whether we're examining the widespread misconceptions about torture that spread via fiction and have become part and parcel of the carceral and military systems or having complex conversations about whether to put sexual assault or suicide in a story and how to handle it with the utmost care...

My life has been changed for the better by stories that handled dark subject matter respectfully with the weight it deserves. So my argument isn't pro or anti. It's let's do something constructive: the way we ask people to unlearn racism and learn anti racist thought: how about the guidelines on death by suicide in mass media, how about we ask people to apply that to their fiction and get to tag their work as tw: suicide but with a second tag that it's been checked for that guideline compliance.

I want to open the scope from whether or not AO3 should exist into how we can help eachother engage in more thought-through creations and more importantly real long term support networks for all sorts of survivors with all sorts of messy ugly thoughts.

But any time I write a post it's a whole ordeal to dare press send. I really hope folks know that it's always a 'yes and' or 'I wish this were true but it's debunked/mislabelled'

Just realised I didn't get anything on my to do list for today done. Eeesh. Well, that's tomorrow's problem. 😅

[fieryhonesty]

Genshin drabbles filled with sadness - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao

“What have I done? Why did I write such angsty stuff? I feel horrible for hurting the boys. Maybe I should have delete this...”

prompts: loosing their s/o for whatever reason, f!reader

Genre: angst 

Warning(s): nsfw (alcohol consumption, mention of blood) don’t give me that look you don’t want to read this at work, depression & mourning, reader’s dead (no violent or detailed description the boys just lost their girl)

Kaeya has poured two glasses of wine. One for him and one for the woman sitting next to him. She was smiling with the most genuine smile. Pointing up at the sky. The moon and the stars were shining bright. He didn't need any other light source to see her beautiful face.

Just the two of them sitting at the balcony of their shared house. Silently observing the beauty of the night. Drinking from his glass, the sweet-bitter taste was dancing on his tongue. It was as beautiful as the woman he was spending the time with. 

"You know, you are really beautiful tonight, y/n. How about I take a day off tomorrow just to spend it with you?"

No answer.

"We could go on a walk around the city or perhaps go outside the city's walls?"

Yet again, silence.

Kaeya finished his glass with one quick motion. Pouring more wine. The burning sensation in his throat was slowly reminding him something.

"Hey, Dearest. Why don't you talk to me?" 

Silence. 

"Ah, you are right. I'm... a fool."

He starts laughing. It's not a laugh a happy man would have, it's quite the opposite. Kaeya's in pain. His chest hurts, he knows why but dares not to admit it.

Removing his eye patch and tossing it on the table. Looking at his smiling companion. Why is she so beautiful? He is such a lucky man, having somebody like that. So why is he feeling this pain in his chest? Why does he feel like his heart will burst?

The glass with wine shatters. The shards are covered in the red liquid. He closes his eyes. Trying to force the tears to stop forming. Biting his lips. It hurts so much. His hazy memories are slowly reminding him what's going on. 

Just like a movie it all flashes back in the moment you were standing between him and the enemy. Blocking the hit for him. Falling to ground with a painful scream. But before that you managed to look at your beloved. He is safe, you did well. 

He stares in horror at the scene. Wishing it's just a bad horror he is watching. This can't be happening. You didn't waste your life for him, did you? If there was somebody supposed to die it's him. He made a mistake. A mistake which cost him you.

Kaeya is silently sobbing, one hand hiding his face while the other is gripping his attire at chest area. He is sure nobody can see him, yet he still feels like to hide. He might be drunk but he knows the woman next to him is just an illusion created by his own mind. There's nobody at all it's just him and the wine. 

You are no longer alive. It's all because of him being cocky that day. He was full of himself and so sure he will keep you safe. In the end he lost his remaining pride and you...

Diluc is walking in circles. Biting his thumb while doing so. It hurts, he can taste blood but nothing hurts more than his heart right now. Sweat is forming on his forehead as he is trying to suppress his tears. His shoes are making loud thumbs against the wooden floor. The sounds can be heard in the room under his. 

Everyone is silent in the room. Elzer, Adelinde, the old man Tunner and a few more. Listening to noises from Master Diluc's room, yet nobody dares to let him know he is loud. It would be more than rude. Especially now when he has to deal with yet another painful experience. 

First he lost his father and several years later he lost his wife. He was finally happy. Having you by his side was a blessing. You were there for him whenever he needed and he did the same for you. Feeling down? He'd be there cupping your face, planting butterfly kisses on your face. Snuggling you close into a protective embrace.

You did something similar. Playing with his hair when he was snuggled to your neck. Brushing through them, tucking them behind his ear. Saying soothing words. He would fall asleep like that.

But now? You are gone. Your sudden passing away affected the whole manor. You were liked among the maids as you often joined in small talk or offered to help them. Despite their protests it's their job. You didn't mind it.

Old Tunner and folks from vineyards remember how you often walked around. Caressing the grapes or bringing some snack.

Simply put. You were the star which was shining bright for everyone. Lifting their spirits and now you are gone. Everyone is mourning you but none can think of how much he is hurt. 

When Diluc heard about your critical condition he rushed to see you but doctors didn't let him. You needed to rest but your body was weak, they knew you won't make it. In the end allowing him to see you for the last time. Holding your already cold hand. 

He sat there for minutes, until you left him all alone. He didn't move, doctors had to lead him out. Somebody had to pick him up and bring home. He laid on the bed, one hand over his face. Trying to keep his tears away. 

Nobody dared to knock on the door. Not even Elzer who always worried about his young Master. Trying to offer some kind words. He knew his words would be useless now. All he can do is just wait. He knows if he goes his Master will be out of control and won't listen to anything. 

It's just another painful hit for Master Diluc. He thought he would be happy finally. Already had plans for the future with you. Everything is pointless now. Why does life keep taking his beloved ones from him? How much more he has to suffer…

Xiao is silently sitting at the top of Wangshu Inn. The cold wind is caressing his hair. He is observing the distant horizon, how the moon is slowly going up. His mind is blank. If he were a mortal it would be probably clouded by negative thoughts. 

He has no feelings or need for them. He is one of the mighty Adepti, there's no room for stupid things like feelings or emotions. At least that's what he tries to keep repeating to himself. 

Mortals come and leave out of his life. Which is only natural for their short life span. He wouldn't be bothered with it at all. But there was a woman who managed to change him. Showed him what those odd feelings in his chest are. She proved to him he has feelings and emotions. He was just suppressing them his whole life. 

Perhaps it was all for the better. He feels lonely. Usually it would be the two of you sitting here. You would be nudging him about random things. Snuggle onto his shoulder, whispering some nonsense. He would look at you and see those shiny, beautiful eyes of yours. 

He remembers when you fed him with his favorite dish. He was confused at first why would you do it. Explaining to him it's something people in love would do for their partner. Take care of them. He tried to feed you too, it was a clumsy attempt. But you appreciated his efforts.

You showed him so many nice things he could see only from mortal's eyes. He understands some things he couldn't before. All because of you. But what's this feeling? Regret? No. He does not regret letting you enter his life. He regrets being too late. 

Before he could do something you were already gone. The demon which attacked you. That sneaky bastard avoiding his watchful gaze. It dared to assault somebody he thought of as a close person. Taking you from him just as if bonds are nothing. 

When he arrived you were possessed by the demon. Its power went out of control, destroying everything around. He tried to talk to you but there was nothing left, just agony and darkness. He could see the suffering in your face. You didn't want to. You never were a violent person, yet now you are destroying everything. 

For the first time in his life Xiao felt anger was taking control over him. He wanted to eradicate all demons. For what they did all those millennials, for what they did just right now. He knew you will eventually die and leave him, he was fine with that. But he never thought of losing you like this.

He has to do his duty as a Yaksha, the Liyue's protector. Pointing the tip of his spear at your throat. He stopped only because you tried to talk. The words coming out of your lips were just gibberish. 

"Farewell, y/n. I'm sorry."

Ending it just like that. Watching how the blood was leaving your body. Feeling sick from the sight of it. He released you from the agony the demon was causing you. Banishing it as it tried to escape from your dying body. There's no demon safe, not from Xiao. He will continue his duty.

But one thing is certain. He will always feel lonely at night as he got used to your presence. You will remain in his heart forever. Always will have that special place as a foolish but lovely mortal, daring to approach him despite all of his fame as a Yaksha. The cold he feels right now bothers him. Just if you could be there...

[d-criss-news]

Nine Songs: Darren Criss

When Disney, Phantom Planet and Mr Hudson collide: Glee star, Emmy and Golden Globe winner and musician Darren Criss talks Andrew Wright through the pivotal songs in his life and the unexpected ways they found him.

“When we are younger, our gateway drugs to a lot of popular things don’t come from the sexiest of places. It’s up to you how proactive you want to be with your curiosity from there, and how far down the rabbit hole you want to go, if you go down at all.”

Choosing the songs that define you is a tricky business to say the least, especially when the power of song has provided an ongoing soundtrack to your life. “When you’re as avid a music consumer as musical artists are, trying to pin down Nine Songs is difficult,” Darren Criss laughs. So much so, his final choices only really crystallise as our conversation draws to its close. “It’s hard for me not to see the value and joy in literally everything,” he explains. “The curse of the creative person is that your ideas and your interests always move way faster than your body can execute.”

Criss is a creative par excellence. As well as his Emmy and Golden Globe winning performance in The Assassination of Gianni Versace, where he played serial killer Andrew Cunanan, to his upcoming role in Muppets Haunted Mansion Halloween special as The Caretaker, he’s also a prolific musician. Criss enjoyed a decadent musical consumption since childhood, so “this was a bit of an archaeological dig,” he admits. As such, everything from jazz standards, to 808s, punk rock, ‘90s teen pop, and musical numbers are excavated in the course of our extemporaneous journey through the music he loves.

Equally on his mind is how to go about approaching the task of creating his Nine Songs, full stop. “The interesting social experiment is: Are my answers going to be songs that actually shaped my life and were formative to me as an artist? Are they songs that were formative to me as a human being? Or am I picking songs that I think represent who I am to people that do not know me? All three of those things aren’t necessarily the same thing.”

He reaches a conclusion of sorts. “For the purposes of making some kind of decision, I’m gonna lean less into trying to look cool to your very cool readership, and more into the literal, ‘What made me think about music in a different way? And hit me in a very emotional way?’ I think that’s probably the healthiest route.”

Embracing the accessibility that characterises Criss’ picks - or at times the initial touchpoints that led him to them - are something he vacillates over during our chat. “I’ve seen a lot of other people’s Nine Songs and they’re super cool. It’s like Leonard Cohen B-sides and old opera records and stuff. I’m gonna be pretty honest with the pop culture zeitgeist of how I grew up but explain why there is so much value in those moments.” His contemplation continues into the next day, Criss’s publicist passes on his regrets at being tentative to admit how he encountered one of his song choices via the Shrek soundtrack.

A yearning to reinterpret accessibility and the value attached to it drives Criss, however. He tells me that a festival performance that applied the anarchic verve of punk rock to a more refined Great American Songbook number remoulded his perception of music entirely. His love of the fusion of these two genres in particular symbolises the salient musical backdrops of his childhood - the guitar bands he played in with friends, and his musical theatre endeavours that led him to Broadway and multiple Ryan Murphy juggernauts, including his breakthrough playing Blaine Anderson in Glee.

Criss employs these contrasting musical lexicons, and other areas in between, on Masquerade, his new EP. Comprising five stand-alone “character-driven” singles, it sees Criss donning different musical personas. “I’m leaning into people that might know me as an actor,” he explains. “Because if actors can do Shakespeare, romantic comedy, and then do a horror movie and wear a prosthetic nose and a wig, I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just do that with music.” The song “walk of shame” draws on jazz-standard chords interlaced with hip-hop production, “i can’t dance” looks to new-wave, and “for a night like this” is the product of Criss’ goal to create the ultimate end-of-the-night crowd-pleaser for a new-year bash, wedding or bar mitzvah. “This is all of the parts of me as a lifelong fan of these genres, trying my hand at servicing the pieces of them that I love.”

“I really love all styles of music and understanding what makes them unique and special and what makes them really pop. There are so many things that really make things sing - for lack of a better verb - and I like acknowledging those things and celebrating those things.”

“So, let’s begin. I have runners up and shit, and I have artists, I don’t just have the songs, so we might have to pick them as we go.”

“Part of Your World” by Jodi Benson

“When people read this, they’ll go ‘That’s cute, he likes Disney songs’, but it’s more profound than that. Some of the most formative pieces of music to hit me at a very early age would have been any of the songs that were coming from ‘The Disney renaissance.’ The early-mid ‘90s explosion of The Little Mermaid, Aladdin and Beauty and The Beast.

"One of the through lines between the three of those musicals was Howard Ashman, who is one of my all-time heroes. Dramaturg, songwriter - he really was the voice behind what made those songs great. I have always loved Howard’s lyrical sensibility and also Alan Menken, his partner who wrote these songs with him. There was a musical structure to a lot of the songs which I would unconsciously pick up in my own songwriting, not just musically, but the idea that not only did somebody make these songs, but they wrote them for a story.

“There’s a clip of Howard Ashman vocal directing Jodi Benson, who was the original voice of Ariel. It’s a wonderful example of his genius, where not only was he songwriting but he was storytelling in the way he would tell her how to perform it, and you can really see the song coming to life in that clip. That’s when you cross the street from ‘It’s a song’ to ‘This is an experience.’

"There are certain ingredients that are required to elevate music that goes beyond just a nice melody, a beautiful orchestration and a good voice. There are things that are required to really give a performance a characterisation, context and a vulnerability, that he architects in real-time with Jodi Benson. You see that what he’s doing is what makes the record so special, and that’s something that’s always been inspiring to me.”

“MMMBop” by Hanson

“I think my love of Hanson was because some people didn’t like it, so I was like ‘Fuck you, I like this, how do you feel about it?’ But this is difficult for me, because you know, I’m speaking to The Line of Best Fit and we’re trying to be cool! Although, do you know what’s cool? Being accessible! Writing a pop hit when you are 10 years old. Being in a band with your brothers and you’re all below the age of 15, you have a record contract where you are writing, producing and performing songs that are doing well.

“I was 10 years old when their first album Middle of Nowhere came out, and I remember reading somewhere that there were these kids that had a record. At the time, I was playing guitar and I was writing songs, but in my mind I was a kid, and that was it. I couldn’t be on the radio; you had to be a grown up to do this.

"This was the first time where I realised ‘Holy shit, kids can do stuff!’ It’s the value of seeing yourself in the media - that’s a whole other conversation to talk about - but there’s an immense value in feeling like there’s a piece of you out in the zeitgeist and doing well because it’s encouraging. You go, ‘Holy shit, maybe I can do this as well.'

“When you see children doing things, you’re ‘Wow, this is so cute and fabulous’, but then when you actually look at it you go, ‘This is miles above what most people in this age group are capable of,’ and that’s all I saw, because I was in the same age group and I was so inspired by that. This whole album was really a turning point for me, where I was like, ‘I can do this, I can do music too, because these guys can.'

“Ooh La La” by Faces

“This song really blew my mind. It became my own theme. It’s that ‘Make your heart sing’, nostalgic moment when you’re a teenager, driving in the car listening to it, playing guitar with your friends and you’re singing “I wish that I knew what I know now / When I was younger.” You’re like, ‘because I’m an adult now, I’m 15-years-old. If I only knew what I know now.’

“I was doing theatre from a young age and I was part of a young conservatory called A.C.T. in San Francisco. By way of somebody who knew somebody, I had an audition for a movie. As a kid not being near New York or Los Angeles it was really exciting, and this audition was for a film called ‘Max Fischer’, which would become the movie Rushmore, which would become one of my favourite movies of all time by the now very distinguished Wes Anderson.

“Separate from my own objective love of Wes Anderson, when this movie came out I was just around the age of getting into my own sort of identity with music, but also movies - indie movies - and trying to assert who I was. So, I see this movie Rushmore and I love it. I love the soundtrack, I love it so much, it’s one of my favourite albums ever. This song is the end sequence, and the way it made me feel - the vocals on it, I could play it on guitar and it was part of a cool movie - it really represented a lot in my life.

“And because of the acting thing, and Rushmore being great - it’s about this kid in high-school who's misunderstood but has his own agenda - everything about it was just so fucking cool to me. To this day, I cite that song as one of my favourite records of all time.”

“Recently Distressed” by Phantom Planet

“A guy that really formed the way I would sing and write songs is Alex Greenwald, the frontman of Phantom Planet. I went to see Phantom Planet because I loved Rushmore and I found out that Jason Schwartzman [who had been cast as Max Fischer] was also the drummer for a band called Phantom Planet.

"So, when I saw their name on the bill I went, but I didn't know their music. I was barely 14, but their set blew my mind. It was Rock and Roll, but I loved Alex Greenwald’s voice. I loved everything, and I would follow their career from there. I always tell people that my voice is a combination of me trying to be Alex Greenwald, Paul McCartney and Rufus Wainwright, but failing. Alex was incredibly formative for me.

“One of their biggest records was a little while after I first saw them, which was the song for The O.C., "California." That was more of an Elvis Costello thing, and they employed a lot of stuff that sounded to me like The Beatles and a lot of ‘60s mod/pop-rock. But later they would employ things from Fugazi, Radiohead and harder shit, and that eclecticism, again, only accelerated my love for Phantom Planet.

“Recently Distressed” is from their 1998 album Phantom Planet Is Missing. This was a cool rock song that employed these George [Harrison] and Paul [McCartney] background vocals and included all of the things that I loved. It was harder but melodic and employed minor 4th chords and more complicated chords than I was used to. I had grown up with power chords - which are very Gregorian - on a lot of alt. punk rock, like Green Day or Nirvana, and if Kurt Cobain was using power chords then that’s how I was playing guitar. Hearing this music was like ‘Oh, I’m using full chords, not sevenths, minor 4th chords, diminished chords’, shit that I would learn to use more and more.

“When you haven’t experienced much, anything that gives a hint towards possibility, even though it’s probably always been there, you’re like, ‘I like this, I’ve always kind of liked this, but it’s very encouraging to hear somebody else do it and it’s gonna make me reconsider my possibilities.’ That was literally the moment that my power chords turned into full barre chords.”

“Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk” by Rufus Wainwright

“I forgot the other day how I got into Rufus Wainwright, because all of this stuff I was getting into quite young. It’s like when I talk to 11-13 year olds, it’s funny to think that this was when I was really starting to build my musical identity. But then I remembered, and I didn’t want to say because I didn’t want to sound uncool, because he is such a revered artist who exists in a much cooler place than what I’m about to say.

“I loved soundtracks and I would always buy soundtracks for movies that had cool playlists. I had the Shrek soundtrack, and there’s a cover of Leonard Cohen’s seminal “Hallelujah” that Rufus does and he smashes it, and I’m like, ‘Who the fuck is Rufus Wainwright? What a beautiful voice.’ Then I saw that he was going to be at the Virgin Megastore in San Francisco one week, so I go and he’s there promoting his new album Poses. I remember I didn’t have enough money to buy the album that day, so I had him sign my sneaker and I saved that shoe.

“The first song on Poses was “Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk”, which is a very dark and reflective song about his own battles with addiction, but he’s singing it over this really beautiful, whimsical song that has a lot of really great wordplay. I always love when artists, especially lyricists, can encapsulate an idea with not exactly what they’re talking about. The song’s called “Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk”, it’s not called “Addiction”. Its talking about things that he craved and how that’s representative of other things that he’s gone through. There was a sophistication and elegance to that that I really gravitated towards, that I didn’t possess but wanted to shoot for. So when I saw him, that was a big one for me and he would also continue to influence me later in my life.

“I’ve become friends with Rufus since. I’ve performed with him and we’ve made records together, which is crazy. His songwriting was very complex and punk-rock, but he had this classic cabaret voice, the kind of voice that I don’t have. I was fascinated that there was somebody that could write this really dark material but have such elegance on top of it. He was virtuosic on the piano, which I thought was very cool because musicianship is always the thing that gets me going the most about artists.

“You know what? People say, ‘Don’t meet your heroes.' I completely disagree. Chase the living fuck out of your heroes. I’ve spent a lifetime doing so, it’s made me a better artist, and I’ve sometimes got to meet them and work with them. I’ve worked on music with Alex Greenwald of Phantom Planet. I’ve performed with Hanson. I’ve performed those Disney songs with Alan Menken at The Hollywood Bowl.

"This is all because there are people that I love who I have put on my vision board, and the things that they have done are the things that are bringing me to them. So it is nuts, but at the same time you’re like, ‘Well, what else did you think would happen?’ They did stuff that some part of me connected with, so obviously there’s a magnetic pull towards that person.

“Rufus Wainwright is one of my absolute favourite artists of all time and like I said, me trying to sing like him and failing is a big part of my own journey as an artist.”

“3x5” by John Mayer

“John Mayer’s another guy that came around when I was 15. I heard a song of his on a middle-of-the-night, singer/songwriter college radio show. This is where I used to get music. You would listen to these carefully curated playlists that you wouldn’t be able to hear anywhere else, and the host played “No Such Thing”, a new song by this young kid who had just dropped out of Berklee College of Music - John Mayer.

“I’m listening to this song and I’m like, ‘Not only is this guitar playing really interesting, but the lyrical value and everything that is going on here ticks all the boxes.' It was jazz, but it was pop. And he did something that all these other guys and girls I’ve mentioned did. They made something very unique and very accessible.

“I immediately went out to buy this album, Room For Squares, and I listened to it over and over again. It was an album that was really formative for me. "3x5” is a really beautiful song that employs a lot of chord structures and melodies that blew my fucking mind at the time, and it made me wish that I could write songs like that.

“That album was a huge turning point in the way I played the guitar, because it was the first time in my life where I would look up tabs. Up until this point in my life, if I heard a song I could play it instantly. It was like a party trick, I would get how it worked if I heard it, because most of the songs I would hear on the radio - especially those that involved a guitar - were [centred around] power chords. And now I’m hearing all of these ninth chords and thirteenths, and I’m like, ‘What the fuck is this?’ So I’d have to look up tabs.

“I think any young artist can attest to this - when you try and learn other people’s shit, it’s the best tool for educating yourself. Playing other people’s music really helps you lock in what your own style is. Trying to learn these songs - and sometimes pulling it off and sometimes not - really changed the way that my hands moved around the guitar and considered chords and voicings that I’d never really thought of.

“There’s another tie to musical theatre here, where I remember seeing Audra McDonald, who is a very venerated theatre actor, and she did a cabaret. If you’re familiar with cabaret culture, it’s more about performing the story of the songs – ‘Life is a cabaret’. She did a John Mayer song because she thought it was from a musical theatre show, and I was so tickled by this, because I was like ‘Yeah, if you really think about it, I don’t think he knows this and I don’t think his fan base even thinks about this, but there’s a number of his songs that feel very theatrical in the way that the lyrics play with each other and the way the chords move’.

"When I saw this I thought, ‘That is why I like John Mayer’, because yes, he’s an amazing guitar player, but he’s also a really strong songwriter.”

“Cabaret” by Me First and the Gimme Gimmes

“Also, around this time growing up in San Francisco, as a guitar player playing music with your buddies, the number one thing that you play is punk rock. There are different parts of the spectrum of punk rock, there's the NOFX, Swingin’ Utters, like real punk, punk. And then there’s the pop-punk thing that was happening at the same time, which was also equally influential - blink-182 and Green Day.

“Fat Mike was the frontman of NOFX. I loved NOFX, and Me First and the Gimme Gimmes were a supergroup of different members from different punk bands, of which Fat Mike was one of the main architects. They would cover songs and turn them into punk rock songs. They have an album of hits from the ‘60s, and they also have an album called Me First and the Gimme Gimmes: Are a Drag, and that record is just a tonne of musical theatre covers that are done through punk rock.

“That was completely in line with everything I loved at this time of my life but didn’t really know how to articulate. I loved punk rock but I also really loved musical theatre. Not only the performative element of it, but there was a real musicality to musical theatre that wasn’t as present in some of the other shit that was popular at the time, just harmonically, or where chords would go. There was a sophistication I loved that seemed to not exist in punk rock.

“Then hearing Fat Mike at The Warped Tour going ‘Alright, which one of you Motherfuckers loves Julie Andrews?’ and hearing a mixed bag of reactions, because people were ‘What? I was not expecting that from you, sir?’ And then they start playing “My Favourite Things”, a classic Rodgers and Hammerstein song which is very accessible, but sophisticated nonetheless. And I am just living. I’m like, ‘This has got the attitude and simplicity of punk rock, but the sophistication of a beautiful song.’

“That was the first time in my life where I went, ‘It’s just all music. All these categories and boxes are completely arbitrary.’ So I thought, ‘I can do that.' I was playing power chords in punk bands but I realised that you can take chords and make them into other rhythms and voicings and have the same song. I could take a punk song and make it jazz. I could take a jazz song and make it country. So, quite providentially, I would end up on Glee, where they took popular songs and would sometimes do their own versions.

“By that point, I had been doing this my whole life. The first time this ever became a possibility for me was seeing Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, and that way of thinking about music and genre. I’ve put that into Masquerade, and it’s all born from that moment of ‘Oh my God, nothing has to be one thing. It’s just about how you look at it.'

“Cabaret” is from a pretty famous musical that I would’ve probably heard about later in life, but I first heard that song as a punk song and then I went back and heard the original. It doesn’t matter how these things happen, the inspiration happens and then you can go from there. But Me First and The Gimme Gimmes were a huge gateway drug and I play “Cabaret” now every year at my festival. That’s why the festival is called Elsie Fest, because it covers the song.”

“Modern Nature” by Sondre Lerche

“One of the great joys of being a younger brother is that you get to inherit the music of your elders. My brother and I were both really proactive consumers of music, so we would share stuff with each other all the time. But then he would come home from college, which is like coming home from a music festival essentially, right? He was in a new time zone with new people, so he’d bring home these mix CDs that he’d made from people that he’d heard about, and he brings home this guy named Sondre Lerche.

“Hearing this guy blew my mind, because he also was using jazz chords and drawing on musical theatre. Musical theatre’s a massive category, so I can’t just say that musical theatre sounds like one thing, but when I say this, I’m referring to The American Songbook, the jazz standard songbook. “Modern Nature” was a duet that I would go on to play many times with one of my oldest musical collaborators, Charlene Kaye. When we got to college and we both found out that we loved this guy.

“There was a much more whimsical way to how he wrote these songs. And what’s crazy is that loving this guy meant that we also loved Rufus Wainwright, that we also loved these other artists. But Sondre was the first time I considered that I loved that type of music, but I didn’t know that you could be a singer/songwriter and put out music that sounded like it.

“I don’t know if ‘twee’ is the right word to use, but with “Modern Nature” there was a playfulness about it, and again, a musicality that I really gravitated towards. There is a through line - there was a sophistication that was accessible, and me trying to learn those songs did make me rethink the way that I was writing music. The structures were weird and different and I liked that.

“To this day, I find myself writing songs that I think might be difficult for people to ingest, because they’re a little too left of centre, and I realise that I’m trying to write like Sondre Lerche, or I’m unconsciously just copying him.”

“Everything Happens to Me” by Mr Hudson & The Library

“I was in an H&M in Stockholm when I was 21, and I heard this really cool groove and the lyric was “Why must I always play the clown?” It was sung with a really thick British accent, had an 808 feel on it, and lyrically it had an attitude. Who would say something that sounds so like you’re in a Gilbert & Sullivan musical, but it feels hard? It was cool.

“I went home and looked this up and it was off the record A Tale of Two Cities by Mr Hudson and the Library, which would really, really fuck me up. I bought the album immediately because I loved this song. I had to order it on the internet because I couldn’t find it. It was doing well in England and he was on the festival circuit in the early-mid 2000s, but the first song on the album was a musical theatre cover with 808s.

“It was a pared-down, sort of a hip-hop version of “On The Street Where You Live” from My Fair Lady, and I’m like ‘No fucking way, this guy gets where my head is.’ I’d thought about punk rock musical theatre, but I never thought about 808s and 909s scoring these beautiful songs. I go down the track list and he has “Everything Happens to Me”, which is another very famous standard, and he had this really cool, what we would now call chill-hop, ‘study beats’ version of this song. I was like, ‘This is it. This guy gets that good music is good music and you can reinterpret it to offer it as a new song.’

“I would later become great friends with Mr Hudson. I got to meet him years later when I was with Columbia Records, and they said to me ‘Who do you want to meet?’ He was at the top of my list. I went to London and we’ve been friends ever since and have created all kinds of music together.

“He told me a story where Tyler the Creator went up to him once at Coachella and said, ‘Oh man, “Everything Happens To Me”, that’s like my song.’ We both wondered if Tyler the Creator knew that it was a Chet Baker cover. And we were thinking how cool it is that you can offer these songs to a new audience through a different lens. Tyler’s a smart guy, he’s very cultured, and I’m sure he did know. But it’s more the idea that if someone experienced this song and didn’t know that it was a cover, and this is like the first time they ever get to experience it.

“Mr Hudson would go on to do his own thing with Kanye and was on 808s & Heartbreak and has had his own career. I think “Supernova” was a hit in the UK, it didn’t really cross over here to The States, but before that moment for him, that Mr Hudson and The Library album changed my life. People use that phrase willy-nilly, but this literally was a turning point in my life. It all had to do with the same thing that happened with these other songs, where I saw someone do what I always wanted to do but didn’t really know how to pull off. Where he had this fusing of old songs delivered through a contemporary lens, but also laced it with his own original material that also employed the things that made that old songwriting interesting.

“It’s like changing the font of a great essay but finding the font and figuring out that that font is its own art form. He really displayed that marvellously on this.”

The Masquerade EP is out now

[musicallisto]

Hello love,

Congratulations for the 800 followers! You absolutely deserve this and so much more! I'm happy to see how your blog grows and that you're still providing all of us with wonderful content. You're one of the first blogs that I've started to follow here on Tumblr and I'm so lucky to have found your blog ♡

As for your celebration event, could I please request a 🍨 vanilla milkshake with a male Peaky Blinders Character?

I'm more on the curvy side (and insecure about it) and I'm ALWAYS wearing black (which I love, no matter what others say or even more if they object). As for my personality, I'm a highly complex, paradox and complicated individium. I'm unbelievable patient, timid, awkward, kind, forgiving, open-minded, compassionate, thruthful, gentle and calm and I've been told that I have a calming effect on others, that I can easily ground anyone and anything, no matter how troubled their mind is. I prefer vintage over modern things. I think rather deep which often leads me to overthinking everything, which in turn leads me to doubting (very much) myself. You would be surprised how timid and reserved I am, I'm sure you wouln't notice me in a room full of people if it wouldn't be for my different appearance (but I like it this way). I'm always well-meaning, yet often misunderstood (maybe because it's hard for me to articulate myself). I can be incredible lazy, clumsy and forgetful. I've always felt like I don't really belong anywhere, so I've started to distance myself from others a while ago. I'm a outsider, weird, a dork, not normal, a loner and I fucking love it, because I like to be different, I would hate to fit into just one box and to be like everyone else. And I like people who are not ashamed to be their 100% true self, no matter how different that is from the mainstream. I'm the most loyal person you'll ever find, once you earn my trust, I'll always be on/by your side, no matter what. That says a lot, because I'm hard to scare away. Sometimes I feel alienated from the people and things surrounding me and I'm sure that I annoy and bore them. I'm very nervous and insecure around others, which is why I try to avoid people and why I'm not talking all that much around them (though, I'm a really good listener). I'm easily overwhelmed by large crowds and much light/noise, that's why I don't like to go outside, I prefer to cozy up at home. I would never intentionally hurt a animal and I'm not eating any meat, which is very important to me. I believe that there isn't a ounce of cruelty inside me. I'm unassuming and understanding, I only believe what I've witnessed on my own and I have endless acceptance for almost everything. Due to my Insomnia, I'm a night owl. I have strong personal values, am very opinionated and I'm really in-touch with myself and even though I'm extremly insecure, I would never reduce or change myself and views/opinions for someone and I neither have a problem to challenge authority and advocating for my beliefs. I'm a perfectionist and sometimes I really hate it. And, as you can see, I'm unable to be brief. My favourite colours are dark green, black, gold and dark purple. My greatest passion is music, even if I can't sing or play an instrument.(I prefer rock/punk/pop/80s/90s) It's the most calming and therapeutic thing when it comes to my anxiety and depression and I could never live a day without it. You will never see me in the street without headphones in my ears and even when I'm at home there's music playing almost all the time. I could talk for hours about music and what it means to me. And otherwise I love to watch films and series (I like fantasy, horror, psychological thriller, science fiction and psychological drama and almost anything from the 70s, 80s and 90s). I love rainy days and to go outside while it's pouring big, fat drops. What I love the most is to drive around without a destination, while talking and listening to music. And I love to spend time with my cat, if I could, I would have endless animals who live peacefully and loved with me. I enjoy to have deep talks and to be challenged to think. I love to take late-night-strolls, while gazing into the sky and watching the stars/moon. I have a fascination for dark and macabre things.

I really hope that's not too much? But thank you anyway ♡

Have a good day!

thank you so much for your kind words, you have no idea how much it means to me to know that I was one of the first blogs you followed ;; here’s your vanilla milkshake - and it’s also my first time writing for peaky blinders, but I hope it’s alright; and I hope finn shelby will find the portrait I paint of him accurate enough...

Birmingham was a drab and disheartening place enough without the war adding to its joylessness; but somehow the streets are even worse to bear deserted than when they’re bustling and fetid. Especially for a ten year old boy who wants nothing but to play with someone, to talk to someone, to see someone.

With his brothers off fighting somewhere in France and his aunt too busy with her businesses (adult stuff that Finn has absolutey no interest in attempting to understand), the youngest Shelby has been fighting off an affliction worse than consumption and measles, because much more insidious for a boy his age; boredom

and he’s so sad, so irrevocably sad, with no one to bruise his knees with and throw mud at, that he just aimlessly wanders the empty streets whenever aunt Polly isn’t looking, to find a semblance of stimulation

(he used to enjoy the solitude, it gave him time to imagine delirious stories in fantastical worlds and read the most enthralling of novels, but not anymore. four years of reclusion is an awfully long time for a little boy.)

and it’s during one of his escapades that he first meets you

you’re a little girl his age, dressed in a pretty dress, wearing pretty booties and holding a pretty little woven basket, but your face is stuck on the most grouchy frown he’s ever seen on a little girl, and you don’t walk, you stomp down the wet pavement like a wrathful titan

And it’s probably the first time in four years that he’s been this close to making a new friend, so he walks up to you, despite how rusty his communication skills have become

“Girls don’t frown. It’s unbecoming.”

(Yes, pretty rusty indeed; but in his defense, he’s ten, he’s bored, he’s lonely, and he’s only ever heard Ada say it, and Ada is the most level-headed of his siblings, so anything she says must be true, right?)

“Shut up.”

(Well, if it was unbecoming of you to frown, it’s even more to rebuff someone so rudely. You don’t even spare a glance and continue walking; he has to hurry to catch up to you.)

“You can’t say that. It’s a bad word.”

“How do you know that?”

“My family says it all the time, but they told me I can’t say it.”

“Well, my family is not your family. And I hate my family!”

You’ve yelled the last words at the sky, so loud that the crows on the neighboring roofs have taken off in a startled flight.

“They want to wear this stupid dress to go to the stupid market to buy stupid meat. I don’t even want to eat meat, that’s cruel! And I don’t even want to wear a frilly dress! I want to wear black!”

And in saying so you tugged at the pink and white ribbons that encircled your waist.

And Finn couldn’t help being extremely intrigued at this little girl who said bad words and refused to eat meet and wanted to wear black. It was the most exciting thing to ever happen in all the duration of the war.

“You want to wear a black dress?”

“Yes, but my mama won’t let me. She says it’s too sad because of the war. But black isn’t sad! Black is beautiful!”

“Maybe I could find you a black dress. I’m sure my sister must have one. Where do you live?”

And, loyal to his promise, the following morning he had run to your doorstep and snuck into your house - a proper Shelby talent, to be able to go unnoticed or make a ruckus depending on the occasion - with an old, crinkled mourning dress of Ada’s, that had probably belonged to his mother and had been mended several times

And it was obviously five sizes too big for you and you looked more like a ghost from one of Finn’s horror novels, your arms floating in the sleeves and the hem of the skirt pooling at your feet, but your smile was the brightest light he’d ever seen in this whole damn town.

“Do you like it?”

(He didn’t really know why he sounds so nervous. Maybe it was having a friend, a real friend, and doing something personal for them... or maybe it had to do with how fast his heart beat, watching you in that gigantic, shapeless dress)

“I love it! Thank you so much, Finn!”

From then on started one of the most wonderful friendships Finn would ever have, and what would bring a ray of light to the grim existence of a little boy in the midst of a global war

Despite the ration cards, despite the loneliness, despite the worry that tugged at his stoic aunt’s eyes for her son and nephews across the Channel... he found an unspeakable solace in your friendship

And one day, without a trace, you were gone

He knocked on your door; gone. He asked all the neighbors what had happened to the family that lived there; gone. He wrote you letters and sent them to the confines of England; gone. He got scolded by Polly for marking numbers at random on Tommy’s state-of-the-art telephone; gone.

Suddenly he was back to the bleak existence he had battled with before meeting you, and the hollow inside his chest only grew wider as the days went on, because he had no explanation as to what had happened to you, and worried every single day

Thankfully, the war ended not long after, and his brothers came back home, all alive and unscathed - well, for the most part

Fast forward more or less ten years, and much has changed in Finn Shelby’s life and in old Birmingham, but the memory of you still stugs at his heartstrings

One evening, he’s tasked by Arthur to run some errands, send a few messages, scout a few places; the most dangerous thing his older brothers will ever let him do

His task leads him to a bar in the center of town, one that pours its joyous light and music into the street outside; he’s there to meet with a client, arrange a meeting; nothing he’s hasn’t done already

But the evening takes a turn for the unexpected when he recognizes the girl sat alone at a table, enjoying the musicians’ jazz with an air of pure bliss on her face

It’s been ten years, of course, but... it’s unmistakable. That face, that silhouette, and the black ensemble from head to toe... and he’s always had a knack for remembering faces, especially those that mark him deeply

Suddenly he’s frozen on the spot, and he has forgotten why he came to the bar in the first place, what his target looks like - all he knows is you, and how beautiful you look in the dim light of the bar, and the undisclosed and unknown feelings he had for you at the time come flooding back.

Except this time, he understands, and he fears them, because he doesn’t have time for any of this, and it’s way too dangerous for you and him

But he can’t just pass you by and not say a word?

He swallows, hard.

And walks up to you.

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, and your face flashes with recognition, and a little bit of pain as well. Even if you fled without a word, and left him hanging all these years, he’s incapable of rancor

“Finn... wow, you’ve changed so much.”

“You haven’t.”

He gestures at your face, your clothes, how you savor the music like the finest drink in the world, and you laugh and blush, sending his heart into overdrive

“Where were you all this time?”

“I’m so sorry, Finn... my brother died in the war, and... my mom sent me to live with my grandparents in Scotland. We were all destroyed by grief... I needed to get away.”

“Without explanation? Not even a word?”

“I wanted to write to you, so bad, but... I couldn’t remember your address. I couldn’t remember anything about Birmingham at all...”

He nods, slowly, in understanding.

The war opens wounds that never heal, even after all the most beautiful friendships and love stories in the world.

“But I’m really glad I found you.”

His heart is pounding in his throat. Maybe it’s a sign of destiny that he found you here, tonight, alone, and ready to welcome him back. Maybe it’s a word from fate, that you can never truly be apart.

So he takes the seat in front of you, and you smile, that shy but bright smile of yours, and he forgets all about his mission, his client, and his brothers.

They’ll have to understand.

800 follower sleepover

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

I've had a really hard day today and I saw someone wanted more Jimary crack, so I decided to write it to cheer myself up. I hope three fics in a row isn't too excessive. (All credit goes to the anon who suggested this.)

--

‘She’s drunk.’ Joe said very matter-of-factly, lifting his wine glass to his lips, only to discover there was nothing left in it.

‘Very drunk.’ Replied Phoebe, reaching for the bottle nearby and giving them both a refill.

It wasn’t as though they had never seen Mary drunk before. She was usually all giggly and bouncy after a few drinks, perhaps more talkative than usual and, in Joe’s opinion, far less uptight. But they had never seen her like this; her eyes heavy lidded, downing her wine like it was water and clumsily swaying to the music that filled the busy lounge, stumbling every now and again to keep her balance. She was clearly taking her break up with Piers very badly.

‘Freddie’s livid.’ Joe murmured, glancing over at the singer who appeared to be deep in conversation with Peter Straker, but kept glancing over at the intoxicated woman who was trying to coax Brian into dancing with her, much to the displeasure of Anita. ‘Prepare yourself for a screaming match later on.’

‘I already have the popcorn ready.’

Mary eventually gave up on Brian and loudly announced she was heading into the kitchen for another bottle of rosé, almost stepping on Delilah as she staggered through the door. She surveyed the kitchen a moment, the room spinning as her alcohol consumption finally caught up with her, before she noticed Jim sitting alone at the kitchen table, trying unsuccessfully to uncork a large bottle of champagne between his knees.

She had always been a little jealous of Jim. Before he came along, she had always held out hope that Freddie might return to her one day, discover he wasn’t actually into men or something daft like that. But then this Irishman appeared, who wasn’t like Freddie’s other boyfriends; for the first time, it seemed like Freddie was in love and ready to settle down, happy in a way she had never seen him before. It had been hard for her to accept; but when Piers had finally had enough of her obsession and left her, she realised that she would never be able to properly move on with her life if she kept latching on to the past. She had to let Freddie go. She had to accept that, while they would always be friends, Freddie was gay and what they had all those years ago was over.

Jim noticed her hovering and looked up, giving her a small smile. ‘Enjoying the party?’

Mary hummed in response, going to the cupboard where the booze was kept and digging around until she found the rosé she was looking for. When she looked back at Jim, he still hadn’t managed to remove the cork and was quietly cursing under his breath in his thick Irish accent.

It was quite a nice voice, her inebriated mind told her.

‘You have a lovely voice.’ She suddenly said aloud, her words slurred. She wobbled up to him, heels clinking against the kitchen tiles as she unscrewed the top of the rosé bottle. ‘Where is it you’re from again?’

Jim blinked at her dumbly. He wasn’t used to Mary initiating conversation like this; she was usually so reserved. ‘Um, a town called Carlow. It’s near Dublin.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Mary drawled and without any warning, she suddenly plopped herself down in Jim's lap, making him jump in surprise. ‘Ireland is sss-such a lovely place. Lots of sheep there.’

Jim’s face went red, and he carefully set the champagne bottle down on the table. ‘Yeah, I suppose there are.’

Much to his horror, Mary put the bottle of rosé to her lips and began downing the drink ruthlessly, not stopping until it was almost half empty. When she finally stopped, she carelessly abandoned the bottle next to the champagne and turned around to stare Jim directly in the eyes, her smile disturbingly wide.

‘You have beautiful eyes.’ She garbled, moving her finger as if she was going to poke them out, but she instead ended up giving him a weird boop on the nose. ‘And your arms are so big.’ She reached down to squeeze his bicep, giggling like a schoolgirl. ‘I bet you’re really strong. Remember when you lifted me up at Freddie’s birthday party?’

Jim remembered. He was so plastered that night he had almost dropped her on her head.

‘Are you feeling alright, Mary?’ he asked warily, not comfortable with how close their faces were.

‘I’m wonderful, Jim.’ Mary giggled again, though it sounded a little manic. ‘I really, really want to dance. Will you dance with me, Jim?’

‘I’m not much of a dancer, Mary.’ Jim coughed, glancing over his shoulder in hope that someone might come through the kitchen door and save him.

‘That’s not true! I’ve seen you dance!’ Mary insisted, pulling at his hands, ‘come on.’

Jim didn’t have the energy to argue with her, already a little tipsy himself, and he allowed her to drag him into the middle of the kitchen, face filling with colour as Mary threw her arms around his neck and sagged all of her body weight against him. He realised rather quickly that if he let her go, she’d probably fall face first onto the floor and never get up again.

The next five minutes had to be the most uncomfortable of his entire life, as he swayed in awkward circles with his husband’s ex-girlfriend, mindfully trying to keep his hands off her waist. He wasn’t a religious man, but in that moment, he prayed to every God in existence that someone would call him from the lounge and rescue him from this predicament.

Mary suddenly lifted her head from his shoulder and whispered in his ear. ‘Marry me, Jim.’

The Irishman stared down at her, eyes comically wide. ‘Beg your pardon?’

‘Marry me.’ Mary grinned at him, leaning so close that for one horrible moment he thought she might try to kiss him. ‘We can have lots of beautiful Irish babies together.’

Jim sighed. Next time they had a party, he was going to replace Mary’s wine with Ribena. ‘I’m very flattered by your offer, but there are two problems; I’m gay and I’m married to Freddie.’

‘Oh bugger.’ Said Mary, as if she had forgotten that detail. ‘You can still marry me though. We can run away to Cardiff together.’

‘Carlow, Mary.’

Her face suddenly fell and she stepped away from him, looking betrayed. 'Is it because of the cats?'

'The what?'

‘That's why you don't want to marry me, isn't it?’ Mary's lip trembled as if she was about to cry. ‘Freddie has cats and I don't!'

‘Mary, I’m going to get you some water.’ Jim replied, making a beeline for the sink.

‘No, don’t leave!’ Mary grabbed his sleeve, trying to tug him back. ‘Stay with me, Jim. I'll buy you all the cats you want!’

‘You’ll feel much better after drinking this.’ Jim said firmly, pouring a glass of water and turning around to hand it to her. As soon as he did, her lips were suddenly pressed against his own, arms locked around his neck so there was no escape as he yelled against her mouth in surprise.

‘Mary!’ he roared, as soon as she released him, half the water having spilled onto the floor during the struggle. ‘What the bloody hell are you playing at?!’

Mary grinned; lipstick smudged across her face, so she looked like the Joker. ‘I’ve never kissed an Irishman before. Does that make me Irish now?’

Before Jim could even answer, she suddenly dry heaved; he grabbed her and stuck her head into the sink as she vomited up the contents of her stomach.

--

‘What the fuck happened?’ Freddie demanded, as Jim walked into the lounge, his shirt ruffled, a smear of red lipstick on his mouth and a very drunk Mary giggling uncontrollably in his arms.

‘Your ex-girlfriend asked me to marry her, then threw up.’ Jim replied, as if this was a normal occurrence. ‘I’m going to put her in one of the guest rooms so she can sleep it off.’

He turned and walked out of the lounge before anyone could respond. Freddie clenched his glass so hard it was a miracle it didn’t shatter in his hand.

‘I’m going to murder her!’ he growled, lunging towards the door, only for Phoebe to grab him from behind and hoist him up. ‘Let me go! That backstabbing homewrecker is trying to abscond with my husband!’

‘Take it easy, Fred.’ Phoebe said calmly, holding onto the man effortlessly. ‘You can kill her tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, we haven’t even had dessert yet.’ Said Joe, holding onto Freddie's legs to stop him from kicking. ‘I spent all fucking day slaving over that baked Alaska, you’re eating it whether you like it or not!’

Firstly, I am so sorry you are having a hard day. I feel terrible that whilst you are doing so much to entertain us with this outrageous crackship, you are not having a good time. I can just hope that writing these stories bring you as much joy as they bring us.

And now, the fic. I AM WHEEZING. First of all, I fucking love Joe. Even though we've never heard him speak, or ever listened to his words through his own perspective, I feel that your characterisation is so realistic. His dessert comment slayed me lmao.

And oof, Mary being drunk off her ass is my new favourite trope. And lmao her thinking that Jim doesnt want to marry her because she doesn't have cats😂😂😂 Leave him alone, Mary. He doesn't want to have irish babies with you.

And hahahahaha Freddie's reaction is as epic as I had envisioned. And god, this is another nightmare that Jim isn't going to recover from soon.

This is such a fantastic crackship, omg. I absolutely loved this💙💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

Also anon, if you ever want to talk, you can always dm me, if you are comfortable of course🧡

[unsafepin]

Optical Illusions: A Study of Aesthetics in Activism in Two Accounts

There’s been a particular thing bothering me about social media for a while. I should probably get a cool editing app, write it in a few bullet points and post it on Instagram. You know what I’m talking about, right? The goddamn infographics. If I have to sit through another slideshow explaining to me another military conflict, another societal issue, another existential unfairness on a baby pink background in a cheery font, I might combust. But the cognitive dissonance of aesthetics in activism has been a problem for a while, hasn’t it? So today, I want to examine the effect of focusing on aesthetics over content, or, on the flipside, not considering the optics of your activism enough, and what it does to the consumer of your content by picking apart two local activist-adjacent media projects, Tetraedras and Giljožinios.

Firstly, I want to make my own bias abundantly clear. I am personally acquainted with the teams of both projects, so obviously there will be innate personal bias involved. I highly encourage anyone reading to check both projects out themselves (@t3traedras and @giljozinios on Instagram, as well as Giljožinios’ YouTube channel) and make their own conclusions on the matter. I believe that while my familiarity breeds deeper knowledge of my subjects, it also makes me more vulnerable to assumptions about individuals involved. My insights come from the perspective of an observer, not an expert. Welcome to the circus.

The use of the word “optics” in a metaphorical political sense sprung up in the 1970s to describe the way major political decisions would not necessarily affect an average citizen, but how it would appear to them, e.g. 'U.S. President Barack Obama temporized for weeks, worrying about the optics of waging war in another Arab state after the Iraq fiasco' (Toronto Star, 19th March 2011). However, it’s become increasingly relevant in our age of social media, an age of perceptions over substance, of shortening attention spans and increased barrage of information one has to stomach daily. Social media is the great equalizer - a random person off the street can theoretically hold as much influence as a politician - thus it is becoming increasingly crucial for the average Joe posting on the countless apps owned by Facebook to be as familiar with PR terms as a firm with a six figure salary. Or at least that would be nice, seeing that more and more average Joes are becoming actively involved in politics and education, seeking to influence their newfound audience.

So, let’s see how successful average people with no media or politics degrees are at balancing their image. Both Tetraedras and Giljožinios lean into their 2010’s social media project optics: millennial pink themes, bold names, young teams. But that’s where the similarities end. Tetraedras’ brand is safety. The shades of color on the profile are calming, the illustrations are youthful and playful, their more serious posts are interspersed with more relaxing content (poetry, photoshoots, etc.). Giljožinios is confrontational. The colors electric, posts loud and to the point, they’re what it says on the box - a leftist project - and unapologetic about it. This might help to explain why audiences react as differently as they do to these two, on the surface, similar accounts. Because while you might’ve stumbled on Tetraedras organically while browsing, them having almost two thousand followers, Giljožinios crashed into the educational/political social media scene by being featured on the goddamn national news, that’s how controversial the project is. And obviously I am oversimplifying the issue, Tetraedras slowly built up to posting more opinionated content, while Giljožinios came in guns blazing accusing USA of imperialism, but you’ll have to let me explain. Tetraedras, in its essence, is a welcoming environment. They explain complicated problems in short bullet points with accompanying comforting visuals, their mascot is a inoffensive geometrical figure and their face is a beautiful girl, make-up matching the theme of the post. Giljožinios is named after a revolutionary device, their profile picture is a monarch being beheaded, their host quite infamously sat in front of Che Guevara memorabilia in their first and (as of writing) only video. It’s a lightning rod for angry comments by baby boomers, no matter what comes out of their mouth. In fact, I would argue that, if presented accordingly, the idea that the US is conducting a kind of modern imperialism is just a simple fact and personally can’t wait until Tetraedras posts that with a quirky illustration of Joe Biden to introduce the concept to the wider public.

This leads me to my next point, because despite what’s been previously suggested, I’m not here to solely sing Giljožinios’ praise. There is a cognitive dissonance in both of these flavors of social media activism, but while I can understand Tetraedras’ on a PR level, I’m kind of personally insulted by Giljožinios’. While purely personally I find aspects of Giljožinios’ radicalism distasteful, I appreciate the honesty in the youthful maximalism, of coming in strong and not backing down, but from the guys that made a communist Christmas tree once I almost expected something more stirring than “military industrial complex bad”. This leads me to ask: who is your content for? Your average breadtube-savvy twenty-something already heard this a thousand times, because they consume similar english-speaking content and I doubt any minds of the vatniks that came by to fume in the comment section are being changed. I’m obviously harking on a newborn project here, the team of which has already been bitten by authorities censoring their content, but so far there has been a lot of optical bark, but no substantial bite, especially considering the team seems to be in a safer place now. And the inverse is true for Tetraedras, while I can understand wanting to be visually interesting yet inoffensive, their visuals are sometimes laughably, morbidly light for the topics they discuss Sexily posing in Britney Spears-inspired outfits while discussing the horrors of her conservatorship springs to mind (funny how Britney’s conservatorship leads her to have next to none bodily autonomy, including her public costume choices). And, once again, your target audience is teenagers. They understand English, they’ve seen the news, they don’t need you to translate infographics filled with statistics and information that’s locally completely irrelevant. There needs to be some kind of middle ground between aesthetic cohesion and common sense, because this all signals to the viewer that the content is meant to be mindlessly consumed first and to educate second.

Which leads me to ponder what kind of consumption accounts like these encourage, which will surely lead me to an early grave as I drink away the existential dread of how social media rots all of our brains. Because yes, actually, producing funky visuals to convey an idea way too complicated for an Instagram post is fun. I myself got distracted multiple times during writing to make the first slide for my own post. Meta, I know. This is obviously more of a problem for Tetraedras, who seem to fervently resist injecting their content with a few more paragraphs and a tad more nuance, but even with Giljožinios choosing a more appropriate long-form format to educate, I still pray everyday they don’t get lost in the revolutionary reputation their group built up and forget to make a point, not just talking points.

Because what all this all inevitably leads to is misinforming the public. Again, this seems to be less of a problem for Giljožinios, as the amount of critical eyeballs they have on them leads to them being corrected on every incorrect numerical figure and grammatical mistake, I just hope all this harassment, once again, doesn’t get them all caught up in the optics of a revolution against all the Facebook boomers and forgetting to do their due diligence to the truth. As far as I know, the only factual mistake is miscalculating how much Lituania invests in NATO and there’s still a historical debate in their comment section about the existence of a CIA prison in Lithuania, if anyone’s concerned. Tetraedras, however, is safe. And safe content goes down just like a sugar-coated pill, you don’t even feel the need to fact-check it. And fact-checking is what it sorely requires, or else you’re left with implying that boxing causes men to become rapists and citing statistics of every country except the one in which, you know, me, the team and the absolute majority of their followers live in.

So what’s my goddamn point? Burn your phone and go live in the woods, always. But in the context of this essay, if you are a content creator that aims to educate, inform, incite, whatever, you need to put aesthetics on the backburner. And, more importantly, we as consumers need to stop tolerating content that puts being either pretty or inflammatory first instead of whatever message it’s trying to send, because the supply follows where the demand goes. Read books, watch long-form content made by experts, not teenagers on the internet chasing followers out of not even malicious intent, but almost a knee-jerk reaction. Because while the story of those two accounts cuts especially deep, expectations for local-, even friend-made content being much higher than that for some corporate accounts shooting their shot at activism, the problem is entrenched deep, thousands of accounts exhibiting the same problems racking up millions upon millions of followers. Having said that, my attention span is barely long enough to read the essays I write myself, so maybe do burn your phone and go live in the woods.

Also, pink is actually my brand so both of these accounts are being contacted by my lawyers and the rest of you don’t try any shit.

[jessejostark]

Jesse Jo Stark: “I Don’t Write Music, I Write Poetry”

Jesse Jo Stark grew up in a creative household, which certainly influenced her life path. It comes as no surprise that the American singer and designer established herself within the music & fashion industry within no time. We interviewed the “Die Young”-singer on the occasion of the launch of her merchandise collection Deadly Doll and her upcoming debut album.

The music feels quite intimate and honest. What’s the key to a good song for you?

I think it’s the feeling overall. It’s so interesting for me to see how a song can start because a demo is always so much different compared to the result. It’s so beautiful that you can transform something into anything you want. I like a song that shakes me, so I always try to end with something that generates that feeling.

You seem to have admire strings in your music. What’s the power of these classical instruments?

Instrumentation is my favorite overall and just want people to feel that there are live players on any record. Strings make me feel super powerful and nostalgic and give me the feeling that I’m in a dream state. Dreaming is super important to me and I try to bring that in my music by using these instruments that embody the mood.

In what dimension do you think that your upbringing and environment shaped the sound of your music?

In every way. I grew up around people with strong opinions and great taste. They loved turning me on to things I hadn’t heard. I grew up on country, punk, metal, soul, pop, rock n roll, whatever. I didn’t know the names of the genres back then, it was all just music to me and I loved it all.

Your songs have something nostalgic. Are you a melancholic soul?

It isn’t really nostalgia for me because I am just inspired by the things I see and hear. I listen to The Cramps just as much now, with the same genuine love, as I always have. I watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s as if it were made in 2021, so the songs I write aren’t really a dive into the past for me. I just write what I feel. sometimes it comes out sounding like it was made in the middle of the century and sometimes it sounds like it was made yesterday. That’s the beauty of music. you can do it any way you want. I think we can all learn a lot about life from music.

You always explore different moods in your music. Do you learn a lot about yourself by writing music?

Writing is a form of therapy for me. At the end of a song, I always feel like I got to say how I really felt about something or someone. There are many different moods depending on the mood I’m in when I’m writing.

Is writing very confronting or is it more like a relief?

It’s definitely hard to admit to anything. Some of my songs are about confrontational experiences or about other peoples. It’s always hard to repeat yourself in words but it’s too therapeutic and it’s a way to honestly confront things that you probably wouldn’t before. I don’t write music, I write poetry because it’s important for me to put things on paper.

In what kind of environment are you most productive?

Silence and peace are probably the most intimidating and I grew to love that over the past year. I love being cozy when I write and like more quite places during my creative proces. Before that, I’ve written in completely loud places as well but that changed last year.

Do you like to accentuate the meaning of the song with your visuals or do you prefer to give the song a whole new meaning with a music video?

It depends on the video but I’m quite literal in general. For me, visuals are the most important things and I sometimes even visualise a music video in my head before I’ve written the song. When I get the opportunity to actually put imagery behind my songs, that’s the most fascinating part for me and gives me the opportunity to tell my story in a different dimension. “Die Young” was for example a very important song for me and that video is one of my favorites. It’s nice to be in situations you wouldn’t normally be in, so I like to expand my art.

Besides being a gifted musician, you’re very much into fashion and already designed some beautiful pieces. Who’s your biggest fashion inspiration?

My parents are obviously my biggest influences. My dad was a huge source of inspiration when I grew up and I’ve always worn weird things to school like heels, platforms, pants with stains on the leg, … I’ve always would kind of made fun about it but my dad always taught me to be myself. Some of my biggest influences style wise are Cher, The Cramps, Iggy Pop, and a lot of my friends now. My friends are so inspiring to me and we make things for each other.

Your merch line Deadly Doll has quite a rock ‘n roll vibe. Was there a specific fashion era that inspired the illustrations on the clothes?

Old horror movie posters and erotic comic book art like fumetti from the 60s and 70s.

Why do you think that Deadly Doll represents you as an artist/person?

Deadly Doll is a community. The best part of making things, for me, has always been seeing it on someone. The song “Deadly Doll” was one of the first songs I ever wrote that felt like I was being myself, fearlessly. I want everyone to feel that way. I want to make a place where there are no rules. Everyone is welcome. That’s why I put my lyrics on everything …because writing music is when I feel the most free.

The definition of music consumption has changed over the past years. How did you witness the evolution?

In a way, I think that it has its advantages and disadvantages. We’ve all been at home and I was able to share my art on my socials and website. It’s somehow beautiful that you’re able to connect with people when we can’t really see people. There’s also a dark side to it because it’s so immediate and people don’t have the same attention span. It’s beautiful not to rush even though things are so immediate.

Will 2021 be the year where you release your first album?

Yes, I’m so excited to release my debut album this year. I’m so glad that I’ve been waiting this long to share it with everybody. Some of the songs were written a while ago, while others were written during quarantine but they all mean the most to me and I hope everyone will like them.

[az3422]

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PeppersGhost's Proposal, I guess.

K/O Failure Scenario Hub » SPC-001 » PeppersGhost's Proposal, I guess.

rating: +263+–X

You are now connected.

[13:04] Topic is "Fuck credentials, fuck passwords, fuck secrecy, fuck everything. Just, fuck in general. Fuck like it's the end of the world, because it is. Fuck me, please oh lord im so alone | Welcome! If you're still alive to read this, good luck finding someone to talk to."

[13:04] DrTsega: Hello? Anyone here?

[19:32] DrTsega: I'll take that as a no, then.

[22:48] DrTsega: I can't be the only one left.

[22:49] DrTsega: Hey Queg, are you still running?

[22:49] Queg: Hello, DrTsega. What can I do for you?

[22:49] DrTsega: thank god

[22:50] DrTsega: !backscroll 10

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] SgtYitay: I've looked through the entire building

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] SgtYitay: Everyone is dead

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] AgentCaleb: No shit

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] AgentCaleb: I know nobody uses this thing anyway but DAMN it's been EMPTY

[22:50] Queg: [04:34] AgentCaleb: You think it's just the two of us?

[22:50] Queg: [04:37] AgentCaleb: You still there

[22:50] Queg: [04:39] AgentCaleb: Saaarrrrge

[22:50] Queg: [04:50] SgtYitay has been disconnected (Ping timeout)

[22:50] Queg: [18:22] AgentCaleb: oooookay well i think im gonna call it quits then. If anyone sees this tell my husband I love him

[22:50] Queg: [18:22] AgentCaleb: lol jk i'll see that dogfaced whore in hell 👍🕶👍

[22:51] DrTsega: hmm

[22:52] DrTsega: !seen Agent Caleb

[22:52] Queg: AgentCaleb was last seen 8 days ago saying: lol jk i'll see that dogfaced whore in hell 👍🕶👍

[22:52] DrTsega: shit

[22:53] DrTsega: shitballs

[22:53] DrTsega: shitmonkeys

[22:55] DrTsega: shit the nail on the head

[22:55] DrTsega: okay

[11:16] DrTsega: Good morning. If anyone sees this just ping me, I'll stay around as long as I can.

[09:48] DrTsega: I'm still here

[14:26] DrTsega: !quote CaptSumner

[14:26] Queg: CaptSumner: I may be shitting out of my pee parts but FUCK YOU I will WALK IT OFF

[14:26] DrTsega: haha what

[14:27] DrTsega: Good times, good times.

[14:28] DrTsega: I wish Sumner wasn't lying dead in the bathroom

[14:29] DrTsega: or anywhere, for that matter

[14:33] DrTsega: but especially the bathroom

[08:01] DrTsega: I'm still here

[12:55] DrTsega: Man, if anyone sees this later I'm going to look really pitiful

[05:51] DrTsega: okay I can't sleep so I guess I might as well do this

[05:52] DrTsega: !settopic Check the backscroll. Look for "Start here"

[05:52] Topic is "Check the backscroll. Look for "Start here""

[05:52] DrTsega: Start here

[05:53] DrTsega: If you're still alive to read this, congratulations. You survived.

[05:54] DrTsega: You also have access to working internet and enough knowledge about shadow governments to visit a (previously) private communications channel, so, hey, good on you.

[05:55] DrTsega: As a reward for being such a cool and alive person, I'm going to tell you the story of how we ended the world.

[05:55] DrTsega: For context, though, you'll probably want to start by reading a certain document…

[05:56] DrTsega: Actually, you can probably just skim it. A lot of this won't make sense to you anyway, so who cares?

[05:57] DrTsega: Anyway. I'll go find the link. If memory serves, they declassified everything when they realized we were all gonna die.

[06:13] DrTsega: How are these servers even still up? Isn't that just the craziest thing

[08:22] DrTsega: Found it.

NOTICE FROM THE CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE COORDINATION

AND PROJECTS OPERATION COMMAND OFFICE

There is nothing new to report regarding SPC-001 at this time.

Test subject displaying the results of his exposure to SPC-001.

Project #: SPC-001

Selachian Pugnātorial Capabilities: Individuals enhanced with SPC-001 display a dramatic improvement in pugilistic prowess and have consistently proven capable of easily dispatching 90% of squaloid entities in simulations, even with no prior training. Furthermore, SPC-001 subjects have reported a radical elevation in coastal requiescence position retention, even when under assault from extragranular sedimentary weaponry.

Project Components: SPC-001 is a manmade chemical substance which augments the biological strength and dexterity of human beings. After initial exposure to SPC-001, subjects will undergo a steady increase in muscle mass over the following 72 hours, accompanied by heightened energy levels and adroit perception of their surroundings. Increased lung capacity and resistance to deep-sea hydrostatic pressure are common side effects.

Following the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION and the subsequent activation of the ALL HANDS ON DECK PROTOCOL, SPC agents embedded in the food industry began introducing discreet amounts of SPC-001 into numerous products intended for public consumption. Centre researchers have projected a full global saturation of SPC-001 to be achieved by the year ████. In the event that the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION ends before global saturation can be achieved, more aggressive means of SPC-001 dispersal may be undertaken to prevent a complete End-of-World K/O Failure Scenario.

Nascency Impetus: On May 16, ████, all observed selachian entities across the globe simultaneously demanifested, including those in SPC captivity. No selachian entities or evidence of the continued presence of selachian entities have been observed since. A Maximum State of Emergency was declared soon after by the Executive Pugilist Assembly and the phenomenon was codified as the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION. It is the belief of the Assembly that the selachians are congregating in preparation for the FINAL CONFLICT, an event foretold by Elder Pugilord Azmanititas in the Centre's original constitutional documents in 1451.

[08:23] DrTsega: Did you get all that?

[08:23] DrTsega: No? Okay, I'll break it down for you.

[08:26] DrTsega: I was part of a group known as the Selachian Punching Centre. An organization dedicated to fighting the menace that plagued our oceans. "We punch underwater so you can live on the land." That's what we used to say.

[08:27] DrTsega: I know what you're thinking.

[08:29] DrTsega: Yes. It was us keeping you safe the entire time. The Centre safeguarded mankind for centuries. Civilization as we knew it wouldn't have been possible if we weren't around. Our influence was unparalleled, extending to every level of every government, changing the course of world events, yet remaining a complete secret from everybody, which was really quite tricky.

Then, one day, the selachian menace disappeared. Our immediate reaction was one of disbelief, followed by euphoria, followed by raucous celebration. We danced. We drank ourselves stupid. We sang the songs of our forefathers. The orgies weren't officially sanctioned, of course, but boy howdy-doo were they tremendous.

Sadly, our revelry wasn't meant to last.

"DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION", the Assembly called it. The prophesied gathering of every selachian, big or small. Every sharp, slimy, putrid horror that haunted our dreams, coming together in one place to bring about the end of all other life on our beautiful, green planet.

"But fear not," said our trusted Assembly. They told us that the human race would fight back. They said that when the selachians returned with their armies and squaloid murder-drones, we would be ready.

And they were right. We were ready. Thanks to SPC-001, we managed to get the entire human race fighting fit. At first people were alarmed when everyone started getting super ripped for no apparent reason, but then they realized it was awesome and the panic died down. Within a few months, every man, woman, and child was a lean, mean, punching machine. Even babies had abs you could wash your clothes on. It seemed like everything was going fine.

And that's how it went for the first couple of years: fine. Sure, boxing had to be outlawed once folks could punch with the same Newtonian force as your average car crash, and there were a few riots now and then over tank top shortages, but for the most part everything felt normal.

Year three, people started getting antsy. We had kept ourselves busy at the Centre by devising new weapons for selachian warfare, but every innovation felt hollow with a lack of anything to use them on. We grew listless. Surely the assault would begin any day, right?

Year four. There was an aura of dread hanging over the whole organization. I remember sitting in the Site-71 cafeteria, eating pickled cabbage and creamed corn salads with my comrades, when I finally heard someone ask aloud what we'd all wondered in the dark corners of our heads.

"What if they don't come back?"

It was Simmons who said that, of course. Of course. I kicked him in the face—a punch would have really hurt him—but the damage was done. It's a scary thought, losing your purpose in life. Faced with that kind of existential ennui, it's no wonder that everyone responded by flipping their shit. Hersberger screamed and started smearing her salad all over her face. Gertzler stabbed his fork tines into his cheek with no visible emotion. Bühler just broke down and cried until his tears turned to blood.

But Schwartzentruber was downright fuming. Started shouting all sorts of obscenities. Said he'd shove his fist down Simmons' throat and rip out his toenails from the inside. And Simmons was all defensive, "you all were thinking it" and that kind of stuff. The two kept going at it. We shouldn't have just sat there and watched, but no one thought fists would ever get involved. How could we have known?

I remember the entire cafeteria going silent. One moment, the two colleagues had been arguing. Next thing we knew, Schwartzentruber was wearing Simmons' face around his arm like a bracelet. Fist went straight through. Nobody knew what to say. Hersberger just picked the brain matter from her hair. There was no finishing our dinner after something like that.

We all tried to write it off as an isolated incident, an unhinged employee who forgot his own strength in a moment of pure emotion. That illusion was shattered when reports started coming in from the other sites. Similar incidents were happening all over the world, and within a few weeks it wasn't just limited to SPC personnel. These arms were made for punching, and that's just what they did.

As time went on, it became harder for us to fight the itch. Punching bags were laughable at that point, so instead we invented punching blocks out of a titanium-concrete composite. Even fashioned them into the shape of selachians to help take the pain away, but it still wasn’t enough. Whenever we came close to a cure, someone would end up atomizing the equipment with a flick of the wrist and we'd have to start over.

Eventually, one day I walked into the cafeteria and found the floor covered in what must have been two inches of blood. I thought maybe a pipe had burst until I saw Bühler sitting on a table in the corner. Guy was slathered in viscera from top to bottom, and he was wearing human heads around his arms like they were snap bracelets. I asked if he wanted to talk, but he didn't answer. He just stared at his fists and trembled. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was dead, hole in his beefy chest so big I coulda driven my Grampy's Volvo through it.

That was what broke me, I think. I had never seen someone self-pugilate before. I didn't know how many people were still alive in Site-71, but I knew that I would not perpetuate the carnage. I gathered some medical supplies from the surgical augmentations lab and tied a tourniquet around my burgeoning, well-defined bicep. Carefully, I injected myself with the nearest substance that resembled an anesthetic and bid my guns goodbye.

Screaming, writhing, I hacked off my arm using only a pair of rusty toenail clippers. Needless to say, I was dizzy from pain, blood loss, and the 5 CCs of green apple daiquiri I'd injected myself with, but somehow I managed to drag myself back to the cafeteria to cauterize my stump in the kitchen's oven. Barely clinging to consciousness, I set the oven to preheat, wrapped my stump in a tent of foil, and stuck it inside, turning regularly to promote an even cauter and applying a light baste to keep it moist.

When the bleeding stopped, I went back and repeated the process with my other arm. The second time was harder, I think. With no free hands remaining, I was forced to grip the toenail clippers with my teeth. I also ran out of baste. It was the most agonizing experience I could ever possibly fathom, but here I am. Alive. My cannonball deltoids still ripple with pugilistic vigor now and then, but the stubs are too short to be lethal.

And that's it. That's my story. That's how I ended up here, barricaded alone in an underground facility, typing on a keyboard with my tongue. I haven't been able to get in touch with any other Centre sites, and I can't leave the building. Every day I lose a little more hope. My personal hygiene has suffered, too—partly because I can't look at a pair of clippers without bursting into tears. My toenails are getting really long now. I'll probably have to use a pair of scissors or something. I could even use that electric carving knife I got for my birthday. Hell, I think there's a chainsaw in the supply closet. No shortage of options, really.

Even if I'm alive now, there's no telling how long that will last. Sometimes I hear people punching on the reinforced doors, desperate to break in and claim another victim to slake their drunken punchlust. Someday they may succeed. There's enough food left around to keep me going a while, though just for a while. I've kept my mind occupied and my spirits up by watching Dr. Cavender's Walking Dead box sets, but I can feel that post-Season-Six quality drop looming just around the corner.

Maybe this was their plan all along. Maybe they just left the planet, knowing full well we'd destroy ourselves. Maybe when the last human has passed their final breath, the selachians will return from wherever they went and feast on our tight, sculpted corpses. Or maybe they're happier where they are now. Maybe they're not coming back. I hope that's not the case. As much as it pains me to say it: I miss them.

I miss sharks.

[23:19] DrTsega: With all the squats I've been doing, I could probably pop their heads between my fucking thighs.

[23:20] DrTsega: pop 'em just like cherries. hell yeah

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[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #452

Top Ten Monsters from Children’s Media

It's Halloween! Literally today! Did you notice? I think it's been a little bit less omnipresent this year, but maybe that's because I've not been going round the shops as much. It's inadvisable to go trick-or-treating so that kinda takes a bit of the excitement out of the equation too. But you can still buy pumpkins and sweets and watch The Nightmare Before Christmas with the kids, so it’s not a total wash-out. And I love Halloween, so I’ll always try to make the bare minimumest of efforts; our Halloween is being a bit weird regardless, but I’m determined (as of writing) to give them a nice, indoorsy find-the-candy activity, as well as making some spooky houses and dressing up as, I dunno, Death of the Endless or Borat or Angus Deaton or whoever they’re into at the moment.

Anyway, kids and Halloween. One thing that’s quite good about kids is introducing them to films, and then gauging when they’re ready for more advanced films. So already this Spooky Season we’ve watched the original Addams Family movie (Values coming this weekend!); creepy and kooky, yeah, but one thing it lacks is a truly memorable monster. Thing? Cousin It? I guess, but one thing that kids’ films (and books, and TV…) excel at is creating terrifying monsters. And, hey, it’s Halloween! Let’s celebrate!

So what follows is a list of monsters, ghouls, and other miserables that have traumatised me in my youth, or else that I just thought were hella creepy as an adult, from all across the spectrum of children’s media. Book characters, TV characters, and lots of creatures from movies. Are they scary? Well, yes; in some cases, very much so. In others, I just hope I haven’t given my children nightmares by letting them watch Spirited Away. I mean, seriously guys: children are supposed to watch (or read) these things! Neil Gaiman, I’m looking at you, you dangerous bastard. Buttons for eyes?! For Christ’s sake.

Anyway, here we go: my favourite monsters from children’s media. Get your creep on.

Gmork (The Neverending Story, 1984): I’ve never read the book, but the big bad wolf from the movie legit terrified me as a child. Horrific, huge, a black beast with a vicious visage; he was a force of nature. Something about him made him unnatural (the fact he was a special effect?) and this added to his uncanny horror. Scarier than American Werewolf, and I saw that when I was a kid too.

The Other Mother (Coraline, Neil Gaiman, 2002): too old for this to be a childhood nightmare, she’s still unrelentingly scary; a would-be supermum with homicidal overtones, that primal fear of your carers turning on you. In reality she’s some kind of timeless creature of consumption (“the Beldam”) with supernatural powers, so yeah – scary. But really it’s the fact she has buttons for eyes that terrifies.

The Grand High Witch (The Witches, Roald Dahl, 1983): dispensing with common witchy folklore, Dahl created a coven of hideous, bald, toe-less monsters who united in a campaign to kill all children. The Grand High Witch is particularly evil and ugly, with a suitably diabolical plan; the greatest monster and most insidious villain Dahl created. She also inflicts wounds on the protagonists, which – admirably – the book’s ending does not gloss over.

The Weeping Angels (Doctor Who, from 2007): is Doctor Who a kids’ property? I have always and probably will always say yes, so I get to include these scary-ass statues. A monster who can only move when you’re not looking at it, suitably scary; but the fact it moves even if you blink? Nightmare fuel, administered straight into the veins courtesy of Stephen Moffat. Great backstory, beautiful gimmick, and a wonderful design; classic Who monstrosity.

Terror Dogs (Ghostbusters, 1984): it’s a comedy so most of its ghosts and ghouls end up being played more or less for laughs; obviously the likes of Slimer and Stay-Puft, but even Gozer isn’t really presented as scary. But the Terror Dogs are something else; meaty, hefty monsters with gruesome faces, who chase and catch our heroes. The scene where they grab Dana, arms tearing through chair upholstery, is proper horror stuff.

Wheelers (Return to Oz, 1985): another literary critter I only saw in a film, the Wheelers freaked me the eff out as a kid. Punkish rogues who tool around on unnervingly long limbs ending in tiny wheels, they’re teased by creepy graffiti in a post-apocalyptic Oz, chasing and bedevilling Dorothy. Genuinely threatening, genuinely creepy.

No-Face (Spirited Away, 2001): partly it’s the creepy visage, a ghostly body with featureless face (hence, er, “No-Face” I guess); but then he starts eating people, becoming a vast, amorphous monster, seemingly unstoppable, destroying all in his path. His subsequent redemption (of a sort) reveals shades and depths that deepens the film as a whole, but he’s still scary as all get out at the start.

The Skeksis (The Dark Crystal, 1982): a veritable tribe of hideous vulture-things, part of their unsettling nature is their scary design (all shrivelled flesh and sharp edges) and part of it is their repulsive behaviour, their regal dress shredded and filthy; they turn on each other, one-up each other, seek to undermine (or even kill!) each other. They’re just nasty, and as a kid I found them incredibly sinister.

Oogie Boogie (The Nightmare Before Christmas, 1993): in a film stuffed with monsters of various shapes and sizes, it’s a fat hessian sack who provides the true scares. A violent and threatening monster with the manner of a mob boss and a dash of New Orleans cool, he’s a literal bag full of bugs, slimy and sinister and full of malevolence. He threatens Santa, for Pete’s sake!

Constance (Monster House, 2006): another straight-up horror film for kids (even if it’s got gags and stuff), Constance is a ghost (scary!) who possesses a house. It’s a scary house for sure, and the various tricks and traps she enacts for the kids are Poltergeist-y in the extreme. There’s an interesting sadness here that might undercut the scares in the end, but for the most part the house is a big ol’ fright-fest.

Right, there we go; ten proper scary monsters that are supposed to be suitable for kids. Can you imagine it? Wheels for hands, buttons for eyes, and no friggin’ face! No wonder we’re so messed up as a species if this is what we’ve been mainlining as children.

Shame I never got round to Zelda from Terrahawks, mind.

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, NAY! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE LOVERS with the faceclaim of ASHLEY MOORE. Admin Cas: I think we can all agree that The Lovers is a difficult concept to pin down. It’s a task in itself to balance the devotion they have for The World, her world, while not sacrificing who they are at their core. But, Nay, you were certainly up to the task. There’s something so lovely about Prudence, so beautiful and admirable, but something hungry. So much of her life revolves around The World, but that does not mean that Prudence doesn’t have a story of her own to live out. I particularly enjoyed the way you likened her story unfolding to a caterpillar grows into its chrysalis; to become a butterfly or moth, either is possible. I can’t wait to see what you do with her!

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

Out-of-Character.

NAME: nay 

PRONOUNS: she / her

AGE: twenty-two

TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: gmt + 5 ; and i’d say my activity ( especially with quarantine, still ) is at a 7/10. lately, i have been trying to write every day, and that means at least a reply every day – even if posted through queue after being written on a better writing day. 

ANYTHING ELSE?: i wrote this way too quickly, because i suck at being patient and didn’t want to wait a week to turn in an app, so forgive me for the sinful typos committed in my haste! this definitely isn’t as polished as i wish it were. also? there are possibly too many insect-facts in this and if that shit squicks you, i am so sorry.

In-Character.

SKELETON: the lovers

K E Y W O R D S 

UPRIGHT: love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, choices

REVERSED: self-love, disharmony, imbalance, misalignment of values

| source: x

NAME: prudence “prue” luna lockhart

→ ETYMOLOGY ;

P R U D E N C E / “intelligence; discretion, foresight; wisdom to see what is suitable or profitable;” also one of the four cardinal virtues, "wisdom to see what is virtuous;" from Old French prudence (13th Century) and directly from Latin prudentia “a foreseeing, foresight, sagacity, practical judgment,” contraction of providentia “foresight” (see providence). Secondary sense of “wisdom” (late 14th Century) is preserved in jurisprudence.

L U N A / “the moon,” especially personified in the Roman goddess answered to Greek Selene; also, an alchemical name for “silver”; from Latin luna “moon, goddess of the moon,” from PIE *leuksna- (source, also: of Old Church Slavonic luna “moon,” Old Prussian lauxnos “stars,” Middle Irish luan “light, moon”), suffixed form of root *leuk- “light, brightness.” The luna moth (1841, American English) so-called for the crescent-shaped eye-spots on its wings.

L O C K H A R T / Scottish: of uncertain origin, probably from a Germanic personal name composed of the elements loc 'lock', 'bolt' + hard 'hardy', 'brave', 'strong'. English: occupational name for a herdsman in charge of a sheep or cattlefold, from Old English loc 'enclosure', 'fold' + hierde 'herd(er)'.

| sources: x & x

FACECLAIM: zendaya coleman ( or ashley moore or natali litvinova — in order of preference! )

AGE: three-&-twenty for zendaya / four-&-twenty for ashley or natali

→ BIRTHDATE: fantasy-equivalent of july 8th; the most cancer baby there ever was!

DETAILS: it took me forever to find a skeleton that made me feel the enduring love i’ve been searching for beyond the ability to see a story, and as it always, unfailingly, tends to happen for the rare occasion where i opt for a softer character, it caught me completely off-guard. initially, surveying the tags, i was leaning towards the skeletons of the wheel of fortune, the hierophant, the devil, the hermit – all of whom, in my opinion, are characters who have been shaped by a darkness, be it inherent or inflicted, that’s rendered them with shadows or edges. with the lovers, that’s not the case. they are tender: like a paramour’s kiss, or a bruise, or an overripe peach you can sink your fingers into. and maybe it’s my unflinching desire to subvert the stereotypical presumption of what it is to be soft, the fragility noted in their skeleton does not translate to weakness or meekness to me; i enjoy that they are both tender, and possess the ability to be chaotic, and manipulative, and impulsive and desperate and vindictive and defensive. what i love most about this particular skeleton is the sheer humanness of them.

that, and their love for THE WORLD. for a moment there, that was definitely what drew me to them; this idea of love as religion had my mind reeling like a siken poem, rhapsodising about a love so powerful, it can alter a person. this is partially because i am the most hopeful and shameless of romantics, and partially because love, its nuances, and its powers and vulnerabilities genuinely, deeply interest me. however, working my way deeper into this application-form, that changed.

it is the love that the lovers — or prue, to me, now — holds for THE WORLD is one that attracted me. it is her own potential for growth that’s kept me in her clutches, besotted, wishing to tell her story. hers is a tale, i believe, of metamorphosis: a question i posed in a later section, as well as what lurks in my mind, is whether that metamorphosis is one that leads to a moth or a butterfly. did you know it is moths who come from cocoons, but butterflies who come from a chrysalis? moths, who are drawn to light. butterflies, who drink nectar, also help spread the seeds to grow more of the flowers. both which come from a caterpillar, whose first meal is typically the egg they come from. what i enjoy is the ambivalence that presents itself — or, as i like to call it: potential. there are several directions that prue’s story could go in, several choices that could define her, and it’s all up in the air until it isn’t anymore.

i wish i could tell you that my EUREKA! moment wasn’t insect-research, but i can’t, because that would be a lie. i’m not even sorry. 

BACKGROUND: 

☉ CONTENT WARNING(s): infant death, stillbirth, body horror imagery, insects

come, dear reader, won’t you settle in? let me spin you a tale—a tangled web of one, indeed—about a girl who smells sweet as white roses and is as satiny to touch as her gossamer-thin garments. this girl is just a girl; she has never been the girl. even so, this story is her story, and though she is not equipped to be the heroine of a story, or so she believes, she is the heart of this one. like a heart, she is swollen with the fullness of blood: thus, let me etch this tale into parchment with the blood of love, in crimson-ink of metallic-reek. 

it comes in three parts: a beginning, a middle, an ending; it is for you, dear reader, to decide which is which. 

let us anoint this tale the title of METAMORPHOSIS –

✧✧✧

i. THE EGG ;

before there is the girl, there is a man and a woman who live in faerûn by the sahrnian sea, bound together by a contract that is decidedly not the forest-fire love faerie-tales herald. yet that is not to say that love never comes, just because love comes after. when it does, it is a calm love, a steady one; a love that has never cost one to lose one’s mind, and has been grown, meticulously, over the passage of time and the trials and tribulations have littered the path of a match made by those who are older and have witnessed so much more life than them. it is not for years that the woman feels nature stirring within her body’s vessel, and when it does, it is with the undying bestowing upon her a gift that makes up lost time. 

when the girl comes, she comes from a belly more full than most. it makes sense that it is so, for there were meant to be two of them: a boy, and a girl. one might suppose that, in the end, there still were, yet only one in the way it mattered. 

( you decide, dear reader: which is which? ) 

she is born — and it is days, and days, before her time. no matter, a name still awaits her. prudence, they call her. pierce, he would have been.

from the beginning, she emerges from the ruddy cave of her mother’s womb incomplete. a greyish pallor remains where life ought to be warming her skin; it is as if he leeched enough life from her for him to choke on, and she siphoned her brother’s death through the connection only womb-mates share – and this is what she will hear in later years, when she asks about him. 

she will wish she hadn’t.

✧✧✧

ii. THE CATERPILLAR ;

( when you feel unforgiving, dear reader, remember: it is a caterpillar’s job to eat; without an abundance of consumption, it cannot survive. it is this abundance of consumption that allows for the production of silk. it is this same abundance of consumption that is its undoing. )

years do not care if one is ready to bear them; they come, when they must, as they must. and so comes to pass the childhood that tries to swallow prudence lockhart whole, over and over and over –

as an infant, blood is filtered out of her body and fresh blood poured into her veins. it helps, some. it does not help enough, yet there is nothing more to be done; her parents must take her home, and pray to the undying god for the rest. they pray, and pray, and pray, as two people of noble blood and lucrative business-dealings rarely stoop to, for lack of need to need it.

as a child, prue is still a frail slip of a thing, with bones jutting out against taut bronze flesh in protest. fill yourself up, her mother pleads. you must survive, beloved. she offers her savory meals and sweet decadence twice, and anything she takes a suggestion of a liking to just as many times more — and it works; it takes time, but work it does, and prue’s cheeks round some and at times flush rosily, some weakness giving way to the minute miracles that are her tardy signs of life. it is not much, but it is enough, isn’t it? it is to the mother who has warred for her existence. who still combats for prue’s survival. 

when does the girl begin to feel that it might be her that her mother is fighting, when every frustration about her lessness, her inherent lessness, begins to steal the breath from prue’s lungs – for is it not her who is all poetry & rot, wisp-thin & about as flimsy? her heart fills with hot, vital blood then: it beats loud and clear as a belltower’s toll, cutting through all else with the potency of its truth. this is as much as i am, she beseeches in turn, as her mother had once done, except not, for graceless tears roll down her cheeks in impassioned rivulets and the voice that thickens with feeling.

how will you survive the world, beloved? her mother implores.

i might not, prue knows. i might not, she accepts.

it is the caterpillar’s destiny to unbecome –

✧✧✧

iii. THE CHRYSALIS ;

– unbecoming takes time.

it takes long enough that both mother and daughter grow used to it, initially, and then around it, ultimately. 

there is, after-all, the distraction of warfare engrained in the backbone of their precious faerûn. there is the journey to tyrholm, the settling into the dregs of hightown – not quite lowtown-bound, and not-quite-not. it fazes her parents to not be profound upper-echelons of society; her father, a man used to running the business inherited by the men in the lockhart family, and her mother, who had spent all of her time worrying for prudence and never had to about wealth. but prue, for her part, is accustomed to the notion of not-quite-right / not-quite-enough; the feeling might not be home, per se, and yet she recognises the walls of the house all the same – could walk its rooms in the dark, if she had to.

it is circumstance that calls the lockharts to castle tyrholm. 

it tears at her parents: her father believes in not squandering opportunity, and her mother would rather squander anything but prudence. even THE EMPRESS sees it, does she not, when she cants prudence’s head and observes her fragility? the king’s reputation precedes itself; would a heart as true and innocent as hers survive a court like his? within minutes, it is too late to ponder it any longer. within minutes, it is no longer a choice, but a deal already struck. just like a match: it cannot be unstruck. one can endeavour to douse a fire, but it is not the same as un-starting it.

for a time, the castle is one more place prue does not feel she belongs; it is alright, she tells herself. you are alright, she says – because her mother is no longer by her side telling her anymore, is she? silken thread ensnares the girl when THE WORLD knocks on her door one evening; it is lilly-white, the radiance of their smile. prue does not understand why, then; she is nothing exceptional, she flounders for the right thing to do, and even then, she gets it wrong so much more often than she ever gets it right. perhaps, she will never understand why – why they are so kind, why they make her feel seen, why… 

and still, this once, there is no question of whether it is enough. they are more than enough.

for the first time in her life, prue discovers what it is to be warm.

✧✧✧

tell me, dear reader – is this a butterfly’s or moth’s metamorphosis?

PLOT IDEAS: 

❂ “love, for you, / is larger than the usual romantic love. it’s like religion. it’s terrifying.” – richard siken  

see, i told you: siken’s poetry reeling through my mind. religion is a really interesting ideology to link the notion of love to, because there are so many boundaries one crosses in the name of faith. at times, we call it the lesser evil. other times, we say it’s letting the end justify the means. we’re all trying to be holy. 

this is where i want to start discussing potential plots for prue — but i want to, first, preface it by saying that though THE WORLD is very much at the centre of her story, it is because prue’s unparalleled love for them is central to her life-story; i treat it like an experiment, where prue is the dependent variable and her love for THE WORLD is the independent variable that incites action & reaction, placed in different situations. it is, that said, the most potent of variables, and can hardly be called controlled, despite how desperately prue herself attempts to keep it to the corner-alcove they hide the truth of their love in. this love is not a selfish love; it is strong, and all-consuming, and maddening – more than a soldier’s swearing fealty to a kingdom, it is the most devout of prophets bowing their head at the altar of the divine deity they put their faith in. that’s pretty intense stuff, right? i want to see what it elicits.

this can be a double-edged sword, and in fact, i’d be rooting for it to be. on one hand, i want to explore how this love has made prue strong. i want to see how it has made her braver, and more resilient. i want to explore that she took THE EMPRESS deeming her fragile-seeming, and how she’s donned it as armour, because it is that same delicacy that has made THE WORLD love them. i want to explore it through interactions with the royal family foremost — THE WORLD, of course, but THE EMPRESS, THE EMPEROR, THE CHARIOT, and if it works out, maybe even septimus himself. it’s rare for prue to not let things slip, and roll off her back, but that is when it comes to her. her love for THE WORLD makes her want to protect them, fiercely; it lights a fire in her soul that has never been lit before. and fire? yes, it warms – but oh, it burns, too, doesn’t it? it has the power to ruin. and i don’t want to limit that exploration to just the royal family; i want to explore it with the animosity-potential between her and TEMPERANCE as well, but that’s one plot i’ll talk more about further down. 

there are little ideas floating around in my head that i would love to explore with the respective players, but i could imagine a friendship between prue ( probably due to her sweet-tooth luring her, too often, to the kitchens ) with THE HANGED MAN – and to explore a bond, that could further be complicated, potentially, by prue not being able to talk about what she and THE WORLD share. or, more chaotically: for her to share it, and for THE HANGED MAN to let it slip to THE DEVIL? how far would prue go to protect this? and would she, if it presented the opportunity for the future where she and her love get to be together is pushed closer by it? how selfless is her love? how powerful would fear be against it?

i’m honestly just a firm believer that, when our backs are against the wall, that’s when we find out who we really are. and that’s the main storyline i want to explore with prue, more than anything else, because i think that she has never been pushed to that edge and, because of it, she’s never copped up to her own identity. she met and fell in love with THE WORLD at such a young age, so quickly and wholly, that it has shaped so much of what her ideal self is. i want to see how her ideal self would differ from the reality of her. and i want to see her confront it.

❂ “you are going to break your promise. i understand. and i hold my hands over the ears of my heart, so that i will not hate you.” – catherynne m. valente

very recently, someone put forth an idea to me: love is a promise. that’s what i want to talk about here. there’s a sense i got — both from the lovers’ skeleton, and THE WORLD’s — that both of them know that there is a time-limit on their relationship. or, at the very least, whatever room there is for prue in their future, it isn’t a room where they share the bed. but i also get a sense that they know it, and neither of them talk about it. i think a part of prue feels like the amount of good that THE WORLD has brought her will last her a lifetime, and i think that isn’t true, so much as she’s hoping it is? i want to see the two of them talk about it. i want to see prue wanting them to fight her love. i want prue to admit she wants to be chosen over duty, or a marriage with someone who isn’t her, or fear, and i want to see what something like that would do to their relationship. or hell, i want someone who has power over THE WORLD, like THE EMPEROR, or THE EMPRESS, or THE CHARIOT or THE HIGH PRIESTESS to find out about the true nature of their relationship and force that choice once they even start talking about, so the situation can force their hands even if they don’t force one another’s.

there’s so much between the two of them i want to dissect and play with, it apparently needed to separate quotations. oops?

❂ “all things truly wicked start from innocence.” – ernest hemingway 

we all have the occasional ( or perhaps more, no judgement! ) propensity for wickedness. i feel really passionately about softer people not being safe from cravings for chaotic behaviour, even if they might, in prue’s case, justify it through the innocence of intention. a lot of her initial effusion is of a heady amalgamation of sweetness and delicacy; i want to see her display a dash of something that takes leave from that, and surprises even herself. now, though not at all set-in-stone and totally up to be discussed with the respective player, i could easily see it rearing its head in the dynamic between herself and TEMPERANCE. how many times will she be shooed away from a room with a beautiful woman and the love of prue’s life? it terrifies prue, the idea that THE WORLD will slip out of her fingers like the sands of time, so much sooner than she is ready for. i’m curious: would there be a moment where she would not leave? where she would make the nature of their relationship known? would she ever snap back, or continue to smile tenderly, bow her head, and listen?

i’m also dying to explore the potential plot brewing between the lovers and DEATH. part of this is a total shot in the dark, so bear with me, but – imagine this: there is a darkness in them that tugs at the darkness in her; they are hungry, and she is a starving-thing, and what a pairing they could make. imagine prue venturing into lowtown with them, and for the alternative reality DEATH’s hunger dangles that could open a door to an actual future with THE WORLD? i want there to be temptation — towards darkness and chaos, yes, because i am a sucker for moral ambiguity, but also for the loyalist that prue is to be lured by the revolt. 

❂ “you cut up a thing that’s alive and beautiful to find out how it’s alive and why it’s beautiful, and before you know it, it’s neither of those things, and you’re standing there with blood on your face and tears in your sight and only the terrible ache of guilt to show for it.” – clive barker

it is difficult for even me, as i delve into prue’s psyche, to be a wordsmith adept enough to encapsulate the sheer magnitude of her love for her lover. let me tell you this, though: it is love that is devout enough that prue would sacrifice herself before it. she would shirk what she believes she knows of herself to fight for THE WORLD. but there is little in the universe free of the shackles of consequence. it feels inevitable to me that, at some point, sooner or later, prue will commit an action or reaction in the name of love — and then, she will have to live with it. it’s even better to me for her to go beyond her limits for this love that is everything to her, and then find herself turning to them to sacrifice for her as freely as she does them… and for them to, perhaps, not be able to. or perhaps, for it to turn prue into a person she herself can no longer recognise. there was a part of me that wanted to already cook something up, and to toss it into the writing sample portion, but i decided otherwise. if i get to write this character, i want to start in a place that is different, and develop my way towards a darker pasture, so to speak.

a darker pasture, however, is where i want her to at least visit. in a setting such as this one, i don’t think it can be helped, truthfully.

❂ “each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.” – anaïs nin

while i was trying to knit this application together into one whole piece, a recurring concern for me has been that i want this character to have its own story, and the lines of that can get awfully blurry when the character is one the feels as intensely as prue lockhart does. she is such a hypersensitive creature; more than anything, it is her interactions that penetrate her, and alter her, and cause the discord between the sides that are wont to tug at her, who stands in the most Lawful Neutral of spots. i’ve decided to lean into it, though, because i genuinely believe that it poses an intriguing dichotomy between her inherent nature and the nurture that moulds it beyond the obvious, magnitudinal parental hand in it. that said, there are actual several different potential connections i want to toy with here. ( one of which is THE HANGED MAN, but i already mentioned that above, and didn’t want to be repetitive! )

THE MAGICIAN / listen, prue is so used to being the Softest. but this little baby is even softer than her, and every time they flinch, she just wants to help. she tries, at every turn, to be kind and i really want to see her become a friend / confidant for them? maybe learn about their magic. to maybe give them a secret of her own back ;) gal pals, gimme. i need something wholesome; it can’t all be agony & ecstasy, god damn it.

WHEEL OF FORTUNE / it is pure coincidence that throws the two of them together as often as it does. but prue is the sort to believe the best in people, and is never too arrogant to admit where she’s been wrong. this bond is where her feelings towards magic first begins to see development, and i am so, so, so interested in toying with it. even more so when you throw in their bond with THE EMPEROR — does faze prue a little — and his relationship with THE WORLD in there. such potential for growth and drama.

DEVIL / for years, every time prue has seen them, she has walked in the other direction. otherworldliness is unnatural enough as it is, but the proof of what they can do scars them with evidence of it – and so, out of genuine fear, she’s evaded them. and yet, coincidental interactions with the WHEEL OF FORTUNE has made prue think twice. a look at the haunting in their eyes has made her think thrice. i want to play with that dynamic!!!

THE MOON / hers is the only magic that does not scare prue, i think. it is the only one she is not too intimidated to ask questions about, because she truly is extremely curious when she takes an interest in something, and a lifetime of listening in the background has given prue a taste for stories. i feel like she could bring out something adventurous and wild within prue? a part which prue never got to explore, because she grew up with a very, very cautious mother who kept a very close eye on her and treated her like glass because prue really does look fragile. i want a bond to make her feel stronger!

THE STAR / if there is one thing that prue has grown up to be, it is a true romantic. it makes him something of a kindred spirit; something in her could reach out to something in him, creating a kindred bond that makes her feel seen in a way that only THE WORLD has ever given her.

THE TOWER / because she was raised right by it, the sea is where prue feels most at home, and she always has. i could see there being something about THE TOWER’s stories making her feel warm inside, and thus, her braving a friendship with them. i think she could use the wisdom of someone older? and there’s just something about them that made prue shyly scuff her toe at the ground, like – an oliver twist moment of, “can i have more, please?”

THE FOOL / stories talk about princes and princesses. the dragon’s fire, the nobel steed. prue looks at him, and she wonders: where are the stories about them? the princess’ lover, and the king’s soldier – those who fight for the crown, without wearing it. it could make for such an unlikely bond, but such an intriguing one, i think? i got the idea, and i just could not shake it. humour me!

and 0f course, there is potential with literally every other character, too, but i honestly ran out of time before i could come up with something for them too. i’m down to flesh it out~

❂ “we grow. it hurts at first.” – sylvia plath 

at the start of her story, prue starts off as a fragile underdog. she turns blossoms into a lover, and it turns her fiercer – which is not the same thing as being fierce, but it’s a start. what i want for her — what any writer wants for their muses, i reckon — is growth. i want prue, who has grown up sheltered and protected, to experience pain and hardship. i want her experiences to call into question what she thinks she knows, flip it on its head, and make her think. i want her to think, and to change her mind, and to change it again. i want her to confront her fears, and her uncomfortable truths, and to experience all the tempestuous emotions she’s spent her entire life keeping at bay, having convinced herself they could shatter her. i want her to unearth her endurance, to test its limits. i want to explore her undoings and remakings. what i enjoy most about her is the volatility of her that most would not see coming, because volatile and tempestuous and emotional is what she is. she is all heart, all the time, everywhere. can you imagine how visceral that has to make every experience?

imagine the potential for growth if she let herself just feel all of it. if she opened herself up, and let the universe rush in, instead of walking on eggshells as she does. just imagine. that’s what i want for her.

CHARACTER DEATH: i could, of course, see prue meeting an end. in fact, there are a couple of circumstances that could make it deliciously poetic, even.

Writing Sample.

They match each other: step for step; right, then left –

Hardly anyone turns to look at the two of them anymore. The two of them, making their way down the hall, with their dark heads leaned close together, like two plants growing towards one another when the sun leaves them for too long. It might be more peculiar to see them apart. There is a strange pride that twists a corner of Prue’s mouth at the unshakeable knowledge of the fact – a hint of tremendous pride at the small, precious claim THE WORLD makes with the statement of their proximity. It is everything to her, and perhaps it is what lends to the smoothness of her gait as they move past the portrait-eyes that scrutinise it, as if they await another of the many stumbles they’ve already witnessed. Prue floats beside them.

Her heart is gone, long-since pressed into the palm of their hand. Does it weigh them down? She could pretend it is why she keeps their fingers curled into the crook of her elbow, helping them carry the heaviness of the heart she’s given away to them; Prue holds fast to that touch with her own hand covering their fingers, unwilling to give up those four pressure-points that burn her flesh through the silk of her sleeve for anything, enough to shield it with the dome of her palm.

“ – Prudence?”

Their hand flinches at the same time as Prue’s grip on their fingers tightens. As if a chill blew in, and froze the marrow in her bones, the girl stills in place. It is not because she recognises the voice. It is because she ought to have done, for what the cant of her head finds is a woman whose gaze mirrors her own: amber-warm, almond-shaped. It is her same mouth that speaks the syllables of a variation of her names that does not belong to her, not as Prue does.

“Mama –” she says, her voice so quiet, she fears it might not reach her.

She is too far away now. Even mere footsteps away, she is too far.   

Extras.

✦ INSPIRATIONS → anne shirley cuthbert – from anne of green gables; tiana – from princess & the frog; missandei of naath – from game of thrones; margaery tyrell / house tyrell – from a song of ice & fire;  madame lebedeva – from deathless; effie trinket – from the hunger games series; jack pearson – from this is us; patroclus – from the song of achilles; 

✦ INSPIRATION TAG → here;

✦ PINTEREST BOARD → here.

[jungkookienoona]

Would You Like A Taste? (M)

|Part 1|Part 2|

|Masterlist| Support Me on Ko-fi

Summary:

Jungkook has to face the consequences of his actions.

Genre: Smut, Vampire AU, Supernatural, elements of erotic horror

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Situations, Blood, slight cannibalism (it’s like a 3 sentence paragraph), Jungkook’s personality flip-flops between precious bunny and sadist.

Would You Like A Taste has taken 2 years and has been in development since before Can I Have A Taste was rewritten please show it and me some love. I love getting asks or reading tags in reblogs. And remember, my writing can’t improve without feedback.

Word Count: 6769

Jungkook snapped out of his haze when his lips met yours. What had he done? He had only given into his lust for a moment, he didn’t think it would lead into a bloodlust. He fell to his knees with you in his arms. He never wanted to hurt you. His main priority was keeping you safe. But you just had to change your regular Friday routine.

He remembered following your scent to the club; you had looked so beautiful and he couldn’t help the old feelings that crept up. How he had crushed hard on you, how he had been planning on asking you on a date. How he never got that opportunity because he got talked into going to some stupid party, where he found himself getting cornered by some chick and waking up in a ditch about a week later.

“No… No no no no! Shit!”

One of his hands stroked the hair out of your face while the other held you firm to him, your breathing growing shallower by the second. How could he fix this? Could he save you at all? His heart sank at the only option that presented itself. No. He couldn’t do that to you. But time was running out.

“Please don’t hate me Noona.” He whispered before biting down on his own wrist.

A member of staff at the club discovered your lifeless body in the alley. She shrieked drawing the attention of others in the vicinity. It wasn’t long before the police turned up.

After a few days of investigation, it was deduced that your death was due to the over-consumption of alcohol. Your family to arrange your funeral, quickly wanting you to be at peace as soon as possible. They made sure you were buried in your hometown near the graves of your ancestors. The funeral was a family event so strange looks were given to the young man dressed in a black suit who stood near the back. He watched as the members of your family went up to your open casket saying their last tearful goodbyes; waiting patiently for them all to have their turn so that he would be the last to approach. When his time finally came, he was slow to move. Guilt washed over him. He was the reason you were in there, why your family would never see you again. Upon seeing your pallored face he couldn’t hold back the need to touch you, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. You were cold.

“This was never meant to happen... It’s all my fault... I’m so sorry Noona. I’m sorry” His voice was barely louder than the deafening silence as tears ran unbidden down his cheeks, falling to his knees.

Your family watched him break down into sobs; the young man dressed in black that no one knew yet vaguely recognised.

A month passed and there was still no sign of life from you. Jungkook had been sat by your grave every night with a shovel, waiting to dig you up. But as more time passed the more he grew to doubt himself. He hadn’t been quick enough. He had drained you of too much blood. Those thoughts circled his mind for hours on end as he sat there waiting. He even wore the same black suit that he had worn to your funeral. He watched as the colours of the sky changed from navy to black and then eventually to the peach of dawn. His head hung low, accepting the fact that he had killed you, that you would not be waking up and he would not be able to beg for your forgiveness. The sun began to crest on the horizon and Jungkook picked himself off the ground. He was reaching for his shovel when he heard it. When he heard you.

You woke with a gasp, surrounded by darkness. The fuck was going on? Where were you? Last thing you remembered was getting fucked in an alley outside the club and blood red eyes. Your breathing grew rapid as you realised you couldn’t see a thing and as you wriggled in your panicked state you found you were shut in a confined space. You were so focused on yourself you didn’t hear the sound of metal scraping against dirt at an inhuman speed. But what you did notice was the sudden light that shone into, what you now realised to be, your coffin as Jungkook wrenched the lid open. His smile was almost as radiant and bright as the dawn light that haloed him.

“Noona!” He shouted in glee.

“Asshole!” You shouted back with venom.

Jungkook’s smile dropped which brought you some satisfaction. His face became serious as he placed a hand over your eyes.

“Go back to sleep Noona. Don’t worry I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

Almost as if he had cast a spell over you, you fell back into darkness.

As soon as you had called him ‘asshole’ Jungkook knew you would struggle against him. It would be much easier to carry an unconscious you than a kicking and scratching you. So, he did the first thing that came to mind. He used his creator bond to knock you out.

The second time you woke up, you were on a plush sofa in a large living room. You sat up, taking in your surroundings. The sofa you were on was pink and Victorian-esque while the walls were teal and were decorated with what appeared to be family photos. Your curiosity got the better of you. You got off the sofa, walking up to the pictures. The first one that caught your eye was a group picture. Jungkook was in the centre, awkwardly smiling with six older looking boys surrounding him. Two of them had a hand on his shoulders, a guy with purple hair and a brunette. That wasn’t the only group picture of them either, nearly every picture on the wall was one. Except for six of them. In the six remaining pictures, each boy other than Jungkook was paired up with what appeared to be their significant other. You almost felt bad for him. Until you remembered what he had done to you. Anger flowed fresh through your veins once more.

“Yah! Jungkook-ah! Where are you?” You took another look around, “What the fuck is this place?!”

You heard footsteps approaching after. From the sounds of it they were coming from above you then down a staircase and when they stopped a sheepish Jungkook poked his head through the door. He had finally changed his clothes for the first time in a month. Not that you would’ve known. He was now wearing a form fitting white top that had a few holes here and there with three-quarter-length sleeves, and a pair of leather trousers that clung to his muscular legs like they were painted on. It appeared he had decided to forgo wearing shoes.

“You’re awake again.”

“No shit Sherlock; now tell me where I am.”

“We’re in my  family’s home.”

“Family?” Confusion was evident in your tone.

“Pop culture would call us a ‘coven’ but thanks to Twilight, we hate that word.”

Well... that explained nothing to you. You saw him take a step towards and instinctively took a step back. His features looked pained at your action.

“Please... Noona... don’t be afraid of me.”

Don’t be afraid of him? After what he had done to you? Did he really think he could get away with it?

“YOU KILLED ME!”

You noticed a newspaper, the front page had a picture of you smiling and the title read ‘Girl found dead in alley by female bartender’. A bit of a long-winded title that gave away the entire story of the article and it seemed a bit strange that there happened to be a newspaper with what happened to you on its front cover in the room; but it helped you to know what had happened.

“You left me in an alley to be found by a bartender?! The poor girl is probably traumatised!” Your voice portrayed how scandalised you felt at having been left there like that.

“I left you there for you own good! At least you got found.”

“I DIED! You should’ve taken me to a hospital!”

“It was too late, Noona. I didn’t have time. I had no choice but to turn yo-”

“Don’t try and reason your way out of this-”

“Y/N, please listen to me-”

“If you say that you did this for my own good, I swear I will-”

“I KILLED YOU. I was selfish. I drained you of your blood and this was the only way…” His fists were clenched as his voice strained with emotion at first before quieting down to a barely heard whisper, tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. “I lost control. I wanted you so bad and you felt so good… It brought up a hunger for you I didn’t know I had.”

You diverted your gaze, taking another step back when he reached for you.

“Kookie…”

His eyes widened, the nickname striking a cord, “Kookie?”

You shuffled from foot to foot.

“Jungkook…”

He stepped closer and you stepped back; your back coming into contact with a wooden side table causing a vase of flowers to wobble and fall. He caught it, placing it back on the surface but not retracting his hand from beside you. You were pinned in.

“Noona, please. You have to understand.”

“How could I possibly understand?! You disappeared! Do you know how many nights I stayed up crying when you vanished? Then you suddenly reappeared years later looking almost unrecognisable! You killed me on something less than a whim!”

You pushed his chest, Jungkook stumbled backwards at the force.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Noona…”

He reached for you again and you stumbled to the side, knees giving out. He was there, catching you before you fell with his arms around your waist as you both sunk to the floor. Your head was tucked against his chest and at first, he thought you had passed out until he heard a sniffle. He brushed a hand over your forehead, pushing back your fringe.

“You cried when I was gone? I thought you wouldn’t have cared.”

“Of course I cared. You were the sweet dongsaeng that kept sneaking snacks and vitamins into my bag when you thought I wasn’t looking while I was studying in the library.”

He was silent for a moment, hand carding through your hair,

“I was planning to ask you out before I was turned. But I went to a party, I was turned under similar circumstances to you… just without the sex.” He let out a soft chuckle at the last part.

You snorted, “Definitely wasn’t expecting to be shoved up against a wall and fucked by a vampire who just so happened to be my middle school crush.”

You felt his hand still, “I-I was your crush?”

Your cheeks grew warmer.

“Uh… surprise?”

He laughed to himself, nuzzling his nose into your hair, “I should’ve asked you out sooner. I’m so stupid.”

There was a pause in the conversation as you took a moment to think about how you would word what you wanted to say next.

“How long was I dead for?”

“A month. I almost lost hope. But at least you had a funeral; which I attended by the way, accidentally made quite the scene too. When I was turned I woke up in a ditch on a country road. I was lucky to have been found wandering lost and confused by Namjoon before I could attack someone.”

You finally looked up at him, your gaze meeting his as you realised that even though he was the one that killed you, he had at least shown some remorse and tried to give you a better start in your unlife than he had had. Even if that did mean leaving your body in an alley.

“The person that turned you… did you ever see them again?”

A grimace appeared on his lips as his eyes hazed over in memory, “I killed her about 2 months after I woke up, with the rest of my new family’s help. We had to wait for the creator bond to wear off before I could confront her but the other members kept tabs on where she was. Turns out she was considered a criminal in the vampire world.” He saw your puzzled look. “There’s a limit on how many we are allowed to turn, to keep our numbers in check. But she went way over the limit, basically turning anyone she bit. So my revenge was not looked down upon, I was getting rid of a pest.”

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of Jungkook being able to murder in cold blood. At least your death was more or less an accident on his part. But his creator’s death was premeditated. That wasn’t the Kookie you knew. Almost as if he could sense the fear that was making itself known to you again he pulled you closer to him in an attempted to comfort you.

“I was angry, Noona, much like you were- are. I had my life snatched away from me. My future was gone. I couldn’t see my family, friends or you again. I think that’s the thing that angered me most actually. That she had stolen my opportunity to ask you on a date. Even if it turns out you would’ve rejected me, I had wanted that opportunity to see if my feelings were returned.”

He had shifted you a bit while he was talking so that he could nuzzled into your neck and take in your scent, almost like he was trying to use it to soothe himself as shadows of his hatred towards his creator returned.

“You mentioned a ‘creator bond’. What is it that exactly?”

He hesitated for a second then leaned back to look at you again.

“It’s a type of… control that allows creators to control their creations for a month after they wake. It’s how I got you to fall back to sleep.”

Your eyes widened in alarm knowing that he could take away your free will at any moment, that he had already done so once. He felt you tense.

“I promise to use it as a last resort. Like if you present yourself as a danger.”

“How can I trust you not to abuse that power?”

“Because I never wanted this for you… I love you, always have. It’s never faded. But after what I’ve done to you I don’t blame you for distrusting me… If it will make you feel more comfortable I could ask one of the members’ mates to look after you for the first month? They live next door.”

You found yourself confused again. So much so it over rid your fear. Mates? These ‘mates’ living next door?

“What are mates?”

He smiled fondly at you, you felt his grip on you tighten slightly.

“‘Mates’ is short for soulmate. You know, people we’re destined to be with. Most mates are turned by the other. Though that wasn’t the case for Jin-hyung. He said that he met his mate a couple centuries ago because she was following him. He confronted her and, apparently, she had told him she couldn’t help herself, he was just too handsome.”

You laughed. You didn’t know who this Jin was but you laughed. Because from Jungkook’s tone of voice, he didn’t believe Jin’s story. You were somewhat surprised at how short lived your anger towards him was, being replaced by curiosity instead as he explained aspects of the life you would now be living.

“If you’re destined to be with them, why do you live separately?”

“Yoongi-hyung told me it was ‘to stop an eternity together from getting boring’. And though we’re one big family, we all like to have our alone time at points. You can’t exactly have that when sharing a room.”

“You said I could live with them if I wanted to. Implying that it would be fine if I decide I want to stay here with you. Why is it fine that I stay?”

He chuckled, finding your inquisitiveness cute.

“Because you’re unmated. And you’re the newbie. It just coincidence that all the females decided to live together. We would be totally okay with co-ed housing.”

“Oh… how does someone get a mate?”

One of his arms let go of you, his free hand coming up to awkwardly scratch that back of his neck, red dusting his cheeks. You realised that he was giving you what could be considered Vampire Sex Ed.

“Well first, you have to be a vampire. Then, uh, then… then you need to um… do the do…” You giggled at his awkwardness, this was the Kookie you knew. “When doing the do… uh I mean… when you’re nearing your finish… you and your partner need to b-b-bite each other and take in some of their blood. It creates a mating bond that leaves a permanent mark on the area you were bitten.”

As Jungkook described how vampires become mates you couldn’t help but think back to how you died. He had bitten you as he came. Something in your head clicked as the two pieces of information came together.

“K-K-Kookie… I think you tried to mate with me-”

“What?!”

You saw emotions flicker across his face. First confusion, then understanding, then embarrassment.

“Oh god.” His forehead came to rest on your shoulder as he came to realise that you were probably correct. The actions of that night matching up to the actions he had just described. “Lord kill me now.”

“Where would the fun be in that? I think you should continue living so you can look at me and forever be reminded that you tried to mate a non-vampire. Live with the shame.”

“Noona~!” He howled in humiliation, his face moving from your shoulder to your neck as if doing so could help him vanish into thin air. You had to stop yourself from shivering at the feel of his breath on your skin.

“Did your hyungs not educate you well enough?”

At that he lifted his head to look at you again, looking almost scandalised that you would try and place some of the blame on his hyungs. Then a playful glare made its way onto his features.

“They did. But I think I just love you so much I temporarily lost all rationality. You looked fucking hot that night Noona. Like damn.”

A thought came to mind.

“Jungkook, you ripped off my panties that night. Please tell me I was found wearing underwear.”

“Does it look like I carry a spare pair of panties in my pocket?”

“You could have given me your own.”

“I was commando, Noona, you know that! You saw!”

“I’m sorry if my memory is a bit foggy I was DEAD for a MONTH!”

At that reminder, his face fell a little, he gaze turning away from you as he scratched the back of his neck again.

“I went back to yours and grabbed a pair before rushing back to you. So, yes, you were found wearing underwear.” A small smile graced his lips at the thought of having done something right.

You couldn’t help but stare at him as he smiled, you brain noticing how much he had changed, physically. When you had last saw him, human him, he was a sweet 14-year-old with puppy fat, wide eyes and an emo style hair do. He had very much reminded you of a cute bunny. It was part of the reason you had had a crush on him. But now the Kookie that held you in his arms was chiselled, with a jawline as sharp as a knife. His eyes were still wide and doe-like but they held a maturity to them that hadn’t been there when he was younger. He had even had a growth spurt because you could remember him being shorter than you; now he towered over you. He was no longer a small fluffy bunny but a grown predator. It made him attractive in a different way. This observation caused a new question to bubble to your lips.

“I thought vampires didn’t age. Why don’t you look the same as you did back then?”

“A lot of my physical changes happened as a direct result of being turned. It kind of put my puberty into overdrive. When I looked at myself for the first time after being turned, I had completely missed out on maturing naturally and the person staring back at me was a full-grown adult. The clothes I had worn when I was turned were very… snug.”

Your eyes widened in shock. If he had changed after being turned, had you? Your hands flew to your face mapping out the surface of it to see if you could feel any changes. All you noticed was that your lingering acne problem had disappeared.

“Don’t worry, you still look like my beautiful Noona.”

You blushed.

“You still haven’t told me if you want to spend your first month here or in the mates’ house.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I want what makes you feel most comfortable.”

You took a second to think about it before looking at him and smiling.

“I think what would make me most comfortable would be staying with familiar face.”

The smile he gave you could’ve rivalled the sun in its brightness. You felt his hand twist in the material at the base of your spine and instinctively arched into the touch. Your chest grazed his and were suddenly aware of how close you were. His eyes, slightly narrowed as he too was wrapped up in the tension, glistened in the light streaming through the parted curtains behind you. You held your breath. If you were to lean in… His head dipped, lips meeting yours tenderly, so different to the rushed hungry kisses of the night you died. You almost felt like that Jungkook and the Jungkook that held you in his arms were two different people. One was dangerous and all-consuming the other gentle and loving. He broke the kiss, pulling away to look at you with half-lidded eyes.

“I’ve missed the feel of your lips,” He breathed, eyes falling shut as he rested his forehead against yours, “I don’t expect you to forgive me easily, I know that you must resent me for what I’ve done. Nor do I expect you to love me like I do you. Knowing that you once reciprocated my feelings when I was human is enough for now.”

You felt the need to reach out to him, to comfort him. But one last thing lingered in your thoughts.

“You… On that night, you said you had been wanting me for a while, yet today you say that you never wanted to hurt me. Which one is the truth?”

“Both.”

You frowned, anger bubbling in you again but he continued speaking, not giving you the opportunity to voice it.

“After I killed my creator you were all I could think about. Were you safe? Were you healthy? Had you been accepted into that specialist highschool I had overheard you talking about every now and then in middle school? I had spent nearly every night years patrolling the area you lived in to make sure it was vampire free. There were a few incidents but they were dealt with quickly.”

He shifted the both of you so he was led on the floor with your head resting on his chest as you led beside him. One of his arms rested behind his own head while his free hand stroked your hair, the sensation soothing you causing you to relax into him.

“At the same time, I craved you. I wanted nothing more than to hold you in my arms, to hear you moan my name, to taste the salt of your skin on my tongue. I wanted to watch you wither in pleasure that only I could give. And until that night I had been successful in holding back those desires.”

You felt a faint trickle of desire spread through you at his words but couldn’t stop yourself from trying to embarrass him.

“And you ended up trying to mate me but killed me instead.”

“Obviously I didn’t realise what I was trying to do at the time.”

“Does that mean you would try to mate me again?”

“Would you be adverse to it?”

“Depends, will I die?”

“For fuck sake Noona, I just explained it all to you.” He playfully slapped your arm as a show of mock agitation, you looked up at him confused.

“Yeah, I didn’t feel that.”

“Really? I put at least some effort into that,” You nodded causing him to grin like a cheshire cat, “I made a sturdy one. I don’t have to worry about breaking you now.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Answer my question and I’ll let you know what I meant.”

You looked away from him, a light blush on your cheeks as you thought about what he had asked moments earlier. Would you be against it? He had killed you and you were still pissed about it to an extent. But at the same time you died because he was just following instinct, he didn’t mean to kill you. And if mates were people destined to be together, was it fate that Jungkook didn’t know what the fuck he was doing? That he had unknowingly tried to mate a human.

“I’m not exactly against it. Doesn’t mean I forgive you… just… the sex was good.”

“Would you like another taste?” He said, quirking an eyebrow.

You sat up, “Another taste of what?”

“Me.”

“I don’t think I have tasted you, Kook.”

“Well, I’m not wearing underwe-”

“Are you asking me to-”

“Yes.”

“You really are a master of seduction.”

Jungkook waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Don’t worry I shall teach you my ways”

“You ain’t teaching me shit”

“But Noona~!”

You straddled his lap causing him to look shook. You wiggled a bit to get comfortable accidentally creating friction over his crotch. Jungkook went from being shook to closing his eyes and moaning at your actions, hands coming up to your hips to stop you from moving so much.

“Noona, I need your answer, will you accept me as your mate? Because if you don’t want to or not ready then you need to get off me right now.”

You smirked, a plan forming in your mind, “And what would happen if I don’t move?”

“If you don’t then I’ll have you under me begging for me to mark you as mine. I’ll fuck you until your voice turns hoarse from screaming my name and my name alone. I won’t stop until you know how much I want you for myself. How much I need to have you. I’ve already gone so many years without you, I’m not willing to go a day more if I can.”

Your breathing stopped at the slight growl to his voice combined with his words. That little trickle of desire had suddenly become raging, you never knew such possessiveness could make you wet. He hadn’t even touched you. You placed your hands on his chest as your hips involuntarily ground against his growing hardness, a whimper escaping from you. You hadn’t realised your eyes had closed until a feral sound from Jungkook caused them to snap open. He grabbed the front of your dress, using it as leverage to pull you down into a heated kiss. You let out a little yelp as he flipped your positions then lightly bit your bottom lip. He trailed kisses from your lips to your neck, which he nipped and sucked at, creating small purplish marks that bloomed.

A small part of you realised that this was the Jungkook from that night. Yet you weren’t afraid. You were as welcoming of him now as you were back then. Your fingers clutched at his hair, breathing uneven. You felt his hands slip behind your back, locating the zipper of your dress and pulling it down. He sat back up and you noticed his eyes. They had gone from dark chocolate to coal black in his lust. Were your eyes the same?

“Dress. Off.” Came his gravelly voice and you were quick to comply, pulling the material up and over your head in seconds, tossing away.

He smirked at the sight of you, clearly enjoying seeing you in your underwear. A part of you wondered who had dressed you for your funeral because, honestly, when did a dead person need undies?

“Deep red suits you Noona but sadly that’s gonna need to come off too.”

You pouted, “It won’t be fair if I’m the only one naked.”

“Noona if I got undressed now this would end all too quickly. I want to savour this.” He took his top off anyway. “There. Does that make you happier?”

You hesitated, raising a hand to rest on his shoulder. It was the first time you had seen him shirtless and you marvelled at his muscular physique. Your hand moved to his bicep, giving it a light squeeze and feeling the hard flesh. Your other hand went to his pecs and travelled downwards to his abdominal muscles, feeling his breathing stutter as your fingers traced over a sensitive area just above the waistband of his leather pants.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You hummed and nodded, “I didn’t get to see you last time.”

“I didn’t really see you either. You were still wearing a dress back then.”

He grasped your waist and pulled you closer to him. His hands once again snaking up your back to undo your bra. When it came loose he tugged the material down your arms, carelessly tossing it behind him. His hand went to your shoulder, apply enough pressure for you to understand that he wanted you to lie back down. As you led back down a part of you wondered if vampires could get carpet burn.

You watched as he crawled up your body, his muscles tightened and relaxed as he moved, reminding you of a cheetah stalking its prey. He stopped once he was hovering over your form, his lips ghosting against yours as he rested his weight on his elbows either side of your head. You propped yourself up in order to capture his lips with your own, fed up with the distance that kept appearing between the two of you. One of your hands came up to grip the back of his hair so that the kiss wouldn’t break as you led back down, taking him with you. The kiss quickly growing in intensity; the naked flesh of your torsos coming into contact sending sparks of electricity through the both of you. Your other hand joined its partner in Jungkook’s hair, moaning into the kiss. Jungkook hips bucked against you at the sound, drawing another from you.

He was the one to break the kiss, eagerly kissing his way down to the tops of your heaving chest. You felt him gently run his teeth, no, his fangs over the tender flesh a moment before biting into it. There was a sharp pain at first that had your breath catching in your throat then coming out as a husky moan of pleasure. He moved away slightly, licking his lips, a cheeky grin appearing on his face.

“You’ll find that most vampires are sadomasochists. We naturally enjoy giving and receiving pain. Though if I remember correctly, you enjoyed being bitten as a human… until you realised you were dying.”

He went back to the bitemark, softly lapping at it to soothe the red area and a small moan slipped through your lips again. He chuckled, trailing his lips to your nipple and giving it a few quick teasing licks before taking the small bud into his mouth and sucking. This definitely felt way better than the quick fuck in the alleyway you had with him and he wasn’t even inside you yet. You knew he said he wanted to savour it but it was beginning to be too much, you wanted his teasing to stop. He pulled away from your nipple with a barely audible pop.

“I said I would make you beg for me Noona. I intended to do just that.”

He moved to your other breast to give it a similar treatment to the first making you keen and arch into his attentions, your hands’ grip tightening in his locks. But then he was moving again. His lips mapping your dips and curves while he travelled further down your body, every now and then biting you just hard enough to break the skin so he could lap up any of the delicious crimson that surfaced. Every piercing nip caused a burning pleasure to originate from the bleeding area.

“Does... my blood... really taste that good?” You managed to pant out. He wasn’t going to make you beg easily.

He hummed as he kissed the area he had just bitten, pulling back slightly to watch the bite mark heal and vanish, “Better than anything I’ve had before.”

A shiver ran down your spine as those red eyes from that night stared up at you. But it wasn’t fear.

“Do your eye always turn red when you taste blood?”

He smirked, “Yeah. Yours will do the same when you drink blood. In fact… I think you should know how it feels…”

He raised himself off you and shuffled forward, bringing a wrist to your lips.

“I’ll ask you what I did before. Would you like a taste?”

You hesitated. This was all new to you and quite honestly you felt as if you were thrown into the deep end. But you couldn’t deny, you felt a strong pull to bite down on the limb at your lips. So why fight against something so willingly offered? For the sake of maintaining humanity? You weren’t human anymore and it's not like humans are free from committing ‘monstrous’ acts.  Something in your gut told you to follow Jungkook’s orders.

Casting aside what reluctance you had, you allowed yourself to follow your new baser instincts. Lips parting to dig your fangs into the offered flesh. You marvelled at how easily it gave way. How the splash of life’s nectar that hit your tongue made you need more of it. Each gulp had you chasing a building high. Moans slipped out between every mouthful swallowed. In the back of your mind you registered Jungkook hitching your legs around his waist and his owns sounds of pleasure as he rutted against you. The whole act was carnal and vulgar and new. Your hips thrust upwards to meet him, making your high build quicker until, with a muffled scream, you came.

Jungkook ripped his arm from your mouth, not caring about the chunk of flesh it left behind, it would heal. He watched as you prepared to spit it out but he covered your lips with his hand.

“Swallow it, don’t want it going to waste now do we?”

Wasn’t that cannibalism? Surely Jungkook must’ve been joking. But his gaze was hard, no sign of amusement held in them. He was serious. With a shaky exhale through your nose, you chewed the meat, thrill seeping into your bones as the blood hidden inside was released, allowing you to swallow without a second though.

“Such a good Noona. Following my orders so nicely.” Jungkook cooed, caressing your cheek, “And as much as I would love to hear you beg, I’ve lost at my own game. I can’t wait any longer.”

He leant back, unravelling your legs from around him to slide your panties down your legs.

“It would be such a waste to ruin these. So I’ll just have to ruin you instead.”

“Yes Master.”

There was a beat of silence and then it dawned on you, what you had just said. Your face darkened in embarrassment, hands flying up to hide it. To hide you from your shame. Jungkook chuckled, shaking his head before focusing on your womanhood.

“My Noona has such a pretty cunt, I still remember how you tasted that night.”

You squealed when you felt his tongue lap at you slick.

“Your cum is so sweet, I would choose this over blood any day.”

You peeked from between your fingers, “D-d-don’t say things like that K-Kookie-” You cut yourself of with a cry when he sucked on you clit, two fingers working their way inside you.

“What happened to ‘Master’? I quite liked that word coming from those lovely lips of yours.”

You whined, turning your face away from the erotic view in front of you. Too embarrassed to look at him. “It-It was an a-HA-ccident.”

Jungkook paused, “Oh really? So you won’t say it again.”

You shook your head.

“Okay then, I guess I’ll stop.”

You snapped back to look at him, “Please don’t.”

He smirked up at you, “Then say it again. Call me ‘Master’.”

“P-please d-don’t stop M…. Master.”

Without wasting another second Jungkook had his tongue back on you, playing with your clit, his fingers curling you rub against your sweet spot. Hands tangled into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as your hips bucked up, grinding against the wet muscle that dragged out whines and pleas for more. But all too soon he was drawing away from you despite the tugs on his hair.

“As much as I’d love for you to cum on my tongue, I’d much rather you came on my cock.”

He made quick work of the fastenings of his pants and even quicker in removing them. You wiggled in anticipation of what was to come, unable to keep still in your excitement. Aligned with your centre, he pushed into you with one smooth thrust, the two of you groaning in unison.

“Fuck, so tight. So hot. Just for me.”

His head fell to nestle into you neck, his body weight supported by his forearms, the sounds of his pleasure floating directly into your ear, sending shivers of desire down your spine. You legs came to wrap around his waist yet again, anchoring him to you as you encouraged him to go deeper with breathy pleas. Your hands tried to find purchase in his back, leaving red rivulets in their wake as they dug into muscle. Nips at the delicate skin of your neck sent jolts down to your core leading you to the euphoria to come.

“Keep clenching around me like that and I’ll come too soon Noona.”

You whimpered, your high not building quick enough for you, something was missing. You wanted to cum so badly. Jungkook lifted one your legs to his shoulder, the change in angle causing his pelvis to rub against your neglected clit. You withered beneath him, his name broken on your lips, a sight he had always wanted to see and Jungkook would be damned if he didn’t commit it to memory.  Catching a nipple in his mouth, he lightly bit at the nub, little droplets welling to the surface as you gave an erotic keen making his cock twitch inside you.

“I wanna cum, please make me cum.” You sobbed, fingers digging into his back, warm wet blood slicking their tips as you accidentally broke the skin.

Jungkook growled, sweat slicked hair strands sticking to his forehead as intense crimson eyes stared into your dazed ones, “Please what?”

“Please make me cum Master, I can’t take anymore.”

“Good Noona.”

A slap to your sensitive clit was all it took to send you hurtling over the edge into rapture, your back arching as your fangs embedded into Jungkook’s throat which he willingly bore to you. So caught up in you pleasure, you didn’t hear Jungkook’s cry of release, the sound of the door opening or the feeling of your own neck being bitten.

When your senses came back to you, the first thing you noticed was that Jungkook was growling, his arms wrapped possessively around you. And as you went to pull away, he refused to do the same, effectively blocking you from being able to turn your head. It seemed rather odd to you. Well odd until-

“Dammit brat this is why we have the basement!”

[contre-qui]

Book 9 of 2020: Maplecroft

(at this point I'm not going to bother with the quarantine tally because this thing is gonna last for like a year)

Maplecroft by Cherie Priest

"'You're looking for magic, Lizzie. God doesn't give us magic, only science.'

'Last century's magic is this year's science,' I argued. [...]

'You're treading on dangerous ground.'

'We're living on dangerous ground. And we can't seem to leave it, so I'll work on making it less dangerous - which, yes, is a dangerous effort in itself.' Exasperated with both her and myself, I threw up my hands. 'I'm not sure what you want from me, Emma. I am doing my best and that's all that can be asked of me.'

'No one is asking more. But I fear for you, out there, downstairs, fighting monsters. You touch those things, and they touch you back.'" (112)

I haven't read a Cherie Priest book in years, but when my mom loaned me this one I was super excited. I had mentioned offhand to her about the Borden murders and my personal theories behind the killer(s), and she grabbed this little beauty for me to read.

       Maplecroft is a sci-fi/Eldritch horror take on the murders of Abigail and Andrew Borden in Fall River, MA. The book doesn't actually focus on their murders; it opens a few years after they have occured and Lizzie Borden has been found innocent by the court. Now, Lizbeth lives with her sister Emma in a new house they call Maplecroft, on the other side of town. Rumors abound about the both of them, especially Lizbeth. Lizbeth, however has bigger issues. Strange monsters threaten her home on a regular basis.  A collection of strange stones she keeps in her basement laboratory call to her. Her research has led to few answers as to what these creatures might be, or what they want. But her trusty axe tends to take care of them. Emma is significantly older than Lizzie, and is suffering from consumption. She has a correspondence partner at a university who believes her to be a man - a doctor of marine biology like himself. When Emma mails him a strange specimen she found on the beach for his examination and interest, he becomes sucked into this world of monsters too. And back in Fall River, people are starting to become affected with a strange sickness that bloats and slows the body, addles the mind, and looks eerily similar to what affected Andrew and Abigail Borden before their murders. These strange happenings are all connected somehow, but the full picture is unclear until the very end.

       This was such a well-written novel. The word choice was excellent, and I loved the way Priest was able to write her characters and their development. The novel switches between perspectives by using different correspondences and journal entries of the characters to round out the story and clue readers in to a number of factors and details before the characters themselves are able to get the whole picture. We also get perspective from the affected professor, which really adds a level of creep-factor to the whole thing. As he falls deeper into madness, his justification for his actions becomes twisted and terrifying, really adding to the strangeness of the story. I loved the cast of characters - from real people like Emma and Lizzie, to fictional add-ons like a local doctor, an actress, a government investigator, and even the one-off perspectives of people like telegram operators. Even characters we met only once were interesting and dynamic. I personally enjoyed the inclusion of a small romance between Lizbeth and an actress named Nance, who became involved in the whole situation as well. Not only was I pleased to see a queer relationship written so casually, even in a novel set Victorian Massachusetts, but it wasn't even the main focus of the book. I think the fact that Nance could have been a man without much changing the story really makes that little inclusion special because it shows a conscious choice on Priest's part to represent queer people in a time period when we are often written out of history.

Overall, if you're into creepy, Lovecraftian horror, you'll probably like this. Maplecroft veers more towards creepy and suspenseful than actually scary, but maybe if you're more sensitive to monsters/suspense than I am that might make it scarier. Plus, if you're also a fan of true crime or you know about the Borden murders, this is a super interesting take on a real event that doesn't have a distinct conclusion.

        Trigger warnings for violence, blood, monsters, character death, killing/murder/self defence, illness, weaponry (axe, gun), mentions of Christianity/religion, and general creepiness. Also Lovecraft was a massive racist so if you don't like things based on that type of Eldritch horror I guess keep that in mind, but this does not have racist leanings; it's just a use of that type of monster.

       My overall opinion: An extremely creative idea, executed brilliantly!

[jessikahathaway]

An Angel and her Lover

Oof, hi again.

So, for the first time I want to dedicate a fic to someone here. @jeonggukingdom. Rosebud, I love you and thanks for being an awesome friend. Let’s be together for a long time, yes?

So, for my darling Rosebud, I present a Jungkook Frankenstein!AU, or the monster, whatever. Literature buffs, get out. 

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Words: 26,760 (oh my God I’m sorry)

Warnings: Violence, Graphic depictions of blood and gore, Hanging, Triggers, attempted murder, smut (duh?)

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Frankenstein!AU, Smut, Slight Horror (if ya squint ya eyeballs)

Summary: Unable to let the fates of the world betray the life of such a beautiful young man, you defy the work of God, and save him. Now, you must deal with the consequences... One of them, falling in love with he who shouldn’t have lived.

People always fear what they can never understand.

People understood your father’s medical knowledge. But that doesn’t mean they liked him in any respect. Didn’t let their children near your family home, one that used to be ran by your father.

He was the towns physician, not by a choice of the people. But because he knew what he was doing. You studied under him with dedication and drive, wanting to provide that same care and love to the people once your father was unable.

But Karma was a cruel mistress, and she worked in interesting ways.

He died of consumption last frost. Your mother had died when you were a child, so you were left entirely alone in the world. No grandparents, no aunts or uncles. No cousins or even friends to confide in when loneliness overtook you at night.

The town left small tokens at your front gate, noting the passing of your father. But no one confronted you, no one came to the door to share in your loss. They let you suffer alone, and that’s all you would ever be.

But, you continued your father’s work, even after he had passed... it was all you knew.

Little did the people know, your father had a particular obsession since your mother had passed all those years ago...

He believed there was a way to bring the dead back to life.

He thought that if there was a storm big enough, he could harness the charge in the air and the electricity being produced would be enough to jumpstart the human brain back into function. Although, the problem was you had to catch the individual not long after dead in order to make it work. Unfortunately for you mother, that meant there was no bringing her back, and once your father had discovered this...

He went insane.

Staying up into late hours, ignoring his basic human needs for days on end. You’d bring him plate after plate of food, only to return to remove a stale version. Talking to himself, answering in a different tone as if there was a different person in the room with him. You were slightly frightened of the man he had become...

He hid it well in front of others, however you saw the devastation it raved on his mind. The father you’d grown up with was slowly crumbling when the ailment took its course through his body.

You were heartbroken, but at the same time you were a little relieved that he had managed to pass before he was completely lost. You weren’t sure if you could’ve watched that happen, you might have had to leave him if it had gone much further...

He caught consumption from handling corpses too often, something you had warned him about, but he didn’t listen. Every time a storm came in... He had to try, at least with one body. However, he couldn’t get it to work in the larger bodies... It never lasted long. Generally, it was enough for the corpse to shudder, possibly move an appendage and then their brain became overwhelmed from the strain of the electricity and it cooked... After that there truly was no second chance.

While your father desperately tried his method over and over again, you researched into the probability of herbal concoctions being added to the corpse to add in the regeneration process. You believed that if there was a herbal barrier between the electricity, that the corpse wouldn’t burn up... The electricity could be funneled through the body efficiently, instead of focusing in one area.

Even though your father didn’t see the point, you were certain if a particular mixture was added to the point of contact for the electrodes on the body, then there was a way to make it work. If you added a conductor to the process, then the possibility of success might increase.

But finding a fresh body was difficult, and generally frowned upon by the local peoples. The graveyard had been ravaged by your father, and the townspeople thought it was some animal digging up their loved ones. So, they had built a gate to dissuade any living being that came in during the night hours.

With your father being older, climbing the large fence by himself would be difficult, with a body added to it, procuring a subject would be near impossible. This lef your father with much smaller beings to work with, such as rabbits and deer that he managed to trap and kill while out on hunting excursions. Fish, also, were a medium that your father had some success in.

But it always came back to human beings in his mind. He truly believed that he could bring back people from the dead. And he wasn’t going to stop until he managed to do it.

Yet, death took him as well and no doubt to a place where he wouldn’t be with your mother either... Your father was a good man, but he had been overtaken with sadness and guilt of your mother’s death, and it turned him into someone he wasn’t by the end.

This didn’t make his absence hurt any less however. It was still difficult to eat breakfast without his whistles being heard from the other room. Every time it rained you thought of him, and when lightning cracked in the sky you wondered if it was really possible...

Was he actually on to something? Was there a way for you to bring the dead back to life?

These thoughts lead you to some research left in your father’s library. He had many scribbles and notes that didn’t make much sense. However, there was one letter that was written and dated about four years before he passed.

He was still writing in cohesive sentences. It must’ve been before he really went off the deep end...

It went as follows:

Dear Y/N,

I fear my mind isn’t entirely my own any longer. These thoughts in my head, it feels too overwhelming. As if another is controlling my thoughts and making me do things I don’t entirely want to, or feel the need to do...

But, my daughter, please believe me every time I say I love you. You remind me of your mother dearly, and perhaps that’s what hurts me the most. The fact that even though she isn’t here, I still get to see her in you... Your intelligence is blinding, much like hers. And I hope when I am no longer to finish my work... You will be able to take after me. Would you do me that honour?

Even if I become someone I am not, will you stay with me my child?

Til the end?

Your adoring father...

After finding that letter you sat in his study and sobbed. The emptiness in the home didn’t suit you. You hated waking up alone, going to bed alone and always being alone. You clutched the letter to your chest, heaving in breaths as you tried to calm your racing heart.

“Yes father,” you whimpered... “I will do as you ask.”

Soon you were going out and finding new herbs, flowers, trees and animals to test your theories out on. You healed the sick animals to see if they responded well to the treatment, and if they didn’t you did your best to aid them anyways.

If they died from their injuries then you tried to get their bodies on ice as quickly as possible. That way their organs didn’t rot and they were in the state akin to life just placed on pause.

However, you never crossed over to humans. That was something you weren’t going to do. If you successfully brought an animal back from the dead, then you would close up your father’s laboratory and begin his physicians practice once more.

That lead you to the day you found a dog, dying on the road.

It whimpered in pain, you remember it clearly. You had never felt so much anguish for an animal in your life. You quickly collected the pooch into a blanket and hurried home, a storm was brewing...

Getting home you found the extent of his injuries. He had been trampled by some horses, and left for dead no doubt. The thought made rage boil in your stomach, but you didn’t let it weigh you down. There was far too much work to do. Breaking into your strongest medicines and painkillers you tried to keep the poor animal at ease. Cooing it into slumber, patting it’s head affectionately and staying by it’s side the whole night.

At around midnight, the animal stopped breathing. Your heart lurched in your chest and you heard a crack of thunder in the distance. The wind beat itself against the windows and you saw your father’s old cot laying in the corner.

Before thinking too much about the prospects you acted. Gathering his old electrodes and clamps you moved the dog onto the cot, wheeling him towards the center of the room... Slathering your own concoctions onto his head you prayed that his fur wouldn’t obstruct your work too much. Grabbing the bolts you hammered them into his temples, then connecting the final wires to them. Next you found your father’s serum... It was the only thing he used, and it must have some sort of reanimative properties if his corpses were able to regain a form of movement after the electricity came through... Pushing a few droplets into the poor animals mouth, you stepped back.

The ceiling had a prong sticking high into the sky in hopes of catching a lightning strike and directing the energy towards a body, aiding in the reanimation process. This was one of the first projects your father had undergone after your mother died. It took him nearly three years to complete, and was the beginning of his end. You father also covered in glass so that he could see the lightning rod without much difficult. So you watched and waited... Rain howled loudly outside, making you bite your lips in nerves. This was it, you could feel the static charge prickle along your skin.

CCRRAACCKKK!

The room was engulfed in light and you threw the lever connecting the lightning rode to the electrodes. You had to shield your eyes from the brightness of it all.

When the ringing had stopped in your ears and the blue spots disappeared from your vision, you found the dog whimpering on the cot. Tip toeing over you peered at the canine from afar.

He wasn’t just jolting, he was actually breathing, eyes looking around and staring at his surroundings. Your mouth dropped open. Minutes went by, and the animal didn’t fall still once more. If anything, he became more animated, wanting to sit up but the clamps preventing his movements.

It had worked.

Falling to your knees beside the dog you began to sob into the animal’s soft fur. You had did it... He had come back to life, and your father was right. Your father’s hard work hadn’t gone to waste, he wasn’t an insane fool... his death now meant something.

It felt so good to cry with someone in the room. You weren’t so alone anymore, because this being here was able to be with you now... Because you had done the impossible, and brought him back from the land of the dead...

And that was the last time you were ever going to do it. You swore...

You woke up with the sun shining bright in your eyes, as well as a numb arm.

“Ugh, get off Garçon,” you whined, pulling your arm out from underneath his warm body. Your dog groaned and shuffled over, making himself comfortable against your pillows once more.

Scoffing at his attitude you got out of bed, grabbing your robe and tying it around your waist before heading downstairs. The beauty of having an undead animal was that they didn’t eat anything. He never was hungry and you were alright with that.

Less money out of your coin purse every week.

You began to make coffee, boiling the water on the stove like you did every morning.

A soft knock came from the door and you raised an eyebrow.

Who would be here this early in the morning?

Walking over you opened the door and the bright smile of Kim Taehyung greeted you. Smiling back you leaned against your door. “Good morning, Taehyung, what can I help you with?”

Taehyung’s eyes moved down your body before clearing his throat and looking into your eyes. “I have the money for my Father’s medicine, and I know that you’re not going to-”

“Taehyung I’ve told you many times that I don’t want money from you, his payment was birthing one of the kindest people I know... So go buy something you really want with that money, okay? I know you must’ve worked very hard for it,” you urged.

“D-Do you think, I could buy both of us dinner tonight with it?” he asked, a soft blush painting his features.

The wind blew your hair away from your face and you giggled. Taehyung bit his lip nervously as you appeared to mull the thought over in your mind. “Mmm, what would we be eating Taehyung?” you asked.

“Whatever you want!” he announced firmly.

“What if what I want isn’t on that particular menu?” you winked. Taehyung smirked and leaned against your door frame.

“Then you can order off the private menu if you’d like,” he suggested.

“Perhaps I could join you for dinner then,” you agreed.

“Really? You mean it?” he asked, eyes glimmering with hope.

“I would be delighted to join you, just tell me where?” you asked.

“Jin’s tavern, he serves the best food I’ve ever had,” he stated.

“But you haven’t tasted the best cuisine yet,” you flirted, pulling on your nightgown with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Perhaps I could sample it for dessert tonight?” he whispered.

“If you’re lucky,” you winked. “I really would like to join you for a meal. All jokes aside,” you confirmed.

“Then meet me at an hour before dusk at the tavern, and we’ll eat there,” Taehyung offered.

“I’ll see you then, Taehyung.”

He smiled and kissed your hand demurely before trotting off down your drive with a spring in his step. Shutting the door you slid down it on your back and squealed into your lap.

You’d liked Taehyung for years, even when the village folk didn’t accept you after your father passed... He had found you outside playing with Garçon and he had become a dear friend of yours ever since. When you brought your face up you found Garçon staring at you with an amused expression. “Oh stop it pooch, I’m allowed to be excited for my first date!” you yelped.

Garçon wagged his tail, coming closer and curling up next to you on the floor. You patted his head, trying to keep yourself from going crazy with excitement.

“Finally, finally I can be a normal girl for once. I don’t have to be the reclusive doctor, I can go out and maybe get to have my first kiss, huh?” you stared at Garçon eagerly. He just barked and you hugged him tight.

You progressed with your day, trying to keep focused on your work and not so much on the cute boy with a smile bright enough to melt your heart. You messed up two rosemary salves and one lemongrass and ginger herbal tea for someone else. You decided it would just be better if you didn’t continue working, in fear of something blowing up in your face.

So, you roamed around your home. Trying to keep yourself preoccupied was proving to be difficult. As high noon came around you tried to get a bath running so your hair would be dry by the evening. Pouring in your favorite scented oil you smiled, rose filling your nostrils.

Peeling off your clothing, you submerged your body and sighed in relief. As you sat in the warm water, you wondered briefly if Taehyung would still go on a date with you if he knew what you had done...

No one really knew that Garçon was dead, because they weren’t there... And he looked healthy, due to the fact that his broken ribs had been reset by you. So now he acted like any normal dog... But if Taehyung knew the truth about him, would he accept that? Would he understand that you were a scientist who had brought back a dog...

You shook your head quickly, not letting the thoughts overwhelm you. It would never come up in conversation, and therefore it wouldn’t matter. Taehyung didn’t have to know, because you weren’t going to do it again. You weren’t certain you could.

Leaving the anxious feeling behind you let yourself sink lower into the water and began to clean your skin.

Standing in front of your bedroom mirror you tried to think of the best dress to wear out for the night. It was going to be a little chilly, so you wanted to wear one with sleeves. But, if the night progressed how you hoped... Then you wanted the dress to be alluring for Taehyung to view.

However, you didn’t want to seem like a floozy. Even though your interaction earlier wasn’t exactly proper...

Looking through your wardrobe you found a soft pink dress that had sleeve with a square neckline that left a little for the imagination. You smiled and pulled the soft material on over your body, letting it settle accordingly before adjusting as needed.

Buttoning up the bodice you looked outside to see the time. You had approximately forty five minutes left before Taehyung’s meeting time. Hurrying to pull your hair up, you found a pin and twisted your locks in a simple fashion, leaving a few strands to frame your face.

Grabbing your mother’s necklace you put it around your neck. The familiar weight calmed your nerves as you sat at your vanity. You did simple brushes of powder and added a smidge of blush cream. A soft rose blend on your lips for color. You looked beautiful...

A tear fell down your cheek as you thought of your parents.

They would want to see you at this moment. How much you had grown, and how beautiful you had become. The picture of them smiling with you as a babe sat on your vanity gazing at you. You knew they could see you, and you knew they were proud.

Although, you hoped once the night progressed they would turn their eyes away...

Gathering your purse and accessories you trotted down the stairs, slipping your feet into your shoes at the bottom of the stairs. Garcon waited patiently at the door for you, ready to walk with you to the end of the drive like he did nearly every day. You moved with haste, noticing the sun beginning to move lower into the sky. You got to the door and opened it, leaving it cracked so Garçon could get back in and shut it when you left.

For being dead, he was a pretty smart boy.

You almost sprinted to your gate before flinging it open in excitement.

Once outside, you turned and waved at Garçon who was sitting patiently. He always watched you walk away before he would go back in the house. He wanted to make sure you got off where you were going safely. As you turned your back you felt a chill run down your spine. Looking off towards the East you saw almost black clouds rolling in.

A storm? Tonight?

It seemed unlikely, especially with the beautiful weather you’d had all week. Perhaps it would pass over. You didn’t think too much before you headed towards the tavern.

Jin’s Tavern was over on the other end of town, tucked back towards the edge of the forest. It was a long walk, so you picked up your pace. Jogging through the village everyone looked on in shock as the Physician’s daughter passed them by. A few waved, mostly the farmers whom you interacted with regularly.

“Where are you getting off to so gussied up?” Mrs. Yening asked, pulling in some of her flowers.

“Taehyung asked me to dinner tonight,” you smiled brightly. She fussed over you and pressed your cheeks, much like a mother would her babe. Since you ventured out of your home, and left the daunting facade of the quack doctor’s daughter behind, people actually started to respect you.

Not everyone was as kind as Mrs. Yening, but they were civil, and you were so grateful for it. Your loneliness had killed you. The people in the village scared of the grief-consumed individual you had turned into.

However, Garçon had brought you from that darkness. He had given you Taehyung, and when Taehyung came along, everyone else did as well.

Mrs. Yening placed a delicate alyssum bundle in your hair, cooing at the sight you gave her. “Now, hurry along, don’t keep the anxious boy waiting any longer!”

Nodding you ran off, a huge grin on your face as you made it to Jin’s Tavern. It was a little after the time Taehyung had stated, so you hoped you didn’t make him wait long...

Entering the large doors you were hit with the smell of food and drink. Everyone was laughing boisterously, glasses clinking and men whistling. You saw Jimin, the baker’s son, sitting at a table with Namjoon and Yoongi. Two of the local law enforcement. They mainly just settled little disputes here and there to keep everything intact. Hoseok and Seokjin were chatting at the bar when Jin noticed you standing at the door.

“Y/N! Come on over here!” he urged.

Excusing yourself through the crowd you came up to the older man and sat down. Hoseok passed you a glass of water as Jin wiped down the counter in front of you.

“You seem to be flushed, what’s got you all in a rush?” Hoseok smiled.

“I-I’m having dinner with Taehyung, here,” you said, huffing before taking large gulps of the water.

“Oh, are you? I haven’t seen him yet,” Hoseok wondered.

“He’s sure to turn up if Y/N is waiting, the boy will come for miles if it means she’s going to be there,” Jin teased.

You blushed and waited. The men before you chatting still, making small little comments to see you smile.

However, time rolled on.

And Taehyung didn’t show up.

You sat on the stool and every time the door opened you whipped around with a smile on your face, until you discovered none of the people entering were Taehyung. Hoseok looked at you worried, passing you another glass of water.

Jimin came over and offered you something to eat, but you declined... Taehyung had offered to purchase your meal tonight and you wanted to make sure you had an appetite for when he arrived.

Namjoon and Yoongi approached as well, asking if you wanted them to go out to look for the man in question. You weren’t sure if that was necessary. “I don’t think anything bad happened to him. I know he’ll be here. I’m sure he will.”

The night kept progressing.

Your stomach protested with the lack of food in it, but you held firm. Each time it growled Hoseok and Jin would offer to make you something to eat. On the house, but you refused each time. Taehyung would buy you a meal tonight... He said he would.

People began to flood from the doors. The liveliness of the evening narrowing out as it turned night. Jin started walking around the emptying tavern and began collecting plates, cups and getting ready for the place to close up for the night.

“Are you sure he meant tonight, Y/N? Maybe he meant tomorrow?” Jin offered as he walked past with a stack of dishes in his hands.

You held your head up in your palm, a sad expression on your face. “No, he asked me to dinner tonight. I know I didn’t mishear him,” you answered.

“P-Perhaps he got caught up at the mill?” Hoseok tried.

“He doesn’t have to work at the mill for at least two more days. The shipment of lumber from the yard isn’t due here until then,” you sighed.

Jin and Hoseok shared a solemn expression. “Y/N, it’s almost time for me to close... I-I don’t think the lad is coming tonight.”

You felt the sharp burn of tears in your eyes as you realized his statement.

A crack of thunder was heard in the distance and the two men looked at you with worried eyes. “I can make you up a bed for the night, it looks like it’s going to rain,” Hoseok stated.

“No,” your voice cracked. Hoseok placed his palm on your shoulder, rubbing it with a tenderness only a friend could offer.

“Y/N, don’t cry,” Jin pleaded.

“He said he wanted to use the money he made from extra hours at the mill to dine with me... Why would he lie and then not show up? Maybe something bad did happen to him...” you pulled on your lower lip with your teeth.

“Should I go get Yoongi and Namjoon? Maybe we should go out to look for him, you know he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be with Y/N,” Hoseok said, standing up.

“They might be asleep but I could go get Namjoon-”

“No, it’s fine,” you whispered, letting the tears fall freely down your face. “I should just accept that he isn’t coming. Because he didn’t want to... I think I’m just going to go home for the night.”

“Y/N, it’s going to storm out there! We can’t just let you go!” Jin protested.

“I’ll be fine you two, believe me,” you smiled weakly.

Hoseok gave you a tight hug before wiping your tears. “I’m sure he wanted to come tonight, he’s sure to have a good reason. Don’t worry about it and hurry home, Garçon should be waiting for you.”

You nodded and gathered your things before heading out the door.

It was bitterly cold as you came out from Jin’s warm tavern. The wind was blowing hard and you felt your pin beginning to unfurl from your hair. Collecting your skirts you began to head home.

It was hard not to feel upset and hurt, but you tried to keep your head held high as the tears flowed freely. Jin and Hoseok were probably right, something came up. It’s not that he didn’t want to be here, something must’ve come up... It had to...

“DEAR GOD HELP ME!”

Your head turned so sharp you felt it pop slightly at the motion.

“SAVE ME PLEASE!”

The sound of a petrified man carried over the screaming wind.

“ANYONE PLEASE! I’M DYING!”

You didn’t even think as you took off towards the sound of the voice. Your feet flew into the forest before you could even think about what you were doing. The voice sounded so terrified, in so much pain.

What had happened?

You had to hurry, someone needed you and you weren’t going to let them down.

“ARE YOU THERE?! ANSWER ME!” you screamed, trying to hear their voice once more.

“PLEASE! THIS WAY!” a distinct male voice answered again.

You could hear him, he wasn’t that much further. He couldn’t be, if you could hear him over this wind.

Your skirt caught on a branch, halting your movements. Grabbing the fabric you simply ripped yourself free from the tree, heading off once more. The frigid air burned your delicate skin, but it was secondary at this point. Someone needed you.

“WHERE ARE YOU?” you yelled again.

“Help... me!”

He sounded weaker, but even closer than last time.

Deeper into the woods you went, trying to keep your pathway straight as possible so you could get out quickly. You heard deep gasping, as if someone was struggling to breathe. Looking around frantically, your eyes found a horrific sight.

A man, probably around your age, lay with a tree stump protruding from his stomach. Crimson blood leaked from his injury and you had to cover your mouth to keep from crying in horror. He was already gravely pale, and you wondered if you were going to be able to do anything.

Not letting your doubt fall into your mind, you fell to your knees beside him.

“Hey, can you hear me?” you asked, cradling his head in your hands. He was beautiful, skin smooth and clear. Body lean and structured, a strong young man. His forehead was damp with sweat, no doubt from the pain. Biting your lip you looked at his wound. The stump wasn’t too thick, but it carved a disgusting whole in his mid section.

“H-help... me...” he sputtered, coughing up blood onto his pouty lips.

“I will, I’ll help you,” you promised, brushing the blood away from his mouth. Looking at the stump and his stomach you grew worried. There wasn’t going to be anyway for you to move him, not without causing him to hemorrhage. The stump was the only reason he hadn’t bled out before you found him.

“What’s your name?” you asked, brushing his damp hair away from his face.

“J-Jung-gkook,” he rasped.

“I’m Y/N,” you answered, dabbing at his sallow cheeks tenderly. You were going to stay with him. As long as it took, you were going to keep him as comfortable as you could.

“So-so, tired,” he whimpered.

“Then sleep,” you urged, moving so he could rest his head in your lap. His skull rested against your thighs solidly, making you flush. Disgust at your own thoughts raved in your mind. He was dying, you weren’t going to think of him in that way during his final moments.

You frowned at the sight before you. He was obviously young like yourself, so handsome. Looking at him you noticed a piece of paper crumpled in his hands. Pulling it away from him you examined it.

A note from his mother...

Dear Jungkook,

Please hurry... Your father isn’t doing well and we need the tea from the doctor in that town. We love you so much son, hurry back and be safe.

Your devoted parents.

Tears thatched to your eyelashes as you swallowed hard.

He was trying to save his father...

And he must’ve tripped on the vines a few feet from here and fell onto the stump, impaling himself. It made you sick to your stomach to view his pain.

“Jungkook?” you asked, smoothing his hair gently.

“Mmm,” he answered quietly, his breathing was slowing. He didn’t have much time left.

“Are you scared?” you asked.

“No... an angel is wi-ith me,” he sputtered, looking at you through his lashes.

“I’m not an angel,” you shook your head.

“Can yo-u, g-get that note,” he swallowed hard, obviously straining to speak. It obviously pained the poor man to speak, but he wasn’t going to give up. “Get it... to the town’s doctor... M-my dad... sick...”

You smiled. “I am the town’s Doctor, and I will make sure your father gets the treatment he needs,” you stated.

“An-gel,” he whispered. “Th-ank... you...”

His eyes fell shut and his harsh breathing stopped. You bit your lip and felt tears streaming down your face. Why did this happen? How could someone so caring and so sweet, lay there dead in your lap. Cradling his head in your hands you smoothed his cheeks gently, as if trying to calm a fitful babe.

Another crack of thunder jolted you from your thoughts.

Thunder...

Your mind froze.

You said you wouldn’t do it again... But, you had to try.

If anyone deserved another chance, it was Jungkook.

Mind made up, you laid his head gently on the ground. You got your hands underneath his still warm torso before pushing up with all your might. A sickeningly wet sound pounded in your ears as Jungkook’s body came free of the stump. He fell on top of you, lips placed on your throat. Cringing from the weight and idea of a dead man laying atop you, you scrambling to your feet. Widening your stance you pulled on his hands, letting his front touch your back. You winced as the feeling of blood dripped down your spine. You swallowed thick, trying to keep yourself from getting sick.

Locking your arms around his upper chest, you began to run, as fast as you could with Jungkook on your back.

The wind howled as you did so.

It didn’t matter that your legs and arms were in agony from the haul.

You just had to get home...

And fast.

Falling into your home you gasped in much needed air.

“GARÇON!” you cried.

The distinct sound of his paws hitting the wooden floor upstairs came fast.

Soon, you felt him licking your face.

“Grab him, and get him to Dad’s laboratory,” you urged.

Something that had surprised you when Garçon had come back was how strong he was. He was a Great Dane, but still his strength seemed a little outrageous. Also, his intelligence was startling. At first, he was a little slow... But watching you he seemed to learn, you taught him commands and places in your home, and he was able to perform them. No mere canine was that brilliant, you wondered if it would work with other animals, but you weren’t going to try...

At least not until a young man with a golden heart fell into your lap.

You heard him pulling Jungkook as you ran ahead, getting your dress off and grabbing a robe to throw on. Throwing on your physician’s robe you just didn’t want to be naked. Quickly, as if the stairs were made of burning coals, you made your way down into the lower level of the house.

Grabbing the bannister you locked your fingers around it and propelled yourself down the hallway. Passing Garçon and Jungkook on the way you hurried to unlock your father’s laboratory. You pulled on the door aggressively, but it wasn’t budging. It hadn’t been open since the morning after you reanimated Garçon, and that was almost five years ago now...

Planting your feet firmly on the ground, you yanked with a great deal of strength, and the door came free. Stumbling backwards into the wall you winced at a stinging sensation. You peered down at your arm and noticed a gash bleeding through your robe. Letting the burn of pain disappear in your mind, you flew through the door and bolted over to your father’s former desk and counters. They were covered in dust and grime making you wondered if you should even attempt this...

The sound of dragging made you turn. Garçon had Jungkook’s body in the doorway. “Good boy, Garçon. Over here,” you said, pointing towards the center of the room. You had to hurry and find the bolts and wires that connected to the main line that stuck up in the air from the ceiling.

Throwing open a few cabinets you coughed at the collection of dust that sat atop it. You kneeled on the floor and pushed aside various bottles and jars of salves that would do you no good during this process.

Finding two jars towards the back you gripped them in your hand and pulled them before you. They were the ones you wanted: Rosemary and Witch hazel ointment then a Bergamot and Yarrow salve. The witch hazel and rosemary for cleansing and bergamot and yarrow for healing.

Garçon barked at you, sitting next to Jungkook’s body. You nodded and grabbed the old cot that had been the place of Garçon’s rebirth. Pushing it towards the center of the room, the jars of your ingredients set on the bedding.

Once you latched the bed down into the floor, you grabbed Jungkook’s body and hauled it up onto the bed, staining the sheets with blood. You winced when his hand brushed your shoulder, but you continued on. Garçon pushed with his nuzzle, aiding you in getting Jungkook up onto the cot with ease.

You huffed in exhaustion, the run back to your home and adrenaline beginning to dissipate in your system. But you weren’t done, you had to try. He was owed that much.

Finding a medical kit on the counter towards the windows, you grabbed it and pulled on the gloves inside. Pushing aside various pieces of gauze and surgical tape you found the sutures and thread that would provide useful.

Lighting a candle you held the suture needle over the flame and sanitized it best you could. Grabbing a couple clamps and more dabbing cloths you set to work. Taking Jungkook’s shirt in your hand, you ripped the delicate fabric down and revealed the extent of his wound.

The sight made you slightly ill, you had no idea it was this severe. You were surprised he had managed to hang on as long as he did. It was a testament to his love for his family, especially his ailing father.

These revelations made you even more determined to succeed.

You had to work fast, Jungkook’s body was already settling into rigor mortis. Once it fully set in, there wasn’t much to be done after words. So, you began stitching and cutting out the already permanently damaged flesh. You had to close the wound before you attempted reanimation, because if it was successful... He could be walking around with a giant hole in his chest.

Fingers cramping and brow slick with sweat you wondered if you were going to find triumph in your endeavor. You wanted to be right. You wanted Jungkook to go home to his parents...

But you hadn’t brought a human back before, and you were unsure of the progression of age on the body after he was resurrected. However, you’d cross that bridge when it appeared.

Finally...

Finally you were closing the surface wounds. The thunder clapped outside, reminding you of the urgency for the situation. You set down your instruments and pulled off your gloves. Moving towards the head of the cot, you looked at Jungkook’s pale face.

He was beautiful.

Soft eyelashes, plush lips and chiseled bones underneath smooth skin... You were entranced by him, even in this state he was a vision.

Shaking your head you moved for the bolts and fasteners. Placing steel bolts next to his temples, you hammered it into place. Swallowing at the sickening sound of his bones yielding to the tool, you felt slightly nauseous.

Next you grabbed the salves and placed them over his stitches. Placing a few dollops of your father’s serum in his mouth, you stepped back. Heaving in gulps of air you realized you hadn’t been breathing out of nerves.

Locating the electrodes, you began to attach them appropriately. Once the last one was secure, you looked at your work. He was hooked up and all you had to do was wait for the perfect time.

This was the hardest part.

You had to wait until a lightning bolt hit the rod, then throw the switch to allow the electricity to flow freely. It was a shock that your father had mastered it years ago, and even more so that you had done it with Garçon.

To duplicate the miracle was unlikely; but the rod was high enough in the air and made out of copper.

Moving over to the switch on the wall you gripped it and watched the sky with nerves eating you up inside. Your reaction time was the most imperative part of this moment. Garçon whined in the corner of the room, however you didn’t move.

“Don’t distract me Garçon, I need to fo-”

CRACK!

WHAM!

You pulled the lever down hard, and the room lit up brightly, much like it did years ago with Garçon. You flew to the ground, covering your head with your hands. The sound of glass cracking made your heart race, but you stayed still.

Garçon ran over, placing his head atop yours to protect you.

Another bolt of lightning struck and you saw Jungkook’s body sitting up on the cot.

Your eyes widened as you looked at his frame. He was rigid on the bed, shoulders squared. Garçon stood in front of you, looking at Jungkook warily.

“J-Jungkook?” You whispered, voice weak.

His head snapped towards yours. That’s when you realized you hadn’t fastened the stamps on the cot. Jungkook was freely moving.

Standing up you noticed as Jungkook kept his eyes on you. Placing your hands up slowly, you moved to approach him. However, you couldn’t stop your trembling. Had you really done it? Brought a human back from the planes of the unknown? Your throat was raw with anxiety.

When you were about six feet from Jungkook, is when it all went south.

Jungkook started gripping at the electrodes attached to his frame. Knowing that they were still charged you needed to keep them attached so the circuits could run their course. If he pulled them now, he could fall dead once more.

“Jungkook, don’t!” You yelped, moving to his side quickly.

The wind left your lungs as he threw his arm out. Landing on the ground in a pained heap you cried in distress. Garçon came over, growling at Jungkook.

“Garçon, down,” You huffed.

“No..” he mumbled, tugging at the equipment. You stood back up, albeit struggling, and tried once more to get close.

“Jungkook you need to wait,” you urged, trying to take his hand.

Yet again, he pushed you away. This time you lost your footing and hit the edge of the cabinets with your side. Gasping in anguish you hit the ground on your injured shoulder.

“Ah!” You whimpered, laying on the ground in pain. Jungkook turned his body at the sound.

“Please, you need to wait. Otherwise you might get hurt,” you whispered. Jungkook tilted his head, as if he understood.

He took his hands away from his wiring. You stood up, knees wobbling in strain and holding your arm in pain. But you needed to check on him, make sure that he was alright. His animation seemed to be holding well, however that could change in an instant.

Making it over to him, he peered at your face with curiosity. You reached out your hand carefully, showing the palm to him. Jungkook looked down at your palm, then to your face once more. “Jungkook?” you asked.

His head tilted, seeming to recognize the name. “J-Juung-koooook,” he mimicked, seeming unsure of his voice.

“That’s you, yes,” you smiled.

“Juung-koooook,” he said once more, pointing at you.

“No, I’m Y/N, you’re Jungkook,” you whispered, pointing at him.

“Ann-gell,” he whispered. You raised an eyebrow and your mind went back to earlier in the evening. He had called you an angel, before he’d passed.

“I think we can take these off now, can I-” you began to move towards him, without realizing your palm was covered in your own blood. Jungkook’s eyes widened at the sight.

“NO!” he screamed, shoving your hand away. You gasped at his violent reaction, unsure of where the hostility came from. Jungkook looked up at your shoulder, where blood was collecting on your robe. His eyes grew in fear as he moved away from your hand.

“Jungkook it’s alright!” you urged, holding your hands up in a peaceful manner. However, this seemed to upset him more.

“Pain! No!” he gasped, ripping the electrodes and pads off of his flesh.

“Jungkook stop!” you cried, trying to grip his arms to cease his frantic movements. But he was much stronger than you. Something he seemed unaware of, because he shoved you away yet again.

You tripped on a bucket and felt yourself hit the cabinet behind you, much firmer this time causing your body to collapse in a slump on the floor. Garçon whined in panic, rushing over to lick your face.

Jungkook stared at your body on the floor. You weren’t moving.

“A-an-gelll,” he whispered, attempting to move towards you with hesitance.

You whimpered in pain, holding your side. Jungkook looked down at his own hands then to you. Had he really pushed you so hard? What had he done?

“J-Jungkook,” you weakly gasped. Garçon whined in fear, licking your face frantically.

“P-painn, Angelll,” he said with such remorse it made your heart heavy.

“Jungkook, stop... You’re going to hurt yourself,” you whispered, trying to sit up.

“Angelll, p-pain,” he gasped, standing up and ripping the posts from his skull. You screamed in fear for him, watching as he stumbled into a standing position. Jungkook managed to stagger to the door, getting it open and heading down the hall.

Your throat tightened in worry, he wasn’t stable yet. You needed to keep a close eye on him until he adapted. “G-Garçon, follow him,” you demanded.

Garçon whimpered, licking your face before heading out the door after Jungkook. Finally hauling yourself up into a seated position you rested your head back against the aged wood. Exhaustion flooded your body, adrenaline and endorphins completely wiped out of your system.

You knew Garçon would follow him and keep him safe. For now you needed to get a little bit of rest before you went after Jungkook. He was stronger than you, and if you had any chance of helping him... you needed to be ready.

With heavy eyelids, you let yourself fall asleep...

Unsure of when you would open them again.

You awoke with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth and a severe bruise forming on your left side.

For a moment you weren’t sure why you were in your father’s laboratory. Then, the prior events flooded your mind.

Jungkook.

Garçon.

The reanimation...

You had to find them, and you had to do it fast.

With some difficulty you stood up, hanging onto the wood for support. Gathering yourself you managed to get out to the kitchen, when there was furious knocking at your door.

Was it Jungkook?

Did Garçon bring him back!?

Hurrying over to the door you threw it open to find...

“Taehyung?” you asked, eyebrow raised. He had the most pathetic look on his face as he weakly offered you a bouquet of wildflowers.

The anger of being stood up by the young man had long been forgotten, all that mattered right now was finding Jungkook and Garçon. However, Taehyung couldn’t know anything had happened last night. For all he knew, all he did was stand you up on a date. You must be furious with him.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry about last night, honestly I am such a fool and-”

“It’s fine, Taehyung,” you said, looking down the road for any signs of Garçon or Jungkook to be seen.

“No, Y/N, wait... What happened to your shoulder?” he asked, taking your arm in his hand. Normally, the gesture would send butterflies galore in your stomach. However, now it just sent fear. Fear of being discovered and found out to be a freak who brought the dead back to life. You couldn’t let it slip.

Bringing your arm back to your body you flipped your hair to cover the wound. “Just slipped last night, it rained quite a bit you know,” you dismissed.

“But, Y/N, it looks rather bad-”

“Taehyung, honestly. I’m alright, what did you want?” you asked.

His eyebrows raised at the hostility in your voice before swallowing hard. “Uh, I came to give these to you and to apologize for last night. Father had a fit and started to become weak. Mother needed help to keep an eye on him and I was going to come and find you after they were asleep but the rain had started by that point and-”

“I understand, don’t let it trouble you,” you urged.

“But, Y/N. I want to go out with you, properly. Shall we get breakfast? Right now? That way we won’t run the risk of-”

“I’m a little busy right now Taehyung, with the rain last night no doubt people will be coming down with colds and I should really get ahead on the tea and herbal oils to help treat them. Perhaps another time?” you asked, itching to go up to change so you could head out to look for Jungkook.

“I-I, uh, sure. Certainly, Y/N,” Taehyung said, smile lowering a little at your cold rejection.

“Thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful,” you said, taking them from his hands. “But I really should go now. If your father gets sick again let me know and I can brew a medicine for it, bye!” you yelped, shutting the door in his face before throwing the flowers on the kitchen table and running for the stairs.

You had to get out and fast. You didn’t have any clue of where Garçon and Jungkook could be, but you had to find them and quick. Jungkook was extremely volatile right now and could be dangerous if not handled properly. Garçon was with him, but there isn’t much he would be able to do in regards to Jungkook hurting someone.

Grabbing your discarded dress from last night off the floor you went to find your outdoor wear, hoping that it would work for wherever Jungkook had wandered off to.

Where would he go? You wondered as you wrapped your arm in a simple bandage and began to pull on your clothes. He wasn’t local, that much you knew. With a town as small as yours you would’ve ran into him at some point if he was.

He was in the Southern woods when you’d found him, so perhaps he was coming from that direction? The only town close enough for walking distance here is the Lunar Isles, perhaps he could’ve come from there?

As you went to place your dirtied dress down, a small piece of parcel fell from the fabric. You noticed it was covered in blood, so it was smeared lightly. Picking it up you unfolded it and recognized the handwriting.

It was the note Jungkook had on him when he passed.

Searching the piece frantically you found the seal, and it was indeed from the Lunar Isles. The Moon Lily being a dead give away. Jungkook would be heading towards his family. And that meant serious trouble.

Quickly gathering your belongings in your satchel you ran towards the door. You had to find Jungkook fast.

Before it was too late.

The road was desolate as you trekked your way towards the Lunar Isles. It would only take a few hours on foot to get there, however it was more barren than you remember. Normally, there would be traders and merchants parading this pathway. Although, last nights rain probably made the soil to unstable for carriages to have good purchase.

You kept forward, hoping that you’d be able to find some sort of sign that Jungkook or Garçon had been this way. But the rain must’ve washed away any kind of prints last night. So, tracking them would have to start when you came upon the village.

The Lunar Isles were known for their beautiful fabrics and Floral Festival that they put on each year. When the moon rose at its highest peak for the year, they have these beautiful flowers that open only on that night. It’s the only opportunity they have to pollinate, so the villagers gather to celebrate the beauty of the flowers.

They eat, dance and drink together. A large parade takes place, then later on in the evening the locals light lanterns and let them go over the river that runs through the village. After the lanterns disappear, they all gather in the fields to the East of town to watch the flowers bloom.

You’d only been once, years ago with your father. He had some business with the Apothecary of the village, and you happened to stay for the festivities.

You remember the flowers being nothing like you’d ever seen before. So beautiful and delicate. Something out of a child’s tale. Many people propose on that night, presenting a Moon Lily to their lover in hopes of their love blooming under the moon’s protection.

It was beautiful to experience. You wish you had more merry business with the town than to collect one of their passed inhabitants. But, Jungkook would most certainly go home. If his note from his family was any indication of their connection.

The sound of a carriage approaching made you turn your head. A gentleman and his wife sat in their seats, holding the reins to their horse with diligent hands. Sending them a gentle wave, you noticed they were wearing the insignia of the Lunar Isles. A Moon Lily on a pin for the lady and an embroidered sleeve for the gentleman.

They waved back at you, sending soft smiles your way.

You were close.

Even though your hair was slick with sweat and your legs, as soon as you reached the crest of the next hill you saw it. The bustling streets and ached bright colors of the Lunar Isles.

Pushing forwards you managed to make it into the main market place without too much trouble. Looking around you tried to find traces of Jungkook or Garçon.

However, there were so many people around that you had trouble looking in one spot for very long. The whirlwind of other people became slightly overwhelming. In your anxious whirlpool you ran into an older woman, knocking her down to the ground. You gasped in surprise and turned to help her up. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry, are you hurt?” you asked, steadying her by her forearms.

“I’m alright, dear, just a little distracted,” she answered with a soft smile. Looking into her face you almost passed out.

She looked like a spitting image of Jungkook. His soft eyes and delicate lips were on her face as well, making your mouth gape open like an unattractive fish. She raised her eyebrow at you in confusion. “I-Is something wrong dear?” she asked, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, it’s rude to stare. But, you just look like someone I know,” you whispered.

“Really? That is curious, but I have to hurry home and tend to my husband, goodbye,” she waved.

Before she could turned completely, you grabbed her wrist. “Ma’am! Is your husband ill? I-I’m an apprentice under Y/N from Solstice,” you attempted. Her eyes widened, almost exactly like Jungkook’s yet again.

“Truly? Y-You know her?” she asked, gripping your hands tightly. “Have you heard from my boy? Jungkook is his name, he went to search for her in hopes of procuring a medicine to help my ailing husband. We haven’t heard from him and he left days ago,” she whispered.

“I’m unsure of his whereabouts, but I do know Miss Y/N, and I could help you if you’d allow me,” you offered.

If you could find their home, Jungkook would surely be nearby.

“Yes, please come with me,” she stated, ushering you through the large crowd and towards the more residential area of the village. You hadn’t been in this section in your travels with your father.

Following Jungkook’s mother you could feel your heart clench in pain for her. She had no idea that Jungkook had died trying to save his father. And now? Now you had lost her reanimated child. Guilt ate you up inside. How were you to know if he could ever assimilate back into normal society? Would he be able to come back here and live with his family? Would he age?

All of these things didn’t come to you when you brought him back, you just couldn’t let him die like that. Alone and worried for his father’s condition. You wouldn’t allow that. But now, you might’ve cause more pain than if you had just let him die...

Jungkook’s mother, who’s name you discovered to be Minsoo, lead you into their home. It was modest and comfortable, something you wished your home would provide...

“He’s this way,” she stated. You followed her into a room that had several bottles and jars collected on cabinets and shelves. “We’ve tried everything that the Doctor’s he could think of. But they only lessen the symptoms, and they come back within weeks of starting the medicine,” she explained.

“I see, let me take a look,” you stated.

Upon examination, you found that Jungkook’s father was ill, and he was being treated for the symptoms of his ailment, not the main cause. He must’ve grown up near a large mill, because his lungs seemed to be struggling.

Luckily, there was a solution.

“I have a tea and serum that when drank and applied twice weekly will ease his difficulty breathing. Keep him away from large groups of people and try to get him into the mountains, the fresh air there does many wonders for people with weak lungs,” you explained, feeling your worry ease.

Jungkook’s mother burst into tears as she hugged you tightly. “You are truly a gift from God, thank you so much dear,” she stated. You wrapped your arms around her as well.

No wonder Jungkook was loved so deeply. His parents were such kind souls, people that didn’t deserve for their son to be taken away from them in such a horrific manner. You kept your tears back, when you heard it. Garçon’s bark.

Your head perked up, looking out the window to see if you could spot him.

“Well, I must be going, I was here to do some shopping for my lady,” you coughed awkwardly.

“Well, one moment let me at least give you some money for these-”

“No, I don’t want you to pay for it,” you stated.

“But dear!”

“Do me a favor, and I’ll consider it payment. When you see your son again, tell him how much you love him. Any child that is willing to travel so far for their parent is one to be cherished,” you whispered.

Jungkook’s mother looked at you with confusion but nodded. “Of course, I promise.”

“Good,” you smiled. “Now, I really must be on my way.”

She followed you to the door and handed you some bread for your travels back. Thanking you profusely you smiled. Once the door was shut you bolted in the direction you last remembered hearing Garcon’s bark. It had stopped a few minutes prior, but you recalled where it had originated from.

Heading towards the streets you called out for you pet. “GARÇON!” you cried, trying to locate your beloved friend.

“BARK!”

“GARÇON!” you yelled.

The sound of paws on pavement caught your attention as Garçon came flying around the corner. You rushed over and caught him in a tight hug. “Good boy, Garçon! Good boy!” you cried. He whimpered and licked your face, as if trying to check you over. “Garçon, Garçon where is Jungkook?” you asked, pulling him off of you and looking into his eyes.

“Bark!” he yelped, heading off down the road. You quickly chased after him, worried about the condition of the man who had stumbled from your home the night before.

Making around another corner you found yourself at a dead end, with Jungkook laying in a heap on the ground. Your heart stopped. “Jungkook!” you yelled, falling to your knees beside him.

He was trembling against the stonework. Garçon paced back and forth, whining. He was filthy, as if he had fallen in the mud and rolled in grass. Collecting his face in your hands you wiped away some of the grime. “Jungkook, can you hear me?” you asked, smoothing his hair away from his face.

His eyes opened slowly, seemingly weary. “Aan-gelll,” he groaned, head teetering back. You collected him and pulled him to your chest.

“Oh thank God,” you breathed, holding him tightly. “Don’t you dare run off on me again,” you warned.

Jungkook murmured against your body, but seemed to relax in your hold. Garçon came up next to you and licked his face gently, an action that made your heart swell. He had kept him safe, and here so you could find him. “Good boy, Garçon,” you praised, patting his head. You grabbed your satchel and pulled a loose fitting shirt from it and pulled it around his shoulders. “Come on Jungkook, time to go home,” you stated.

He didn’t fight you as you pulled him to his feet. Garçon walked beside him, letting his arm wrap around his neck for added support.

You all walked like that until a carriage offered to take you to Solstice, seeing as how he was heading in that direction anyways. The driver asked what happened to Jungkook, you merely patted his head affectionately. “My poor husband had a bit much to drink, so we’re just trying to get home,” you lied. The carriage driver smiled and said something about young love.

But it was silent the rest of the drive. You keeping Jungkook close to your frame while Garçon laid on his lap. Jungkook had an absent look in his eyes as if he wasn’t there, but was trapped in his own mind.

The sight was frightening, but it was both of your realities now...

And you had to live with it.

The carriage dropped you off outside of your home and you thanked him, giving him a few pouches of sweet tea in gratitude. He waved you off, disappearing into the distance. You looked at Jungkook and wrapped his arm around you.

“Come on Jungkook, we need to get you in a bath,” you stated.

Hauling him towards the house you noticed him become tense at the sight. You brushed your hand down his back soothingly, sending Garçon ahead to bump the door open.

Jungkook’s fingers were interlocked with yours as you both made your way up the drive. You looked at him cautiously, wondering if there was anything running through his mind. You wondered if he felt anything. Garçon seemed to be able to feel worry and happiness... But animals were much less complex than human beings.

Did Jungkook feel worry and joy? Did he feel safe with you?

It was all so new, and you’d have to discover it together.

You hoped Jungkook would adapt well, but you’re not off to a great start. Running off after seeing a little bit of blood and almost killing himself again after just coming back to life wasn’t what you considered a win. But, he was back here now. And now you could start to figure him out.

Getting Jungkook in the house proved to be the easiest part of the evening.

You didn’t know that water would terrify the man to the point of trembling in the corner of your bathroom. Trying to coax him into the warm water was even more difficult than trying to keep him in the same room as it. He definitely didn’t like the fire underneath the basin that was heating it for him either.

“Jungkook please come here,” you said, pointing towards the tub with an annoyed look.

“N-No,” he defied you, shaking his head.

“Jungkook now, you aren’t going to stay in those filthy clothes covered in dirt! I won’t allow it!” you warned.

“No!”

Rolling your eyes you tried to think of how to get him into the bathtub. “Jungkook?” you asked, sitting on the floor near the bathtub. He peeked at you warily, keeping himself close to the wall.

You began to crawl towards him, smiling softly as you extended your hand towards him. Jungkook looked at your hand and smooshed himself against the wall harder, making his face contort in a hilarious way. You couldn’t hold the laughter that burst from you at his expression.

Jungkook’s eyebrows raised as he watched you laugh.

“Hee hee hee,” Jungkook mimicked. You tilted your head at his observation.

“You made me laugh, Jungkook. Because you were silly,” you smiled.

“N-no, Juuungkoook,” he said, pointing at himself. “N-n-no Sillllly,” he shook his head.

“No no, Jungkook. You aren’t named silly, you were just acting silly. Like this,” you demonstrated, smooshing your face with your hands like he had against the wall. Jungkook watched your face move into a goofy appearance and he let loose a couple involuntary giggles of his own.

You once more reached out for him, offering your hand to see if he would bite this time. He stared down at your skin, then back up to your eyes before giving you his hand. Carefully, you pulled him forward, towards the bath. Jungkook followed, letting you lead him where you wanted.

Having him stand up, you helped him disrobe. You flushed when you saw the attractive male's chest. You had never seen a man in this state of bareness.You averted your eyes as Jungkook lowered his pants. For just being reanimated, he seemed to know how to undress himself.

It was the little victories right now. You helped him get into the water. He sat down, letting it envelope him entirely. Watching him carefully, you smiled as he let a little sigh out of his pouty mouth. Just as he seemed to be relaxing, you noticed he was almost getting a little too comfortable. You gasped when he let his head go under the water.

“Jungkook, no!” you yelped, reaching in to grab under his shoulders. He came back up, looking at you with raised eyebrows.

“No?” he asked, looking at the water with a huff.

“No, if you do that you can hurt yourself,” you warned, grabbing the soap to start washing his hair.

“No,” he confirmed, nodding his head. Chuckling to yourself you started to lather the soap and run it through his hair. Jungkook leaned back into your hands, making soft sounds of approval.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, grabbing a cloth to wash his shoulders with.

“Mmm, go-od,” he confirmed.

“I’m glad,” you said, wiping the dirt and dried blood of his body. You winced when you peeked through the water to see his stomach. It was just starting to heal, something you noticed he had been capable of. There were small cuts on him last night that weren’t there any longer.

Perhaps he had a form of accelerated healing due to the reanimation?

You’d find that out later, for now what mattered was cleaning him up.

Jungkook splashed the water around a little bit, blowing at the soap bubbles that formed around his skin. You watched and laughed when he was goofy, behaving more like a young child.

When you finished washing his hair, you tapped his shoulder. He gazed up at you with bright eyes, ones that left you reeling for a few moments. Your heart constricted in your chest as he looked at you with such adoration in his eyes you didn’t think it was possible.

“No?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. You brought yourself from your thoughts before giving him a reassuring smile.

“It’s alright, just need to wash your face. Come here,” you encouraged, having him turn around to face you. Jungkook leaned towards you, letting you wipe his face with the warm cloth.

His eyes closed as he relaxed into your hands. It was so rewarding to have him like this. Safe, warm and happy in your hands. You wanted him to feel like this all the time.

But there was a long road ahead.

You needed to know what Jungkook still knew how to do, what he remembered, and if there was any chance of him regaining that lost knowledge. You could tell that his vocalizations needed work. It appeared that he could understand you a little, but wasn’t able to express his feelings towards what you wanted or what he needed.

Although, it would come with time. He needed to get adjusted, and perhaps once he did memories and things of the like would return as well.

“Good,” Jungkook murmured. You brushed his hair away from his face and smiled.

“Good,” you confirmed.

The follow days were hard.

Jungkook wasn’t good at communicating, and it was difficult for you to understand what he needed.

It started with trying to get him to remember small things.

‘Do you remember your family?’

‘No.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Juuungkooook.’

‘What did you like to do?’

‘No.’

It all became very repetitive. Jungkook didn’t remember much of anything. Jungkook only knew about seven or eight words. Jungkook, Angel, Silly, Good, No and Pain.

Whenever he liked something or enjoyed something, he’d answer good.

If you made a weird noise, or did something out of the ordinary he’d say silly.

If Jungkook didn’t understand or wasn’t sure of something he’d say no.

And when he was upset, he’d say pain.

Jungkook had been trying very hard, because he wants to make you happy. At least, that’s what you thought anyways. He also had a problem with knowing his own strength. Many of your dishes and silverware had been the victim of his powerful hands.

But you weren’t going to give up on him. He needed you, and you were the reason he was like this. You had a responsibility to him, to make him better if you could.

Today you wanted to see if Jungkook could read. You wondered if he remembered any kind of books from the Lunar Isles. So, you brought out a book about Moon Lilies.

Walking down the stairs you heard Jungkook laughing. No doubt at Garçon, who had taken to him quickly. They were the same in a way. Experiencing life after death, and they had a common friend in you.

You smiled as you reached the kitchen, seeing Jungkook throw Garçon’s toy to have him bring it back. “Good!” he announced, patting Garcon on the head.

“Jungkook?” you asked, coming around the corner and setting the book you selected for him on the kitchen table.

“Angel!” he yelled.

“Jungkook, are you having fun with Garçon?” you asked, looking at the pair with fondness.

“Good!” he nodded, patting Garçon on the head once more.

“Good,” you confirmed. “I want to try something, would you like to try something new?” you asked.

“Nnnnnn,” Jungkook tried, squinting at your lips as you said the last word.

“New,” you said slow, waiting for him to repeat.

“Nnneeewwww,” he said, exaggerating his face to mimic yours. You nodded and clapped.

“That’s right, new!” you said.

“No,” Jungkook pouted.

“Now, Jungkook,” you admonished. “We need to try new things.”

“No, Angel,” Jungkook said.

“Oh yes, Jungkook. Here,” you said, handing him the book.

Jungkook looked at it for a moment before running his hands over the front cover. You watched with rapt attention. He turned it over in his hands, sniffing it for a brief moment which worried you a little. Jungkook had taken a bite of Hemlock when you showed it to him for the first time, making you panic.

Good thing is, Jungkook wasn’t affected.

Peeling the front cover back, Jungkook touched the paper. He rubbed it, making it ripple and move. His eyes widened, moving the paper quickly back and forth until it ripped. You frowned, not wanting him to destroy your things. “Jungkook, no,” you said, holding his hand.

He looked at you then to the book. “No?”

“No, you don’t want to rip it,” you said, pointing at the rip in the paper. Jungkook pointed at it with you.

“No,” he said to the rip.

“That’s right, no,” you stated. He nodded before turning the pages slowly. He peered at the words with confusion, until he hit the picture of the Moon Lily. It was all over his hometown, so you hoped this would spring some sort of reaction in him.

Jungkook patted the picture, as if he was trying to get it out of the page. “Good,” Jungkook whispered. “L-Lily.”

“That’s right!” you praised, holding his face. “That’s a Moon Lily,” you encouraged.

“Good?” he asked, smiling brightly.

“So good, Jungkook!”

A knock came to your door and you turned harshly. No doubt another customer coming to seek a remedy. You looked at Jungkook and smiled softly.

“Just stay here, okay? I’ll be right back,” you said, standing up and moving towards the door.

You opened it, and to your surprise... Yoongi and Namjoon stood before you. You raised an eyebrow at both of them before stepping outside. “Good morning, gentleman,” you greeted.

“Y/N,” Yoongi acknowledged. “We’re here to ask you a few questions.”

“About?” you wondered.

“Do you know anything about the disappearance of a young man named Jeon Jungkook?” Namjoon questioned.

Your blood ran cold. Why would they be looking for him?

“The Lunar Isles is asking for aid in helping to locate the betrothed of the Mayor’s Daughter. Jeon Jungkook apparently was coming to you in search for a remedy for his father. But he hasn’t been seen in almost two months,” Yoongi stated.

“I-uh, I’m sure I have no idea. I see a lot of people,” you said casually. Or what you hoped was casual.

“Yes, we’re aware of that. But, there’s been search parties and not even a body has turned up. Surely we would’ve found something by now. So, we were wondering if you’d seen him, or at the very least heard of him?” Namjoon asked.

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” you coughed. “But, I’m sure if I see him or hear of him I’ll let you know.”

Yoongi and Namjoon looked at one another before nodding. “Y/N, if you do hear something... Please let us know, the Lunar Isles is rather upset that the pride and joy of their town has gone missing. They’re blaming us for his disappearance. I heard from Seokjin that they are threatening to cut off trade if no news of the young man comes in. So please, if you do hear anything... Come find us, alright?” Yoongi asked.

You nodded firm. “Absolutely, if I hear, see or smell something you’ll be the first to know,” you offered.

The men smiled at you before waving their farewells.

Your heart thudded dangerously against your chest. Jungkook, was engaged to be married to the Mayor’s daughter? Surely not, he was just a simple merchants son... But that didn’t make sense with the house his family was living in.

It was large and spacious, not something a merchant would be able to afford... Then it hit you. Jungkook must’ve agreed to marry the Mayor’s daughter to provide for his family. And when they couldn’t find a cure for his father...

Oh God, what had you done?

Hurrying back inside you leaned against the door, feeling the anxiety swallowing you whole. What were you to do? You couldn’t return Jungkook to them in this state. He barely was able to hold a sentence, let alone pass off for someone who hadn’t died and been brought back to life.

And once they knew what you had done... No doubt you’d be killed for your disgusting act of science. Even though it brought Jungkook back, even though you saved him you would still be punished. It would be seen as reversing God’s work. And that would no doubt bring death’s scythe upon your head.

“Angel?” Jungkook asked, coming around the corner to look at you.

Looking into his face you knew.

He had no idea what was wrong. He was innocent in this whole matter, it was all your fault. And he was now suffering because of what you had done. Because you decided to rewrite fate. It wasn’t your decision to make. Your father had been wrong to do it all those years ago, and you were even more disgusting for continuing to do his bidding after his death.

Jungkook being stood here before you was a mistake... But you didn’t want him to die. He seemed too lost and afraid while he laid in your lap that night. And during these past weeks, he’d been trying so hard to please you. To make you happy, and he wasn’t sure why he was doing either. You felt tears burn in your eyes as you looked at the man before you. “Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, bringing him into your arms to hold him. “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you, something you’d taught him to do. “Angel... Pain?” he asked, keeping hold of you.

“Yes Jungkook,” you nodded, crying into his shoulder.

“No... No pain angel,” he whispered.

“I need to fix this,” you breathed, holding his face in your hands. You smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks, taking in his beauty. “I have to make this right.”

That night you look up at the stars and wonder if you could do it. Could you destroy the one thing that had been bringing you joy and happiness in your pointless existence?

Jungkook had been doing well over the last few days. Starting to learn more words, figuring out how to use utensils once again. He even managed to eat something!

He didn’t need to, obviously. But he still seemed to enjoy it. Because now he kept asking for food.

‘Angel? Food now?’

He and Garçon were so close, you felt like he was Jungkook’s best friend. They played together in the yard, yipping and laughing. Garçon was good for Jungkook, because he reminded Jungkook to be gentle. Especially when it came to you. Garçon was so keyed into your reactions, he’d nip or nudge Jungkook when he was getting a little too rough.

And Jungkook was learning.

He was beginning to speak more. Smiling at you with those adorable teeth and a giggle that made you feel like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Everything he did was something new.

He’d learned to be gentle with books, not ripping them when he peered at the pages. You weren’t sure if he could read, but he seemed to like the feeling of the pages between his fingers. You often found him in your library, perusing the shelves just to feel the spines of your books.

And he loved baths. More specifically, he loved you washing his hair. Each time you did he seemed like a little cat, purring and trying to get you to continue your movements as the water cooled underneath him. He would sit in the water for hours if you let him, just to have you play with his hair.

It made your heart hurt. You felt so much guilt eating you up inside each day that you got to see Jungkook smile, to watch him learn new things. It wasn’t for you to see. He was supposed to be decaying in a forest right now... But you couldn’t let nature run its course. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be the passerby, the witness to a tragedy that everyone must face.

No, you intervened and you were being punished for it. The guilt and shame you felt each day, knowing Jungkook’s parents were waiting in agony for their son to return. You were being so incredibly selfish. Keeping Jungkook here for yourself. He wasn’t yours to keep, he wasn’t like Garçon...

He had a life before you. A life that was to end in the forest. And yet, you wouldn’t allow it.

The Lunar Isles were now becoming a serious threat for Solstice. Hoseok had informed you that they had recently been cut off from shipments of wine for Jin’s tavern. A house specialty that had brought many a patron.

And the lumber from the Isles was also getting siphoned. Taehyung said that he wasn’t getting enough work, so he had to double up and help at the stables to afford enough to eat.

So many people were beginning to suffer, because you couldn’t let him go... You couldn’t release the sweet boy who burrowed his way into your lonely heart. The one you were so desperate not to have, now filled with a light that shouldn’t be there.

You began to wonder if you truly could let Jungkook go?

Should you do it?

Dare you do it?

Looking to your vanity you saw your father’s hunting knife sat there. You had brought it out a few days ago to help with a new dress fastener that you had purchased. However, should it serve a different purpose?

Walking over to it you gazed at the grooves and worn metal. Would it be enough? You’d never thought about killing Garçon before, but certainly they could be killed again...

You had to make it right.

He wasn’t supposed to be alive right now, you didn’t deserve the joy he was bringing you. It was wrong, so wrong for you to feel elated when he smiled at you. When he held you in his arms... His strong arms that still clutched you a little too tight.

But it wasn’t his fault.

He’s doing everything that he can, and you are considering to take everything away from him... Even though he’s just getting it all back again? Do you have the right to fix your mistake?

Taking the knife, you slowly walked towards Jungkook’s bedroom. Even though he was reanimated, you noticed him and Garçon both needed sleep still. The air in the hallway was still, and you heard the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears as you stood outside his door.

Opening the old oaken paneling slowly, you moved inside his room. Jungkook was laying in his bed, moonlight shining on his skin. He looked so at peace...

Approaching his bed, you found your hands shaking. Tears were running down your cheeks and you couldn’t stop them. You didn’t want to hurt Jungkook. You cared about him so much, and you knew that this was going to be for the best. And if this was going to be the only way, then so be it...

Touching his face gently, you cradled his cheek in your palm. His skin was warm to the touch, proving his life. And soon his blood would run cold. Trembling you brought the knife to his neck, your vision blurring because of the tears.

Jungkook flinched in his sleep, but remained still.

You began to push down a little harder, when Jungkook shifted slightly. You froze your movements and kept your eyes trained on him. A soft smile made its way to his face, he must be dreaming about something. “Angel...” he said, body relaxing even further.

In that moment you knew you could never hurt this man...

Looking at the knife to his neck you cried and threw it on the ground. Jungkook groggily looked up at you, eyes fluttering open. He recognized you and his eyes turned worried. “A-Angel, pain?” he asked, sitting up.

You threw your arms around him, holding him close to your body. “I’m so sorry Jungkook, I can’t do it,” you cried. “I can’t hurt you. I never could.”

Jungkook tilted his head and nestled it into the crook of your neck. He brought his arms to your hips, rubbing his thumbs into your skin. Even though it was rough, you shivered at the contact and couldn’t help the flutter that occurred in your heart.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and made you lay down, keeping your body close to his. As you fell asleep next to him, you made a promise to yourself.

That you were going to make Jungkook human again. And you were going to give him back to his family...

And you were certain it would kill you.

The following days and weeks proceeded slowly.

Namjoon and Yoongi came by again, asking if you’d seen the location of Jungkook or heard any rumors of the man’s whereabouts. You lied once more, saying you hadn’t seen him or heard anything about him.

All the while, the very man sat in your room playing with Garçon.

Lying to the people you’d grown so attached to in your life made you sick, but it was necessary. If they took Jungkook now, they certainly kill him. He wasn’t ready yet.

You were seated in your study, looking through your ledger for this month. The gold certainly wasn't flowing as it had in previous months. The Lunar Isles were cutting trade with Solstice left right and center, making it difficult for people to afford your treatments. Times were dark, and you worried for how long you could keep Jungkook a secret before people started to get severely hurt.

“Angel, look!” Jungkook announced, coming around the corner into your study with Garçon hot on his heels. Being pulled from your thoughts you turned away from the window to smile at him.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Made this... for you,” he tried, holding up a picture. You came forward and looked at the drawing.

It was a beautiful sketch, one starring you.

You were sitting out in the front yard, hair down and blowing in the wind. Garcon was next to you, laying in your lap as you peered of into the distance. You thought back and remembered it was just a few days ago this had taken place.

But you thought Jungkook had gone to take a bath at that time...

“Jungkook... This is incredible,” you praised.

“Good? You like?” he asked, biting his lip nervously.

“I love it, Jungkook,” you breathed, taking it from his hands. You smiled and set it right on your desk. “I’ll keep it here, so that way I remember this day and you forever.”

You knew it was a lie. Once you gave Jungkook back, they’d seize the house and everything in it. And the picture would be lost. But for now, for now it belonged to you. And it was a beautiful belonging to hold.

“Angel?” he asked, poking your cheek. “Being silly.”

“Oh, sorry Jungkook. Do you want something to eat?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes! Food Angel! Angel’s food!” he cheered. You rolled your eyes and walked down the stairs, heading towards the kitchen to start baking.

Jungkook’s favorite food of yours had quickly become steak with a small salad on the side. The boy could pack it in until you were certain his scar tissue would open up. But, he always patted his stomach and whispered for it to all stay in.

You prepped the meat and you felt warm arms wrap around your middle. You turned to see Jungkook looking down at the food with interest, head resting on your shoulder. “How?” he asked, looking at your hands work.

“Do you want to learn, Jungkook? I can teach you,” you said.

“Please?” he asked.

One thing you drilled into his head early on was manners. You weren’t going to give Jungkook back as a rude, privileged boy...

Moderately spoiled on the other hand...

You were certain he was before anyways.

At least, you hoped so.

Telling Jungkook the list of ingredients, he watched you work the knife with rapt attention. He was incredibly observant that sometimes it made you nervous. You always ate with more elegance, hoping that he would follow you. You treated things with the utmost care, hoping he’d mimic your behavior.

He was still a little rough, but Garçon was teaching him well.

“Angel?” Jungkook asked while you sliced the carrots and celery for the salad.

“Yes, Jungkook?” you responded, keeping your eyes focused.

“When can... When can I... outside?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You stiffened as his requested.

With Jungkook’s search continuing, you had told him he needed to stay inside. It wasn’t okay for him to be out where anyone could see him. Namjoon and Yoongi were around your house nearly every other day, asking about information.

They were becoming desperate in the Lunar Isles. The Mayor’s daughter had refused any other suitor her father brought her way. She wouldn’t give up until Jungkook’s body was recovered or he came home to her.

So, the trade deals had all be but shut off in the meantime.

Taehyung had lost his job at the mill, so he worked at the stables full time.

Jin had to shut down the tavern for three nights a week.

Namjoon and Yoongi were getting heat from your own town’s mayor, saying there were useless because they couldn’t even find a body for the young man.

You even tried to reason with the mayor, stating that perhaps some animals had come by and eaten the carcass. He refused that, however. Stating that the wolves in the surrounding area weren’t brave enough to come close to town.

Of course he wouldn’t listen to reason with the Lunar Isles practically threatening to go to war with him over one man. You couldn’t believe how out of control the whole situation had gotten. The Mayor’s unbelievable daughter, his response to her demands, and the effect that it had on your town.

“I’m sorry Jungkook, but you know it’s not safe outside. I need you in here with me,” you said, smiling softly.

“Need me?” he asked, looking at you.

“Yes, Jungkook. I need you here with me,” you said.

“Okay! I stay inside!” he said.

“Maybe we can have a picnic one day, hmm?” you asked, knowing that you’d never allow it to happen. But it wouldn’t hurt to give him some hope.

“What’s... picnic?” he asked.

“It’s where we take a blanket, and I make some food and we go outside and eat it out there,” you explained, watching as Jungkook’s eyes brightened at the idea.

“When picnic?” he asked, practically jumping up and down.

“Someday,” you promised.

“Picnic with Angel!” he yelled.

You shushed him before finishing the meal. You had him set the table, gathering the silverware and plates accordingly. Bringing the food over you set his plate up with plenty of everything.

Jungkook bounced in his chair, excited for the meal. You watched him set his book aside carefully, making sure that it wasn’t going to fall off of anything.

Jungkook had taken to reading a lot, recently. He was doing so much better at vocabulary and understanding the story, even though he couldn’t fully articulate what he wanted to say.

After a hard jolt of his knee against the table you chastised him.

“Easy baby,” you calmed. You then realized your mistake. A bright flush flew over your cheeks.

“What’s baby?” he asked.

“Um, it’s nothing Jungkook,” you tried to dodge his question.

“But Angel,” he whined. “Want to learn!” he complained.

“Jungkook, I said it was nothing,” you warned.

“Angel...” he pouted.

“Fine! Fine fine,” you acquiesced. “It’s a... term of endearment,” you explained.

“En-endear-mint?” he tried.

“No, endearment,” you stated. “It means to be something beloved or important. So, the term is one of affection.”

“Affection?” he tried.

“Yes, it means... Well... That I’m fond of you,” you reasoned.

“Angel like me?”

You almost spit out your drink, but you swallowed half of it, inhaling the other. You coughed loudly, making Jungkook rush over to your side.

“Angel!” he yelped, worried.

“It’s-okay,” you coughed. “I’m okay.”

“Angel,” he whined, holding your hand. “Scary.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you soothed, coughing a few more times before wiping your eyes. “I’m alright.”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you yet again. You found the man to be extremely clingy, hanging off of you at most times of the day. And when he did, you generally almost lost a rib or two.

“Ooh! Jungkook-ah!” you winced. Garçon growled in the corner, making Jungkook back off.

“Garçon mad?” he asked.

“Jungkook, I think your next lesson needs to be on how to be gentle with people,” you confirmed.

“Gentle?”

"Finish your food," you encouraged. At the thought of learning something new, Jungkook hurried to comply. You watched as he quickly ate all the food you put on his plate, smiling when he cleaned it off for you.

“Done Angel!” he beamed.

“Come upstairs,” you said, standing up. Jungkook nodded and took your hand, walking with you up the stairs.

Leading him into your parlor room, you had him sit down on the slipper sofa. He bounced on it a few times, smiling when his body jolted back up.

“Now, Jungkook,” you started, sitting next to him.

“Yes, Angel?” he asked.

“What is it called when I hold you like this?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck carefully.

“Hug! Hug Angel!” he said, squeezing you back.

“Oof,” you breathed harshly. “Jungkook,” you warned. He let go, albeit pouting the whole while.

“Jungkook bad, Angel?” he asked.

“No baby, not bad,” you shook your head. “You’re very strong, Jungkook. Stronger than me, that means you can hurt me.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows flew up at the word hurt. He knew it meant pain, and Jungkook didn’t want that. “No! No hurt Angel!”

You calmed him, rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs. “No baby, you don’t mean to. I know you don’t. But you need to learn to be careful with other people, otherwise they can get hurt.”

“No... No want hurt,” Jungkook whispered.

“I know Jungkook, I know,” you nodded. “Because you’re so good, Jungkook. But I’m going to show you gentle,” you stated.

“Gentle, good?” Jungkook asked for confirmation.

“Yes, Jungkook. Gentle is good,” you nodded. “Here, hold my hand.”

Jungkook looked at your outstretched palm and wrapped his hand around yours. You brought your hands to his and pointed out how loose he was holding on. That was gentle. You touched his face softly, saying it was gentle.

Calling Garçon in, you pet his head slow, making sure Jungkook watched.

“See, this is gentle, now you try,” you said, moving Jungkook’s hand to Garçon’s head. He followed your hand, brushing along his fur slowly. Garçon grumbled in approval, leaning into Jungkook’s hand.

“Gentle,” Jungkook repeated.

“Yes, now try on me,” you said, turning to face him.

“Gentle,” he breathed, placing his hand on yours. You nodded, placing his hand on your cheek. Jungkook moved his hand around the skin there, watching as a pink blush moved to your cheek.

“That’s good, Jungkook,” you approved.

“Pink,” he said, poking your cheek with his finger.

“Blushing,” you explained.

“Me too?” he asked, pointing to his face.

“No, Jungkook,” you answered.

“Why?” he asked.

“It’s because... Well...” you bit your lip, looking at your lap. Honestly, you were embarrassed by this whole ordeal. But if Jungkook didn’t learn how to be careful with others, then he would be in serious danger. You also knew that Jungkook would regret hurting anyone. He hating seeing others in pain or people upset.

Especially you.

“It’s because you make me happy, Jungkook.”

“Want to blush!” Jungkook demanded.

“Baby you can’t just-”

“Angel make Jungkook happy!”

“I know, but you don’t... You don’t understand why I’m happy,” you flushed once more.

‘I’m happy because you’re touching me. I’m happy because I get to be here with you, and to see you each day. You make me so happy I can hardly contain myself. I want to kiss you, hold you, share everything I am with you... But you can’t ever know that...’

“Angel make me blush!”

“Jungkook,” you tutted. “We’re learning how to be gentle.”

“Want to learn how to blush!”

“No, Jungkook. Gentle first,” you stated.

“Gentle,” he sighed. “Okay.”

“Now, try to hug me. Gently,” you said.

Jungkook nodded and leaned forward, placing his hands around your waist, pulling you into his body. Although, instead of feeling like you were going to pop like a grape... You just felt safe, protected in his strong arms. Jungkook kept ahold of you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Gentle, Angel?” he asked.

“Yes, Jungkook. Very gentle,” you confirmed.

“Angel teach blush now?” he asked.

“Goodness you’re persistent!” you stated, moving away from his embrace.

“Blush!”

“Alright, hold on,” you bit your lip.

Carefully, you placed a soft kiss to his cheek. You peeked an eye open, and Jungkook’s face was red as a tomato.

“Oh! Jungkook!” you said, placing your cool hands on his cheeks.

“A-Angel,” he whispered. “What that?” he asked.

“You’re blushing,” you wavered.

“No... Cheek touch?” he asked.

“U-Um... That’s called a kiss, Jungkook,” you whispered.

“Want another,” he said.

“Jungkook-”

“Angel kiss,” he asked.

“Okay, okay!” you relented, placing another soft kiss to his cheek.

“Good,” he said, smiling. “Jungkook like kiss.”

“Well, that’s good,” you nodded, blushing hard once more.

“Angel blush,” he said, placing his hand on your cheek.

“Y-Yes, I’m blushing,” you said.

“Angel happy?”

“Yes, Jungkook... I’m happy.”

“Jungkook happy too.”

And that’s all that mattered.

You really shouldn’t have taught Jungkook what a kiss was.

Because now he wanted them all the time.

“Angel, kiss!” he’d ask when you’d wash his hair. You’d kiss his head and he’d giggle like a boy with his crush. But your heart fluttered in your chest each time you gave in and kissed him. You began to look forward to when he asked, and then you were doing it without him asking... This was dangerous. You shouldn’t be giving him this much affection. Because eventually, you were going to have to leave him.

As much as it pained you, you knew that you couldn’t keep him with you forever. Jungkook had even stopped sleeping in his own room, coming into your bed during the night and holding on to you.

He claimed he slept better with you, and he would be sad if you didn’t let him stay. Obviously at first you told him no, and then he would ask why. You simply explained that it wasn’t proper for people who weren’t married to share a bed.

Of course then he asked you to marry him, and you had to go off on a tangent about marriage... It all became taxing to an extent, but you always smiled because it meant Jungkook was learning something new everyday.

But, then Jungkook started asking about other things...

One day you were stood in the kitchen, making porridge for breakfast when Jungkook set his book down on the table in front of him.

“Angel, what is... Uh... French kiss?” he asked, raising his eyebrow at you.

“What do you mean?” you flushed, stirring the pot of oats before you with renewed vigor.

“You’re blushing!” he squeaked. “Happy?”

“Where did you hear about French Kisses?” you asked, trying to calm your flaming cheeks.

“In book,” he said, pointing to a romance novel on the table.

Just your luck he would pick that one.

“Well, you can read about it then,” you huffed, looking down at your pot full of food. Heart heavy with sadness, you set the spoon down. Jungkook was almost ready to be sent back... His sentences were much better, careful with people, and most importantly...

You needed to give him away before you couldn’t stand to let him go...

“No, Angel! I need help!” he whined.

“Jungkook, I’m not teaching you about that,” you said, cutting the conversation there.

“But Angel-”

“No Jungkook,” you said.

“Then I’ll go outside,” he huffed.

“Don’t you dare!” you growled. Jungkook smirked.

“Then show me french kiss!”

“Jungkook this isn’t a joke,” you warned.

“French kiss, or outside,” he said, heading towards the door. The both of you knew that if he wanted to go outside there wasn’t anything you could do to stop him. He knew his strength and he could easily overpower you.

“Jungkook you get back here right now!” you demanded.

“Outside or french kiss, outside or-”

“Fine! Fine fine fine, get over here,” you winced. Jungkook smiled and trotted back to you happily. “You’re such a little brat.”

“Angel, french kiss!” he said.

“Close your eyes,” you said, swallowing hard. Jungkook did so, standing in front of you. Before you lost your courage, you leaned up slowly and placed your lips on his. Jungkook stiffened, opening his eyes to look at you.

But the longer you gently kissed his mouth, he relaxed and shut his eyes once more... You did the same, folding your arms around his neck.

His mouth was soft, gentle against your own. You felt your toes tingle at the sensation of being this close to him. You knew this was wrong, oh God was it wrong... But you couldn’t help it. You wanted this so badly.

The boy you brought back had become someone you cared for so deeply that you couldn’t even believe it yourself. He made you smile, he gave you a purpose. Jungkook was so kind, so sweet and willing to learn. He was curious, and outgoing. He had such a courageous spirit. Wanting to do everything and anything he could.

You admired him so much...

You also adored the smiles you shared over meals. You longed to hear his feet patter down the stairs in the morning to meet you for breakfast. The laughs you had while he bathed. How he gave you all of himself, everyday. How he was so unapologetically himself with you. Because he didn’t have to be anyone else for you to love him as much as you did.

You didn’t want anyone else but him.

Jungkook’s hands rested on your waist, pulling you closer. Your eye popped open at the motion, making you seperate your lips from his.

“Angel!” Jungkook whined. “More~”

“No, Jungkook stop,” you said, placing your hand on his chest.

“French kisses have tongues, that’s what book said” he said, licking his lips. “How do we do that?”

“Jungkook we should stop-”

“Kiss more, Angel,” he breathed moving down to capture your lips once more when you placed your hands against his lips. You giggled at his expression before shaking your head.

“Jungkook, only lovers should be doing this kind of thing,” you stated.

“Lovers? What are those?” he asked. You mentally cursed yourself, letting another intimate detail slip.

“Uh... Lovers are people who are in love,” you stated lamely.

They were, you weren’t wrong.

“What is love?”

Well shit.

“Um, love is... Well, that’s kind of a weighted question Jungkook. Because it’s different for everybody,” you said.

“Tell me,” he urged. “Want to know.”

“Well... What I think love is... Is when you care about someone, a lot. When you’re not with them, you’re thinking about them... When you’re together, you want to talk about things that make you happy. When you’re with them, you feel like another part of you is there again... You feel complete when the person you love is with you. Because when you love someone, you want to be with them all of the time. Love is caring and being with someone despite their flaws and their misgivings... Love, is one of the most powerful emotions out there.”

“Angel... I... I love-”

BAAAMM!

Your door slammed in.

You and Jungkook jumped, looking at the entryway to see floods of people entering your home.

“Y/N! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR THE KIDNAPPING OF JEON JUNGKOOK OF THE LUNAR ISLES!” Yoongi yelled.

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you protectively. “Angel?” he asked, looking at you.

Oh God, they knew... How did they know? How was anyone able to figure it out?? You had been so incredibly careful.

“Yoongi, Namjoon wait please-”

“Please come forward, we don’t want to hurt you Y/N,” Namjoon warned.

A few other guards were at their back, ones that had the Lunar Isles crest on their arms. They were here, because of Jungkook...

“Please understand, I didn’t kidnap him!” you pleaded.

“Y/N, we want to believe you, but all this time he’s been here with you... While his family and fiance are worried about him... It doesn’t look good,” Yoongi warned.

“I didn’t kidnap him,” you pleaded. “I-I had to...”

“Come on, Y/N, we need to take you to the jail,” Namjoon said. “Let him go.”

Jungkook looked at you, fear in his eyes. “Angel,” he whispered.

“Jungkook, be gentle. Don’t hurt anyone, alright? Be good,” you said. “I have to go.”

“No, Angel stay!” he whimpered, tears forming in his eyes.

“I can’t Jungkook, I was wrong to keep you,” you frowned. “But I couldn’t help it... Because you didn’t deserve what happened to you... I had to help you. I’m sorry.”

“Angel,” he cried softly. “Stay.”

“I can’t stay, Jungkook you need to go home,” you said, wiping his tears away. However, your own were quickly falling as well.

“Home is Angel,” he stated, looking into your eyes with such agony you couldn’t bear it.

“Your home is with your family, not with me... I took you away from them,” you explained.

“No,” Jungkook shook his head, wrapping his arms around you. “Home is Angel.”

“Y/N, we have to go,” Yoongi warned.

“Behave Jungkook, don’t hurt anyone. Be gentle...”

Stepping out of his arms you felt your heart shatter as you walked towards Namjoon’s frame. Yoongi quickly fastened wooden cuffs around your wrists to keep you from moving. You winced and hissed in pain, making Jungkook furious.

“Angel!” he bellowed, moving forward, knocking over a few kitchen chairs in his wake.

“Restrain him,” Namjoon ordered, pulling you back.

“No don’t! He doesn’t know! He won’t hurt anyone!” you declared.

You watched as four or five men struggled to keep Jungkook at bay, your heart shattering as they held him still while you were pulled away from him.

“Angel! Please!” he cried, pulling against their hold. “Ow!” he winced.

“Stop! Stop don’t hurt him please! Please, Namjoon please,” you begged, looking at your friend.

You could see the pain in his eyes as well. You looked to Yoongi who held a similar expression. They didn’t want to do this to you. They knew you weren’t doing it to hurt anyone, but they had to do their duty. You had lied, and this was your punishment for doing so. There wasn’t anything your friends could do for you now.

“Angel! Angel stay!”

You felt your throat burning as you were dragged away from Jungkook’s cries. Garçon whimpered on the doorstep, looking at you for guidance.

“Stay with Jungkook! Garçon!”

You were pulled along your driveway, hearing the one you cared for most cry out your name. Pleading for you to stay with him...

You knew this day was coming...

You just didn’t want it to be today...

Or tomorrow...

Or the next day...

The stone floor of your cell was frigid against your skin.

You’d been thrown in here a few hours prior, being left with your thoughts. You wanted Jungkook, and wondered if he was alright... Had they taken him back to the Lunar Isles? Was he with his family? You hoped he was happy with them...

Was he excited to marry that girl?

Jealousy burned in your veins at the thought of him holding another woman. Asking her to kiss him. However, the jealousy was soon replaced with shame. You had no right to be jealous, he wasn’t yours. Jungkook didn’t belong to you, but you belonged to him... he just didn’t know it.

Your wrists ached from the weight of the cuffs around them. But all you cared about was Jungkook. He’s all that mattered in your mind at the moment.

You longed to see him, his cute smile and bright eyes. It was his bath night, he no doubt would be pulling you up the stairs at this moment, saying it was time for Angel to wash his hair.

A small sob came from you as you imagined the scene...

Him sitting in the water, playing with the bubbles. You’d tell him to quit moving, otherwise he’d get soap in his eyes. Jungkook hated getting soap in his eyes, it made him so frustrated. But the water made him happy, he couldn’t help but bounce around in it. He had so much energy, it was almost unreal.

He’d argue for more time in the water, even though his skin was starting to prune. You’d tell him to quit being a little brat and to get out. Jungkook would listen, like he always did. But, he’d pout about it for a few minutes. Of course you’d offer to make him something to drink before he went to bed, something he’d always agree to.

The forced exit of the bath would be long forgotten.

His feet would fly down the stairs, you’d yell after him to tell him he was just in a towel. You’d chase him down and throw his clothes in his face. He’d begin to strip in the front room, making you shriek and turn quickly to avoid a show.

You’d feel warm arms wrap around you, Jungkook’s head settling on your shoulder.

‘Angel... Cocoa?’ he’d ask.

You’d always say yes, hurrying over to the stove to warm some milk for him. Yawning as you pulled the liquid from the heat and putting the cocoa powder in his drink would make Jungkook smile. You’d set the drink down in front of him, warning Jungkook of its heat.

He’d never listen, always yelping when the scalding liquid touched his tongue.

‘Jungkook be careful,’ you stated, sipping your own drink.

He’d nod and apologize, taking it slower. You’d ask him about what book he had finished. Jungkook would brighten as he would tell you the tale. Sometimes he struggled to find the words and you’d help, giving him your full attention.

‘Then, the father did... uh... word?’ he asked.

‘Saved? Is that it?’ you’d ask.

‘Yeah! He saved daughter! Everyone is happy,’ Jungkook would gush.

He loved stories that ended happily. He wanted to read about the family getting back together, the man finding his true power within himself, the dog getting the bone he wanted. Anything that ended where the people were at peace, it was all Jungkook cared about.

You had asked him about his family, to see if he remembered them at all. He explained that he does remembered them, but not their faces or names.

‘I-I know face, but not name,’ he had told you one morning after breakfast.

‘You don’t remember your mother or father then? Do you miss them?’

‘Yes, but don’t know why I miss,’ he said. ‘Just miss.’

Tears were flowing down your face freely as you thought of the man you had come to love... There wasn’t any point trying to deny it when you knew you did. It was improper to feel such a way for him, but you had long accepted your fate...

“Y/N?” a voice echoed from the hallway.

You turned quickly to see Taehyung, eyes glassy as he approached your cell.

“Taehyung!” you yelped, grabbing the bars.

He looked at you frantically, reaching in to touch your face. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “This is my fault.”

“Taehyung what do you mean?” you asked, looking at him with confusion. What part of this was his fault?

“I-I was the one who told them you had Jungkook... I saw you two, hugging through your window one morning. I came by to, to ask you out for breakfast and... he matched the description they had been advertising around town. The Lunar Isles cut off trade with us, and only his return was going to end that! I lost my job at the mill, my mother and father are weak, they can’t work... The stables isn’t enough money to support them... But putting you in here feels so wrong, Y/N, you shouldn’t be here,” Taehyung confessed.

“Taehyung,” you breathed.

He’d told. He used you to get money back in his own wallet. You knew that this was going to be your fate when you refused to kill Jungkook... But to have someone you trusted, someone you had loved at one point turn you over for coins... It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Y/N, please understand I didn’t have a choice!” he declared.

“Why are you here, Taehyung?” you asked, voice cold. Taehyung winced at your tone, but swallowed regardless.

“I wanted to visit you, Yoongi and Namjoon told me I could,” he explained. “I wanted to apologize to you.”

“You’ve apologized,” you informed him.

“I-I know,” he breathed.

“Then you don’t have anymore business with a criminal like me, do you?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Y/N, that’s not fair,” he stated.

“It’s not fair,” you scoffed. “Was it fair when you stood me up for our meal? Was it fair that my mother died and my father went insane from grief? Is it fair that I was ripped away from the one thing that had given my life meaning since his passing... Learn something from me right now, Taehyung. Life. Isn’t. Fair.”

He sighed and stood, knowing trying to sooth your anger was moot. As he moved to walk away, he turned to face you once more. “They are to give you your verdict in the morning, in front of the whole town... I-I hope you’re prepared for whatever could happen.”

“I am.”

With that, Taehyung left, leaving you on the cold floor to think of what could have been...

You stood, hands bound before a crowd of people. A jury was to your left, Namjoon and Yoongi behind you. The people of Solstice were dead silent. Someone who had cared so deeply about them, was now ahead of them to be charged as a criminal.

A passerby would be able to hear a pin drop, even with the crowd.

“Miss Y/N, you stand here before jury to face judgement for your crimes against the people of Solstice and the people of the Lunar Isles,” Yoongi spoke, voice wavering.

“We announce... Mr. Carlisle Devereaux and his daughter Luna Devereaux... Along with her fiance and victim of these crimes, Jeon Jungkook,” Namjoon declared.

Jungkook? He was here?

Looking through the crowd you found Jungkook being held tightly by Luna. She was glaring at you with eyes so vicious you wondered if you’d be struck dead just from the sight. Jungkook seemed panicked as he looked at you, but something was holding him back. You knew the look in his eyes.

He was in pain.

They were hurting him to keep him in place, to keep him from moving.

“No,” you whispered.

“You stand here on trial, how do you plead?” the Jury asked.

“What is the crime?” you breathed.

“Kidnapping and lying to the people of Solstice and the Lunar Isles,” the Jury stated.

“I plead not guilty for Kidnapping, I plead guilty for lying,” you announced.

“These crimes are not exclusive to one another, you either plead guilty or not guilty,” a large man in the front declared.

“The crimes are exclusive, I did not kidnap anyone... However, I did lie when I was asked if I knew his whereabouts,” you answered. “Jungkook was injured and I had to nurse him back to health. If anyone interfered with the care, it could’ve been disastrous... He could have died,” you stated.

You weren’t lying completely.

Half truths.

“If you lied once, who is to say you aren’t lying now!” a woman towards the back screamed at you.

“We are going to assume you plead guilty,” the Mayor declared from the back on his podium.

“Hold on! That’s not fair!” a man shouted from the crowd. You soon saw it was Seokjin. A wave of relief fell over you. “These are two different crimes! You can’t just assume her plea! That’s a crime in that of itself!”

“Seize him,” the mayor yelled. Guards came in from the side, taking his arms and pulling him towards the jail. “He will be arrested for obstruction of justice.”

“Please!” you screamed. “Stop, he isn’t doing anything wrong. Let him go, I plead guilty!”

“And what are you guilty of?”

Taking a deep breath you looked directly at Jungkook. “I’m guilty of being a woman of science... I’m guilty of challenging fate. I’m guilty of loving someone, whom I didn't have the right to love... But I loved him anyways. I’m guilty of being a woman, with a weak heart, who couldn’t sit by and watch a young man die alone,” you said, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Jungkook struggled against Luna’s arm. She adjusted something, making Jungkook squirm in pain from the action. Your heart thudded against your chest so hard you were certain your ribs would crack. Someone was hurting him, and you couldn’t make them stop.

“Very well. Since you are so keen on lying, we will give you a liars punishment. Miss Y/N, the jury here today convicts you of kidnapping, as well as lying to the people of Solstice and the Lunar Isles... And most importantly, you are convicted of lying on trial. In light of your several crimes towards our two towns... I sentence you to hang until dead tomorrow morning at dawn.”

The crowd gasped, looking at their Mayor with shock. The jury didn’t even give him their verdict, he simply decided your fate for himself. The Mayor of Solstice was a power hungry man who had fought tooth and nail to be in the position he is now. He had done many despicable things in order to achieve his rank... And his cruelty was known throughout the lands.

You felt your knees wobble as you collapsed to the ground heavily. You could see your friends faces in the crowd, eyes filling with tears.

Jungkook fought against his restraints, trying to move away from Luna... But he was unable.

“ANGEL! NO!” he screamed. The crowd looked at him, then to the Mayor with a questioning look. You watched Jungkook get tugged back into place, and you smiled as you saw Garçon right by his side. Exactly where you told him to be.

“The verdict has been spoken, take her to her cell,” the Mayor demanded.

Namjoon grabbed you gently. “Y/N, stand up, easy... There you go,” he cooed, helping you walk towards the jailhouse.

Jungkook’s voice rang in your head.

People came in to say their farewells...

Taehyung, eyes filled with tears, blaming himself for the whole ordeal. You simply stared at him with broken eyes, ones that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Hoseok came in too, holding your face through the bars.

“Y/N, what were you thinking? Why didn’t you challenge the verdict! You had the right!” Hoseok yelped.

“Hoseok, do you really think the Mayor of the Lunar Isles would let me go? There’s not a chance, not when our whole town is involved... They could be viewed as weak if they did,” you explained.

He frowned, staring at you with sad eyes. “You don’t deserve this, don’t you dare think you do... You didn’t do anything wrong,” he declared.

But you did... You changed fate, disrupted God...

“I don’t want this to be your fate... It isn’t fair,” Hoseok whispered.

“I’ll be with my mother and father again... I’ll be happy with them,” you smiled weakly.

‘Angel... Happy?’

Jimin came by soon after Hoseok, bringing you a cupcake and forcing you to eat it. He wanted you to smile, to enjoy one more thing. He cried, holding your face through the bars also. You wished he wouldn’t cry, it didn’t suit him.

Yoongi and Namjoon came as well, telling you they were sorry. That they wished there was something they could do. You didn’t blame them. They were just following orders, doing their duty. It wasn’t their fault.

The only person at fault was you.

Sleep evaded you as you thought about Jungkook.

You wondered if they would let him see you. It was highly unlikely. Seeing as how they took him away from you. But you wished... you wished you could tell him you love him.

Even if there was nothing to come of your feelings, you wanted him to know that you cared about him. That the time you’d spent together was the most cherished part of your life. Waking up each morning to him was a privilege. You wished that you could pet Garçon, tell him to be a good boy.

You remembered him by Jungkook’s side and you felt your heart swell with pride. He’d been such a good boy, and Jungkook would have him... Hopefully, Luna would allow him that much.

You thought of Jungkook and Garçon, your little family you’d made as the darkness turned to light shades of blue and purple. The jangling of keys made you turn your head. There was the town’s Priest, no doubt to allow you confession before you walked to your death.

“Miss Y/N, I am here to listen to your confessions and to deliver you to the hands of God,” he announced, calm.

“I have nothing to confess, Father. But thank you for your words,” you said soft. Namjoon bit his lip, watery eyes turning away from you.

“Very well, I will read your last rites before you hang,” he stated, heading towards the stairs. Yoongi looked at you and unlocked the door.

“Time to go, Y/N,” he said.

You nodded and stood up, following after them. They locked chains around your hands, even though they weren’t necessary. You weren’t going to fight them. What would be the point? They were much stronger than you, and if you caused too much of a fight then certainly someone would finish you off before the noose.

Seokjin looked up from his cell and stared at you. A small cry coming from his mouth. You gave him a gentle gaze before carrying yourself up the stairs, into the pale light of morning.

There wasn’t a sound but the clanking of your chains as you approached the gallows. Breathing deeply, you managed to ascend the walkway. The gallows were dark, stained with time. You saw the crowd watching you, wanting to express something, but they weren’t sure what it was. Looking at the noose, you stepped forward. Namjoon helped you up, unlocking your chains and throwing them behind you.

Your eyes scanned the people before you. They were watching on, unsure of the tension in the air. The Mayor clapped his hands, making the attention go to him.

“Today, we witness the death of a criminal. A woman who kidnapped an innocent man, and harbored him against his will in her den of debauchery!”

You furrowed your brow at that statement. But, listened on regardless.

“We also bare witness to the death of a liar! Someone who withheld the truth from us, and did so to prolong our pain. She watched from her window as we all struggled to feed ourselves, and needed to scrounge enough money to pay our dues. Today she hangs, to pay for the crimes she has committed! May God have mercy on your soul, child.”

“May he have mercy on yours as well,” you stated.

The crowd raised their brows at your statement, some chuckling at your bold disrespect for authority. The Mayor glared at you, clearing his throat once more. “As per tradition, may our Father announce your last rites!”

“Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up,” the Father read.

You nodded and smiled.

“Our heavenly Father, who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven...”

The crowd joined him in prayer, almost as if they were sending you off as well. You finally found Jungkook in the crowd. Once again, attached to Luna’s side. You smiled at him, letting him see your joy. You were so glad to see him, even if it was to be the last. You were so glad, so overjoyed to see him there.

Next to him was his mother and father. He was standing, breathing easily. It made you happy to know he was well also. You locked eyes with his mother, and she stared at you with shock.

"This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper,” the Priest stated, looking to you.

"Lord I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed."

The crowd looked shocked as you answered. The Priest also appeared stunned, but nodded and closed his Bible, looking to the Mayor for the final words.

“Miss Y/N, you may have your final words,” he declared.

“Thank you,” you said. “My final words... Are to one person in this crowd. You know who you are, baby,” you smiled.

Jungkook’s head popped up at his nickname. You smiled softly and continued. “I’m so sorry that you have to witness this. And know it isn’t your fault, it’s entirely mine. I was selfish, and you were so good... I couldn’t help but save you. I was glad to teach you everything again. I was glad to wash your hair. I was overjoyed to watch you eat the food I cooked. And I am so happy that I get to see your face again.”

Your voice cracked.

Yoongi came over and tied your hands behind your back with rope, so that you couldn’t keep yourself from hanging. But it didn’t stop you from speaking your mind. Finally telling Jungkook everything that you had wanted to say for so long. “I remember you asked me what love was,” you said. “And I realized that everything I told you I believed it was applied to you. Jeon Jungkook, I love you,” you breathed.

“LET HER HANG!” the Mayor cried.

“ANGEL NO!”

The sound of the trapdoor beneath your feet opening hit your ears, and then sharp pain erupting from your neck took over your senses.

Unfortunately, your neck didn’t snap. You could feel your head pounding with the amount of blood being forced to it from your neck restriction. Your lungs burned with the need for oxygen, but none was being produced...

The world was swimming and you were in agony when you felt someone touching your legs.

“Angel! Let go, please!” you could hear Jungkook’s voice.

“NAMJOON NOW!”

Suddenly, you dropped and slumped into Jungkook’s arms. “Angel!” he yelled, lowering you to the ground. Your eyes were closed, but you could hear him... You could feel his hands...

“KILL THE TRAITORS!”

“JUNGKOOK GO!”

“THIS WAY!”

You felt yourself being adjusted, then hauled into the air. The jolting of your body told you that Jungkook was running. The sound of panting had you realize that Garçon wasn’t far behind him either.

“My son! Save her!” Jungkook’s mother yelled from behind him.

“This way come on!” Taehyung’s voice hit your ears.

“AFTER THEM!”

“Give her here, Jungkook,” Seokjin’s voice was heard to your left.

“YAH!” Jimin’s high tone shouted from in front of you.

You heard whinnying and then the breeze along your face became harsh. The sound of hooves hitting dirt took over. But you felt gentle hands touching your face, brushing your hair from your eyes.

“Angel...” Jungkook whimpered.

“Hang on!” Jimin yelled.

A sharp turn sent you flying into a warm frame, one you didn’t recognize. It must’ve been Seokjin.

Exhaustion creeped in your bones, as you felt the effects from your ordeal taking over. You weren’t sure if it was death taking your or sleep as you accepted the darkness. All you knew, is that a warm hand was in yours the whole time...

Your neck was stiff as you tried to peel your eyes open.

Warmth covered your right side, shallow breaths being felt against your frame. You managed to peek one eye open, even though the vision was blurry. Garçon’s floppy ears greeted you, like they did nearly every morning.

“G-Gar,” you tried, feeling your voice crack as you tried to speak. His head flew up, looking at you.

“Bark! Bark bark bark!”

Then you were overwhelmed with his kisses on your face. You laughed weakly, patting his head.

“Garçon, easy,” you reminded.

A door opened and you heard wood dropping to the floor. You turned your head and saw Jungkook looking at you with tears brimming in his eyes.

“Angel...” he breathed, smiling.

“Jungkook,” You whimpered, reaching out for him. He was beside you in an instant, taking you in his arms.

“Angel, Angel,” he repeated in your neck. His wet tears hit your skin, making you run your fingers through his hair to calm him. “I love you.”

Your chest constricted at his broken confession. “Shh, baby, it’s alright, I love you too” you managed.

“Thought... I thought... I-I lost you,” he sobbed. You shook your head, placing soft kisses to his ear.

“No, I’m here,” you urged. “I’m here Jungkook.” Pulling his face away from your neck you wiped his tears away. He leaned into your touch, seeming to love the way your hands glided against his skin.

Jungkook stared at your eyes for a moment, before his gaze flicked to your lips. He leaned in slowly. “Angel... kiss,” he whispered.

You happily connected your lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. Tangling your fingers in his hair you pulled him closer. Jungkook moaned against your mouth, nipping at your lips lightly.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, licking your lips.

“Angel, want to kiss you.” Jungkook grabbed at your hips, bringing you into his embrace. You almost let him do just that, before you remembered what had happened.

The trial, your hanging... How were you alive right now?

“Jungkook-mmm, wait,” you murmured as he pecked your lips impatiently.

“Angel,” he pouted. “Kisses.”

“Hold on, where are we?” You asked.

Jungkook pulled back, sighing at the fact he wouldn’t get his kisses without an explanation. He brushed your hair behind you ear and took your hands in his. “We’re in woods. Your friends... brought us here... Hoseok said, um.. Hoseok said we stay here,” he tried.

“Hoseok...” you trailed off. Then you remembered. “It’s his hunting cottage. Of course,” you said. Hoseok traded furs sometimes to gain extra money, he must’ve brought you and Jungkook here to hide... No doubt the guards would be looking for you both.

“Yes! We move to... to um... I don’t know,” he stated.

“That’s alright, are you alright?” you asked, running your hands over his shoulders. You remembered that they must’ve been doing something to keep him by Luna’s side... But Jungkook smiled and pulled you in by the waist.

“Kisses, Angel?”

“You’re such a spoiled boy,” you laughed. He nodded before pulling you in once more. You kissed slowly, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on yours.

It felt like a dream to be here in his arms. To finally have him. Jungkook let go of your lips to trail kisses down your neck. He place several gentle pecks to your throat, a small cry coming from him as he did so.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, feeling his trembling mouth against your sensitive skin.

Jungkook brought his hand up, placing his fingers on your neck. It ached a small amount, but you didn’t flinch. “People hurt you... that makes me... sad,” he sniffed. You placed a soft kiss to his mouth, making him relax just a bit.

“But you saved me, I’m here because of you,” you told him.

“I... tried harder...”

You shook your head, coddling him like a child. “No, Jungkook... You did everything right. I’m so proud of you, baby. You stayed put and waited for me, and when it mattered you came to save me. You, all of our friends,” you said smiling.

“M-My friends... too?” he asked, eyes twinkling with light.

“Absolutely, they wouldn’t help you unless they considered you their friend too,” you encouraged. Jungkook laughed at the prospect of having more friends. Garçon whined, licking your hand impatiently.

You conceded to his wishes and scruffed up his ears and head, watching as his tail thumped against the bedding. Jungkook patted his rear a few times before standing up and going to collect the wood he dropped upon his entry. Garçon seemed to be satisfied with the miniscule amount of attention you gave him, as he jumped up and trotted out the open door.

Your eyes wandered back to Jungkook, who was setting the wood onto the pile in the corner. You watched as his biceps bulged underneath the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. It pulled as his back arched, showing you his strength without much effort.

The sight made your mouth water lightly, creating a slight ache between your thighs. You wanted him badly, although you weren’t sure if he understood what this meant... Would be be able to consent to your actions? To your wishes?

“J-Jungkook,” you breathed. He turned and looked at you, eyebrow raised.

“Angel? Okay?” he asked, setting the wood on the table and coming over again. He sat down beside you and took your hand.

“I-I, want to try something new with you, but I’m not sure if you know what it is, or what it means,” you frowned. “I love you, and I want to show you...”

“Then show, Angel,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. The sensation made your neck scream with discomfort, but you wouldn’t move.

“Jungkook, remember when you asked what French kissing was?” you blushed.

“Yes... Only lovers... Lovers could do it,” he recalled. “I love you, can we kiss... like lovers?”

“Jungkook, to be lovers with someone is more than just kissing them, you... you bare parts of yourself no one else is allowed to see. If I give you all of myself, then you have to promise I have all of you as well. I won’t share you with anyone, and you can’t share me with anyone either. At least, not in the way I want you,” you explained.

Jungkook seemed to think for a moment, and his eyes widened for a moment. “Angel, make love to me,” he whispered. “I read in book, I-I put myself... inside of you...”

The lewd phrasing of his words had fire running through your veins. His eyes were unreadable, as if he was purposefully being secretive with you. When did Jungkook learn to be so shifty?

“That’s right, but are you okay with that?”

“Angel... I want to,” he agreed. “I-I know how.”

“What?” you squeaked.

“I read from book, and Seokjin told me some... some things,” he said, coming forward to push you onto your back. You looked up in astonishment, Jungkook’s frame towering over your body.

“You’ll need to show me this book, and I think i’ll need to have a conversation with Seokjin” you said.

“No, I’ll show,” he announced, diving in to capture your lips.

Jungkook’s whole demeanor changed as he kissed you harder. You found it almost difficult to keep up with him. His mouth moved against yours as if he were trying to steal the very breath from your lungs. You’d give it to him. Whatever he wanted from you he could have it, as long as he kept kissing you this way. As long as he kept loving you, whatever you had could be his...

Jungkook licked into your mouth, something you weren’t expecting. The sensation of his wet tongue moving across your lips made you gasp. Jungkook took this opportunity to taste you. He moaned impatiently when you didn’t respond right away, nibbling at your upper lip in frustration.

You grabbed his shirt in your fists and aggressively molded your mouth to his again. It created an ache in your neck, but the strong desire between your legs was far more agonizing than your sore throat.

“Angel, pretty,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Take off.” He pulled on your dress with longing.

You flushed before gripping your bodice and pulling it open. Jungkook watched as your chest relaxed, no longer being held together by tightened fabric. You let your dress slacken at the neck, making it fall to your elbows.

Shivering because of your newly exposed skin, you blushed as Jungkook came closer.

“Angel, so soft,” he admired, running his hands down your shoulders. You shuddered as he brought his hands to cup your breasts. His strong palms dug into your sensitized flesh. You let out a soft cry when he tugged on a pebbled nipple. Jungkook was entirely absorbed in your body.

Lifting your arms to drape around his neck, you urged him closer. The sensation of his hands on your supple skin made your mind wild with desire. You wanted his hands all over you, caressing your frame with tender touches.

“Jungkook, that feels nice,” you complimented as he smoothed his fingers down your stomach. You squirmed, letting out a soft giggle as it tickled.

“Can I... touch more?” Jungkook requested, looking at you for permission. You nodded, pulling your arms from your dress. He didn’t hesitate as he moved to touch your chest. You sighed as the sensations took over. Jungkook panted against your mouth, seemingly overwhelmed at the new feelings coursing through his veins. You wondered breifly if he had sex before dying in the forest that night. You didn’t want to think of that time, but as he licked at your swollen lips you found the memory easily forgotten.

Although, these heated kisses didn’t seem to be enough for the man.

“Ah!” You cried out as Jungkook placed an open mouth kiss on your breast. He looked at you with worry written on his features, but you shook your head. “Keep going.”

He did so, licking your soft skin. His arms wrapped around your body, making your arms lock and push your chest out towards him. This pleased Jungkook, watching as your ample breasts was on display for his eyes only.

“My Angel,” he cooed, taking a nipple in his mouth.

“Nngh,” you moaned, thighs pulling together from the ache building between them. A gush of slickness slipped past your lower lips, getting into your knickers and causing light discomfort.

Jungkook suckled on your flesh, nipping and teasing your sensitive chest. You whimpered, gripping his shirt in your hands. Jungkook laved his tongue over your breasts, making sure each one got equal attention. You winced when he sucked harshly, hard enough to make your skin turn a reddish purple hue. Jungkook’s eyes sparkled at the sight. He took your nipple into his hot mouth once more, swirling his tongue over it and pulling his head back slightly. His pupils dilated when he let the peaked bud go and your breast jiggled from the force.

Getting tired of being the only naked one, you urged for Jungkook to remove his clothing as well. “Take your shirt off, Jungkook,” you said, tugging on the fabric. He pouted as he pulled away, obviously not through with your chest. However, he unbuttoned his shirt and then pulled it over his head to throw it on the floor.

“Better?” He tested.

Your mouth pooled with saliva. His chest was toned, pert nipples sitting on his pecks. You looked down to see defined muscles wrapping around his body. His skin was smooth, almost golden. However, his pale and slightly sallow complexion would be there permanently.

Your eyes moved down his body until the hit the center, were a warped and twisted scar sat. You crawled forward, coming eye level with the raised skin. Carefully, you placed your fingers on the lines. Jungkook hissed at your cold digits on his skin. You looked at him with worry. “Does that hurt?”

“N-no, I...Know it is... ugly. Sorry,” he said, ashamed. You shook your head viciously, coming up to hold his face in your hands.

“No, it isn’t ugly, Jungkook. Nothing about you is ugly to me. This scar here, this scar is the reason I can hold you in my arms. I love it, because it’s apart of you. Because of this scar, I am able to be with you. And for that, I am forever thankful to this scar,” you declared.

Jungkook gazed into your eyes, blinking slow. You dragged your hands down his body until they reach his hips. You held them there, before leaning in and placing soft kisses to his scar. Jungkook let out a shaky breath, bringing his hands to cradle your face as you moved along the long and mangled scar lines. His thumbs brushed your cheeks so delicately you felt your heart trembling in your chest.

“Angel, love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too, all of you. Jungkook,” you announced. Jungkook gently brought your mouth back to his. The kisses quickly became urgent, longing and desire burning hot between you. You laid back once again, Jungkook following with his mouth attached to your chest. Letting a gentle whine come from your throat, Jungkook continued to suck delicate blossoms into your flesh.

He brought your tender skin between his teeth and carefully pulled, suckling and huffing against his work. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged him away from your sternum. Jungkook pouted in displeasure when you did so, letting a little whimper escape from his red lips.

“As much as I love your mouth on me, perhaps you could kiss me lower?” you asked, raising a teasing brow in his direction. Jungkook’s face furrowed in confusion.

“How?” He asked.

You shimmied your dress off, throwing it to the ground with his shirt. Jungkook watched with rapt attention as you spread your legs apart. “Come here,” you said, crooning your finger towards him. He followed like a man possessed, until he was level with your center.

“Angel,” he whined, kissing your knee and thighs hungrily.

“Shh, kiss me here darling,” you instructed, pulling your lips apart to invite him. You were surprised at your bold behavior. For a maiden, you were more brazen than you wanted to admit.  Jungkook nodded, placing a soft kiss to your mound. You moaned, hips hitting against his mouth in wanton desire. Licking his lips Jungkook moved back in, kissing again.

“Angel, you taste... good,” he whispered, eagerly kissing your core deeper, using more of his tongue. His mouth connected to your swollen center, making you writhe in pleasure underneath him.

“Oh, Jungkook!” You mewled, tangling your fingers in his hair as he licked deeper. Jungkook wasn’t neat with the way he was pleasuring you, loud sounds escaping him. Cute little cries of bliss were smothered by your heated skin as he refused to move away from you for a second.

His movements were sloppy, smearing your slick on your thighs and his chin. Whenever he came up to take your clit in his mouth you gasped at the pleasure and the sight of Jungkook’s soaked mouth. He found your pearl and played with it softly, giving your small shockwaves a pure, unadulterated gratification. More of your wetness leaked from your lips and Jungkook almost snarled with glee.

“You taste... so good, Angel,” he groaned, nudging your clit with his nose as he captured more of your bliss. He couldn’t keep himself still for the life of him, squirming in pleasure. He kept grabbing at your hands, encouraging you to touch him more, living for your hands grazing his heated flesh.

“Angel, Angel,” he whined, rutting against the mattress. You felt your insides clench at the action, want to be the mattress badly.

“Jungkook, more please,” you begged, gripping his hair. He groaned at the sharp sensation it brought, making his mouth leave your center.

“Angel, I... I want, inside, but want to make you... happy too” he tried, licking his lips like he’d just finished a great meal.

“Baby I’m already happy because I can be here with you, does it hurt?” you asked, gazing as he tried to keep himself occupied by kissing your knee and shins. but the tent in his pants told you it would come soon enough.

“Y-yes, pain, Angel,” he whined, bucking into the sheets pathetically.

“Okay, baby. Take your pants off,” you said, hooking your fingers in his belt loops. Jungkook leaned back, letting you disrobe him happily. He kicked his feet, getting the annoying material off of him. He sat up on his knees, coming back towards you. You watched as his cock was revealed to you. He was hard, tip smeared with precum. Jungkook smiled as you leaned down, stroking his lower stomach with interest.

“Want mouth,” he said, running his thumb over your lips. You took his thumb in your hot cavern, enveloping his digit in wet heat. Jungkook gasped as the sensation, wanting nothing more than to be inside of you.

Letting go of this thumb with a lewd pop, you licked your lips and took his length in your fist. He cried out, hunching forward at your touch. “Needy baby,” you tutted.

Jungkook bucked his hips into your grasp, whining from desire. “Angel, please...”

With a smirk you took his tip into your mouth. Jungkook cried out, gripping your shoulder right. It hurt, but the bliss on his face was worth every second of discomfort.

Moving slow, you inched your way down his dick. You felt your throat tighten in discomfort, but you pushed forward. Jungkook was panting, looking at you as if you were an exquisite piece of art before him. He tangled his fingers in your hair, urging you forward with gentle pressure to your head. He wanted you so bad. Needed you to keep going, it was torture so sweet it consumed him. Your tongue licked along the base of his shaft, finding a vein their to tease.

“F-fuck, Angel,” he groaned. You looked up at him in shock, mouth coming off his weeping cock. Jungkook hissed at the loss.

“Where did you learn a word like that?” You asked, pumping him entirely too slow to be pleasurable.

“U-um,” he avoided, biting his lip.

“Jungkook, tell me,” you warned, gripping the base of his dick to cut off his pleasure.

“You! Heard from Angel!”

You? When did you ever swear around him?

“Jungkook, don’t lie,” you growled, enjoying the agony on his face from your ministrations.

“At night! Y-you alone, in bed,” he huffed, looking at the ceiling.

“What was I doing?” You asked.

“Touching... pleasuring...”

“I was touching myself?” You asked. “And you watched me?” You asked, licking his dick to tease him.

Jungkook cried out and hunched forward, sweating with effort. “Angel... hurts, want to... finish,” he whimpered. You rubbed your hands on his sweaty back and kissed his chin.

“Tell me why you watched me, and I’ll let you cum,” you promised.

“Because,” he whined. “I wanted... to touch... I wanted to... p-pleasure Angel.”

“You will, baby, but cum first,” you smiled, letting your hand fly over his slick covered cock. Jungkook moaned loudly, you almost thought you were hurting him. But he bucked into your hands, panting with effort.

“Finish,” he cried out.

“Are you cumming baby?” You asked, rubbing your thumb right underneath the head of his purple tip.

“Yes, cumming for Angel,” he cried out, white strings of cum painting your chest, hot against you skin. You moaned, feeling the betwixt liquid fall onto your stomach and nipples.

“Good boy,” you praised as Jungkook collapsed against your shoulder. His harsh breaths warmed your skin. Now, there was a painful sensation between your legs you knew only Jungkook could satisfy. “Are you alright baby?” You asked, kissing his damp forehead.

“Just... a minute Angel,” he said, licking at your skin.

“Breathe, baby... I can wait for you,” you said, smoothing your hands down his shoulders and upper back.

“Love Angel,” he said, nudging your jaw with his nose, placing soft kisses to your flesh.

“I love you too,” you smiled, heart fluttering wild in your chest.

Jungkook moves from your shoulder to your chest, licking at his cum the splattered your skin. You gasped as he did so, tongue swirling around your pebbles nipples.

“Mmm, Angel you’re... sweet,” he smiled. “Tastes good.”

“I want you so bad,” you moaned. Jungkook nodded, grabbing your thighs to force you down. Going forward on his knees, you felt his cock against your impatient pussy.

He took his member in his hand, pumping it slowly. You noticed he wasn’t hard, but he was growing before your eyes. A cold sweat broke out on your neck, making your grab Jungkook’s hand in fear. You’d never been this far with a man, you only knew how to please him because of a book you’d read. You hoped Jungkook hadn’t noticed.

“I-I’ve never, I’m a virgin Jungkook,” you whispered. His eye widened, looking at your center with a soft expression.

“I’ll be... first?” He seemed shocked, but excited nonetheless.

“Yes, and the only,” you reminded.

“Only, me?”

You nodded and took his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers. Kissing his knuckles you wiggled your hips a bit, brushing your hot skin against his. Jungkook bucked lightly, dipping inside your entrance ever so slightly. He moaned at the contact, making you jolt from the noise.

“Please hurry, I want it,” you begged. “But you have to be gentle.”

“Gentle,” he confirmed. Slow, but firm Jungkook began to push inside of you. His body seemed to know what to do, because he carefully pulled himself out to set a steady pace. You winced as he got further in, but Jungkook was patient. “Okay?” He asked when you tended up at his intrusion. You nodded, placing your fingers to your clit. Rubbing gently making you clench around his hardened length. Jungkook hissed and rutted against you, causing you to cry out. He apologized, kissing your lips softly. “Angel, you feel... good,” he groaned.

“You too, Jungkook... so big,” you whined as another inch disappeared inside of you.

“Soft, hot... tight,” he practically snarled. You were a mess underneath him, wanting him deeper. The pain was secondary to the rising feeling of fullness that overtook your senses.

“More, give me all of it,” you begged. Jungkook listened and you felt his hips against yours. The pair of you breathed in harshly, letting each other get used to the foreign sensations. You swear you could feel him in your throat with how deep inside of you he was.

Experimentally, you clenched your walls, feeling Jungkook’s pulsing member seated deep within your.

“Ah! Angel don’t,” he whined. You looked up, seeing his brows furrowed and pinched in concentration.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Too good, close,” he whimpered.

“Relax, I’m okay, you can move,” you said. Jungkook did so, pulling back and hitting his pelvis against your swollen heat. You called his name, urging him on. He lowered himself, getting a better angle to push himself back into your sweet embrace. Placing his hands on either side of your head he gasped when you adjusted your hips to accommodate his movement.

“Angel, shit,” he groaned. The difference in his thrusts made your walls clench hard, causing Jungkook to smack himself equally as forceful against your hips. “Ah, fuck!”

You arched you back at the sudden wave of pleasure that came over you. “Jungkook, harder,” you pleaded, wanting to be suffocated with that sweet feeling that had already abandoned you. He didn’t need to be told twice, soon he was plowing into your virgin center with reckless abandon. You writhed from the pleasure, grasping at his biceps to keep you grounded.

“A-Angel, Y/N,” he whispered. You froze...

He’d never said your name before, you loved how it sounded from his mouth. “Y-You said my name,” you panted, cradling his face in your hands. Jungkook’s forehead was damp with sweat, making you dab it with your forearm lovingly.

“Y-You’re my... Angel, Y/N,” he breathed, kissing your mouth deeply. You interlocked your fingers behind his neck, gently rolling your hips along with his thrusts. Jungkook grunted as you hit against his pelvis with a particularly hard thrust. Moving your lips against his you licked into his mouth, moving your tongue with his in tandem to his brutal pace within you.

“Ah, Angel, so good,” he whimpered, licking along your jawline.

“Jungkook, Jungkook more please!”

“W-want to... Move... different,” he whined.

He wanted a different position? Thinking in your brain you placed your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you with confusion. “Let me try something,” you stated. Jungkook nodded, pulling away from you.

The pair of you winced as his cock slipped from your trembling walls. Carefully you moved onto your knees, bending forward to present your ass to him. Jungkook groaned, coming forward to place several kisses along your spine.

“Angel,” he whimpered. “How do... do I?” he questioned.

Moving yourself backwards you gripped his length in your hands, directing it towards your soaked core. “Just like this baby, take it easy,” you said, pushing yourself back onto his dick. Jungkook bit his lip harshly before bucking into your battered maw once more.

“Ah, t-tighter,” he whimpered, grabbing onto your hips to get himself even deeper into you.

You were panting hard, lungs on fire as you felt him moving you both towards a precipice that felt it had no end. Wrists straining to keep you up and Jungkook’s harsh movements were starting to throw you off the deep end.

“So tight,” he moaned. You clenched at his words, making his hips stutter in their movement. You almost sobbed at the loss of momentum that had you swirling in the throes of pleasure. Moving your hands to his that were secured on your waist, you pulled them down your body.

“Jungkook, touch me here,” you said, bringing his hand to your clit. “Rub it.” He was now hunched over your body, hot breath fanning across the nape of your neck. He nodded, timing his thrusts with quick flicks of his thumb against your sensitive nub. You felt molten heat flying through your veins at the motions.

“Y-Y/N, I love you, Angel... Angel I love you so much,” he puffed into your sweaty skin.

“I love you too, Jungkook. Keep going, make me cum please,” you cried, thighs trembling from the activity.

“Closer, want you... want you closer,” he fussed, trying to get his arms around your body.

“Baby, easy, be gentle,” you warned, his bucking hips proving to be a little harsh against your tender walls. “How about this?”

You straightened yourself up, wrapping his arms around your waist as you sat down on his lap. Jungkook whined in your throat from the new bliss he found himself experiencing. You placed your knees next to his, lining yourself up so you could be comfortable. Jungkook moved up, seeing how he could move in this setting.

Gasping you brought his hand to your stomach. “I can feel you here, oh God, Jungkook,” you cried, resting against his chest. He was overwhelmed with love and desire for you that it didn’t seem real.

He loved you so much, and it made him emotional to hold you so intimately.

Fullness suffused your entire being, but you felt hot droplets of water touching your neck. You turned your head to see Jungkook’s eyes filling with tears. Alarm coursed through your chest. “B-baby, are you alright?” you asked, nudging his cheek with your nose.

“I-I’ll die without you,” he whimpered, crying out when you adjusted against him.

“I know, baby, I know... I love you, I’m no-ah! I’m not going to leave you. Never, Jungkook. I will never leave you again,” you promised, kissing him so firmly you thought you would bruise each others lips. Jungkook caressed your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek as he kept fucking into you so desperately.

You thighs were burning, wanting nothing more than the sweet release of an orgasm to sate the ravenous appetite building in your lower stomach. But you’d take this pain, all of it if it meant you could feel Jungkook inside you.

If you could hold him in your arms every day after this. You would go through so much more agony, even more bloodshed and hell if it meant you could see his smiling face at the end of the trauma.

Because you would do anything for the man who held you so close, yet so delicate because he didn’t want to hurt you.

Anything.

“Angel, cumming,” he warned. You felt his cock throbbing inside you, no doubt ready for his second release. God you wanted his hot seed inside you. To paint your quivering walls in his white seed. You briefly wondered if Jungkook could get you pregnant, but since he had been dead prior to your love making, you thought that it was unlikely.

“Please Jungkook, please do it,” you begged, tears in your eyes. You gripped your breasts, pulling and teasing your nipples for more stimulation. He brought his mouth to your neck once more, heaving deep breaths into the hollow of your throat, but he licked and sucked to occupy his distraught mind.

“Angel, I love you,” he moaned, each thrust he made becoming more solid into your swollen womanhood.

“Jungkook, I love you too,” you cried out. He leaned down, quickening his thrusts inside of you where you were certain the bed was going to shatter. Jungkook’s mouth found yours, desperately licking and sucking on your swollen lips.

You could feel him everywhere, and it wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel him in the deepest parts of you. “Inside me, cum inside me,” you sobbed.

Jungkook stiffened at your sentence, before letting out a choked off cry. Then, you felt scorching heat in your walls that sent you over as well, shuddering violently against your lover’s toned body.

“Angel, oh fuck, good,” he whimpered, pumping you both through your orgasms. You clenched sporadically around his sensitive dick, pulling each spurt of his cum deep inside of you.

Jungkook soon fell lax against you, nearly crushing you with his weight. You moved, having his length remove itself from you bruised core. But you didn’t care. Laying on your back you brought Jungkook to your chest. You combed your fingers through his hair softly, cooing into his ear about how gentle he had been. What a good boy he was for loving you so much.

“Jungkook?” You asked a few minutes later. Jungkook was lazily licking at your chest, pulling a nipple into his mouth. You squirmed at the feeling, but kept your focus.

“Mmm, Angel?” He responded, licking up your throat to you lips.

“Was that... was that your first time too?” You asked.

“I-I don’t, think so,” he worded. “Feels... familiar. But, better with you.”

You had a feeling Jungkook hadn’t been a virgin, but it didn’t matter. He was yours now, and you were his.

---

As you lay in his arms that night, naked and sweating from several more rounds of torrid love making. You couldn’t help but think of the days to come.

Where were you and Jungkook going to go? We’re your friends safe? How was Solstice going to repair relations with the Lunar Isles?

You believed that peace could be brought to your people, but would the town fair without you? As far as you knew, you were the only person who delved into medical practices there. Heart racing you feared for those you’d come to care for. Even if they had demanded your hanging. They were frightened people, wanting nothing more than to have an answer to their pain. You couldn’t blame them for being human.

“Angel,” Jungkook murmured against your breast, kissing a few of his love bites tenderly.

Then all anxious thoughts disappeared. You wrapped your arms around him, running your fingers through the nape of his neck to his hair. Jungkook relaxed against you, arm tightening across your lower stomach.

You then found it didn’t matter.

Jungkook was here, and that’s all you cared about. You had the man you loved by your side. He was breathing, sleeping easily beside you. He was also turning out to be an insatiable beast, but you'd deal with that when you stopped being one as well.

In that moment, you weren’t a human and a reanimated corpse... you were two people, who’d fallen in love. And even though there might be complications, you’d handle all of them if it meant Jungkook was there at the end for you.

You’d run as fast as you could, for as long as you could to reach him. And you know he’d do the same for you.

For an Angel and her Lover. Nothing was impossible.

[azfellandco]

Hey there, so your reply to my comment on the vampire AU, about Aziraphale and consumption and such, has been rattling around in my head since I read it, and I was hoping, if you have the time/energy/desire of course, to pick your brains about what kinds of meta/headcanons you've got? Because Aziraphale and food and softness and subversion give me LIFE and I have some thoughts of my own but I'd love to hear yours :D

I would love to talk about this some more, hell yeah. Thank you so much. Please do also tell me your headcanons, @dwarven-beard-spores, I definitely want to hear them. Here is the AU in question for anyone else who might be interested.

Anyway I’m going to have to put this under a read-more because this has become like… thesis level long. My apologies to anyone on mobile. 

The thing I love about this book in general is that there’s such a rich vein of history of thought to explore baked into the premise. Angels and demons and god and the devil and satanic nuns and witches and the four horsemen and the antichrist and the Book of Revelation’s “capital A for Apocalypse” exist in this universe and because so much of it is played for humorous effect there’s a lot of wiggle room as to how these things actually interact with their real world theological equivalents. Which is all building up to say: I am absolutely fascinated with the dichotomy in popular conception between angels as good/holy and angels as monstrous, and how to a lot of people that really isn’t a dichotomy at all. 

Here are some quotes I think about in conjunction with Aziraphale a lot. 

“Did you ever notice how in the Bible, whenever God needed to punish someone, or make an example, or whenever God needed a killing, he sent an angel? Did you ever wonder what a creature like that must be like? A whole existence spent praising your God, but always with one wing dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?“  –The Prophecy

“Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the hierarchyof angels? and even if one of thempressed me against his heart: I would be consumedin that overwhelming existence. For beauty is nothingbut the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure,and we are so awed because it serenely disdainsto annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying.” –Rainer Maria Rilke

Every angel is terrifying. What? Whomst? Aziraphale, light of my life, in love with a demon who thinks bullet-hole window transfers and expensive divers’ watches are cool, calls said demon “my dear”, is terrifying? Excuse me? 

I am utterly in love with the idea of Aziraphale as this potential force of nature, with the righteous fury and the wings and the sword and wait. What did Aziraphale do with that sword? He gave it away to the humans that got kicked out of paradise, because they looked cold. 

The first thing Aziraphale does in the whole book is a renouncement of this particular idea of angels, and we see him sort of… butt up against it later, when he talks to the Metatron. Aziraphale doesn’t want the world to end, of course he doesn’t, but I just have… so many feelings about the way Aziraphale talks about the war versus the way the Metatron talks about the war. 

The point is not to avoid the war, it is to win it. –the Metatron, pg. 242

The Metatron is the kind of angel above, blood and fury, and Aziraphale’s voice goes “flat and hopeless” in the face of it, “the bitterness in his voice would have soured milk”. Aziraphale doesn’t want this war to happen, and the way all his thoughts and feelings are tagged versus the sort of netural, descriptionless way the Metatron’s are (pretty much the only characterization the Metatron gets is “a well-educated voice” and “a shade testily”, the latter of which is in response to Aziraphale saying he has to delay returning to Heaven) has always struck me as like… the difference between Aziraphale and other angels is that Aziraphale cares so much. We talk a lot in this fandom about Crowley and “the truth was that Crowley rather liked humans. It was a major failing in a demon” but Aziraphale is the same, he’s just… subtler. 

Where the heck was I going with this. I’m so fond. 

Ah yes. Aziraphale is different from other angels because he cares, because he wants. I wrote a fic about this, too, actually. So it’s sort of interesting to me that it’s in the things Aziraphale wants that he is most an ”every angel is terrifying” angel, even though in some cases it’s a muted and complex kind of thing, a lot of which has been helped along for my by popular fandom and my love of gothic lit and isn’t necessarily comping from the book anymore, everything from here on out is my headcanons.

The most obvious example of Aziraphale’s desires being the most monstrous thing about him comes from that same conversation with the Metatron. I’m sure everybody here is aware of the good old “Aziraphale was willing to kill a child so he could stay on earth and keep eating sushi” post which, while reductive, is essentially what I’m getting at here. Aziraphale calls the Metatron with the specific intent of the Metatron killing Adam and stopping the ball rolling because he likes the world and he likes living there and I really do think, when it comes down to it, that’s a purely selfish decision on Aziraphale’s part. Crowley knows that the things about the world that will get Aziraphale on his side near the start of the book are all things Aziraphale likes. 

“No more compact discs… no salt, no eggs. No gravlax with dill sauce. No more fascinating little restaurants where they know you. No Daily Telegraph crosswords. No small antique shops. No book shops either. No interesting first editions. No–” Crowley scraped the bottom of Aziraphale’s barrel of interests, “regency silver snuffboxes.” –pg. 46

It’s all well and good to like people and want to help them and want to save them, but in the end, for a certain kind of person (the kind of person I see Aziraphale as), you have to make it personal. And people, as I’m sure everyone is aware, will do truly awful things in the name of protecting what is personal to them. 

I don’t know where to put this observation so it’s going here. That one line that’s like “Six millennia exposure to humans was having the same effect on Aziraphale as it was on Crowley, only in the opposite direction”? I’ve generally seen this taken to mean “six millennia had made them both more human-like by making Crowley less evil and Aziraphale less good” but personally I’ve always taken it to mean that exposure to humans has made Crowley like humans more and Aziraphale like humans less. My angel is antisocial and likes people in a general sense only, because it’s important to his self-image to love all of God’s creation or whatever.

On that slightly ominous note let’s move on to the point about consumption. There’s a sentiment in some feminist literature about desire, and sexual desire, and hunger, and how they overlap that is relevant here but I cannot find the exact quote I am thinking of so these will have to do. 

For a woman who has learned to make herself physically and emotionally small, to live literally and figuratively on scraps, admitting that you have an appetite is a source of cavernous fear. Women are often on a diet of the body, but we are always on a diet of the heart. The low-maintenance woman, the ideal woman, has no appetite. This is not to say that she refuses food, sex, romance, emotional effort; to refuse is petulant, which is ironically more demanding. The woman without appetite politely finishes what’s on her plate, and declines seconds. She is satisfied and satisfiable. –Hunger Makes Me by Jess Zimmerman (if the contents of this meta i’m writing interest you then I suggest you read this article as well)

Please also see this “a softer world” fancomic which is a remix of the poem Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe– “And we loved with a love that was more than love, I and my Annabel Lee.”

To want is to hunger and to hunger is to want and it’s extremely important to me that Aziraphale’s particular temptation, and one Crowley knows full well, is lunch. Wanting as selfishness, as monstrousness, is… how you say… my entire shit. The subgenre of gothic horror that is about women who want and the way this makes them feel, as though they’re destructive and dark and dangerous, is pretty much the reason I am the person I am today. Crimson Peak, Shirley Jackson’s work but especially The Haunting of Hill House (speaking of which i am going to personally eviscerate whoever approved that netflix series, how dare they), to some extent Karen Navidson’s story in House Of Leaves, probably lots of others but those are the main ones that come to mind. They’re all about women who want, and feel they shouldn’t, and how that disconnect makes them othered from themselves and the world around them. 

I’ve always seen some overlap between this and the concept of queering the villain, because historically the idea of sexual desire has been made to look monstrous by bigots and assholes and that absolutely has not stopped us from grabbing these characters and archetypes and saying “mine now”. I’m never going to stop loving queer-coded villains as long as I live, because if society wants us to be evil we will damn well show them evil. 

But of course, wanting isn’t actually evil. It’s just human. Aziraphale is not especially selfish, for a human, even when that selfishness manifests as disregard for his companion’s feelings or stubbornness about the big picture (”That only works, right, if you start everyone off equal… that’s the good bit. The lower you start the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, that’s lunatic. No, said Aziraphale, it’s ineffable.”) it’s still just… human. People have a notoriously hard time caring about suffering beyond themselves, it’s why we invented morality. Wanting has no moral value, not really, just as hunger doesn’t. 

But I can’t help but think that, if Aziraphale agrees with this assessment, it’s taken him thousands of years and certainly until after the apocalypse to arrive there. Aziraphale wants to be good, and he wants his side to be “the good side”, so much so that he’s deluded himself for ages into thinking he doesn’t care about or consider the validity of the stuff Crowley says and believes. There is no textual evidence to support the statement “Aziraphale feels guilty for wanting things and part of the reason he’s so attached to Crowley is that Crowley makes him feel less guilty”, but there it is. 

Aziraphale wants, and other angels don’t, or at least, Aziraphale wants in a very concrete and specific sense that other angels don’t seem to–food, wine, books, snuffboxes, Crowley– in short, to be in the world and experience. Aziraphale wants sensual things, pretty things. Comfortable things. Aziraphale is such a soft and homey character despite all these little apparent sharp points, and I adore that about him. 

Let me quote my own fic for a moment, the vampire fic that prompted this ask in the first place.

Everything about Aziraphale said “soft” to Crowley, it was something he’d always rather liked about his friend. Soft curls framing his round face, gentle hands, warm and unfashionable clothes covering his pudgy middle. There was absolutely nothing about Aziraphale that looked even slightly predatory, and Crowley had never been able to determine if this was intentional camouflage or just the way Aziraphale was [footnote: it was both]. 

Aziraphale is selfish and petty and can be inconsiderate and obtuse, but he gave away the thing that identified him as an angel because some humans were suffering and needed it. He loves wine, and books, and he’s fat goddammit, because of course he is. He’s nonthreatening because he’s chosen to be. He’s human because he’s chosen to be, just as Crowley is. It just took him longer to realize that’s what he’d done. He’s got the potential, by virtue of being an angel, to be this incredibly powerful and dangerous thing, and instead he owns a bookshop and feeds the ducks and goes to lunch with his friend. 

I’m sure I’ll think of like ten additional things I want to say about this after I post it lmao prepare yourself for that, I guess. 

[psyraah]

On fiction, reality, and problematic/dark fic as coping

CW: mentions of child sexual abuse, depression, alcoholism, self-harm. And a bunch of other general not very fun things. Also age discourse. 

This has been weighing on my mind for a little bit. This is something that I’ve only recently figured out for myself, and so bear with me as I try to articulate it. I’m not entirely sure what the point of this is, other than to a) get something off my chest, and b) share a story about someone who was using very problematic fiction as a means to cope. Maybe my point is that we should just be a bit kinder to each other for what we’re all doing in this little bubble on the internet. 

When I was in high school, I had a friend who I used to be incredibly close to. We eventually had a huge falling out, largely because she was very depressed, in hindsight probably also had PTSD of some variety, had been sexually abused, and us both being teenagers, didn’t really know how to deal with any of that in a healthy way. She was a bit of a mess, and again, benefit of hindsight lets me see that a lot of it was her trying to figure it all out, and a cry for help. She drank a lot (again, we were only in high school), self-harmed, and one of the things that she shared with me, once, and only once because I rejected it entirely, was some really dark stuff that she wrote. 

I only saw this type of writing once, again, because I immediately went “what the hell is wrong with you”. Without going into detail, it involved sexual assault of a minor, torture, and death. Again, 15 year old me recoiled, rejected it as twisted, and she never showed me anything of the sort again. 20 something year old me looks back, and sees it as her trying to figure out the whys and whats of her past abuse. Me telling her it was wrong and twisted? Didn’t help that. It didn’t help because she already knew there was something wrong, she already knew she was deeply unhappy and hurting. And the only message I was sending to her was “don’t show any of it - if you do, you’re disgusting, you’re wrong”. 

It’s funny that it’s only really because of general age discourse that I had this epiphany. That if I didn’t see so many people who claim to be for survivors telling people to act in a way that went so far against someone in real life who I knew to be a survivor, I actually wouldn’t have realised what she had been doing all those years ago. How she had been crying out for help, for someone to listen. And when I did realise, it just made me even sadder that discourse is being used to alienate a lot of individuals who are already alienated. 

Some of us might only see this dark fic as coping thing in the abstract, or as something lighter. Like I use a lot of my writing to write out feelings of helplessness or anxiety - arguably far lighter topics than what my friend used to write about. So it is easy to dismiss. It is easy to recoil, and point at someone, and say “there is something deeply wrong with you”. 

Do I think that we need to take a certain level of responsibility, and take care and caution when writing about heavier topics, or fucked up themes? Yeah, I do. But I think that needs to come with an understanding that not everyone is at that point, or has that awareness, and generally, screaming abuse ... is very counter-productive. I’m in a fairly healthy part of my life, and I’m fairly clear-headed most of the time. I’m in a place where I can be critical about what I produce. Some people aren’t. 

Just as we ask people to be critical in their consumption of fiction, be critical in how you interact with the people creating it. People are not black and white. The internet is not made up of nasty monsters and beautiful angels. 

Also as a side note, I don’t condone abusing or bullying anyone over fiction anyway. If the entire horror genre is allowed to exist, then ... well. But the above is just thoughts. More my thoughts to keep track of, because it was really a (very late) revelation for me. And thoughts to just keep in mind to be kinder to each other. Please. 

Also, also, happy ending for my friend: I still don’t really talk to her very much, because there are still bits of her I don’t particularly like, but we do talk, and she’s lost a lot of the anger and fear that she had when she was younger. She has a partner who I think is good for her, because that mellowing out happened largely after they got together. She’s a lot less bitter at the world and generally more pleasant to talk to, and I think she’s a lot more peaceful.